#true there is kind of a way to tell the difference between the burnings because they're kind of different... but it's not always the easies

[toastingpencils37]

That moment when your skin's so dry you can't tell if your skin doesn't like the lotion anymore or if it's just burning because of the dryness.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

⋆｡°✩ Do Roommates Sleep Together?

“We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but the delicate foundation you built cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt. “Do roommates sleep together too?”

Synopsis: Your relationship with Xavier is unconventional, skipping and trampling on the many proper steps society deems appropriate. It should take months to form the trust needed to sleep together, and it should take years for you to ask him to move in with you.

Yet, here you are, with more courage to ask him to live with you than to tell him you’re in love with him.

Content Warning: fluff, suggestive dialogue, pining, literal sleeping together, a lot of internal exposition, mild angst, hurt/comfort, acquaintances to friends to lovers, implied soulmate tomfoolery to justify the fast burn, small references to chapter 4 main story, Heartstring Symphony, Nighttime Stroll, Shooting Stars Myth, and Unit 602's Representative Phone Call, Xavier sucks at following the non-interference policy (he tried his best), female reader, 6.5k words, safe for work

A/N: First section before Warm Wishes/Dreams within Reach tender moments and second section after Close Feelings tender moment to give a better timeframe. This is going to be two parts with the second part NSFW.

“Do you want to hang out at my place?” 

Your smile begins to flatten as Xavier stares at you from his doorway. There’s a listless energy radiating from him. It’s intimidating even if there’s no anger behind his hooded gaze, the kind of intimidation where you’re afraid he might not be listening to you or even wants to listen to you.

“This new scary movie came out. Tara was supposed to watch with me, but she had a last-minute thing to take care of,” you explain, watching as he yawns and wipes his eyes. “So, I thought that maybe you’d like to watch with me instead. Or, we can do something else. I got games. Monopoly, Phase 10, Kitty Cards.” 

Xavier rubs at the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eye. “Are you sure you want it to be just the two of us?” 

There are many things to be said about your relationship with Xavier. You’re work partners, neighbors in the same apartment complex, and you consider him your friend. It’s also true that your friendship is young despite the many hours at the arcade together and whatever stories your co-workers like to imagine, making your offer sound more like a date invitation than hanging out. It causes you to go tongue-tied as your innocent mistake blankets you.

“Oh, not in that way! I mean not that it would be a bad thing.” You start to lose your composure when you meet his gaze again. It’s not like you wouldn’t go on a date with him if given the opportunity. He’s tall, soft-spoken, and very handsome. It’s more surprising he doesn't have a girlfriend. “I was thinking it could be a good way to foster friendship between hunters. Yeah, that’s it!”

The truth was that you were looking for something to distract yourself ever since the incident at your grandmother’s house. Tara having to cancel bummed you out more than you wanted to admit, but you didn’t want him to agree because he felt sorry for you.

“I understand,” Xavier cuts in. “I’d be happy to join you…in an hour,” he finishes with another small yawn. 

“Great!” you cheer. “See you soon.”

When you make it back to the elevator, you’re taken aback about how happy you are that he agreed. You thought you were simply happy not to have to be alone on your day off, but this was a different kind of satisfaction than when you invited Tara. It was a little strange but you ignored the thought and clicked the button to your floor. 

When Xavier arrives, everything goes as planned. You spread out an array of snacks on the table in front of the sofa, which your selection seems to be approved by how quickly he opens the package of chips and hums to himself when he takes a bite. 

“This is supposed to be super scary! I read you won’t sleep for days after,” you tell him, grabbing the remote to play the movie. 

“For days? Sounds awful,” Xavier mentions between bites, making you chuckle. 

“If you get scared, you always have me to protect you.” 

“I’m more worried about you than me,” he mouths off. “You always look like a statue when I tell you scary stories.”

“Fake movies and stories based on real places are different!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he agrees on the surface. You’re not sure how you only make friends with people who love to tease you, but you make no mention of it as the movie finally reaches its opening sequence. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize this movie’s fear factor was greatly over exaggerated. There were monsters, sure, but also one too many jump scares and dark scenes that made it hard to tell what was happening. Fighting wanderers for a living did leave you a bit desensitized as well, you guess. 

As you reach to fill in your boredom with more chips, you can’t help but notice how Xavier looks like he’s about to give out any second. His eyes are drooping and his head bobbing to the side. You lose count of how many times he forces his limp body straight and strains to watch the movie playing on the screen, one agonizingly slow blink at a time.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can bring up how tired he looks.

“It’s not a big deal, Xavier. This movie is pretty boring, so if you wanna call it a night, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.” You don’t want him to leave yet but you don't want to keep him up either. Sighing, you’re frustrated the movie isn’t as exciting as you thought it would be, and it’s difficult to fight the disappointment from showing on your face. 

And, well, Xavier…

“It’s alright. It’s honestly not bad, so—”

Xavier doesn’t even finish his sentence before his head hangs over. In hindsight, you start to realize that you must have woken him up earlier, explaining his prior passiveness.

You always wondered what he did on the days he wasn’t working. It should’ve been apparent to you that he spends most of his free time sleeping. No wonder his apartment was always so quiet during the day. You’re thankful he wasn’t actually annoyed at you earlier but guilty for interrupting his rest and decide to grab him a blanket.

You don’t notice him tilting to the side before you have the chance to get up. It’s quick after that. Without warning, he falls into you, his head brushing the side of your shoulder before he collapses on top of your lap.

The situation takes you by surprise, and the world churns to a slow stop. The sounds from the television fade into the background in favor of your heartbeat becoming the thing you’re most aware of when it registers that Xavier, a man you recently can call a friend, has fallen asleep in your lap. You have no idea what to do in a situation like this. It isn’t on purpose, so there’s no need to blow up, but you can’t allow this to continue.

So, you choose to wake him up.

“Xavier,” you call and rock his shoulder. You call his name again, a third time, and finally give up when he doesn’t budge by the fourth. “Would it be too mean to roll him off?” you wonder, grimacing as you imagine him hitting the floor. It would definitely be too mean.

Sighing, you gaze at his face nuzzled too comfortably against your thighs. Xavier looks so incredibly soft like this, bundled in an oversized Blanchi hoodie. It isn’t anything you’re not used to seeing him in. However, this is different. With his hair strewn across his temple and his face so at ease, it reminds you of a big fluffy bunny flopped over for an evening nap. Just like a cuddly bunny, you can’t resist petting him, brushing your fingers across his bangs to fix them. Your heart flutters as you confirm his hair is incredibly soft and his pale eyelashes longer than you ever noticed.

Not able to restrain yourself, you gently poke his cheek, marveling when it’s much chubbier than you imagined. It causes him to moan, his eyes twitching from the intrusion.

“Mm…what?” he groans out.

Swiftly, you pull your hand away, frightened he might have caught you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stammer out, not the best of excuses; but in your defense, he caught you off-guard by waking up from something so small. When he doesn’t respond again, you quickly realize he’s still asleep. “Oh, he sleep talks!”

A mischievous wave washes over you from the new piece of information you acquired. Teasingly, you poke his cheek again, giggling when he shifts to hide his eyes from the light.

“Xavier, I have a question to ask you.” You slide your fingertips along his bangs once more. “Be honest. Are you Lumiere?”

Patiently, you wait for a response. However, nothing comes after several seconds. Just when you’re about to give up hope, you hear him muttering. You lean your head closer, hoping to hear him better.

“Red…” he mumbles.

You repeat after him. “Red?”

“Red…extra spicy.”

You blink at him, knitting your brows. “Extra spicy?”

Oh. The hot pot restaurant.

“Dreaming about food? That tracks.” You shrug. It was worth a shot. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

Choosing to leave him be, you’re about to sit back and continue the movie except you are interrupted by him mumbling again. This time, he whispers your name quietly under his breath causing your undivided attention to fall on him.

“Yes?” you ask.

Xavier sighs softly, peacefully.

“Come home…with me…”

There must be a world record for how fast someone can heat up, and you must have broken it. It’s like someone threw you directly into boiling oil and left you to burn in it. There’s no way you heard him correctly.

Did Xavier really ask you to come home…with him? Is he dreaming about you? If so, in what kind of dream? And why?

These are the questions stumping you. Sure, you consider him your friend, but when did he start to see you as someone close to him?

The more important question is why aren’t you doing anything about it? You aren’t angry about him whispering your name in his sleep nor offended, and it didn’t feel out of place to be close to him, like this, with his head resting in your lap and your hand in his hair. The moment becomes nicer and nicer—treasured—the more times you run it through your head, familiar even, like déjà vu.

There are too many variables for your brain to piece it all together in such a short amount of time. Praying for the tempest battering your emotional insides to reside, you resign yourself to your fate, allowing him to have his peace while your mind completely focuses on the words slipping from his dreams.

When Xavier begins to stir hours later, your movie is long finished, credits rolling as some dramatic music plays in the background. His eyes tighten then relax before he finally opens them, greeting you with hazy blue. He lifts himself into a stretch then rubs his eyes with his wrist. When he finally adjusts to his surroundings, he looks at you with an apologetic sulk.

“Did I…fall asleep on you?” he asks, grogginess still riding his voice.

“Literally or figuratively?” you ask as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him. Shaking your head, you try to ease the tension—the one known by him and the tension inside of yourself—by laughing. “It was both.”

Xavier blinks a few times, turns his head to the screen to see the credits rolling, and snaps his eyes back on you questioningly. “And you let me for two hours?”

“You looked really tired,” you explain, ignoring how hot your cheeks start to get. You couldn’t tell him you got distracted by his cute face. “I didn’t want to move and wake you.”

“I don’t wake that easily,” he states, proudly even. You almost tell him how well everyone knows he can sleep through a typhoon, but it’s drowned underneath the softness of his smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

The look he gives you is so tender, like looking at a fond memory. It brings back the fluttering knots in your stomach from before as you imagine what could be the true reason behind that gaze. What could he possibly be thinking in his waking moments that would make him dream about you?

“Xavier, do you know you talk in your sleep?” The confused and panicked, deer caught in headlights expression, he gives causes you to fidget with your fingers and drop your gaze to your lap where they lay.

His face tinges slightly. “Nothing too embarrassing I hope.”

You bite your bottom lip as his face reddens. He looks so sweetly shy for once, and you’re starting to question if you’re overreacting by confronting him about something as silly as a dream, one that probably didn’t mean much.

“You tried to order food in your sleep!” you tell him with a small laugh, and his shyness melts away.

“I did? What did I get?”

“Red sauce. Extra Spicy.”

“Then, I guess that’s what I’ll get for dinner tonight,” he remarks. He doesn’t laugh but you can see the amusement reflected in blue eyes, which makes you return his happiness. Yet, the calm moment is short-lived as your mind becomes overwhelmed again by questions you were too nervous to ask; and a small piece of you, too afraid to know the answer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing you out of your rampant, clashing thoughts. “You look sick.”

“I do?”

He nods, his expression softening.

”Are you still thinking about everything?" he pauses, his worry becoming more visible as he looks at you. "It must be difficult.” Your head blanks at his words. You weren’t aware Xavier gave you enough attention to notice your mood was different. You thought you did okay coming to terms with everything at least while at work to where he wouldn’t notice. 

“It’s been a pretty rough week, weeks, actually. I haven’t been sleeping well either,” you agree, struggling to keep your mind anywhere else but there. You’re sure you must look exhausted though. Your under eyes have been darker, the days you could convince Jenna you didn’t need any more leave a bit sluggish, and even Zayne warned you not to lose yourself in grief. It’s easier said than done.

What you don’t expect is for Xavier to grab your wrist and pull you closer.

Xavier normally isn’t the one to draw you, or others for that matter, to him. You’re the one who's been taking the steps to get to know more about him. Offering to help him get his plushie, bargaining with him into becoming your partner, asking him to watch movies with you, while he always seems to keep you a little at arms length, not opening up as much as you wish when sharing stories even when sometimes he looks like he desperately wants to before deciding against it.

Your eyes widen when your nose hits the side of his chest. It's strange to have him be the one pulling, failing to keep his boundaries and also testing them. You don’t want to push him away though. You liked this. Maybe because he was handsome. You hear pretty people can get away with anything, but it feels like more than that. Tara might have been right. Maybe you do have a crush on him but you didn’t care the reason right now when it’s so comforting. You can feel his muscles underneath the thick, warm fabric of his hoodie, and the clothing smells so nice. You can’t help thinking he definitely feels like a bunny too.

“Sleeping is much better with someone.” 

“How do you know?” you mumble against him.

“Well, I just had the best sleep I’ve had in days thanks to you. So, allow me to return the favor. I’ll be your pillow this time,” he offers; and surprisingly, your eyes do feel oddly heavy when his soothing voice reaches you. “Relax. I promise not to move for at least two hours, but you can take more if you like.”

”How kind,” you say with a smile, and it feels genuine.

Once again, you get the same familiar sensation from before, that same odd suspicion this has happened once before—or rather it’s supposed to happen? You’re too tired to think about it. You close your eyes to the most blissful dreams you’ve had in weeks.

When you wake up again, it’s not by choice. Xavier is looking down at you, his arm gently wrapped around your shoulders as your head lays on his chest. Your mind is still trapped halfway between being awake and asleep when he begins to talk.

“Welcome back. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “Real well actually."

Xavier says something else but your tired mind misses the majority of it aside from the fact it’s getting late.

“You can spend the night if you want,” you tell him, allowing sleep to win back over as you try to close your eyes again, but he lifts you away from him, your head swaying with the motion until you find a place to prop your forehead on his shoulder. Your mind echoes with the thought of how soft his hoodie is and how you need one like it as you try to drift back off. Xavier is right. Sleeping with someone else is better, and this closeness you’ve been missing since you lost your family makes you needy. 

“It probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”

For some reason, it hurts to think he's back to pushing you away. Even though, it shouldn't.

“But you didn’t get a chance to watch the movie,” you reply, looking for an excuse for him not to leave. “It’s a 48-hour rental, so we can try again.”

Xavier shakes his head, gently poking at your forehead to force your head back. “I’m sure it’ll be twice as boring for you the second time.”

“If we watch it together…”

He meets your foggy gaze apologetically. “I don’t think we’d get very far.” 

“We won’t know until we try,” you argue drowsily. 

“You don’t look like you’d make it another ten minutes. You belong in bed.”

“I can,” you whimper as the too-bright lights of the overhead fan hit you. 

“Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result,” he murmurs softly, almost teasingly until his tone takes on a seriousness you’re too lethargic to grasp, “Isn’t that insanity?”

“I like to call it determination. Who knows? Maybe this will be the time it works,” you joke. Instead of the smile you expected the look on his face is pensive and a little sad, like you touched a delicate spot. The sudden remorse wakes you up almost immediately. “Xavier?”

When he realizes you’re watching him, the longing in his gaze melts into something you can’t describe, other than the fact it makes your heart climb in your throat. 

“Alright,” he agrees, much to your surprise and relief. “Let’s try again…but tomorrow.”

Frowning, you avert your gaze, which makes him pet your head. 

“Don’t pout. Tonight, I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

Maybe your grandma wouldn’t have liked you getting so close to a man you didn’t know much about so quickly. Caleb would at least have a few questions, but your intuition tells you that you’re making the right choice when his arm goes back around you. As you start to drift off, you can swear you hear Xavier laughing at you under his breath. “You’re as impossible to say no to as always.”

You’re not entirely sure what time Xavier went back to his apartment that night, but the next morning you wake in your bed, looking forward to seeing him again. You only hope the sweet and confusing fact that you’re in love with him, of the parts he shows you when you’re alone, stays in your dreams the next night and the many nights following that you share with him.

Over the months, as your relationship with Xavier grows stronger, you find it common to share many things with each other. You play online games, house sit for one another, grow strawberries, and usually go home together after your deepspace trials. Most interestingly, you two take naps together on your days off sometimes, nothing sexual about it despite what Tara and her Tarot cards believe. Sure, there might have been questionable situations, but it was all innocent in the end. It's often a short nap in the afternoon after running errands or having lunch together. It's one of those days that you finally build the courage to bring up what's been on your mind for a while now. 

It's late when it happens.

The skyscraper lights begin to glow through your balcony door, blinking out the gentle shimmering of distant stars that managed to cut through the trickling rain earlier in the evening. It’s a little disappointing to lose sight of the stars. They’d become a comfort for you in the time you’ve spent with your friend. You'd never given them much thought before then.

The downpour of rain splattering against the glass panels of the balcony makes the city lights milkier to your sight and the steady dripping of water returns some form of calmness when paired with your neighbor’s breathing next to you.

