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#like it had great potential and it followed through with it in the first 2 seasons

hauntedrain · 2 months

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Part 3: Unexpected | Max Verstappen x Fem Reader |

✮▹A/N: So sorry for not posting life has been BUSY. Hope you like this though, its potentially the last or second to last part of this series.

✰▹Warnings/Notices: use of pictures of Max and kelly. Pretty big time skip from part 2. NOT EDITED.

Part 2: Here!

liked by MaxVerstappen, Mclaren, Y/N L/N & 17,567,577 others

F1: Its race day!!!! follow the link in bio to keep up live!

click to view all 11,245,578 comments

Y/N has posted to their story!

Liked by 12,345,686 others

MaxV1Updates: Max has been spotted with content creator Y/N L/N. Both had social media thrown through a loop after their interactions with each other online a few months back. Is Y/N officially the newest addition to the F1 WAG's?

view all 6,786,667 comments

user1: OMFG Y/N

user2: Im actually crying wtf.

user3: Im sorry but this is straight out of the book oml.

↪ user4: No cuz its so cute and so unexpected too.

Y/N: Damn ive made it on a f1 updates page. IM WINNING.

↪ user5: MOTHER EXPLAIN.

↪ user 6: I was surprised too.

Liked by Y/N L/N, MaxVerstappen1, F1, and 12,577,697 others

RedBull: Another win in the books! Lovely and successful race today. Getting ready for next weekend!

click to view all 7,567,567 comments

user10: PLZ LET THE OTHERS CATCH UP PLEASE.

Theo: Tu–tu–du–du Max Verstappen

↪ Lorelei: Let's shake it to the max Put your hands up, hands up Take it to the max

↪ Y/N: Please stop ive heard that non-stop since I've learned about f1

Y/N: he's a cutie tbh.

↪ user11: Y/N your on main stop.

↪ Y/N: posting this on every platform brb.

↪ RedBull: Glad to know you find our driver cute.

liked by Theo, Lorelei, MaxVerstappen1 & 23,345,567 others

Y/N: Middle slide him and I?

click to view all 12,345,423 comments

user12: GURL PLEASE JUST CONFIRM IT PLEASE

user13: im sorry but how tf did she come from just making videos with her friends for fun to potentially dating a 3x WDC?

↪ Y/N: Its called being Y/N. its a lifestyle !

↪ user14: LMFAO

MaxVerstappen1: she's kinda a cutie tbh.

↪ Y/N: first time ive ever seen you say cutie.

↪ MaxVerstappen1: Yeah and its the last time

↪ user15: PARENTS

Y/N has posted to their story! Max Verstappen has posted to their story!

liked by Y/N, RedBull, Lorelei, Theo, & 26,456,567 others

Maxverstappen1: First personal post in a while huh? anyways lovely view on slides 2 & 3.

click to view all 14,345,764 comments

user19: Y/N Y/N MY WIFE

↪ Y/N: I had no clue I was married but sure.

user20: THE VIEW.

user21: PLEASE WHAT. SADAITE ME BEFORE I GO FERAL.

↪ MaxVerstappen1: Oh.

↪ Y/N: um. okay !

user22: im sorry but this is so cute like wtf. she makes max not look like mad max.

↪ Y/N: did you ever think he was? He's the biggest dork to walk this earth.

↪ RedBull: As having to be around him 24/7, I can back this claim up.

↪ user23: REDBULL PLEASE DO A VID WITH Y/N PLEASE. IT WOULD BE GREAT CONTENT.

↪ Redbull: Working on it right now

↪ Y/N: CAN I BE THE SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER FOR A DAY PLEASEEEEEEEEE.

user24: max hard launching?

Max Verstappen has gone live!

Y/N L/N has gone live!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ taglist: @holy-macncheese-balls @loloekie @cherry-piee @bloodyymaryyy @mangotaitai @the-untamed-soul @trouble-sistar @stinkyjax @minkyungseokie @weekendlusting @m0cha-bunny @formulanni @alex0808 @charizznorizz @imsiriuslyreal @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @67-angelofthelordme-67 @eugene-emt-roe @moonyzsworld @lpab @evie-119

Comment if you wanna be tagged (for what I believe is the last part) <3

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: IM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, I had so much to do but hopefully you like potentially the last or second to last part of this series. love you guys and thank you so much. Much love.

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flamingpudding · 5 months

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Drake's family secret #2

Previous Part

Tim was prepared, he had done as much research / digging as he could squeeze in between meetings, even going so far as rescheduling some of them to get more time until the tour guide would lead the high school students to his office.

Some things he had found were worrying even to the point of wanting to just take Danny and move him permanently to Gotham. Even if he knew that Gotham wasn't the safest city either. He had seen the other boy's interest in the aerospace department through the cameras, but with his digging he had found that Danny had been on a fast track for a Junior Space Program with the grades to support it.

Diggin that information up had made Tim proud, thinking that if there was something good about the Drake family it was that both Danny and him appear to have a very good set of brain cells. Though that proud feeling didn't last long when he dug further.

Because then an accident happened to him, leaving him with his last medical record stating a heart condition. After that there were no more dated medical records. In addition the timing of the accident lined up with when Danny's grades pummeled. He went from a A student to a C student in the month following the accident. Not only that but it also appeared that he racked up quite the number of teacher complaints to which he then got labeled as a delinquent student in his files.

Tim had narrowed his eyes at the screen as he lined up the timeline, with some additional information he had found about Amity Park. That information had not been easy to dig up, he had rescheduled at least two meetings so he could work uninterrupted on the strange firewalls that were protecting it, and even then he only got a handful of newspaper clips out of it. But that had been enough, for now.

