#sorry if I sound mean Im just so tired of seeing the same claims over and over

[neurotheascars]

First of all, no idea why this post had reblogs turned off but Ill respond here. Original post this for those who need context is here.

@fawna-lariat

First lemme get something out of the way:

You don't HAVE to do anything. You saying that just gives me the impression that you're a negativity chasing alter because that's exactly what I say when I'm thirsty for a fight.

Just because you know already that I probably won't agree with you doesn't mean I'm not listening. Word of advice- Get it out on your own blog. I'm only going to respond to you because you are being civil. But your attitude is grating to me because it feels like you didn't read a lick of the post you're commenting on.

I'm not a fragmented piece of a whole. I am a complete entity. It is extremely upsetting and triggering to keep hearing people insist that being an alter means you broke off of something. That's certainly a way for alters to form but it's not the only way and I'm tired of having "parts language" forced on to me. I know what I fucking am. I am a separate person. If you don't think I am you are denying my lived experience and ignoring the way a trauma victim literally exists. Parts language actually kept my system from healing so please fucking stop carrying that outdated claim about "shattered self" around like it's fact. It's not a reality for every system and I know more than one therapist that believes it is harmful to just assume a system is just one person broken into parts.

I'm pretty sure I've seen the sources you're talking about but there are other sources that contradict what you're saying too. My therapist honestly thinks being anti endo is a really misinformed stance in general if you need to hear that. You could really have your pick of information that proves your position is extremely narrow minded but I think you're comfortable and not going to do anymore research until you stumble upon it. You also don't seem to understand the real life context of what these studies actually prove or don't prove either.

You can send me that source, but I don't have the mental capability to comb through and properly refute claims in the manner that people like sophie and SAS do. I'm on mobile and I can't use tabs.

I've also already read a lot. I made a post a while back saying I was done with syscourse. I've also done a lot of research on entity creation techniques and parapsychology. I have 13ish years of experience on the topic and I know that mainstream psychology is only just now catching up to the reality of it all. I don't have the energy to entertain people who get dogmatic about mental health because I've deep dived in a way I can bet you haven't.

You aren't going to change my mind simply because you demonstrably don't know what I know.

Bottom line, you're talking to an alien who knows too much about this. And as a system who deals with all the dissociation and BS that comes with a did diagnosis, who was helped by created entities when we finally learned about the trauma, I frankly don't care if endos are in my community because it really really doesn't fucking matter.

Ive met cringey endos I don't like, but they don't "flood in to ruin my community" because I can block them without making them feel unwelcome and I want them to feel welcome because I don't know who they are or what they've been through. I don't know who might see me treating them poorly, and every system I'm ever met has been afraid of not feeling "valid" enough and gee I wonder why that could be when anti endos are drawing hard lines about how a system can form and behave.

And the thing is endos do know what being plural is like. Your belief that they don't isn't even a claim that can be backed with science. You're just making a sweeping generalization about what you think strangers understand. That's why I really dislike anti endos. The constant assumptions make my blood boil. I can't deal with that on the regular.

But regardless of anything you're saying about the distinction between tulpas and alters, endos are actually safer in the event of trauma occurring because their system hasn't had to deal with trauma to become organized. They have the option to be an organized system before trauma hits and are better for it because of their multiple consciousnesses.

That is just one unique way for a system to present and it's completely valid. If you think tulpas are real, but not alters then you should know that it's pretty easy for them to become alters. This is what happened to my IRL partner system. I'm not going to share their trauma story, but they are a group of tulpas that came from a paracosm that experienced trauma and now have to deal with all that extra stuff.

See you don't even realize it, but you're claiming my partner both doesn't understand what being plural is really like and that his alters aren't actually alters because he made them. Which, based on my lived experience with them, just isn't true. I don't need a peer reviewed paper to believe the lived experience of people right in front of me and that's why I don't agree with you. These studies never really concretely prove total absolutes and they don't claim to.

In fact its so easy for created alters to get all that extra trauma related dissociation with how stressful this shit world is that this distinction you're making really doesn't fucking matter in the end and only alienates people who are indeed trauma victims who might need support either now or in the future.

If you guys care so much about trauma victims why are you so hellbent on getting upset at and insulted by people who you literally don't know could be trauma victims. And if they aren't, a split consciousness configuration literally is the brain's way of dealing with trauma so tell me why it's so bad to be metaphorically holding the fire extinguisher in hand when the fire happens instead of having to run and break glass to get to it when you actually need it.

I truly don't think you know what you're talking about and saying that tulpas are real but they don't "count" as alters sounds like some highschool shit. I don't think you grasp that endos can have trauma separate from the origin of their alters and it's actually not your business if they do or not. It's only that their trauma isn't the cause of their alters. They may still have trauma that their alters help out with. I would agree that having a fragmented sense of self definitely makes it easier to create alters, but it doesn't mean you can't without the trauma.

I remember reading in a lot of grimoires and books on spirituality that anything that involves things like lucid dreaming, hedge crossing, and entity conjuration is easier for those who have been through an "ordeal". "Magic" and tulpamancy is easier if you've been through some life ruining shit. Thats all this claim that "created entities don't stick around in an unfragmented mind" means to me

Like yeah duh it's gonna take more effort to keep them there if you don't have your "head cracked open" as some spirit workers used to say.

The fact that I have witnessed with my own eyes what you say is impossible means to me that your science is incomplete.

Again, nobody is insulting you by simply existing and a lot of them do know what it's like to be plural.

[seancekitsch]

Soft, sleepy Cahir? Just...give that man some rest

hey isn't it cool i finally answered this months later!! im sorry my dear :(

“Hi. Can you do enemies to lovers with Cahir? “

i combined the two requests!!!

“Why don’t you just lay down?” you huff, rolling your eyes as you shift on the bed. Cahir sits rigid on the side of the bed, his only resting being his spine against the headboard. His eyes stay fixed on the candle on the table near the window, his body refusing to relax. 

“Why?” he asks, “So you can slit my throat while I sleep and claim your reward?”

You smirk, laughing soundlessly.

“Is that a joke?”

Finally, the man turns just ever so slightly to look your way.

“I’d do it to you,” he admits, and yes, you have to understand his point. He’s a two time Nilfgaardian fugitive traveling with a half elf misfit with ties to a witcher. It’s surprising you even got this room at an inn without being arrested. 

“And yet here I am lounging comfortably next to you. A beautiful woman in your bed and you sit here sulking,” you tease him, knowing full well that just yesterday you had a knife to his throat. The man is infuriating. 

“Some solider you are,” you bite, and maybe thats a little unfair. Cahir turns to you, and in the candlelight you can see just how tired and weak he is, the bags under his eyes purpled and sunken, his brow furrowed with stress, the corners of his mouth turned down as if keeping a straight expression had become too exhausting. He leans in closely.

“Just because I am not some pervert with no honor does not mean I am not a good soldier,” he hisses, and you know you’ve struck deeper than you thought you did. 

But you’ve never been one to back down, just diffuse. 

“Easy,” you warn, shifting to sit up next to him, leaning towards his frame until you share the same air, “I did not mean to prick you between your armor. I apologize.”

It surprises even yourself how earnest you sound; no, how earnest you are. Cahir’s shoulders slump, conceding. 

“You’re right, I’ll lay down,” he nods, shifting on the pillows until he lays next to you, both of you now staring at the ceiling, the candlelight finally starting to dim. 

“I should listen to your more, Witch,” he admits, his voice little more than a whisper, “This feels nice.”

You turn to look at him, the ghost of a smile now tugging at his lips. You open your mouth, thinking of something smart to retort with, but nothing comes. 

Instead, you let him have this one and try to focus on sleeping. 

You wake up warm, warmer than the sun’s light should make you. Fear grips you for a moment, worried the candle your travel companion had lit had tipped over in the night somehow despite the window being firmly shut. But the crackling of flames does not reach your ears, and your body relaxes into the warmth, your eyes shutting tightly as you nuzzle into the warmth and snuggle deeper. This is the comfiest you’ve been in ages, the chill and tension wiped from your muscles. 

“Stop- Stop squirming,” the lump of blankets you cling to mutters, and you all but jump away. 

“Cahir!” your voice a weak and cracked yelp, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

“Come back,” he mumbles, the crease in his brow pronounced in annoyance.

You ease back in slowly, trying to mimic the natural tangle of limbs that you’d been in since some vulnerable point in the night.

“Thats it,” he encourages you, his arms coming back around you to cradle you gently. You tighten your grip on him slowly, until you’re lazily clutching him with your arms and legs, wrapped around him so naturally. His hand comes up to the back of your head, dipping you further into his chest until you’re laying on him.

“Are you always this clingy in the morning?” you joke, hoping it comes off more playful than moment ruining. He’s not a bad man, as much as you’d like to tell him. Laying with him like this is… nice. Sweet, even. 

“Only when my bedmate is as infuriating and… soft as you,” he mumbles against you, sleep creeping back into his voice. As it seems, he was even more tired than you thought. When was the last time he had slept well? Weeks? Months? You dare not ask… years?

You chuckle, and close your eyes, resting your cheek against his clavicle, letting yourself lean into the embrace. Cahir sighs, and his lips brush against your hairline. It’s not a kiss, but it isn’t some innocent gesture either. 

You decide not to read too much into it as you fall back asleep.

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hello! This is kind of a long request and well- Hopefully you’re fine with doing temporary Body Swap. :>

So basically Bakugou and his Male S/O are pro heroes and when out on a mission, they both get hit by a villain who has a swap quirk. Basically, they just swapped bodies. (Y/n is in Bakugou’s body and Bakugou is in Y/n’s body, they basically just switched minds.) They are told by the other pro heroes that the two should go home and take the day off. Unfortunately, nobody knows how long the quirk effect will stay, but they were convinced it was only temporary. So the two go back to their shared apartment and the day goes on pretty normal- besides the fact that, you know, they’ve swapped bodies. Though later Y/n gets a bit of an idea. What if he were to f*ck Bakugou in this body? The thought seemed kinda strange at first since he would literally be f*cking his own body, but he couldn’t deny that the thought was turning him on. Especially wanting to see Bakugou’s reaction. So, he basically handcuffs Bakugou to prevent him from struggling and.. while in the middle of doing it, something happens.. Shit! Why did it have to happen now?? Y/n panics in his head as he realizes they just swapped bodies again, and he is now at the mercy of Bakugou Katsuki himself..

I actually sent a request kinda similar to this to someone else but it was a while ago and they haven’t responded so they may not have liked it, or it just didn’t arrive. And sorry for choosing Bakugou again, you just may be able to figure out who my favorite character is.. Sorry for my rambling.

If you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine. Anyways, have a good day/night, man!

in his shoes (nsfw) bakugou x reader

pronouns: he/him

warnings: body swapping during sex, bottom and top reader+bakugou, selfcest (?), degrading, bratty behavior, claimming and possesive themes, bondage (handcuffs)

a/n: i really like this concept and i will write it don't worry 😎👍 i usually write all of my requests anyways. im also sorry this took literally 5 years.

_____

katsuki bakugou and y/n bakugou. the two of you have been married for 2 years now after you guys started working as heroes. you both went to UA and graduated at the top of the class. neither of you had time for love or romance resulting in neither of you confessing you feelings for each other. gladly, things managed to work out in the end.

"he's on it again, i need the bakugous here right now."

hearing the police force requesting your assistance, you and your husband show up on the case. it turned out to be the villain that the two of you couldn't capture the last time during patrol. 

"HEH?! look y/n, it's this motherfucker again. what's up with this loser, coming back every time it's annoying." 

"play nice now katsuki, let's just go and restrain him and let the police take care of the rest."

the two of you move quickly to match the villain's rapid movements. katsuki flew around using his quirk to attempt to catch him but failed. the villain was surprisingly agile and you guys had a tough time trying to chase him down. 

after around half an hour of chasing you finally cornered the villain on top of a tall building in the middle of the city that was still in construction. the ground was hard to walk on and somewhat unstable but you managed to find your balance. 

"alright, give it up, you've got nowhere to run now. 

"what he said, stop resisting and i won't blow your face off."

the villain's expression turned to fear as you started to close up on him. out of panic, he used his quirk. it was a small beam that didn't hurt at all. however, after a few seconds your body started to heat up, you looked over to katsuki and you could tell he was feeling the same. what was happening?

seeing the two of you struggling, the villain quickly left the scene but he had trouble moving around due to his surroundings. his movements were also somewhat impaired due to fatigue. it was most likely the aftereffect of his quirk which was why he was pretty reluctant in using it. 

the strange feeling in your chest wouldn't go away and your vision started to blur. next thing you know you woke up on top of the same building to see yourself lying next to you. was his quirk duplication? no it couldn't have been. you tried to stand up but felt the weight of some heavy armor dragging you down. you look down to see yourself wearing katsuki's hero costume and his gauntlet. still in awe, you heard a groan in your own voice next to you. 

"shit… wtf happened, y/n where are you where-" 

it didn't take long for your husband to find out what happened. 

the two of you have switched bodies.

you both tried to explain to the police who's who but it only ended in confusion. you went home with your husband after they put the two of you on break for "damaged mental" from the villain because the majority of the police thought you guys were crazy. 

there weren't any cases similar to body switching between heros before so the doctor said there's nothing that can be done other than attempting to wait off the effect. so there you were, in your husband's body, cooking dinner for the man while you saw your own body lazily sitting on the couch with your legs spread open watching the tv. 

life went as normal for the next two days, since you two were both males there weren't any problems whatsoever. however, one day a thought flew into your mind while taking a nap with katsuki. since he was the one who would usually top, now that you're in his body wouldn't it technically mean you get to top? 

physically you would be using your boyfriend's body to fuck yourself. but the thought of the all mighty bakugou katsuki taking his own dick, his bratty attitude, and lastly breaking him and making him fall apart by your touch aroused you in an indescribable way. you knew katsuki wouldn't agree to this due to his prideful personality so you had to take other measures to carry out your plan. 

you and kastuki had all sorts of toys laying around and you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine with them. while he wasn't looking you grabbed the vibrator, handcuffs, and blindfolds and put them all on the nightstand. now that everything is in place, all you have to do is wait to catch katsuki off guard tonight when he gets tired.

later tonight, after finishing dinner, katsuki was yet again sitting casually again on the couch watching tv, not giving a single care to the world. 

"heyy katsuki!"

"hm? yah?" 

"come with me for a second? i want to show you something!" you said with a sly grin on your face

katsuki didn't care enough to talk back, neither did he think this could lead to the ill intentions you had with him tonight. following you into the bedroom, you gestured katsuki to sit down on the bed. he obeyed although he began to have a suspicion of what you're about to do. using your new body, you abused katsuki's strong muscle and speed to restrain your own body with the handcuffs you prepare. there was no way for katuski to fight back in this situation because your body was simply not built enough to resist his. 

"h-huh? what are you doing dumbass…if you're joking s-stop it now, it's not funny." 

"oh i am very serious katsuki, now that i'm inside your body. i am going to fuck your brains out. i'm gonna thrust that bratty attitude of yours right out the window." 

hearing you say that, your husband looked away to avert his eyes while you heard a small gulp coming from his throat. you could tell he was nervous and that's exactly what you wanted. katsuki has never bottomed in his life before and he does plan on doing so either. 

finally having katsuki in your grasp, you decided to carry on with your plan. you put on the blindfold for him as he jolted in surprise. katsuki tried to get out of the handcuffs but later found his attempt futile. these were the toys he used for you too and he out of everyone should know it's impossible to get out of them. once your husband stopped moving you gentlt took off his pants, leaving him exposed wearing only your boxers with an erection under it.

"aww katsuki~ already hard and i haven't even done anything yet, maybe you're better off being the bottom hm?" you teased 

"s-shut up you shit head, just get on with it, whatever evil plan you have in store for tonight…"

"no need to rush katsuki" you said as you entered his asshole with 2 of your fingers, loosening him up for the vibrator. 

"we have the entire night."

you heard your own voice whimper as you explored more with your fingers. soon enough it was time to put the other toy in. your fingers left for a bit preparing the vibrator, leaving bakugou panting from the pleasure and clenching his hole around well, nothing. you turned on the vibrator and katsuki immediately noticed the familiar sound of what's in your hands. 

"o-oi y/n, don't put it in here, i-i won't be able to take it." 

"oh i'm sure you can~ you made me do it plenty of times, why can't the big and strong bakugou katsuki do it?"

without mercy, you put in the vibrator quickly and let the show play out. katsuki was moaning and groaning while you stroked your own cock enjoying the view. katuski's cock was bigger than yours and you weren't used to jacking off such a big dick but it was a nice first.

seeing a wet spot forming on katsuki's underwear, you knew he was ready to go. you took off katsuki's underwear to see the precum leaking from it, so much it looked like he was about to cum any second now. next, you took out the vibrator and started to spread some lube on your cock. you positioned yourself on top of the katsuki and teased his pink hole with your huge cock. 

"what do good boys say katsuki~?" 

"tch! i'm not saying it, y-you sadistic fuck."

you slapped katsuki's ass so loud that the neighbors probably could've heard you.

"i'm the one in control right now, you listen to what i say, understood?"

"f-fine, jesus christ! p-please y/n, put it inside me…" 

"that's a good boy…" 

after you fit ¾ of your cock in katsuki was already panting heavily trying to catch his breath. it reached his prostate you leaned down on his chest to bite on his nipples to make him feel even better. his hole clenched on your hole so tight you were barely able to move your cock around. you continued to make thrusts and sped them up each time. 

during your thrusts you suddenly felt the weird feeling when fighting the villain again. both you and bakugou's body started to burn up but it wasn't as painful as it was last time. next thing you know everything was pitch black. you felt a piece of black cloth on top of your eyes and a familiar size inside your ass. it didn't take you long to realize that you and bakugou finally switched back. 

you were glad to be back in your own body but why did it have to happen now?! out of all the times it could've happened this was no doubt the worst possible timing. you just teased the crap out of bakugou and now that he's in control again he can take his revenge right here, right now.

"oh? would you look at that…our bodies switched back…" you couldn't see katsuki say this but you could already tell the evil smile on his face. 

"k-katsuki i'm sorry, i didn't mean to tease you that hard i was just trying to have some fun y-y'know." you desperately tried to explain. 

"too late now baby boy… bad boys get punished for what they did. now… get ready, for the night of your fucking life." 

regret, nothing but regret. bakugou was already an aggressive person when it comes to sex, now that you pissed him off even more you weren't prepared for what he was about to do to you. 

without warning, katsuki pulled back his hips and thrusted into you harder than ever. you took his entire length right away and the full feeling in your ass was too overwhelming for you to handle. you started to blabber nonsense, unable to form words due to the pleasure. 

"c'mon baby… gotta speak up if you want me to understand you." bakugou said knowing damn well you can't talk back. 

incoherent moans and groans escaped from your mouth as you felt dry orgasms again and again from katsuki reaching your prostate. you were on the verge of passing out till you saw your husband's panting just as hard as you. you could tell he was very close as well. you tried your best to stay conscious and cum with your husbands. 

katsuki let out a loud moan as he cummed inside you. you reached your orgasm too cumming all over yourself. katsuki licked up the cum on your stomach as you slipped into sweet unconsciousness. he gave you a warm smile and patted your head as he took you into his arms and fell asleep with you. 

[iheartchv]

○I dont know if this is the same anon, but im going to answer these 2 asks in this post. Im also sorry for taking long, ive been working 6 days a week and have barely any time for myself on my dayoff○

Ah, i see youre using @turtle-babe83 s prompts c; Hope you dont mine Kass

⚠️ Raph and reader are over 18, alright y'all? by clicking Keep reading, you agree to seeing mature content ⚠️

Midnight Lover ❤💖

You and Raph had been dating a while. It was quite a shock to you when you found out he was also a vampire but you didn't care. Night time was the only time you got to be with him, though. And even though you were tired at times at your job, it was worth it to be with the only one who treated you like you were the most valuable thing in the world, unlike most men you've dated in the past.

Last night, Raph told you he had something to do but he'd make it up to you. He told you to meet him at the abandoned building down 23rd Street at midnight tomorrow night. "Get some sleep," he'd said to you before blending into the shadows.

Now you were waiting for Raph. It was a bit after midnight according to your cell phone. You was starting to get impatient because you couldn't really rest the night before. It was like you were addicted to him; he was always on your mind, and he just made your body go crazy when he was around.

Lost in your thoughts you didn't hear or see the turtle in red. His well muscled arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. "Hope I didnt keep you waiting," he softly said in your ear. Shivers went down your back as you let out a throaty moan.

