#right up there with ‘you can do whatever you want forever��

[00valentina-writes00]

How about sevika with a terminally sick gf. I really loved the one you wrote for vi

♡♥︎Sevika with a terminally ill girlfriend♥︎♡

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t show much, but she’s absolutely destroyed when she finds out. There’s a crack in her usually unflappable armor, a flicker of vulnerability she tries to bury beneath her usual hard edges.

♥︎ She doesn’t talk about it much, but she starts keeping tabs on doctors, researching treatments, and trying to get her hands on any illegal or experimental cures she can afford. She won’t let you give up, even if you’re already resigned.

♥︎ Her usual harshness turns into something colder. She doesn’t waste time with anything unnecessary. If she’s going to help you, it’s going to be in the most effective way possible. No sentimental words, just straight to the point: “I’ll fix this. You’re not dying on me.”

♥︎ When you start getting weaker, she gets more demanding. She pushes you to eat, to stay awake, to fight. She’s relentless because if she doesn’t see you fight, it breaks her apart

♥︎ There are nights when she stays up late, arms crossed, staring out at the dark streets of Zaun, thinking about ways to make you better. Even the shimmer she injects into her system doesn’t offer any comfort when she watches you fade.

♥︎ She spends hours researching obscure treatments, bargaining with shady figures, doing whatever it takes to extend your life, even if it’s just a few more weeks or days. It doesn’t matter how much it costs.

♥︎ At some point, she starts finding herself hovering at your side all the time. She doesn’t want to leave. Not even to sleep. It becomes a strange routine for her, a kind of forced comfort where the silence between you is full of things neither of you are brave enough to say.

♥︎ If you’re awake enough, she’ll push your hair out of your face, but she won’t look you in the eyes. She doesn’t know how to handle the emotions you bring out in her, and it terrifies her.

♥︎ She never asks you how you’re feeling or if you want to talk about it, because she’s afraid you’ll say that you’re giving up. She can’t handle hearing it from your lips, even though she knows deep down you’re right.

♥︎ She starts to get more agitated, snapping at people who are just trying to help because nothing feels like it’s good enough. If anyone says something remotely positive about your situation, she shuts them down hard. She can’t pretend like there’s hope when there’s none.

♥︎ When you can’t leave the bed anymore, Sevika starts bringing everything to you. Food, water, medicine, books to distract you—anything to keep you from slipping further into the darkness.

♥︎ She never shows her tears, but sometimes when she thinks you’re sleeping, she finds herself staring at you, face etched with raw pain, her jaw clenched tight to hold back the wave of emotions that threatens to drown her.

♥︎ Her temper is worse than usual. She’s quick to lash out at others, mostly because she’s so incredibly fucking scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of not being able to save you. And she hates herself for not being able to fix it.

♥︎ She makes herself scarce around people when it gets worse. She’s quieter, more brooding, because the weight of her guilt and helplessness is too heavy to share. The only place she feels even a little bit in control is by your side.

♥︎ On the nights you’re too weak to speak, she holds your hand with a tightness that borders on painful. Her touch is demanding, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away in the blink of an eye.

♥︎ She doesn’t let you see her fear. Every day is a reminder of how much she’s failing you. And every time she sees that spark of hope in your eyes, it drives her mad because she knows she can’t keep it alive forever.

♥︎ As things worsen, she starts avoiding the topic of your death. It feels like a betrayal every time someone mentions it. She ignores the reality, pretending there’s a chance things will magically improve.

♥︎ When you do finally die, it feels like she’s been hit by a freight train. The finality of it leaves her in a state of shock, unable to process it. She doesn’t cry in front of you, not even when she closes your eyes for the last time.

♥︎ Sevika keeps busy after your passing. She throws herself into work, into anything that will distract her from the empty space beside her. She stops sleeping, drinking herself into oblivion, until her body can’t keep up with her broken heart.

♥︎ There are days when the memories hit her in waves. She can still hear your voice in her head, your laugh, the way you’d complain when she pushed too hard. And every time, it feels like a weight she can’t shake.

♥︎ People stop asking her how she’s doing because it’s obvious. She doesn’t need words anymore. The silence speaks for her. She’s the same outwardly—cold, distant—but internally, she’s unraveling, a mess of emotions she doesn’t know how to deal with.

♥︎ She tries to convince herself it’s better this way. You aren’t suffering anymore, and she can’t deny that you were getting worse. But she also knows she’ll never be the same again. That part of her is gone, taken by something she could never control.

♥︎ In the long run, Sevika doesn’t let anyone get close to her again. The wound you left in her will never heal, and she doesn’t think anyone could ever fill the hole you left behind. Not that she’s ready for that anyway

♥︎ But every now and then, when she’s alone, she lets herself think back to you. To the time you spent together, how you made her laugh, how you made her feel alive again. And she lets herself grieve the woman who was once hers.

[revelboo]

Please can we have some more Skids? I really enjoy where his storyline is going

Sure!

Hysteria Pt 4

Skids x Reader

• “So you don’t even really know where we’re going, but it’s to find these knights. That may or may not have existed?” You ask. Lying on your back on his berth alongside him staring up at the ceiling, you shiver as goosebumps rise along your skin from the chill in the room even with the blanket he’d given you. “But crazy stuff keeps happening?” He’d been warm, but you can’t bring yourself to ask to heat leach.

• “Well, of course it sounds bad when you say it like that,” he mutters with a smile. Trying to figure out how long the two of you have been talking. Carefully navigating a minefield of things he’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask you. Whatever had happened to you on that planet is off limits. But you’re slowly relaxing. Talking to him. “And Rodimus keeps happening.” Knowing that isn’t enough of an explanation yet. That you don’t really know the rest of the crew except what he’s told you.

• “The captain,” you say. Head turning to look at his small smile as he lifts a hand and waggles it back and forth in a sort of gesture. It’s relaxing here with him, and you need that so bad. Something that’s not normal, but as close as you’re probably going to get on a ship with aliens. To not be scared all the time. Hurt. But it’s right there at the back of your mind. All that poison and terror threatening to eat you alive.

• “Co-captain.” He corrects, head turning when you drape an arm across your eyes. “You okay? Hungry? Tired?” And you look at him, smiling at his gentle, teasing tone, but your eyes are distant. Haunted. “Talk to me. Please? If you can.” Because there’s a whisper of familiarity in your expression. Something that echoes painfully through him. Something he understands.

• “You guys are really advanced, right?” You ask, eyes closing because you can’t stand the almost pity on his face. “Do you have a way to get rid of memories? To forget stuff?” Because you don’t want to carry this forever. Want it to just be gone. Strip it away or bury it so deep it’ll never bother you again. Kill the nightmares. “Skids?”

• “Sometimes it’s better to remember. You think you want to rip it out, but that leaves gaps and then you don’t know why they’re there, just that something’s missing.” And that can be worse than the actual memories. Maybe. He just knows that he’s missing parts of himself. Feels that absence, the gaps and can’t remember what was so awful he’d removed it. Or had someone else taken those memories from him? Anxiety whispering through him, he presses his servos against his helm, smiling as it hurts. “Trust me. Forgetting doesn’t always make it better.”

Previous

[kawoala]

sorry, wrong number! — tanaka ryuunosuke. chapter seven; chrome tf up.

contents word count; 2,353. UNSAFE DRIVING PRACTICES; i do not endorse having more people than seats in a car while driving, please be safe. piercings. profanity. weird laugh nishinoya supremacy. making fun of kuroo’s age… again. oh also, kagehina implied.

< previous ; masterlist ; next >

“Well, that was bad.”

You can barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, no shit. I can’t believe I talked all that shit just for us to lose. Horribly.”

Nekoma lost. Somehow, they managed to lose 25-12 in both sets. They didn’t need to play a third because of their loss in the first two. The whole team had walked to the locker room dejected, but Karasuno had practically skipped into theirs with delight.

Tetsuro leans against the wall, and you mirror his actions, crossing your arms over your chest. Just down the hall, you can faintly hear the song Sticky playing on a speaker, paired with a few voices screaming along to the lyrics. It makes you want to roll your eyes even more. Cocky sons of—

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tetsuro tries to argue, shrugging his shoulders. “Kenma had a few good sets. ‘Tora  looked like he was working overtime. I bet he’ll feel that shit tomorrow.”

You don’t answer. Your eyes are trained on a poster in front of you, of the volleyball team. You take a few steps closer and scan the paper—not looking for Tanaka. But, your eyes do happen to land on him, and you don’t look away.

If you’re going to be honest, he looks stupid. His grin is too wide and his eyes are squinted shut and his chin is pointed up and his biceps aren’t even that big so you don’t know why he’s flexing and—

“Ramen? Again? Brother, you gotta get some real food in you, or you’re going to keel over and die. Seriously. I bet Saeko will make us some food tonight.”

It doesn’t sound familiar, but you know who it is. It doesn’t sound like how you pictured it to sound, but you know it’s Tanaka’s raspy voice bouncing off the walls. 

And when you try to look in his direction, you can’t.

It’s like your feet are cemented to the ground, head stuck in one place. You’re not even staring at the poster anymore, just spacing off into the wall. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous, but you hate it.

“Kuroo? Holy shit, no wa—” The voice cuts out and somehow you know his eyes are on you. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

The cringe that shoots through your body is enough to shake you from your nervous state. Your face scrunches up and you turn around to finally look at him. “What are you, an anime character?”

He opens his mouth, probably for some stupid retort, but his words die on his tongue. For a long, stretched out moment, he just stares at you.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He shakes his head and you look away, nodding once. “Okay, cool.”

“Dude, you’re being lame as shit right now.” A whisper, a different voice. Tanaka makes a sound of pain and from your peripheral vision, you can see Nishinoya elbow him in the stomach. “Chrome the fuck up.”

Tanaka scoffs, but it kind of turns into a snicker. “So, uh,” he clears his throat, shifting his backpack on his shoulders, “what are we waiting for? Aren’t you guys coming to my house? For Saeko, or whatever?”

“Kenma,” you and Tetsuro say at the same time. You share a glance, then shake your head. “We’re waiting for Kenma,” you say. “He takes forever in the locker room.”

Tanaka nods, rocking on his heels awkwardly.

The situation almost makes you laugh. Tanaka was so brave over text, and now? He’s acting like a middle schooler. You have to look down at the ground so they don’t see the smile on your face.

Finally—finally—Kenma comes out of the locker room, bag slung over his shoulder, eyes glued to his phone. What an iPad kid.

“You’re such an iPad kid,” Tetsuro says, rolling his eyes. “We’ve been waiting for, like, fifteen minutes. How difficult is it to change clothes?”

“I’m a minor, please stop talking to me.” Kenma doesn’t even look up from his phone. You snicker slightly and bump his shoulder as he walks past. At that, he looks up. “Are we leaving, or what?”

“If by leaving you mean going to Tanaka’s, then yes.” You nod, then look over at Tanaka and smile. “Well? Lead the way.”

You don’t know how or why, but somehow you pick up two more kids on your way out: Hinata, Kenma’s orange-haired friend, and Kageyama, Hinata’s freakishly quiet friend. Though, you use the term friend loosely, because you don’t think they can really be friends when Kageyama looks at him like that.

And then, somehow, Tanaka convinces everyone to pile up into one car. Seven people in a five-seater car. Tanaka is driving, you’re sitting in the passenger seat, and Nishinoya and Hinata are sitting on the ground in the backseat, while the other three sit in the actual seats. It’s not safe, by any means, but it is fun when a good song starts playing and everyone starts belting the lyrics. They’re all yelling over each other, Tanaka can barely keep his eyes on the road, the two on the floor are complaining about their backs, Tetsuro keeps saying that they’re going to get pulled over, and you haven’t stopped laughing since you got in the car.

You keep glancing over at Tanaka, though not on purpose. It’s like there’s a string that keeps pulling you towards him, a feeling you’ve never felt before. He’s so . . . in his element. He’s making people laugh, surrounded by friends—this is what being truly confident in yourself looks like. And he has that right, to be 100% confident. Admittedly, you watched him on the court more than you watched your own team. There’s something so enticing about him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

Eventually, you make it to his house. It’s a small house, but it’s nice. The inside isn’t decorated too much, but there are quite a few pictures hanging on the walls and sitting on various end tables and cabinets. Tanaka and his sister when they were younger, them and their dad at theme parks, school pictures—you can’t help but notice the lack of a mother in the pictures. You press your lips together and stop looking at them.

All of the boys pile into the house and it suddenly hits you that you’re hanging out with a bunch of teenage boys. You scrunch your nose up and quietly sigh. Where’s Saeko when you need her?

“Saeko! Your client is here!” Tanaka’s voice is much too loud for how close everyone is to him, but he doesn’t seem to care. When no one calls back to him, he takes a deep breath and shouts louder. “Saeko!”

The sound of a door crashing open echoes throughout the house, then stomps coming from further inside the house. You’re all still standing by the front door, talking about different things. 

“What do you want, you little twerp?” A voice rings out. Saeko. You smile at the name calling. “I try to have a little peace and quiet while you’re gone and—“ she stops talking when she comes into view. “Oh.” She blinks a few times, taking in the teenagers in front of her. “Yeah, thanks for telling me we had guests, Ryuu.” She smiles sarcastically and you snicker. You love her already.

“Hi,” you say, bowing slightly. “I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for, uh, agreeing to pierce me? It was very nice of you—especially since it was such short notice.”

“Oh, I like you.” She smiles and hums. “Also, please don’t bow. I’m older than you, but I’m not old. Just treat me like a friend. Actually, we’re friends now. You can call me Sae. Come on, let’s get this shit set up.”

She turns on her heel and begins to walk the way she came from. You glance back at Tetsuro and raise your brows. He shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “Mom is so going to kill us,” he mumbles.

And then your eyes unconsciously flit to Tanaka. You’re half-surprised to see that he’s already looking at you, a small, crooked smile on his face. You can feel your face heat up and you look away. It’s so pathetic how he makes you feel. You follow Saeko’s footsteps, to where you think she went.

You find her in the bathroom, where a few piercing tools are laid out on the sink. You swallow hard upon seeing them.

“It’ll be fine,” Saeko reassures as she pulls on a pair of black medical gloves. She pops a bubble with the gum you didn’t know she was chewing. “You look like a tough cookie.”

There’s a stampede of footsteps down the hallway that stops right before the door. You turn around to find all the boys staring into the bathroom, eyes wide.

“Hey! Don’t you guys know what privacy is? Jesus, get outta here!” Saeko flails her arm in their direction and a few of them flinch.

“No, no. It’s okay!” You reassure, laughing a little. “They can stay, I don’t mind. But if they make fun of me for crying like a baby, will you kick their asses for me?”

She snickers, and nods. “Hell yeah.”

One of them audibly swallows and a wave of laughter rolls over the boys. You laugh too, glancing at Tanaka to see him smile. Jesus, you are so screwed.

“Okay.” Saeko claps her hands together and sighs quickly. “Can you sit on the counter for me? I have to sanitize your nose.”

You nod, not hesitating to hop up on the sink. She wipes your nose down with an alcohol wipe. It kind of burns, but you don’t say anything. She tells you that the instruments she’s using are sanitized, which is why they’re in a bag.

And then she puts a dot on your nostril, where she’s going to pierce. You look in the mirror, check the placement, and accidentally catch Tanaka’s eyes. He gives you a small, encouraging smile and it really does calm you down. 

“Looks perfect,” you say to Saeko, smiling nervously. “In your professional opinion, how much will this hurt?”

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. That doesn’t really help much, though, because she has about thirteen visible piercings and you’re sure her pain tolerance is much higher than yours. She puts the clamp in place and raises her brows. “Ready?”

You glance to the doorway, where all the boys have worried looks on their face, and take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut. You keep them like that and say, “as I’ll ever be.”

The next few seconds seem to pass in slow motion. You can’t see anything, but you can sense her hand coming closer to your face. The needle touches your skin and you almost flinch, but resist. There’s a sharp pain and then—

“I’m gonna put in the jewelry now, ‘kay?”

There’s some more jostling of the clamp and then something else slides into place. The clamp leaves your nose and then you can no longer feel her hands by your face.

Slowly, you peel your eyes open. Saeko is smiling at you, wide and almost unhinged. “All done,” she says. “Take a look.”

You turn around and look in the mirror once again, the blue dot now replaced by a stud. There’s redness, but no blood. You turn your head a little, looking at it from the side and from the front. It looks good—you look good.

A small giggle escapes your mouth and you smile, wider than ever. “Oh my god,” you mumble. You turn back to Saeko and laugh. “My mom is going to kill me.”

“You look so cute, though,” she shakes her head, pressing her lips together. “Maybe if you wear a Kakashi-style mask, she won’t notice.”

“A sheisty, if you will.” It’s the first time Tanaka has spoken in a while, but his comment gets a giggle out of you and makes him smile. God, that stupid, stupid smile. 

“If you will,” Nishinoya repeats, doubling over in laughter. Was it really that funny? His laugh is weird and loud and so ridiculous that everyone else starts laughing. When you laugh with them, you feel like you’re where you belong.

“Okay, who’s hungry?” Saeko asks, halting the laughter of everyone. Simultaneously, everyone’s hands shoot up in the air. “Right. I’m cooking for a small army, got it.”

The food Saeko makes is ridiculously good. The boys practically eat the Tanaka’s out of house and home with how much they consume. The table is completely full, more laughter filling the house.

You belatedly realize that Tanaka is really funny. You also realize that, yeah, you like him. And it’s not some huge moment, where time slows down and a romantic song plays in the background. 

You realize it as he looks at you, smiling, and you snort out a laugh when you spot some food stuck in his braces.

“What? What’s so funny? I didn’t even say anything.”

“You have—” you can’t even finish your sentence. You gesture to your mouth, hoping he gets the hint, but he just tilts his head. “There’s— oh my god.”

He laughs too, but it sounds more confused than yours. “You’re starting to freak me out, Y/n. What are you laughing at?”

“There’s food in your braces!” You finally manage to say. You have to set down your bowl so you don’t spill anything—that’s how hard you’re laughing.

His face turns bright red and he moves so fast that he spills his bowl of food all over his lap. He stands up quickly, hissing at how hot it is. And, of course, that only makes you laugh harder. 