Because Danny Fenton's accident and declining grades lined up with the appearance of a ghost menace hero Invis-o-Bill. A coincidence? Definitely not. Looked like hero-ing wasn't just a Wayne family thing.

Either way Tim had dug up a lot in a short amount of time about his possible brother. He was still missing a lot of puzzle pieces but he figured he could probably get that information once he made a successful first contact with Danny.

Which was about to happen in a little more than 5 minutes.

His eyes flicked to the door, then to the live security camera feet on his laptop. Yep they were right outside his door. Taking a deep breath and closing his laptop Tim moved to lean on his desk from the front, facing the door.

His plan was easy. give the kids a little motivational speech, spout some inspiring nonsense of 'you too can achieve great things' before dismissing cheerfully but hold Danny back, because his last name was Fenton and Tim 'recognised' it from a list of potential scientist to investment. Have a successful talk and show some interest in the - weird he actually didn't want to touch on but probably will have to consider because Danny had an accident that gave him meta powers that made him decide to go out as meta hero - stuff Danny's foster parents were researching. Ruffle his hair and subtitle pluck one of his hairs in that motion.

For a first DNA test that would be enough. Even if blood or spit would definitely be better, since he had no guarantee to also get the hair root if he just plucked one.

When the knock on his door resounded he cheerfully told them to come in and started phase one of his grand first contact plan. If anyone asked him what he told the students afterwards, he probably wouldn't be able to recount anything he told them as 'motivational speech'. He did his best though to not let his eyes constantly wander over towards the boy.

He took a little satisfaction in the fact that one of the two close friends his possible brother had appeared to be starry eyed at the fact that they got to meet him. That definitely would come in handy later on.

When some of the students started to look rather bored with their attention wandering, Tim thought that this was probably the best timing to enter phase two. Dismissing them with some scripted farewell words, he waited a little. As he expected Danny and his two friends lacked behind when the students left his office.

He cleared his throat, catching their attention. "Mr. Fenton?"

Danny looked at him wide eyed as he turned around to stare at him and Tim internally laughed. "Your parents are on our list of Scientists for possible investment. If you have the time, would it be possible to have a little chat right now?"

He noted how Danny exchanged a look with his friends and the girl among them instantly started to glare at him suspiciously as Danny's seemed to narrow. He cleared his throat once more. "I will ensure that you will get safely back to the hotel your school is staying at. I just think this would be the perfect chance to learn a bit more about ecto-science? That was what they called it, right?"

Okay, plan was not going as hoped as Danny was now full on glaring, not as heated as the girl but still glaring. His other friends had now also lost the starry eyed look in his eyes and was watching him with clear suspicion.

Damage control, damage control! Stop sounding so formal! His mind screamed as Tim once more cleared his throat nervously. "If now is inconvenient, maybe we could meet for a coffee later? I really am hoping to learn a bit more than what's written in stuffy reports."

"We got some free exploring time tomorrow afternoon. It's Tim Drake! We could at least hear him out." One of his friends stage whispered to Danny who continued to watch him with narrowed, glaring eyes.

"Tucker, no." Danny whispered back before addressing Tim. "Sorry, I have no interest in my parents work."

Before Tim could say anything else Danny dragged his friends out of his office to catch up with the other students. Leaving Tim stunned before he dragged a hand down his face. So much for phase two of his first contact plan.

"Okay noted, his parents' research is not the best way to open up contact." Tim muttered before walking around his desk and opening his laptop again. He needed to readjust his plans. Luckily one of Danny's friends, Tucker, gave him some valuable information.

Maybe he could convince Steph or Duke to go to the mall with him to make it appear more natural. Dick could also be an option, he was in town at the moment. But either way that would also risk further questions, when he 'coincidentally' ran into Danny Fenton. He didn't think reasoning with Dick about some good old brotherly bonds would distract his eldest brother long enough.

Maybe it was about time to get at least one of his siblings in on the Drake's family secret.

Or not depending, he could also check their exploring route via the city cameras and then just go coincidentally into the same coffee or food place Danny and his friends happened to go to.

Yeah that sounded better than getting his siblings involved already.

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mykinkyyandere · 1 year

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I See You (Chapter 2)

AO3

Previous Chapter

Pairings: Yandere/Dark! Sully Family X f!Reader

Summary: You know that after the Sully brothers found you, your life will never be the same again. A part of you want to forget about your past and start a new life with this obsessed family, but your past is not very happy about it. No matter where you run, your past hunts you down, and you are not sure if your new protective family can protect you from it.

Warnings: Only this chapter's pairings and warnings, yandere, obsession, possession, kidnapped reader, intense jealousy, being overprotective, brother fight, mild blood, butt slapping as punishment, emotionally hurt Lo'ak, small sized/shaped reader, major (18/21) teen reader/Neteyam/Lo'ak, sorry if i missed anything

A/N: I've changed my narrative to 3rd person. (omniscient narrator? idk exactly the correct English word) I've wanted to see through the reader's mind at first but I've changed my mind. I want to be able show what is going through the minds of the characters. I'll go like this till the end of the series.

Neteyam's highly nervous body relaxed. You could hear his relieved breathing. He closed his eyes and threw his head back a little. He would hide you until he made his mother change her mind. He would find something, anything. But there was no way he would ever let her to hurt you. He didn't think about why he felt that way. What he knew was that he wanted to protect you. Why would hurting you be a solution? It didn't matter how he felt about you or what he thought. For one thing, it was wrong for her to consider an obviously defenseless creature like you as a threat. It was definitely not personal, he told himself.

Lo'ak looked at you pensively from afar.

A new sister.

A human sister.

At last! Spider had a human sister too!