"Nope, you're right on time."

He nuzzled in the side of your neck, breathing in your scent. Heat bubbled in the very core of your body and spread through your veins. His fangs lightly scrapped across your skin, making you whimper a little and squeeze your thighs together. His hands danced over your body as his lips left kisses behind your ear and all the way down to your already exposed shoulder.

"R-Raph..." you whimpered, already so turned on. You knew he was, too, because his arousal was getting hard, pressing into your lower back. Your vision, as well as your mind, was hazy with desire. You wanted Raphael to take you fast and hard. You noticed that he stayed near your neck where your pulse beat.

"What do you want, y/n, baby?" he teased.

In your lust drunken haze you replied,"Bite me. Make me yours~"

Raph felt his member throb. Oh, god, he wanted to taste you, all of you. Just because he was a vampire didn't mean he didn't have those urges. The only thing that stopped him from humping you like a wild animal before was because he didn't want to hurt you.

"Do you even know what you're saying? I could hurt you..."

"I trust you, Raph. You'd never hurt me. Please... I want it"

The look in your eyes, the flushed color of your cheeks had done him in. He couldn't resist you. He sighed and then said,"Alright. I'm gonna make you feel so good, babygirl."

He snuck his hands under your shirt and cupped your breasts, twirling and pinching your nipples to hard nubs. You would've been embaressed by how you were acting and by the sounds you were making, but you didn't care. You just wanted Raph inside you, claim you as his.

After endless minutes of teasing and foreplay, you were so dripping wet enough for him to slide his tip inside you with ease. "Please~" you begged him near to tears. He sat and laid you down. The cool floor on your back made you gasp. As he spread your legs to get in between them, you saw how big he was, and how there was a pearl of precum on his tip.

He lowly growled at the sight of your sex swollen and glistening, ready for him. He knew you were close plenty of times, and he was too. He didn't know how long he was going to last. He lined himself to your entrance and asked,"Do you know how a turtle takes his mate?"

"Show me" you replied, squirming and wiggling, trying to get the head of his member inside.

He smirked at you and slid the head of his massive cock inside you. You felt him slowly stretching you with each inch. It felt so good. You moaned and rose your hips trying to take all of him. He pushed your hips back down, took the back of your kness, and pushed your legs toward your chest.

"Ohhhhhh, god, Raph~ Mmmmmm"

"Mmmmmm, y/n, feel so good." He gave a thrust forward. A squeal escaped your lips. "So tight and wet." he said in between grunts and groans. "I'm gonna cum so deep, imma paint your insides with my hot cum."

He felt the tip of your cervix and started rocking hard. His hips met yours, and yours met his. Your soft moans turned into screams of pleasure. You screamed his name over and over as he pounded you. Your hands scrambled to grab something as you were drowning in white hot ecstasy.

He used most of lower body weight to hold your legs open and leaned down to your neck. He hot breath and pants fanned over your ear, making you squirm and arch your back with a long desperate moan. "You're gonna drown in my cum when I'm done claiming you, forever." His fangs sank into the beating vein in your neck. The moment your hot blood touched his tongue, his lips sucked and pulled the pouring blood down his throat.

The thrusting of his hips, his cock filling you, and the sharp pain of his bite made your toes curl. Everything was too much. Your climax shook your body hard, and you cried out as you clenched around him, wanting to milk every drop of his cum. His fangs let go of your neck to let out a deep roaring cry of release as rope after rope of hot thick cum filled you.

After coming down from your high for a moment, he asked,"Are you alright?" He was so lost in the ecstasy that he forgot to check in on you. "Yeah," you breathlessly replied.

Raph took you in his arms and lapped at your neck, getting every drop of blood and trying to stop the bleeding. His hand cupped your backside, holding you to him to keep him inside you. You knew you were going to be sore, not be able to walk for a little while. But it was worth it, you thought to your self as you smiled and driftes off to sleep, feeling full and satisfied.

[hhjs]

forget me not.

♡ based on — "During times of war. I want to say: I only love you, And I cling you, Like the peel clings to a pomegranate, Like the tear clings to the eye, Like the knife clings to the wound." and the song nightlife by daydream masi.

♡ summary  —   Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

wherein, putting your heart on the line for the sake of doing favours isn’t a frequent component in your schedule. But what happens when this favour is asked for by the boy you may or may not have fancied for far too long?

 You accept it. 

 For a very embarrassing reason, really, which is — you think Hwang Hyunjin needs you.

♡ pairing— hwang hyunjin x reader

♡ word count— 8.8k whoopsies

♡ genre and alternate universe — angst, fluff + hanahaki au.

♡ author's note— this was supposed to be a drabble and then i sort of lost my fucking mind ehe...also this is easily the worst thing i have ever written im so sorry aaa but this is a lil present from my end hahaha

♡ warnings— suggestive content, vomiting, mention of blood. allusions to depression and heartbreak.

Amongst other things, you're extremely bad at saying 'no'. You don't mean the word per se...but the underlying connotation of this very monosyllable which may come at the expense of letting another person down.

It's sort of stupid, you understand, your friends have constantly voiced their worries for your extremely complacent nature more often than you'd think actually. But it all goes over your head. See — old habits really do die hard.

When you're eight, this very defect takes you to dreadful saxophone lessons your mum spoke so highly of. When you're 15, it gets you called to the principal's office for flashing Jeongin trigonometric functions in Mister Choi's pop quiz, when you're older, things are definitely no different.

The passenger seat is occupied, Hyunjin's holding a tangled muffler to his suede jacket clad chest. At 21, he's become someone you used to know. A friend of a friend, Felix's to be very specific. But the man in question, who was supposed to be his ride, passes off this duty for kegstands and you just happen to be the designated driver for the night, shuffling Jisung beside Changbin and Chan, who claims to be 'sober' even though he's half asleep.

Hyunjin is uncharacteristically quiet.

There's a polite smile on rendered your way as your eyes meet. A small curvature along his plump bottom lip, tighter around the edges. Still this simple formality is so beautiful that you feel something inside you come alive.

When Jisung starts snoring, you flip on the radio and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here comes on.

Your fingers feel numb when they come to tap out a rhythm to the track. It's nice. Tingling guitar riffs swelling, David Gilmour's gruffy voice pours in from faulty speakers. The more the song progresses, the more you find yourself attempting to think about anything that will distract you from the boy beside you, in the flesh no less.

So late at night, the main road is eerily silent. Cobblestones reflecting the sound of tires thumping against its layout, streetlights blinking at you from their drooping heads. Across the street, a baker is tucking away leftover bread and buskers are packing up their beat up guitars, a man in his late 50's pulling his blanket to his nose as he rests a head full of gray hair on the cold pavement.

You glance at Hyunjin from the corner of your eye and find that his staggering smile has completely disappeared. Now there's a distant glaze in his eyes. It's like he's here, in this moment, with you, but at the same time, he's somewhere else.

Under the impression you've done something wrong, you immediately begin to panic. But the thing is, you don't actually know if you should ask. Would it constitute as crossing a line if you had anyway?

Hyunjin covers his mouth with a sleeve, muffled retching building beyond fabric.

The reasonable assumption is obvious. It's not abnormal to be nauseous when you've got one too many drinks in you. He motions for you to pull over, incoherent sentences practically melding together, words forming and dissipating between choking fits.

You scramble to dig out a bottle of mineral water you habitually deposit in the glove compartment, offering him the tissue first. Ears perking up in satisfaction when a garbled thanks escapes his parted lips. But then... something weird happens.

As your eyes flicker to unintentionally glance at the contents discarded on the pitch grey sidewalk, you freeze in your seat.

You were never a big believer of superstition, not someone who buys into myths only meant for the fiction genre. Sure, you can be gullible sometimes...but what's happening falls no way under the realistic category.

The lethal Hanahaki disease, only inherited by some unlucky descendants, every moment in your head prior to this one, was something that's obviously non existent.

Yet... there's so much blood, too much blood attesting to your blatant ignorance. The petals are of a white rose, smudging together in swirls of grotesque crimson in mimicry of a sheen of red sticking to the inner corners of his lips. It has happened before, you can tell, from just how unsurprised he looks.

Hyunjin's stare flits to commit every detail of your to memory, in what only seems a quick study of gauging your forthcoming reaction, though even before you can produce a coherent thought, he says,

"You can't tell anyone." His voice drops a few octaves as though he's afraid your snoring friends in the back might've noticed. "Please."

Hyunjin's face softens by the slightest, contrary to his firm demand, there lies a desperation you couldn't overlook.

In retrospect, what you're about to tell is ultimately a promise that'd come back to bite you in due time. However, see now, you're extremely bad at saying no. Somehow you're even worse when it comes to Hyunjin. So you blink, turn the radio off and say,

"Okay."

—

The pool is preheated. For that you're most thankful.

Frankly, you couldn't imagine what it'd be like being pushed into a chilly body of water mid winter. Not that it's pleasant otherwise, you can't swim.

Well at 15, you hadn't quite learned to. The other kids have scurried inside to hog freshly baked Snowman biscuits Seungmin's mum is renowned for.

Then and you think you'll never quite forget it, Hyunjin's wearing an orange power ranger t shirt, it's darker now that it's wet, his glasses are marked with uneven splatters. His face scrunches up at the sudden splash of wetness engulfing his body. He wasn't planning to get in the water.

"Hold on tight." He says, wounding your arms around his neck, your calves tighter to his sides to support your shivering body. Back then Hyunjin's hair was black, cropped short and swept to the side, he smells like fabric softener and skittles. A water donut is discarded in the middle of the pool.

Everybody you know and don't know, from the birth of superheroes stuck in comic books to valiant protagonists behind fuzzy television screens, has this inherent desire to be saved. From the world, from themselves. No, no, it doesn't have to be a grand gesture, swooping them off of their feet from the grasp of surly men in dark alleys, sometimes it's really just simple. Sometimes people save you in the most ordinary way there is.

The weight of your form on his bright pink water donut while he stood on his toes to merely rest his elbows so the item wouldn't flip, a small act, certified this very claim, had not the nimble touch of his cold fingers, brushing away wet hair from your face, to anxiously ask if you're okay met the purpose. He talks to you like the sound of his voice has the power to injure you.

You nod slowly. Like this, it feels like you're going to be.

Hyunjin pouts, looking perfectly unconvinced. He paddles the pair of you to steel stairs spiraling into the pool, so he can stand without just his nose peeking out of the water, he looks at you once again, a wrinkle between his dark, arched eyebrows and says solemnly, "Jisung's such an idiot sometimes, isn’t he?"

But isn't he your friend? You want to ask. Something stops you though —his tone tells you you aren't the only one to fall victim to Jisung's practical jokes. Not that they were offensive or anything. Han Jisung, the same person who twiddles his thumbs when he wants the last chicken nugget and cries every time you watch Howl's Moving Castle together, genuinely doesn't mean any harm. It's just that...when he's comfortable with people, who aren't many, he tends to do a lot of dumb things. Dumb, endearing things that Minho will kill him for someday.

"A little bit," You mumble under your breath. Heat rising to your face at the possibility of Hyunjin being concerned for you. He sounds almost angry. "Thanks by the way."

It's rather pitiful to remember. Because with time, Hyunjin's world becomes so big that your interaction stands to be too insignificant to not forget. Before you know it, he's the shooting guard of your school's basketball team, just a handsome face who dates better girls, makes better friends. It's superficial and a little sad.

No, no, a little sad is an understatement actually.

To see someone you understood intimately, a boy who always described details too much just to stray from the main story, a boy with too many emotions bubbling to an awfully animated surface; someone who was passionate, sensitive and so nauseatingly big hearted...change into a man who is indubitably untouchable...is tragic. At least.

Yet funnily enough — you can't quite imagine a world without Hwang Hyunjin. His ringing laughter rippling through loud ambiences, his distant humming of Christmas carols whilst he absently skimmed through spines of children's novels and his eyes glimmering in adoration whenever he spoke of something he loved — Without him, you imagine, there would be a massive deficiency in your world, in the world. Like if birthday cakes came with the biggest slice carved out.

Hyunjin grins, a big sort of candid grin that turns his eyes into upturned crescents. His previous temperament long forgotten. Suddenly, this utterly atrocious happening seems to not be so bad. Suddenly you don't mind that Jisung is an idiot sometimes.

"Of course."

—

Hyunjin is not perfect. Hyunjin is no prince charming.

People don't know this. They don't understand this.

He ends up paying for dinner when he's out with a big crowd even though they were supposed to split the bill, he ends up crying when he gets angry and he is an abysmal liar, in every sense of the phrase. Hardly ever succeeding to hide his emotions when he should. When he was a kid his parents reminded him that it's a good thing to be unapologetically himself, that being honest is a good thing.

But as your eyes meet from across an ocean of people quagmired by crunchy leaves, sticky remnants of rain and his ex girlfriend who he now claims to be okay with being friends with, on her toes to poke his cheek whilst Chan's arm wraps around her waist, the soft white roses ornamented on a bow she loves wearing all the time, he thinks it's far from an agreeable trait to have.

Actually whilst you balance a newspaper under your arm and bring your coffee to your lips, it's like you're looking through him, past his skin, his flesh, something secret inscribed on his bones, embedded into his soul. You know everything, you know everything, you know everything.

The thought itself... surprisingly enough, doesn't appal him.

Hyunjin raises his palm in the air, feeling the autumn prickling against his skin. He waves at you.

—

Working at a library can be taxing. But it sure has its perks.

You can just about turn the place upside down and put it all back together without getting in trouble. Albeit another reason, besides your profession could be that Minho owns the place. Frankly, he may or may not have been the only cause behind your employment. It's hard to tell now that your co-workers really do recognise you've a knack for arranging things.

But to you, your job is very personal. A precious thing which relieves you from various worldly tensions. Velvety spines under your roughened fingertips, the burst of minted pages hitting your face every time you walk in, your love for reading, for a world of stories is so immense that you think you wouldn't have traded it even if your life depended on it.

For a disease that's not very well known, it's ironic how an entire section of mythology is dedicated to it. Past closing hours, amongst many novels mounted on your desk, you fixate on the one that made most sense. There's a few things you've picked up in common from all of them though — the hanahaki disease is extremely rare, it doesn't affect all those who suffer from the qualms of unrequited love.

Possible remedy according to findings entail

growths can be surgically removed, if the patient consents to eradication of memories of their loved ones.

Clanking of keys alerts incoming and you pause your tapping pen to look up.

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?"

Minho leans against the doorframe, he's half yawning, half talking and fully concerned for you.

"Yeah, looks like I'm gonna be a while." Your monotonous tone provides that you are not paying a lot of attention. You blurt without looking up. "Are you leaving?"

"No, still haven't finished archiving for that Pfizer project...But I'm going to get a bite to eat..." His inky eyes remain on you as his tone falters, "You want anything?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Wow you're like...really uh invested." He tilts his head in thought, "You seeing someone again?"

You know Minho long enough to know he has a teasing side to him, from diaper days to play dates ending in pillow fights because he kept offering you his last Pringle just to pop it into his stupid smirking mouth — but you have no idea where he's going with this.

So you look up, finally. Furrowing your brows.

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs, "I haven't seen you concentrate so hard since you dumped Jeongin."

Your right eye twitches. Because you know exactly what he's referring to, and simultaneously, for the sake of your well-being, you much prefer being in denial. "What?"

"C'mon. Remember how you always ended up doing his homework?" He reminds you. "It's like when you like someone, you go out of your way to do charitable stuff for them. But...this? Too much. Even for you."

You ignore Minho's comment. To the world, Hwang Hyunjin's place in your life is not significant. After all this is the most natural undulation in the vicissitudes of life — for someone who once was your friend to eventually drift apart, to become a has been. It's too hard to explain why you care. After all this time.

"I was just being nice." You narrow your eyes, unimpressed. "Clearly this concept is lost on some people."

"Sure you are, bud. If being 'nice' is synonymous with whipped." Of course, there's a smug grin gracing his pouted lips that tempts you to fling something at him. Not that you can though. Seeing as Minho breaks out into a full fledged sprint, his singsongy voice a thinning echo bouncing off of shelves and windows and doors.

Still somehow his footsteps manage to travel through walls, permeating into your office with such great amplitude that you could be bamboozled into thinking he hasn't left at all. Or maybe you've stopped paying attention, your eyes zoom in on any other helpful detail you can put to use in wrapping your head around what you have witnessed firsthand.

At the same time, you can't really ignore how hungry you're feeling just from the mention of a bite to eat. So when Minho's shadow forms again on the page you've been 'reading' for the last few seconds you sense a gigantic wave of relief washing over you.

"You know what I changed my—" slamming the book shut, you blink against scanty provision of light, with raise your head and a bleary vision, recognise him in an instant. Except...it isn't Minho. "mind..."

The only source of brightness is a small emerald lamp perched on the corner of your desk, light green catches onto one of the ornamented corners and speckles of golden caress his supple skin gently. You hadn't realised how cold it might've been outside until you see how heavily dressed Hyunjin was, a long overcoat worn over woollen sweater, a Santa hat and muffler pulled to his chin. It's no one other than your boss himself who has given him directions to your office, you know this, Hyunjin has never been inside before.

So when he marvels absently, you sense yourself feeling a little self conscious about not cleaning up. All around you, a comforter and love seat pushed against the window, cigarette butts discarded in ashtray and then...the books strewn before you tell him you practically live here.

For some reason, Hyunjin only seems to loosen up at the spectacle.

"Hi." He says finally.

"Hi..." you arrange the reading materials quickly to one side so you can rest your elbows. A small (successful) attempt made to hide your research. "Something up?" You say, but what you really mean is, what are you doing here?!

Did he suspect you were going to tell on him? Right that's it, that must be it, you tell yourself, believing, knowing, of all the years Hwang Hyunjin has known of you he has never been one to care about your whereabouts.

"I just...um," He starts, forwarding his mitten clad hands. It's the back of a crumpled coffee cup on which straight handwriting reads a bucket list...of sorts. You immediately understand that his coming is an act of impulse. Urgency of living every moment like it's slipping through it's fingers, that he just needed to tell the only person who knows, be it by accident.

Hyunjin clears his throat. "I wanna do all this before I die."

In lieu of giving an instant response, baffled, you gawp at him. Despite knowing, hearing Hyunjin say it out loud somehow makes everything...too real.

It's as though someone's reached inside your throat, pulled your heart out and crushed it with their bare hands. Hyunjin, the boy who smelled like fabric softener and skittles and wore power ranger shirts, the boy with the fantastic smile and cold fingers, is dying. You won't let him. You can't let him.

You thumb along the numbers scribbled in hasty penmanship, look up and blink rapidly, "Okay," you say, a small whisper, barely there words. "That's okay."

Even with the hat covering tips of ears, you could tell the same faint blush coating his cheeks had rushed to that particular area. His eyes drift off to the sight of pens discarded inside a wooden holder because he can feel your gaze on him. "and I...I need your help."

"Alright."

Hyunjin's eyes widen to a great degree, he sits straighter, as if he hadn't expected you to comply so quickly.

And honestly? Neither had you.

It's quiet. Awkward.

"You know it's not like I haven't thought about dying. I just figured I'd get to grow old first, settle down, have kids and all that," A wry laugh escapes his parted lips. "Everything's happening too fast."

You hesitate, thinking he's making a mistake. Frankly he shouldn't feel obligated to give you an explanation.

"You...you don't have to tell me."

"No—I mean...can I?" He gives you a sheepish look, disliking his own whimsical tone, somehow endearing still. You find yourself wondering how long he had to keep his burdens to himself, not just pertaining to his illness, but everything. His dreams, his hopes, his fears. Anything which requires a certain amount of depth. And you almost ask him, the question sitting at the tip of your tongue, yet the realisation rather simple, stops you. Maybe you've mistranslated 21 year old Hyunjin all along — moulding himself into someone who's convenient around people who only liked him for who he appeared to be, maybe even with all that popularity, parties and glamour, he's just...lonely.

You push your reading glasses into your hair, press your knuckles under your chin and hum in consent.

He shifts in his seat, "Have you ever... been in love?"

You release an amused huff. Let your eyes linger on him for a long minute.

"Once."

Hyunjin half expects you to laugh. Poke fun at him for his melodramatic backstory. That's the sole reason why he doesn't tell his friends (funny, for people he considers close, they seem to know not much about him or care to know, that is. ). But you... you look at him with something in your eyes that tells him the rubbish reasons he posited makes all the sense in the world. Hyunjin's unsure of the tingle in his gut, why it's happening. But he thinks, just for a second, it feels a little like hope.