And then it hits you. You like this kid. You like his stupid jokes and his stupid smile and his stupid braces and the stupid way he moves on the court and the stupid way he’s able to make you laugh so easily.

You are so astronomically fucked.

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[bellarkeselection]

My Forever Wrangler

Requested by @hayvenleave Reader and Tyler are high school sweethearts and got married, but reader feels a little off when Tyler starts getting closer with Kate

My first ever Tyler request ( hope I did a good job 😊 )

Some people say don’t marry your high school sweetheart because you’ll always be living in the past. Others say it’s the greatest thing in the world. I chose to believe it’s the best thing I ever did, at least until I saw my husband getting close to our newest team member Kate.

“You know uh - EF1 or EF5 tornado rating. It’s not based on size or wind speed. The power we ascribe is based on damage. It’s only really after the fact we can really define it. What it destroys, takes from us.” My husband crossed the room towards Kate, gently raising a hand to her cheek brushing falling tears from her face. “I’m sorry for what happened. But how much more are you going to let this thing take from you?”

“Tyler.” Kate leans forward up on her toes looking like she was about to kiss him before I sharply gasped altering my presence in the doorway of the barn.

The pair turned their heads in my direction separating from how close they were to one another before I had said something. “Y/n, I didn’t - it’s not what it looks like.” My husband attempted to say but I spun on my heels and stomped out of the barn they were in making our way back to the main house that we were staying at.

“Y/n, Y/n wait. Hey, wait, wait.” I heard Tyler calling my name but I ignored him and just kept walking away from him.

Suddenly something wrapped around my waist and yanked me backwards where I screamed hitting whatever or more so whoever had done that. “Ahhh! Tyler, what the hell - how did you do that with a garden hose?” Lifting my head up I met his gaze seeing that he had made a nearby hose a makeshift lasso.

“I used to do rodeo, remember.” He reminded me.

Dropping my gaze weakly I made a noise. “Oh right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t know another way for to stop and listen to me when I tell you that nothing happened between me and Kate back there.” He began explaining to me while I pushed the garden hose down my legs and get it off of me. Tossing the hose into the nearby bushes I didn’t want him to get another chance to use his charming rodeo skills on me for a second time.

“It didn’t look that way to me, Owens.”

Tyler gave me a sad look hearing me call him Owens rather than by his first name. I usually only called him by his last name when I was really pissed at him for something and he that because we were best friends. “Y/n, I know that you’re angry with me. But I swear nothing has been going on between me and Kate-“

“Then why did it look like you were going to kiss here when you guys were talking in the barn huh?” Crossing my arms over my chest I scowled at my husband.

He gently touched my shoulders locking his gaze with mine. “She went to kiss me, not the other way around. I would never do anything to lose you.”

“That’s awfully similar to what you told me when Penny Brooke wanted to kiss you at Junior prom.” I glared at him bringing up the night he had asked me to with him and another girl at our high school was all over him.

He slightly rolled his eyes at the memory. “Yes, she had her hands all over me. But again she tried to kiss me. And I think you’re forgetting that night I left with you and that’s when I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I guess so.” Looking at my muddy boots I tucked some hair behind my ear. He has always been by my side and the night we started dating he was only about me and no other girl in our school. “Can you forgive me for overacting?”

Tyler nodded extending a hand out to me. “I can never stay mad at you, darling. Now will you let me up for my mistake of not spending enough time with my girl.”

“What do you have in mind, cowboy?” I tilted my head to the side waiting for his answer.

He smirked leading me to his truck helping me inside the passenger seat of the vehicle. “Go back to the good old days, just you and me. Me driving a truck and you filming our adventures on your YouTube channel.” He sits a small iPad in my lap that he had taken out of his glove box.

Tyler was the one who had went to college and got a degree. Yet he trusted me to manage his YouTube channel just like I did when we would mess around chasing storms on our dates before we tied the knot. “I can’t believe you kept my old YouTube account active after all these years. We were making videos when we were so young and reckless.” Scrolling through the old video lists I chuckled looking at the profile picture of me and Tyler. The picture was me hanging off Tyler’s back with a tornado forming behind us in the sky.

“You were my first tornado chasing partner.”

Waving my index finger in his face I teased. “That’s favorite tornado wrangler partner to you.”

“Now and always, baby.” Tyler removed his cowboy hat from his head placing it on mine. I chuckled pushing it up since it fell down in my face from the fact that it too big on me. “Sorry bout that. I’ll buy you your own hat.”

Leaning across the console I kissed him gently on the lips. “Nah. What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.”

“Sounds like a good feeling to chase, Ms. Owens.” Tyler cupped the side of my face kissing me before we sat back in our seats and kicked up dust leaving the driveway in search of a nearby storm we could chase just the two of us like the good old days.

Comments really and appreciated along with reblogs ❤️

[thequeenofcurses]

Death of a Bachelor Part 2

The Wedding

summary: you're marrying the one and only special grade sorcerer: ryomen sukuna. wk: 5.1k (sry)

<- Part 1

Sukuna POV | 3:00 am

“You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t believe it was worth it,” Nanami’s words echoed in Sukuna’s head throughout the night, sneaking into his dreams. Was tying himself down, forever, really the right decision?

Sukuna tossed and turned before eventually he just sat up and threw his covers off of him. He didn’t bother to throw a shirt on and walked straight to the kitchen. Maybe some water will help. He chugged the glass then drank another and another, yet his head still remained foggy. Fuck. I’ve never felt like this before. What the hell is this?

Not wanting to bother waking you with a text or call, Sukuna unlocks his phone and types a message to the one person he can trust to talk to right now. His assistant.

Sukuna: I know you’re awake. You want to swing by? Uraume: No. Sukuna: I wasn’t asking Uraume: IT’S 3AM SUKUNA! Sukuna: Look I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, just get over here.

Ten minutes pass until Uraume’s short figure is knocking at Sukuna’s door. They quickly enter Sukuna’s security code and just walk through the door, finding a shirtless Sukuna downing another glass of water in his kitchen. 

“You made it,” Sukuna’s voice was lighter than his normal tone. You and Uraume are the only two people who get to see or hear that side of him. “I know it’s late, I just– ”

“Nervous?” Uraume concluded with a nod.

“I don’t get nervous.”

“Sure…” The silence was thick enough to slice through the air. “So, why was I summoned here at three am.”

“Stop acting like you weren’t already awake.”

“Maybe I was busy.”

“You don’t have a life,” Sukuna smirked. “I am your life.”

“Whatever,” the white haired assistant grumbled with an eye roll. They sat on a barstool near the kitchen island, arms together, waiting for an explanation. 

Sukuna paced. “I don’t want any more damn water, but –” he walked back and forth around his large kitchen. “I love y/n, I really do. But for the first time in my life, something is happening to me that I can’t just overcome with my raw strength or power. It’s… unsettling.”

Uraume raised an eyebrow, watching as Sukuna continued his pacing like a caged animal. “You’re unsettled because this isn’t something you can just fight your way through. You actually have to feel it.”

Sukuna stopped mid-step, scowling at them. “Tch. Don’t start getting all philosophical on me.”

Uraume shrugged. “Just saying. You’re afraid of something, and it sure as hell isn’t her.”

Sukuna exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not afraid.” The words came out too fast, too defensive. Even he could hear it. He turned, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. “It’s just… different. No opponent. No enemy. Just me deciding to be with her. And no matter how strong I am, I can’t control the future.”

Uraume tilted their head. “So? You still want to marry her, don’t you?”

Sukuna’s jaw clenched. His thoughts flickered to you, your laughter, the way you challenged him without fear, your unmistakable otherworldly beauty, your strength, the way your nails dig into his back when he’s giving it to you so good. The way your touch softened the jagged edges of his world.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “More than anything.”

Uraume smirked, standing up. “Then quit your bitching and go to sleep. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

Sukuna groaned. “You’re so damn annoying.”

“Just returning the favor.”After a hug and a promise to be early at the wedding, Uraume let themself out. Sukuna trugged back to his bed and tried to get some rest. He really did try. His mind was flooded with thoughts of you and the joy you bring him. From memories of how you two met, fighting curses together, your first date, to the moment he proposed to you.

Fuck it. I have to see her.

Your window was unlocked. Again. As frustrating as it was, you forgetting to lock it, Sukuna was glad he had an easy way to get inside your room. Damn it, woman he thought. You’re gonna be the death of me.

You’re mumbling in your sleep when the movement and sound of your blankets rustling cause you to wake. You blink back your tiredness, head still pounding from the previous night. It takes a few moments until you spot those iconic black tattoos. Sukuna had made his way into your bed.

“K-kuna?” you gasp confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I just,” he started. He gently placed a large hand on your head, running it through your hair. “I needed to see you.”

“You know, it’s bad luck to see a bride on the day of her wedding,” you joked. Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding him close as you nuzzle into his touch. “You okay?”

“Tch. Of course, I am,” he scoffs, but the way his thumb brushes against your cheek betrays his words.

You hum sleepily, watching his sharp eyes soften under the dim light. “You sure? Because I think you might be the one getting cold feet.”

Sukuna huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re really testing me, sweetheart.”

You grin lazily. “Just making sure you’re not gonna ditch me at the altar.”

His grip tightens slightly, just enough to remind you of his strength. “I should be worried about you running off,” he mutters. “Wouldn’t put it past you to get second thoughts at the last second.”

You let out a soft giggle, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

“Good.” There’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “You better not change your mind, woman. If you leave me at the altar, I’ll burn the whole damn city down.”

Your body leans into him, so naturally. He gives you another kiss, this time on your mouth. And then another, each kiss getting more and more dominating. “I should take you right now. Make sure you know exactly who you belong to before you walk down that aisle.”

You gasp into his mouth, nodding at his offer. He’s already seen you. Your wedding luck can’t get any worse if you let him have his way with you. Each kiss of his seemingly takes your breath away. You're panting like an animal before Sukuna finally slows down, gripping the sheets instead. This isn’t the time, he thinks to himself.

As your breathing evens out, Sukuna pulls back, letting you lay on his chest. It only takes a few moments before you’re drifting off again and he’s watching the way your lips part slightly in sleep. His hand drags over your blankets before he finally pulls away, slipping out as quietly as he came. After seeing you, his head is clearer than ever. Once Sukuna reaches his home, he’s finally able to peacefully sleep.

The next time Sukuna opens his eyes, golden sunlight spills across his sheets, creeping up his bare chest like a silent reminder that today is the day.

For the first time in hours, he feels rested. No more restless pacing, no more unanswered questions. He knows what he wants. And in just a few hours, you’ll be his.

A sharp knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts.

“Get up,” Uraume’s voice cuts through the morning stillness. “It’s your wedding day.”

Sukuna exhales through his nose, running a hand down his face before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. As soon as he opens the door, Uraume pushes past him, already assessing the situation with their usual cold efficiency.

"At least you don’t look like shit," they remark, scanning his face.

Sukuna smirks. “And here I thought you were gonna say something sentimental.”

“Why would I start now?” Uraume shoves a garment bag into his chest. “Shower then get dressed.”

Sukuna sighs but doesn’t argue. He strips out of his sweatpants and steps into the bathroom, quickly showering before putting on his crisp, custom-tailored suit waiting for him. Black and red, sleek, fitted to perfection, because of course, he refuses to look anything less than perfect. His hands move on instinct, buttoning the cuffs, adjusting the collar.

As he fastens the last button, Uraume watches him carefully. “You’re really doing this.”

Sukuna meets their gaze in the mirror. His reflection stares back, tattoos sharp against his skin, eyes burning with something rare and untamed.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I am.”

A rare, knowing smile tugs at Uraume’s lips. “Then let’s go. Can’t have your bride waiting.”

The ride to the shrine is quiet. Sukuna stares out the tinted window, fingers tapping idly against his knee. Uraume sits beside him, but neither of them speak. There’s nothing to say.

For the first time in years, he’s not walking into a battlefield. No enemies to kill, no grudges to settle. Just a shrine filled with people waiting for him to witness him make a promise he never thought he’d be the type to make.

The car slows to a stop just outside Meiji Jingu Shrine, its towering torii gate standing tall against the early morning sky. The sun filters through the dense forest surrounding the grounds, casting golden rays onto the stone pathways leading to the main shrine complex. The air is crisp, laced with the faint scent of cypress and incense.

As soon as Sukuna steps out, a familiar voice calls his name.

"Uncle Sukuna!"

He turns just in time to catch Yuji barreling toward him, weaving past guests and attendants. The kid skids to a stop right before impact, grinning up at him with the same bright-eyed excitement that always makes Sukuna sigh. Choso follows at a slower pace, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his formal kimono, his expression more reserved.

"You look cool," Yuji says, rocking on his heels. "Like, scary cool. But also, like… kinda groom-y."

Sukuna scoffs. "That supposed to be a compliment?"

Yuji nods enthusiastically. "Obviously."

Choso elbows him lightly. "Don’t be annoying." Then, turning to Sukuna, he hesitates before muttering, "You clean up well."

Sukuna raises a brow. "That’s the best I’m getting?"

Choso shrugs. "Yeah."

Tch. Brats.

Still, he ruffles Yuji’s hair, earning a squawk of protest, and nods at Choso in acknowledgment. This was it. His nephews, the only family he had. And somehow, knowing they were here made something settle in his chest.

"Alright," Uraume cuts in, ever the practical one. "It’s time."

Sukuna exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders. Then, without another word, he steps beneath the torii gate, following the path leading toward the main shrine, where the rest of his life is waiting.

The path toward the shrine is lined with guests, all of them bowing their heads in respect. Sukuna doesn’t care for the formalities, but he appreciates their sincerity. This isn’t a day for indulgence or power, this is something deeper. Something... personal.

Yuji and Choso follow closely behind him, their presence a reminder of why he's here. His nephews, his family. The only ones who ever mattered to him. Their voices barely audible above the murmur of the crowd, until they scramble off to find their seats.

The main shrine comes into view, an elegant structure framed by tall trees and hanging lanterns. The guests are seated in rows, faces mostly unfamiliar, though a few nod their heads in recognition as he approaches.

He can already feel the weight of all their eyes on him. The anticipation. The expectation.

Just before he reaches the steps leading to the shrine, he quietly hands Uraume a small velvet box from his pocket. They take it without question.

It felt absurd to be holding onto them – the rings. Marriage, commitment, wasn’t something he ever saw himself doing. But here he is, with his past behind him and a future he never expected waiting ahead.

As he ascends the stairs, his mind drifts to you. You’re just beyond these doors. Waiting.

He could hear the soft murmurs of the crowd, feel their gazes tracing his every movement.

There’s no turning back now.

The thought flickers across his mind, but before he can give it too much attention, Nanami’s voice cuts through his thoughts, clear and sharp: “You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t believe it was worth it.”

His lips curl into a smirk, but there’s no denying the truth in those words. He’s here because, despite everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, this matters.

He doesn’t know when it happened, when you became more than just a fleeting moment in his life. The woman who challenged him. Who made him feel things he couldn’t control.

It doesn’t matter.

Sukuna steps inside the shrine, his heart thrumming in his chest, loud enough for him to hear it over the soft sounds of the ceremony music.

Nanami’s words echo again, not just in his mind, but in the space around him. The weight of the promise he’s about to make settles in with a gravity he can’t ignore.This is worth it. For you.

The moment the ceremony begins, Sukuna stands at the altar, his gaze momentarily flickering toward the door. The air is thick with anticipation, and the soft rustle of the crowd fades into a distant hum. Then, like a dream unfolding before his eyes, you step into the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the temple’s sacred light.

Your wedding dress is a vision of elegance, designed to make even the most confident man lose his composure. The black and red fabric hugs your body in all the right places before cascading into a soft, layered skirt that flows gracefully as you move. The lace is so soft, almost translucent, a whisper of romance in every stitch. The long, flowing train drags gently behind you, catching the light with each step, creating an almost dreamlike aura as you make your way toward Sukuna.

His breath catches in his throat the second his eyes land on you, and for a moment, the world around him blurs. His heart beats a little faster, more erratically than usual, as if the weight of the moment has hit him all at once. You're breathtaking. This vision of you in this dress, is nothing like anything he ever imagined. He can’t look away, his sharp red eyes drinking in the sight of you as though he's afraid this moment will slip away if he dares to blink.

Sukuna can’t help but feel a tightness in his chest as he watches you approach, the red veil adding to your allure, making the moment feel all the more surreal. This woman, walking towards him, is no longer just the one who challenged him: she is the one who has captured his heart in a way he never thought possible.

You walk toward him, and despite the crowd’s presence, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to pull you into his arms, but he remains still, unable to tear his gaze away. His heart swells with pride, love, and an emotion he rarely allows himself to feel so fully. You are his everything.

On your slow descent toward the love of your life, you hear lots of happy chants and whistles from your co-workers. The loudest of them all being from the one and only Satoru Gojo. You shake your head at his aloofness and keep your composure.

When you reach the altar, Sukuna’s hand finally moves, the tremor in his fingers betraying his usual confident demeanor. He reaches out for you, his thumb brushing against your hand as if confirming you're really here, with him, in this moment. The dress, the ceremony, everything fades as he pulls you closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're perfect," Sukuna mutters under his breath, a soft growl of appreciation that somehow, only you can hear. There's a flicker of something deep in his eyes, something tender, something real. His lips press together in a firm line as he forces himself to maintain his composure, but the awe in his expression is undeniable.

Like a deadly silent ninja, Uraume quickly sneaks past the old priest to hand him the rings then back to their seat. 

The priest smiles, happily accepting them. The soft murmur of the crowd fades into silence as you and Sukuna stand facing each other, hands clasped tightly. 

“We gather today to witness the union of y/n and Sukuna under the guidance of the kami," the short man starts. "Let us call upon the divine spirits to bless this marriage.” The man opens up the box with the rings, then gestures for you and Sukuna to take them. He nods, signalling for you two to state your vows.

The weight of the moment hangs between you; this promise, these words, are more than just tradition. They're a reflection of everything you've both experienced, everything you’ve shared, and everything that lies ahead.

Sukuna’s gaze doesn’t waver from you as he begins, his voice steady but filled with depth, “I won’t lie and say I always believed in something like this. In love, in a promise like marriage. But you, Y/N… you’re different. You’ve turned everything I knew upside down. You’ve made me want to be someone better. So today, I vow to you, with everything I am, that I will never stop fighting for you.” He takes your ring and slides it onto your finger.