It’s deep and warm, ushering you towards the world of dreams. Everything about Xavier is like a white noise or a desperately needed hug, which is why you’re curled up at his side in this bed that’s too small for the both of you. You didn’t care, and you suspected Xavier didn’t either.

He didn’t mention the smallness of the bed when you offered to take a nap together nor when your head found the bulge of his bicep to use as your pillow. You didn’t give him time to respond when one of your hands slid across his lean chest, reaching for his always subtle pulse. You find the lazy pattering easy to count while the heat in the sheets become much more apparent when you feel the weight of his touch cradle that very same hand to his chest as if promising every beat to you.

Everything about the situation causes your eyes to flutter with tiredness, but you want to savor this moment a little longer. In case this is all an elaborate dream. You hope to death it’s not. So, you force your eyes to remain open, releasing a soft sigh instead as you cuddle into his arm.

Too soon, you feel Xavier slipping further away from you.

You don’t want him to go yet. More than ever, a force inside you needs him to stay tonight, and you lock your grip on the white knit shirt he wears. You tug him back over to you to close this unbearable distance he made. The few little inches he moved were more than enough to cause your heart to yearn.

“Not yet,” you want to plead but make it a soft demand. “I just found the perfect spot.” You muffle the neediness of your requests into his skin, though your head is afraid that somehow he’ll feel it.

“You always use that excuse.”

“And it’s always true. So, no moving,” you order.

Xavier gives in so wonderfully quickly. Your heart is rapidly firing when the corners of his lips turn into his usual waif-like smile. You fail at hiding your satisfaction at his surrender, pressing more of your weight against him, in a sure sign to him that you have no intention of letting him escape any time soon.

“I take this to mean you’re finally admitting it’s your fault we didn’t do our errands today?”

“I never said that,” you disagree half-heartedly. “And don't pretend like you weren't the one who kept saying he didn't feel like getting up earlier.”

“And now that I do, you won’t let me up. Am I right? Why’s that?”

There’s a beat skipping in your chest when he asks. His tone is light and open, easy to treat as a teasing joke but also firm enough to be taken seriously. That was always your trouble with him. You could never quite tell what he was thinking and when he was serious. Xavier is hard to understand sometimes, sometimes vague and sometimes very straightforward in his words; and lately, you think he’s consistently more hot than cold towards you ever since the first time you've slept together.

You like to think this development is a good thing. People who knew you always said you worked a little too hard, a little too observant, overly energetic despite your fragile heart; but with Xavier, you could relax. Moments like these: when his arm was around you and when his breath was at the side of your neck, the soft words he speaks in his sleep dancing in your mind, were the moments when patrolling for wanderers and every loss in your life from your family to your problematic heart dissipated into the back of your mind for a few hours.

It isn’t an exaggeration to believe his influence must have been the cause, at least when it comes to this. But your influence is seeping into him as well. Given his loner habits when you first met and his frequent disappearing acts, you never pictured him as one to be so sweet and considerate and adorably charming in a way.

However, you can’t tell him that you enjoy…sleeping with him. You have a strong feeling he already knows how much you like him. Or, you’d like to think he does with the way he constantly seems to hint at it. He can make you flustered with a few words and easily leave you guessing if you’re reading too much into his actions or if he’s really that good at baiting you. It could also be a little of column A and a little of column B, which somehow makes you more antsy around him. Like how you feel now when his eyes meet yours.

“It’s supposed to be cold tonight,” you whisper. It’s a poor excuse but the only one you can use to defend yourself. “They say the best way to fend off the chill is body heat. Who better for that task than you, dear partner?”

“Many things, I assume, a portable heater comes to mind,” he says, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s slyly teasing you behind that naive tone.

“Right, right, those things,” you grumble causing him to laugh as you hide your bashful face against him. “So loud, you know?”

“Are they? Alright, then five more minutes should be doable,” he says in the same low voice that makes your insides boil before his arm lowers to curl around your back. “Although, you’re too comfortable.”

His ears tinge in a lovely rose-colored blush, and you shudder when he finally fails to maintain eye contact and quickly scans your body. It’s slow enough for you to catch though. It makes your chest tight as you watch his quiet inhale and the murky flash of want dye his eyes shades darker before they fade back into clear pools of blue, big and pleading as he studies your face. 

“I might end up falling asleep here.”

It’s a warning, to make you think about the meaning of your actions, you think. However, this isn’t the first time this has happened nor the first time you spent a rainy day inside with each other; the kitchen counter lined with empty take-out trays, with his body heat radiating into you while a long-forgotten movie plays in the background.

It’ll continue like that until one of you is finally coherent enough after drowsy naps to try to piece together who fell asleep on whom first or who is making the other too hot. Neither of you wants to accept the fault without a lot of bickering; that’s if Xavier doesn’t fall back asleep mid-debate.

Even this time, you’re not sure who managed to drift off to sleep first earlier but neither of you tried to get up, let alone leave the house, until now. Ah, but it was your idea to use the bed this time, wasn’t it?

But it was his choice to agree.

Even now, he looks very peaceful nestled with you, and he still whispers your name in his sleep sometimes, which reminds you of the first time you slept together and he dreamt about wanting you to come home with him.

When you’re like this, you want the same thing. You want him to come home…with you.

“Xavier?” you ask quietly. You wonder if he’s fallen asleep already like he said. Carefully, you free your hand from his hold, slide it up his chest, and begin to draw smooth circles with your pointer finger once you reach his cheek. There’s a soft response from him, barely a moan but it’s enough to know he’s not out of it yet, at least not completely. “I’ve been thinking.”

The air is suddenly stifling when he engulfs the top of your hand with his own, holding it tighter as if he’s upset that you moved it out of his grasp in the first place, but it’s not the case as he affectionately seals your palm against his cheek.

“About what?”

The look he gives you makes it hard not to stumble over your thoughts like a schoolgirl despite being very much an adult.

“Wouldn’t…” You pause to steady your voice; you have to force yourself to not avoid his gaze, but each small movement makes your throat tighten. There’s no doubt you have his full attention now, at least what little remains of it. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we…move in together?”

You’re not sure where the courage to ask him a question like that comes from when you’re too unsure to even confess or to ask what the two of you even are but you didn’t have this fear of rejection until now.

“How would it be easier?”

“Well,” you start, unsure why you’re surprised that he’d want a reason. “We’re always visiting one another, and you made me your representative at the tenant meetings, so everyone already treats us like we’re a combined unit. It would also save me trips on watering your plants when you’re away or when you want to come over to eat. We could save money. Money that could be spent at the arcade or on more hot pot.”

There’s a quiet atmosphere that makes you too uneasy. The thrumming of rain grows louder in it along with the beating in your chest that’s telling you that this was stupid. Is it possible to be drunk on endorphins? Perhaps that’s what gave you the idea to ask something so foolish; you’d have to get Zayne to examine your empty head and tell you.

But then, Xavier smiles.

“Those are good reasons especially more hot pot, and I’m sure all the plushies would feel better if they shared a home again.”

Your anxiety lessens and you share in his smile. Luckily, you managed not to ruin everything it looks like.

“But.” Slowly, the inklings of self-doubt begin to return. A but. There’s always one of those. You should’ve expected as much. “If we move in together then we wouldn’t really be “neighbors” anymore.”

“Oh, um—” You become staggered by his observation, even more so when he interlocks your fingers. It’s another time when you’re not entirely sure if he’s being serious or not. His innocent puppy-eyed expression doesn’t help you differentiate either. It always makes your mind wander to more inappropriate topics—like the fact Xavier told you he didn’t believe that other neighbors acted like you two. The memory nearly makes you squirm. In this position, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but that delicate foundation cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt.

“Do roommates sleep together too?”

There’s a shine of amusement that makes his face glow and heat claw higher up your neck. You know the question should be taken literally but when he words it like that…with that warm implicative inflection to his voice, you’re unable to think properly, and you realize that maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt this time.

“I’m sure some do,” you answer with some courage, “I’d imagine at least once a week.”

“I believe we’re up to twice a week now. So, if we become roommates, I think we have to do it at least that many times, otherwise I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer.”

“Two times?” you repeat, silently begging the flapping of butterflies in your stomach to calm down at the suggestion, at the implication that he enjoys sleeping with you just as much as you do with him. It makes this strong emotion in your chest blossom even further. “I can manage that.”

“Additional proposal,” he interrupts suddenly. “Perhaps, three times? I can even throw in a pair of those fuzzy socks that I can never manage to find after you visit,” he adds coyly.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re around your apartment somewhere,” you quickly respond before releasing the buildup of nervous air in your lungs. You smile. “Proposal accepted. Shared naps three times a week minimum.”

“In that case,” he breathes in softly, and he slips his hand down releasing all your fingers except for your pinky that he wraps into his own. “I think I would like to be your roommate.”

Inside, there’s unadulterated joy beginning to flood you. You know that this agreement will require a more in-depth discussion that Xavier will probably try to gloss over but this is enough for you right now.

“We should take tonight to practice for our move.”

Confused, you raise your eyebrows. “Practice?”

He nods.

“Sleeping together overnight. We did a few times before, well, only twice in the same bed, once in yours and once in mine,” he explains. You definitely have the clearest memory of that time, of bandaging his wounds, of cluelessly pinning him down shirtless on his bed before he turned the tables on you, and then—you remind yourself to resist going over the details, not with him this close to you. Somehow, Xavier is the one who looks the most insecure between the two of you. Finally, he whispers, “I haven’t forgotten even if it was a long time ago.”

His eyes are half-lidded, cloudy with thought. Something about him looks restrained and longing but it disappears when you finally swallow your swelling emotions and call out his name. There’s a twinkle of adoration that blows away whatever doubt there as he focuses on you again.

“I think about it when I have a hard time sleeping on overnight missions.” Xavier turns and slides his arm from under your head, choosing to lay on his side to face you. “It makes it a lot easier to rest in the hunting zones when you have good memories like that. So, it's nice to have a chance to make more."

“I don’t think I could fall asleep at all if I thought of something like that,” you admit, as close to an admission of your love for him as you could muster without mountains of alcohol. “I’d just think about how much I’d rather be home with them.”

“And now? Are you having trouble sleeping?” he asks huskily, and you have to fight not to keep staring at his lips and the dire need to kiss them as you breathe each other in. You reach out, touching his bare collar then instinctively searching for his slow pulse, counting it to calm yourself from the rush of adrenaline building in you.

You’re not even sure when you breathed out the “yes” that echoes softly from your mouth. His lips are so close to yours that you’re sure he could catch it in his breath if he wanted.

“How about I tell you a story to help you fall asleep?” He sees your hesitation and laughs under his breath. “I promise it’ll be much better than the last one.”

Accepting his offer, you agree to listen to him.

Xavier nods and gently swoops the back of his hand against your forehead and then your cheek before cupping it. There’s a gentle squeeze, and you think you understand why he likes it so much when you do it.

“Once, there was a beautiful queen and a knight,” he begins. “They lived together in a palace far away.”

“And they fall in love and live happily ever after?” you question, too busy in the full and fuzzy sensations filling your being to hold back.

“No, they were separated from each other for a long time,” Xavier corrects but his expression softens at the trickling concern building on your face. “Don’t worry. They meet again and become neighbors.”

“And then?”

“They become roommates,” he states matter-of-factly, which causes you to chuckle at him. You can’t even be bothered to care that he’s poking fun at you.

“Then, happily ever after?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answers, causing you to frown and your face to wrinkle with a sullen expression. His head tilts further into the plush of the pillow. “But you can help me figure out the ending.”

Feeling exhausted from the cathartic flow of emotions from him to you, you wiggle into him and throw your arm across his waist. “There’d probably be a lot of naps and stargazing involved,” you mumble before a tiny yawn.

“Sounds like a happy ending to me. It's good to finally see it,” he agrees, and you sigh when you feel a strong squeeze around your waist. “Although, you forgot to mention the part where the queen promises to not get out of bed without waking him this time.”

You giggle. “She promises not to get up without her knight.”

Content, he hums. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"I think so after a story like that," you confess, reaching out to brush his hair back so you can see his eyes more clearly. "Then again, I always sleep good with you."

"You’ll sleep best when we're close, right?"

You gasp when he shifts on top of you. His lips briefly brush your forehead, by accident or not, you can’t tell as he pins you between himself and the bed. With a stutter, you call out his name yet he pays no heed as he nuzzles his head into your hair.

“Good night, roommate.”

“Xav-!” You pout when he instantly slumps against you. There’s no point trying to wake him up now that his five minutes of alertness have long expired.

Settling your chin against the top of his shoulder, you hook your arms under his to hug him against your chest. Your forearms settle at his mid-back as you hold him close so you can gently brush the ends of his hair.

When you ultimately decide to give in minutes after him, it’s to the warmth of his weight on top of you, the tickle of his hair against your forehead, and the increased pulsing of his heart. Xavier was right, this is too comfortable. Letting your eyes fall close, you wonder if three times a week would really be enough to satisfy this strangely familiar craving. You only wish that the two of you could meet in your dreams like he says, but it's enough knowing you'll have each other in the morning and then on.

“…Good night, Xavier. Sweet dreams,” you whisper before you too give into sleep’s spell.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hey girl! I absolutely love your work. The way you write Desi reader is phenomenal

I was hoping you could write a Lando fic where he and Reader go to a trampoline park for a date and he's live streaming. He sees that she's very sweaty from all the fun and he comments on it and she says "as if you could make me this sweaty, Norris" AND IT GETS CAUGHT ON CAMERA

If you're not comfortable with the last part maybe only the trampoline park date?

Sweaty Opportunities ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

ᰔᩚ ln x reader 🧸ྀི

ᰔᩚ fluff + humour + smau 🧸ྀི

masterlist ☾☼

date days were y/n's favourite, even more than date nights. of course, date nights had a different class of its own. with the wine, and the fine dining, and the pretty dresses and suits that always end up on the floor of the living room because they couldn't wait to make it to the bedroom. it was amazing, definitely.

but, y/n tended to enjoy the date days more. it contained of spending the entire day exploring, eating, and just being kids. they would be in far more comfortable clothes, and would walk around hand-in-hand everywhere. most of their date days were usually lando's ideas, and they were always something reckless and exhilarating. it always made lando's face a pretty red that y/n could never stop kissing.

this particular date, lando had told her that he was going to be making another landolog since it had been a long time. y/n had readily agreed, well aware of how much lando enjoyed making the landologs.

"babe, are you ready?" his voice called out from the living room.

"coming!" y/n replied, trying to get her anklet untangled from her sock so that it didn't break.

lando stood at the door of the room, with the camera in his hand, "chat, this happens every time! i tell her we need to leave at 12, she starts getting ready 12!"

"liar! i was ready to go before you!"

"apparently not, seeing that i've worn my shoes and everything, and you still only have on sock on," lando teased.

"my anklet got stuck again," y/n looked at him with the best puppy eyes she could.

lando sighed, always unable to resist her cute face, "fine, hold the camera,"

she smiled, making a funny face at the camera before she turned it around to record lando. the man had knelt on the floor, and was focused on getting her anklet untangled.

"he's such a nice boy, taking care of me. mumma approves of you too, na," y/n cooed at him.

lando smiled, shaking his head at her, knowing that she was making fun of him. he made a sound from the back of his throat, acknowledging that he heard her. y/n ran her fingers through his hair, talking in the camera how soft his hair was, and how she was envious of it.

"alright, done," lando said, as he stood up after untangling the anklet. he offered his hand to y/n, and she took it, standing up. lando pulled her close to his chest, the camera stuck between them.

y/n laughed, "lan! you're crushing the camera!"

lando pressed a kiss to her lips, and said, "well, they didn't need to see that anyway,"

the two grabbed their essentials, still bickering and bantering, laughing into the camera, as they left the apartment, and into the car.

the camera recorded the couple singing (read as: screaming) taylor swift songs on their way to lando's surprise date location.

"where are we going?" y/n asked.

"we're almost there, lovie. a little more patience."

"look who's talking about patience!" y/n turned towards the camera, and said, "this man has the least amount of patience i've ever seen, okay?"

"that's not true!"

"you almost burned down our home because you decided to set the oven at double the temperature because you thought it would cook quicker!"

"logically, it makes sense!"

"its a miracle we have a roof over our heads, lando!"

he laughed, a loud, shrieking kind of laugh. 

pulling into the parking lot, lando turned off the ignition, and quickly grabbed the camera to catch y/n’s face change from confusion, to understanding, to childlike excitement. he knew this was one of the few places y/n had always wanted to come to, and now, she would finally have the opportunity. 