—

 Midnight rendezvous.

As someone who has lived a fairly extraordinary life, Hwang Hyunjin's bucket list is bafflingly ordinary. He's more of a finding joy in small things kind of a person, punctilious at best.

Things change. People notice. They hesitate, whisper about you and last night while you were out on last minute cheap wine run, the grocerer, a girl who looks around sixteen asks you if you're dating Hyunjin. Underneath the thinly veiled curiousity, there's something like anger dripping from her words.

You furrow your eyebrows in simple insinuation that it's weird for a stranger to take interest in your life. Maybe it was written on your face, the fact that you're a dying man's beck and call is for reasons far more complicated than it looks.

You go to his parties. Greet him as a friend would and not just for the sake of maintaining formalities. He comes to the library more times than he does, waits for you to get off work so you can check something off the list at least. People notice. People understand. Hyunjin's different around you. He's bright, talkative when he forgets to contain himself. You sense your heart swelling with pride just at the understanding that he can be himself around you.

You drive to the beach, sit in your trunk and drink straight out of the bottle.

Hyunjin laughs a little. Suspends his feet in the air. With time, he's gotten paler, exhausted. "Rough day?"

You hum.

"Very. Our children's collection is usually low in stock around the weekends."

Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest. Curious.

"And?"

"And if I say I got yelled at by a toddler would you believe me?"

Hyunjin feigns contemplation, even with the realisation that his body is becoming less and less cooperative, he manages to remain perfectly cheerful.

"I can actually," he grins, "At that age, I was a real pain in the ass."

"Were?"

Your smile is just a slight curl against the bottle's mouth as he grumbles under his breath about your 'insensitive' remark.

You think of your life after Hyunjin, think of his absence like a gaping hole you'll never be able to fill out. It makes you sick to your stomach.

—

Bake something from scratch.

Hyunjin's face twists in apparent thought, eyebrows rising. A pink tongue poked against his cheek, whilst he chews carefully, trying really hard not to flash an accidental reaction whilst you clasp your butter and oat flour soiled hands together, some of the batter on your cheek, neck to anticipate his answer like your will to live depends on it.

You ask yourself how it got to this. Why you didn't care that you were awake so early on a Sunday morning with flour powdering every kitchen appliance in sight in spite of being awfully restrictive about who you let into your kitchen. But it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter because it's nice like this.

Hyunjin has his hair pulled away from his bare face, a mole under his eye, a small birthmark on the back of his ear.

When you first met, you thought he was a kind of handsome that couldn't be real. Something formidable about it. Only destined to exist behind fuzzy television screens and flashy magazines.

But in retrospect, you realise, that that's not true at all. 

If you look close enough, if you really pay attention, there's a softness underneath, something goofy, something warm, the sharp jut of his nose circling into a soft button, his eyes are big, black and his mouth jutted out into a natural pout, he looks innocent, like he doesn't quite realise the extent of his charms.

"It's..." His soft voice pulls you out of your reverie, and you look up to find his eyes glimmering jovially. Every time it surprises you, the lack of regret in them and the abundance of nonchalance. You wonder what it means to love someone like that, to love someone to the point of martyrdom. It shouldn't be like this. "perfect,"

"This is like, the only batch we didn't burn, right?"

You snort, "Yeah." Fully turn to him, "You know what they say, fifth time's the charm."

Hyunjin's laugh, you think, is so contagious that it makes it an imperative to smile in return. In shaky compartments the sound comes, like being 8, laying wide-eyed in a paddling pool and staring up at a crayon blue sky, raindrop rippling beyond all that noiseless water. His eyes curve to upturned crescents, an unconscious hand covering up the seams of his lips whilst he shakes his head. You don't even notice when he starts speaking again.

"Huh?"

"I said you got a little...something..."

You almost lose a fraction of your sanity when his nimble fingers come to wrap around your wrist while you hold onto the spatula employed into the whole snickerdoodle batter mixing business, a liberated hand coming up to gently wipe your cheek. It means everything to you. And nothing to him.

Later, when you're alone at night, really alone, you put your palm to your chest and feel the unsteady beat of your heart. A warning, a reminder. I can't. I can't. I can't.

—

You hold Hyunjin's hair up. His hands resting on the cold toilet seat, he's whimpering and bleeding. It happens every time he sees Haseul, or something which reminds him of her. Like the song.

This time she's drunk. And it's because she impulsively rises to her toes and presses a tender kiss to Chan's lips.

Hyunjin's just a feet away, across students and solo cups and streaks of neon falling irregularly through his line of sight.

He can never confess, not to her. The last thing Hyunjin wants is for her to feel bad for him. To say she feels the same as an act of service. He tells you. You understand. Somehow... you always understand.

They met in college, Hyunjin and she. And Chan was an upperclassman who seemed to be good at...well everything. At first, he couldn't figure out why it never occured to him before, the fact they were getting together maybe before, after or during the length of their relationship.

Though the answer is simple.

Hyunjin thinks the pillar to good relationships is trust. Call him a sappy romantic or whatever but he had seen true love manifest from it through generations before him and his parents and their parents. To think a different fate was woven for him...used to be unimaginable.

How ironic is that?

Hyunjin presses his cheek against your chest because he doesn't want you to look at him when he cries.

Then for the first time....he tells you he's scared. He's scared of what will happen to him. Of what is happening to him.

He's falling apart.

You cradle him, press him closer to your body like you're trying to put him together. People can't fix each other. Not really. But sometimes... they're worth the try.

"Hey...hey...it's alright," You shush him, run your fingers through his hair. Your voice almost breaking, faltering. Still this, this you mean it with every fibre of your being. "It's okay to be scared."

—

Self bleach hair.

It's Christmas and you're late for a late night dinner he's putting together. (As reluctant as he was about getting along with Hyunjin, he seems all too eager to make invite him whenever a get together takes effect.)

His apartment smells like floor cleaner. There's a queen sized bed pushed against an electric blue wall, a Fleetwood Mac poster taped to his door, small reading desk where Canon EOS New Kiss rests, polaroids of things checked off the list littered all its wooden surface.

You pick up the only photo he hasn't labelled, it reminds you that your friendship isn't just based off a pursuit. This is natural. Pizza box discarded between you two, on your roof top. It's a little too dark, you're holding a cigarette between your fingers, you're laughing and Hyunjin looks like he's going to complain the minute he's done taking the picture. (And he does.)

You smile, pressing your fingers against it like the touch could transport you to a simpler time.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin rakes a tentative hand through his newly dyed hair, grey (a suitable colour he says.). You can tell he's put a lot of effort into cleaning up, his usual hoodies and sweats alternated with a red satin shirt tucked into dark dress pants and a coat of the same colour.  Hyunjin is beautiful. Perhaps even more like this. In fact, the extent of this quality is so Goliath-like that it obliges dolled up attendees to marvel up in awe.  While you fully agree with their unsaid ponderings, you really do, you find yourself missing a less sophisticated version of him. 

"Yeah, but first..." you fish out a wrapped squarish material from the depths of your pocket. Hyunjin's eyes widen, two bunny-like teeth showing for the extent of his grin.

"You got me a present!" He all but rips it out of your hand, shaking the material eagerly. He’s a Christmas person, a supreme holiday enthusiast if you will. The sheer excitement in him projects itself in every physical aspect possible. Slight jumping on the balls of his feet. "It's a cassette...?"

You speak too much, nervous he doesn't like it. "It’s a Christmas mix. I thought...since you like carols. I know it's a little old school, I'm sorry if that’s not what you were hoping for—"

Hyunjin pulls you into a big hug, wrapping his entire body it feels like; his arms around your waist, he squeezes you tighter against him, "Thank you." He whispers into your hair, it's not just about the cassette, you can tell. 

There's a small light bulb dangling from his ceiling, he hasn't fixed it since the first time you pointed it out. You can tell with your eyes closed, you've begun to know more intimately than your own home. It's safe here. A place that deludes you into thinking that he's not running out of time, that even in his absence in the world, whenever you should walk into this room, it would be an imperative to find Hyunjin lazying about in its confines. Familiarity can be quite tricky, can't it?

His gratitude is not unknown to you. It's in the guilty smile that threatens to show every now and then, it's in this and it's in that. In many ways, it is not something you're a stranger to.

And yet the words manage to tears your heart at the seams. Just a little.

—

 Make a snow angel.

From above, he imagines, he may appear to look like a chunk of cookie dough in an ice cream pint.

The snow is not as comfortable as it appears, its frigid temperature seeps into Hyunjin's clothes (and what feels like his internal organs, if that's even possible). He waves his hands and legs inward, outward.

Your head tilts towards him. Face twisted in annoyance. "You're getting on my wing!" You say. "Have you no respect for personal space?!"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes jovially. And people tell him he's the one with a penchant for theatrics. He leans closer in rebuttal, waving his leg around your design with more purpose.  You give up. Sit on your knees, fumble with the snow. He’s still in the same position. Smug as ever...

"This is what happens when you disrespect your elders." He fake-warns. "Oka—"

What he doesn't anticipate, however, is the snowball you launch on his stupid grinning face. Now it's your turn to laugh. You clutch your stomach and point at him whilst he glares at you having barely managed to blow the snow off of his mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!"

You let out an animalistic screech, Hyunjin’s already trapped you under his weight, his thighs wound around your waist, hamstringing your plan to escape, now you're merely squirming. His fingers come down to attack your sides, digging into the flesh so mercilessly to the point you’re not sure if you’re laughing or crying. It's like there's a wildfire inside your lungs.

For a moment you forget, you let yourself forget what's to come.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry!” you press your palms against his chest in an attempt to push him off, Hyunjin has a dumb smile on his face that seems to give the impression of a hanger�� stuck inside his mouth. But... there's something behind his entertainment as the sound of his laugh dies down, chest heaving with exercise. His smile drops.

You can count each lash, each freckle and line on his face. The dark in his eyes. The pink of his lips. Your sweater's ridden to your ribs. And the warmth of his fingers shifting against your bare skin hits you with an earthshattering force.

Hyunjin kisses you. For a fleeting second, you freeze. Rigid with shock. Then it passes as soon as it comes.

 You let out a noise of content,indubitably grateful that your neighbours forgot to put on their porch light for the night.  See it’s like this, the act of kissing is not as special as is the person himself, you muse, you can kiss anyone, you can touch and be touched by anyone. But none of that truly compares to this. Not when they aren't him.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about it. Just like you’ve thought about a lot of things. But just the realisation that the boy you’ve harboured in your heart for more complicated reasons than you disclose, to yourself even, touches you with so, so much care...it’s tearing you apart. 

It’s too good to be real.

You suddenly push him away. The tugging and pulling at your heart too much to handle. For the fact remains — Hyunjin doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. You never expected him to. Actually, you've never felt what you feel with that condition in mind either.

See when the feeling of having everything you could ever want is cradled between your palms...it ought to be hard to let go. (Maybe he’s just doing this because he feels bad for you, the little voice in your head says. You listen.)

Hyunjin speaks up first.

“I love Haseul.”  he tells you, but it sounds more like he’s telling himself. “That’s why...that’s why, all this...I love her.” Not you.

You swallow, “I know.” Your hands come up to dust your pants. Hyunjin’s still on his knees, as if the answer to his conflicts are deposited under all the snow. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have done—”

Now you hear it, the hint of pity in his voice. You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do. Seeing as you’re usually very good at keeping calm , breaking that very reputed front frustrates you even more.

“Look just forget about it, okay? We don’t have to talk about this.”

Hyunjin looks like he didn’t expect this side of you to exist. At least, you think, at least it got him to stop talking.

—

Learn to skate.

"If I fall, I'm taking you with me."

"You say it like I have a choice."

Hyunjin shoots you a warning glare even though you can't see. His choppy skidding steps supported by the vice grip he has on your arms. You haven't skated since you were in highschool. But when you're pretty good at it still, the smooth blade of your beaten skates gliding through ice with much dexterity, it's like floating, freeing, the wind hitting your faces, snow catching in your lashes. It's peaceful, you try not to think about the warmth of Hyunjin's arm circling around body, the vague rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His laboured breaths on your neck. It's torturous. But spending so much time with him has taught you to hide your feelings better.

The park welcomes a large crowd around holiday season, children with toothless grins, tugging onto their mum's coats, small chin resting onto a parents' head, teenagers moving in together in school uniforms. It's the happiest time of the year. When you move past an elderly couple, they smile and tell you make a wonderful couple.

You're just about to make a correction. This puts you in an awkward position... doesn't it?

But then Hyunjin grins toothily and says, Thank you, like it's the most amusing thing in the world. You ignore the wrenching inside your chest.

Hyunjin leans forward, his plump lips brushing against your ear. "Where did you learn to skate so well?!" There's something like excitement in his kiddish laugh aside from admiration. It's not much of a question as it is an exclamation.

"I am pretty good, aren't I?"

He laughs, doesn't let you go. "Yes, yes...really good."

Out of breath, you slow down, move your feet steadily, careful not to lose balance.

"Oh my God! It is you!"

You raise your head, blink against flakes hindering your vision. Jeongin's voice used to be thinner before. As far as you remember. Now it has a weight to it.

You let out a nervous laugh.

"And it's you..."

Jeongin's eyes travel to the arms around your waist, to the stiffened figure behind you and you immediately liberate yourself. Moving to let Hyunjin use your arm as purchase, you don't fail to notice the pinch in his forehead, a frown on his mouth.

"This is my friend Hyunjin. Hyunjin, this is Jeongin—"

"We used to go out." Jeongin smiles, forwarding his hand, which is returned with an unenthused shake and a demure reply. Hyunjin never speaks to anyone this way, not even people he claims to hate.

The former male looks to you again, "I was, uh... wondering if you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Things between you and him ended amicably at the event of his departure for further studies, which deprives you of awkward tension which is expected when exes meet.

Besides, a cup of coffee never hurt anyone.

Right?

Without thinking, you nod slowly, "Yeah that sounds good,"

"Text me anytime."

"Sure."

 “I'll be out of your hair then," he beams. "It was very nice meeting you too, Hyunjin."

"Right."

Hyunjin, you realise, has released your arm. He leans on barricades fencing along the skating area, smiling briefly. You know it’s wrong...yet you sense that you almost need him to be upset.

Then he tilts his head back towards you, "He seems like a really nice guy," he whispers, genuinely meaning every word. Your heart sinks. "I see the appeal." Underneath the lurid glare of fairy lights brandished overhead, Hyunjin's ash hair glints like it's threaded out of silver. You wonder what he's thinking.

—

 Watch every Disney movie ever made.

You never end up texting Jeongin back. Just stalling for when you're ready, you tell yourself. Even though that's not true at all.

"This brings back so many memories. My parents used to belt out A Whole New World with me, like every time we watched Aladdin."

Hyunjin wipes his face with the back of his hand, technically you’re not very sure what he’s saying exactly because he’s mumbling into a paper napkin you've  passed over for the umpteenth time. You find yourself picturing a small but happy family of three, of Hyunjin in Scooby Doo pajamas and gap between his teeth. (Contrary to your previous convictions, he hasn't changed all at much, save for the teeth bit. ) It's cute.

He looks to you expectantly. Can't be the only one telling embarrassing stories.

You shrug, "I had a thing for Simba. Let's just say my mum and dad were nice enough to indulge me."

Hyunjin reaches for the remote and pauses the ending credits of Lady and the Tramp. He turns to you fully now, gives you a judgemental stare. "Simba...?" He says, "Like the...lion?"

"What? It's normal to crush on fictional characters, okay?!"

"Okay,sure," Hyunjin snorts, putting a pillow between you and him so you can't kill him. "furry."

A part of you is tempted, obviously. But the much bigger part is more invested in how he looks happier, healthier. You want to think that means something.

—

Hyunjin invites you over for movie night. It's getting colder and you keep poking him with your cold feet. There's an extra set of blankets in his cupboard, he informs you, he isn't sharing his with you — and that's when you see it.

The deflated pink donut folded to the side, his and yours sharpie inscribed initials on one side. 

"Found it yet?"

You don't even notice when he comes to stand behind you. So the question effectively makes you jump out of your skin. Hyunjin has a bowl of popcorn pressed to his chest, there's a pink hair band holding his hair away from his forehead. For the lack of a answer he takes it on himself to find the source of your silence. As if you've been caught red handed.

You think this is where he'll ask you to leave, that or he'll least scold you or something. You prepare for the worst.

Hyunjin just smiles, it's a big smile that succeeds in bringing out the small dimple indented on the side of his cheek. You've never noticed before. It's kinda weird. Because when it comes to him, your attention hardly ever falters.

"You probably don't remember. That’s from Seungmin's 15th birthday,"

You want to scoff under your breath. All this time you had told yourself that you were the only one to be affected by your estranged friendship growing up. Now...the same logic colours you every bit of ridiculous. 

You blink away, swallowing. Voice solemn.

"I remember." Hyunjin's gaze is heavy on your shoulders. An emotion you can't quite put a finger on crosses his delicate features. It's something between surprise and relief... something else too. You don’t understand it. 

—

It's disconcerting that he can’t remember the last time he got sick. Not the usual discomfort inside his chest, not the blood, not the thorns or petals. Hyunjin's just gotten so used to it, you know? What if he gets his hopes up for no good reason? What if it just comes back?

There's no possible explanation, he explains over a hasty 3 A.M message he had to leave on your answering machine because he's freaking out.

Then Haseul texts Hyunjin, tells him she misses him. Everything's adding up. Everything's falling into place. This is what he wanted, isn't it? She loves him, she finally loves him back. That must be it. He doesn't know what to say. 

But he tells you, and when he does, it sounds a lot like an apology.

— 

Kiss underneath a mistletoe. 

“Chan and I broke up.” She says it like it’s something he should be happy about. So when he remains quiet, it only prompts her to speak more, fill up the big mighty silences. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Look Jinnie, I know I made a mistake, but...can’t you give a second chance? Just this once?”

Hyunjin has thought about this particular moment a lot. Kissing her instead of producing a response, pulling her off of her feet and mumbling of course, of course, of course. Back then, there were little doubts in his head pertaining to her, back then he believed that she was the only one for him. The love of his life at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Now...something doesn’t feel right. 

The thing about wounds, sometimes, of the heart in particular, is when they close up, it’s hard to make head or tails of the kind of person you become in their wake. Hard to adjust. Like when he suddenly shot up 7 inches in ninth grade, a late bloomer at that, and the weight of his new sneakers felt..odd.

He glances at her and also understands what it’s like to be lonely, the constant need to compensate for it by grasping at the last straw. He used to be in her shoes too. This isn’t any different.  Albeit, he isn’t exactly taken by her presence. Just that he doesn’t know if what he’s doing is right. He looks over your table a few feet away from where he’s standing. Having gone out to take a call. You notice his absence and then from your seat, do your best to locate him. (he thinks of kissing you on a bed of snow, thinks of the sizzle of your skates against ice, thinks of his list on a coffee cup and his pink water donut and it’s okay to be scared. Why did it have to be you of all people, through everything? It’s not really a work of coincidence. Not at all actually.

  Maybe he just wanted it to be you.)

When your eyes do lock...seeing him with his hands in his pockets, her standing beyond the barrier as she tries to say something, you smile, even if it’s a little sad. Hyunjin thinks to the conversation some nights before. Thinks of you reminding him that there's nothing to lose at this point, that he should do what his heart tells him. That it’ll be alright, if he just takes a leap of faith. Hyunjin smiles back. Through the glassy exterior and mini water fountains running down its slanted form. The realisation is not as dramatic as he thought. It’s just late.

 He tears off the false mistletoe decoration glued along the periphery of an arch.

And like always.

He takes your advice.

— 

Cohorts of guests pour into the colossal hotel, heads turning in quiet admiration for bejeweled arches breaking out against buttery white architecture, the roof is impossibly naked, translucent glass baring a starlit sky to your watchful eyes. Showing little mercy to a frail chute held over your head,costumed characters wade through oceans of gossamer, twinkling silver and swaying movements to slow jazz. You prop a heeled foot up on the bar platform, which strangely resembles a pedestal, in a futile attempt to catch your breath, with clammy digits settled atop the risky surface of a marbled counter. A soft voice speaks over the ambience, uttering your name with much care. You lift your head. And there he is.