Although he was happy about this, his mother worried him. She never wanted Spider and she saw him as a potential trouble. She had every right to be worried though, but you... She liked you. Yeah, his mother indeed liked a human. Maybe you could have warmed up the coldness between her and Spider, who knew.

But she wasn't the only one who liked you.

Neteyam.

His golden brother Neteyam.

He was about to take you just like he took everything Lo'ak had, wasn't he? And the worst was that their father always blamed him first. Even now. He called his name! By making a clear implication that Lo'ak might harmed you. How convinced he was that Neteyam was the one who was protecting you.

It disgusted him.

He wanted to come to you, take your tiny hand and pull you away from his brother. But after giving his father a brief look, he changed his mind. He let the flowers in his hand slip through his fingers.

You could tell that things weren't so great between him and his dad.

"Follow your mother. We're gonna talk a little here." Jake said.

"Yes, sir." They agreed unwillingly.

Yes sir? Why did they say 'yes sir' to their father? You frowned in confusion and looked at him. Did the Na'vi call their father 'sir'? It didn't sound warm at all. Very, very cold. You hated it.

"What's with the face?" He said amusedly, approacing you. You couldn't notice that your face had turned sour, almost challenging.

You looked at him, feeling like you were stretching your head to the sky, and you couldn't help but be horrified by his huge height. There was a softness in his eyes that contrasted with his hard lines. It spread to his lips. He put his hands up in an attempt to reassure you. "Someone's moody, huh?"

You kept frowning and his smile grew even more.

For a while he communicated only from where he was. He knew that if he approached you, you would instantly try to run. He asked your name, where you came from, your family, every question you could think of, but you didn't answer. He even doubted for a moment whether you understood him or not. But no, you did understood him. You just didn't say a single word. Were you mute? He didn't want to ask that. Not now.

When he took a step slowly, you turned around and jumped forward with all your strength. You knew that he would catch you. But maybe if you veered to the right or left, he would have missed you. What a naive thought it was.

He grabbed you by the arms as soon as you turned your back. He lifted you into the air. Oh, it was really high and you were like a toy in his hands. You kicked the air and whimpered. You wanted to scream, but your breath sticked in your throat. "If you want to get on the ground, promise to behave."

No, you didn't like it.

You wanted to touch the ground, but you didn't want to listen to him. Still, it seemed that you had no choice. You nodded and he gently put you down. He took a step back to give you some room. "That's it, calm down. I just wanna talk before we go."

He put you down only for you to try to run away again.

"Oh, come on!" he hissed.

He grabbed you again and threw you over his shoulder this time. When he slapped your butt, you gasped in surprise. "You're going to cost us a lot of trouble, aren't you?"

Did he just-, did he-

Oh, he did. He did slapped your butt.

You hit him on the back to get him to put you down, you tried to throw kicks, but it was useless. There was nothing you could do but watch the beautiful forest while he took you to his home with big steps. He didn't talk to you. It was a quite trip. But you took this silence as a threat.

What were they going to do to you?

You didn't want to find out, and you clung to his hair with a fear that filled you. And he was confused because it hadn't occurred to him that you could do that. You pulled his hair hard and tried to hurt him as much as possible. You even held his braid, but he definitely didn't like it.

"HSSS!"

You thought he was going to pull you down when he grabbed you by the waist, so you pulled your hands away. Another stupid decision. He put you down, and got on top of you. Of course, he didn't put his weight on you. He grabbed your tiny wrists and pulled you towards his chest. He tied them up from behind. Then he held your upper arms firmly, leaned into your ear. "Be a good girl." he said a little harshly.

He looked at your tiny body trapped in his giant one. You were little. You were a rebel girl who defied him despite her tiny body. Your heart was strong, you didn't listen, you didn't give up hope. "You remind me of my younger self. But not exactly."

He stood up and took you in his arms instead of throwing you on his shoulder. "You also remind me of my younger son Lo'ak. But not exactly."

Silence again. He just walked and didn't speak.

You didn't make a scene. You didn't have a chance to escape anyway. Actually, there never was, but you kept trying.

You didn't know if the time passed quickly or if he was fast, but you got to their home. It was much more beautiful than the part of the forest where you got lost. And there was a family that welcomed you.

"Kiri, look! She's so tinyyy." Tuk jumped where she was and shook her sister's arm. How small the people were! This has always amused her. Your age was probably as old as her brothers', but despite this, your body was the size of a child Na'vi.

"Yeah, she is." Kiri murmured. She couldn't take her eyes off you. She was always in an interaction with Eywa that no one could understand. Your presence ignited this interaction, gave a strange feeling that evoked both heaviness and lightness in her heart. She could feel Eywa 'spinning' around you. The reason for this, unfortunately, was unclear to her.

"You are late." Neytiri said.

"We had some little disagreements." He looked at you. "I guess she didn't like me."

He smiled when you frowned at his last imply.

"So you scared her." Neytiri came closer to took you from Jake's arms. When she realized that your hands were tied behind your back, she put her hand to her mouth and gasped. "Oh, Jake! What did you do?"

She immediately put you down and untied your wrists, and then took you in her arms. "I can't believe you did this. Why?" There was disappointment in her voice, but she was harsh.

"You can't imagine how fierce she is. She's a real troublema-"

"No! It can't be your way."

"No-" Jake gave a deep breath and wanted to explain himself but then gave up. "I'll explain to you later."

Neytiri look at you. How big she was compared to you. She rocked you in her arms, same as she were holding her own child. There was no sign of the woman who considered you a threat a few hours ago. She smiled as she held you carefully.

She smiled.

And she smiled very beautifully.

You didn't realize that a Na'vi could be so beautiful. Obviously, she thought the same thing about you. You were very beautiful, too. She realized this, thanks to Eywa.