“you got me to a trampoline park!” y/n shrieked. 

lando winced at the loud sound, but smiled nonetheless, “happy date day, baby!”

y/n wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s neck, the camera forgotten on his lap, as he hugged her back. “thank you, thank you, thank you!” she whispered. 

“i love you,” he whispered back. 

she kissed him, letting him know that she loved him too. 

getting out of the car, y/n jumped excitedly as lando laughed, holding the camera. seeing lando lock the car, y/n immediately began running towards the entrance. zooming on the camera to show just how far she had ran, lando said, “chat, she’s a little crazy, but i’m so head over heels for her,” 

following y/n inside, lando handed her the camera as she showed the place around and yapped. meanwhile, he paid for the tickets, and walked to where y/n was. she had been standing by the popcorn machine, talking to the camera like she was talking to another human. sneaking behind her, lando wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. y/n laughed, but let him walk towards the entrance of the trampoline park.

she set the camera down, angling it towards them, as the couple removed their shoes, and stored it in one of the cubicles. 

“so, how long are we here?” y/n asked. 

“well, it’s three hours of jumping and bouncing-” 

“that’s what she said,” 

“-and then we go out for lunch, and have cheesecake for dessert, and back home, where we can either sleep or do other things if we have more energy,” lando finished. 

y/n smacked his arm, “you better edit that out!” 

“you’re the one with the dirty mind! i just meant we could bake something or have a movie marathon!” 

“you’re lying, you liar!” lando laughed as he ran from y/n’s smack attack. 

grabbing the camera, he ran inside, immediately bouncing and gaining more speed than y/n. but, she wasn’t far behind. though, once she began jumping on the trampolines, her smack attack on lando was quickly forgotten. the couple went through every zone the park had to offer, playing trampoline basketball, jumping into a ball pit, and obstacle courses that were almost everywhere. 

y/n pushed lando often, laughing every time he fell and bounced back. lando returned the favour. they challenged each other to stupid things, like who could jump the highest. 

“it’s not fair! you’re taller than me! of course, you jumped higher than i did!” 

“that sounds like a you problem, lovie!” 

“bitch!”

or, they challenged each other to who could fall the farthest in the ball pit. 

“i totally won!” 

“no, you didn’t! you moved the balls from the sides, so now we don’t know!” 

“oh, quit crying just ‘cause you lost!” 

“you lost!” 

most of the challenges were unfair for y/n, given that lando only proposed the ones that would benefit him, and in her excitement, she wouldn’t realise it until after she lost. she did try to trick him and win, and that worked. lando said it didn’t count, but everyone knew who the boss was. 

“ready? three, two, one, go!” 

“ow, ow, ow, ow,” 

“lovie? you okay? what’s wrong?”

“i think i twisted my ankle,” 

“oh, baby, lemme see,” 

“ha! tricked you!” 

“wha-? hey! no fair!” 

“sorry, can’t hear you from the finish line!” 

their friendly competitions had resulted in red faces shining from sweat, and bright smiles. the day was exactly what they needed, and y/n had plans to show just how grateful she was to lando for planning such a date. they exchanged kisses, played with the other kids in the park, and tried to outdo one another. it made y/n fall more in love with lando. 

the camera facing towards them, lando watched as y/n jumped on a trampoline square behind him, spreading her arms and legs, making a star every time she was in the air. 

“you’re so sweaty,” lando commented as he looked at his girlfriend’s flushed face. 

y/n smirked, “it's because of the jumping around for three hours. as if you could ever make me so sweaty, norris,” 

his mouth fell open as he processed her retort. she laughed at his expression, and began jumping away. lando quickly grabbed her hand and said, “as if i could ever- come on, we’re going home,” 

“what? why? we still have lunch left!” 

“nope. i’m going to show you just how sweaty i can make you,” 

y/n laughed but followed. she wasn’t going to pass on an opportunity like this. she’d never.

lando.jpg

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lando.jpg i CAN make her that sweaty

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hi! i tried to make this desi!reader, but i just didn't find a lot of places where i could incorporate that, so i tried my best to stick to a neutral, imagine-what-you-like character. i hope you enjoy this! i've also got a link for my taglist, prompt list, and all of that you can find here!

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Personal Issue

summary: santi invites you to his hotel room the day after your engagement to talk. he says the unexpected— that he’s in love with you.

prompt: "Why did you never tell me?" "It was a personal issue." "You being in love with me kind of also involves me." - @creativepromptsforwriting

pairing: santi garcia x f!reader

contents: get together fic, best friends to lovers, simp!santi (he’s lowkey a lil pathetic but i love him), angst, mental health issues/thoughts of dying, cheating, kissing

wc: 1,966

an: a teeny tiny something bc i miss santi. thanks to @ivystoryweaver for the beta <3

oscar characters masterlist

"Why did you never tell me?" You demand, unable to keep the horror out of your voice.

Santi ignores the way your tone scrapes at the wound in his heart— the wound that’s always been open because of you. Always fresh, unable to heal because of you. You always seemed to be just out of reach, slipping through his fingers for one reason or another.

"It was a personal issue,” He reasons, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He can hardly look at you. It’s humbling. He’s never had an issue with charming a woman, but you aren’t just any woman. You’re his best friend. There are too many eggs in this basket.

You scoff, crossing your arms against your chest, "You being in love with me kind of also involves me."

“I didn’t— things were different before.”

“Different,” You test the word, not at all buying it. It feels like bullshit. Like a cop-out.

“Yes, different. We were kids, and then I was gone all the time.”

“No, Santi, you can’t do this to me.”

Santi smiles, though there is no humor in it. You’re right— he shouldn’t be doing this. Not today, not any day, but he’s finally reached his limit. It’s now or never.

“I don’t really have a choice, now did I, cariño?”

You glare at him, about ready to rip his head off because that‘s not true. You and Santiago have known each other for most of your lives— and you’ve loved him for at least half that. He could’ve told you days, weeks, months, years ago that he felt the same. But in true Santiago Garcia fashion, thinking only of himself and the consequences that sit right in front of him, he’d told you today.

Today wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t the day after you’d gotten engaged. No, Santi chose the day after you’d finally given yourself to someone else completely, the day after you promised yourself you’d settle and try to stop loving him. What you’ve wanted for years and years on end has finally come and now it feels like some sort of cruel joke.

“That’s one of the most heinous lies you’ve ever told.”

“The Colombian government would disagree.”

“You know what— get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see you ever again. I can’t believe that you think you can just waltz right in here and—“

Santi takes two long strides towards you, closing the gap between you so that he can cup your face. “Tell me no. Say it. You have to say it to me.”

“Santiago, please,” You plead softly with him, your eyes round with fear. Your hands reach up to grasp his, making futile attempts to pull them away. “Don’t make me choose.”

Santi leans closer, the tip of his nose ghosting yours. His eyes are darker than usual, burning into you, a little angry— though he has no right to be— and a little desperate. “Why? Why not, hmm? He’s not that important, is he? Because you know you’ll choose me, don’t you?”

“Stop. Stop. Do you know how unfair this is? How fucked up it is for you to tell me this?”

Santi’s grip on your face tightens— it’s not painful but it’s frantic. You can feel the urgency in his fingertips. “Yes. Yes, I know. And I’ve always wanted to be better for you. I want to be a good man, I want to be worthy. Not some fucked up guy who’s better at killing than he is at telling the woman he loves how much she means to him. But, I’m not.”

“You could try.”

“I have. Don’t you get it, baby, I have. Yesterday when I saw those pictures. When I saw this—“ He tangles his fingers with your own, twisting your hand so you have to stare the ring sat on your finger in the face.

It glistens and gleams like it taunting you. It’s exactly what you wanted— the right cut, the right material—sparkling even in the dark. Your stomach churns at the sight of it. You shouldn’t have said yes, that much you know for sure. When you went back to your apartment last night you sat in the shower, your tears disguised under its spray. And when you had emerged, you’d made yourself a promise. To be a good and loyal spouse to the man that had actually chosen you.

“It drove me fucking insane. I lost it because I’m losing you. I had to try. If you say no, I’ll never come back. I’ll take assignment after assignment but if there’s even a small chance, baby, that you could still love me— because I know you did…I know you do.”

“I don’t want you gone forever, Santi. I said that because I’m angry.”

“You have every right to be.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Then what do you need, huh? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. Whatever you want.”

There’s more than one answer to that, but you have to give him the right answer. You’d just promised yourself last night that you would move on. Who knew that he would make it so difficult.

With a soft, shaky breath you say, “I…I need you to let me go.”

Santi goes dangerously still, his breath catching. “What?”

“I need you to let me go,” You repeat gently, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face him. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

The words sound syrupy in his ears, far away and unreal. He looks at you with confusion. “You want me to let you go?”

“Yes.”

The sharp anger and desperation in Santi’s eyes fade away, leaving his features soft and round and sad. So markedly sad. He lets his eyes trace your face for memorization; lips and eyes, the slope of your nose. He leans in to kiss your forehead, letting out a soft sigh.

Santi has done wrong by so many others and even done wrong by you. But this he’ll do right. If you want him to let you go then he will. He’ll let you walk out of here and never look back. Maybe he’ll get so involved in his work that he won’t think of you or this moment ever again. Maybe something will take him away completely. He flinches at his thought— it’s been a long time since something that has floated around in his mind like that. Taking a step away from you, he lets you go, fingers aching with the ghost of your skin against his.

You rest your face in your hands for a few moments, trying to pull yourself together. And when you straighten, you’re sure not to look Santi in his, just in his general direction. You’re broken enough and meeting his gaze would surely cause you to fall apart.

“Thank you, Santi,” You whisper, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

He gives you a stiff nod, “Anything for you.”

Why do those words feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart? If he meant them, then why did he wait so long? Why did he do this to the both of you? Your vision blurs a bit with tears and you quickly grab your coat from where it’s laid on his bed, taking deliberate steps towards the door. Your hand lingers on the doorknob— are you sure that you want to do this? To walk away from the man you’ve always wanted?

“Wait,” He calls after you.

You freeze, but don’t turn towards him— that would be asking for trouble. Trouble you are trying so fucking hard to avoid. “What is it?”

“I just— I have to say it to you one more time because I don’t know if I’ll be able to again.”

“I told you I didn’t want you gone for good, Santi. We don’t have to do this, you can just let me walk away and we can act like it never happened,” You say, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself more.

“I don’t think I can promise to stick around. I can’t watch you marry someone else. I’m not gracious enough, querida.”

“Okay,” You whisper, the tears in your eyes starting to fall.

“I…I love you. I always will.”

Silence falls between you two, an empty cove. Santi hopes that it’ll be enough, that somehow, miraculously you’ll turn around and run into his arms, telling him that you love him too. Instead, he hears a soft sob and watches as your hand rises to wipe at your face before you straighten up and step out into the hall.

When the door shuts behind you he feels like he’s drowning. Like he can’t breathe. His heart is thrumming loudly in his ears, and he crumbles, letting out a groan as his knees hit the ground.

What the fuck has he done? Lost you forever, and told you that he can’t stick around. That was the last time he would ever see you. A world without you is one he’s sure he doesn’t want to be in.

He’s completely paralyzed with fear. He’s not sure how long he sits on the ground like this, shocked and still, but eventually his body starts to ache so badly he’s unable to ignore it. He crawls to the bed, reaching up to rest his weight on it and lift himself onto it. Here he can rot until he can no longer. Until Frankie or Will or Benny come to bang down the door and figure out what the hell is wrong with him.

It’s not long after that that someone does start knocking on his door. Has it been days? One of them was here already. Santi feels like it’s been minutes and weeks all at the same time, time stretching and squeezing in a way that feels unreal. It takes real effort to rise out of bed and make his way to the door. He doesn’t bother to check who it is, opening it with no reservations.

Maybe he died of starvation or dehydration. He must have been lying there much longer than he thought because it’s you. You’re standing at the door, tear-stained and so goddamn beautiful. This has to be heaven— except he’s undeserving.

“I love you too,” You blurt out.

“What?”

“I love you too,” You repeat. When Santi says nothing, staring at you in a daze you start to ramble. “I tried to go home and I couldn’t sleep. And then I drove around a bunch but I couldn’t stop crying because how am I supposed to live my life without you? Then all of a sudden I was here again. I love you, Santiago.”

“You love me.”

“Yes, I love you. Are you okay?”

Santi feels like his body has recalibrated. “Am I— get over here,” He murmurs, reaching to pull you into his room and crushing your mouth to his.

He presses you against the wall, covering your body with his own as he completely devours your mouth, forcing his way in and sucking at your tongue. All you can do is melt into him, hands scrambling to find purchase in the fabric of his shirt so that you can clutch him closer. His mouth is firm and so sweet. You want to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him for the rest of your life. Something in your brain reminds you that maybe, just maybe, if he loves you as much as he claims he does you will. It has you giggling into his mouth.

He grins into the kiss. “My kissing is funny, is it?”

“Funny isn’t the word I’d use for it but just to be sure— kiss me again?”

“Anything for you,” He murmurs, his mouth capturing yours once more.

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

[eomayas]

cream soda • bbh [req]

pairing: idol!baekhyun x MUA!reader

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! fluff

synopsis: reader is a makeup artist for exo and likes baekhyun in eyeshadow, and he notices

warnings: p in v, pwp (slow burn), teasing, fingering, pet names (baby & good girl), baekhyun being sexy in eyeshadow

a/n: i got 3 different smut requests for cream soda teaser #1 baekhyun 😭 so here you go i hope you all like it! thank you for the requests and support 🩷

his eyeshadow smudges easily due to your hands being shaky. you hope he doesn’t notice, but doubt that he does because he’s busy tapping away at his phone. you swallow and keep working the brush over his eye, blending out the dark colors to create a smoky eye.

you allow yourself to sneak glances at him while he’s preoccupied with his phone. every so often, you’ll glance at him through the mirror, pretending you’re fixing your own appearance but really you’re looking at him.

“okay,” you say, setting the brush down and leaning back from him. “i think i’m done.” you say. he looks up from his phone and gives you a smile. your stomach flips and you swallow thickly, glancing away from him for a brief moment.

“you think? how do i look?” he ask, leaning around you to examine himself in the mirror before settling back with his gaze on you. he looks sexy, edible, and if you had a different relationship, maybe you’d tell him so.

“you look nice, baekhyun,” you say, keeping your true thoughts and feelings to yourself. he smiles quizzically up at you, running a hand through his hair.

“just nice?” he’s playing with you now, you can see it in his features and hear it in his tone. your pulse quickens—he’s figured you out. was it that obvious? you don’t know—you feel caught, cornered. “cause i think i look good.” he adds, the emphasis on the word “good” making you let out a breath. so maybe he hadn’t caught you and figured you out. maybe your thoughts weren’t written across your forehead.

you nod curtly and step away from him, turning around to fix your station. “you do,” you say quietly. you hear baekhyun shift behind you, his presence looming over you. again, your stomach flips and you make the mistake of looking up into the mirror where he’s already looking at you, a smirk on his face.

“what was that?” baekhyun asks, a knowing look on his face. your cheeks burn and you snap the makeup box closed and sidestep away from him, putting a healthy gap of distance between the two of you.

“they’re waiting on you,” you say, not meeting his eye. luckily his name is shouted and he actually has to leave, so you’re able to slump against the counter and catch your breath. you’re always paired up with baekhyun for styling, and recently your interactions have gotten more and more…tense.

you don’t know if you should call it a crush because you’re both professionals, and your job would be on the line. but you’ve always had a thing for him and his silly, flirty ways. he’s always kind to you, asking how you’re doing and seeming truly interested. he’s been like this since you first started working as a makeup artist for exo, teasing and joking with you while you worked on his face. you were bound to catch feelings for him with the way you saw him constantly and the interactions you had.

after cleaning up your station, you assist anybody else who needs their makeup done. the rest of exo has always been kind as well, but you don’t have a similar relationship with them like you do with baekhyun. they’re all polite and professional, and don’t teeter too close to the edge of flirting under the guise of a joke with you.

when you finish helping out, you decide to walk around the set to busy yourself. baekhyun is still getting his photos taken, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you look over at him from afar. baekhyun is attractive, simply put. he’s confident and playful, but right now he’s flat out sexy.

you find yourself skulking over close to the shoot, standing a few feet behind the photographer. you watch baekhyun, unable to take your eyes off of him as he smizes at the camera. he captures the attention of everybody, the other staff members oohing and aahing him as he poses for the camera. if you had half a brain, you’d probably join in, but, professionalism.

you’re snapped out of your baekhyun daze when your name is yelled with authority. “y/n! we need touch ups!” you blink yourself back to reality, looking up and finding everybody looking at you, including baekhyun. he has a smirk on his face, and you feel heat creeping up your neck and face. you part your lips, ready to apologize, but nothing comes out. instead, you rush over to your station to retrieve your brushes.

sidling up to baekhyun, you examine his face, forcing your brain to be in work mode. he talks above your head to one of his members, twisting his head everywhere you don’t need him to be. “baekhyun, could you…” you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “baekhyun.” you say louder and as he turns to you, you catch his chin in your hand to steady his face to do your work.

baekhyuns eyes stay laser-focused on you. you swallow nervously and gently dab at his face, fixing whatever smudges he’s accrued ever since he started shooting. “your hands are shaking,” he murmurs, and you quickly let go of his chin, your grip on the powder press tightening between your fingers. “are you nervous?” he asks, leaning down a bit closer—too close. but legend has it that it makes it easier for you reach him.