Jisung is scouring through the Spotify playlist you’ve put together for New Year’s Eve. He’s complaining about the lack of Beyoncé while your friends go around the buffet table. When he calls you, you’re sipping your drink, laughing at something Changbin is saying, his eyes brighten just at the sound of your laugh.  Hyunjin isn’t surprised to see his friend taking a liking of you even though he hardly knows you. That’s just the effect you have on people.

Excusing yourself, you allow him to walk you to a less densely populated area where a stone pillar faces expensive paintings of nameless painters. With the effect of alcohol settling in and your inhibitions effectively lowered, your steps sway a little. You lean against the massive build rising from tiled floor. “So what’s up?” you murmur, the lump in your throat thickening just at the thought of him speaking the good news into existence. “I take it went well?”

 Hyunjin doesn't answer. He looks distracted for a bit. Then in an instant he snaps out of his daze. “What did you mean when you said ‘once’?”

Your brows come together in inquiry.

“What?”

"When I asked you if you have ever been in love, you said ‘once’." He persists, his fingers come up to your shoulder, grazing slightly as if they’re trying to carve out words against the skin. "You weren’t talking about Jeongin.”

He knows. He’s always known. Hyunjin can’t believe he’s been so stupid.

“Took you long enough.” You let out a sardonic laugh.“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

"It matters to me..." Hyunjin sounds offended, you gather, but he manages to quell his temper for the sake of coaxing your confession. Is he purposely embarrassing you?  "I don’t think...I love Haseul anymore...I didn’t realise...I haven’t for a long time."  

A big chandelier beams over withering plants pushed against the ceiling, in this poor supply of light, you can tell exactly how he looks, eyes glimmering adoringly, you've spent something-teen years of your life wondering what it's supposed to mean. And it still manages to confuse you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask, albeit you already know.  Because funnily enough, before he got his braces removed and dyed his hair a scandalous blonde, before bucket lists and heartbreak, he was just the boy who told you he liked your stupid reindeer sweater even though it had officially made you the 7th grade laughing stock. You remember being fifteen and in love with Hyunjin. And you've never actually stopped. You need to hear it to believe it.

It drives you crazy. The way Hyunjin brushes his fingers against your cheek, shifting strands away from your eyes. But you can't help it, you've always wanted this. You lean into the caress, peering up at him as his large hand cups your jaw, thumb traversing from your tilted chin to your glossy lips like he's trying to smooth out all the creases. His voice is small, a whisper.

"Because I need you to know I think I’m falling in love with you.” he says. His palm opens and there’s a plastic mistletoe nestled between his fingers. You’re smiling and sniffling whilst his forehead comes to press against yours. Hyunjin grins. “And there’s still one last item on my list.”

“Are you seriously asking me to land one on you now?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

— 

"Move."

You press your fingers against the slick, sweaty skin.

In rebuttal, Hyunjin grumbles under his breath. Only half awake, half aware that he was mumbling in his sleep. His naked chest seems to be, if it’s even possible, glued to your bare front as he sprawls out like a starfish over your body, using his gangly arms to accommodate the strange position.

Though and you know he knows it too — it’s anything but uncomfortable.

See by now, you aren't exactly a stranger to Hyunjin's sleeping habits. Or really, any habits of his.

All the windows are cracked open, moonlight percolating through a thin sheet of curtains in rendering evidence that it’s still night time. You can make out the faint sound of  honking in the distance, a few stray dogs here and there, probably producing strings of complaints about the blatantly unbearable heat.

The strong stench of sweat and an aftermath of what happened before is a quick reminder of where you are, what you’re doing and that your arm’s going cold for a lack of circulation under his weight. Beads of sweat collected against his skin and trickle down the side of your face, the crook of your neck, which only prompts you to apply more force to the pads of your index and pointer — albeit it did nothing to move him, "Gross." You groan. "You're sweating like a pig!"

This comment, of all the things you've tried to get him to sleep on his side, succeeds in making Hyunjin raise his head, his grey hair matted down, a few rogue strands pushed out to fall over the unamused look in his eyes.

In an unprecedented minute of absolute clarity, something inside your stomach started to churn at the shocking sight. You’re impossibly, absolutely and nauseatingly in love with Hwang Hyunjin and the funny thing is, you don’t have to think twice to know he is too.

"Gross?" Hyunjin lowers his face to brush his pouted lips along your jaw, grinning when you let out a shaky but involuntary breath and as if he is looking to make a point with his digits traversing from your bare stomach, just along the hem of your underwear,   "After all that?"

"I hate you." You say — but more like, stutter. The sound of his giggles eliciting a strange sensation in you, reverberating against your chest, knocking against his ribs and your skin, like it’s trying to reach out to you, like your bodies insist on melding into one.

"I don’t think you’re being honest, baby." He laughs, squeezing your side, coming up to plant a warm palm to your butt to repeat the action, which in turn, drew a mewl from you. “Because you looove me.” Hyunjin smirks, his finger thumbing along your throat to your chin. You think this is what all those great poets meant in endless litanies of lovers torn apart by time and war woven together in a simple caress, like a longing, like a secret. Guarded from prying eyes, greedy hands, and you keep it, you keep it. For him. With him.

[x-woozi]

An Unwise Interest

Part 10

Previous || M. List || Next

Summary: Of course you love your brother but he can be a bit overly concerned and involved in your personal life. Things only get worse when you find yourself having a little more than “friendly” feelings for one of his best friends.

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long to post life’s been a bit much lately but it’s here now! Ta-da! Love interest revealed, and surprise surprise it’s Jihoon. Im sure you saw it coming but I hope you still enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Balloons are great and all but the set up and cleaning up is a pain, especially for what you have planned. Luckily you’ll only have to worry about one of those.

Deciding to not be completely mean you planned to fill the majority of the balloons with the confetti first and only a few with glitter. You set everything out side by side on Seungcheols bedroom floor. “Okay I’ve got the balloons and confetti but where did I put- Ah the glitter!” You said aloud to yourself with an evil-like grin as you imagine the look on your brother's face when he gets home.

Rather than waiting for Jihoon to get back, you started without him knowing he’d be against taking any part in it and would have to do some convincing. You tried your best to funnel the tiny pieces of paper into as many balloons as you could before inflating them.

Rather than waiting for Jihoon to get back, you started without him knowing he’d be against taking any part in it and would have to do some convincing. You tried your best to funnel the tiny pieces of paper into as many balloons as you could before inflating them.

Once it was time to blow them up you realize where you went wrong. There’s no pump, no helium tank, nothing. You thought to yourself, this is that stupid pre-prank karma isn’t it. All you could do now was pray your lungs make it through.

10 balloons in and there are many regrets going through your mind. Tying the ends is starting to hurt your fingers, bring rubber bands or ribbon next time. Starting to feel a little lightheaded having to blow them up. Gotta remember to get a pump for these things! Some of the confetti keeps slipping out and getting in your mouth. Why does this feel so dan-

There was a loud thud that came from the other room interrupting your thoughts and making you inhale sharply with a balloon still at your lips. Going hand in hand with your last thought the timing was great because now you’re choking and there’s an intruder. Trying your best not to completely panic when you hear footsteps rushing towards you loudly coughing, you look around the room and realize you have nothing to defend yourself with. what a great way to go.

“Are you okay?!?!” Jihoon yelled as he barged into the room, “what happened!”

If you could this is where you would’ve let out a sigh of relief, but no, still choking on paper.

He practically leapt to your side and aggressively patted your back trying to help, which it did a little. When you caught your breath you quickly faced him, “what the hell, who just comes home and immediately starts slamming doors and shit?? I could have died because of you!”

“Are you being serious?” Jihoon stared at you in disbelief, “first off you’re in my home”

“It’s also my brothers.” You stated as a weak argument against him

“Still not yours. And second that wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t doing all of this” he motioned to the mess you’ve made on the floor. “So who’s really at fault here?”

“wow just blame the victim I guess” You folded your arms “I never took you for that type, I’m disappointed Ji”

His jaw dropped, “the v- you?? You're joking right? You’re the victim?” Scoffing at your claim “right and I’m in the nba”

A small laugh fell from your lips before you could catch it, you cleared your throat to hide it “anyways, were you going to help me with this or not?”

“Would I have brought these if I wasn’t?” He held up two plastic balloon pumps “I had a feeling you didn’t have one, and of course. I was right”

You rolled your eyes “yeah alright well let’s get to pumping, I’m tired of almost dying doing it the old fashioned way.”

Sitting on the floor across from you and grabbed a balloon to start with, “no one told you to take it this far, so that's on you” he shrugged

He wasn’t wrong, you were the one that wanted to do all this but it was going to be worth it in the end. At least you hoped it would be. Of course seeing his initial reaction to seeing it all would be fantastic but after that there's no telling what he’ll do.

As you both sat there with balloons starting to pile around you, you started to think about what your real plans for after college were. “Hey Ji, can I ask you a question?”

“Was that not it?” You squint your eyes back at him and he sighed, “go ahead”

“How did you know to decide on being a music major? Like I know you’re really good at all of it but how do you know that’s what you want to do forever?”

He kept his eyes on the balloon in his hand “Because it’s my outlet, my contribution to the world. It doesn’t reach many people as of right now but for those that it does reach it makes them feel something that only music can. Music is like the medicine everyone needs at some point. It makes me feel good to help people in that way and I want to be able to reach and help as many people as possible.” You had watched the way his smile grew as he spoke about his passion but quickly fell as a pink showed over his cheeks when he looked back up to see you watching his expressions.

There was a sudden pop and with that rubber and confetti was everywhere. You jumped slightly at the noise, “oh no!” You giggled “well that’s one less for him to worry about later”

“At least it wasn’t one with glitter in it” he added while dusting the pieces off of his shirt.

“Very true, that stuff never comes off” you agreed “hang on you got some in your hair”

You leaned over to pick off the few pieces that made it up there before realizing he was reaching to get those same pieces. Though instead of the paper it was your hand he grabbed.

(Que the cheesy kdrama music: Duu dudu duu dudu duu)

Your face immediately burned red as you felt a small panic rush over you. “Sorry I just-“ You laughed lightly as you pulled your hand back, “you know what, I could use a snack break” you stood up and raced to the kitchen. Oh god why am I like this? It wasn't even bad! You thought to yourself pretending to look through the cabinets. Did I make it more awkward running in here like that? Shit.

In an attempt to make it better you decided to make both of you a pb&j, but also as a thank you for helping you finish even if there wasn’t much to do. “Grape or strawberry?” You yelled with your head basically still in the fridge. There was no answer “Ji!”

“Strawberry” his response surprised you with him being much closer than you thought. He had joined you in the kitchen and was grabbing the bread from the counter behind you.

“How did you know what I was going to make?” He looked at you with a straight face. You rolled your eyes and took the bread from his hands. “Maybe I was going to use crackers, make mini pb&js.” You finished up and set them on plates at the table across from each other.

He followed behind you, sliding a glass of water to you before taking his seat. It was silent as you both sat there eating before Jihoon spoke up, “so I’m going to guess that you’re still struggling to pick your major.”

“Says who?”

“Not even 10 minutes ago you were asking how I picked mine.” He pointed out as he picked up his sandwich.

“Well what if I just wanted to get to know you better, make small talk you know?” Trying to defend yourself.

“Okay so then what did you decide on?” He questioned.

“I haven’t.” You responded sounding defeated “what if I do pick and then change my mind then I would have wasted so much time and money for nothing”

He rolled his eyes, taking another bite. “Just don’t think of it like that, think of it as broadening your horizons, explore your options. What do you enjoy doing?”

“Being with my friends? I don’t know”

“Fine, what are you good at?” He waited for an answer as you just stared back with a blank face. “Seriously? How about a planner like for parties and stuff?”

“Me? Plan things? I can’t do that” you laughed at the thought of it.

Completely at a loss for words he gets up and motions for you to follow. You do while bringing what’s left of your sandwich. He led you straight back to your brother's doorway and stood with his arms crossed. “Did you not plan this?”

“This is different. It’s a prank, not a party” you tried explaining, “this is something simple. But we should hurry and finish because he should be home soon.”

He rolled his eyes at you trying to change the subject, “yeah alright but at least think about it. It doesn’t hurt to explore all your options.” he sat on the floor and picked up another balloon. “Especially when you have no idea what you’re doing with your life.”

You scoffed and tossed a handful of deflated balloons at him “I’m sorry, is that judgement I hear?” he looked up at you with raised brows. “At least I’m trying to have fun and enjoy my life instead of staying locked away in my room.”

“I do not stay locked in my room.” He tried defending himself

“Oh my bad, locked away in the studio.” you correct yourself.

He then threw some balloons your way, “I go out and do things. I can have fun and enjoy life”

You took that as a challenge and picked up some confetti and held it in your fist, “you sure about that?”

“Y/n, what are you doing?” he put a hand up as a barrier questioning you.

“What? Are you scared?” you pulled your arm back preparing for launch.

“I just can't tell what you're throwing at me.”

“Let's find out then” as soon as you threw the paper he reached for the glitter and was ready to throw some back. “Wait wait!” you tried reaching to stop him but it was too late, it was everywhere. He was bent over with laughter as you sat there covered in glitter glaring at him. You picked up another container and sprinkled it over him, letting it fall everywhere.

His laughing slowed as he froze when he saw sparkles coming from him. He let out a short laugh before quickly grabbing your arm to keep you from dropping anymore on him. “Really?” Your first thought was to grab it with your other hand, but as you did that he caught you with a smirk

You tried pulling away but with his grip it only forced you to scoot closer to him. There was now a warmth growing on your face as you stared back at him trying to think of your next move to get out.

The smirk still on his face “now what? Are you done?”

Something dropped at the doorway forcing you to both turn to see your brother standing with his bags at his feet “what the hell is going on in here!!”

Suddenly your hands we’re free and you rushed to your feet. “Wait cheol-“

“Out of all the people and all the places! You two?! IN MY ROOM?!!!” He started towards Jihoon.

Moving yourself between them “wait wait it’s not what it looks like I swear!!”

Jihoon was up and backing away slowly “you know me.. we friends.. roomies.. just take a breath”

“Y/n go home I’ll talk to you later. You.” He point at Ji “we need to talk now.”

You grabbed your bag and basically ran out the door. it’s fine it’ll be fine I’ll check on them later. After I’m far away and he’s cooled off.

Obviously you felt bad for leaving the situation like that but what else could you do? Seungcheol was a little scary when he’s mad.

[wincore]

vixen | nakamoto yuta

pairing: kitsune!yuta x female!reader

words: 5.1k 

summary: every year, you visit the fox who claims to know everything about you. 

genre: fantasy/folklore, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: suggestive, mention of past bullying, one excessively flirty nakamoto yuta

song rec(s): clear and sunny - sou (cover)

a/n: this is for all you furries who aren’t quite furries yet muah (im joking) but aaaa love exploring folklore and also i should put in a disclaimer that not every aspect adheres to the original tales of the kitsune <3 i did not proofread btw and i am very sorry

Some things never change.

Examples: boys, shitty friends, death, and the scent of nostalgia. To you, that very scent happens to be the earthy smell of chrysanthemums and a faint waft of spices from the kitchen in your parents’ house. To you, October is not just another month. To you, there is one more thing that never changes and it is not your belief in old ghost stories. 

Around this time of the year, the autumn festival begins in a flurry of vibrant red smudges and a whiff of excitement, in streets suddenly brought alive. The skies are candied orange, and it’s the only time you aren’t tired of home. This time is also when you find yourself right in the clutches of the one demon you swore you’d avoid for the rest of your life. You swore. It’s not your fault that said demon is a little, let’s say, tempting. 

Tempting in the most vexing, infuriating way possible. Bewitching, cruel, seducing—all that foxes are and all that you’ve heard of them could not have prepared you for an encounter. Folklore runs deep through you. The memories of a certain fox-boy run deeper. 

It is not the festival you are here for. 

You yawn, leaning against the wooden door frame of the shop. It would be inappropriate to fall asleep on the job, especially since there are a bunch of children staring idly at you. You close your mouth quickly, resting the back of your hand against your lips. Late afternoon is an easy time to fall asleep. You have half the mind to snarl at the kids to scare them off, their gaze getting on your nerves and when you think you will, you turn the other way. Manners come first to you, no matter how temperamental you get. 

The procession has gathered a crowd. Some shouts and squeals from the children make you slump further. At least they’re having fun with whatever stupid game they’re playing. You breathe in the autumn air. A part of you wonders if you simply let your feet lead you down the stairs, you’d be free of this entire ordeal. You shake your head. Temptation has always been hard to resist—never meant to be resisted but you’re much older now. There is dignity to be answered.

October is mild—your grandmother’s shop is still on the verge of collapse, your mother still yells at you for misplacing kitchen utensils and your old friends from school still gossip about who you’re dating. It’s like the script never changes; people change the meaning, twist their words in the same old pattern. If you were a little less behaved, you would have poured your drink over their heads yesterday. 

You clench your jaw. It’s always an ‘Oh, you’re so attractive�� and an ‘I wish I could date as many men as you do but I’m loyal to my boyfriend’, or even a ‘Must be nice being surrounded by boys all the time’. You know what they mean. It’s not the first time you’ve been called a fox, and you don’t think it’ll be the last—at least until you decide to stop letting your hometown suffocate you. Maybe you’ll accept what they say. You have heard of what hatred left unchecked can do.

If you’re honest, you haven’t been with too many men. If you’re a little more honest, none of them have ever made your heart race.

You watch the children play with a keen eye, their painted masks ridiculously large for their faces and in brightly coloured clothes contrasting well with the town. You might not be allowed to fall asleep, but there’s nothing against closing your eyes for a second or two.

The image of glinting yellow eyes and a fanged smile pop up and you quickly open your eyes. You don’t know why your heart beats so loud at the mere thought of him, thoughts in which his lips are full and painted red, and his bright smile is stretched upon them. Sometimes, the thought of him is in gentle washes, his hand fixing your hair, or a flirty smile when you dare stumble upon him on a particularly sleepless night. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. That is not love. Some sort of embarrassing attraction, maybe. However, the friendship you have is worse.

“I see you’re a slacker as always.”

Your grandmother’s voice breaks you out of your cycle of thoughts and you’re almost grateful.

“I sold approximately zero sweets,” you snort. “Why can’t we just do away with the shop?”

“You’re starting to sound like your mother,” your grandma calls from behind one of the counters, distaste ringing clear in her voice. 

You sigh. “Fine, but… you work way too hard to make these for them to not sell.”

“Maybe they would sell if a certain little lady would stay and help.”

You groan, leaning your head back. “You know I have work in the city.”

Your grandmother waves her hand about, dismissing your reasoning. She fiddles around in the shadows for a bit before coming forward with more boxes than she should be able to hold.

“You don’t have to feel too guilty. Yuta’s been helping out,” your grandmother informs fondly. “You could learn a thing or two from him.”

You’re not the superstitious sort and yet still, your heart beats faster. For him, or for the bad omens foxes bring to a household—you don’t know.

You scoff instead. “He’s not as great a guy as you think, grandma. He can be really mean too!”

“Oh, I doubt that. Have you seen his smile? Impossible.” Your grandmother waves it off before drawing nearer, voice hushed without reason. “Have you thought about it then? He is handsome, isn’t he?”

“Grandma.”

You’re not sure what old women go through in their youth that makes them something of a matchmaker in their later years. You think the whole ordeal is messed up. There is no way you’re going to stick your nose into your grandchildren’s love life; it’s gross.

“These should be enough for the children, no?” Your grandmother asks and you look up.

“You’re giving them away for free?” you question, furrowing your eyebrows. “And you talk about bad business.”

She places her hand on her hip, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re going to lecture your grandmother?”

You raise your hands up in defeat, standing up to help her with the red boxes of acorn candy and paper wraps of roasted chestnuts. You end up with the entire load in your arms, your grandmother happily shuffling about as she locks up the store.

You turn sharply at the surprised sound behind you. The evening has settled in and glowing lanterns bring forward the evidence, the darkening streets flooding with round droplets of light.

But it is not the festival you are looking at.

Yuta looks somewhat serene, your cheeks heating up despite yourself. You look at him with bated breath, hoping the boxes obscure your face enough to make the vaguely positive emotions less evident. The dark red jacket draped over his shoulder does not look out of place—in fact, he fits in so well you would’ve mistaken him for another face in the crowd if he weren’t stupidly gorgeous. He looks at you with no strong emotion in the eyes before breaking into a smile; and when his hand strokes the top of your head as a greeting, he seems fond. He always does.

“Grandma,” he calls with his best smile, turning to the old woman.

Your grandmother doesn’t need any more convincing of his character. 