His voice drops lower, softer, yet the intensity of his words cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and true. “I vow to protect you, no matter the cost. To shield you from the world, and to make sure that, for as long as I breathe, nothing comes between us. You are mine, and I am yours. And I will never, ever let you go. Even if the world itself crumbles, I will stand by your side.”

He pauses, his eyes softening as they meet yours. For a brief moment, you catch the flicker of vulnerability in them, something raw, something real. He inhales, then continues, his words heavy with sincerity, “I vow to stand by your side, not just as your husband, but as your equal. To never let you feel alone, to always listen when you speak, and to give you everything I have. My loyalty, my strength, and all my love.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, a rush of emotions surging through you. Sukuna, the same man who once swore he’d never be tied down, now stands before you, giving you these promises, words that hold weight far beyond what any ring or ceremony could represent. The tears you are fighting so hard to keep back start to overflow, softly drifting down your cheeks.

His lips curl into a rare, soft smile, one only you could elicit, and he finishes, his voice steady but imbued with something deeper than words, “I vow to be yours in every way, now and forever.”

The crowd stays silent, but you feel the energy of the moment, the promise that is now sealed between you both.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity of what you’re about to say, and when you speak, your voice is clear and unwavering, despite the emotions swirling inside you. “I used to believe that love was just a word, a concept meant to keep people tied to promises they couldn’t keep. But then you came into my life, and everything changed. You showed me that love isn’t just about words or gestures. It’s about the actions, the choices we make, every single day.”

You take his ring and slide it onto his finger, your hands trembling slightly. “So today, I vow to you that I will stand by you, in the good and the bad, when the world is bright and when it’s dark. I vow to never give up on us, no matter the challenges we face. I promise to face them with you, because together, we’re unstoppable.”

You take another breath, meeting his eyes with a fierce sincerity. “I vow to love you, with everything I have, every single day. To choose you, even when it’s hard, and to never let go of what we’ve built. I promise to be your strength when you falter, your peace when the world is too much, and your home, always.”

A brief moment of silence passes between you, as if the weight of your words is sinking in, deep into your hearts. 

“I vow to honor you, not just as my husband, but as my equal, my partner, my family,” you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. “I’ll never let you feel unimportant, never let you feel alone. You’re the reason I can face the future with hope. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never have to face it without me by your side.”

Sukuna’s breath catches at the weight of your words, and for a moment, you both are lost in each other’s gaze—the vows hanging in the air, binding you together forever.

Finally, the old priest smiles, his voice soft as he claps and says, “You have both expressed your vows, your promises to each other. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

The crowd exhales in unison, the sound of applause echoing through the shrine, but all Sukuna hears is the steady rhythm of his heart. Out of the corner of his eye, Sukuna sees Geto throwing his fist into the air and Gojo waving a sign that says “Death of a Bachelor.” (Gojo’s handwriting is abysmal)

Without hesitation, Sukuna’s hand tightens around yours, and he leans down, pushing back your veil, pulling you close. His lips meet yours in a kiss that’s anything but soft. It’s rough, commanding, and filled with the intensity of everything he’s promised. It’s a kiss that doesn’t hold back, just as he never does. The passion behind it burns hot, sealing the vows with the raw, undeniable force of his love. The tenderness he’s capable of is there, but it’s wrapped in the fierceness that defines him: no hesitation, no doubt.

For a brief moment, time stands still, the kiss, everything and nothing all at once, and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is real. This is your forever.

The after-party began immediately, the transition from ceremony to celebration seamless. After a few obligatory photos, some formal, some candid (and more than a few where Sukuna looked like he was barely tolerating the process), he wasted no time leading you to the dance floor, his grip firm yet possessive around your hand.

The guests expected the first dance to be a typical “slow, romantic, something traditional” type song. Instead, the opening chords of Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters" echoed through the venue, the deep, familiar melody sending a ripple of surprise through the crowd.

You looked up at Sukuna, half amused, half touched. Of course, he'd do something unexpected. And yet, as he pulled you into his arms, swaying with effortless confidence, you knew there wasn’t a song more fitting for the two of you.

Your hands slid up to rest behind his neck, fingers tracing the short hairs at his nape. He held your waist, guiding you with an ease that made it feel as if you'd danced together a thousand times before. The world faded away as you moved in sync, each step, each turn, every brush of your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understood.

Sukuna leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured along with the song, his voice husky and deliberate. “No, nothing else matters.”

Your chest tightened, your heart swelling with so much joy it felt like it might burst. You tilted your head back just enough to meet his gaze, and the look in his eyes made your stomach flip. There was no one else in this moment. Just you and him.

When the song ended, a small, energetic pink blur rushed toward you.

"Uncle Sukuna, dance with me!" Yuji beamed up at him, his excitement boundless as he tugged on his sleeve. Behind him, Choso and Nanami approached, both at a more measured pace, Nanami looking like he wasn’t quite sure how he ended up here.

Sukuna let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "Tch. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, brat."

Yuji just grinned wider, grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the dance floor. The sight of Sukuna, formidable, untouchable Sukuna, humoring a child in the middle of his own wedding made your heart swell even more. Even Choso looked a little softer as he stood beside you, watching his little brother with something close to fondness.

Maybe someday you can have your own child with him.

You used the moment to mingle, accepting congratulations from guests, exchanging a few teasing words with Utahime, and even sharing a drink with Shoko and Nanami, who looked vaguely exhausted, but resigned to the festivities.

Eventually, Sukuna found his way back to you, as if drawn by an invisible thread, like he couldn’t stand to be away from you for too long. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“It’ll be time for us to go soon,” he murmured, his voice low and promising. “I’ve got plans for us.” The smirk he wore was nothing short of sinful, and the heat in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers curled into his jacket, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “What kind of plans?”

Sukuna chuckled, his grip tightening just enough to make you feel it. “You’ll find out soon enough, sweetheart.”

And with that, the night continued, filled with laughter, stolen kisses, and the unshakable certainty that no matter what came next, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

As the night stretched on, laughter and music filled the air, the energy never waning. But soon, the time came for the final part of the evening: the send-off. 

Surprisingly, Mei Mei had volunteered to help pack your honeymoon wardrobe. Probably, because she got to shop for everything herself, and the world knows that woman can shop.

Someone, probably Uraume, had rallied the guests to gather outside, lining the grand pathway leading to the sleek, black car waiting at the end. Lanterns and soft golden lights illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the night. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as everyone took their place, sparklers in hand, the flickering embers mirroring the stars overhead.

Sukuna stood beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders in a loose but possessive hold. He watched the scene with a raised brow, clearly unimpressed by the theatrics. "Tch. Is all this really necessary?"

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “Let them have their fun. It’s not every day the mighty Sukuna gets married.”

His smirk was sharp as he leaned in. “Not every day someone makes me want to.”

The moment the two of you stepped forward, the crowd erupted into cheers. Sparks danced in the air as the sparklers lit up the path, and you felt the heat of Sukuna’s palm as he laced his fingers with yours. He led you forward, your steps slow at first, taking in the smiling faces, the warmth, the love that surrounded you.

Yuji and Ino were the loudest, waving their sparklers aggressively. Nanami stood off to the side, his nod of approval as subtle as ever. Uraume watched from the distance, arms crossed, but their lips twitched slightly, almost like they were proud.

Gojo, of course, was the most obnoxious.

“MY BOY! LOOK AT HIM!” He whistled loudly, practically bouncing on his feet. “DIDN’T THINK I’D LIVE TO SEE THE DAY!”

Shoko, standing beside him with a drink in hand, smirked. “I give it six months before she realizes what a pain in the ass he is.”

Mei Mei hummed in amusement. “I would’ve put money on him staying a bachelor forever. Guess love really does make fools out of us all.”

Geto chuckled from beside her, arms crossed. “If nothing else, it’ll be entertaining to see him domesticated.”

Sukuna acted as if he hadn’t heard any of them, but you felt the way his fingers flexed slightly around yours, the way his grip tightened like he was restraining himself from turning around and making very impolite comments.

Halfway down the path, Sukuna suddenly stopped. Before you could ask why, he turned to face you, eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable. Then, in front of everyone, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a deep, searing kiss, one meant to remind you, and everyone watching, exactly who you belonged to.

The crowd lost it.

Yuji let out a dramatic groan. “OH COME ON! GET A ROOM!”

Gojo cheered obnoxiously. “YEAH! THAT’S MY KING!” He clapped loudly, nudging Geto. “Tell me that wasn’t the smoothest shit you’ve ever seen.”

Geto sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. “I hate that I agree with you.”

Shoko rolled her eyes, raising her drink. “Cheers to that poor woman. She’s in for a lifetime of that.”

A mixture of cheers, whistles, and dramatic groans (most likely from Yuji) filled the air. When he pulled back, Sukuna looked maddeningly pleased with himself. “Had to make sure they know you're mine before I take you away.”

Your breath was shaky, but you managed to roll your eyes. “Pretty sure they already know.” You wave your hand with the wedding ring and wiggle your fingers.

With that, he led you the rest of the way to the car. The door was held open, and before you could so much as settle in, Sukuna was right beside you, his hand already back on your thigh. The car pulled away, the glow of the sparklers fading into the distance, and with it, the last remnants of the wedding night.

Sukuna exhaled, finally alone with you. His fingers traced slow circles over your skin. “You ready for the real fun to begin?”

Your stomach fluttered, anticipation thick in the air. “I should be asking you that.”

His grin was sharp, dangerous. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea what you're in for.”

And with that, your honeymoon truly began.

<- Part 1

A/N I meant for this to be short, but I got carried away writing. I hope you guys enjoy the fluff though <3 Only one more chapter left of this story :)

not sure if you wanted to be tagged but just in case you did: @moonchhu

masterlist | jjk masterlist

[miyuka1709]

I want to write Sommie but I'm lazy and also I have no idea what to do with her, her psyche, her themes.

So I decided to just play the Stranger route and write down all her possible dialogues alongside Sinist's.

(Spoilers for Chapter II : The Stranger under the cut)

> For all I know, you're locked up down here for a reason. Do you know why you're down here?

Somber : “But you know, right? You have to know. You're the only other person I've ever seen, or at least the only one I can remember. Don't give me false hope. Please just end this already. One way or another, just do it.”

Sinister : “Don’t be coy. We both know why I'm locked away here. I'm a monster, and the second I get out of this place, I'm going to end the entire world.”

> You're apparently a threat to the world. I was sent here to slay you.

Sinister : “Because I am. Everything you've heard about me is true, and I am going to lay waste to everything. Starting with you.”

> If I let you out of here, what are you going to do?

Sinister : “Besides, you already know what I'm going to do.”

Somber : “If you want to put an end to me, then put an end to me.”

> Getting down here was… weird. Like I was pulled apart and put back together again. Do you know what happened to me?

Somber : “We're probably stuck down here forever, aren't we? There's no way out, and barely a way in.”

Sinister : (Oho~) “I thought they would send something better to deal with me. If the stairs managed to chew you up, I will devour you.”

> What's your name?

Somber : “It doesn't matter. I've been down here for so long. What's the point of a name if there's no one around to use it?”

Sinister : “I don't need a name. My name is whatever hushed whispers follow in the wake of my devastation.”

> There's more of you now

Somber : “I don't feel like I've gotten any bigger.”

Sinister : “It must be fear creeping into your heart. You know you can't stop me.”

---

Now I just have to spend a week thinking about what to do about them and trying to come up with a somewhat unique voice for their chapter IIs

Somber/Hopeless is basically Broken if he was a Princess? Whiny, sad, seeks peace, safety, comfort, passive.

Sinister is basically Nightmare Princess but less scary or powerful.

Now what

[frozenmxngo]

✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧ pt. 2

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader ✧ part two, word count 12.6k ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: panic attacks, social anxiety, mute!reader, swearing, angst, verbal abuse, eventual smut, virgin!reader, slow burn?, trauma, fluff, a bit of self-hatred (let me know if i missed anything! i’ll add more tags for each part as needed)

✧ an: so sorry for the delay in getting this part out!! it’s been such a busy week! the next part should be out much sooner than this one. thank you!!

MASTERLIST « previous - next »

Jiwon shifts the car into park but doesn’t move to get out, slumping back in her seat with a dramatic groan.

"I don’t wanna leave—it’s too warm in here."

Y/N glances at her, amused, as she adjusts the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Outside, the late fall air is crisp, biting at the windows, but inside the car, the heater hums softly, wrapping them in a comfortable warmth.

Jiwon turns her head, eyeing Y/N’s outfit with clear disapproval. “Are you seriously wearing that?” She gestures at Y/N’s lightweight jacket. “It’s freezing.”

Y/N tugs at her scarf in response, as if to prove a point.

Jiwon scoffs. “Oh, right. A scarf. That’ll totally keep you from freezing to death.” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “Not my problem when you get sick.”

Despite her complaints, she doesn’t open the door. Neither does Y/N. The cold can wait. 

Jiwon exhales, watching the windows slowly fog up around the edges. "You know," she muses, stretching her hands toward the vents as if savoring the last bit of warmth, "We could just sit here forever. Never leave. Live off drive-thru coffee and—” she glances at Y/N’s lap, “—whatever snacks you’ve got stashed in your bag.”

Y/N raises a brow, shifting her tote closer like she’s protecting its contents.

Jiwon snorts. “Yeah, okay, maybe not the best long-term plan.” She stares out at the shop’s glowing windows, then groans. “Alright, let’s do this before I change my mind.”

Jiwon finally shuts off the engine with a dramatic sigh, the warm air from the vents fading almost instantly. Shoving the car door open, she’s immediately met with a gust of cold wind, making her pull her coat tighter around herself. "I swear, winter’s creeping up earlier every year," she mutters.

Y/N tucks her chin into her scarf as she follows, her breath visible in the brisk air. Her steps quickened not wanting to be in the cold anymore. The shop's exterior is a little worn, the old wooden sign swinging slightly from the breeze. A warm glow spills out from the large display window, casting a soft light over an assortment of vintage trinkets and aged books.

The moment they step inside, a bell chimes overhead, and the scent of old paper, polished wood, and something vaguely floral greets them. The warmth is instant, a stark contrast to the chilly air outside.

“Oh, this place is so cool,” Jiwon whispers, even though there’s no reason to be quiet. She’s already scanning the shelves, her eyes flicking over each item with barely contained excitement.

Y/N simply nods, her fingers brushing over the spines of a few worn books on a nearby shelf. She likes places like this—quiet, filled with history. Jiwon is already a few steps ahead, eyes darting eagerly over the shelves. “God, I love this. Everything feels like it has a story, you know?” She reaches for an ornate picture frame, tilting it in her hands before wrinkling her nose. “Okay, but some of this stuff definitely looks haunted.” Y/N huffs out a quiet laugh, trailing behind her. Trinkets, books, and vintage furniture are stacked in organized chaos, making it easy to get lost in the maze of shelves and displays.

Jiwon picks up a tiny porcelain cat figurine and grins. “This looks like you.”

Y/N tilts her head, taking in the tiny, wide-eyed cat with its little paws tucked under its chest. She quirks a brow but doesn’t disagree.

Jiwon chuckles and sets it back down before moving deeper into the store. “I’m looking for something cool for my apartment. Help me look.”

Y/N follows, her fingers trailing absentmindedly over an antique jewelry box, the cool metal intricate beneath her touch. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she pulls it out to see a new message.

Beomgyu: Hope you’re staying warm and safe out there. It’s freezing today Beomgyu: (:

Y/N hesitates, thumb hovering over the screen. She doesn’t know why, but a small smile tugs at her lips. Y/N: I am! I hope you are too?? Jiwon suddenly appears in front of her, grinning as she holds up an old wristwatch with a cracked leather band. "What do you think? Vintage chic or just plain busted?" she asks, spinning it around her finger.

Y/N quickly locks her phone and slips it into her pocket before Jiwon can catch on. She leans in slightly, pretending to inspect the watch with a thoughtful expression, buying herself a moment to dodge the inevitable teasing.

"You could probably get a new strap for it… I think it’s cute," Y/N murmurs to Jiwon. Jiwon smiles softly, nodding as she turns the watch over in her hands. “Yeah, you’re right. A new strap would fix it up.”

She doesn’t comment on Y/N speaking—she never does. The last thing she wants is to make her friend self-conscious. Instead, she just gives a small, approving nod before carefully setting the watch back down.

“Alright, let’s keep looking. I bet there’s something weird and amazing hidden in here somewhere,” Jiwon says, eyes already scanning the shelves with excitement.

Y/N tilts her head slightly as Jiwon sets the watch back down. “Oh… you don’t want it?” she asks quietly.

Jiwon just smiles, giving a small shake of her head before moving on. She does this all the time—picking things up, admiring them for a moment, then setting them aside like she was never interested in the first place.

Y/N follows, tucking her hands into her sleeves. Just before she turns away, her gaze lingers on the watch—just for a moment, as if committing it to memory. It was a cute watch. Jiwon leads the way, weaving through narrow aisles packed with old furniture, faded paintings, and shelves lined with knickknacks from decades past. She picks up a porcelain doll with frizzy hair and exaggerated eyes, turning it toward Y/N with a mischievous grin.

“This thing is definitely haunted,” she says, wiggling it slightly for effect.

Y/N eyes the doll warily before glancing at Jiwon with a raised brow. “Are you going to pick everything up and say it’s haunted?”

Jiwon gasps dramatically and clutches the doll to her chest.“Excuse me, but I have a very keen sixth sense for cursed objects.”

Y/N just shakes her head as Jiwon laughs, setting the doll down before moving toward another display. They pass by a collection of antique cameras, their metal bodies worn but still holding a certain charm. Jiwon snaps an imaginary photo at Y/N with her fingers. "Imagine how many embarrassing pictures these things must've taken," she muses. "Like, someone's great-grandpa probably had a secret stash of goofy photos, and now they’re just... lost in time."

Y/N hums in quiet agreement, her fingers brushing over the wooden frame of an old radio. The dials are rusted, and she wonders if it still works.

Jiwon’s grin turns wicked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or maybe some sexy ones,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

Y/N’s face immediately turns red, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks. She quickly looks away, trying to shake off the thought. “Don’t be weird,” she mutters under her breath.