“no,” you lie, gently tilting his head to the other side. you go to remove your hand from his jaw, but captures your wrist and keeps it there. your breath hitches in your throat, and you glance around the set to see if anybody is watching. “baekhyun, wh-what are you d-doing?” you stammer, frozen in place.

“helping you. this makes it easier, right? if i move?” he makes a dramatic example of pulling his face away from your hand and moving his head around wildly, before placing it back in your hold, and trying to move to show the differences.

he smiles at you, his cheek resting nicely in your palm. under different circumstances, you feel he might kiss. hell, you feel like he might still, with his close proximity and the way you catch his eyes flick down to your lips quickly.

you blink away your feelings and his gaze, and quickly finish up his face. “done,” you say, letting go of his face and taking a step back.

“do i still look nice?” he jokes, straightening and look down at you. you blush and glance away from him, nodding your head.

“yes, baekhyun, you do,” you say. he chuckles and shuffles away, going back to pose for the camera. you take one last look at him and sigh, your heart slamming against your ribcage.

you’re afforded a break, but before you leave to go out, you pick up your station again. you move slowly so you’ll have more time to yourself, organizing your brushes and foundations by color. you wipe up the counter with disinfecting wipes, even the chair, just to kill time.

picking up the box you keep your supplies in, you walk it over to the storage closet and take your time in there too. it doesn’t need to be organized by any means; any open space on the shelves will work, but you decide to arrange it next to the other staff members items, alphabetizing it properly.

a knock at the door makes you jump and you freeze for a second, praying it’s not your boss or one of the managers coming to yell at you for taking too long to go on your break. you gulp and gingerly step away from the shelf, grabbing the knob to open the door. to your relief, it’s not your boss. but to your surprise, it is baekhyun.

“yes?” you say, gripping onto the door for dear life. you look up at him with wide eyes, shock written all over your face. he smirks at you and you wish he would stop, because all day it’s made you feel things and now that he’s here, in a tiny closet with you and nobody else, you feel exposed.

“i just need some makeup wipes,” he says, leaning forward on his toes. you look up at him, slightly dumbfounded. he could have asked any other person on the set for those—they’re everywhere.

“oh, okay,” you say, turning around and grabbing your box. baekhyun steps inside the closet behind you and you glance at him over your shoulder when the door closes. you two lock eyes and you start to feel hot, chest and face burning now that you’re completely alone.

you clumsily open your makeup box and a few things spill out. “i got it,” he says when you start to bend down. you squeak out a ‘thanks’ and dig pull out the makeup wipes.

when you turn around, you’re met with his exposed chest and the necklaces that rest nicely on it. your feet stay rooted to the floor and eyes stuck on his clavicle, unable to move with how close he is. your chest moves up and down faster than you’d like, nearly touching his with the pace you’re breathing.

“here you go,” he says, his voice low and deeper than before. your eyes drag up his neck, up his jaw to his lip and nose, and finally to his eyes. your breath gets taken away with how he looks, especially with his dark eye makeup.

baekhyun wiggles the fallen brush in his hand, like he’s teasing you. you pluck it from his fingers, the brush shaking between your thumb and forefinger. you offer him the pack of makeup wipes in return, and place the brush back in it’s proper place.

your heartbeat rings in your ears. the tension is thick in the room, and you can’t turn back around to face him. you can barely handle him in public, and now that here’s here with you, alone, you’re not sure you’re going to last.

“y/n,” you feel him behind you, mere centimeters away. if you turn, you’ll bump into him—that’s how small this room is and how close he is to you. you audibly suck in a breath and wring your fingers together in front of you.

turning around, your shoulder comes in contact with his hard chest. he’s closer than ever, looming over you. his makeup is still on, but he holds a wipe in his hand. he extends it to you and you look down at it before meeting his eyes. “you want me to do it?” you ask. you’ve done it countless times before, but it’s different now, because he sought you out. and, again, you’re alone.

he nods. “yes,” he says. you take the makeup wipe and clutch it in your hand. you expect him to lean forward, but he doesn’t so you grab his face like you did before, your eyes roaming everywhere but his. “am i making you uncomfortable?” he asks as you start wiping one side of his face, saving the eyeshadow for last so you can bask in his sexiness for awhile longer.

“no,” you reply honestly.

“are you sure?” he asks.

you nod. “it’s not the word i would use to describe how i feel right now,” your voice is quiet, but he hears you perfectly. you feel him smirk underneath your palm and your stomach flips.

“no?” you shake your head. “what word would you use to describe how you’re feeling, then?” he asks. you slide your eyes to his, your hand stilling against the side of his face. his eyes urge you to respond, to tell him how you feel and you want to, you really do.

baekhyun drags his eyes down to your mouth and let’s them stay there for a moment, making it so obvious compared to earlier when you caught him. “baekhyun…” you say, your voice hoarse.

“that’s my name,” he mumbles, eyes back on yours. your lips part, unsure of what to say, or what’s really going on between the two of you. his face is mostly done, sans for his nose and his eye makeup. you close your mouth and get back to work, ignoring the storm happening in your head.

you let out a small sigh as you get to his eyes, barely rubbing off the makeup. “you like it,” he says matter-of-factly. you only nod and keep gently wiping away at his eyes.

“it looks nice,” you compliment. baekhyun softly grabs onto your elbow, halting your movements.

“then leave it on,” he says. you press your lips together and let your arm fall to your side, the other hand still resting on his cheek. he looks into your eyes deeply, and you manage to keep your eyes on him for the first time today. his eyes go back down to your mouth and he lets out a breath. “can i kiss you?” he asks and the question catches you so off guard that you take a step backwards, dropping your hand from his face.

“w-what?” you stutter. baekhyun sobers immediately straightening up and putting some distance between the two of you.

“y/n, im sorry. i didnt mean to make you uncomfortable—shit, fuck—i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to overstep,” he reaches for the handle and you panic. you didn’t step away from him because he made you uncomfortable, you were just shocked at his forwardness. he doesn’t know how badly you want him to kiss you.

“baekhyun, wait,” you say, grabbing his hand. the doorknob stills in his hand as he looks at you, at your hand holding onto his. “i’m not uncomfortable.” you say, looking into his eyes to emphasize that this really is okay. “i… you can kiss me. i want you to.” you say, swallowing the lump on your throat.

baekhyuns shoulders relax, rolling back. “are you sure?” he asks.

“yes.”

he closes the distance between you, taking your face between his hands. he looks down at you with an intense stare that has your knees getting weak. baekhyun strokes your cheek softly with his thumb before dipping his head down and pressing his sweet lips to yours.

you’re breathless again, your hands finding purchase on his forearms to hold yourself steady. he kisses you slowly, like he’s waiting for you to pull back at any second. you want more, so you skip your tongue into his mouth, baekhyun catching on quickly and letting go of your face to grab you by the waist and pull you closer.

your arms are around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. you can’t really believe that you’re kissing him—it feels surreal.

but you know it’s not when he groans against your lips. “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this,” he says, biting your bottom lip, holding it between his teeth for a moment before letting it go and looking at you with dark eyes.

you’re unsure of how to respond; if you should be honest and tell him the same or play it cool. you decide to just kiss him, hoping he understands that you feel the same if you weren’t doing a good job at conveying it earlier.

you and baekhyun get caught in a weird space, his hands sliding up and down your body, groping your ass but never trying to do anything more than that. he keeps his lips on you, never trying to kiss your neck and you do the same. baekhyun is playing everything safe, offering you an out at every chance. a part of you wants to just tell him that he can do whatever he wants with you, to you, but the other wants to keep it in this space, to not complicate it. but you really can’t help yourself, not when you have him like this.

you move your lips from his mouth to his jaw and down his neck, kissing every inch of exposed skin that his open shirt gives you. you silently thank his stylists and whoever created this outfit.

you kiss down his chest, your hands moving to unbuckle the belt that holds his flimsy shirt together. you fumble with it for a moment before you manage to get it off, and baekhyun makes no move to help you. he likes seeing you eager and desperate for him, because he feels the exact same way.

his shirt falls open and you drag your hands down his chest, tracing your fingertips over the ridges of his abs. you drag your hands down lower, stopping at the waistband of his pants that rest an inch below his belly button. “what do you want to do, y/n?” he asks you, pulling your closer to him by your ass.

you only shrug. you’ll do anything. “whatever you want,” you say, meaning it. baekhyun pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head slightly. he can’t believe this moment, you. and he doesn’t know what he wants more, you on your knees or him buried deep inside of you, watching you fall apart on him.

baekhyun reconnects your lips, this time kissing you with more want. his fingers work quickly to unbutton your pants and shove his hand down the front of you, pressing his fingers against your clothed core. wetness coats the center and his chest swells with pride when your lips part to let out a gasp when he starts rubbing the material into you.

he kisses on your neck and pushes your pants down farther so he can have more access to you. pushing your panties to the side, baekhyun slips two fingers between your folds and you widen your stance, desperate for his touch. a quiet groan leaves your lips when he slides his fingers into your soaking core, your gummy walls inviting him in easily.

you pant as he works his fingers into you. your hands hold onto his shoulders and you lurch forward when he adds another finger into the mix, his thumb rubbing on your clit as hell. “baek- shh,” he says lowly, kissing your lips to keep your quiet. your clench around his fingers and moan against his mouth. “keep quiet, baby. don’t want to get caught, do you?” the use of the pet name makes you whimper and baekhyun narrows his eyes at you.

“s-sorry,” you squeak, putting one of your own hands against your mouth to quiet yourself. your strain, but it’s muffled enough for baekhyuns satisfaction and he keeps working his fingers in and out of you. he rubs at your clit and that familiar knot in the pit of your stomach tightens. your grab onto his shoulder tighter, hoping he understands that you’re close to reaching your climax.

you squeeze his fingers and baekhyun nips at your neck. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby? are you gonna cum for me? all over my fingers?” he mumbles in your ear, gently biting your earlobe. his voice and his words, and the fact that he keeps calling you baby are enough to send you over the edge, squeezing your eyes shut as you release all over his fingers. “that’s right, just like that. good girl.” you don’t like to imagine how pathetic you look when you throw yourself around him, resting your face in his shoulder and gently biting him to quiet yourself.

baekhyun pulls his fingers out of you and you sigh at the loss of contact. you manage to stand up on your shaky legs, holding onto one of the shelves for support. he starts to unbutton his pants but sops himself to look up at you. “i’m on birth control. and i’m clean,” you say quickly and he gives you a small smile.

“good to know, and so am i,” he says, pulling down his pants. you can’t help but gawk at the bulge in his underwear, your mouth falling open at the sheer size. you hastily step out of your pants and panties, kicking them over to the side when he’s undressed as well.

baekhyun pushes you into the wall at the back of the closet and hikes one of your legs around his hip. he lines himself himself up with you and pushes himself in, your arousal working as a lubricant and easily letting him slip inside.

you mewl out his name and he clamps a hand over your mouth. “i need you to be quiet for me,” he says, starting to thrust into you. “can you do that for me, baby? fuck.” baekhyun drives his hips into you and buried his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his own moans. unlike you, he’s more successful at keeping quiet.

all to be heard is deep breathing and skin on skin. you pray it’s not loud enough to be heard through the door, for somebody could walk in on baekhyun balls deep inside of you.

you bite down on baekhyuns palm and he pulls his hand back to shove his fingers into your mouth instead, forcing you to suck on them while he slams into you. you look at him with wide eyes and he curses, tossing his head back and hiking your leg up higher to get a slightly different angle.

his fucks into you relentlessly, chasing his own release and trying to get you to your second. you’re losing it on top of him, spit all around his fingers and some on your chin. his dark eyes look down at you and you keen at him, wanting so badly to have his lips on you again. but he can’t risk you being loud, and you can’t hold it back.

“shit, baby, i’m close. are you?” you nod and he grunts as he speeds up his thrusts. you bring a hand down to your messy core and rub at your sensitive clit, more spit leaking out of your mouth as you moan at the overwhelming feeling. “fuckfuckfuckfuck-“ baekhyun clenches his jaw as he releases into you.

he fills you up, ropes of his cum coating your insides as he stays buried in you. “fuck, you took me so well, baby,” you cum shortly after him, your arousal mixed with his own dripping down your legs. baekhyun pants and drops your leg from around his hip and you stumble, catching yourself on a shelf. “shit, you alright? can you walk?” he asks, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and then removing himself from inside of you.

“i dont know,” you whine, wanting more of him. but you both know it’s time to go back out. your break is probably almost up anyway, and you still need to eat.

baekhyun finds paper towels and cleans you up. you keep your eyes on him as he wipes in between your thighs. you almost sigh at the beautiful sight before you; his soft brown eyes a dark contrast to the dark eye makeup that’s still mainly intact. his hands and gentle beneath you and you wonder if this will last, or if after this moment you two will go back to what you had before, before this moment. or worse, if it’ll be like nothing ever happened; not this moment, or anything that came before it.

as if he can hear your thoughts, he looks up at you and gives you a small smile. he places a soft kiss on your lips and you hold him close for an extra beat. “that was fun,” he says, and just like that he’s back to being himself, not the same man that just stuck his fingers in your mouth and fucked you silly.

you nod, a small smile on your face to match his own. “we should do it again,” he says, picking up your clothes and handing them to you. it’s a silly thing to smile about, but you can’t help it. if this is how you see him again, outside of work, then fine. you’ll take what you can get.

“okay,” you say, stepping into your underwear and pants. baekhyun quickly redresses and waits for you by the door. you look up and see him holding the belt that goes around his shirt, in his hands. it’s not your job, but you take it from him and help him anyway because you would if you were out on the set right now.

“what are you doing later?” he asks as you fasten the belt around his torso. you, i hope, you think. but you just shrug and look up at him. he smiles and places a hand on your cheek. “i’ll pick you up at seven, then.”

and that’s how you get your first date with byun baekhyun.

[gamergirl-niffler]

Taking Care of Haganezuka's Injuries - headcanons

Requested by: @zero-sugar-null

Being a swordsmith's wife is a little difficult, but being Haganezuka's s/o is a whole different story.

He not only gets angry easily but also gets hurt just as easily and of course you are the one to take care of him.

‌Any kind of bruises or cuts annoy him even more than anything else. 

Not because they hurt.... Because they interrupt his work!

"God dammit!" Loud, angry voice fill the forge as a not yet finished sword is thrown across the room. "It's not perfect. I will have to start from the beginning," Haganezuka mutters and suddenly stops at the uncomfortable feeling in his palms. After taking one look at his hands, he can tell what was wrong. He didn't even notice the cuts at first, but they indeed were there. 

So it was time to see you.

‌He is snappy when someone else is offering help.

True. Most smiths hate his guts but still he is one of them, so offering help is something normal, but Hotaru truly hates it!

"Hanganezuka? Maybe you need help?" Someone asks.

"NO! Leave me alone!” He growls in return.

Who the hell they think they are to suddenly offer him help?! Are they looking down on him? That's some kind of joke.

He doesn't need it... Not from them at least. After all he has you.

Any other attempt of helping him ends with an argument. In the end, other smiths stop even trying. 

You are the first and only person he comes to.

At this point, you are pretty used to your husband returning home with his hands hurt in one way or another. Yet it still somehow gets you off guard when in the middle of the day the door suddenly bursts open, and you see a big man in a weird mask while you simply try to enjoy your tea and a day off!

Him showing up isn’t unusual, but after years with him, you know what it means. You put away your nice, hot tea and get up to get the stuff.

‌He doesn't wince or whine. 