“Oh, there you are! Did I tell you (name)’s back? I wanted to break the news to you earlier. Ah…I must have forgotten.”

You glance from Yuta to her. Is this another one of her tricks and tests?

“She’s always here this time of the year,” he responds, laughing politely.

“Ah, you remembered,” she says, eyes crescent as she smiles back. “Help her with the boxes. The city has made her so frail.”

“I’m good,” you choke on the words, hurriedly moving away and almost dropping one of the boxes.

You slip on your sandals and scurry off faster, wishing he’d just stay behind. He always has. The air makes you shiver but you’re adamant; and it’s not the only trait of yours to make relationships fail.

“You know, you should be nicer to old friends.”

You try not to react when Yuta takes the boxes from you, matching your pace almost effortlessly.

“I thought foxes ran away once they’re found out,” you snap, reluctantly letting him take the packages.

Yuta rolls his eyes. “I see you still aren’t very fond of me.”

“Not when you’re tricking my grandmother like this,” you hiss.

“You call helping trickery?” he retaliates.

“Foxes bring bad business,” you mutter.

“I’m the reason your grandmother’s business is somewhat above the water.”

You sigh, exasperated. There’s no point in wasting your breath. You look away, crossing your arms as you walk, the silence between the two of you suddenly awkward. Even so, you’re not going to open your mouth for him.

“Would you two slow down?” your grandmother calls, voice weary. “We’re already there.”

The two of you halt in your tracks immediately, taking mellow steps back to her. She looks over the two of you with furrowed eyebrows and you try to think of an explanation when she starts laughing.

“Oh, I don’t mind the two of you flirting,” she says, littered with slow laughter. “Just make sure the food is where it’s supposed to be.”

You’re about to refute when Yuta laughs, the sound still boyish and lively. “Of course. (name) missed me so much this year, she couldn’t help herself.”

You give him a pointed look which he ignores, deliberately or not. “We- I wasn’t—”

“Grandmother, if you’ll give us permission,” he interrupts, settling the packages on the table by the food stall and smiling wide. “We’ll go enjoy the festival now.”

She bobs her head in affirmation and Yuta grabs your hand to pull you into the bustling street, your silent plea for help ignored by your smug grandmother.

“What are you doing?” you ask, slipping your hand from his. “You aren’t- You aren’t trying to eat my liver, are you?”

“Why the liver? Can’t I have the rest of you too?”

It’s not like you were particularly alarmed but his response makes you feel a flush of embarrassment.

“It’s been a year since I last saw you,” he says before his voice turns a shade cooler. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

You fall silent. The overthinking started last year too. Your thoughts and dreams, so easily pervaded by him and all it took was one sentence. 

“We should get married.”

“Why did you even think I’d agree to that?” You try not to get too flustered. He knows all your petty weaknesses and you’d rather not have them on display for him to stare and pick at. “What the fuck would I get out of marrying you?”

Yuta whistles. “I like your tongue. But—yes, to answer your question, you’d get a very handsome and capable husband. Your bed will always be warm and oh, speaking of beds—”

You clamp your hand over his mouth at the suggestive look he sends, worried about being spotted by one of your school friends. Ah, right—friends, the very same people that smell of jealousy and won’t miss any opportunity to throw a jab your way. Friends. You can’t believe you’re still afraid of their judgement.

“And why do you want to get married to me?” you ask, looking into his eyes.

There’s a pause, filled with the chatter of the crowd.

“You look like you’re afraid of finding someone,” he speaks finally, ignoring your question. “Or is it the other way around?”

You roll your eyes, ready to walk off when he grabs your wrist to pull you closer to his chest. It draws some looks from nearby people, your eyes darting from face to face in fear. You take a deep breath and look at Yuta again, almond eyes distracting. 

“People will think we’re lovers,” you whisper, almost a hiss.

“What’s wrong with that?”

You breathe out in disbelief. “You’re really something.”

“What? Why did you always come to meet me then? Behind the keyaki tree?”

“It wasn’t for you,” you lie quickly. “I had nothing better to do.”

Pining after a fox? You could never have feelings for him. Even so, your answer comes off childish and silly, and somehow he’s the only one to be able to draw that side of you—the you that is messy and unprepared.

Yuta smiles in return. “You think people can’t fall in love with us the same way they fall in love with most everything.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

“How conservative of you,” he leaves with an airy remark, but not before urging you to follow him.

The sizzling sound of food being fried and the knocking, clicking sound of children playing games, all these forgotten sounds grow louder and for a second, if only you let yourself, you could close your eyes and it would be just like your first date. 

No. It’s different. You look up, eyes trailing over Yuta’s back, his golden hair, how his figure moves with ease and confidence.

It is different.

You raise an eyebrow at the box of takoyaki Yuta shoves towards you, an expecting look across his face.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice.

You hum in response, taking the box from him and saving yourself the trouble of asking whether he paid for it or simply charmed his way through. 

“Eh, no thank you?” he complains. “How polite.”

You scrunch your nose to accompany an exaggerated smile and he laughs, the two of wandering over the asphalt streets. Your hands are close enough to brush—and if a twenty-something year-old woman can feel jittery because of it, hands truly are meant to share warmth. The smell of candy and caramel fills the air, making you smile. You’ve saved enough for the taste of home, you think. 

The taste of home. 

Inevitably, the thought of kissing your companion crosses your mind and you stop in your tracks. Whatever. It must be natural when someone as attractive is beside you. Those aren’t feelings. You curse yourself for feeling like a teenager again.

The festival grounds aren’t as shabby as you expect them to be. The city,—if you could call this one—stops here and the earth spreads out to the forest behind. The crowd also thins, and you take a fresh breath. They’re selling old books in the corner, but no one seems to be there.

“The raccoon dogs,” Yuta whispers in your ear, with an arcane smile. “Want to visit those rascals?”

You roll your eyes. He knows you’ve heard one too many folktales for a lifetime, seen one too many. It’s time to go home, especially now that the thought of thanking him crosses your mind. You’re about to turn when your shoulder crashes into someone else’s. A surprised, syrupy smile greets you, which you cannot return for the first few moments. Yui’s smile wavers and you flash her a quick smile. A friend. Her arm is looped through her lover’s, the one she never shuts up about and suddenly the urge to pour water over her head returns.

Yuta glances from you to her before pressing his lips together, as if suppressing laughter. You’re almost offended when Yui laughs flippantly.

“You’re on a date too? I knew you couldn’t stand spending the festival alone,” she says, tugging her lover closer. 

People have always told you who you are and what you do. As if they know better.

You smile awkwardly. “It’s… actually not—”

“Oh, don’t be shy.” She gently pats your shoulder before leaning in. “He’s a real catch. As expected from you. You can never leave the boys alone.”

You know what she really means. You’ve heard the same words in high school when she was shoving you into a wall behind the school. The sickening smile is still on her face.

You gulp, feeling sixteen again. The lack of people around somehow makes it more awkward and you’re about to excuse yourself when suddenly, Yuta bumps into Yui and his warm drink spills over her left shoulder. Your eyes widen, more in confusion. When did he leave? You don’t doubt his ability to sneak past people, but surely you couldn’t have been so enraptured in your own feelings that you barely noticed.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuta says, voice honeyed with surprise.

Yui looks like she’s about to explode when she looks at him, her expression dropping to a calmer one almost immediately.

It’s an easy look to recognize. They always have it when they first meet Yuta, whether it’s the smile that’s too dazzling or the pretty round eyes. 

How persuasive, those eyes.

“Ah… I must have not seen you,” she says faintly, and Yuta’s smile widens.

Before he can stir up more trouble, you slip your arm into his and pull him away, not caring for another polite apology to an old, almost nameless face.

“I was having fun,” Yuta complains, voice still smug and calm.

You glare at him and it only seems to add fuel to the fire, to whatever cold fire dances at his fingertips. 

“You’re happy, right? Don’t look at me like that. You should reward me.”

You don’t respond, looking away and hoping to get at least a word in about how troublesome he is every single time you visit. Yuta has other plans, however. Leaning his head to look you in the eye, he maintains a distance which looks perfectly decent but feels less than so.

“How about a kiss? I deserve one, don’t I?” He moves his head closer to yours, making you shy away.

You grab him by the belt and pretend to not catch a glimpse of the pleased look on his face as you drag him into a secluded part by the forest.

It’s quieter here, so much that you can almost hear your own heart drumming in your chest, and the faint light of the distant festival grounds doesn’t help much at all. It’s dark as dusk, and you can only make out Yuta’s jawline and a faint smirk over his lips. You think that if a fox ever wanted to eat your liver, this would be the perfect spot.

“You did something,” you finally utter the words. “You did something to me.”

“Why do you think I did something? Do you mean love?” he responds with a cheeky smile. “This means you’ve been thinking about me? How cute—”

“Yuta, stop it,” you warn. 

“Or what? You should stop me yourself.”

You grab the lapels of his jacket, the cloth bunching as your knuckles turn white. The anger you feel isn’t the first of its kind—it’s just a little funny how it’s always Yuta every time, making you remember the burning feeling time and time again. You find yourself unable to respond. 

“Oh, don’t hold back,” he provokes, leaning in.

You push at his chest in exasperation, but he grabs your wrists before you can retract your hands.

“Scared?” he whispers.

You pull apart anyway, a scowl over your lips. “You’re as annoying as ever. Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Ooh! Sharp claws. You’d be lovely as my fox-bride.” he teases. 

Your face flares with heat. “I’m not your… I’m not a fox.”

“I didn’t say a fox, I said—”

“I know what you said,” you snap, massaging your wrist so you don’t have to look at him.

Yuta falls quiet for a moment, voice lower when he speaks again.

“Is it so nasty to be called a fox? There are worse things, you know.”

You scoff, growing increasingly annoyed. “Of course you’d say that. I hate it. I hate this town. I hate foxes and I hate you.”

Yuta places a hand over his chest, gasping with no emotion. Your eyes linger over his long, painted nails a little longer before you meet his eyes. A part of you regrets saying the words but you couldn’t help it. The shroud choking your hometown makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs every time you’re here. You hate this place.

But you don’t hate him, after all. 

You try to clear yourself of the thought. A gentle gust of wind brings you back to the present, Yuta still glancing at you with no giveaway to what he’s feeling.

“You wouldn’t make a terrible fox though,” he says, eyes sharp. “Don’t they know you’re a vixen already? How many livers will you eat?”

You suck in a breath, tears stinging at your eyes. However, it’s not like you to get so easily affected by him. No. No, somehow that doesn’t make sense either. Those words do hurt from Yuta and you’re not sure if it’s just because he's the only one you didn’t expect them from.

“You…”

“What? Aren’t you going to lash at me again? You’re so predictable.”

His voice is calm despite your obvious annoyance and you feel flames lick at your heart. Your hand moves before you can think, about to meet his cheek when he grabs your wrist. You struggle, trying to pull free but to no avail and you use the other hand to hit him in the chest. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t bother him and that same feline smile curves up his lips.

You feel something you haven’t before, a warm growl at the pit of your stomach.

You push with all your strength, catching Yuta off guard and he stumbles backward but not before pulling you into him. Consequently, either of you lose footing and land on the grass with a sudden thud, Yuta’s side pressed against yours. His hands still clutch your wrist, and he shifts to hover over you.

“We used to wrestle like this as a litter,” he says, erupting into full laughter. “Ah, memories. I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead now.”

Yuta is much stronger than he looks, and he’s taken your tantrum as a source of amusement much to your infuriation. He has your hands pinned back, eyes unaffected as he scans over your face. You try to shift but there’s just too much weight on you. You breathe slowly, chest rising and falling in time with his. His earrings sway gently in the wind, dangling a few inches above you—he’s pretty, so pretty. Admitting defeat has never been your forte but now that your senses are gathering again, you feel a flush of embarrassment for losing your temper. 

Or perhaps, it is something else when you register the lack of distance between your noses.

“Playtime’s over,” Yuta coos. “You’re kinda cute when you’re losing.”

He tilts his head, an adoring smile over his lips. For a moment, they’re all you see.

Can a fox comfort you? Can a fox make you feel loved on the darkest of nights? Your mind races with questions your heart does not want to answer. 

Yuta leans in to close the distance and despite every nerve in your body, you turn your head away. You can hear him gulp, the following moments painfully quiet before he gets up. Your breath is soft and shallow, lying on the ground till you get enough courage to sit up. 

You almost gasp. His tails are clearer under the dim moonlight, all nine of them golden and luxurious. The light hitting his face isn’t any less flattering and once again you are reminded of how handsome he is, fairytale or not. 

Yuta looks uncomfortable, and that’s a first for you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know why.

He waves his hand dismissively, annoyed.

“Yuta,” you take a step forward.

“I see the way you look at me,” he says quietly, “Is it not want?”

You fall silent, biting your lip so you don’t retort violently. He doesn’t look particularly malicious when he says that but you do not want to give him the satisfaction of an answer yet.

He quietens for a moment before a look of curiosity flashes across his features.

“What is it then?” he asks. “Is it a secret? Foxes love secrets. Tell me.”

Despite every bone in your body burning up, you find it in yourself to laugh.

“I don’t think I could keep a secret from you if I tried,” you finally say, before bursting into soft laughter again.

Yuta looks at you puzzled, lips parted while he stands frozen as if he were a painting. A daunting, reckless, heavenly painting.

“It’s not want,” you answer quietly. “It’s more than that. Even if I hated it. I like you.”

Yuta’s ears perk up at your confession. “So- so you admit, then? You are interested?”

“I could blame you for this, you know?” You shrug, hugging yourself once the night starts to feel cold again. Yuta begins to take off his jacket when you stop him, gently pressing your palm against his chest. 

“You’re a fox, after all,” you whisper. “Like me. What they think of me.”

Yuta purses his lips. “Does it really hurt you? No, wait. Did they- did they—”

“Now, you tell me,” you cut him off. “Why do you insist on getting married—to me?”

There’s a pause. The crickets chirp a merry tune despite the leisurely darkness of the night.

“You’re not terrible,” he says, nonchalantly.

You glare at him and he raises his hands in defeat. He looks wearier the more you look at him.

“I want to grow old,” he mumbles after a long pause. “Properly.”

You hold your breath.

“And you want to do it with me?”

Another flower blooms in your chest, as if he hasn’t planted a garden in there already. The lights from the festival flicker down, the lanterns burning brighter in the distance. He glances at them for a moment, your eyes still fixated on him. 

The tails glow even brighter in the dark, as if gold in broad daylight. You’ve always been curious about him and his kind, all the stories; but he says he’s too old to remember if you ask.

You reach out to touch one of the tails, wondering if the fur is as warm as it looks. They’re pale and captivating, but they look so soft—they shouldn’t belong to an animal so vicious. Is he, though? Is he all that you think he is or have all these years failed you? If anything, he’s quite probably not as much a fox as you are, you think bitterly.

The fur is warm, but the realization is short-lived.

A short growl leaves the corner of his mouth. Yuta glares at you like he was stolen from and yet, you do not move your hand. Some part of you wants to aggravate him further.

“I’m not a pet,” he snaps. “Stop that.”

“You should stop me yourself,” you mimic his voice.

Yuta’s shoulders relax, and he looks down but you can still see the trembling smile on his face. It’s the way he looks at you, you think to yourself, maybe that's the reason after all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, feeling warmer than the autumn night should allow.

“Like what?” he asks, still smiling.

You look away. 

“You’re not too fox-like, you know?” you mumble. “You’re just annoying. And flirty. And annoying.”

Yuta chuckles, before pressing his palm to the top of your head. 

“And you’re lovely.”

You give in to the gesture of affection, leaning your head to press against his shoulder.

“Why do you even do all this? What do you get out of it?” you say, voice muffled. He hears you clearly, however.

“Because I love you,” he responds, as if coming to terms with it himself. “More than you think.”

There is no joke, no flirtation to his tone, no decoration upon his words. It’s plain, and laid bare. And sometimes, simplicity is scariest. 

You pull back, lips pulled into a frown. The air is cold once more; the longing for warmth flowing into you. The silence is worse.

“You don't believe foxes can fall in love,” he states softly upon a wavering smile. “I knew that. Of course.”

A part of him believes it too.

“I…” you begin, and for the first time, you are afraid of promises in the name of love. You are the one making them now.

“I’ll believe you,” you whisper, “I’ll believe you so please… please take care of me.”

You place your palm against his cheek, his skin bewitchingly warm. 

“Only if you take care of me,” he whispers back, leaning in.

This time, you do not move.

The lovers’ kiss you’d been searching for—lovers’ warmth, lovers’ comfort—all of it comes crashing down once Yuta tightens his arm around your waist, the other hand resting gently at the base of your neck. He kisses with the right amount of pressure, the vague taste of sweet berries in his mouth.

You used to fear his touch, like he would eat you whole; even if they have been gentle, always. This time, you might as well let him. He presses his lips from your cheek to jaw to neck, lingering at each spot enough to make you clutch at his shirt tighter, taking in short gasps of breath. You kiss for a little longer, like time means nothing.

“We should go back,” you whisper, pulling apart.

Yuta kisses you again, the distance unacceptable. 

“Yuta—”

He kisses you once more, your calls falling on deaf ears.

Finally, after another long kiss, he pulls apart enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“It must have been hard for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you scoff.

“Foxes are faithful lovers, you know?” he insists.

You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“It means I’ll follow you everywhere.”

He stands up straight, his thumb stroking your cheek as he bites back a smile.

“I don’t think we should get back tonight,” he suggests all of a sudden. “We could book a hotel. That’s the place you use these days, right? I’m sure your grandmother will understand your absence—”

You groan, resting your forehead against his shoulder and he presents a delighted laugh in return. It is warm by his side; he is warm. You find it easy to forget the failures in love, the loneliness of a lover that isn’t meant to be yours. Folktales are just long tales, after all. You smile to yourself. 

You should’ve known—it was the fox all along. 

[tacticaldiary]

Hi! Can I request a scenario where the reader gets into an accident after a fight with any of the karasuno boys? Idk but im just in the mood for some regret and angst

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Have fun! :) @nachotrash

My Fault

Pairing: Reader x Sugawara Koushi

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Arguments and accidents often go hand in hand, as the pair learn quickly. 

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“Maybe I’ll just leave then!” Y/N exclaim angrily.

This was the third time this week Sugawara had blown her off to go hand out with his friends and Y/N was sick of it. She was sick of getting ready and feeling excited, only to be crushed 10 minutes before they had to meet. She had waved his apologies off the first two times but now? She’s had enough of this. 

They had been having a go at each other for a good half hour now, their voices escalating from soft explanations to frustrated yells.

“Don’t be dramatic, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes a little. 

“It doesn’t seem like you want to be around me anyway!” She scoffs, finally turning away from him and grabbing her jacket from where she had thrown it over the back of the couch. Sugawara’s anger dies down a little as he realises that Y/N actually means to walk out.

“Hey, wait!” He takes a step towards her and reaches out to grab her wrist. “Sweetheart, wait a second-”

“Don’t!” she snaps yanking her wrist away. “You’re free to spend the night with your friends, Koushi. Don’t let me hold you back.” She turns on her heel and ignores his pleads, slamming the door shut on her way out. 

Sugawara stands there for a good minute, shocked. He can’t quite believe he had driven her to the point of leaving. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, thinking about their ‘conversation’. He had indeed cancelled on their plans...thrice, but Y/N had claimed it was alright with her. His eyes widen as he starts to realise how she was right. 

He was neglecting her. He let her go. Why hadn’t he stopped her? How could he have let this happen? Oh, God, was she crying when she left, he can’t remember and-

A clap of thunder startles him out of his thoughts. He looks out into the night as droplets of water start to pitter patter onto the window. He scrambles to grab his own jacket, cursing himself for waiting so long to go after her. He never should have let her go in the first place. What if she was hurt?

The cold wind sinks its teeth into her and prickles her skin uncomfortably the moments she steps out onto the sidewalk. Pulling her jacket closer around her, she clutches her arms close to herself, letting out a watery sniff. She refused to go back, even if it was freezing outside. How could he be so insensitive?

She missed her boyfriend. That was it. All she wanted to do was curl up in his arms and watch a movie like they usually did. She hadn’t seen him at all thi week, and she missed his smile, his laugh, his teasing. She can’t see how he doesn’t see things from her point of view. 

Didn’t he miss her?

The thought allows the tears she’d been holding back to sting her eyes and slip down her cheeks. Did he not like spending time with her anymore? When did that start? She claps a hand over her mouth as a tiny sob escapes her lips. Tears cloud her vision, making everything a soft blur. She refused to go running back to him with an apology. If he wanted to make things right, Sugawara would have to come to her, she decides.