Jiwon laughs, clearly enjoying the effect she has on her friend, before moving on to browse more items, leaving Y/N to hide her flustered expression.

Further into the store, Jiwon stops at a glass case of jewelry—tarnished rings, delicate lockets, and brooches adorned with tiny painted portraits. Y/N steps closer, her eyes following Jiwon’s gaze to the delicate items displayed inside the case. She runs her fingers lightly over the glass, admiring the soft glow of the tarnished rings and the intricate designs on the brooches. “They all look so... old,” Y/N says quietly, her voice almost lost in the hum of the store’s ambient noise.

Jiwon chuckles, her fingers tracing the outline of a small locket. “That’s the charm of it. Things have stories, you know? I bet these pieces have been passed down through generations.”

Y/N moves her face closer to the glass, studying the locket Jiwon is eyeing. “Do you think anyone ever knew the stories behind them?”

Jiwon grins, her eyes gleaming. “Maybe some, maybe none. But the mystery is part of the fun.” Y/N smiles faintly, the thought of those small, forgotten moments lingering in her mind. There's something comforting about the idea that these objects once held meaning for someone—somewhere, at some point.

They wander further into the store, where Jiwon suddenly stops in front of a display of vintage lamps. The soft glow from the glass shades catches her attention, and she leans in, inspecting one of the lamps with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve been looking for something like this for my apartment,” she says, running her fingers over the smooth surface. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

Y/N nods in agreement, glancing over at the lamp with a soft smile. Jiwon’s taste was always a bit more adventurous than her own, but she could see why this one appealed to her.

The sudden buzz of her phone interrupts her thoughts. She pulls it out, her fingers brushing against the screen as Beomgyu’s message pops up.

Beomgyu: I am! I’m staying inside today. What are your plans?

Y/N types her response quickly, then hits send.

Y/N: Just out with my friend at an antique store

She glances up from her phone to see Jiwon picking up another lamp, her eyes lit up with excitement. Y/N watches her for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. Beomgyu: Was her name Jiwon?

He remembers Y/N mentioning her best friend in passing during their chat at the library. He just wanted to confirm. Y/N’s eyes linger on the message, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. He remembered. The thought settles warmly in her chest, pulling a soft smile to her lips She doesn’t hesitate this time as she types her reply. Y/N: Yes~! Y/N pauses for a moment, biting her lip as she thinks about what else to say. She wants to keep the conversation going but doesn’t want to overthink it.Y/N: It’s nice to get out of the house for a bit. What about you? What’s your day looking like? Jiwon watches Y/N from the corner of her eye, a soft smile playing on her lips as she notices how at ease she looks while texting. It's subtle, but Jiwon is genuinely happy that her friend is reaching out and talking to people outside of their little circle.

Y/N, oblivious to Jiwon’s quiet approval, glances at her phone one last time before slipping it back into her pocket. She’s not quite sure what to make of the conversation, but there's a warmth in her chest—something she hasn’t felt in a while.

The store feels quieter now, the moment hanging between them. Y/N looks at the lamps again, but the thought of her conversation with Beomgyu lingers in the back of her mind, making her smile faintly. Jiwon picks up a lamp with a light green, smooth glass base that mimics the soft curves of a flower’s stem. The base transitions into a delicate, clear glass shade at the top, shaped like a flared tulip. The edges of the shade are gently kissed with subtle gold accents, giving it a touch of elegance. When the light flickers on, the soft glow illuminates the lamp, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

“This is perfect,” Jiwon says, her eyes lighting up as she cradles the lamp carefully. “It’ll look great in my apartment.”

Y/N smiles, admiring how the lamp seems to reflect Jiwon’s style—gentle, refined, and a little whimsical. She watches as Jiwon heads toward the counter to check out, still holding the lamp with a proud grin.

As the two stood at the counter, Jiwon flashed the old woman a quick smile. “One second, please,” she said, before hurrying off toward the area where she’d seen the wristwatch earlier.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering around the small store. The old woman behind the counter eyed her for a moment before speaking up with a forced smile. “It’s always nice to see someone appreciate the old things,” she said, trying to break the silence.

Y/N offered a polite nod, not sure what to say, but the old woman’s smile faltered slightly. She cleared her throat, giving a soft sigh as she added, “Not much of a talker, are you?”

The words stung more than Y/N had expected, and she quickly looked away, her face heating up. The old woman seemed to notice the awkwardness but didn’t press further. Instead, she just returned to her task, a quiet tension settling in the air as Y/N waited for Jiwon to return. Jiwon returned moments later, holding the watch in her hands with a pleased grin. She placed it on the counter, making a show of glancing at Y/N with a playful glint in her eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she said, looking at the old woman. “I’ll take this as well, please.”

The old woman gave a half-smile as she began to ring it up, her eyes flickering over to Y/N one more time before turning her attention back to Jiwon. Y/N could tell the woman was still a little put off by her silence, but Jiwon didn’t seem to notice, lost in her excitement over the watch and lamp.

Y/N stayed quiet, her hands tucked into her sleeves as she watched the exchange. She felt a little out of place, standing there while Jiwon and the old woman spoke, but she didn’t mind. She was used to moments like these, where she just let the world pass by without having to contribute too much.

Jiwon turned to her with a mischievous grin as the woman handed over the bag. “You ready to go?” Her voice was light and warm.

Y/N smiled shyly, nodding her head yes. 

With the watch and lamp safely in a paper bag, Jiwon led the way out of the shop, the doorbell chiming softly as they stepped into the crisp air once again. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as the cold hit her, the sudden contrast from the warmth of the store. The car, now parked for a while, was freezing inside. The leather seats felt cool and unwelcoming as Y/N slid into the passenger seat, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.

Jiwon climbed in, shivering a little as she started the engine. “Ugh, I need it to be summer right now,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together. She adjusted the heater, and the car began to warm up slowly, the chill gradually easing. After another sigh, Jiwon began to pull out of the parking lot and drive to her apartment. Y/N glanced out the window, watching the city streets blur past them. The warmth of the antique shop had faded quickly, replaced by the biting cold that clung to her even inside the car. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, shivering slightly.

Jiwon shot her a knowing look. "It’s freezing now, huh? We were in there forever." She cranked up the heat, taking her hands off the steering wheel, rubbing her hands together for a few seconds. "You’re gonna love my apartment, it looks way different from last time you’ve seen it. It’s a little messy, but it’s cozy, and I made sure to stock up on snacks for tonight."

Y/N offered a small smile. 

The drive was peaceful, the city lights casting a soft glow through the windshield. The hum of the engine mixed with the occasional murmur of the radio, creating a quiet that felt comfortable rather than empty. By the time they reached Jiwon’s building, the car had finally warmed up, making it even harder to step back into the cold.

The wind nipped at their cheeks as they hurried inside, climbing the stairs to Jiwon’s apartment. It was just as Y/N remembered—scattered books, mismatched throw blankets, and walls covered in photos and art. The space felt lived-in, warm in a way that made it easy to relax. The only difference was the fact that there was more decor scattered around. 

Jiwon placed the bag onto the coffee table before peeling off her coat. "Make yourself at home," she said, already moving toward the kitchen. "You want tea or something?"

Y/N settled onto the couch, letting out a quiet breath. "Tea sounds good."

As Jiwon busied herself in the kitchen, Y/N realized she hadn’t checked her phone since last texting Beomgyu. Fishing it out of her pocket, she glanced at the notifications on her lock screen.

Beomgyu: Probably just hanging out with my roommate, destroying him in video games as usual lol Beomgyu: You got plans after shopping? Beomgyu: Update…  he’s officially the worst. It’s almost too easy

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. She quickly unlocked her phone to type a reply.

Y/N: Loll glad you're having fun humbling him. Y/N: I’m just having a sleepover with Jiwon tonight.

The apartment was calm, the soft clinking of mugs and the distant hum of the kettle filling the space. Jiwon returned from the kitchen, handing Y/N a warm mug before settling onto the couch beside her. “Chamomile tea,” she said, taking a sip of her own. “It felt like the right choice.”

Y/N held the cup between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. She eyed Jiwon skeptically. “Doesn’t chamomile make you sleepy? I thought we were supposed to stay up all night… This might be a challenge for me, considering I already fall asleep easily.”

Jiwon snorted. “Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through. But hey, at least we’ll be relaxed.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed again beside her. She glanced down and saw Beomgyu’s name on the screen.

Beomgyu: Honestly, my roommate might need a few pointers at this rate Beomgyu: What are you guys up to now?

A small smile tugged at her lips once more as she typed back.

Y/N: Just got to Jiwon’s place. Probably picking a movie soon.

As she hit send, she noticed Jiwon watching her over the rim of her mug, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“You’ve been on your phone a lot,” Jiwon remarked casually, setting her drink down.

Y/N hesitated, then placed her phone beside her. “…It’s just Beomgyu.” Jiwon raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Just Beomgyu?” she echoed, drawing out the word as she set her mug down. “You don’t text anyone back this fast, not even me.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it, feeling her face warm.

Jiwon gasped, eyes twinkling. “Oh my god. You like talking to him.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Stop.”

“I knew it!” Jiwon clapped her hands together in triumph. “This is so cute. My best friend, texting a cute boy, smiling at her phone…” She sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch like this was the greatest revelation of the year.

Y/N peeked at her through her fingers, shaking her head, but she couldn’t fight the small smile on her lips. With a sigh, she lowered her hands to her lap and mumbled, “How did you even know he was cute?”

Jiwon grinned. “I do now.”

Y/N’s face burned even hotter as Jiwon burst into laughter.

Jiwon’s laughter finally faded as she took another sip of her tea, though the amused glint in her eyes remained. She nudged Y/N’s foot with her own. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off… for now.”

But just as Y/N started to relax, Jiwon smirked. “But—if you ever need help picking out a cute outfit for a date, I better be the first person you call.” Y/N groaned softly, dropping her head back against the couch. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Jiwon grinned. “Nope. That’s what best friends are for.” She reached for the remote, flipping through movie options. “Now, before you turn into a puddle of embarrassment, let’s pick a movie. Horror or rom-com?”

Y/N gave her a look. “Those are very different moods.”

Jiwon shrugged. “Yeah, but I could go for either. Something scary to keep us awake, or something ridiculously cheesy so I can make fun of it the whole time.”

Y/N tucked her legs beneath her, glancing at the screen as Jiwon scrolled through the options. “Let’s just pick something already.”

Jiwon smirked. “Impatient, huh? Alright, horror it is.” She clicked on a movie without hesitation. “This one’s supposed to be terrifying. Hope you don’t regret it.”

Y/N pulled a blanket over her lap. “Doubt it.”

As the movie started, the dim lighting in the apartment made the eerie atmosphere even more intense. The occasional sound of the wind outside only added to the effect. For the most part, Y/N stayed quiet, while Jiwon reacted to every tense moment—gasping, groaning, and muttering under her breath when a character made a dumb decision.

Then, a sudden jump scare made them both flinch.

Jiwon immediately grabbed Y/N’s arm, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Okay, I take it back. Maybe we should’ve gone with the cheesy rom-com.”

Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile. 

Jiwon sighed in defeat, but she didn’t let go of Y/N’s arm as she settled back against the couch. “Fine. But if I have nightmares, you’re staying up with me.”

Y/N just nudged her lightly, focusing back on the screen. Despite the lingering tension of the movie, there was something comforting about sitting here like this—warm, safe, and completely at ease.

The library was quiet except for the low murmur of other students working, mixing with the occasional rustle of pages. Beomgyu had been trying to focus on the textbook in front of him, but his mind kept wandering. His eyes kept drifting toward Y/N, who sat across from him, completely engrossed in her reading. She was so calm, her focus unwavering as she flipped through the pages of her textbook.

Beomgyu was usually a strong student in psychology, but tonight he couldn’t concentrate. The steady rhythm of her pen as she highlighted key sections of the text was oddly soothing, and he found himself getting caught up in the way she moved, the way she seemed so perfectly in control of everything.

He shook his head and tried to refocus, but the words on the page started blurring again. It was frustrating. He wasn’t used to being distracted like this.

Finally, after several minutes of futile attempts to concentrate, he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He glanced at her again, his curiosity getting the better of him. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and there was a small, faint smile playing on her lips as she jotted something down in her notebook.

He couldn’t help it—he just had to know.

“Are you struggling with this section too, or is it just me?” Beomgyu asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set down her pen, opened her notebook, and quickly scribbled something in her neat handwriting. She slid the notebook across the table toward him without a word.

Beomgyu picked it up, reading the message she’d written.

It’s a bit confusing, but I think the key is focusing on the major theories first. He smiled, grateful for her help. “Yeah, I was getting caught up in all the little details,” he said softly, glancing over at her. She looked up for a moment, meeting his eyes briefly before returning to her work, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in his chest. For the next few minutes, he tried to focus again. Beomgyu’s eyes flicked between the multiple-choice questions and Y/N. His pen hovered over the page as his mind wandered. The questions were easy, but it was hard to focus when she was sitting across from him. He could hear his own thoughts growing louder in his head, frustrated at how easily he was being distracted.

Finally, after a long pause, he asked, "What do you think about the multiple-choice questions?"

Y/N didn’t respond with words. Instead, she stood up, her movements smooth and deliberate as she walked over to him and sat down beside him. It would be easier to work on the questions together if they were sitting right next to each other. Beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat at how close she was now. She smelled light and fresh—something faint but calming—and it made it even harder for him to focus. Beomgyu swallowed, trying to ignore the way his heart raced at the proximity. He tried to focus on the homework again, but with Y/N sitting so close now, the words on the page seemed to blur into mush.

After a moment of trying to focus, Beomgyu asked, "What do you think about number five? I keep going back and forth on it.”

Y/N wrote something quickly in her notebook and then slid it over to him. Beomgyu leaned in slightly to read her answer. His breath caught when he realized how close they were—his shoulder brushing hers, their arms almost touching. It made his heart race.

He nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re probably right,” he murmured. “I guess I’m just overthinking it.”

Y/N didn’t reply, but she gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile before returning to her work. Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in his chest. Something about the way she interacted with him—quiet but still so present.

For a moment, he just watched her, his mind caught between wanting to say something and the sudden wave of nerves that had settled in his stomach. He was usually confident around anyone—he never had trouble striking up conversations—but for some reason, this felt different. His usual confidence was slipping away. The more he tried to think of something to say, the more nervous he felt. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but he was beginning to wonder why he was suddenly acting like this around her.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask her about the weekend—maybe invite her to grab a bite to eat—but the words didn’t come. He closed his mouth and immediately regretted it, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck.

Just as he was about to chicken out entirely, Y/N wrote something in her notebook and slid it toward him. He blinked at the words she had written. Number six is confusing me... Is it B or C? He was momentarily relieved by the shift in focus. She needed help with a question, not a complicated invitation. He looked over the question, his mind grounding itself in something familiar. “Ah, okay, I see what you’re thinking. It’s C,” he said, pointing to the answer. “You’re probably getting caught up in the wording, but trust me on this one.” Y/N nodded as she wrote a quick “Thanks” and returned her focus to the paper. Beomgyu couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. It was simple, this moment—just helping her out—but it felt oddly… comforting. Even though his nerves were still buzzing under the surface, he was thankful for the small connection. They spent a while in quiet focus, only the sound of pens scratching on paper and the occasional shuffle of pages filling the air. Beomgyu found himself getting more into the homework as they worked together, though his attention still wandered toward Y/N from time to time. Her concentration was captivating; she’d pause every now and then to jot something down in her notebook or glance at him for a brief moment, but she never seemed rushed. There was a calmness about her that made everything feel... easier. Even the homework.

Every so often, Beomgyu would ask her if she was okay with a particular question or if she needed help with anything. Her response would always come in the form of a few words written neatly in her notebook or nodding. They worked well together, silently communicating as they made their way through the pages, and somehow, the time slipped by without either of them noticing.

By the time they finished, Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a quiet groan. “Man, that took way longer than I thought,” he muttered, glancing over at Y/N. “I think I might’ve over complicated some of those answers.”

Y/N didn't speak, but she gave a small smile, the kind that didn’t require any words to understand. Beomgyu felt his chest warm at the sight of it, and for a moment, everything just felt… simple. It felt right. They’d been sitting together like this for a while now, the distance between them comfortable, not awkward. It was as if they didn’t need to fill every silence with words—there was something just as meaningful in the quiet.

He looked down at his notebook, fingers tapping on the edge of the page as he tried to gather the courage. His heart still beat a little too fast, his words feeling a little too heavy in his mouth. Normally, Beomgyu didn’t hesitate to ask anyone to hang out, but there was something different about asking Y/N. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Finally, after a beat of silence, he turned to her again, his voice a little less steady than he intended. “Hey,” he started, trying to sound casual, “I was thinking of hanging out with Taehyun this weekend. Would you like to join us? I don’t know, maybe grab something to eat or do something fun? No pressure or anything, just thought it might be nice.”

He immediately regretted the way the words came out. He hadn’t meant to sound so unsure. Beomgyu didn’t get nervous about asking people to hang out, but something about her sitting so close, had him second-guessing himself. His mind was racing. Why did I mention Taehyun? Beomgyu's stomach twisted slightly. He wondered if it might make things awkward, or if the idea of hanging out with two guys might overwhelm her. Maybe she’d feel uncomfortable with a group. He quickly pushed the thoughts aside, not wanting to overthink it. He waited for her response, he glanced at her, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. Y/N hesitated, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her notebook. She felt her face flush, warmth spreading through her cheeks as she tried to calm her racing heart. The thought of spending more time with Beomgyu was exciting but also made her self-conscious. After a few seconds of internal debate, she grabbed her notebook and scribbled her answer quickly, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. Her handwriting was a bit messier than usual, the nerves making her pen waver slightly across the paper.

I work until 2 pm on Saturday, but I would like to.

She held her breath for a moment, watching as Beomgyu’s gaze flickered from her words to her face. His eyes softened, and for a brief second, she caught a glimpse of surprise in them. She hadn’t expected him to react that way, but she couldn’t help the small rush of pride that swelled inside her, knowing she’d said yes.

Beomgyu blinked, and for a split second, seemed lost in his own thoughts. Then, his smile broke out—wide and genuine—lighting up his whole face. His voice was almost too eager, a hint of disbelief slipping through. “Really?” His voice was quieter than usual as if he was still absorbing the fact that she’d agreed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to… I’m just glad you’re up for it.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to keep himself from looking too eager, but the light in his eyes gave him away.