Hotaru is just watching you, maybe frowning once in a while, but you don’t really know because of the mask. He doesn't like how it feels when you take care of his injuries, the burning sensation isn’t his favorite, but your touch is great compensation for the moments of pain. 

It soothes the discomfort and immediately makes him feel much better.

Hotaru ALWAYS thanks you.

Each and every time you do this for him, no matter how many times and for how many years. It's a really simple, polite gesture, but it's important for him. 

He is fully aware he isn't the best pick for a husband, yet you picked him for some reason, so it would be only fair to show you how grateful he is.

"Thank you," he says after raising his mask to place a kiss on your forehead and then cheek. 

Hotaru often thanks God for the mask, because your sweet reaction makes even this angry man blush. 

‌Sometimes you scold him.

You understand his craft is important to him, but some days he takes it too far. Getting his hands all cut and bloody, you can't pat him on the head for that!

"How can you do this to yourself? Love, I admire your work and dedication, but you can't keep it up."

He scoffs at your words. "Someone has to make sure you slayers won't fight with bare hands."

"I know that and thank you for this but working so hard is stupid."

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT?!” Hotaru quickly gets defensive.

Scolding sometimes turns into heated arguments between the two of you... Ups...

LET'S REVERSE STUFF A LITTLE

You are a demon slayer, so you make sure the village as well as smiths in it are safe. What means: going against demons, what means: sometimes you get hurt.

‌ Information of you getting hurt is one of few things that pull him away from work.

Yes, he is always deep in his work, but the simple mention of you getting hurt makes him drop everything. He needs to know how bad it is? Are you alive? 

So he drops whatever he is doing (even if it means starting from the beginning again) and goes to see you.

‌If it's possible, he helps you himself. 

Haganezuka isn't a master of taking care of others. It's hard for him, but he watched you work so many times, so he follows exactly those patterns. 

He cleans your wounds and wraps them carefully, just like you do with him. 

Also get ready for a kiss on every wound you have, after all kisses make it all better, right?

‌If it's not possible, he entrusts you to a person who knows what to do.

But this process is full of yelling and threats. 

"You better take good care of her! Or I will deal with you myself! She is my wife, remember that!” 

Sometimes even other smiths must hold him in place for the safety of others.

‌He scolds you as well.

That's another thing you should get ready for. Hotaru is your worried husband, so he has a right to do so when his wife isn’t careful enough.

Right after sweet kisses, he will scold you for getting hurt.

"How could you be so stupid!,” He mutters, annoyed. "You should be more careful. You're a demon slayer, not some child with too sharp toy! Being careful should be your priority!"

"B-But..." You try to argue, but you are quickly cut off by him.

"NO BUTS, Y/N,” He snaps at you. "You need to remember about your own safety. Keep other slayers and villagers safe but remember about your own safety too!"

You just sit there and listen, nodding from time to time. It's obvious your husband is worried, and you won’t argue with that. It was understandable, you do the same when it comes to him.

--------------

In the end, you care about him deeply, and he cares about you even deeper. Each of you try to keep the other safe and provide help and/or comfort whenever it's needed. 

It's just a simple proof of how much you love each other, and neither of you is going to complain. 

Both of you love it so much, actually.

[pepstarvanmoon]

Someone please get El out of there

Is it not obvious what this is? Do you really not know what you should be doing? SAY THE DAMN WORDS.

Why do you think she’s doubting you? Can you really not tell?

Mike, sweetheart, your relationship balancing skills are a terror to your friends, family, and romantic partners.

This is why people found Midleven cuter in S1/2, because the day you made it official marked the beginning of El’s doubts in your feelings for her.

You cannot seem to grasp that El is your friend AND your girlfriend, and somehow treating El like a girlfriend equates to treating her like shit.

You cannot make this up. El needs WORDS because Mike’s ACTIONS actively make her feel unloved. She does not feel it, so she wants some kind of verbal/written affirmation because of how emotionally distant Mike feels.

(someone talented please edit Elmike to Hamilton’s Burn or send an existing edit my way, thank you ♡)

His actions do not align to her expectations of love, not that it’s a good idea to let TV define romance for you, but you’re allowed to want/expect certain things in a relationship, and El isn’t getting that.

And let’s not act like Mike isn’t good at making people feel loved/cared for. Will is in love with him for a reason. El loves him for a reason.

(It was difficult to pick scenes for this because I’ve read arguments for how these aren’t really romantic at all, but from 12/13-year old, “fresh out the lab” Eleven, it’s as romantic as romance gets imo)

El has been trying to convince herself that their relationship is better than it is, because once she admits to herself that it’s not working, what does she do?

Her day-to-day life isn’t that great. Sure, she has her new family in the Byers, but her dad recently passed away and she’s being bullied at school. She has no friends outside of Will, and while I’m sure their relationship is great (wasn’t explored that much tbh), he can’t keep her from feeling isolated, and his own trauma with bullying keeps him from standing up for her.

One good, unchanging thing she has is her relationship with Mike. He’s the one who took her in and housed her, he taught her what it meant to be a friend, and… I’m having a bit of trouble here lol. I was going to say:

Never used her for her powers (not true lol)

When she was burnt out, he never expected more from her (not true LOL)

Never treated her differently for her powers (for this one, he found her awesome in an awestruck way rather than a Brenner “I’m gonna exploit this” way, but when he thought she lied about Will/hurt Lucas he was on her ass lmao)

My girl has those ‘first love’ blinders on. I keep having to ask myself what she sees in him besides ‘first person to accept me + we kissed’ like besides the latter, Dustin was right there. A lot of the parts of Mike I enjoy don’t reveal themselves around El outside S1 (barely S2). He’s shown as caring and protective, but he’s like that for all of his friends?? Especially when they’re in danger so idk what’s different. I’d have to peruse the milkvan tag to get a hint, but I’ll probably get a better idea watching Sleeping Beauty.

I’m a firm believer that Mike kept it ambiguous because he didn’t want to admit what the real problem was to Will.

“I couldn’t tell El that I love her.” - simple as that. Must be something about Will that has him holding his tongue because after S3 I doubt he’d have that much trouble telling Lucas.

Are you embarrassed? If you thought it wasn’t that serious you wouldn’t have told Will that it was something you “can’t come back from”. Is love serious to you, Mike? Because you can’t love El in the way she wants, do you think you’re incapable of it? Do you feel wrong? Do you not want Will to know?

Hit a little too close to home, huh.

(and let’s not get into the "team, friends, best friends" scene they had together like what was the point in having them make contact a SECOND time.

They already established a connection between them. Mike could’ve asked to be a team after the "guess it's gonna be up to us again," and Will could’ve taken the painting offscreen (the focus shot of Will grabbing the painting gets me so bad like WHY), but instead they wanted them to blush and giggle over each other AGAIN before they got to the van.

Make it make non-Byler sense I'm begging.)

You’d think that’d be good enough, but Mike still feels conflicted and has to make it Will’s problem (actually, Will kinda made it his problem. The way they shot the triple take makes it seem like Will dragged Mike away for another talk because of how spacey he was being. Who knows.)

Tf do you mean you didn’t know what to say? “Maybe if I said that thing” so you DO know? It’s painfully cut and dry if you take emotions out of it. El wants Mike to say that he loves her, so to fix this, to come back from that fight, Mike has to say he loves her.

Why is it such an internal battle for him? If I were to take it at face value, I’d chalk it up to what he said in the van scene.

So your solution is to push your relationship to a point that has El crying and throwing all the loveless letters you sent to the floor? To tell her that she’s incredible and a superhero and that she should know how you feel about her because, despite the tears streaming down her face and her DIRECTLY asking you if you still love her, she must know how amazing she is too?

NEWSFLASH, Queerler! She’s learning just how much she doesn’t need you right now, so I guess it’s time to face your fears!

This isn’t what I meant, but go off ig (don’t, actually, this is awful for everyone involved).

No way you expect El to buy this. You’ve expressed this fear of "losing El" to Will, I’ll give you that, but nothing you’ve done IN FRONT OF EL has conveyed this. Your letters weren’t helping, and you being there in person only made it worse.

Eagerly awaiting the day Michael Wheeler stops lying.

Well, I guess he doesn’t lie ALL the time.

[foxtrot91]

shovel talk

“So,” Maddie says, eyes squinting as she looks Tommy over, wine glass cradled in one hand while the other rests on her hip. 

They’re in the hallway of Bobby and Athena’s new place, and Tommy doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that she’s catching him in the bathroom hallway just as Tommy’s about to return to the party. Remembering another conversation at another party, he suddenly wishes he was holding a slice of cake; though he gets the feeling Maddie wouldn’t be easily deflected with it, Hen certainly wasn’t. 

“Are you looking for the bathroom?” He asks instead, tossing a glance behind him. “It’s right over there, second on the left.” 

He gives her his best grin; just because he knows this conversation is inevitable doesn’t mean he has to make it easy on her. Her eyebrows raise and Tommy thinks someone so small shouldn’t give him the same feeling as being dressed down by his sergeant once did. He hopes for Chim’s sake that he doesn’t find himself in the doghouse too often. 

“So,” she says again, ignoring his directions to the bathroom. “I was just thinking that we haven’t really had a chance to properly meet.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, still suspicious about where this conversation is going. “I guess we haven’t.”

It’s true, it’s only been a couple months since he and Evan got together and between their differing schedules and the drama going on behind the scenes at the 118, there hadn’t been much time for larger get togethers. For the most part, Tommy and Evan have either spent their time just the two of them or hanging out with Eddie in an effort to keep his mind off of Christopher’s departure. Which, thank god that has since been resolved, for awhile there Eddie had been a bit of a basket case. There had been the wedding, of course, but even a normal wedding doesn’t leave time for the bride and groom to spend much time with individual guests, and there’s had been anything but normal. 

“You know, Buck was really nervous when he told me about you,” she says, eyes glittering as she looks him over before taking a sip of her wine. 

“Coming out to someone you care about will do that to a person,” Tommy says simply, eyebrow raised. 

“Of course,” she says with a soft chuckle before continuing, “it made me realize that he’s never told me about any of his other relationships before.” 

“Oh?”

“I mean, I knew they existed and I knew their names, but he never once talked about them, I barely even knew a thing about Ali. Even Taylor, she was his longest relationship and I barely heard a word about her. Then there’s Natalia who was barely a blip.” She pauses here and takes another sip from her wine before shifting her gaze back to Tommy. “Actually, there was one person I heard a lot about, even if I never got the chance to meet her.” 

“Abby,” Tommy says, figuring with what he knows of Evan’s relationship history that she’s a safe bet. 

“Mmhm,” she hums, nodding in agreement. “But since that first day he told me about you, you’re all he talks about now.” 

Tommy feels warmth bloom in his chest at that admission, the thought of Evan feeling happy and secure enough in their - admittedly young - relationship to talk about it with others leaves him feeling pleased. 

“It kind of reminds me of how he was with Abby, actually,” she continues, “before he’d accepted that she was gone I got to hear all about her, almost felt like I knew her.” There’s a bit of a wistful edge to her voice, though Tommy can tell it’s less about Abby and more about Evan's happiness. “He hasn’t been that way with anyone since, at not least until now. So I guess you could say that as his big sister I thought I'd better check to make sure that he’s not going to wake up one day and find you’ve suddenly discovered a burning desire to – I don’t know, Amelia Earhart your way around the world and leave him behind.” 

Her voice grows firmer on that last bit as she pins Tommy with her gaze, eyebrow raised. Despite the teasing edge still present in her voice, Tommy can tell she’s serious, and truthfully, he can’t say he blames her. Eddie once told him over a shared six-pack that Evan has abandonment issues the size of the moon, and everything he’s learned about his past relationships - both romantic and familial - supports that. If Evan has avoided talking about past girlfriends, Tommy wonders if it had anything to do with a fear that they’d leave him behind too. He wonders what that says about the fact that he apparently talks about Tommy with those closest to him.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Amelia Earhart's disappearance is a pretty strong deterrent for that. Also— can’t do Muay Thai in the sky,” he says, unable to resist responding with his own personal brand of humour. Maddie doesn’t respond during the pause he takes to gather his thoughts, her face giving nothing away. “But... the truth is, that I can’t tell you the future, I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, let alone six months from now.” He pauses, suddenly wishing he had his own glass of wine to occupy his hands as he contemplates his next words. “What I can tell you is that I didn’t step into this lightly, and that I care about him a lot.” He takes a moment to let the truth of that sink in before adding, “and for what it’s worth, if you talked to any of my friends, I’m pretty sure they’d tell you the same thing, which is that I talk about Evan so much that they’re probably sick of hearing about him now.” It's true, Sal barely manages to repress the eyeroll whenever Evan's name comes up, and Angela and Jenkins have started a drinking game during Trivia Night based on how often Tommy says his name. It's made them terrible at trivia. 

The beat of silence that passes between he and Maddie isn't exactly uncomfortable, but he does find himself holding his breath a little wondering if he passed. He has the idle thought that she’d be good at poker with how little she’s giving away with her facial expression. But then, a smile stretches over her face, and Tommy finds himself sighing in relief. This was different than his talk with Hen and Karen that had obviously been more teasing in nature. While Maddie may have done a good job in keeping her tone overall light, Tommy’s under no delusions that she wasn’t serious in sizing Tommy up to determine if he was fit to date her brother.

“Good,” she says simply, and then tilts her head slightly towards the kitchen. “I need a top-up, and you seem like you could use a glass, have a drink with me?”

“Absolutely,” Tommy agrees, his own grin stretching across his face.

He follows Maddie into the kitchen where she grabs a second glass for him before pulling out the wine she and Chim brought – a merlot – and pouring him a glass before topping off her own.

“So, you’re a pilot,” she says, a statement, not a question.

“I am.”

“Could be handy having a pilot in the family,” she comments, eyes twinkling, “Chim said you flew Eddie to Vegas.”

It's said nonchalantly, with a hint of expectation but before he can respond, Evan’s rounding the corner, clearly having heard at least part of their conversation. “Oh no,” he groans, “you do not get to commandeer my pilot boyfriend so that you and Chim can have some private date weekend in Vegas.”

“I said no such thing,” Maddie claims, hands raised, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“But you thought it,” Evan says accusingly.

Tommy watches them, barely suppressing his own laughter as he grabs a potato-chip from a nearby bowl to munch on. He lets them go back and forth, trading verbal jabs in the way all siblings do before he takes his moment to jump in.

“I’d be happy to fly your sister to Vegas,” Tommy says, grinning at Evan’s indignant look and Maddie’s triumphant one.

“Thank you,” she says, voice overly sweet as she pats Tommy on the hand before picking up her glass. She starts towards the door, presumably to rejoin the others, but he doesn’t miss it when she leans in and whispers to Evan, “he’s a keeper,” before smacking a kiss to his cheek as she heads out the door. Evan’s face softens at Maddie’s approval, and Tommy’s does too.

Evan joins him at the table, cheeks pink as he swipes Tommy’s glass to steal a sip.

“You disappeared on me,” he says, looking up at Tommy. “How bad was it? She give you the third degree?”

“It wasn’t bad at all,” Tommy says honestly, “I like that you have people who care.”

“Hm,” is all he says, though Tommy can tell he’s at least a little pleased by it too. “Still, we need to have a talk about how you’re supposed to take my side in arguments with my sister,” he adds, semi-serious.

Laughing, Tommy stands from his seat and comes around the table, offering Evan his hand before pulling him back towards the door. “Evan, the only useful relationship advice my dad ever gave me was to ‘get in good with the family.’” He adds air-quotes and deepens his voice for effect. “Of course, he thought my relationships would look a lot different, but the advice is still solid,” he says, before adding, “besides, I like your sister, and flying Maddie and Chim to Vegas for a weekend would also mean flying you and I there.”

Evan perks up at that, “yeah?”

“Separate hotel rooms, of course,” Tommy adds, letting his smile take on a suggestive edge as they open the door to the balcony.

“Separate hotels,” Evan says, his own lascivious smile spreading across his face.

Whatever their faces are doing as they join the others must make it obvious what they’re both thinking about because the next thing he hears is Chim saying; “Mm, I don’t like that look, too reminiscent of Buck 1.0. Does anyone have a spray bottle? Gotta squirt him like an overgrown tomcat before he gets outta control.”

Tommy lets the subsequent laughter at Evan’s indignant squawk envelop him, somewhere in the background he hears Christopher question what Buck 1.0 means and Eddie insisting he doesn’t want to know. Tommy finds he’s enjoying himself, even if the laughter is at their expense. He wasn’t lying to Evan when he’d told him before that he’d been jealous of the family the 118 had become but for once, Tommy isn’t jealous. He doesn’t need to be, because this time he’s a part of it.