Sniffing she moves to wipe the tears out of her eyes. Too caught up in her misery, she doesn’t hear frantic footsteps behind her, nor does she hear her name being called. If she had turned around Y/N would have seen her boyfriend running to her, a look of fear and worry on his face.

She also fails to notice the bright headlights heading straight towards her, a car swerving off the road, skidding her way. The blaring horn catches her attention, attempting to warn her, but it’s far too late.

Y/N doesn’t even get a chance to scream. The crunch of bone and Sugawara’s yell is instantaneous...and then there’s nothing.

A steady beeping noise slowly drags her back to consciousness. As the seconds tick by she can start to hear someone sniffling, smell the clean smell of a hospital, and feel someone holding her hand. She groans after a while and summons enough energy to crack open an eye. The action drains her, as she stares at the ceiling. The warm hand suddenly disappears and is replaced with a familiar mop of grey hair. 

She sees her boyfriend looking down at her, tired and frazzled, his eyes rimmed red from crying. Y/N sees his mouth moving, but can’t really register what he’s saying. SHe feels warmth in her chest as she realises that he’s here, he’s actually here with her. Smiling a little, she feels the edges of her vision go black again. 

“...K-Koushi?” she mutters, almost indecipherable, before she falls back into darkness. If she had stayed conscious for a little while longer, she would have seen Sugawara panicking and calling for a doctor. 

The second time she wakes up goes much more smoothly. Her eyes flutter open easily this time. She yawns a little and stares at the tiled ceiling for a bit. Shifting a little, she winces as her arm throbs, looking down she frowns upon seeing her entire forearm covered by a cast. Now that she’ss thinking about it, her whole body aches. Sighing, she suddenly notices someone’s in the room. Looking over, she sees Sugawara slumped over in the chair next to her bed. 

He looks dead tired and is in the same clothes she last saw him in. Shifting in a attempt to sit up, her cast bumps into the edge of the bedframe and she hisses in pain. The soft sound is enough to wake up the guy, who groans a little and sits up, rubbing his eyes. 

All thought of going back to sleep are thrown out the window as he sees Y/N wide awake. 

“Y-Y/N!” he stands suddenly and rushes over to her. His hands over in front of her hesitantly, not wanting to touch her and accidentally jostle an injury. He drops them to his side. “You’re alright.” He says looking over her. 

“Koushi.” She tilts her head and Sugawara catches the bruises on her shoulder that disappear into her shirt. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He says moving closer, his voice a little choked up. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. If I’d listened you wouldn’t be here, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I-”

“Koushi!” She cuts him off. “It’s alright.” 

“No! No it’s not. It’s not! Your arms broken because of me, you’re in pain and-”

“And it’s not your fault.” She frowns. “Last I remember you didn’t hit me with your car.”

“But I-”

“...you still hurt me. But I’m alright.” she reaches out and tugs on his sleeve pulling him closer, wrapping her good arm around his middle. He gingerly puts his arms around her shoulder and very gently squeezes. She huffs out a laugh against his chest. “I’m not made of glass y’know.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you.” he mumbles into her hair. “‘M sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice is muffled aas he nuzzles into her hair, and Y/N can feel drops of tears on her head. She whispers reassurances as he apologises over and over again, regretting the whole day. 

Y/N lets him hold and fuss over her the whole time she’s in the hospital. He never leaves her side the whole time.

Request Are Open and Appreciated 

[ssamie]

six. “friends die together”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide 

masterlist.           suicide freak!

kenma slowly opened his eyes. the dim rays of the sun were slowly peeking through his bedroom window as he stretched and rolled around his bed, wrapping himself up in a blanket burrito as he felt his eyes slowly fluttering close once again. 

it had been atleast a week since he's actually gotten sleep, and now he's just trying to relish in the feeling of rest before he completely disregards it again. 

all of a sudden, his phone rang. 

"what the.." he mumbled with a groan 

it was currently five in the morning, and he knew kuroo was smart enough not to call him. especially since kenma would usually just be gaming or would just straight up ignore him. 

"hello?" he muttered to the phone, not bothering to check the ID 

"good morning!" y/n's chirpy la-di-da voice resonated from the phone 

immediately, kenma groaned and rolled his eyes. he had to fight the urge of hanging up the phone then and there. 

"what do you want? and why are you calling me so early in the morning?" kenma asked 

"now, now! don't be so stingy kenma-kun!" she laughed "i just wanted to check up on ya, that's all" she said, followed by soft humming of a melody 

kenma blinked as he groggily listened to her words. "oh. okay.." 

"thanks for that, i guess.." he said 

"aww! your voice is all deep and gravelly in the morning! very hot." she chirped 

kenma sighed. he could practically sense the stupid flirty smile appearing on her face. "and you sound oh so happy. as always." kenma chirped back sarcastically

a small smile grazed his lips as she started laughing on the other line. 

"oh, kenma! you're so funny!" she chuckled "when have i ever been happy?" 

"wait what-" 

"anyways, kenma-kun.." she trailed off, her cheerful tone now dropped as an eerily serious and guarded one replaced it. 

"y-yes?" kenma gulped 

"im afraid im in a tight spot as we speak. its quite critical. please come to the location i will send you." she spoke in a monotonous tone 

"huh? wait!" kenma exclaimed. he sat up on his bed, subconsciously reaching for his nekoma jacket which was messily laid out on the foot of his bed. "what are you talking about?" he asked, his hands were shaking, as well as his voice. 

"its a crisis! only you can help!" she said 

"okay. i-i'll be there.." 

humming under her breath, y/n patiently waited for kenma to arrive. she didn't have so much faith at first, but once she heard the soft thumping of feet on the ground, she grinned. 

"w-what happened?" kenma asked through ragged breaths as he skidded to a halt infront of her "a-and what are you wearing?" kenma asked 

he took notice of her rather formal attire, laying underneath the sand colored coat she had. his brows then shot up as he calmed his ragged breathing. 

"is this because of your weird detective work thing? did you get trapped?" kenma asked worriedly. when she didn't answer, he simply panicked even more. "why did you call me?! you should've called those other detective people!" kenma exclaimed 

"i got in myself" she admitted with a small innocent smile 

"what?" kenma deadpanned, now starting to regret running atleast eight blocks just to help her 

"well, you see.. i heard there's a way to commit suicide by getting stuck in an oil drum. so i decided to give it a shot" she said with the same innocent smile. she then chuckled sheepishly as she started sinking deeper into the oil drum. 

"but now that i've wedged myself in this deep, i can't get out on my own" she said 

kenma simply stared her down, looking unamused, tired and annoyed. "i see." he says 

"i think i might die" she pouted as she sank deeper into the drum. 

kenma grunted and sat on the ground, sitting a few feet from the drum she was stuck in. he was kind of impressed on how her whole body hadn't snapped in two yet. 

"well, isn't that what you wanted?" kenma said with a huff of annoyance 

"i like suicide" she said with a scoff, sounding somewhat offended "but i don't like suffering and pain! why would i?" 

"i see" kenma said with a sigh. he sat up from the ground and narrowed his eyes, trying to look for a way to free her from the oil drum

"also, i learned this only after i stuffed myself in here, but it wasn't even a suicide method!" she laughed 

"but, it was actually a torture method from the-" 

before she could even finish her sentence, she was cut off as kenma pushed the oil drum over, sending her and the drum rolling off. he let out a huge breath of air as he cradled his aching hands. 

"ni-nice job, kenma-kun" she squeaked out as she wiggled free of the drum. "but now.. we have only an hour left before school starts" she said as she patted down her clothes and combed her fingers through her hair 

"and i heard from nekomata-san that he has some news that you boys would surely love" she said as she stretched her aching muscles 

"are we really gonna move past the fact that you wedged yourself in an oil drum!?" kenma exclaimed in aggravation 

". . ." she looked at him with a dumb smile before sending him a wink and a thumbs up. 

"yep! we sure are!" 

"i hate you so much" kenma muttered 

she smirked teasingly and loomed over his shoulder "hehehe~ well if you hate me so much, then why go through all the trouble to help me?" she cooed 

kenma scoffed and flicked her away. "because we're.." he trailed off "nevermind.." a small blush covered his cheeks faintly, but it was enough to get her attention. 

she chuckled lowly and poked his cheeks. she narrowed her eyes and tauntingly stared him down. "oya? what's this, kenma-kun? do you like me or something?~" she teased 

kenma flinched and covered his cheeks with his hands "no! no i don't!" he quickly denied "i just thought that.." he muttered quietly

"since we're friends and all.. i thought it'd be right to help you.." kenma admitted bashfully 

stunned from his words, she couldn't really do anything but stare at him blankly with widened eyes. "we're friends?" she asked 

kenma spluttered at her response, suddenly feeling anxious and embarrassed, thinking that he overstepped their 'relationship' 

"um- i mean.. i just thought that since we've been hanging out but.." kenma said nervously. he fiddled with his hands as he looked down at his feet, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. 

"sorry, i guess i overstepped. sorry for misreading things" he apologised 

finally realising what she's done, she gasped in horror as she looked at his heartbroken expression  "oh my gosh." she muttered "im so sorry!" 

she frantically patted his back, and stroked his hair "i-i meant like- i didnt know you considered me as a friend!" she exclaimed  "i kind of thought you just see me as a suicidal leech or something!" she shrieked 

"im sorry kenma! kill me now!" she exclaimed dramatically 

kenma finally looked up to see her tearing some of her bandages off, only for her to tie it tightly around her neck. 

"im sorry!" she cried as she squeezed tightly, trying to strangle herself to death 

"wait! don't do that!" kenma said in panic. his hands pried the bandages off and hastily threw them away. 

"you don't have to kill yourself over me" kenma sighed 

she sniffled and crushed him in her arms "kenma! you are most certainly my most treasured friend!" she cried 

"i would die for you and with you!" 

"let's not go too far" kenma said with a small smile 

"shall we start with the double suicide now?" she asks, fully ignoring his interjection 

"no <3" 

"fukurodani?" she muttered, looking quite confused and clueless 

"yes. it seems a three-day practice match has been scheduled" nekomata said with a smile  "their coach suggested the idea and who was i to decline, am i right?" nekomata chuckled 

"this will be a good opportunity for the team to train and explore new ways of playing for future tournaments." nekomata then looked at y/n and sent her a close eyed smile. "and a chance for you to test your managing skills, y/n-san" he said 

she nodded in agreement. 

"well then, now that that's settled.. you’re free to go! rest up and eat well! you'll be playing nonstop starting tomorrow" nekomata said as he ushered them out of the gym 

"thanks, coach!" the team yelled 

as the team arrives by the gate, they started to disperse. fukunaga, inouka, teshiro, and shibayama ended up declining the offer of an afterschool hangout. they claimed they needed the rest for upcoming games, so they left them be. 

"bye guys! bye y/n-senpai! see you tomorrow!!" inouka yelled from across the street. the energetic first year was waving both his arms around while shibayama drags him along. fukunaga sends them a quick nod and a small wave before they completely disappear from sight. 

"hm, so what do you guys wanna do?" kai asks with a smile 

"let's eat!" lev suggested with a grin 

"sure. where should we go? i don't really have a particular craving right now" kai said as he looked at his friends expectantly 

"we should eat at the diner near that convenience store" yaku says "it's cheap and they serve great food" 

simply humming to herself, y/n takes a quick look at the boys who seemed to be lost in their own conversations. her (e/c) colored eyes then landed on kenma, who seemed to busy with his game. 

kuroo was holding on his bag, making sure the pudding-head wouldn't walk into oncoming traffic. she smiled at the boy, taking in his overwhelmingly beautiful features. 

yamamoto was beside her, ranting about his friends from karasuno and their 'goddess of a manager' 

"we’re here!" lev unnecessarily announced as he skipped into the said diner.  "what should we eat?" he asks 

"fish-" ; "meat-" 

yaku and kuroo freeze and look at each other. their eyes silently roam one another as they look at the other with judgment. 

"hah? are we really doing this again, yakkun?" kuroo scowled. the taller bedheaded male leaned down to get all up in yaku's face, while the latter simply did the same 

"dont call me that stupid nickname, bedhead!" yaku scowled as well "and fish? pssh, what are you a grandpa?" yaku said with a snicker 

"could you stop making comments proving you lack docosahexaenoic acid?" kuroo sneered in aggravation 

"you're ought to eat more fish to fix that.. maybe even your height problem!" kuroo taunted 

yaku scowled and gripped the taller boy's collar "your stupid face is begging to be hit!" 

"no! kuroo-san, don't let him hit you!" lev yelled "he's feral!" 

"oi! shut up!" taketora hissed as he covered lev's mouth with his hand 

yaku turned to face lev, evidently irked and angered by his comment. "hah?! come here, you tall lampost! -" 

"wah! yaku-san i didnt even do anything!" lev exclaimed with teary eyes as the shorter boy continued to kick him 

kai and taketora then took initiative to calm their friends down. partially because they didn't want anyone injured. but mostly because they were fighting infront of the diner, and it was starting to get embarrassing. 

"ke-n-ma~" she cooed in a sing song tone 

kenma sighed and quickly glanced at her, before averting his attention back to his game "what?" he said 

she smiled and laced their arms together. she then pointed to a bridge not so far away from where they were standing. "you see that bridge?" she asked "and the pretty river under it?" 

"oh god. i see where this is going." kenma groaned. he turned off his game and followed her finger, eyeing the bridge she was talking about. 

"wouldn't it be so nice if we just jump off-" 

"how about we don't do that?" kenma cut her off with a sigh 

"but you're my friend right?" she whined childishly "don't friends die together?!" 

"how about we don't die at all. doesn't that sound better?" kenma tried to convince her with a sheepish smile 

her smile fell as she narrowed his eyes, seemingly disgusted and offended by his statement. 

"what? no, not at all." 

[vickyskpopkingdom]

Baekhyun :: working blues

request: Hii! Im rlly into baekhyun's new album rn and i was hoping u could write a fluff where ur just having a rough day and he sings u to sleep pls!! Rlly like ur fluff writes btw 💕💕

thank you so much for your kind words! i haven't written about exo in a long, long time but i hope that you still like what i came up with!

warnings: overworking, stress

1.8k words, gn reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes you felt like the world was collapsing on you. The weight on your shoulders got too heavy at times and you were just tired. So tired, so tired. Today was one of those days.

The work you had to do didn't seem to end. At this point you couldn't even count how many e-mails you had answered, how many texts you have read, how many calls you made and how many words you have written. Your eyes were so tired they started to water at the sight of the bright screen of your laptop in front of you. When had it become so dark around you? Hasn't it been noon just a few minutes ago?

A quick glance through your bedroom window and towards the clock on your wall told you something different. It was already eight p.m., the streetlamp outside your window was the only source of light right now other than your laptop. With a sigh you leaned back into your chair and tried stretching your arms as well as your neck and legs. Every joint in your body seemed to make a protesting cracking noise and as you tried to massage your neck, your muscles burned with protest.

You sighed again. Maybe you really should invest in one of those fancy office chairs that claimed to be a blessing for your whole body. At the thought of the price however you shook that thought out of your head.

Standing up you got through another round of stretching your whole body and decided to check out the kitchen for food. It only hit you as the dim light of the fridge illuminated your face that you were supposed to go grocery shopping today. Empty shelves greeted you back and your stomach grumbled angrily.

You tried hard not to scream out of frustation. Nothing wanted to work your way these days and you were honestly so tired of it. For some time you were able to tell yourself that everything would work out and that you would find your working blues again but that was yet to happen. Quietly you closed the fridge door again, sliding down against it to the floor.

The project you had been assigned at the start of last week was way more complicated than you had anticipated, the sources you were thinking of using turned out to be a scam. Adding to that the promotion you had been so sure of getting had been given to someone else and while you could understand that they deserved it, you were sure that you would have deserved it as well. Not only was your fridge emtpty but you had been neglecting your healthy eating habits for quite some time now, which only frustated you more.

And today all of these things seemed to add up all at once, crushing you under their weight.

When was the last time you really had a good nights sleep? You had worked late and gotten up early, eating only bits and pieces of instant food, sitting at your desk all day and falling into bed only to repeat the same cycle over and over again. Right now you were fighting to keep the tears at bay but the merry-go-round in your head kept spinning, piling up more and more worries.

When was the last time you had seen your friends? When was the last time you even properly talked to them? You were always telling them that you were busy with work when they asked to hang out. They never pressured you to still come with them but you knew that they would love to see you again even for a few hours. Yet you still could not get yourself to take their invitations, the thought of your unfinished project sitting in the back of your head constantly.

When was the last time your boyfriend--?

Just as the tears started flowing down your face the doorbell rang. Its sound surprised you so much that you jumped up, your heart beating fast. The clock in your kitchen read nine p.m. One hour went by while you were staring holes in the walls and drowned in your thoughts.

You couldn't really think of a reason why someone would visit you this late, on a weekday nonetheless. But not answering the door wasn't an option either, you would just start to worry about 'what-ifs'. So you decided to take a peak through the peephole in your door.

Your heart picked up its pace at you saw a familiar face illuminated by the light of a smartphone-screen, lookin worried and confused. Fumbling with your keys you opened the door and the person looked up from their phone.

"Hey Bambi, are you okay?"

Baekhyuns voice filled your ears as soon as he looked into your face. He eyed you up and down, making sure you were alright. "I texted and tried to call you for at least two hours now. There was no reaction from you whatsoever."

As you allowed him to step into your home, you sighed. "Sorry, I threw my phone across the room at one point and didn't pick it up again."

Your boyfriend chuckled as he got rid of his shoes and coat, placing both neatly onto their usual spots in the entrance of your flat. Just the sight of him, doing everyday things, smiling, talking was an instant boost for your mood. Now that he was here you fully realized just how much you had missed his presence.

"Why would you throw your phone?", Baekhyun questioned.

You made a dismissive move with your hand, not wanting to talk about the infuriating call you had to make a few hours ago. "I was frustrated", you only said.

Together you and Baekhyun made your way towards your bedroom. Just as you stepped into the room and turned on the lights you remembered the state you left your working place in. But it was too late to make him turn around now. Quickly you tried to tidy up the place a little bit, hiding the traces of your overworking as Baekhyun cleared his throat to gain your attention.

"Are you drowning yourself in work again?"

You stopped dead in your tracks. This wasn't the first time he had seen you piling up work on your shoulders and ending up being unable to do anything else. Back then you had promised him to take better care of yourself or at least take real breaks once in a while to catch a breath.

"Maybe...."

Now it was Baekhyuns turn to sigh. "Did you eat today? And before you answer i mean 'eat a proper meal'."

Picking up your phone from the floor you sat yourself down on the bed. "No, not really. It's just this project..."

Baekhyun shook his head at you, but you still noticed the small smile on his face. "You are such a hard-working person. But you need to allow yourself some time to breathe, you know?"

His voice was calm, sounding like music to your ears. Even after all this time you had been in a relationship with him you were still surprised by how easily he could make you relax.

"Yes, I know."

"And since I am such a caring and awesome boyfriend", he said, rustling with a plastic bag you only now noticed in his hands, "I brought you some food."

As you looked into his smiling face you couldn't help but ask yourself how you got so lucky.

The meal was good, it was your favorite and having Baekhyun by your side made you feel even more grounded. It almost felt like you gained new energy after a week of complete exhaustion and constant worrying. While you were eating the both of you talked about everything and nothing, catching up, telling stories and sharing your newest netflix suggestions.

The evening proceeded and your eyes landed on the clock again. It was late, if you were still caught up in your workaholic-lifestyle you would have already been asleep right now. However surprisingly you currently were not even close to worrying about getting up the next morning. What bothered you most right now was that this evening would end and eventually you would have to go to sleep an wake up in the morning, getting back to your work.

Baekhyun seemed to notice the frown on your face sooner than you could hide it again. "What's wrong?"

You shrugged. "This is nice, simply being together with you. But you probably have to leave soon and then tomorrow I have to work on this stupid project again."

"I can stay the night, if you want me to of course."

"I didn't want to pressure you into--"

"You didn't", he interrupted you, before you could end the sentence and feel like you made him stay against his will, "I actually wanted to ask if I could stay anyways. Tomorrow is one of my free days. I could even keep you company while you work."

Your chest felt warm at his words. "I would love that."

Soon you two found yourselves back in your bed, bodies entangled with each other, quiet breaths sounding through the room. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, but as soon as you closed your eyes all you could think of was the next morning, the project, the unanswered emails, the calls.