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the sight of his smile, the relief and happiness in his expression making her chest tighten in a good way. She hadn’t expected this much joy to come from such a simple exchange. Beomgyu leaned back in his seat, a grin still tugging at the corners of his lips. He felt a strange mix of excitement and disbelief, but it was quickly replaced by a more relaxed, content feeling as he realized she wanted to spend time with him.

"Okay, cool," he said, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to keep the smile from his voice. "We can figure out what to do once you’re free. Taehyun's pretty laid-back, so it’ll be fun."

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the side, her fingers pressing gently against the edge of her notebook, unsure of what to say next. She was still processing the fact that she'd agreed, but she couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in her chest. It was a strange mix of nerves and anticipation. Being around Beomgyu had become something she looked forward to, even if it was still new and a little overwhelming.

After a few moments of silence, Beomgyu’s voice broke through again. Beomgyu leaned back in his seat once more, his heart still racing. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t overwhelming her, so he quickly asked, “Is it okay if Taehyun comes too? I know I mentioned him but I don’t want to put you on the spot if that’s not what you were expecting.” He glanced over at her, hoping she didn’t feel pressured.

Y/N’s eyes flickered before she returned to her notebook, her fingers lightly grazing the page. She was nervous, but she wanted to try. It was a strange feeling—being overwhelmed but still wanting to make the effort. Y/N quickly wrote down. I’m nervous, but I’d like to meet him.

Beomgyu felt his chest warm at her answer. He noticed the subtle way her shoulders were tense, but there was a quiet determination in her words. He smiled softly, trying to ease her nerves. “I’m really glad you’re up for it,” he said, his voice kind and reassuring. “But if you ever feel overwhelmed, just let me know. We’ll keep things chill, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her face flushed with a mix of nerves and something else—perhaps a hint of excitement. Beomgyu couldn't help but feel a little giddy inside. It made him happy to see her stepping out of her comfort zone, even just a little.

“Alright, then,” he said with a grin, his excitement slipping through. “I’m really looking forward to it. I think Taehyun’s gonna be excited to meet you too.” Y/N paused at his words, her brow furrowing in slight confusion. Taehyun? she thought, her heart suddenly thumping faster. Why would Taehyun be excited to meet me? Did Beomgyu talk to him about me?

She looked up at Beomgyu, her eyes silently asking the question, but she didn’t write anything down this time, unsure of how to phrase it. Beomgyu’s grin faltered slightly when he saw the confusion in her eyes. His own gaze flickered around, trying to avoid meeting hers, his chest tightening under the weight of her quiet stare. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant despite the warmth creeping up his neck.

“Oh, uh, Taehyun’s just... been curious, you know?” he said, his words stumbling out a little too quickly. “We hang out a lot, talk a lot more these days, and he’s asked about you. So, uh, I told him a little bit.”

He couldn’t help it. Taehyun was his best friend, and he’d mentioned Y/N to Taehyun more than a few times. But he hadn’t expected to feel this nervous about it.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. He talks about me? The thought made her stomach flutter, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t sure what to make of it—she wasn’t used to being the topic of anyone’s conversations, let alone someone like Beomgyu.

Beomgyu noticed her silence and immediately felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His face reddened, and he tried to salvage the situation. “Not, like, all the time!” he blurted out, looking anywhere but at her. “I mean, just a little. He’s... he’s a curious guy, that’s all.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile faintly. Her heart was still racing, but she found herself oddly touched, even if she wasn’t sure what to think. The idea that Beomgyu had mentioned her to someone else felt strange—but kind of nice at the same time.

Beomgyu shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes dropping to his notebook as if that could distract him from how flustered he felt. “Anyway, he’s cool. I think you two would get along just fine,” he added quickly, eager to change the subject and move on from the awkwardness.

Y/N gave a small nod, her smile softening. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being talked about, but Beomgyu’s easygoing tone and the way he spoke about Taehyun made her think it couldn’t be all that bad. She felt a little more at ease now, even though her heart was still beating a little faster than usual. Beomgyu glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing how late it had gotten. The library had grown quieter as the evening dragged on, the sound of whispered conversations and pages turning gradually fading into silence. He stretched his arms over his head, a quiet yawn escaping as he began gathering his things. “Wanna head out then, it’s getting late,” He asked her. Y/N nodded, then began packing her notebook and pens into her bag, preparing to leave. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment before turning back to her belongings, her movements deliberate.

Beomgyu stood up and reached for his own things. A small part of him felt reluctant for the night to end. It had been a good study session, and he wasn’t quite ready to leave the comfortable silence they’d shared. Y/N zipped up her bag and stood up, the weight of the evening’s work resting on her shoulders. She wrote in the notes app on her phone, then turned it to show him. I should go. It’s getting late.

Beomgyu nodded, he caught a glimpse of the rain outside—thin sheets of water falling steadily, blurring the outlines of the campus. His heart gave a little tug as he noticed her without an umbrella. He couldn’t just let her walk out there alone, not in the rain.

“Hey, wait,” Beomgyu said quickly, moving next to her now. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Y/N paused, her brow furrowing just slightly. She hadn’t expected him to offer, but warmth flushed over her cheeks at the thought. She gave him a small, shy nod, then quickly wrote down in her phone then turned it so he could see.

Okay, thanks, I would like that! Beomgyu’s grin widened as he grabbed his umbrella from one of the empty chairs he set it down on.  “Let’s go,” He said softly leading them out of the building. As they walked outside, Beomgyu opened the umbrella with a smooth flick of his wrist. He stepped toward her, holding it over both of them. The sound of their footsteps filled the air as they fell into step together. The air felt cool, with the rain gently pattering against the umbrella above them. The steady rhythm of the rain created a peaceful backdrop, quieting everything and making it feel more intimate.

Beomgyu held the umbrella close to both of them, their shoulders almost brushing as they walked side by side. The rain was light but persistent, soaking the ground and filling the air with a damp, fresh scent. He couldn’t help but notice how close she was now, the soft glow of the streetlamps catching in the raindrops around them. The walk was short, but Beomgyu felt the weight of every step, each one heavier than the last. The steady rhythm of their footsteps seemed to echo between them, yet it was the quiet, unspoken moments that filled the space. He could hear the soft rustle of Y/N’s jacket, the faint shuffle of her footsteps as they perfectly matched his own. Every sound seemed amplified in the silence that stretched between them, making the air feel electric, charged with something unspoken.

The proximity felt different tonight—closer, more intimate, as if the air between them was thicker, more tangible. His mind raced, caught between the thrill of it and the nervous flutter in his chest. It almost felt like too much, but not in a bad way—it felt right, like they were teetering on the edge of something new.

Beomgyu glanced down at her, just as Y/N looked up at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and his heart skipped in his chest. Her face flushed faintly, and she quickly turned her gaze away, making him feel both lighter and heavier all at once. His pulse quickened, the nervous energy building between them.

Y/N pulled out her phone again, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face in the dim light. Beomgyu wondered, for a split second, if she was going to write something. But she hesitated. The silence between them stretched, thick with anticipation. He kept his eyes ahead, giving her the space to decide whether she wanted to talk. His heart beat a little faster, unsure of what to say next.

Finally, Y/N typed something, glancing down at her screen before showing him the message.

Thank you again for walking me to my car, means a lot.

“No problem,” Beomgyu said with a smile, though there was a quiet sincerity in his voice. He didn’t mind at all. “Really, it’s no trouble.”

Y/N nodded, but there was a small pause before she typed again, her fingers moving quickly over the keys.

And thank you for hanging out with me today, I had fun even though we were just studying.

Beomgyu chuckled softly, shaking his head, his heart light. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he said with a laugh, his voice a little warmer now. “I like hanging out with you too, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled back, her gaze holding his for a moment, a soft, unspoken understanding passing between them. There was something about the way her eyes softened, the way her lips curled into that quiet smile that made his chest tighten in the best way.

A few more strides, and they were at her car. The moment felt too short, too fleeting. She typed one last message.

Do you want me to drive you to your dorm?

Beomgyu shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “No, it’s fine. My dorm is a short walk from here, no worries. Just... make it home safely, okay?”

Y/N nodded, unlocking her car. As she slipped into the driver's seat, Beomgyu took a step back, not quite ready for the night to end.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, the words almost lingering in the cool air. “Text me when you get home, so I know you made it, okay?”

Y/N gave him a big smile, nodding enthusiastically before she closed the door. Beomgyu stood there for a moment, watching her, feeling like time had slowed just for them. He stepped back slowly, starting his own walk home with a huge grin on his face. The rain seemed to soften around him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt giddy—lost in thoughts of Y/N, with the sound of raindrops tapping on the pavement filling the silence.

The soft hum of the car’s engine died as Y/N pulled into the driveway, her headlights casting a warm glow on the familiar path to the front door. She turned off the engine, her heart still racing from the walk with Beomgyu, the memory of their quiet closeness lingering in her chest. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tight, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling in her stomach. She stepped out of the car, and the cool, rainy night air hit her skin. She quickly made her way toward the front door, not wanting to get rained on. The house stood dark and quiet, except for a light glowing faintly from the living room. Her dad had always been a night owl; he liked having his alone time, and nighttime was the best for that. As soon as Y/N stepped inside, she was met with the lingering scent of dinner—something rich, buttery, and warm—curling in the air like a cruel tease. Her stomach twisted at the smell, a stark reminder of how long it had been since she last ate.

She took off her shoes and glanced toward the living room, where her dad was stretching as he got up from the couch. The TV cast a soft glow across the room, the volume low, as if he’d just been waiting for her to come home.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice easy, casual. “You have a good night?”

She nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah.” 

“Good,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he stifled a yawn. “I was just about to head to bed. Glad you made it home safe.”

She nodded again, but her mind was elsewhere—on the scent still clinging to the air, making her mouth water. Without another word, she slipped into the kitchen.

The counters were wiped clean, not a single dish left out. The fridge door was cool against her fingers as she pulled it open, scanning the shelves for anything—a plate, a container, something saved for her. But the space where leftovers should be was empty.

Her brows furrowed. She stepped back, inhaling again, and that’s when it hit her. The smell wasn’t just hanging in the air—it was stronger, closer.

She turned slowly, her eyes landing on the trash can. The lid wasn’t fully shut. A faint dread settled in her chest as she reached out, pressing it open with her foot.

There, among crumpled napkins and discarded scraps, was a takeout container, its lid haphazardly resting on top. Inside, untouched food—still neatly packed, barely eaten—mocked her from beneath the dim kitchen light.

Thrown away.

She stared for a moment, her throat tightening. Not forgotten. Tossed out. On purpose.

The quiet of the house pressed in on her, the weight of it settling in her stomach alongside the hunger.

Behind her, her dad’s footsteps padded toward the hallway. “I heard you ate already?” he asked, voice heavy with exhaustion.

She hesitated, fingers curling at her sides, and she gave a quick, tight nod of her head. Her stepmom must have lied to him. She had to be the one who threw the perfectly good food out; her dad would never do such a thing.

“Good.” He patted her shoulder in passing, a brief, absentminded gesture before disappearing down the hall. “Night, kid.”

The words barely registered. Y/N stood there for a moment longer, staring at the discarded meal and the empty fridge.

Swallowing down the tightness in her throat, she turned back to the pantry, opening it with slow, quiet movements. She didn’t want to think too hard about it, didn’t want to let it settle too deep, so she reached for the first thing her fingers brushed against—a granola bar.

Not enough to feel full, but enough to get rid of the ache in her stomach.

Peeling the wrapper open, she took a small bite, barely tasting it as she flicked off the kitchen light and padded toward her room.

The week had flown by. Beomgyu and Y/N had been texting constantly, their conversations stretching longer and longer each day. They found themselves meeting up in the library more often than not. It felt like things were shifting between them, slowly but surely. But today was Saturday—the day she would officially meet Taehyun. She was nervous, but she wanted to do this. Taehyun meant a lot to Beomgyu, and she knew this was important. She just hoped he wouldn’t judge her for not speaking.

As she stepped out of her room, loud chatter broke the silence. The muffled sounds of conversation came from the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee reached her as she made her way downstairs, her stomach twisting with anticipation. 

Her stepmom, sitting at the kitchen table, was chatting with a friend over coffee. Their voices carried through the hallway, a steady hum of laughter and idle chatter. Y/N hesitated outside the kitchen, taking a deep breath before stepping inside nervously, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.

She opened the fridge, the cool air rushing out to greet her, and began to sift through the contents. Her fingers brushed over the containers of ripe fruit—blueberries, grapes, and blackberries. She pulled out a few pieces of each, letting the sweet scent of the fruit fill her nose. She mainly picked at the blackberries, hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation. But then, her stepmom’s voice broke through the quiet kitchen air, sharp and cutting through the hum of conversation. “Y/N,” she called, her tone slightly raised, “Come say hi to Mrs. Yoon.”

Y/N didn’t respond, her eyes still focused on the fruit, feeling the familiar discomfort settle into her chest. She just kept chewing, deliberately slow, as she tried to blend into the kitchen’s background. She could almost feel her stepmom’s eyes on her, waiting for a reaction, but Y/N remained still.

There was a long pause before her stepmom spoke again, her voice dripping with condescension. “Honestly, you’ve been so quiet lately. You’d think I raised someone who couldn’t speak at all.” There was a soft, forced chuckle from Mrs. Yoon, her stepmom’s friend, which made Y/N’s stomach tighten.

Mrs. Yoon’s laugh echoed in the kitchen, her voice high-pitched and exaggerated. “Maybe she’s just shy, huh? But surely you could say a word or two. I mean, it’s not like it would hurt.”

Y/N’s grip on the blackberries tightened, and she felt her chest constrict. The words landed like cold, harsh stones, but she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to engage. Not this time.

Sensing an opening, her stepmom pressed on, her voice sharpening just a little. “Y/N,” she called, a bit louder now, “Don’t be rude. You're not a little girl anymore; it's polite to talk to our guests.” The words felt like a punch to the gut. Y/N’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t meet her stepmom’s eyes. She could feel the weight of the silence stretching between them, almost suffocating. But she just chewed another blackberry, her eyes focused on the fruit, hoping the moment would pass. But it wouldn’t, and Y/N knew that. So, with all her strength, she turned around slowly, bowing her head to Mrs. Yoon, not daring to look up at the woman. Her cheeks were flushed red from pure embarrassment. Mrs. Yoon, blissfully unaware of the tension, continued. “You know, Y/N,” she said, her tone dripping with fake sweetness, “You’re so pretty. I’m sure you could talk if you wanted to. It’s probably just a phase, right?”

The words were laced with that same mocking cheerfulness that made Y/N’s skin crawl. Her throat tightened painfully as she felt the heat rise in her chest. Y/N just kept holding the small container of blackberries, pretending that was enough to focus on. "Too old for it to be a phase," Her stepmom said in a sour tone. "We thought it was a phase when she was four... Still hasn’t grown out of it. She's just plain rude now."

The chair scraped softly against the tiled floor as Mrs. Yoon stood up. Y/N quickly grabbed another berry, her fingers trembling just slightly as she moved toward the counter, trying to escape the tension without making it obvious. Mrs. Yoon passed by her, muttering under her breath, but Y/N didn’t look up. “There’s nothing wrong with a little effort, Y/N,” Mrs. Yoon’s voice was cold—her words barely more than a hiss as she passed by.  “You wouldn’t want people to think you’re strange, would you?”

Y/N’s grip tightened on the container, but she didn’t respond. She turned slowly toward the pantry, the sound of her steps muffled on the floor as she opened the door. She grabbed a granola bar, anything to get away from the conversation, anything to fill the emptiness in her stomach without thinking too much about the conversation she couldn’t escape. “This is embarrassing,” her stepmom huffed as she also walked past Y/N into the living room, following Mrs. Yoon. 

With a quick motion, Y/N stuffed the granola bar into her pocket, not bothering to open it. She couldn’t focus on food right now, not when her heart was still pounding in her chest. She placed the container of fruit back into the fridge. Without sparing a glance behind her, she turned and made her way toward the stairs, her steps hurried but quiet, like she was trying to outrun the weight of the moment. As she reached the top, she shut the door to her room, the brief silence offering a small relief from the chaos below. She quickly changed into her work clothes, trying to ignore the nerves still gnawing at her stomach. Her hands were unsteady as she buttoned her shirt, the fabric feeling tight and unfamiliar against her skin. She tried to push down the unease, telling herself it was just the usual anxiety. But today, it felt different—more intense, like everything was building up. She glanced at the clock. She was running out of time. With a deep breath, she quickly finished getting ready, her movements a little more frantic than usual. Y/N quickly grabbed a change of clothes from her closet, her fingers still trembling as she folded them neatly. She added the set to her bag, making sure she wouldn’t forget anything for after work. The tension in her chest hadn't eased, but she tried to focus, heading to the bathroom.

Her reflection stared back at her as she brushed her teeth, the familiar minty taste doing little to calm her nerves. She ran a comb through her hair, the bristles catching slightly, but she didn’t mind. She needed to get going. Maybe once she was out of the house, things would feel a little easier. But as she packed her things and took one last look around the room, the knot in her stomach stayed tight, reminding her that her day was only just beginning.

The clock struck the hour, signaling the end of her shift, and Y/N quickly clocked out, feeling the weight of the long day slip off her shoulders. She quickly changed out of her work uniform and into a simple, comfortable outfit in the bathroom. Once she was done, she stood in front of the mirror, making sure she looked presentable. She kept patting at a flyaway strand of hair, with a huff and it not staying down she decided to pull her phone out. Her fingers trembled as she sent Beomgyu a text. Y/N: Hey! I’m done (: After pressing send, she went back to fixing her hair. The strand was barely noticeable, but it was all Y/N could focus on. She tried to breathe a little deeper, trying to push away the anxiety that had been building all day. The minutes dragged on endlessly until her phone buzzed, Beomgyu's reply lighting up the screen.