Read on ao3

[david-talks-sw]

So that whole interaction between Ahsoka and Huyang, where they talk about Sabine's choice to help the enemy find Thrawn (in hopes that she can then find Ezra) is clearly meant to be subtext for what happened with Anakin.

I mean change the pronoun from "she/her" to "he/him", tweak some of the names and...

... it's just blatant.

The parallels were already clear in the previous episode, as pointed out in this post here, and it still holds true:

Sabine's struggle with attachment mirrors Anakin's.

We know Filoni's whole stance on why Anakin fell to the Dark Side: he'll usually acknowledge that Anakin was ruled by his attachments, got possessive of Padmé, but then adds:

"HOWEVER is loving that way really that bad?"

"HOWEVER he never stood a chance because Qui-Gon wasn't there to teach him properly and be the father Anakin needed."

I've already gone into why both these statements don't track with Lucas' intended narrative here and here... but I wanna touch on this notion that "Anakin wasn't trained enough to make a better choice."

He was.

You know how we know? Because we saw him overcome his attachments before.

We saw him explain the theory of the non-attachment rule, before.

In fact, wee saw him pass down a lot of the Jedi lessons, in The Clone Wars, including being disciplined, following orders and not acting impulsively.

The issue is that - while Anakin knows the theory, even has a few minor successes applying it - he never builds the self-discipline needed to master it because... deep down... he doesn't want to.

This is partially because you got Palpatine telling him he doesn't need to, molding him into an arrogant, power-craving person... but the fact remains that Anakin made the choice himself.

Which Filoni acknowledges, sure... but not quite. The difference between his thesis and George Lucas' is that the latter picks a stance and defends it.

"He started out as a very loving and compassionate person. And as he progressed, it was his inability to control his temper, his inability to let go of things, and his quest for power that were his undoing." - George Lucas, E! Behind the Scenes - ROTS, 2005

Anakin fell because he was greedy, just like any one of us can be.

Cool. Filoni, on the other hand, doesn't seem to land anywhere.

He dances around the issue (as can be seen by the debate between Ahsoka and Huyang, with no clear winner) and merely questions whether it's as simple as that.

Clearly he wants to justify Anakin's actions to some degree... but y'know, the narrative considers those actions so reprehensible that Anakin gets friggin' burned alive for it.

"I felt it was important that we actually see that happen so that we could see the consequences of these bad things that he did. […] He forces his friends to turn against him. Which is heartbreaking." - George Lucas, “The Chosen One” Featurette, 2005

Because Anakin's actions are not meant to be justified.

It's easy to see why Filoni likes Anakin. One of the earliest tasks he had when writing The Clone Wars was humanizing a character whose sole functional purpose was to carry out a narrative about how:

"Without self-discipline, greed [can] force a character off the path to freedom." - Micael Hearn, The Cinema of George Lucas, 2005

And Anakin is a very sympathetic character.

His flaws are flaws that we all carry.

Q: Is it fair to assess Anakin is kind of cursed by his own goodness/good qualities? "I wouldn't say that’s true. He’s cursed by the same flaws, and issues that he has to overcome, that all humans are cursed with. There's a lot going on there. [...] The whole point is—and the reason I started the story where I did—is that Anakin is a normal, good kid. And how does somebody who is normal and good turn bad? What are the qualities, what is it that we all have within us that will turn us bad?" - George Lucas, Star Wars Insider #52, 2000

But narratively, Anakin is selfish.

He doesn't want to save Padmé's life, he wants to save himself from the pain of losing Padmé.

And while you're supposed to sympathize with him, you're not meant to agree with him. He's Darth Vader, the space nazi. He messes up and consequentially "leaves the Force in darkness" for 20 years, instead of ushering it towards the light in the chancellor's office, when he has the chance.

So to shift the blame and say that...

HOWEVER, Anakin didn't have the proper support system or training to make a better choice.

... when the whole point of the narrative is about taking personal responsibility and being selfless instead of selfish... well, it is missing that point.

He did know better. He just didn't want to choose better, so he convinced himself he wasn't able to.

[daisymbin]

hii!! It's my first time requesting but I really love your works!! Can I request 8 and 29 from the angst prompts with Vernon?? Thank you!!

hello!! thank you for requesting & your kind words!! 🫶

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

angst prompt #8: "was anything real between us?" +

angst prompt #29: "stop pretending you care."

the silence was unbearable. you had texted him every day since you last saw him, the messages slowly piling up without a reply. hansol had always been distant at times, but this... this felt different. no casual texts, no updates, nothing. you tried calling. nothing.

then seungkwan’s text came through.

“hey, just so you know... hansol’s hurt. he didn’t tell you?”

your heart stopped. you had to get to him. now.

the moment you arrived at hansol’s apartment, the door was cracked open, and you pushed your way inside, breathless and frantic. you found him sitting on the couch, his leg propped up, wrapped in a thick bandage, looking utterly defeated. his usual energy was gone—his eyes hollow and tired.

“hansol!” you rushed over to him, kneeling in front of him. “what happened? why didn’t you tell me? i’ve been worried sick—”

“worried?” he repeated, voice cold. his eyes didn’t meet yours. he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “you’re worried? that’s rich.”

your chest tightened at his words, but you pushed forward, trying to stay calm. “of course i was worried. why wouldn’t i be? you’re hurt, and you didn’t say anything. i didn’t even know—”

“yeah, exactly,” he snapped, cutting you off. his voice broke, though he tried to mask it with anger. “you didn’t know. because you never care, do you? you only care when it’s convenient for you.”

you flinched, his words stinging deeper than you wanted to admit. "hansol, what do you mean? i do care. i've always cared."

“stop pretending, alright?” he said bitterly. “stop pretending like you actually care about me. we both know it’s not true. you think i don’t see it? you’ve been keeping me at arm's length this whole time. we were never anything to you.”

the words hit you like a slap in the face. the sting of them burned, but you didn’t pull away. you couldn’t. “that’s not true. i didn’t... i didn’t keep you at arm's length. i didn’t know what you wanted. i thought we were just... having fun, but i care about you more than you think. more than i’ve let myself admit.”

he shook his head, but this time, his eyes flickered with something softer, almost broken. “you never showed it. you always pushed me away when things started getting too close. and now… now you’re here, pretending like you actually give a damn.”

you felt the panic rise in your chest. “it’s not pretending, hansol. it’s not. i care about you. i’ve always cared. i just—i didn’t want to screw this up. i didn’t know what we were, but... i didn’t want to lose you.”

there was a heavy pause. he leaned back, eyes closing for a moment, and the silence between you felt suffocating. “so what? was it all just... just sex to you? nothing more?”

you swallowed, trying to fight the lump in your throat. “no,” you whispered, voice breaking. “it wasn’t. i was just... scared.”

hansol’s hand trembled, and he ran it through his hair, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “we were never anything real, were we? just... some weird thing that we never bothered to define. i don’t even know why i’m so surprised. i should’ve known.”

“no, don’t say that,” you said, your voice rising, desperate. “don’t say we were nothing. don’t say i didn’t care. i was afraid of this... afraid of actually letting myself feel something real. i’m not good at this, hansol. i don’t know how to make you see that i care. i don’t know how to show you without scaring you away.”

he turned his head, locking eyes with you. for a moment, you saw the confusion, the hurt, and the frustration all tangled together. “you think you’re the only one who’s scared? you think i’m just some... some guy who doesn’t feel anything? i don’t know what i’m doing either, okay? but you pushed me away every time i tried to get closer.”

you didn’t know how to fix this, how to take back everything you had pushed aside for so long. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i just didn’t want to make a mistake. but now... now i’m terrified that i already have.”

hansol's expression softened, the anger fading from his eyes. it was still there—lingering, but he was more vulnerable now. more open, somehow. “it’s not too late, you know,” he whispered.

you blinked, unsure of what he meant. “what do you mean?”

he hesitated for a moment, then let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the couch. “i’m not mad,” he said quietly. “i’m just... i was just hurt. i never wanted to be this guy who pushed you away. i didn’t want to be the one who made you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me.”

“i was scared of losing you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “i didn’t want to ruin whatever this was between us. but i don’t want to lose you, hansol. i don’t want us to be nothing. i want us to be real.”

his gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes that felt like hope. “you really mean that?”

you nodded. “yeah. i do. i care about you more than you know. and i’m ready to be honest about it.”

he smiled, but it wasn’t the playful grin you were used to. it was different—more genuine, more open. “okay,” he said quietly. hansol shifted forward on the couch, his eyes meeting yours, no longer guarded. “then... be honest with me, okay? let’s stop dancing around it. i’m not asking for anything perfect, just for you to let me in. i want to try—really try.”

you took his hand in yours, squeezing it lightly, your heart pounding. “yeah,” you whispered. “i want to try too.”

he gave you a soft smile, one that made the weight of the last few days lift from your shoulders. “good. because we’ve been going in circles, and i’m tired of it.”

“me too,” you said, the words feeling lighter now.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and then you reached out, touching his hand. this time, he doesn't flick you off.

[inkskinned]

there's this video you've probably seen already where a woman is shaking in front of a microphone and delicately tries to ask - how can i make my husband listen to me, i've tried everything, i don't want to seem ungrateful and the other man laughs - the problem is that you married a man, we're only listening 25% of the time and we only understand 5% of that! and the audience laughs and the woman laughs and you just sat there, phone in your hand, letting the sound of it echo

and the thing is that people make think-pieces about it (isn't this one of them) and satire versions and "flipping the script" which is good and fun but at the end of the day, there's some truth in that man's response about men-not-listening. and you have tried to language that feeling for years, this sense that you can only take up 33% of a conversation before others view it as being "dominating".

it's not that they aren't listening, it's that the action they're taking is purposefully silencing. it's different. you accidentally-don't-listen a lot; just because the world is loud and you're distracted. you don't mean anything by it. and the truth is that the man who spoke is relying on that to be true of you; the way it's true of everyone. but there is a different undertone to his kind of not-listening. what he means is they don't respect you and you shouldn't expect them to. there is a difference between oh shit i forgot to take the trash out and why didn't you remind me to do it, just like there is a difference between i didn't realize you wanted to go out this weekend and why do you expect me to plan things why can't you just tell me where we're going.

and the thing is that it isn't just him, and it's actually not just because of your gender - your skin, your class status, your weight, their ableism - it happens often. so often it feels like a tightness around your throat and a weight in your stomach. you're not even "really" allowed to be upset about it, because to them it's a joke. and they laugh. and you know exactly the amount of work that goes into every conversation. how you have to work to condense down your thoughts into intelligent, crisp soundbites; worried someone will try to swoop in and cut you off. and there's this sense from everyone else - oh stop being so sensitive, are you really upset just because they weren't listening and you don't know how to say the way that feels when it happens constantly.

there's that video of the science summit where a woman in the audience finally says let her speak please! and the whole crowd bursts into applause and the man leading the summit holds up his hands and bows his head and says oops, sorry! like what he did was awkward and embarrassing, a little social gaffe that happens easily. later in your meetings, you're asked to take notes, and you don't say anything, you just hear let her speak please! ringing in your head and know that you'll never be brave enough for that kind of thing. and besides. think of all the people who agree this was a one-off, he just got excited and all of the people who say one man is not indicative of all of society

at the dinner table you're talking about someone you don't like and how he's not good to his girlfriend and how she always has to remind him to put the effort in and before him, she was glowing with curiosity and passion but now she just seems... tired, unhappy. that he likes the way she burns out; she stays home and takes care of him and their 2 kids. and your father sniffs and says that men take a while to learn those kinds of things. and you just stare at him and think about your childhood and are like - no wonder i turned out like this

and you want to say - there's no fucking secret school or mystic form of communication. i was not sent to Rearing a Child University. i did not graduate from Getting Chores Done College. i ask questions and i listen and i pay attention, because that's basic fucking human decency. it stems from respect, and how i respect others and their agency. i clean the house because someone should clean. not because it comes "naturally".

hell, you had to google "how to boil an egg" the other day, just because you usually make them scrambled. you can never remember which of the 2 bathroom cleaners make chlorine gas, only that two of them definitely do. you've accidentally bleached your clothes. it took you like 3 years of self-teaching before you figured out how to actually cook things correctly - for that whole time, you burnt or undercooked everything. but you did teach yourself; just like you taught yourself how to listen with empathy. just like how you taught yourself to think before you speak. to be kind first, to be better at communicating. it seemed like a good thing, an adult thing.

the joke the man in the video makes is that women say i'm fine! when they are not fine. and you think about the 150 conversations that happened around that; about how she probably has had so many arguments with her husband. how she said i'm upset you don't take me anywhere and he got mad at her because of course i do, you made me go to that stupid restaurant like last week and she probably said that's not what i'm saying and he said now i'm supposed to be psychic or something and she said no of course not and he said how am i supposed to know what to do when you don't even like everything and she said i do like things and he said well how am i supposed to win? and her pastor probably told her to be more grateful because they do things at all, even if she has to plan them and her mom probably told her that's just how men are honey and she probably cried over her journal, trying to figure out why the fuck she "has everything" and is still so bitterly, horribly unhappy

and how, in your life, for so many reasons, you looked down the barrel of another argument; of explaining yourself and being vulnerable and begging for help again. how many times you just said i'm fine because it was better than doing that again; it was better than wringing yourself out when it's literally easier to just pretend. because he wasn't going to listen. your father wasn't going to be better and your boyfriend wasn't going to be better and your boss wasn't going to be more respectful.

and you sit in front of a video of a woman shaking, looking horrible and guilt-wrought that she's even asking this question. and you know; deep in your heart - that's you. in a different life, you are her. you've stood in her spot. and you had to listen while someone else cackled - why would we bother to notice when you talk?

[revehae]

i’m not asking you to write for wonbin but if you ever do js know i wiillllll be there !

yall have finally did it yall have won yall have Cracked me i hope youre happy bc i kinda am… i had this idea before he cut his hair now im feeling like that one harry styles fan tweet and i don’t even stan fr

warnings: drug use, addiction, is this dubcon idk

wc. 670

dealer!wonbin x (f) rich!reader.

wonbin knew you wouldn’t turn down his offer. not in the state that you were in, moody and tense as ever. the girl he’d seen around here and there at parties hadn’t come back around, not since he’d first seen her bump a line or two, and she’d been replaced by you.

what you had become over the months, at least.

not that wonbin would have it any other way. he liked having you kind of dependent on him, knowing he was the first person crossing your mind when you needed a fix. but the brief interactions, meeting you at a party or somewhere shady at night, your car window rolling up as quickly as it had gone down, weren’t enough anymore.

“no.”

“no?” you repeated, like the entitled, spoiled rich girl you really were deep down. wonbin had to give you credit, you cloaked it well, but when you were desperate, you showed your true colors. “what do you mean no?”

wonbin grinned playfully, in a way that he knew would aggravate you. “i mean, i set everything aside for my buddy, and i don’t have enough for you right now.”

you rubbed your nose and ran a finger through your hair, exhaling exasperatedly. “well, tell him to wait. i need it more than he does! is he paying you? i’ll pay you twice as much!”

there you went, offering him your pocket money, throwing it away like it was nothing just for a second of your high. but wonbin didn’t need your money. selling cocaine to recklessly needy addicts like yourself was a very lucrative business.

he shook his head. “sorry, that’s not gonna cut it. but i thought of something better.”

you were in the middle of losing what was left of your mind when wonbin said that and your eyes immediately snapped back to him, fixed to him before he could even get the words completely out.

“i’ll give you two grams if you let me fuck you,” wonbin said casually, a wild grin tugging at his lips. “six grams if you let me do it raw.”

you were a little reluctant at first, but wonbin wasn’t surprised when you finally caved, thinking to himself, that was too damn easy.

because he was nice, wonbin let you snort a line before he touched you, but he was on top of you not a second later. in spite of that, he didn’t move like he was in any particular hurry, snaking a hand up your shirt and pressing his lips against your lips. then your neck, your collarbone, your belly. almost affectionately, almost.

it started to work you up quickly, and you even got annoyed, tugging at his hair, but wonbin didn’t care. matter of fact, he could feel his body getting hotter, burning a thousand degrees. he wanted to savor every second of you, every touch of you, every smell of you.

wonbin really liked the smell of you. the sweet scent helped masked the madness underneath when you were like this. he leaned in to sniff your hair, your neck, your clothes, your hands.

it made his dick twitch in his pants and he couldn’t control himself anymore, yanking it free so that he could steer himself between your open, inviting legs, moaning shakily and blowing his hair out of his eyes as he pushed into you. 

knowing that only a few months ago, your dignity would have never let you consent to something like this, wonbin almost felt bad. he may have sold the drugs, but he never touched them otherwise. too many people he had seen wind up like you, selling themselves out for a moment of ecstasy.

but he wasn’t so different. your cunt squeezed and throttled the life out of his cock. sweat was the reason your body clung to his. you were muttering his name, dragging red lines down his back with your fingernails. and for the time being, there was nothing wonbin wouldn’t do for his moment of ecstasy.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Y'know, it's unfortunate more people don't compare Louis and Violet in good faith.