"How do you feel, my child?" She raised her head a little, making her voice clear and strong.

You didn't expect her question. You just looked at her and blinked.

"Are you afraid?"

You thought about lying when she looked directly into your soul. Her eyes were really sharp and it scared you so much that you couldn't even hide your true feelings. You nodded slowly.

Neytiri softened her expression. She didn't want you to feel the fear. You were Eywa's gift. "You no longer have any reason to be afraid, my child. You are family now."

She said some things that you didn't understand. She seemed like praying, she closed her eyes and whispered. Others were listening.

"Jake." She opened her eyes when she finished. She put you on the ground and left you with their children. Jake followed her and patted your head when he passed. His hand was much bigger than your head and you thought it would crush you.

Being alone with four Na'vi teen didn't make you feel any better. Your form, which stood ready to run away at any moment, did not help them either. Tuk ran in front of you and grabbed you by the arms. "Don't go, please."

"No, Tuk. Don't do it. She's already so scared." Neteyam saved you from his little sister and pressed you to himself. You hugged his legs like you did before and looked at Tuk.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I forgot that your heart is also tiny."

You didn't want the visibly upset child to feel even worse. You left Neteyam's legs and gently held Tuk's hand. You were a little hesitant about it, but she was just a kid. You felt like you had to be nice to her. When her smile instantly appeared on her face, you smiled a little too. There was something about this girl that cheered you up. You couldn't be angry with her or afraid of her. At least for now, everything seemed to be fine.

"Hey, c'mon, let me take you somewhere you'll be comfortable." Lo'ak couldn't hide the irritation in his voice. Neteyam always had to came forward, right? He always knew the right thing, he was always the leader. Lo'ak had no problem with him being responsible, but he hated the way Neteyam pulled you towards him.

Lo'ak didn't care about his brother or Tuk. He came to you quickly and opened his arms, leaning. "Come here."

"No." Neteyam stretched his arm straight towards Lo'ak's chest and threw a light blow at him, knocking him back. Away from you. "Stay where you are."

Lo'ak's eyes flashed with anger. When he hissed, he pushed his brother and knocked him to the ground. "Why are you the only one who is untouchable?"

"Lo'ak stop!" Kiri shouted and tried to pull him back.

And Tuk scared, he ran to his brother on the ground and checked if he was okay. Yes, he was okay. Neteyam was extremely okay actually. His patience overflowed, he stood up and angrily walked over to Lo'ak. Kiri put her hands on the chests of both of them and pleaded wearily. "Now is not the time!"

Neteyam leaned over Lo'ak's face and hissed. "You're acting like a child."

Lo'ak took a long look at his brother and pushed Kiri to the side.

"Wait, calm down." Although Kiri objected, Lo'ak waved his hand that he was fine and pushed her away softly. He needed to be alone. If he left for a while, he could talk to you.

After he looked at your worried face, he turned around and walked away. There was a place where he liked to spend time alone. Yes, he decided to go there. Maybe one day he would take you there too. A lot of fun together-

"C'mon, put your legs around my waist. Let's get you out of here." Neteyam said.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

What a selfish, two-faced...

Lo'ak's mind, which had barely calmed down, was filled with anger again. But this time with intense jealousy and betrayal. He turned back and grabbed his brother by the shoulder, who leaned down and opened his arms to you. He punched him hard in the face and nearly caused him to fall.

You screamed at what happened and jumped backwards. While Kiri was running to separate the two, Tuk hugged you. You didn't know if she hugged because she was scared.

"What's wrong with you?" Kiri screamed and held Neteyam's face but he pushed her away gently. He touched his bleeding nose and shook his head. "Okay, that's it."

He pushed Lo'ak hard, but he jumped to the other side of his brother before he lost his balance too much. When he wanted to throw another punch, Neteyam grabbed his hand and pushed him hard to the ground.

He pressed his arm against his brother's chest and held him steady. "No, you're not acting. You are still a child."

"What the hell is happening here? Lo'ak?" Jake said.

Neytiri went towards to Tuk and you. She hugged you both. How vulnerable you looked hugged each other. "Oh, my babies."

Neteyam got up on top of Lo'ak and grabbed him by the arm to help his brother, but Lo'ak refused him in anger and got up on his own. They both stood facing their father with their heads down. "What the hell was that about?"

Neteyam, who spoke almost all the time, remained silent. He couldn't say it was because of you. He couldn't take the blame too.

"What did you do to your brother's nose?" he raised his voice.

"Jake." Neytiri called out, pointing at you. She shook her head, meaning not now.

"Alright... We're not done yet." Jake said by looking into Lo'ak's eyes and left.

Neytiri followed Jake, taking you and Tuk. Kiri watched her brothers for a while. They stood quietly and looked everywhere besides themselves. She opened her mouth several times to say something, but gave up.

Soon Kiri left them alone. They weren't sure how long their long silence lasted. But Lo'ak couldn't bear to be alone with him anymore. "Sometimes I hate you."

Not seeing Neteyam's hurt expression, he quickly walked away and left his brother alone.

⠀

Tags: @eywas-heir @mashiromochi @jimfiqs @lik0 @givemeaestheticdreams @miwsolovely @gorgeourrific-nerd @soushswag @the-wanderer-2022 @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @orrinwrld @yunagames03 @lovekeeho @dumbpuppi @neteyam4life @abcdefghijk2m6opqrstuv @carolinemacher @cutiebeanuwu @midnightliacr @hobiolli @jubilia @tinyballoonpolice @fluffydragon14 @lovekeeho @blaaathings @user707sthings @tayvintrasj @datsavageavenger @jjkclub @thomsina @secretfirebirdsblog @newjeansbonnie @inluvwithneteyam @happytimek @flaming-vulpix @theblueinhiseyes @zoetrope1997 @minkyungseokie @khaleesi56 @hania11 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @certifiedpussyeater @theyoungeagle

A/N: Some tags don't work, idk why. I'm sorry if you didn't get notified. Also I'm sorry if I missed someone.