"Still can't calm down, Bambi?", Baekhyun whispered in your ear, while slowly stroking your hair.

With closed eyes you shook your head. "I can't take my mind off of work."

The next thing you heard was quiet humming coming from Baekhyun. You could feel the vibration of his vocal chords against your own body. His voice really was a blessing for everyones ears, he could carry emotions through singing that you weren't even able to put into words. His songs made you happy, they made you cry occasionally, they made you feel calm or made you miss something you didn't even knew existed. It was a gift.

His humming transformed into words, calmly sang into the otherwise dark and quiet room.

It's a night filled with a single stream of light

You're my timely rain, Bambi

I don't want to waste even a second of this night just

being the two of us

As you listened to his singing, you could finally feel your muscles relaxing, your brain calming down and your whole body drifting towards sleep. There were no worrysome thoughts turning your mind upside down anymore, there was only Baekhyun and his voice filling your head with images of your favorite places, your favorite memories and him. The warmth of his body under the blankets made you feel safe, at home. This was were you belonged.

And while Baekhyun continued with the song you fell into a deep sleep, one that you deserved after all the work you had done. You already knew that you found your blues again. Everything would work out again, just like you had always thought yourself. And all you had needed was just a small push in the right direction from the right person.

I don't want to wake up from this dream, keep this tempo

I hope the sun doesn't rise while I keep my eyes closed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really hope you enjoyed this one! It was nice to write something again but I do feel like i am a little bit out of training i guess haha

and also if you feel like the reader in this scenario, please remember that there will be better days & that life is more than working day to day! take a break, make some tea, get some fresh air and get back to your work with a fresh mind; you can do it!!

[hufflautia]

In Sickness and in Health

Requested by @milk-leaves!​  

Warnings: A very brief and non-explicit sexual implication

Summary: Slytherin catches the flu. Luckily, her husband is there to help. However, her stubborn nature and insistent claim that “she can’t be sick because she’s never been sick in her entire life” makes it a little difficult for Hufflepuff to assist her. Marriage isn’t always easy, but with the proper amount of love and patience, everything works out in the end. 

Slytherin grabs the garbage can just in time to vomit into the basket. When she finishes, she wipes her mouth with a grimace and rests her forehead against the bed. 

“Honey?” 

She looks up and sees Hufflepuff standing by the door, his forehead puckered as he takes in her appearance. Her hair unruly, she’s slumped on the floor of their bedroom, looking tired and pale. 

Usually, Slytherin would be happy to see her husband. However, all she feels is irritation in the wake of his presence, and she leans against the side of the mattress once more. 

“What are you doing here,” she croaks, eyeing him as he approaches her and kneels down. “I thought you had to go to the Ministry today.” 

“It was a minor emergency, so I left early.” He regards her carefully. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

Hufflepuff frowns. “But you threw up.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been doing that a lot today,” she murmurs weakly. Noticing his eyes widen, she snorts. “I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re thinking. I got my period today.”  

He gives her a sympathetic look. “I imagine it’s been a very fun day for you.” 

“The best I’ve ever had, actually.” 

Leaning in ever so slightly, that’s when Hufflepuff sees it—the faint flush on her face, the way she folds her arm around herself, the tinge of hoarseness in her voice.  

He reaches out and touches Slytherin’s forehead. Her skin feels hot and cold at the same time. She bats away his hand in annoyance. “What are you doing,” she snaps, scowling at him. Her anger immediately falters when she notices how his eyebrows rise, a look of surprise mixed with hurt spreading onto his face. 

“You have a fever,” he confirms quietly. 

Slytherin resists a frown. “But I never get sick.” 

“Well, it happens to the best of us.” He gets up. “Wait here, I’ll get some medicine.” 

“I don’t need it,” she calls after him but he’s already in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. He returns with a bottle and a small cup. Taking a seat before pouring red liquid into the cup, he ignores her when she says his name in a tone of indignation, insisting that she isn’t sick.

Hufflepuff hands it to her. “Drink,” he says firmly. When she juts her chin out and pouts, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Honey, I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel better.”

She still doesn’t move. This time, he returns her unyielding stare with one of his own. His tone is hard and demanding as he warns, “I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

Slytherin grudgingly brings the cup to her lips. If she didn't feel like complete shit right now, she would keep pushing his patience for fun. She’d even be a little turned on by his authoritative voice. Probably both. 

She immediately makes a face as the medicine slides down her throat. “This tastes like ass,” she grumbles, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth and setting the cup down. 

He chuckles. “Medicine tends to taste that way.” He stands and offers his hand. “Come. I’m sure a warm shower sounds perfect right now.”  

A faint smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. “How’d you know,” she asks, taking his hand. A wave of nausea sweeps over her when she gets up, and he quickly plants his hands on either side of her. 

“I’m your husband,” he pulls her closer, “I know these things.” 

Slytherin wraps her arms around him. “Will you carry me to the bathroom,” she mumbles into his sweater. 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head before picking her up bridal-style with care. 

“Do you even have to ask?” 

A couple of hours pass. Feeling drowsy from the medicine, Slytherin took a long nap before waking up to the smell of homemade soup. Hufflepuff cooked something for her while she was sleeping. To her dismay, he also gave her another cup of NyQuil, but she drank it without any resistance. Afterwards, her headache subsided and was diminished to a dull pain, which is nothing compared to before. 

Now, she is laying in bed, feeling comfortable and content as she snuggles with her husband while he reads her favorite book out loud. She’ll probably never openly admit it but she loves when they cuddle. Listening to the smooth drawl of his voice, she catches a few words while dozing in and out of sleep. Her lips curve into a smile. He’s getting to her favorite part where he speaks in a ridiculous voice when reading the dialogue of an ancient wizard. 

Hufflepuff had read the book to her before when they were dating. He used the same wise and raspy voice as he uses now. At that moment, as she attempted to hold in her laughter, she knew he was the one. Funnily enough, he ended up proposing to her a month later. 

Feeling the familiar tug in her heart that can only be classified as complete adoration, Slytherin musters enough strength to pull herself out of the cozy arms of sleep. She shifts around so that she can properly see his face and says his name tenderly. 

“What is it,” he asks, putting the book down. “Is your headache still bothering you?” 

“A little, but...I’m sorry for being mean to you before. I was angry at you for no reason, but it might’ve been because of my period, and you already know how bad my PMS gets sometimes, but I still feel terrible about being so rude because you’re so great and sweet and you were only trying to help but I was being so difficult and I think I’m just not really used to people taking care of me, so I was trying to handle this flu on my own but I still shouldn’t have acted that way—and I literally hit your fucking hand and I hate myself for it because you don’t deserve it at all, you deserve so much more than whatever I have to offer...” Words continue to spill from her mouth as she rambles on and on, not bothering to pause for a breath of air. 

Hufflepuff says her name and she finally stops, staring back at him with a contorted expression as if she were trying to back tears. He cups her cheek, to which she leans into his warm touch. “Please don’t worry about that anymore, honey, it’s okay. Honestly. I’ve been with you long enough to know that there’s no one else I would rather be with but you. Even with your stubbornness, I love you all the same. Maybe even a little more.” He gives her a reassuring smile as she looks back at him with watery eyes. “Just focus on resting for now, okay?”

She nods and tries to smile back, getting a little choked up in the process. His words are laced with so much endearment that she realizes just how lucky she is to have someone like him to spend the rest of her life with. She puts her hand over his. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, “for loving me as you do.”  

His gaze is so unimaginably soft that, for a split second, Slytherin wonders how it’s even possible. He leans in, and she happily closes the distance. 

One might think that as time passes for a married couple, the love begins to stale. This is not true in their case, for the flutter in her stomach intensifies as they kiss. She can only focus on how soft he feels against her lips, how he invades all her senses in the best way possible. Her fingers grip the front of his shirt while his hand rests against the curve of her neck when they finally pull apart. Their noses brush against each other as they lock eyes. 

“I love you,” she breathes. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “And I love you.” 

“Good. Because we’re stuck with each other forever.” 

“I’d be sad if we weren’t,” he replies with a grin, retrieving the book. “Shall I continue reading?” 

She beams at him before laying her cheek against his chest. “Yes please.” 

Hufflepuff flips to the page he left off from. While he reads, he traces patterns around her stomach, as if he's painting a beautiful masterpiece over her skin. 

A couple of chapters in, Slytherin momentarily closes her eyes as his melodious voice washes over her. 

The sound of his steady heartbeat lulls her to sleep. 

FIN.

~

Check out my masterlist! | Kind comments and reblogs are most appreciated :) 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: 

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It took me a while to come up with an idea for this (also, to the person who requested this, I hope you are satisfied :D). My friend had the idea of “a vacation gone horribly wrong”. It was a fantastic idea - I even made a google doc for it and everything, but I did not write out a sufficient amount of general details for it because nothing solid came to mind. Then, when I was trying to go to sleep, I came up with this idea and I am very happy with how it came out!! 

I modeled Hufflepuff after Steve Rogers to some extent. He has that gentle giant type of vibe. He is kind and loving, but he’ll be stern if he needs to. I have to admit, the thought of making a series about slytherpuff married life has crossed my mind while writing this one-shot. I am still contemplating it. If I do create the series, it won’t be restricted to this couple specifically, but I will consider writing more stories about them because I really do adore their dynamic! Anyways, if I were to write that series, it would be different stories with different couples. It might not even be classified as a series but more as a collection of slytherpuff married life stories. Also, there would probably be at least one nsfw story included in that collection, but I will not be writing any smut until after my birthday, which is in April. *HI THIS IS JESSICA FROM THE NEXT DAY, aka the day that i’m gonna post this and im just going over the fic. while i was sleeping, i just thought of ANOTHER marriage fic so i think im going to make a married life collection of storiessss :D :D :D!!! however, im still wondering about whether i should write it, because the story idea is a little eh. if anyone has any other marriage life ideas, please feel free to let me know! before, i was a little hesitant on making a collection because it was hard for me to think of ideas for this fic when the request came in. hopefully, that will change in the future. also why do i keep coming up with good ideas for stories in my sleep lmao* 

Writing this story was fun. I stayed up until 2 am for four straight days while writing. Lmao how odd is it to see those two sentences right next to each other? In all honestly, I didn’t feel like it was 2 am because I was in the zone. I just kept writing until I told myself to go to bed because the future morning me will regret it--and lemme tell you, she really does. Anyways, I used my own experience with medicine for fevers. I absolutely hate the taste of NyQuil; I remember when my mom would make me drink small cups of it whenever I was sick. Also, when I was writing Sly’s rambling bit, I did not put any periods in the paragraph because I wanted to make it seem like she’s going on and on and isn’t stopping. However, I thought it to be weird and so I put the paragraph into the “translate to english” thing so that I could press the audio icon and hear what it sounds like. I’m happy to report that it was one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard in my entire life because her monotone voice saying all that was very amusing. 

There is no telling what fic I will post next. Last week, I was all over the place and working on several fics, moving from one to another when I got bored of the story. Also, my mental state is not the best at the moment. I’ve been feeling self-conscious about my writing recently, and I’m probably gonna go through another episode of that because this is gonna be the first fic that marks the end of tag lists and so this is probably gonna be an underrated fic because fewer ppl will see it. I came to realize that it’s not me who’s writing bad fics; even though I tag people, there’s a noticeable lack of interaction, so it’s likely that some of my followers just aren’t active anymore. There was a fanfic writer who I really like because their loki fics are amazing. A few weeks ago, I found their other blog that I was not aware of beforehand and they made a post 3 weeks ago saying that they would no longer be writing fics because there were barely any people interacting with them. She seemed really upset, saying stuff like “I guess my fics just aren’t good enough”, “no one can save me anymore” (I know that sounds very ominous but she was insinuating “no nice comments will make me change my mind”), and “I feel like deleting my blog because there’s a sense of failure in just leaving them there”. This made me really sad, and a part of me was afraid that one day, I would adopt a similar mindset. However, I know that there’s a group of people who will always be there to read my stories, so I’m gonna try to hold onto that idea and continue writing to make you happy and myself happy as well. Also I just realized that I always include one part in my author’s note that’s just sad for some reason :’)

ANYWAYS, I remember making a post a longgggg time ago that said “I promise that I will finish the slytherpuff series if it’s the last thing I do”. That has changed; I plan to post all the chapters leading up to their requited love at last (aka the part in which they actually get into a relationship together). After that, there’s still a bunch of chapters but they’re just fluffy bits, i.e. rainy day, they bake together, oop it’s one of their birthdays, etc. In other words, they aren’t essential to the plot. I could turn them into one-shots and stuff, but some of the chapters relate to the characters’ lives. In addition, it’s sweet to see their relationship progress. For those chapters regarding fluffy bits of their relationship, I won’t feel incentive to write them right away because their love is already requited and I also have two big series that I would rather work on. However, I’m not gonna start another series yet because I don’t wanna leave you on a cliffhanger in Chapter 3 and suddenly start writing a whole other series. The plan is to post all the chapters for the slytherpuff series leading up to the moment when they start dating (Chapter 7 or 8 will probably be when they actually get together). That way, there’s no rush to complete it because it’s just easy and sweet since they’re already in a relationship and readers aren’t anxiously waiting to see what happens next. After that, I will probably begin writing the other series, which will be different from the original slytherpuff series. You’ll see why. Once in a while, I will go back to the original series and write for that when I feel like it. 

I’m trying my best to finish writing Chapter 4 :( It is gonna be long - I’ve already written about 7 pages and I am thinking of splitting it into two parts. If I do, I might be posting part 1 soon because it’s kind of already done. Then again, I like the idea of just posting it all at once. We’ll see! I’m gonna try to work on that after this. My desire to write is sporadic, but comments and interactions from readers are very impactful in terms of my motivation to write, so be sure to leave feedback if you can! I’ll see you all again the next time I post a fic. Thanks for reading!

Tags: 

@slytherpuff-shenanigans @axieleration @sunnniiee @just--another--bean @determinedpines @zenobiagrace @asterinflower @cinnamon-roll-unicorn @mossy-axolotl @dumbbitch11 @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @notsowiseravenclaw  @arianatorpotterhead @eatacrackerandstop @luciferswife16 @walkinganomaly @asunshinepuff @lewispoolerpayton @adreameratdawn @thewitcheswords @oncergleekpotterhead @princessstoopid @stardustzainy @flvrqnce @multi-fandom-nutjob @eunnieah @iamahufflepuff @1hufflepuff @introvertedrae @princessstoopid @jasminedayz @magnoliamermaid @HOPEFUL-HUFFLEPUFF-PEEVES @peanut-in-the-goal @pufflehuff929 @sophiexteresa @da-fox-rangerrr @dawinehouse @shipping-book-keeper @xxavaloraxx @silverhetdanes @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @elegantcroissantplaidpony @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @vickeyunicorn @arianatorpotterhead @hmilkwhoney @simpering-simpleton @grandcyclecreation @sweetinvisiblewriter @marvelenthusiast10 @mvlpksvthisht @qiaopa @beardedhumanoid @jadefox05 @justanotherperson @inkedintothepaper @minty-malfoy @trippy-morgan @fangirlgeekandfreak @boilyourteeth @absentmindeduniverse @colettedelaurel @halfelven1 @happy-puff @coloring-bud @in-love-with-remus-lupin @autumnpleaves @crakencc @flyme--tothemoon @hedgepuffgirl @littleemotionalpanda @pancakes-and-sugar @korra4321 @aquietkindofthunder @qixnsriess @porksoba @thatfann @hellounicorn @i-have-a-bad-feeling @aasa2102 @zuko-28 @annie-mcl @clementines-x @writtenfoxscreams @randomwriter23 @cryingabtwandavision @coolninjavoid @urfaveslytherin @malfoys-demigod @tumlbr-trasher @violayaxley @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @zainieees-stuff @milk-leaves @priii @capt-sparrow @blueberry-9-pancakes @stressy-depressy   

[bi-lesbian]

i think its half assed to blame anti-bi lesbian garbage on terfs. cause terfs didnt invent biphobia, it was a problem in lesbian community before the 70s as well. for example, bi women were accepted into lesbian community but were discouraged from behaving bisexually, sort to speak. not only that, bi women were seen as less loyal to lesbian lifestyle.

you can address terf rhetoric in anti-bi lesbian discourse (bi women cant love women like lesbians do, bi women make hets believe we're available to men, ect) but to me blaming it all on terfs just seems like a way to scare people into getting on your side.

im looking at this discourse from all angles and it appears that bisexuals werent "kicked out" like the narrative says, but they were tired of having monosexuals speak on behalf of their experiences so they created a new group for themselves.

to make it clear i support bi lesbians but can we get over this "if you are against bi lesbians youre parroting terf rhetoric" because it isnt necessarily true.

im not trying to scare people to do anything, im not saying anyone whos against the label is parroting radfem rhetoric (or at least i dont think i have.. i have really bad memory issues so i barely remember most things ive said, so im sorry if i say anything contradictory, feel free to point out if i do), just the fact that when looking into this stuff its a l o t of radfems/political lesbians spreading biphobic separatist shit, a predominant amount of people whove attacked me have been radfems, and then other people say word for word a lot of things they say... then thats spreading radfem rhetoric. if theyre not using the same reasonings then its not, but most shit i see people say have been exactly the same shit radfems have been saying. and when people try to claim bi lesbian is a radfem term, i think its extremely important to point out that no, radfems fucking DESPISE us and a lot of rhetoric against us is actually rooted in radfemism. im wanting to point out radfem rhetoric not to be a scare tactic, and im not gonna call just anyone against bi lesbians a radfem themself, bc that shits not helpful, but i want radfem rhetoric to be pointed out to encourage people to step back and look at what theyre saying and think on what sort of biases or ideology they may be leaning into.

and yeah, its not like radfems are the only source of biphobia, im meaning more that a lot of political lesbians took a lot of biphobic rhetoric and pretty much made it more "mainstream" ig you could say, and played on it VERY heavily.

and when the community is filled with biphobia/being talked over to the point that they feel its necessary to have to create their own group, that sounds like pretty much being kicked out to me? like im sure a lot of bi people would prefer having their own group anyways, but a LOT of stuff ive seen have also been a lot of bi people wanting to stay in lesbian circles but not feeling like theyre accepted there- the community is vast so theres not gonna be a unanimous stance on what theyd rather have. and if bi people making their own group was fully 100% motivated just by wanting their own group like i see people try to claim, the fact that so many lesbian spaces are vehemently against and even downright aggressive towards some bi people still prefering to be in lesbian spaces since thats what theyve always been in, or they have some other reasoning to feel more close to lesbian spaces- that doesnt exactly shout the separation could really be said as "just a choice" to me.

[meat--grindr]

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

·       It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

·       Even better, you aren’t alone.

·       Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

·       The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

·       Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

·       The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

·       The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

·       Okay. Sure.

·       It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

·       In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

·       “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

·       Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

·       “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

·       “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

·       “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

·       And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

·       The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

·       You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

·       In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

·       So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

·       He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

·       You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

·       His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

·       He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

·       “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

·       And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

·       He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

·       “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

·       Limp or lifeless?

·       The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

·       You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

·       You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

·       When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

·       He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

·       “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

·       Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

·       “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

·       He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

·       You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

·       You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

·       “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

·       And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

·       “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

·       The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

·       You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

·       Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

·       Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

·       You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

·       Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

·       For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

·       The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

·       You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

·       When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

·       “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

·       You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

·       His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

·       The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

·       “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

·       You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

·       Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

·       You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

·       “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

·       Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

·       There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

·       “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

·       There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

·       “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

·       “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

·       “Oh, yes.”

·       “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

·       Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

·       “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

·       Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

·       “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

·       The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

·       Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

·       Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

·       Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

·       “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

·       “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

·       You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

·       Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

·       Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

·       Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

·       “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

·       Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

·       “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

·       Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

·       You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

·       You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

·       “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

·       “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

·       You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

·       “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

·       Clever boy.

·       You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

·       He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

·       You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

·       He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

·       His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

·       You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

·       With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

·       His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

·       You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

·       “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

·       “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

·       You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

·       “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

·       “They are aware, yes.”

·       The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

·       Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

·       You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

·       Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

·       “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

·       You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

·       “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

·       The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

·       You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

·       “Oh yeah? How?”

·       “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

·       He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

·       ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

·       You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

·       Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

·       You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

·       He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

·       But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

·       This is going to be fun.

·       You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside.  Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

·       Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

·       “What was that, Count?”

·       “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

·       The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

·       Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

·       “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

·       With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

·       The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

·       “Their…blood?”