Like, when I do see people compare them, it's usually through the lens of one is good, and the other bad. One is more canon than the other, and here's why. One is objectively better for Clementine, and the other is less impactful, worse written, didn't have chemistry with her, insert several insults here, etc.

I don't think it's inherently bad to express why you might not like one of them, or why you prefer one over the other. That's fine, that's a matter of opinion. It only gets to me when it becomes hostile, or passive aggressive... but even then, I've learned to just roll my eyes and move on. Some people make it very clear that they're not worth having a discussion with.

However, I wish I could read more nuanced comparisons of the two that didn't default to the "and that's why this one is better." At least some are kind enough to tack on a "for my Clementine" at the end.

You know how it goes: Louis is cute and he makes Clementine laugh, whereas Violet's boring, her love is shallow, she's still not over Minerva and she's using Clementine as a rebound. Violentine's a bad ship because Violet's actually a traitor, and they're practically the same person and that's bad.

Violet's loyal and reliable, whereas Louis is annoying, he never takes anything serious, he's a traitor for his vote, and he's nothing but a distraction. Clouis is a bad ship because how could any Clementine possibly like him after he voted her and AJ out? That's bad!

That's always the conclusion, right? One good, one bad.

This is incredibly limiting and it drives me nuts.

They're foils. They contrast one another, highlight each other's strengths and flaws, in such an interesting way that it makes Clementine's choice between them all the more meaningful.

One is not good and the other bad, they're different, and I think that's worth exploring.

Let's start with a common argument: Violet is the more impactful option due to her connection to Minerva.

Now, to be fair, I can understand why someone on Team Violet would believe this. Yes, it's true that the confrontation with Minerva is more impactful for a violentine shipper who has more investment in Violet as a character. Louis doesn't have as strong of a connection to her.

However, what they're failing to recognize is that Minerva isn't the only ghost to haunt this narrative. Violet may have Minerva, yes, but Louis has Marlon... and that doesn't just go away once Marlon's dead.

Violet's route has Minerva as her ex-girlfriend, and her bond with Tenn that all comes to a head on the bridge. Louis' route has Marlon's death and how that specifically impacts his relationship with AJ and Clementine, and the slow burn of forgiveness on all sides.

Marlon and Minerva are also reflective of Clementine's worst outcomes.

Clementine and Marlon were tied together through Brody's blood splattered on their hands and faces. They both killed a part of Brody, but only one of them lies about who killed her first.

After Marlon dies, Clementine gradually replaces him throughout the game; Rosie is her dog now, she uses his bow [which Louis gave her], she becomes the leader. Clementine gets them to fight back, and when three of her people are captured, she doesn't cut her losses. She does what Marlon couldn't; "we're getting them back."

When she chooses Louis, he does for her what he never did for Marlon: he steps up.

Clementine proves she won't become Marlon just as she proves she won't become Minerva.

After getting James to agree to help them, Clementine and AJ talk about what to do if she ever gets bit. AJ says he'd want her to bite him, too. He repeats this sentiment after she's actually bitten, telling her he wants to stay and they could turn together, peacefully.

When Minerva confronts them on the bridge, she's dying... and she wants Tenn to die with her. She doesn't care who she has to kill in the process. She's more monster than human at this point, and most times, she succeeds.

They're both bitten. Clementine could've become a monster like Minerva in the end. She could've killed AJ, and they could've become walkers together. But she didn't. Minerva wanted Tenn to die for her, and Clementine wanted AJ to live for her.

Also, I should mention she has Minerva's axe. She carries the key weapons associated with Marlon and Minerva throughout different points in the game, further solidifying these connections. She uses Marlon's bow to save her friends, and she uses Minerva's axe to save AJ, who in turn uses it to save her.

What's also so interesting about this is how Marlon's alive in episode one, and Minerva is thought to be dead. Louis has his best friend, and Violet's lost hers. But, at the end of the episode, Marlon's dead and Minerva's revealed to be alive.

Marlon becomes the ghost, and Minerva becomes the monster. Clementine becomes to Louis and Violet what Marlon and Minerva never could... how does that not drive anyone else insane?

So, no. One is not objectively better, or more impactful, because of a connection to Marlon or Minerva. They're different. It just depends on which storyline you personally find more compelling.

Actually, let's talk about that a little more.

In my opinion, the most intriguing point of comparison between Louis and Violet stems from their perceptions of survival, and how that impacts Clementine.

An argument I see made against violentine is that Violet's boring because she and Clementine are too similar. This usually comes from clouis shippers who prefer the "opposites attract" dynamic Clementine and Louis have.

On the flip side, there's the counter argument that Louis is reckless, that he doesn't take survival as seriously as he should and Clementine wouldn't want him because of that.

These are interesting to me because I get where they're coming from... but they ultimately miss the point.

The other day, I replayed TFS. Except this time, I did something a little bit differently. I played my usual clouis route, but then I had the violentine route pulled up on my laptop so that I could watch these scenes, comparing them side by side… and something occurred to me. 

Louis is about challenging Clementine's perception of survival, and Violet is about validating it.

Louis challenges Clementine from the very moment we meet him—he’s playing music. His initial philosophy on survival butts heads with Clementine’s. The fact that hunting with him and Aasim challenges your perception of “your choices have consequences.” These games have conditioned the player to think along the lines of, “Yeah, Louis is more fun… but if I don’t hunt with Aasim, we won’t have any food.”

Except that’s just it. I hate to say it, Aasim, but in the grand scheme of things… hunting with you doesn’t matter. It's actually less rewarding. You know why? Because in the next section, we get food from the train station. It would’ve been more beneficial to spend time with Louis over hunting, hence how he challenges you.  

This then primes you for the choice between choosing to follow Louis or follow Violet. I know people complain about how this is presented with Violet doing something productive [checking the walls] and Louis playing piano… but that’s the point. If you’re going through with Louis’ full route, you need to meet him at his level, and in turn, he will meet you at yours. You need to accept the challenge, the idea that Clementine isn’t entirely right about the way she’s gone about survival.

Oh, and do I even need to mention the vote? The debate over Louis’ vote is exhausting. Often times, people tell on themselves in how they talk about it. It’s not actually about the fact that he voted against them. If it was, these people would have a bigger bone with pick with Mitch, Willy, Ruby, and Omar… and yet Louis is the one who takes all the blame as if he’s the only one personally kicking them out. 

Louis is reacting to the death of his best friend, and the complicated feelings that come with it being caused by AJ. He wants accountability, even if he knows something's wrong. You can either agree with him that it was murder, and set AJ on the path of atonement… or, you can double down and tell him to fuck off, AJ was justified. 

But here’s the thing… the vote adds to the appeal of Louis’ route. To someone who hates him, or at the very least is critical of his vote, that sounds mad or delusional.

Except it’s really not.

Ever heard of a thing called tension? Because there’s a lot of it in ep2 between clouis + AJ and it’s fantastic.

Yes, Louis voting them out is problematic because we need a problem to solve. We need something to feed the tension between him and Clementine. He stepped in front of a gun held by his best friend in order to protect her, forever changing their relationship… only for that to seemingly be taken away from us the moment AJ shoots Marlon. 

Yes, Louis’ route is about being challenged, but it’s also about challenging him. That he’s able to forgive them, that he’s able to question his own survival philosophy and understand theirs, that he’s able to apologize and actually change for the better… that right there is what makes clouis so damn good. 

He becomes hardened whereas Clementine softens. By the end of the game, they’re on a similar level now without neglecting their differences, and they can move forward together. 

That’s what makes Louis’ route appealing… and it’s also what makes it unappealing to people who prefer Violet. 

By contrast, Violet’s already on Clementine’s level when it comes to this perception of survival. She validates that Clementine’s on the right path.

They have other similarities in the way that they’re both female, queer, they both have a kid they look after, they’re not always great with other people, etc. 

People who prefer Louis might consider this boring, but I think to Team Violet, it’s comforting. It’s comforting to have a partner who takes this as seriously as you do, who wants to get shit done. They’re playing Clementine with a similar attitude, and don’t believe it needs to be challenged. It’s comforting to feel validated on something you already firmly believe in. 

We also see this if we compare the hunting and fishing scenes. You have to make an effort to choose Louis by choosing to neglect hunting, but the game makes you fish with Violet no matter what.

Violet’s prioritizing fishing because they need food. That’s what they’ve set out to do, so let’s do it. The game is letting you know that’s the case, and if you value that, continue pursuing her. 

While fishing, they discuss why things are weird with her and Brody. Violet doesn’t take well to Clementine’s blunt, “Because you make it weird. Brody tries and you just make fun of her."

That’s understandable because I think she already kind of knows why and is looking to have her feelings validated. She prefers it when Clementine suggests that it’s because Brody never said sorry for what happened to the twins. 

There’s also comfort and validation in the way Violet sides with Clementine and AJ after Marlon’s death. She votes for them to stay, vocalizing how much she disapproves of the results. There’s this feeling that I recognize from a lot of the sapphic romance I read; “it’s you and me against the world, I’ll always have your back, even if you’re in the wrong, I’ll fight for you.”

In our case, it’s violentine + AJ against the rest of Ericson, save Tenn and Aasim. Violet validates that AJ was justified because Marlon was a liar and murderer, claiming that AJ and Clementine did nothing wrong. Violet fights to keep them. 

The tension between violentine in ep2 is different because instead of one pushing the other away, they’re being forced apart by the vote and there’s nothing they can do about it. That tension is somewhat released when Clementine comes back and they’re reunited, working out a plan to best defend the school. 

It’s also why Violet’s presented as doing something productive when you follow her instead of Louis, and why she asks if you want to hang out after checking the defenses. 

All that being said, allow me to reiterate that one is not good and the other bad, they're different. These concepts of challenge and change/validation and comfort exist on a neutral road as diverging paths. It’s up to the player to pick what path they prefer, but that doesn’t mean the other path isn’t worth acknowledging or analyzing. 

I should also mention that they’re not exclusive; there is overlap with validation being present in Louis’ route and challenges in Violet’s. They’re just more present in episodes 3 and 4 after we’ve made our decision. 

There are several more examples of how this all fits together, buuuuut–

Ya’ll wanna compare some allegories?

Those familiar with my content might already know where I’m going with this as I’ve made a post about Louis and the piano in the past. 

You see, I believe that there are allegories for Louis and Violet’s hearts present in their routes: Louis’ piano, and Violet’s pin. 

I already have a thorough, in-depth analysis of Louis and the piano that you can read, so all I’ll say about it is that on the night of the raid, he asked Clementine to carve a piece of herself into his heart so that no matter what, their initials will be immortalized together in its wood…

And that makes me fucking feral. 

But I'm also so normal about it.

As for Violet, her heart is the star gazing pin she gives to Clementine. She gives it to her so she’ll always remember that night… but she doesn’t give it to her until after Clementine’s saved her, and that fascinates me in the context of it being allegory. 

Louis asks Clementine to carve herself into his heart right before the raid, cementing that from that moment on, he is utterly devoted to her. I believe this is part of the reason why Louis is still happy to see her if he’s the one who’s captured. Yes, yes, he’s also incredibly traumatized from having his tongue cut out and he’d be happy to see anyone, yada yada… but listen, if you romance Louis and he’s captured, his heart remains with her—that piano with their intitals is on full display. When he sees her, he’s still so devoted to her that he refuses to accept that it’s at all her fault. Even when she says it is, he shakes his head... and he so easily accepts her when they’re together in the end. From the moment Clementine puts knife to wood, he’s hers. 

Now, look… you might think I’m going somewhere not great with this but hear me out. 

I think after Clementine’s gone star gazing with her, Violet is fully ready to give her heart to her. Y’know, give her the pin. But, think about what Violet said about how people have left, but Clementine came back. Plus, with the impending raid to think about, maybe Violet should keep the pin until the right moment. 

I believe a key difference between her and Louis is that Violet needs one last thing to solidify that Clementine’s the one. 

Louis gives her his heart prior to the raid because of everything that’s already gone down between them following Marlon’s death. Violet needs to know that Clementine’s willing to fight for her the way she fought before. When Clementine saves her from the raiders, it’s solidified. Even after she sees Minerva again, it changes nothing.

It’s also worth noting that the pin is something Clementine wears. Like the piano carving, it’s a piece on display for everyone to see, to let them know whose heart Clementine has.

Violet literally handed Clementine her heart as a means of saying, “I’m yours. I’m devoted to you.” 

This is why romanced/captured Violet is devastating, and is why she behaves the way she does in the cells. She was so ready to give her heart away and then nope, sorry, Vi! You get knocked unconscious by raiders instead! 

If anything, you kind of deserve to be told to fuck off if you romanced her and then let her get captured. Just sayin’. 

Look, I have a lot of complicated feelings about the captured violentine route, mostly with Violet being as forgiving as she is after her eyes are burned—yes, yes, I know, her eyes are burned and Minerva messed with her head so of course now she’s not hostile, yada, yada. 

But I think it’s rather telling that you don’t get the pin in this route. Sure, Violet’s willing to forgive and possibly pursue this romance in the future… but she’s not ready to hand over her heart, not truly. Not after everything that’s happened. 

And if you want to get extra angsty about it, imagine that Violet made the pin right after they parted ways, but before the raiders came. Meaning that if she’s captured, it’s possibly still sitting somewhere, abandoned. 

Mmhmmm, very normal about this. I feel normal. My normalness about this continues... normally. I'm not losing my shit thinking about that. Nope. Why would I? I wouldn't! So normal.

Okay just let me talk about their reactions to Tenn's death and then I'll shut up.

This makes me want to gnaw my own foot off, I can barely handle it.

AJ shoots Tenn on the bridge because Clementine trusted him to make the hard calls. This saves Louis or Violet's life.

When Louis jumps across, he's completely silent as he watches Tenn die... and then he's pissed; "What the fuck?! How could you just shoot him like that?!"

AJ explains himself, that he did it for him, and Louis is so upset that he forces AJ to look at what he's done, to watch the walkers eat Tenn; "Tenn's dead. He's dead! Do you realize that?! Look! [...] He's... he's gone, because of you. Just fucking gone."

If Clementine says AJ saved his life, Louis says, "So what, we just cut him loose? Gun him down like he was nothing?"

If Clementine says nothing, Louis says, "Tenn was just a little boy!"

The reason Louis responds this way is because in this moment, he just relived Marlon's death all over again, but worse. So, SO much worse!

When Violet jumps across, she breaks down, begging, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! No, no! No, no, no..." as she watches Tenn die... and then says to AJ, "No! What the fuck?! How could you do that?!"

AJ explains himself, that he did it for her, and Violet is faaaar from okay; "For me? I can't... Tenn is gone! That soft little boy who liked to draw, he's gone, because of you!"

If Clementine says AJ saved her life, Violet says, "You think that's okay?! Just gunning down one of our own?!"

And there it is.

Louis is hardened in this situation because he already went through this... Violet hasn't, not with AJ. She softened up throughout her route due to her relationships to him and Clementine... but this is the moment where she realizes that maybe AJ wasn't as justified as she believed, and this is the consequence.

This leads us to the ending where AJ asks if they're still mad about him killing Tenn, and I just... I'm biting my foot right now because the script has flipped.

Louis is forgiving and understanding. He's soft, he's sympathetic, he shakes AJ's hand to let him know that all is forgiven and they're okay; "I... AJ, I guess it's like... You saw something I didn't. About the situation, I mean. Minnie and the walkers and Tenn, it's just all this chaos in my head when I think back on it. [...] Clem says you saved my life? Well, then, that's exactly what you did. And how can I stay mad at anyone for doing that?"

Or, alternatively, "He was your friend, AJ. I know you are hurting just as much as I am."

As for Violet? She's understanding, too... but she's not quite ready to forgive yet; "The thing you said on the bridge...that he was messing up all the time. It wasn't something new, you know. Tenn got himself or other people into trouble all the time, long before you guys got here. He was always so lost. He lived in a world that just...isn't there, you know? And that's why I tried to look after him. But when I was pulling him away from the walkers, and Minnie, I could also see...he just wasn't there anymore."