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1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt · 1 year

Text

Today on popping the corn and feeding the children, what do you folks think of this discussion? :)

I'm always curious to hear what other Trek fans, especially queer Trek fans, think about our place in Trek history and how we fare as the queer participants within our fandom. What have your experiences been like?

Overwhelmingly I've found a great reception and a welcoming attitude, but I admit that has increased considerably since the 90s. However, there are still some Trek fans who seem to be vehemently in denial about queer history in Star Trek, or the fact that anyone who has worked on Trek has pro-LGBT attitudes. This always surprises me considering some of the blatant queer content we have already seen in Star Trek such as the Jadzia Dax and Lenara Kahn kiss.

Anyway, I enjoyed the discussion that followed and seeing the overwhelming outpouring of support coming from Star Trek fans in response to this thread.

Here was my two cents contribution:

"No, what they said was factual.

Have you forgotten Nichelle Nichols was indeed an African American woman in the core seven bridge crew back in 1966?

Or the fact that Gene Roddenberry went out of his way to write The Motion Picture Novel, creating the term "T'hy'la: friend, brother, lover" so that fans could choose which interpretations of Kirk and Spock they saw fit? He also embraced K/S fans and hired a number of them to write the earliest Star Trek novels, including the very first official one (The New Voyages Vol. 1 & 2) which included slash fiction as well as Gene's approval/forward in the books.

In case anyone has forgotten, here's a little bit of background on Gene Roddenberry and his perspectives on queerness in Star Trek.

He admitted that in his early life he was very affected by how society and culture treated the LGBT community, and that he too found himself subjugating and judging others for that lifestyle because it was what people did at that time. As he got older and had more life experience, he began working with a number of queer artists in Hollywood -- and through TOS, a number of queer individuals began asking questions about Kirk and Spock.

Instead of vehemently shutting down this perspective, Roddenberry was intrigued, and saw potential to tap into a large audience (LGBT) that most others didn't want to go near or acknowledge publicity-wise. He saw it as an opportunity to expand the fanbase while also pushing yet another envelope.

But with the heat already on the show for what they'd already pushed, he found he was often stuck between what he'd like to do and what production would let him get away with. There are a number of Kirk and Spock scenes in scripts that got cut out for leaning a little too obviously romantic. Tiny trickles of that content still made it in were infamous moments like the backrub scene in Shore Leave. Even the 2009 movie had a K/S moment while Spock Prime and Kelvin Spock talked that was written and filmed that was cut out of the final product.

Queer subtext and coding has always been relentlessly weeded away at with an excuse ready to go for why they always try to cut us out, but we all know it's because they are scared of the homophobic backlash and ratings hits. Look how violently homophobes went after the gay romance episode of The Last of Us **just this year**. This has always been our reality, so for someone like Roddenberry to make efforts in the 70s? That was massive.

But Gene as well as the queer/slash Trek community managed to accomplish some things in the 70s which I'm surprised more folks don't talk about or give much credit.

In the same TMP novel which features "T'hy'la" and the famous footnote, Gene cleverly wrote Kirk with a bisexual/pansexual lens: Kirk describes himself as *preferring* women but being open to "physical love in **any** of its many Earthly, alien, and mixed forms." (Direct quote from Genes book). Basically, Captain Kirk was DTF with whoever if there was a connection, which was a very progressive take for a character in a novel written in 1979, but made sense for the future which would have a lot less hang ups about sex and love compared to our current rather puritan/conservative society.

I also prefer women, but I married a man. Shout out to Gene Roddenberry for giving us a seat at the table back in the 70's when folks *still* try to insist there is no place for K/S or queer concepts in Trek, because he made efforts -- however small -- to employ queer people and show queer perspectives. According to David Gerrold, LGBT+ representation was a big thing that Gene personally pushed for in TNG and wanted various depictions of love/couples in the Risa scenes, to name one example.

In the 70s, fanzines led to meetings and swapped fanmade magazines, which got so big that they needed hotel centers, then convention centers, then one day the TOS cast came to one and what we know as modern fan conventions were born -- inspiring even George Lucas who attended Trek conventions in the 70s and saw how popular Trek was in syndication; it was a great climate to launch his Space Opera. Star Wars then became so huge that we got TMP.

But none of that would have happened without the level of organization, passion, and creativity that those fans poured into Star Trek and their characters after it got cancelled and went into syndication.

Without queer folks we wouldn't have George Takei, Theodore Sturgeon who gave us Tribbles, Bill Theiss and his amazing TOS costumes, Mike Minor's art direction, Merritt Butrick, David Gerrold (writer for TOS, TAS, TNG) to name a few of many queer contributors to Trek that Roddenberry respected and tried to go to bat for wherever he could in a climate that was absolutely impossible to gain an inch in.

At a time during the 70s and 80s when so many people resented and feared the queer community and wanted us to disappear, especially in the 80s during the AIDS epidemic which many homophobes claimed was "God's punishment to the gay community" or "Gods's answer" to our "hedonism", thinking we'd gotten our just desserts and should just disappear . . .

During that time, Gene Roddenberry gave us queer folks a place to say: "You know what? Sure. Write your stories. TV says you guys shouldn't exist, they pull books with queer people off the shelves and burn them. Laws exist specifically to forbid you guys from loving each other, and call you mentally ill. You can't even hold hands in public. But I'm going to validate you guys and invite you to write novels or work for me, try to see what we can get by production, and allow you to see yourselves in my characters if you want to. There's a place for you in our fandom."