Beomgyu: Taehyun wants to cook for us tonight. He loves cooking, so we’ll all be eating at his place instead of going out! Y/N blinked at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She was glad she wouldn’t have to deal with the pressure of picking a place to eat or having to try and order in public in front of them. But the thought of meeting Taehyun still made her stomach twist in knots. She had heard so much about him, and the idea of meeting someone important to Beomgyu—someone who was already a part of his world—made her feel out of place. Still, she couldn’t back out now. Y/N: Sounds good!! I’m excited She got a reply right away. Beomgyu: Me too! You can come here now. I’m already here (: He had sent another text right after with Taehyun’s address. Just like Jiwon, Taehyun lived in a off campus apartment. She gathered her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder before stepping out of the café into the warm afternoon air. The sun hung high in the sky, casting soft golden light over the parking lot. A gentle breeze carried the lingering scent of coffee and pastries as Y/N made her way to her car, her footsteps quiet against the pavement.

She slid into the driver's seat, exhaled slowly, and gripped the wheel for a moment before starting the car. The low hum of the engine filled the cabin, but it did little to settle the nervous energy bubbling inside her.

She pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, her thoughts racing faster than the cars passing by. Would Taehyun like her? Would she embarrass herself? She tried to focus on the drive—the steady rhythm of the traffic lights, the soft murmur of the radio—but the closer she got to Taehyun’s apartment, the harder it became to push away the tightness in her chest.

The drive felt both too short and too long, the minutes stretching endlessly and yet slipping away before she could fully prepare herself. When she finally turned into the apartment complex, her stomach twisted even tighter. The building stood tall and modern, its clean lines and muted tones unfamiliar, almost imposing.

She pulled into an empty parking spot and let out a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel before forcing herself to move. She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped out of the car with slow, careful movements. Each step toward Taehyun’s door felt heavier, anxiety pressing against her ribs.

She reached the door, hesitating for a moment before pressing the doorbell. The soft chime rang through the hallway, and Y/N swallowed against the lump in her throat, waiting. The sound of muffled footsteps neared the door, and Y/N instinctively straightened, tightening her grip on her bag. A second later, the door swung open, revealing Beomgyu.

His face instantly lit up at the sight of her, a familiar warmth in his expression that made her chest flutter. “Hey, you made it,” he said with a grin, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N nodded quickly and stepped over the threshold into the apartment. The scent of something savory filled the air, and the faint sound of a knife chopping against a cutting board echoed from the kitchen.

“Taehyun’s in there,” Beomgyu said, tilting his head toward the kitchen as he shut the door behind her. “He’s been cooking since, like, forever. I think he wants to impress you.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped at the thought, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. Beomgyu must've noticed, because he nudged her lightly. “Hey, you don’t have to be nervous. Taehyun’s chill, I promise.”

She knew he meant well, but her nerves weren’t so easily soothed. Her hands felt stiff at her sides as she gently kicked off her shoes, then followed Beomgyu further inside. The apartment was cozy, a blend of modern and lived-in. There were books and notebooks stacked on the coffee table, a couple of blankets lazily thrown over the couch, and a few potted plants scattered around. It felt like a space filled with quiet routines and comfort. Before she could dwell on it too long, a voice called out from the kitchen. “You’re just in time.”

Y/N looked up as Taehyun stepped into view, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He was a little shorter than Beomgyu but carried himself with an easy confidence. His dark eyes studied her for a moment before he offered a small smile. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his tone calm but not unkind. “Nice to finally meet you.” She swallowed hard as Taehyun looked at her, but for a split second, her mind wandered—his eyes were calm, almost too calm for someone who'd just met her. It made her wonder what it was like to be that comfortable with a stranger. She wished she could be more like that. Taehyun was a familiar face, she’s seen him before with Beomgyu and in their psychology lecture. But she’s only stolen glances at him, she’s never actually taken in his appearance until now. 

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs. he bowed her head in greeting, hoping it would be enough. Beomgyu had to mention to Taehyun that I didn’t talk, right? She thought to herself. Taehyun caught the small gesture and offered a soft smile in return—acknowledging her without making things awkward. He knew she didn’t talk, and he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. Beomgyu, on the other hand, flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Tell me you made enough food for me to eat like a king.”

Taehyun shot him an unimpressed look. “I made enough for three people, which means you’re eating like a normal human being.”

Y/N felt a small, unexpected smile tug at her lips. The dynamic between them was natural like they had their own rhythm, their own inside jokes. She felt like an outsider looking in, but the warmth in the room wasn’t lost on her.

“You can sit,” Taehyun said, nodding toward the couch. “Food’s almost ready.” Y/N hesitated before moving toward the couch, her hands still gripping the strap of her bag like a lifeline. The nerves hadn’t gone away, but as Beomgyu continued to whine about how starving he was and Taehyun expertly ignored him, she felt herself exhale just a little. She set her bag down next to her on the couch, still holding onto the strap for comfort. 

As the rich, spicy aroma of the simmering soup filled the apartment, Beomgyu sprawled beside her, bouncing his knee absentmindedly. The low hum of Taehyun moving around in the kitchen mixed with the occasional clatter of utensils, blending into a comfortable hum of normalcy. Beomgyu stretched his arms above his head before glancing at Y/N. “Was work okay?”

She blinked at him, briefly surprised by the question, before reaching for her phone. It was fine. Pretty busy.

Beomgyu peeked at the screen and nodded. “Yeah, I bet. The café always looks packed when I walk by.” He let his head fall back against the couch. “I’d suck at that job. I’d mess up orders left and right.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her fingers hovering over her phone before she typed, she wanted to tease him a little. Sounds like you’d get fired right away.

Beomgyu gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Beomgyu, you’d be amazing!’ Where’s the support?”

Her lips twitched, the smallest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

Before Beomgyu could continue his fake sulking, Taehyun’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Food’s ready. Come eat.”

Beomgyu immediately shot up. “Finally.” Y/N followed him to the small dining table, where Taehyun was setting down three steaming bowls of soup. The deep red broth swirled with shredded beef, vegetables, and glass noodles, the scent rich with spice. A plate of rice sat in the middle of the table, accompanied by a few small side dishes.

She met Taehyun’s gaze and bowed her head slightly in thanks. He responded with a small nod, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Eat before Beomgyu devours everything,” Taehyun muttered as he sat down.

Beomgyu scoffed, already reaching for his spoon. “I have some self-control.”

Taehyun raised a brow.

“…Okay, not much. But I have some.” Beomgyu continued on his voice more quiet. 

Y/N quietly took her seat, picking up her spoon and dipping it into the broth. She blew on it gently before taking a small sip, the rich spice coating her tongue in a slow burn. The warmth spread through her chest, grounding her more than she expected. It had been a while since Y/N had enjoyed a meal like this. Lately, she'd been missing dinners at home, often spending so much time away that she only had time for snacks or whatever she could grab at the café where she worked. Cooking at home wasn’t even an option—she knew her stepmom would make a fuss if she tried to prepare even the simplest dish.

Beomgyu let out a satisfied groan, his eyes closing in contentment. “Taehyun, if you don’t open a restaurant someday, I’m reporting you to the authorities.”

Taehyun barely glanced up. “Then I guess I’m a fugitive.”

Beomgyu turned to Y/N as he dramatically scooped another spoonful. “You see how he wastes his potential? Tragic.”

Y/N only shook her head slightly, stirring her soup as the conversation continued. The nerves that had tightened in her chest all day were still there, but they were softer now—fading into the background as she listened to the back-and-forth between them. The warmth of the meal, the easy rhythm of their banter, and the simple comfort of just being there settled something inside her. As the conversation flowed between Beomgyu and Taehyun, Y/N let herself relax, just a little. The attention wasn’t on her, and that was comforting—like she could just exist in the background without pressure. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

That thought barely had time to settle before Taehyun shifted his focus.

“Beomgyu told me you’re studying to be a vet tech,” he said casually, setting his spoon down for a moment.

The words sent a jolt through Y/N, her shoulders tensing instinctively. The weight of his attention made her skin prickle, her pulse quickening.

Beomgyu, completely unaware of the storm brewing in her mind, perked up. “Oh, yeah! She loves animals.”

Y/N's fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her phone. Her thoughts felt tangled, weighed down by the lingering echoes of this morning—her stepmom’s sharp voice, the cruel amusement in her friend’s tone.

You wouldn’t want people to think you’re strange, would you? The thought ran through her head.

She inhaled deeply, pressing the tips of her fingers into her palm beneath the table. Focus. She just needed to focus.

Her phone screen glowed softly as she typed. Yeah. I like animals more than people haha.

Beomgyu let out a chuckle, light and easy. But Taehyun just gave a small nod, eyes steady. “That makes sense. I would also have to agree with that.”

The simple understanding in his tone eased something inside her. Y/N exhaled slowly, her grip loosening on her phone.

Taehyun reached for his glass of water. “Do you have pets?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth sat heavy on her tongue, bitter and familiar. Her stepmom hated animals—hated them simply because Y/N loved them. Just like everything else Y/N cared about, her stepmom dismissed it, resented it, as if her interests existed just to spite her.

Her fingers moved over the screen. No. My stepmom doesn’t like them.

Beomgyu frowned immediately. “That sucks.”

Y/N shrugged, but the lump in her throat didn’t budge.

She pressed her palms together under the table, fingers gently tracing circles on the inside of her wrist, grounding herself. It was a quiet effort to remind herself that she wasn’t at home, wasn’t under the weight of someone’s critical gaze. The sting of her stepmom’s harsh words came back—how she always belittled Y/N’s interests, and dismissed what mattered to her. But here, in this cozy apartment with the comforting scent of food in the air, Y/N tried to push those thoughts away. She wasn’t in that place anymore. She was here, in this moment, and no one was making her feel small or out of place. No one was making her feel small. She could breathe here.

Taehyun didn’t pry any further. Instead, he took another bite of his food and said, “A vet tech, huh? It’s a good career. You’ll always have work.”

The confidence in his tone caught her off guard. No skepticism, no questioning whether she was really capable of it—just an acknowledgment. Beomgyu tapped her arm lightly with his elbow, his grin unwavering. “See? You’re still here, which means Taehyun doesn’t secretly hate you.” He was attempting to make her feel relaxed, somehow. 

Y/N glanced up at Taehyun, who was calmly eating, not offering much reaction. She wasn’t sure if that meant anything, but at least he didn’t seem bothered by her presence.

Taehyun finally looked up, eyeing Beomgyu with mild exasperation. “Why would I hate her?”

Beomgyu shrugged dramatically. “I don’t know, you hate a lot of things.”

Taehyun sighed, shaking his head. “Just finish eating.”

Y/N lowered her gaze to her bowl, her grip on the spoon relaxing. The easy banter between them made the atmosphere feel lighter, even if she wasn’t sure where she fit into it yet. Before taking another spoonful of soup, Y/N glanced up at Beomgyu, only to find him already watching her, a soft smile on his lips. His eyes held a silent reassurance, a quiet praise—his way of telling her that everything was okay. As the meal continued, Y/N reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. Her anxiety still hummed beneath the surface, but she wanted to try.

Taehyun, do you cook a lot? she typed before sliding the phone toward him.

Taehyun glanced at the screen as he chewed, then swallowed before nodding. “Yeah. I like it.”

Beomgyu jumped in before she could type again. “He’s basically a housewife.”

Taehyun shot him a look. “I enjoy making real food instead of surviving on instant ramen and convenience store snacks, unlike some people.” Y/N cheeks flushed lightly, she also enjoyed those things, especially the convenience store snacks.

Beomgyu waved him off. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

Y/N’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard before she finished typing, sliding her phone toward Taehyun again. What’s your favorite thing to make?

Taehyun’s brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t seem bothered by the question—in fact, there was something almost appreciative in the way he read it. “Probably kimchi stew. But I like trying new stuff too.”

Beomgyu leaned in with a grin. “Taehyun thinks he’s a master chef.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Y/N watched their exchange, fingers idly tapping against the side of her phone. She wasn’t used to people like this—so at ease with each other, so effortlessly comfortable.

As they finished eating, the conversation drifted into more casual topics—mostly Beomgyu’s over-the-top complaints about his classes and Taehyun’s dry, unimpressed responses. Y/N listened quietly, fingers lightly tapping against the side of her phone once more. The warmth of the meal still lingered in her stomach, grounding her.

She glanced down at her bowl, realizing she had nearly finished everything. The rich, spicy broth had been comforting, and soothing in a way she hadn’t expected. It didn’t erase the weight of the morning, but for a little while, it had helped.

Beomgyu let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in his chair. “That hit the spot.”

Taehyun hummed, gathering his own bowl. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time.” Beomgyu turned to Y/N with a grin, nodding toward her empty bowl. “You liked it, right?”

She hesitated for a second before nodding.

Taehyun’s gaze flickered to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke. “I’m glad,” he said simply, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. It was brief, but it softened his usual sharp demeanor.

Y/N quickly typed out a message on her phone and slid it toward him.

It was really good. Thank you for making it.

Taehyun read the text, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly before he nodded. “Anytime.”

Beomgyu pushed his bowl aside. “Alright, now that we’re all full, what’s next?”

Taehyun ran a hand through his hair, glancing around the small kitchen before shrugging. “We could just hang out for a while, see where the night takes us. No need to rush anything.”

Y/N tucked her phone into her pocket, feeling the familiar weight of silence settle around her. Her gaze flickered between the two of them, watching as Beomgyu casually leaned back and made himself comfortable, grinning in that easy-going way of his. Taehyun, on the other hand, appeared relaxed, an unspoken warmth to his presence that helped ease her discomfort just a little more.

She couldn’t help but smile faintly, her thoughts quieting for a moment as she took in the scene. It was such a contrast from the tense moments in her own home this morning, the sharpness of her stepmom’s words slowly dulling. For now, here, with Beomgyu and Taehyun, the world felt a little softer. She could breathe a little easier. The three of them eventually cleaned up their dishes placing them in the sink before making their way to the living room. Y/N and Beomgyu sat together on the couch while Taehyun sat on an accent chair across from the pair.

Beomgyu was now recounting a ridiculous story about something that had happened at school, gesturing wildly as he spoke, while Taehyun listened intently, clearly amused. Y/N’s gaze lingered on the two of them, watching as they interacted effortlessly, their conversation flowing as easily as their laughter. 

A small chuckle bubbled up in her chest, and she quickly stifled it, not wanting to interrupt their flow. But she couldn’t help it. The way Beomgyu threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration, the way Taehyun rolled his eyes, his lips quirking up in a barely-there smile. And then it happened—her laugh, soft and unexpected. It caught her off guard, but it slipped out anyway. She hadn’t meant to, but something about the way Beomgyu was speaking, the ridiculousness of his story, just made her chuckle.

Beomgyu stopped mid-sentence, his eyes turning toward her immediately. For a moment, it seemed like time had paused, the room quieting as he looked at her. His expression softened, his lips curving into a warm, genuine smile. There was no teasing, no making a big deal of it—just a simple, kind look that made her feel seen, in the most comfortable way.

She quickly averted her gaze, a blush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks, but the smile didn’t leave her face. It wasn’t that anyone had noticed her laugh—it was that Beomgyu had, and instead of calling attention to it, he simply looked at her with warmth. It made her feel a little more at ease, like she belonged, even in the small, quiet moments.

Taehyun glanced at them both, his expression faintly amused, but he said nothing. The conversation continued, light and easy, and for the first time in a while, Y/N felt like she could just exist in a space without the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her.

As they chatted, laughed, and shared stories, Y/N’s smile lingered. It wasn’t the loud, boisterous kind of laughter that filled the room, but it was real. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel out of place.

It felt like she was beginning to find her place, little by little, with them. Even without saying a word.

✧ taglist: @brrytears @tubasmiracle @sseishiross

[st4rgiirll]

first kiss

s1!stiles stilinski x gf!reader

creds: roseraris for dividers!

you were perched on stiles’ bed, watching him pace back and forth across his room, his hand moving animatedly as he talked about the latest werewolf drama involving scott.

the police radio scanner on his desk crackled with static, and his wall was covered in red string and newspaper clippings - his latest attempt to piece together all the supernatural happenings in beacon hills.

“and then scott practically wolfed out in the middle of practice!” stiles exclaimed, running a hand through his short hair.

“like dude, we talked about this! control! but no, apparently catching greenberg’s crossbody was worth risking exposure to the entire lacrosse team!”

you couldnt help but smile at his sarcasm. this was classic stiles - all nervous energy and rapid-fire words, trying to keep his best friend alove while maintaining some semblance of normalcy in their increasingly bizarre lives.

“stiles,” you said, trying to interrupt his rambling to no avail. “stiles!”

he stopped mid-gesture, turning to look at you with those warm brown eyes that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. “yeah?”

“come sit down before you wear a hole in your floor.” he glanced down at the path he’d been treading, then shuffled over to sit beside you, his knee bouncing with restless energy.

“sorry, i just… there’s so much happening, y’know? between scott’s furry little problem and trying to figure out who the alpha is, and my dad’s cases, and-“

“and you’re carrying all the weight of it.” you finished softly, placing your hand over his fidgeting ones.

stiles fell quiet, a rare occurrence that made you look at him more closely. his eyes were fixed on where your hands touched, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“how do you do that?” he asked suddenly.

“do what?”

“just… know exactly what to say? how to calm me down?” he turned his hend over to lace his fingers with yours.

“you’re like my personal adderall, except, y’know, prettier and less medical.” you laughed, feeling your cheeks warm.

“did you just compare me to you ADHD medication?”

“i did, didnt i?” stiles groaned, his free hand coming up to cover his face.

“that was supposed to be romantic. in my head, it was definitely more romantic. can we pretend i said something smooth instead? like, i dunno, ‘you’re the moon to my werewolf’ — wait no, that’s worse, that’s definitely worse—“

you cut off his rambling the only way you could think of – by leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. for a moment, stiles froze, and you could practically hear his brain short-circuiting.

then his hand came up to cup your cheek, and he was kissing you back with all the pent-up energy he usually put into solving supernatural mysteries.

when you pulled away, stiles blinked at you several times, his mouth opening and closing without sound – another rare occurrence.

"did you just—" he started.

"kiss you? Yeah."