"So you're mad, but sad."

"Can I be that for a while?"

And it's completely understandable that she's hurting and struggling with how she feels about AJ moving forward! She wants to be okay, she wants to forgive him, she just needs time.

Now, because I'm forever bitter, but I'm gonna mention this as well: whenever I see someone point at Violet's scene and say, "See!? This is how LOUIS should've acted in ep2!" like... they're telling on themselves again. Not just that they don't understand Louis as a character or his route, but that they don't fully grasp Violet's part in this either. Or time frames, for that matter.

Let me put it to you in simple terms... they react the same.

After Marlon and Tenn die, they're upset. They're pissed. They blame AJ and yell at him. After they've had time to process what happened [Louis after the two week time skip, Violet after time passes between the bridge and the ending] they share the same, "I'm still upset about Marlon/Tenn. Can I be that for a while and still be your friend?" sentiment.

The difference is that Louis is treated poorly for it because of the vote, and because we feel it first hand for longer... Violet got to grieve off screen and come back after she's sorted herself out.

It's a disservice to both of their characters because it's rooted in that same mentality that I criticized at the beginning: "This is why one is better than the other."

Do I need to say it again? I'm gonna say it again.

One is not good and the other bad. They're different.

There are so many fun discussions that could come from putting Louis and Violet side by side, and examining them. I haven't even covered the different ways they're introduced, or compared their ep3 dates to see what it says about them and the overall narratives! What about the cell scenes!? How they react when Dorian's about the cut off their fingers! The way they approach James upon meeting him!

That last one in particular is especially funny! They're all under stress about blending in with a herd of walkers to infiltrate a boat to save their friends, and yet Louis easily saunters up to the guy wearing walker skins with a smile, and makes him laugh by saying, "Functional and fashionable. I'll take two."

Violet approaches James like he's an injured wild animal that's going to bite her, and bless her heart, she tries with, "I, uh… hey. Hey there, James. Sorry about Willy." Then James gives her this judgmental side-eye, like buddy? She's not the weirdo here.

There is so much potential to dissect here, and I want to see people do it... but I want them to do it fairly, in good faith.

I want to get away from the idea of comparing them to "prove" which is better because there is no objective better. There isn't! That's a waste of time!

I'm so done with The Debate™; it's unhelpful, it's annoying, and it's boring as shit. I've heard it all before, and you probably have, too.

I want to put Louis and Violet under a microscope and study them with the thought process of, "one does this and the other does that... what does it mean!? what does it say about the narrative!? Oh my god, they have the same opinion on this thing, WRITE THAT DOWN!"

So yeah, that's my ramble for the night.

I'm gonna go replay TFS for further research.

[cr4yolaas]

WHIPLASH — DISTRACTOR

she loves journalism, she tells herself for the umpteenth time this week to cope with the immense overload. there's nothing about this industry that she could possibly hate. not at all. totally not.

003. look back / masterlist / 005. so clueless!

At 5 PM every day, just when she's about to leave the office for the day, she gets an overwhelming rush of energy. Not the good kind.

Her spine creaks and aches from constant attempts to keep her posture upright while reading email upon email upon email, the lines scrolling past as she orders them all neatly in her head — a waste of her time, something to keep note of later on, and the urgent stuff. It's routine. The click, click, click of her foot on the ground is almost in time with the clock at the front of the room, and she can feel each fiber and strand of fabric that prods at her skin. Her desk is the same every time, featuring a poor, worn-down notepad with barely legible notes and papers passed down to her through the journalistic hierarchy (however, most of them are from her editor-in-chief), and she can't be bothered to fix it because it's the only way she can find anything.

She adjusts her top, just as she has been every ten or so minutes. Another one gifted from Nobara, with the remark that she'd "sway all of her editors' hearts." And while it did prove to be true, she can't say she enjoys it. All the same, she knows it's the only way to survive in the industry.

It's systematic. Her fingers click and clack away at her keys while she goes over another writer's work — a new one that just transferred from the Lifestyles department into Sports, with the argument that he'd "find more opportunities here."

It's sloppy. He can't tell the difference between their, they're, and there. There's a significant lack of Oxford commas everywhere she looks. And on top of that, the tone reeks of bias, namely towards the volleyball player he's supposed to be neutral about.

She straightens up again before angrily typing in her edits. Add a comma here. Simplify this — no points are being made here. Elaborate? Reword this. By the end of it all, his page is littered with highlights and comments, likely a new record for her.

It's all too much.

There's a ticking in her head that, by whatever force of nature, powers over the sound of her fingertips slamming into the keys, and a ringing in her ears that lies beneath it. Her eyes burn with every second she spends staring at her screen. The hairs on her head — neatly done, to please the "office worker image" that her editors seem to love — feel as if they're falling out of her scalp by the minute. Every sensation washes over her. It's exhausting.

She looks up at the clock. One, two, three more seconds pass, and when the hands switch to the neatly printed 6, she almost jumps out of her seat, her documents haphazardly stacked and stored away into her drawers and her laptop falling shut. Every extra moment spent only allows the rot in her head to fester. Before she can process her actions, her bag (the new Samo Ondoh one she picked up last week, after much deliberation) finds its way to her shoulder and her feet are firmly planted in the elevator.

After five seconds, she heaves out a long, heavy breath.

Her head thumps softly against the metal wall behind her. It’s a gentle noise. She watches the numbers count down until the lobby, the doors opening slowly. Almost too slowly.

She loves her job. She really, really does. It's what she tells herself as she rushes out the main doors, and it's what she'll continue to tell herself until the end of it all.

★ there’s supposed to be another msg from yn before the “left my keys @ work” text </3 i’ll leave u guys to fill in the blank with ur imagination

★ sorry not sorry for pushing the cr4yolaas workaholic yn agenda …

★ maki loves zelle she refuses to use paypal or apple pay or anything else

★ it’s her beige flag i fear

★ also the last time she tried to drive yuta’s car was right after she got her (much delayed) license … n she almost totaled it completely </3

★ she’s a wonderfully intelligent woman in stem but u do NOT want her as ur designated driver

★ nobara begs to use maki’s digicam every time they go out like a little kid asking to play games on their parent’s phone

★ 50% of the time it’s a yes

★ yn’s EIC is heavily inspired by mine from 2 yrs ago 😙 i dislike her so bad she acc made me quit LOL

★ yuuji and yn’s dynamic is like best friends since diapers but they’ve known each other for 6 months max

★ they met thru toge and toge gets a little jealous of their dynamic #enviousking

★ “were u there when she shat her pants on the way home from elementary school? didn’t think so”

TAGLIST: @kameyyy @s777athv @solecitoszn @1l-ynn @valvoria @standcom @kissunday @hqnge @applepi25 @fushiguruuzzzz @reveurdoll @anotherwriternamedclara @sh0ot1ngst4r @starrysho @lizbix @diearama @cherryredribbons @asuritam @tiramizuloz @saltypuffin1040 @burnishingbagels @beepbopzlorp @reezerdotcom @tibibibi123 @carneries @gumims @chososcamgirl @anngelllla @fefesooli @vrxouei @s3ns4ti0n4l @lucentwings @sentifua @in-the-marina-trench @k4ss11333

[kanmom51]

Missing Jikook today

Not that I don't miss them every single day, but just saying...

@wonsummernight Miss your edits!!!!!! I know there isn't any new Jikook content just yet, but if there was a time we were in dire need for some heart wrenching Jikook edits, this is it!!!

Basically, this is me telling you "PLEASE COME BACK". 💜💜

So, I came today to cry a little, you know commiserating together with others takes the edge off a bit (note to self: keep telling yourself that, and you might start believing it too...), but also to remind y'all that SM is crap, a viper pit, a cec pool, where all the miserably unhappy ignorant assholes tend to flock to (this is about the assholes that have turned sm into such a place), either to create drama that will get them some much needed attention they aren't getting elsewhere, or to create a parallel universe where their dreams and wants come true, even if they have zero standing in reality. Oh, and I forgot those that are there to make some hard cash, by all means.

And why am I mentioning all of this, you may ask?

Well, because for some reason my hopes and dreams for a fandom cleanse are being shattered as we speak.

As you may already know, I've taken a step back lately. mainly distancing myself from SM, as it's been going downhill for ages now, but has become an even uglier place to visit in the past few months, I'd say ever since it's been known that JK and JM are enlisting TOGETHER and will be serving TOGETHER, basically being in each other's close vicinity 24/7 for 18 months (even if not sharing exact same duties within the unit) and spending off time together . And to clarify once again: Same unit, same posting (base), different duties within the unit.

You'd think that 3 months in, and after the initial shock, reality and truth would set in (even with the most delusional) that these two young men CHOSE to enlist together (free choice and steps taken by both of them to achieve this). And once again me reminding they are the only ones in the group to decide they want to do this and the only idols to ever do so.

But no. Who am I kidding? Probably wishful thinking on my part. You know, that these people will either wake up, smell the roses and just cope with reality, or plain and simply piss off (that's probably me being delusional at this point).

Point being, it's gotten even worse. Like who would have believed that would happen? Yeah, probably should have seen it coming though. When you have cult behavior, when you have those that profit off it (monetarily or otherwise), I should have known it would go this way. The need to dive even deeper into the filth of this earth, to create even dumber narratives, to, of course, spew even more hate towards either of them (depending what delusional team you are on).

Should have seen it all coming.

Sadly, instead of just leaving, tail between their legs, they are doubling down on their utterly delusional beliefs regarding these young men. Not without pain, I may add. Pain, that a small part of me, someone that tries very hard to be nice and good and positive, is now relishing (I lie... not that mall of a part after all). Their twists and turns, their made up shit to compensate for whatever shit JK, JM or Tae are throwing their way... kind of priceless. I mean, if they aren't going anywhere, should we not at least enjoy their demise?

Does that make me a bad person?

Honestly, I don't think so.

And Jikook being away from most of this, lighting the fire and walking away leaving their haters behind to burn, was a nice touch.

Now we just sit here silently wait for our little travel show...

💜💜

[madaqueue]

playlists

broke her daughter's legs in two | "bruno is orange" x hop along

synopsis: geto finds you after the village massacre, but things went differently

pairing: suguru geto x reader

themes/content: semi-canon curse au. angst. language. loss, death, mentions of possible abuse.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: a little angst to get me out of my smut era (jk i have so much more lined up lmao) anyways once again i highly suggest listening to this song while reading :)

“suguru?” you whisper hesitantly to the man standing in your doorway. the moonlight shines through the curtains of your dorm room, illuminating him just enough to make out his figure.

he says nothing, staring blankly ahead.

“what happened?” you ask, rubbing sleep from your eyes. he slowly starts walking towards you, a pit of dread forming in your stomach as he silently approaches your bed.

you shouldn’t be afraid. you know you shouldn’t. he’s your best friend.

but you also know what happened - you had read the report earlier today.

112 villagers died.

not a single person left in the village.

concluded to be that of suguru geto’s curse manipulation.

geto set fire to the village and fled.

subject to execution.

the weight of his body at the end of your bed causes it to sag slightly as he sits next to you. the smell of ash, blood, and death hangs on his clothes.

the cicadas chirp outside your open window, filling the air between you until he takes in a shaky breath, shoulders raising ever so slightly.

“i had to,” he mouths, the words barely audible.

his eyes stare straight ahead, empty.

“had to what?” you prod, gently reaching a hand up to his back. he flinches at your touch.

“i had to save them.”

you wouldn’t understand, he thinks. nobody else will ever understand.

the things he saw in that village, the way they hurt them - the two girls. it wasn’t their fault. and yet, there they were. they put them there. in that fucking cage, like animals.

the young girls begged him, tears in their eyes. “please don’t tell.” “please don’t yell.”

he was good. he knew he was good. he had to save them.

suddenly, the old woman behind him, their captor, spat back at them, “don’t speak. you’re both going to hell.”

he did what a good person should do. he saved them.

the world is not kind to sorcerers - he knew this all too well. especially in places like these, the outskirts of society where sorcery was equated to evil and condemned, they hurt them. they blame them. they punish them. the world is a dangerous place for sorcerers.

as he sits in your bed, he starts to shake. no tears leave his eyes, but his breathing becomes ragged, shoulders heaving as he stares into the distance in front of him, eyes unfocused.

in the quiet of your room, all he hears are the crackles of the flames. he didn’t even hear the screams, the pleas, that fell from their traitorous lips. because he was doing good. he was saving them.

your voice pulls him back to reality slightly, still unable to tune out the ringing of bloodshed from his ears. “suguru,” you murmur, “whatever happened, it’s okay.”

he wants to believe you, he does. he wants to feel your hand stroking his back, but it just feels like everything is a million miles away. he’s watching himself break down in the moonlight of your room. he wants to be good.

“i killed them,” he finally utters.

the words make you flinch, even though you knew they were coming.

“i killed all of them. the entire village.”

“why?” you ask, not wanting but nevertheless needing an answer, an explanation, for what happened.

“i had to save them.”

“save who?”

“the girls.”

a sigh leaves your lips in relief. you knew it, you knew suguru wouldn’t just hurt people. he must have seen them, they must have been hurt, and the only way to help them was to burn the village down. you needed this to be true, to reassure yourself as much as him. you knew he was good.

he was your best friend, after all, and right now he needs you.

you think back to the last time you saw him before this mission, how different things were, the morning he left.

–

the two of you sit on a picnic bench, shaded by one of the trees in the courtyard outside the school. geto holds an orange in his hands, peeling it with a small knife. he was always so careful with things like this, never daring to nick the soft flesh of the fruit, a care he brought with him into every aspect of his life. he was always calculated, a quiet thoughtfulness that came second nature to him.

your eyes trace over his hands before moving up to his face, the dark circles under his eyes a physical manifestation of the exhaustion you had seen growing in him the past few weeks.

“suguru?” you get his attention.

“mhm?” he murmurs, eyes never leaving the orange as he continues working his knife around it.

you sigh, not knowing how he’ll react to the question you’ve been dreading. “are you…are you okay?”

his hands freeze for a moment, body tensing, before he returns to his movement. “mhm,” he affirms.

you want to reach across the table, grab him by the shoulders and yell that you know he’s lying, that he is so clearly and undeniably not okay, that he just needs to talk to you and you’ll do anything you can to help him.

but, of course, you don’t. instead, you tilt your head back as your gaze shifts up to the sky, bright blue through the leaves above you.

“you know,” you start, scanning the branches that shake softly in the wind, “i heard that people used to eat oranges in the morning if they weren’t feeling well, the idea of a fruit-curing fever, something in it warming and soothing. they thought it could heal sickness.”

“mmm,” suguru hums softly. without another word, he splits the orange in two, handing you half. “worth a shot,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

–

remembering him, his kindness and hurt, your body language softens. “that’s okay,” you explain, more at ease now that you know he acted out of compassion. “where are they now, the girls? we can go help them, together.”

geto is silent. his eyes slowly move from the floor up to yours, a new darkness in them.

“suguru…” you start.

he just stares.

“w-what did you do?” you stammer, fear reappearing in the pit of your stomach, your hand freezing in place on his back.

“i saved them.” his voice is low, resigned. “it was too dangerous for them. they couldn’t live in this world, a world built to hate them. i needed to protect them. i needed to help them. and i did,” he pauses to take in a sharp breath between his rambling. “now, they won’t have to live in a world that would hurt them. it was too dangerous. i helped them. i did. i saved them.”

as he talks himself in circles, his grasp on everything becomes undone. he loses himself in his words, the mantra he so desperately clung to, the one he needed to say until he believed it.

he was good. he saved them.

your eyes widen as the realization sets in: the girls are dead. just like everyone else in the village. just like the reports said.

as he babbles out the same explanation, shock takes over your body. you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t move, the only words leaving your mouth are “it’s okay,” over and over again, the sounds mixing with his in your room, chaos swirling in the night air as you both drift away from this reality.

“it’s okay” “i protected them” “it’s okay” “i helped them” “it’s okay” “i saved them” “it’s okay”

suddenly, your body jolts forward as you sit up in bed. the action surprises suguru into silence as he watches you, eyes following your every move as you walk to the small kitchen in your dorm room, taking an orange out of a bowl that sits on the counter.

you shove your thumb under the thick peel, tearing at the flesh of the fruit as you pull it apart in strips. juice leaks down between your fingers and drips onto the counter. holding the fruit in your palm, your bare feet carry you back to suguru. holding out a hand, you both sit in silence and eat the orange.

your voice is raspy and worn as you speak to him.

“you saved them.”