·       You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

·       “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

·       Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

·       The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

·       Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

·       The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

·       Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

·       Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

·       You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

·       “What’s going on, Count?”

·       “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

·       “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

·       Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

·       The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

·       Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

·       His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

·       Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

·       You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

·       “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

·       “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

·       Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

·       He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

·       With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

·       The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

·       His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.  

·       He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

·       The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

·       Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

·       He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

[brelione]

Defender (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Warnings:Canon Rafe,Canon Barry,Violence,short.

Request:Hello, can you do one with JJ when his girlfriend is in some kind of danger and he is very worried about her? A bit angsty and fluffy❤️You’re the best!!!

JJ woke up at two in the afternoon to a call from you.He smiled, wondering what you were calling him for.Sometimes you’d call him to tell him a fun fact or about a really funny joke you had just heard.

The others werent awake yet and he wasnt planning on being awake for a couple more hours, wondering why you would be awake at this time.Half asleep he answered the phone,his smile quickly fading.

 “What?”He asked, wanting to make sure that he had heard you properly. “I have no idea what to do, like they’re still there.”You whispered,glancing outside your bedroom window to see Rafe and Barry standing there, both of them holding pistols as they waited for you to answer the door.

You knew what this was about, that they were probably hoping JJ or the other pogues were there so Barry could have his money back.Your bedroom door was locked, hoping that they wouldnt kick the door down.

 “Alright, just stay put im on my way.”He whispered through the phone, scared that if he talked louder Rafe and Barry would break in faster.You stayed still, hiding under your windowsill as far from your door as you could be.

You couldve called the cops but then you’d have to explain why the two men were here in the first place and what your boyfriend had done which would do more harm than good.You did your best to keep your breathing under control, knowing it wouldnt help to be gasping and sobbing the whole time.

He got on his bike, figuring that it would be faster than John.B’s shitty van, speeding to your house with his heart pounding in his chest, tears pricking at his eyes.If you got killed it would 100% be his fault.He couldnt let it happen,picking up the speed, thorns slashing at his ankles but he couldnt care less.

Barry kicked your door in, shouting for you.Rafe hoped he wouldnt be forced to kill you.You were one of the few pogues he wasnt absolutely disgusted by and he didnt want to make that list any shorter.

 “Come out, come out wherever you are!Cant hide from us forever!”Her shouted,chuckling right after.Rafe was shaking, knowing that Barry probably wouldnt hesitate to shoot you.JJ skidded across the grass of your backyard,jumping off the bike with his hand on his gun,hurrying around the front of the house to see that the door had been forced open, cursing.

He wouldve texted or called you to ask if you were okay but luckily he thought about it, knowing that your phone would ring and give away your location to the two intruders.He tip toed through your house,finding Rafe in your kitchen.JJ was careful as he came up behind the older boy, getting close enough to press the cold barrel of the gun against the back of his head. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”JJ whispered,knowing that he had power over Rafe at this moment.Rafe went to turn, only for JJ to kick him to the floor, foot on the boy’s back and then gun to his head, Rafe’s gun falling from his hand.

 “I-Barry is upstairs-he knows that you took his money.”Rafe managed to squeak out, the bottom of JJ’s shoe pressing further into his spine.JJ leaned down, grabbing Rafe’s gun. “Get the fuck out and dont come back, ever.I will blow your fucking brains out, understand?”JJ asked, stomping down on his spine to prove his point.

Rafe held back a shout, nodding, running out as soon as JJ removed his foot.He now had two guns which meant that now he was more powerful than Barry.Speaking of, he could now hear the sound of all the other doors being forced open.

He carefully made his way up the stairs,Rafe’s gun in his hand now because it seemed more powerful.He saw Barry approaching your door, praying that you had barricaded it.He was shaking slightly, knowing that he had the upper hand since Barry hadnt seen him yet.

He ran at full speed towards the man, slamming him to the ground.It was all kind of blurry,everything happening quick as JJ’s hand pressed into the brunette’s throat, lifting him up before slamming him back down, blood coming from his cheekbone,temple and lip.

He was nearly unconscious when your door flew open to reveal you holding a metal baseball bat as you prepared to bash someones head in. “If you ever come back here I will fucking kill you.”JJ shouted,shaking Barry by the shoulders.Barry was to dazed to even look at the blonde,his head rolling to look at you instead.

 “You got yourself a defender, huh?”he chuckled, coughing blood.You glared down at him,stomping on his hair and making him hiss in pain.Barry got up, stumbling out of your house, the blood not stopping.

JJ let out a sigh of relief, looking up at you.He took the bat from your hands, hugging you tight. “Fucking hell, (Y/N).Im sorry.”He muttered,squeezing you so hard you thought your ribs might break. 

“Its fine,JJ.Im fine, everything is fine.”You whispered,fingers combing through his hair.He was just lucky that he had arrived before Barry got to the right door, silently thanking the universe.

He insisted on taking you back to John.B’s, claiming that you would be safer there not that Rafe and Barry knew where you lived.You held onto him as he drove the bike,head on his back.He had gone slower on the way back, not wanting you to get your ankles slashed by the same thorns.

He had to explain the situation to the rest of the pogues, all of them outraged by the situation.They had lectured him about taking the money, “I knew we shouldnt have taken that money, I told you this would happen!”John.B exclaimed, becoming frustrated. 

Pope and Sarah a lot more concerned about how you were doing mentally and physically after it, Pope asking if you were hurt at all and Sarah apologizing for her brohter doing something so terrible.

You told them that you were perfectly fine, not understanding why they were making such a huge deal of it. “God, I hate my brother.”Sarah groaned,resting her head against her palm.Kie rolled her eyes, looking over at you.

 “Thats what you have to say?Rafe tries to kill (Y/N) and all youre worried about is what it has to do with you?”Kiara sighed, making JJ smile. “Uh oh.”He mumbled into your ear, kissing your cheekbone lightly. 

“Shut up!”Sarah shouted back,John.B smacking his head against his seat. “Guys, seriously?”He asked, looking between the two girls. “Oh, as if you’ve been helpful!What are we gonna do now that they know where she lives?She cant go back there!”Kiara exclaimed, making JJ sit up.

 “I agree there, that’s why I think she should stay with you for a while. I mean think about it, your parents like her best, right?And you guys have that fancy ass kook security so they cant get to her there and you two get to have fun sleepovers.I see this as an absolute win.”JJ agreed, his hand somehow ending up on your knee.

Nobody really protested it, agreeing that it was probably the best option they had. “I’ll just find a way to sneak in at night.”He whispered into your ear.Kiara bit the inside of her cheek, thinking about it.

She would be lying if she said it wasnt a pretty good plan, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”She agreed, pretty sure her parents would be fine with it.They liked you mainly because you were a girl and you were quieter than the others, they couldnt really complain about you much.

The rest of your day was spent pressed against JJ’s chest on the living room couch, kisses being placed on your forehead and neck. “I love you.”He repeated over and over again. “Love you too.”You muttered, his constant touching making you tired. 

“Im sorry that Barry tried to kill you.”He muttered, sounding so serious that it made you laugh. “It’s fine...”You mumbled, still kind of shaken up over the whole situation. “Nope.”He replied, kissing you gently. “But i’ll make it up to you, promise.”He held up his pinkie, twisting it around yours.

@nas-marie-loves-u @28cnn @sexytholland  @yuxsh06   @ifilwtmfc  @cherryobx @poguestarkey @n1ghtsh4d3-67  @poguestyleskye @judayyyw  @sunwardsss @meaganjm @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @jj-fic-recs @homophobicclownmoviestan @jj-iz-bae @natalie-kate-98 @negativity4you @nxsmss @ofmaybankheart @broken-jj @joshy-obx  @curroptbunnie @outerbnx-stiles​ @angelreyesgirl100  @hannahhh-marie @sadnessrehab  @outerbongs​  @copper-boom​  @httpstarkey​ @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl​  @simonsbluee   @jiaraendgame  @khiaraaa-in-spacee​  @on-socks-off​  @abbiesthings​ @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless

[yhs-grian-rights]

Sorry to bother you, but what the hell happened with Sam? I knew he's a fuckin douche but what the hell happened here?

Well I've had alot of people ask what the hell went down, so I guess I'll answer it here!

A 'callout' post was posted on twitter, where they talked about all the weird content that is present in yhs,TS and KoV. The post itself I believe claims that it's not trying to cancel Sam the content creator, but meant to spread awareness, and dare they ask, have content warnings for their videos? Preposterous.

Anyway, it got people talking, good, people were getting educated and properly warned about the content. But that also gained the attention of Sam. One would usually apologize or clarify, or simply brush it off, but that would be too easy lol. I mean, holy shit Sam, dude if you're reading, you could have easily said 'oh that was 5 years ago, and I'm not like that anymore' and boom, it would have been done, I mean there was proof but still, most would have agreed. People can change. It's normal. I myself probably wouldn't have agreed with being called out if it was something that was done years ago, I think it's a shitty thing to do. But, instead of that, he DEFENDED himself, even said "I will continue making the same jokes where I see fit" WHICH IS??? HUH. He basically dug his own grave when he said that, where do you possibly see fit to make rape and suicide jokes???? In a Minecraft roleplay?? The fuck?

Anyway, I am not active on Twitter so I didn't see it all go down apart from screenshots and links. So I'll skip directly to the part that had to force me to get involved in this shit show.

Out of nowhere, Sam and Baylee (his sister) joined the server. The kinnie server (wheeze). And emediatelly a "discussion" as they called it, happened. It was 2 am so I was asleep at the time, but my friend rightfully handled the situation to have a proper discussion. You can see the highlights of it in Mika's post about it, where she simply asked that a content warning would be appropriate, seeing as kids watch his videos (which he denied, which is stupid cuz do you think 18 year olds were the target audience of yhs when it came out??? You don't have control over who watches your videos, but it's Minecraft roleplay, what do you expect lmao) the mod ended up kicking them out (we have bragging rights now for kicking Sam from our server lol).

But, the thing that strikes me odd is the fact that he looked through our chat. Looked through conversations of 14-17 year olds. He's almost 30. Yeah that sounds about right. He was trying to dig dirt on us. Found a "kill me" comment, and thought that yes, we too are as bad as him, because simply saying kill me is equivalent to showing a hanged block man on a video to millions of kids. Nice! Guess we're all cancelled!

Im sure some friends of Sam linger in the server. I've heard he's trying to doxx Mika, a minor, for documenting a conversation that was public in the server. Which is also incriminating.

No one is asking for him to be a saint, or even agree on what should and shouldn't be joked about. Humor is subjective after all, if he really wants, he can keep making those shitty jokes, it would be cool if he didn't! Yet again, young people watch those videos and it's kinda fucked up. But I won't be policing what you can and can't do, I don't have a life but come on I got better things to do lol. The thing everyone is asking for, is proper content warning, literally just add warnings in the description or title. You might find the jokes funny but you can't deny it's a sensitive issue. He warns people for swearing but not for dark humor? It's a bit silly.

Anyway yeah that's some of main stuff that's been going on. Were tired.

[chanyoungies]

bye bye 2020, hello 2021 !!

happy new year everyone!! there’s a lot of people i want to thank for making last year so much more bearable so i tried writing some messages for some of my dearest mutuals this year as well!! (keyword tried because i absolutely cannot put my feelings and thoughts into words. i love you all though and thank you so so so much!!!)

@angelhyunjin : angi!! i know you’re not on here anymore (actually i just found out . i ran to twt to find u as quick as i could!!) but it felt weird not?? putting you on here because you WERE a big part of my year!! i was always excited to chat with you and i rlly rlly loved (still do) seeing your art and your dance covers i can’t believe how talented at both you are!! you are really really lovely and even if it’s been a while i hope you know i still think of you and hope you’re doing well!! this year might have been hard but i hope 2021 will be much nicer to you because you definitely deserve it!! i love you!! 

@cinanamon : stephie!! i think we haven’t talked in a while until we started suddenly bonding over minho but all is well that ends well because now we are the founders of a minho cult and that’s all i could hope for in life i think! we don’t talk that much but seeing your tags in all the minho posts is always a TIME i absolutely love reading them! thank you for being there to lose it over minho, always, but also for being there in general! you are really sweet and i do love to talk to u!! i also know you are a really good writer so i hope 2021 brings you lots of inspiration to write more!! (and i’ll finally catch up on your fics too! hehe) happy new year!! 

@cocogoat : puppy !! i think we haven’t been friends for long actually and that sounds fake because that would mean there was a time i didn’t instinctively check your blog when i woke up in the morning (or the evening let’s be real)?? you are so! adorable and for what!!!!!! i really do love seeing you pop up in my phone notifs and reading your posts even if i dont have any idea what they’re saying half of the time unless it’s dgrp (i cannot believe i have a dgrp friend now. amazing i think i won) u are so funny and so cute and i’m really glad i got to know you because!! you’re such a nice friend that i! love! times can be hard but i hope 2021 is gentle with you because that is! what! you deserve! gentle pats and tight hugs! (maybe that’s why i associate ab6ix’s heaven with you it’s the gentle vibes) <3

@glossiers : miss bri i am in love w u that’s it. no i’m kidding that’s not it i have much more to say . i am in lov w u though #brillie2k21 i think. i think it’s been a surprisingly short time since we’ve actually started talking?? which is kinda crazy if u ask me because?? how the hell did i live my life without screaming BRIIIII whenever i see u on the dash like for real how . that sounds like a life so empty like. that would rlly be missing . something?? anyways u are a dear dear friend that i really really love and i’m sure you know that but i will keep saying it anyway! i’m sure i’m pretty annoying so thanks for putting up with me! and for talking to me! i feel like i’ve said it before but! you are a delight to see on the dash and i lovlovlov talking to u (and sending u pics of my cats, thank u for appreciating them). i still cannot believe u managed to convince yourself i was a hyeongjun stan though. hope i can be convincing enough to clear that up and leave no doubts in your brain this year. anyways i love you and i hope we can continue to be friends and talk even MORE this year!!!!!! happy new year ilu <3

@hwacinth : miss dia my sweet sweet floral nymph real life shirayuki and queen of urls! i am? so so so so so glad that we are friends you literally have my heart it is YOURS i can’t even try to claim it back!! you literally are shirayuki i don’t even know how to elaborate i think it’s just self-explanatory but you are just. such a sweet little sunshine!! it’s like you bring spring everywhere you go!! we could be in a middle of a metaphorical storm but when you appear the skies clear up and flowers bloom wherever you step and i cannot help but smile when i see you online!! thank you so so much for being my little ray of sunshine in these tough times! i hope to see even more of your posts this year!! don’t hesitate to live blog anything you watch in my dms if you feel like you’re posting too much (but i hope you never feel that way because you’re not . love seeing u live post it is absolutely amazing i won’t ever get tired of it)!! happy new year and i love you!! ps only 1 more hour until your birthday HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIA ILUUU <3 I HOPE YOU CAN HAVE A WONDERFUL ONE!! IM SENDING YOU CAKE TELEPATHICALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@hwisgf : sorinaaaa! happy new year!! we don’t talk that much but it is always nice seeing you around! you are vv sweet and i really appreciate that, thank you for taking the time to talk to me sometimes!! you are also probably my only fantasy mutual?? which is terrible on one side because i think everyone should stan sf9 but that’s besides the point . i really do love the fact that i at least have u to talk to abt sf9 if need and i LOVE seeing u in love with hwi it is absolutely amazing. i am forever grateful for all the free hwi pics days too!! <3 i hope 2021 can be a year full of happiness for you!! (also that is also besides the point but @ fnc i want an sf9 cb announcement) ILY!! (and so does hwi)

@inkigayeo : miss vivi galaxy brain happy new year!! we only started talking recently but u do have my heart already!! i hope this year treats you well and that we can get to know each other more and be friends hehe!!!! <3 (my other wish is for u to stop breaking my heart with those fake titles. please . why should san NOT come back explain yourself .)

@jeongcheols : mimi . mimi mimi mimi im literally typing this as u are listening to that ten n dj stage ok now it’s kai ok anyways . ANYWAYS i am loving your sm concert live commentary . criminal is sounding amazing taemin is insane indeed (yes i took a break before coming back to writing this) i truly don’t know what to say?? n i have to keep watching the time so that i can scream HAPPY NEW YEAR into the mic in 14 minutes. but like?? i love you?? like. like for real i don’t know what i would’ve done without you?? also it’s weird writing this for tumblr instead of just in your messages (also i can’t focus with idea playing. idea soty). and i mean. you technically know all of this but like?? i can’t believe we’ve known each other for so long but also such a short time at the same time like. what. thank you for being my bestestest friend and my soulmat i don’t think i would’ve been able to remain sane this year (and last year too honestly) if it wasn’t for you?? thank you for always listening to my incoherent rants and i’m always so sorry for spamming you while you’re asleep i know you must wake up to like 150+ messages with absolutely no connection between them and they’re all just so random i truly don’t know how you manage to not get annoyed and to just stay with me all this time i’m- getting emotional. you had a terrible year, i know it! i really do!! and while it might not be looking too bright right now, i hope the universe hears me and treats you much better in 2021 because!! you deserve so much more!! you deserve the world, really!!! i love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (i would write more really but like what is there to say literally i’m just (your emoji)) i love you for real;;

@nakyngs : ele <3 happy new year!!!!!! we haven’t talked much this year but i do think of u a lot daily i hope you know that!! and i love u a lot! even if i still need to catch up on all your aus </3 i hope 2021 can be a fun and stress-free year for you!! and we should catch up sometime too!! ps i hope your fish are ok

@ncityzen : dear spring fairy!! i already sent you a new year’s message earlier today like what. 6 hours ago but! once again!! i really do hope you can leave the hard times behind in 2020 and only get the best things possible this new year!! i’m always very happy to see you appear on my dash and curious to see your life updates and your random literature-related mini-rants in the tags they are always very interesting to see!! so! hoping to see even more of that this year <3 i hope you know that i love you and i really care about you!!

@woojjongs : MISS IRI! i am screaming this very loud so hopefully u can hear me all the way in canada! okay i had to leave this one for last because i?? don’t really know how to start i’m just a pink glittery puddle with lil hearts flowing in it that is how i feel towards u right now . how does one think and how does one write down their thoughts coherently give me a second. this is going to be a mess maybe u shouldn’t read it (‘accidentally’ forgets to tag u). just know that i decided to play txt’s wishlist to write this and u might be confused by that but all u need to know is that it means i love you very much. OKAY so miss iri you are . such a wonderful pal i truly don’t know what i would’ve done without you like . it would feel so weird not seeing you around tumblr would be so so so so empty i don’t even think you can begin to imagine how empty i’d feel without you around here ksdjbskbds i absolutely adore you but we already knew that. i’m always super excited to see your gifsets and your nonsense!! be it your love for woojong or u missing lim jimin (play m.. 🔪) or your snoo brainrot or hating literally anyone on smtm or whatever else it might be i love it all!! you are so cute and adorable and talented and sweet and funny i cannot believe you also happen to be the prettiest person on earth too. how does that feel! anyways i love you so so so so so much? i keep telling you to hold back from committing crimes but i absolutely WOULD commit a crime for u i really do adore you!! i mean . how many groups did u make me stan . (ok actually i don’t think there’s that many. but STILL) i know i can be super annoying but thank u for taking the time to chat with me nonetheless!! i’m all over the place but . there’s times i come online literally just to check your blog nothing else! i hope we can continue to be friends this year too n perhaps talk more (or the same amount idk please tell me off when i’m too annoying)!! happy new year, i hope it holds wonderful things in store for u!!!!!! and we really are starting off great since victon comeback is approaching <3 (this got way too long i’m so sorry i’ll cut it off now before i write 10 pages)

@xiaocity : miss siya hello hello hello first of all i’m just so very glad that you’re back i l o v e you!!! i love seeing you around be it your gifs or your text posts which yes. i cannot properly understand half of the time but google is my best friend after all! you’re such a wonderful person and i’m just?? really glad to have you around like?? you feel kind of like a cousin i don’t always get to see but am always excited to talk to when i can? this might not make sense but. you are vvv cool and talented and funny and feel very like. reliable? i feel like i am not making any sense so like ignore me. what i’m saying is i really really like you a whole lot and i really hope we can talk even more in 2021!! happy new year, i hope it’s a wonderful one for you!!

@yunwoo : miss anna we haven’t been moots for that long and we haven’t talked much but u are vvv cute and i hope we can become (better) pals this year!! i’m looking forward to seeing u on the dash more often, hopefully!! happy new year <3