He gave us bi/pan Kirk, he gave us K/S is open to interpretation. In Phase 2 Kirk's surviving nephew Peter, son of his brother Sam from Operation: Annihilate!, was going to be written as gay and living on the Enterprise with his partner -- that also got chopped and reworked into a script that wouldn't get used until decades later. That was huge at a time that being queer was officially listed as a mental illness, and villainized due to the AIDS crisis.

So before you try to dismiss or tell K/S + queer Trek fans whether or not they deserve a seat at the table, remember that Gene Roddenberry was among the **first** to pull that seat out for us in a climate that was ruthlessly against LGBT+ folks." -- 1Shirt2ShirtRedShirtDeadShirt

P.S: Have some cute bisexual/pansexual K/S pride gifs. :) Pride month is a hop, skip and a jump away.

LLAP!🖖💚

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norrizzandpia · 9 months

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I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You (LN4)

Summary: What if love isn’t enough? What if the obstacles are too great and all the whirlwind romance ends up being is the right person, but wrong time?

Warnings: MAJOORRRRR angst with an ambiguous ending, but I will be writing a part 2 and i PROMISE it will have a happy ending. I hate sad endings. I just felt like leaving yall on a cliff hanger tn!!!! I hope it’s gut wrenching 🤞🏻

“Hi, I was wondering if you knew where Zak Brown’s office was?” That was the first time he heard her voice. Her comforting, calming tone that had flooded all his thoughts and destroyed every trace of thought, leaving in its wake only pictures of her. Lando had turned around at the small, shy sound and found a girl who was slightly shorter than him, her eyes twinkled as she realized who she had just spoken to, yet he couldn’t find it in him to be mad she had interrupted his conversation, being struck by her beauty instead.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” She rushed out as she whipped around and tried to run away, becoming annoyed with herself for potentially ruining the chances of her getting this assistant position.

Lando was quick to jump out and grab her arm, stopping her steps and whipping her around to meet his gaze again, “No, it’s okay. How can I help you?”

He had smiled at her and that was the moment she knew she was done for. The fact that she was on the last round of interviews to become his personal assistant slipped her mind as she stared up at his blue eyes. If you had knocked on her head at that moment, it would have been hollow, completely emptied out by the image of his small grin and flash of teeth.

“Zak Brown’s office?” She tried once more, seemingly surprised he wasn’t a rude, obnoxious driver.

Pointing down a hallway, Lando watched as her eyes left his face and followed down his arm, “It’s just around that corner. You’ll see the plaque on the door.”

With an appreciative look in his direction and a check of the time, she rushed off, mumbling a thanks and that she was going to be late.

Lando’s brain memorized the flash of y/h/c hair that whipped past him and it visited him in his sleep as he realized he had become obsessed with a girl he had spoken to for a singular minute.

—

When she had gotten the job, she’d been ecstatic. Being someone’s assistant wasn’t exactly what she had planned for her life, but the money was good and that was all that mattered to her, seeing as she had been on the verge of being evicted for months. She didn’t anticipate the feelings that would inevitably grow for her boss as the months continued on and neither had Lando.

The moment Zak had told him they had found a girl to take some work off his plate, he had been relieved. However, that feeling was quickly replaced with immense nerves as he recognized the same y/h/c hair from that day in the garage. She had walked through the door of his driver’s suite and the air had been taken out of his lungs entirely. With her fitted black pants and flowy blouse, she had looked picture perfect to him. It was like he had known her better than she knew herself since the second they met. He could see how the outfit was trying to be professional, but also friendly at the exact same time, and he clocked the way her hair had been straightened so as to not overdress the look too much. He could see all the effort and thoughts that went behind every action when no one else could.

They had exchanged their pleasantries and, scarily quickly, fell into the routine. They fit, everyone could see it, just not in the way people thought. While the longing gazes and questionably placed touches seemed like two associates bodily-communicating about PR and work was actually two people yearning for each other. It was weird, Lando thought, how no one, not even fans who were usually quick to see it, saw his love for her. Over the months she became acclimated to the position, he had fallen in love with her quick-learning and determination. Then it was her attention to detail, then her ability to be stern with him when it was needed, then her ways of comforting him without words when races didn’t go well, and then, he realized, he had just fallen in love with all of her.

Although falling in love with her was quite simple, telling her and being with her was not. At first, it was the fact that dating his assistant would not look good for him at all, and then, it was Luisinha.

“Lando, are you ready?” Her voice, once again, halted all thinking that was taking place in his mind.

Looking up from his staring at the wall, he smiled and nodded, “Yeah, it’s just the one interview, right?”

He watched her fingers furiously type out something on the keyboard of her phone before she was giving him her full attention, “Yes, just the one. Then, you have lunch with Luisinha, right?”

Her inquisitive gaze made him laugh as they stepped into the elevator, “Aren’t you supposed to know that?”

She giggled before throwing her head up slightly, “It’s your girlfriend. I don’t track that.”

His head tilted down to capture her eyes once more and the familiar pang of guilt settled in his stomach as his heart did a flip at the sight of her deep y/e/c eyes. When he had started dating Luisinha, he thought his love for Y/n was innocent and would die out the second he ventured out with other women. Though, he had been incredibly wrong. His growing relationship with Luisinha only spurred the feelings for Y/n as he wished it was her he was touching, her he was kissing, her he was holding. When he saw Luisinha’s face, he just wished it was Y/n’s.

“Lando, are you okay?” She asked as her hand waved in front of his face.

Shaking his head to snap himself out of his mind, he smiled down at her, “Yeah, just tired.”