"and I—"

"kissed me back? also yeah." a grin slowly spread across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"that was... wow. that was awesome. can we do that again? we should definitely do that again. like, right now. or whenever you want. im free for the next, like, forever—"

this time when you kissed him, you were both smiling too much for it to be perfect, but somehow that made it even better.

the police scanner crackled again in the background, and somewhere in beacon hills, scott was probably getting into more werewolf-related trouble, but for now, none of that mattered.

stiles pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "just so we're clear," he whispered, "this means you like me, right? because i really like you, and it would be super awkward if—"

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"we’ve been dating for 6 months."

"oh yeah… cool," he breathed, then immediately cringed.

"i mean, not cool like 'whatever' cool, but cool like 'this is the best thing ever' cool, and im going to stop talking now because im pretty sure im ruining the moment, and—"

you silenced him with another quick kiss, and felt him smile against your lips.

"you know," he said when you separated, "i think i just found my new favorite way to be shut up."

the police scanner suddenly burst to life with his dad's voice reporting a disturbance downtown, and stiles' eyes lit up with that familiar mix of curiosity and excitement.

"want to go investigate a potentially supernatural crime scene with me?" he asked, already reaching for his keys.

you laughed, standing up and pulling him with you. "only you would think that's a romantic second kiss location."

"hey, i contain multitudes," he protested, but his grin was infectious as he led you toward his jeep.

and just like that, life in beacon hills continued – only now with the added bonus of being able to kiss your adorably sarcastic boyfriend whenever he started rambling about werewolves.

[autism-autobot]

Flower of a Poisonous Seed Part 23:

Tw: Non-sexual partial nudity

Part 22:

"Finally home. How long were we away?"

"From a week before New Years to now, so... three and a half months? Give or take?"

"Oh... that's a while."

"Well, not in comparison with how long I've been away from the mountain."

"... I see."

Nezha and Wukong were moving Wukong's presents and medical equipment back into Nezha's house about a week after the party.

Nezha had been ecstatic to bring his friend home after all the crazy events that he'd witnessed Wukong go through. Although that last sentence pierced his heart a little more than he could bear.

SWK: Something the matter, Daffodil?

Nezha: Oh, no. Nothing at all...

SWK: I don't buy that one bit. I know you too well. What's wrong?

Nezha: Nothing! Nothing at all!

SWK: Still don't buy it. But since you don't want to talk about it, I'll let it be for now.

Nezha: Alright then.

~~~

They didn't say a word to each other until Nezha was about to start preparing dinner. Even then, it was only a simple question of what Wukong wanted to eat.

~~~

Wukong wordlessly ate dinner as Nezha's eyes darted around the room as he thought about what to say. He needed to say something, but what?

How could he phrase the question that may very well be the difference between the future he wanted for himself or the same thing he'd been quietly suffering all his immortal life?

Wukong didn't know what Nezha wanted to say, but he knew that his Daffodil was thinking very hard about it. He decided to let Nezha take his time to find his words.

Nezha: *breathes deeply* Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven...

SWK: *nearly starts choking on his at getting full name and title dropped*

Nezha: OH MY GOODNESS, ARE YOU OKAY?????!!!!!!

SWK: *mouth still full of food* Maybe a little warning next time you decide to use my full name like that! wtf Nezhie?????

Nezha: My apologies. I *sighs* it... i-i-it seemed right. For the-the question I want to ask you, that is.

SWK: Okay... *takes another bite* What is it?

Nezha: Would you like to...

SWK: mhm...

Nezha: stay with me?

SWK: I thought that's what I was doing?

Nezha: No! But like... *sighs* I mean like...

SWK: ?????

Nezha: Forever.

SWK: !!!!!!

SWK: OH!!!!! Like forever forever? Like, even if I'm no longer sick?

Nezha: Yes! Exactly!

Nezha: So...

Nezha: Would you?

SWK: *swallows his food* *takes a deep breath*

Nezha: Youdon'thavetoanswerrightaway!

Nezha: I mean... you can take time to consider. It's a big ask, and I-

SWK: No need, I already made up my mind.

Nezha: You have?

SWK: Yes.

SWK: I will stay with you. *grabs his hand*

SWK: Forever.

Nezha: *gasps*

Nezha: *passes out*

SWK: OH SHI-

~~~

Li Jing: Less than 24 hours home, and one of you winds up in the ER!!!!!

SWK: Wasn't me this time though.

Jing: That doesn't make it better.

SWK: Sorry.

Jing: What even happened back there?

SWK: Uhhhhhhhh Idk ask Nezhie.

Jing: Fine. I'll ask as soon as the doctors are done with him.

~~~

SWK: *enters room* 🎶✨️Nezhie!✨️🎶

Nezha: Wukong! How are you?

SWK: I'm not the one in the hospital bed this time. Why are you asking me?

Nezha: True.

Jing: What was all that about back there?

Nezha: I... um... I think my heart rate shot up unexpectedly, I think? *hoping his father doesn't ask any more questions*

Jing: Well, whatever the case, you know you need to keep better track of yourself to keep these sorts of things from happening.

Nezha: Yes, father. I will.

Jing: Good, now let's get you home.

~~~

Nezha: Father, you don't need to carry me inside!

Jing: You passed out. You should stay in your wheelchair for at least a week.

Nezha: Awww.

~~~

Jing was sleeping in the guest room while Nezha got dressed for bed. He couldn't convince his father to go home even after three hours of trying to persuade him.

Nezha: *takes off his shirt*

SWK: *takes his pants off and chucks them at Nezha* What a day, huh?

Nezha: *takes pants off his face* You're telling me. I was hoping we'd be able to get a bit more privacy, but my father isn't going anywhere soon.

SWK: Lucky for you, neither am I. *tries putting pajama pants on*

Nezha: Here, let me help you with that.

Nezha: *wheels himself over and helps*

SWK: Thanks. Need a hand climbing into bed?