—

As he sat beside Carlos, Charles, and Daniel, Lando zoned out. The interviewer’s voice droned on with a question directed at Daniel as Lando’s eyes wandered to the corner of the room, landing on his beloved. Y/n stood beside Luisinha with her white shirt and loose trousers, looking confused as she stared down at her phone. Her brows knitted together as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, her stare off with the device not looking like it had an end in sight. He thought about being able to freely take her face in his hands and stop her teeth from continuing to gnaw at the skin. He thought about being able to smile and stare at her adoringly as she did the same to him. He thought about what existed beneath her clothes and the idea of being the closest person to her that he already knew what was upsetting her, what was puzzling her.

The waving of Luisinha’s hands made his eyeline shift toward her. She was rolling her eyes and pointing at him and then at the interviewer. He didn’t quite understand what she was trying to signal until Carlos’ voice sounded in his ear, “Mate, answer the question.”

His eyes met the stares of everyone in the room, including Y/n, and his cheeks heated in embarrassment before he asked the woman to repeat her question.

Chuckling, she nodded, “Seems you can’t take your eyes off Luisinha, can you?” God, he could puke, “Sorry, I had to say it. But, that helps me lead into my next question which is: How is life with a girlfriend? She’s the first you’ve dated since you joined the grid and I think the fans are dying to know what one of their favorite couples gets up to when the cameras aren’t around.”

He truly didn’t know what to say. Truthfully, the answer was not pretty. The constant fights, pettiness and child-like frustrations being the only thing that took up him and Luisinha’s time. It had gotten worse when she started coming around the paddock more, Luisinha becoming the one person to see he clearly felt more for his assistant then just something platonic. He hated the way she looked at him when she caught him staring at the girl or the disappointment displayed on her face when they got into a fight and it somehow resorted back to Y/n.

But, he wouldn’t say any of that, putting on a brave face and straining, “Oh, it’s quite lovely! We love having time to ourselves without anyone around to just be together. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Y/n tried not to physically wince at his words. Her growing adoration for him became unbearable when he told her he had a girlfriend. She had been absolutely crushed for months after that, trying so hard to keep track of their plans together, but, ultimately, giving up when she got a notification on her laptop for their 6 month anniversary dinner. After that, she left that part of Lando’s life alone, wanting nothing to do with the pain that left her crying alone in the pitch black of her room every night.

From beside her, Luisinha scoffed quietly, something Y/n was confused by. The two were so clearly in love, yet the girl had thrown out multiple passive aggressive comments about her relationship with Lando in comparison to Y/n’s. It was apparent Luisinha despised Y/n, but the poor girl had no clue why. After countless amounts of conversations with Lando, still, Y/n was lost on why Luisinha hated the sight of her so much.

—

“Really great answer today in the interview.” Luisinha’s voice spoke to Lando as they ate dinner together in silence.

His brows furrowed together, “What answer?”

She laughed dryly, “Oh, you know, the one about how perfect our relationship is even though I’m pretty sure you’re cheating.”

Throwing his hands up in annoyance, Lando looked at her with a shocked look, “What do you want me to say here, Luisinha? First of all, I’m not cheating. Second of all, would you have liked me to say our relationship is crumbling?”

She scoffed, “I don’t know! I’m just sick and tired of the lies.”

Shooting up from the table and throwing his dish in the sink, Lando’s hands tangled in his hair, “I’ve told you so many times there is nothing going on with Y/n and I! What do you want from me?”

Without hesitation, Luisinha stood from her chair and got in his face, “I want you to say it.” She said lowly.

“Say what?” He said, even though he knew exactly what she was hinting at.

“Lando, say it, please. Let us both gain some closure here.” She pleaded with him and the way her eyes glossed over made his heart clench. In the beginning, Luisinha had been like a breath of fresh air for Lando, but, overtime, he realized that it had been just that. A breath. Y/n was all of it to him, every breath for the rest of his life.

His head leaned down as he exhaled a breath, hating the way it had all turned out, “I’m in love with Y/n.”

It was silent for a few moments before he heard soft sniffling, his head turning up to see Luisinha’s tears, “I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t know what I was thinking, acting the way I did. I should have told you, I should have stopped us from happening. I don’t regret being with you, I just regret not handling it all better.”

Luisinha shook her head, “I understand. It’s hard being in love with someone you feel doesn’t love you back.” Her eyes locked with his and he knew the comment was directed at him, something that made a small part of him die. He beat himself up for hurting her the way he had and putting her through something he could have prevented by just distancing himself.

She grabbed her bag and keys off the counter, taking his house key off the chain and placing it down on the counter before looking back up at him, “You know, this whole time, I treated Y/n like shit. I hate that I did that. I hate that I took my anger out on her for something you were doing. I know she doesn’t know how you feel about her which makes my behavior all the more awful because she’s just in the dark about it all. But, Lando, she’s such an amazing person, I think that’s why I was so rude to her. You picked a good one and it’s so clear, so, do me a favor and treat her well, make what happened between us at least worth something in the grand scheme of things.”

With tears coming down his face, he nodded at her as she smiled softly and walked out of his house, out of his life. Letting go of Luisinha, while bone-crushing, was something that was destined to happen. No matter what decision he could have made to change the way everything played out, he knew every choice would have led him back to Y/n. Because, in the end, she was it for him.

Now, he just needed to find out if he was it for her too.

—

Unsurprisingly, Lando couldn’t find the nerve to confess his feelings to Y/n for months. After his breakup with Luisinha, he made a plan of how he was going to breach it all with her, but the moment she walked through the door the morning after, he understood it would take a considerable amount of time for him to gain the confidence.