Nezha: Sure.

~~~

Nezha wrapped his arms around Wukong's bare torso and nestled his head next to his heart. Macaque was right, it is a strangely soothing, almost mechanical sound.

Wukong put one arm under his pillow and the other around Nezha's head. Wukong stroked his hair and sang a lullaby he wrote for his children.

Nezha fell asleep chest-to-chest with his favorite person in the universe and was happy to spend every night for the rest of their shared immortal lives like this.

Part 24:

Masterpost

@istopaskingmemate @weaverpop @swkbiggestdefender @starrclown @ainnur @fruit-fight

[morethanmemory]

Imagine being his right hand while he's still a mob boss and he helps you put on the skeleton paint <3

They'd probably get to choose the colors of the paint, too, as he'd want his right hand to be easily distinguishable from the rest of the goons

Pairing: Doctor Phosphorus/Reader

Warnings: None; Some suggestive touching heheh ;)

Notes: anon this is lowkey so cute !! i'm a lil obsessed so a short blurb about it for you >:3c dragon reader makes a comeback in this au!

---

"You're kidding, right? I'll look like a walking Halloween decoration," you deadpan, fiddling with the lid of the neon green face paint as a frown tugs at your lips.

He scoffs as he takes the jar of glow-in-the dark paint from your fingers and unscrews the top.

"You already look like a Renaissance fair prop, so what's the big deal?" he retorts, tittering as he gestures at the sturdy horns atop your head. Your eyes narrow as you fix him with an unamused glower, but undeterred, he strides forward. As he takes another step closer, Phosphorus dips his fingers into the paint jar before waggling them at your face. The luminescent paint glitters on his fingertips under the dim lights of his office, sizzling against his fiery skin as the sparkling rivulets roll down his palm. Another step and he's leaning over you, pressing you up against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk.

"C'mon," he urges gently. The simple plea rumbles in the back of his throat, deep and warm, and briefly, you're tempted to give in to his stupid, gaudy idea and let him paint you his. The soft purr of his voice makes your knees weak, and the sharp scent of radiation has your head spinning with its own stupid idea. The thought's crossed your mind more than once. Fleeting moments of curiosity when you've wondered what it'd be like to taste him. You could do it now if you wanted to. It'd be easy. Get on the tips of your toes, close the little space left between the two of you. But it's a bad idea—Phosphorus and you. He's as brash as he is flashy; you're hotheaded and stubborn to a fault. You'd both be playing with fire, and when neither of you can burn beneath the flames, you'll be stuck in hell forever.

In a poor attempt to bury the nagging desire to yank him down by his tie and kiss him stupid, you bat his hand away, but he's faster. With a swift swipe of his thumb, Phosphorus smudges the tip of your nose with a dab of paint, snickering as you scrunch up your face.

For a split second, he feels whatever is left of his heart stutter in his chest as you splutter and scowl. The twitch of your nose, the pinch of your brow, the pout of your lips, the shimmer of your scales—you're surprisingly adorable for a beast with hellfire in your veins. Despite himself, Phosphorus reaches up to brush his knuckles along your cheek, smearing green paint along the sharp scutes. In the silence of his office, with you silhouetted by Gotham's skyline and the stars above as his only witness, Phosphorus lets himself pretend—even if just for a moment—that this is something else, something more.

But your fingers wrap around his wrist, tugging his hand away, and he's dragged back into the world of endless, empty parties and drugs that never really numb the pain. Shallow and vapid is the life he leads now, but, at least, there's you at the end of every day.

And that means more to him than he'd like to admit.

His hand drops to his side, and Phosphorus chuckles quietly, praying his nerves don't bleed into his words. "What, not a fan of the brand?"

You shrug as your hands slide up to his chest with the crumbling intent to push him away. Your touch lingers a little longer than it should just to feel the warmth of his radiation seep into your palms through the fine wools of his dark suit.

"Sorry, boss," you apologize, half-hearted at most. Gently, you pat his chest. "Neon green's not really my color."

You haven't pulled away; he hasn't stepped back.

"Then," he begins coyly, grinning even if (or, perhaps, because) you can't see it, "what is?"

You don't expect him to take your answer seriously, to take you seriously—not for something as frivolous as this anyway. Sure, as his right hand, there are matters he takes your word for in a heartbeat. Phosphorus doesn't forget the faces of the rats you've sniffed out in his ranks. Still, you didn't think he'd ever actually remember your favorite color.

But, the next night, there it is, just sitting in his hand—a small jar of phosphorescent paint in the shade you love most.

"Do I have to?" you whine, arms crossed as you slouch against the back of the leather couch. The frown tugging your lips downward belies the fluttering butterflies in your stomach. He remembered your favorite color. The logical part of your mind (the part that's hopelessly in denial) says it means nothing, but your heart knows otherwise—and it's screaming in protest.

He reaches toward you, and you turn your head, sticking up your nose. You don't trust yourself to look at him when the lines between the two of you start blurring. It happens more often than not these days.

"Uh, yeah," he smirks, shuffling closer. "I didn't break into an arts and crafts store for no reason."

The cushions sag under the sudden shift of his weight, and you can feel his soft breaths tickle the back of your neck, making your scales rustle. You laugh under your breath, eyes trained on the intricate wooden molding trimming the ceiling of his office, and you try desperately to snuff out the simmering warmth in the pit of your belly.

"Oh, so that was you?" You spare him a quick glance over your shoulder. "The Carol's Crafts arson on the Upper East Side?"

"Actually, it was Gary."

You can't stop the bright laughter that bubbles up past your lips. Trust Gary, of all of Phosphorus's dim-witted lackeys, to be the one to set a store ablaze all for a few cans of glow-in-the-dark paint.

"Well, then, send him my thanks," you tell Phosphorus as a small smile curls your lips. You're turning back to face him before you can stop yourself, and you don't say a word when he moves close enough for your knees to touch.

"I'll make sure to get him a gift basket."

Phosphorus inches nearer, his thigh pressing against yours, and he holds up the jar between the two of you.

"Now, I don't know about you," he drawls, low and larky, "but—me, personally—I wouldn't want all of Gary's hard work to be in vain."

With a roll of your eyes, you reluctantly take the paint from his hand and unscrew the cap.

"Just so you know," you scoff, smiling despite the hint of annoyance lacing your words, "I'm only doing this for Gary."

A whispery laugh leaves him as he dips his fingers into the paint.

"Whatever you say."

The embers of something you'd long forgotten smolder to life in your chest, and you don't even realize you're holding your breath until it escapes you in a sharp gasp as cold paint and warm fingertips touch your cheek.

He chuckles, leaning in and crowding you against the couch. "Relax."

Phosphorus is walking death, but when he cups your jaw in his hand and strokes your silver scales with his thumb, you think you'd welcome the end with open arms. Your eyes flutter shut. You don't see how his hand trembles.

He's never told you this—and he probably never will—but every single time he touches you just a little too long, he's terrified. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of his office echoes through the room in a taunting, torturous melody as his fingers slowly glide over the planes of your face. Tick. The radiation should have seared your skin. Tock. By now, it should have ripped through your flesh. The clock strikes the quarter-hour with crystalline chimes; every single cell in your body should have been incinerated. He waits for the horrified shrieks of unimaginable pain each time. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. They never come.

Instead, your soft sighs and quiet giggles tinkle through the air as you squirm away from his ticklish touch.

"Stay still," he grunts, dragging his finger down the bridge of your nose.

But you can't stop laughing, shoulders shaking, as the contrasting sensations of cool paint and scorching skin make your scales tingle. "This paint smells like shit."

The pad of his index finger swirls over the button of your nose, and he bites back a smile when you wrinkle it. If he squints just right, Phosphorus thinks he can see something real through all the cheap thrills of this hollow life, and it's there in the twinkle of your eyes.

ACHOO!

Dragon fire skitters down his hand when you sneeze, and he flinches away, streaking the colorful paint across your face and up one scaly ear.

"Seriously?!" he cries shrilly, but there's no real bite to his words. "Did you just sneeze all over me?"

"S-Sorry, sorry!" you stammer between wheezing laughs, handing him a tissue. "I c-couldn't help it!"

You can't make out much of his indignant muttering as he wipes his hand clean before flinging the soiled tissue into the waste bin behind him, but you're certain he's not singing your praises. You're about to apologize again, but the words die on the tip of your tongue when his fingers gently grab your jaw, tilting your head back until your eyes meet his hollow sockets.

You wait for his usual scathing sarcasm, but he stays silent. Without a word, Phosphorus takes another tissue from the box and gently dabs at the paint in your hair. His tender affection is unexpected, unfamiliar, and yet, you lean into his touch anyway. "I can do this myself, y'know," you murmur in poor protest. It's not very convincing when you do nothing to stop him.

"I know." He brushes away the flecks of paint that litter the shell of your ear. "But..."

Whatever he's about to say catches in his throat.

You peer up at him through your lashes. "But?"

You can't see it, but you swear he's smiling. Really smiling.

"Nothing," he mutters. "Just don't want you fucking up my handiwork again."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," you apologize dramatically. "I had no idea Picasso had blessed me with his presence."

He groans, cringing. "Don't compare me to him."

"Why not? You hate Cubism or something?"

"The whack job was an asshole," Phosphorus bristles. For a moment, you think you catch a glimpse of the old him. Alexander Sartorius isn't a man you know very well, but he's always there just beneath the radiation. Sometimes, he breaks through the deadly flames, humming along to Bach or quoting Dante's Inferno (usually at your expense). You tuck away the tidbit that Alexander hates Picasso in the back of your mind.

"And you're not?" you shoot back with an impish smirk. He pinches your cheek.

"You are aware that I can always fire you, right?" he threatens lightly, wiping up the last stray splotches of paint from your temple.

"Doesn't mean you will," you reply with a simple shrug—stubborn and smug as always. He shouldn't like it as much as he does. Phosphorus brushes off your little, uppity remark with a click of his tongue before reaching for the paint once more.

This time, Phosphorus works with precision. Yet, despite his newfound determination, his touches remain oddly tender. He evens out the curves of the skeletal face, superimposed on your own, with the smallest scratch of his fingertips around the apples of your cheeks. His digits slide gently down your jaw to fill in the missing pieces of the mandible. He traces the Cupid's bow of your lips with his thumb in a stroke so slow that a shiver runs down your spine. He prays you can't hear the thundering of his old heart.

Phosphorus mumbles a flimsy excuse that you—too lost in the feeling of his free hand running down the arch of your back—don't really hear. You're too far away. You're moving too much. He needs you to come closer.

You let him pull you into his lap, fighting down a soft sigh. He lets your thighs straddle his hips, biting back a quiet moan. So, this is what it's like to hold a fallen star.

He drags his paint-tipped fingers down and over your lips. The finishing touch.

And yet.

He tucks a finger under your chin.

Your name falls from his lips in a wisp of a breath, and you know, without a doubt, that the battle your mind wages against your heart is a losing one with every tick of the grandfather clock.

His lips brush against yours in a ghost of a touch.

The heavy wooden doors to his office slam open, followed by a cacophony of hollering cronies, and your quiet world of stolen touches and words unspoken shatters like glass. A sea of bright green skeletal faces flood into the room just as the two of you jump apart. Their words all blend together as you try to orient yourself, but as the haze in your head clears, you manage to make out enough. Ice Lounge. A big party, an important party. Phosphorus is late.

So, you let them usher both of you out and into the elevator. Phosphorus berates the idiots for not knocking. Gary compliments you on the hue of the skull painted over your scales (you thank him for the arson).

The few centimeters between Phosphorus and you might as well be a chasm. Still, your eyes meet across the distance. Neon green, you think, is growing on you.

[mushysquashythingamajig]

Bucktommy Fluffebruary

DAY 9: MOVING IN TOGETHER

@bucktommyfluffebruary

The idea of 'moving in' for their relationship had been forever tainted. Did Buck think about it after they got back together? Yes, he did. Several times actually. But the fear of not being on the same page had stopped Buck from discussing it.

Buck never realised how intertwined the two of them had become. Both Evan's stuff at Tommy's house and Tommy's stuff at Evan's loft had become a common sight. Them being spotted wearing each other's clothes had completely stopped being surprising.

"So, I was thinking maybe we can move in together. It's not an obligation, and you can back out if you want, but I was thinking that this is finally the right stage in our relationship to do so." Evan muttered at he scrubbed his body.

Evan and Tommy had decided to get dinner together and he was thinking of popping the question. It was nerve-racking. The 118 had been useless, Chim and Bobby being supportive but Eddie and Hen being apprehensive. Ravi had no clue what was going on and refused to be a part of their shenanigans.

He stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his hair with a towel before moving over to the tablet, crossing several lines of his written out speech. He didn't want to blabber, but he didn't want it to feel insignificant. He wanted Tommy to know that he was all in.

"Ugh, why is this so hard?" Evan was really frustrated. He had been planning this out for a while and it still didn't feel enough. "Y'know what screw it. I'm just gonna tell him straight up. Tommy, I feel like ever since we made up. we've been on the same page in this relationship. And I feel like we should move it to the next level."

"Evan?" A deep voice called from the above level and Buck's heart stopped.

No no no no. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to wait until the end, maybe during the walk and then he was supposed to ask him. Not like this. Not when he was so under prepared.

The turn around was excruciating. Tommy was standing on the stairs, his mouth open with shock. He was staring right at Buck and it felt like he was about to combust under his boyfriend's gaze. Or, with his track record, soon about-to-be-ex boyfriend.

"T-Tommy? When d-did you get here?" Evan stammered.

Tommy didn't reply. He just stepped down the stair. Evan knew what was gonna happen. Tommy was gonna leave. He was gonna leave and never look back, and Evan was gonna be all alone again. Tommy didn't do that. He stepped towards Buck.

It felt like time slowed down. Tommy's hands reaching for Buck. Tommy's hands gently grabbing Evan's neck. Tommy's lips on his. Tommy.

The kiss was not unlike the one's that they shared. But somehow, it felt different. Maybe it was the torrent of emotions both of them were feeling. Maybe it was the fact that the adrenaline was making Evan's heart thump like crazy. Regardless, when Tommy finally pulled away, he felt light headed.

"Baby, you were gonna ask me to move in with you?" Tommy's voice snapped him out of whatever stupor he was stuck in.

He didn't say much though. Just rubbed his cheek against the hand holding his face.

"Well, I'm glad we're on the same page because I was gonna ask you too." Tommy's eyes were filling with tears. "I didn't help that your sister and Karen were useless. But I wanted this too."

His sister being mentioned pulled a laugh out of him. Seems like Tommy went through the same thing that he went through with the 118.

"Evan, will you move in with me?" Tommy finally spoke.

Evan had never been surer of anything.

[slapthosewilliessilly]

The shit these drugs will do to you

Josh Washington x AFAB Reader

Warnings; MDNI 18+, smut, AFAB reader, Asthmatic Reader, Stoner Josh, Weed smoker Josh, Josh is a fucking muncher, begging, oral receiving (fem), drug use, body worship if you squint, semi established relationship, partying, awkward situation

I wrote this while I was insanely stoned and sipping chocolate milk hope y’all enjoy! Requests are still up just send a message whenever!

Photo credit to anti.huntress on instagram!

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

“You uh- you ever smoke before?” Josh asked, his back turned towards you as he seemed to dig around in his drawer for something.

Your eyebrow arched as you watched him, sat criss crossed on Josh’s bed. Swirling whatever bright blue concoction Jess poured for you in the cup in your hand. God that was forever ago- hard to forget it’s 3AM and all the others were passed out for the night. “I mean I’ve taken a hit off of Jess’ geek bar before. Almost died.” That made Josh chuckle.

“No I’m not talking about a geek bar.” Josh said before turning around, showing a small baggie with some joints inside making your eyes widen slightly. You never knew he smoked pot. “Can’t say that I have.” You answered.

“Do you…” Josh started before taking a seat on the bed. “Want to have some? With me?” First time you’ve seen Josh almost nervous.

“I mean sure but-“ you hesitated. “I have asthma Josh I don’t know if it’s the smartest idea for me.” You felt almost disappointed by your own answer, it was embarrassing sometimes.

“We can shot gun it.” Josh suggested almost too quickly, the faintest blush on his face. You chuckled, unfamiliar with the term. “Shot gun a joint? Dude what does that even mean?”

Josh grinned slightly again as he opened the small baggie and pulled out one of his joints. “Well would you rather me tell you about it,” Josh spoke before setting the baggie to the floor and holding the joint between his thumb and index finger, looking at you with an expression similar to one of endearment. “or do you want me to show you?”

That made your cheeks flush slightly, his usual cool and collected tone seemed sweeter- excited almost. You felt your thighs twitch absentmindedly, you could always blame it on the alcohol.

“Show me.”

You spoke with a breathless whisper, surprised that Josh could even hear you. But he did. He grinned before scooting closer to you, “Just relax, I’m taking care of you- just follow my lead.” He reassured you, once you nodded he brought his joint to his lips and dug in his back pocket for his little flip lighter.

Watching Josh smoke was definitely doing something to you, you weren’t sure exactly why but seeing how his lips were wrapped around it and inhaling was sending heat straight to your core. You wondered how good he’d look with his lips wrapped around something else.

God you sounded like Mike.

Josh gave you a sideways glance as he exhaled through his nostrils, a small smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. He brought the joint to his lips once more, inhaling deeply before turning to face you. The joint in one hand, his other hand gently caressing the side of your face. A look on his face seemingly asking ‘you ready?’

You nodded, suddenly your mouth felt dry. Josh leaned forward- his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he gently began to blow the smoke into your mouth, lips just an inch away as your eyes fluttered shut and you inhaled what Josh was so generously giving you.

Your skin felt hot from the proximity alone, tingles and electricity covering your body. God your core is damn near pulsing on his bed with the thought of how easy this would be to take it to the next level.

When the heat of Josh’s presence faded and your eyes fluttered open, face feeling hot paired with an indescribable need for Josh Washington to be inside you right now. When your eyesight focused you were met with Josh’s red tinted eyes all but gleaming at you with a smug grin on his face. It makes you cough in a brief awkward manner at the realization of how you were looking at him like you wanted to jump his fucking bones.

“Woah hey girl easy-“ Josh comforted as he placed a hand on your back, rubbing circles onto your now sensitive skin. “Take a breath, we’re cool. You actually did really well.” He soothed in a soft and subtle tone.

Oh god the praise.

You were already half soaked you didn’t need him to add more fuel to the fire. You recovered from your coughing only a moment or two later, sometimes once it started it was hard to stop. Josh only continued his sweet slow circles on your back, carefully watching you to see if he needed to grab your inhaler for you.

“Sorry.” You blurted, eyes on your lap in embarrassment.

“Dude for what?” Josh asked quietly, his hand feeling lower on your back than what it did when he first touched you. Maybe you were imagining things.

“I just- I feel like a weirdo for looking at you like that. I’m sorry.” Jesus this was humiliating. “Hey-“ Josh’s hand moved to your knee, making your skin jerk slightly in surprise.

“We’re cool, you’re totally fine. Promise.” Josh soothed. How could he not feel how hot your skin was? “In fact…” Josh whispered, his eyes focused where your plush thighs were clenched. A faint smirk on his face before his eyes moved up to catch yours.

“You want some help there?” He asked, referring down to your slightly grinding thighs. You were going to cry if you couldn’t get more friction.

You felt caught red handed. You felt lightheaded, giddy, nervous, and soaked- you bet your face was hot red. “Please Josh?”

Josh’s eyes widened slightly, jaw slacked as he studied your expression carefully in case you weren’t being serious. He didn’t actually think you’d entertain what he said, but neither did you.

You didn’t know what josh did faster- shove his lips on yours or put out the joint in his ashtray of the bedside table. His hands felt like they were everywhere, trying to devour you by touch. Your thighs, your hips, the side of your neck, your breast- leaning you back further onto his bed and climbing over top of you.

His lips felt everywhere too. Your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, up and down your neck. His lips meeting with your own once more after you whined when he kissed your breasts through your shirt. God he was making you feel dizzy but you never wanted it to stop.

“Can I taste you?” Josh whispered his question, his fingers almost pawing at the waist band of your shorts. His breathing heavy and almost ragged, you shivered at the idea of him holding back.

“Yes-“ that was the only thing Josh needed to hear before kissing you passionately once more as his fingers hurriedly began to slide your shorts off. After your shorts then it was your shirt, nipples being met with his soft kisses as well before adjusting you both.

Your legs dangling off the edge of his bed as Josh moved you carefully with a strong touch, moving your knees to rest on top of his shoulders as he got on his knees.

Josh took his time, wanting to make you squirm and beg for him to fuck you with his tongue. He left soft kisses all over the inside of your thighs, his hot breath fanning against your clit making you shiver in anticipation.

“Please-“

“Please what baby?” Josh’s eyes interrupted your weak plead with a question. Blue eyes glinting something smug from their place between your thighs. “Tell me pretty girl.” He purred before lowering his head and blowing soft cool air against your heated entrance.

“Fucking-“ you whined. Tears building in the corner of your eyes. You didn’t know what to say- you forgot how to beg. Laying there soaked waiting for Josh to just devour you was just torture. “Don’t tease me anymore please I need it so bad.” Your voice shook slightly as you pleaded for the wait to be over- you wanted to cum on his face and you wanted to do it now.

“I’m so sorry baby.” Josh cooed- you could feel that smirk of his radiating off of him. “Let me take care of you pretty girl.”

You nearly squealed when you felt his lips wrap around your clit and began to suck and lick you apart. Thighs squeezing Josh’s head closer as he devoured you entirely. The sounds of wet slurping and his panting combined with your moans and mewls of pleasure echoed through the room.

“Holy fuck! Oh shit baby-“ you moaned, “so fucking good Josh holy shit-!” Your squeals only seemed to make Josh more determined in his mission of having you cum all over his face.

You felt so close to the edge already and he barely started. Josh’s hands roughly gripped onto your thighs, not minding at all how you were squeezing his head so tightly. Lightheaded and eyes rolling to the back of your head as Josh pushed you closer and closer to the edge- eating you out like a man fucking starved. Did having sex stoned always feel this good?

Your hips grinded absentmindedly against Josh’s face, seeking just the slightest bit more friction to cum. Your words slurring as you moved your hips against his face faster, Josh’s hands holding your pussy tight against his face before he sucked on your clit again.

You squealed one more time as you felt yourself soak Josh’s face in your fluids, looking down at him between your thighs already looking up at you with half lidded eyes. Your breathing hitched slightly at the sight. Josh waited until you were shivering and body twitching for him to pull away. Josh made his way up to your lips once more, you could taste yourself on his tongue and it was almost addictive.

When Josh pulled away he rested his forehead in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily, seemingly trying to steady himself. Glancing down you see a wet mark on his jeans from your current position. “Josh did you- did you cum in your pants from that?”

Josh could only answer with a slight scoff. “Shut up.”

[thisisalovestry]

file -> phrases that are going to shift something in me forever

[heartorbit]

i'm sending this endless melody to a nameless you

[cyellolemon]

Hi im so obsessed with these two

ocs: Onirique (black hair one, he/it) and Lysander (pink hair, he/him)

[s0lar-ch3ri]

okay hi waves im making a vers on here so the chat can read it (theres mentions of being sick ofc, animal death [its quick and about rats], and brief descriptions of kissing) I FINISHED IT LATE LAST NIGHT SO IF ITS WEIRD MAYBE THATS WHY ANYWAYS TAKE IT

Vyncent, or Virion, whatever name you’d like, he had no room to care right now, had lived on Prime for months. He might have even been here a year, hard to tell. Things get busy as an elf-boy superhero with your home world’s great heroes in your brain that give you use, who happens to have befriended a red head with so much energy and the power to kill the sun in a kick if he wanted, a white haired guy who had a book that could just make your worst of nightmares look tame and also sometimes a fairy, and a dead black-haired boy who couldn’t stop meeting the dead for some reason. Lots of stuff in Vyncent’s life.

So could someone explain to him that what was a common cold for anybody else here put Virion out of commission? Sure, he was more prone to getting sick, he’d face it like every other week, but at least then he could hide it! Sick wasn’t good back home. Sick was a death sentence, and this was why. When you can’t get up, you can’t run, you can’t fight. If healing magic didn’t fix you, it may work best to cut that loss yourself.

Unfortunately, Vyncent didn’t have healing magic, and trying to reach the Greats while you feel so uncomfortable and gross and, well, sick, you might rather eat rat poison. As such, he had to bug Will about it. He hasn’t even seen Will get a cough now that he’s thinking about it. Granted, he was dead and awesome, so maybe that had something to do with it.

“You’re not normally this hot, right? I have to make sure, again.” Will’s fingertips were slightly blackened, and the cold feeling on his forehead while nice almost made him jump. Right, dead boy cold. Cold dead boy. Cold hot dead boy- no, elf boy hot, dead boy cold. Yes, this made sense and was logical. Don’t question Vyncent, he’s normal and fine minus everything wrong with him.

“Mmm mmgh,” an excellent denial from Vyncent. He’s so good at this.

“Right, just…how long are you normally sick? Like, back home, does it get this bad? Do you guys even get sick there, or do you just, I dunno, shoot it better?”

He better not be mockin’ me.

He’s Will. He likes living, or whatever he is right now.

Right, the Greats. Not always Will’s biggest fans, but they weren’t going to come out while sick so rather than hear his voice insult his friend, he heard all their comments and thoughts insulting his friend. Bothering him, that’s what they’re “Great” at (he should leave the puns to the other guys).

“Mgh…” Great stuff Virion. Let’s see how William responds.

“Great stuff Vynce.” He puts a bowl on the table which seems to have a collection of ingredients that regular soup didn’t have.

“What’s-” He coughed a bit, cursed lungs. “What in that?”

“It’s a soup, just with stuff that you can actually eat. Like rats and stuff. I tried to put some medicine in it, just to see.”

“Where’d-” More coughs. “Where’d the rats come from?”

Will shudders. “I don’t think you want to know.”

Vyncent laughed a bit. He let his brain indulge itself, imagining what may have happened to get them. The image of him hunting the rats kept appearing in there. If his ears were a little more red, he’d blame being sick.

He just brought you soup, calm down lover boy.

Shut up, shut up shut up shut up.

[I think the kid’s embarrassed.]

Come on Stryder, pleaseeeeee.

Your pining is not hard to spot.

NOT YOU TOO ALPHONZ.

Vyncent turned over to his side, using the pillow to cover his ears as if that’ll work, groaning the whole time.

“You good man?”

“Yeah…’m jus’ feeling stupid…”

“Nobody feels too great when sick.”

“Mghh…”

“Can we try some soup? It should help, and you do have to eat.”

Vyncent had been so out of it, he forgot how long it had been since he ate. Maybe that’s why he felt so shit. Memory is dumb and should die forever. This is a logical conclusion. Vyncent was always a man of logic. You had to trust him.

He turned back over to Will, who happened to pull off the sickly look very well, attempting to push himself up so he could eat something. He could do things for himself, surely. Don’t ask him how well he’d do at them, because he wouldn’t lie and say he’d be great, cause that’s totally not lying. Totally.

I hope you can hear the sarcasm.

“No man, don’t- just sit back, it- it’s fine. You look deathly man, that’s coming from me.”

The emphasis was joking, making Vyncent giggle.

“Fine…”

“Save the energy.”

Like a baby, Vyncent was spoon fed soup, which the comparison he’d make would hurt more if he wasn’t just stuck on Will. His face was heating up, sure, but maybe it was less than the illness. Maybe it was more Will.

[He’s finally admitting it, good gods, took you long enough.]

Shhhhhhhhut it.

You’d think he’d have picked up on it by now, how bad you are.

Be ‘iet….

“Hm?”

“They're being loud…”

“Greats?”

“Mhm…they’re judging me.”

“About what? If they’re being dicks, uh- well, I couldn’t really fight Alphonz. Or Min. Or Ram. Or any of them- I’ll pretend like I can fight them!”

Vyncent laughs at this guy, this idiot he adores with all his heart, no matter how much of it will admit that. “Bout how pretty you are.”

Vyncent didn’t recall ever seeing Will blush, but this seemed, like, close to it. He starts nervously chuckling. “You really think that?”

“Mhm, ‘art of why I like you.”

He saw the cogs in Will’s brain malfunction and sputter. Did it make him lose it inside to have said that? Sure, but in the end, it’s Will. He’d hate to lose a friend right now, but he’s done worse and stuck around, and maybe in the end, Will could find someone who doesn’t get sick every other week.

“I- Uh- Vynce you feeling alright? Your forehead is really hot.” He starts nervously chuckling again. He did that a lot.

“Mhm, dead boy hot.”

Someone’s gained guts! Finally!

I actually have 0 idea what I’m doing and I don’t think I can back down now, so uh, thanks.

[Oh, yeah, no. You actually suck ass at this.]

Thanks asshole.

It is not a failure on your end. Your courting attempts seem to be affecting him well.

There was a detail in Will’s eyes. Just a glint of something. Was it hope, denial, something that was any more terrifying? Vyncent has little idea what’s happening at this point until they do. He’s going to hold onto that look though. He hopes it's something better than he could be. Just maybe something that gives him a sign.

“You- uh, you’re a hot elf boy, man, yeah.” He stumbled around his words, trying to not make eye contact. He sat on the sofa a bit awkwardly.

This is so stupid. I’m so stupid for this- the last sane thoughts of Vyncent as he moves- I’m so so terribly dumb for this. With a loss of any sanity and dignity he gets up and somewhat crawls over to William. He’s locked onto William’s eyes, and maybe his lips. Maybe this rotten dead man can be the medicine to cure him. His sickness feels a bit deeper than medical anyways.

“V-Vynce? W-Something up man?”

He cups Will’s face with a hand and rubs his thumb against his cheek. This is wrong, this is so so stupid and wrong and maybe Vyncent knows but also he has never felt this confidence and honestly? May as well use it to his advantage, the Fallen Ones know he would never get to do this again, not being this confident.

Vyncent had never kissed anybody. Kissing wasn’t exactly a Fauna thing, at least not what Vyncent learned, so this was new. It was a new sensation. On a regular level, this was just pushing his lips against another pair of lips. Emotionally, he was in a dream land. Things felt great. Will’s cold lips were a nice startlement, a shock turned to a calming cool throughout his body. They basically melted from the initial surprise into the kiss, Vyncent laying on top of Will as he light-headedly pulled back.

“...Woah.”

“‘Retty nice. You…your lips ‘aste ‘ice.” Vyncent had a love-strivenly stupid smile, and at this point, hiding from himself or Will was futile. It felt soft and comfortable in this moment, and knowing that even if he was weird inside, Will wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t have to either, Virion could lay on this couch and he didn’t have to run. He didn’t have to hide. That was something to like. He snuggled into Will.

“Movie ‘ight?”

“I- sure man. Not the weirdest it could be.”

“I like this.”

“Love you too, Vynce.”

Love you too.

who up ghosting their sick knife