Nevertheless, the breakup was hard for Y/n too. With an apology text from Luisinha on Instagram detailing how sorry she was for how she treated Y/n, the assistant was left to wonder why the two broke up. The idea that they broke up because Lando had some deeply repressed feelings for her popped into her head once or twice, but she quickly squashed them. In her mind, it wasn’t possible for Lando Norris to love her the way she loved him. No matter how well it fit into the narrative, the odds of the British driver thinking she was the world just like she thought he was was preposterous.

So, the two went on, coexisting around each other, avoiding each other, and stealing glances when the other wasn’t looking. While they had a set routine, they adopted a new one, filled with Lando pining for her and Y/n going back to her house every night to cry over mixed signals and the way Lando’s hand brushing up against hers had felt more than innocent.

This was the period of time when everyone else began to pick up on the years of pent up emotions swirling between the two. Carlos and Daniel were the first to notice the way Lando had exited the room immediately after Charles made a comment about Y/n being attractive. The two had chalked it up to him being overprotective, but that quickly slipped up when they were all at a wedding and Can’t Help Falling in Love by Kina Grannis came on and Lando’s eyes quickly diverted to Y/n. At that moment, Carlos and Daniel shared a sympathetic look. It had all clicked for them in that second. The secretiveness around why he and Luisinha had broken up, the ‘overprotectiveness’ when it came to Y/n, the longing glances and questionably placed touches. It all made sense and they had never felt more stupid.

Then, the knowledge spread throughout the paddock. It was like the moment the two drivers closest to Lando knew, everyone else did. Of course, no one ever mentioned it to either of the two, wanting to see how long it would take for them to “get off their asses and realize how in love they are”.

Although, none of them could have anticipated the harsh fight that would jeopardize the happy ending the couple was supposed to have according to them.

—

“What was that?” Y/n slammed the door to his driver’s suite shut as they stormed into the room.

Lando whipped around to face her, hands in his hair and tears already stinging his eyes, “Y/n, I-”

“No, Lando, why didn’t you give me a heads up? Why didn’t you let me know that you were going to go on live television and ruin my career?” She pleaded with him as she saw red.

Lando watched his world slip out of his hands, “I wasn’t planning on it, Y/n. I wasn’t planning on getting asked if I was in love with you? The question took me off guard! I didn’t mean to say it like that. You know I would never try to ruin your reputation ever.”

She laughed, “Really? Because you just did. Saying you’ve always been in love with me? People are going to think you cheated on Luisinha with me! Hell! It doesn’t matter if they can’t find proof. You just admitted to loving another person while being with another woman. But, it won’t matter for you because you’ll be high-fived and I’ll be called a slut. I’m fucking ruined!”

“You’re not ruined, Y/n. This will blow over.” He took a step near her, trying to comfort her shaking hands, but she didn’t let him. She took a step back.

“You don’t understand, Lando. You never will.” She shook her head as she gathered all her things, the items Lando loved to look at when he was alone because he loved that there were signs of her presence everywhere he went. She was erasing her existence from this room and Lando couldn’t help, but feel like, in turn, she was erasing herself from his heart.

“Y/n, please. I’m sorry.” He begged as he grasped her hand, the one that wasn’t turning the door knob.

Turning back around and meeting his eyes with her teary ones, she spoke softly, “Lando, let me go.”

It didn’t take long for him to understand the deeper meaning of her words. She wanted him to forget about her. She wanted her mark on his life to be erased and the love he felt for her to be wiped from existence. She wanted to be gone, a distant memory of a person he would have to try hard to remember the name of in the years to come.

Yet, her name was something he dreamed of, a few letters stitched together that were embedded in his mind.

He could never forget her.

However, he did let her hand go. Watching her walk out the door, down the hallway, and disappear behind the orange door, his mind forced him to remember the clothes she wore, the way her hair had been styled. Anything. Anything that could count as another memory of her before she was all gone.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #angst #mclaren #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri #Spotify

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subskz · 11 months

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ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 03

note: this is part 3 of a series (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, slight jealousy, brief mentions of alcohol, sickness, academic stress, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, chan has a bit of a breakdown, bathing scene, nsfw scenes

18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, praise, possessiveness, biting/marking, the slightest hint of exhibitionism, chan is very needy, stopping in the middle of a scene, oral (reader receiving), lots of begging, crying during and after sex, nursing, handjob, aftercare

word count: 22.6k

There were parts of Chan in everything you did now.

It took a while, but eventually, it dawned on you with a strange sort of delight that you’d subconsciously taken on his habit of pressing his lips together into a thin line—when giving a quick smile, when lost in thought, and, most importantly, when silently dissatisfied. For such a subtle movement, you found that, at times, it expressed your frustration better than voicing it ever could. A Chan-like quality, through and through.

Likewise, he’d adopted your habit of reaching up to brush the tip of your nose whenever you felt self-conscious. Of all the quirks he could’ve picked up on, naturally, it had to be one he could make ample use of. Now, any time your gaze lingered on him for a bit longer than necessary (which admittedly, was often) his thumb would swipe over the adorable apex of his nose, a shy half-smile following the action like clockwork. It took some audacity, really, for him to steal a mannerism of yours and make it infinitely more endearing.

Even less obvious details were fair game for the two of you to snatch up, from mirroring each other’s walks, to parroting certain words and phrases. You’d melded into one another, so much that, in some cases, you weren’t quite sure which traits he’d gotten from you, and which traits you’d gotten from him.

You wondered if the marks you’d left on each other were what had landed you in the situation you found yourself in now.

“Betrayal! That’s what this is! A Sanrio pencil stabbed straight through my giant, loving heart!”

It had been a good five minutes of this. Changbin was back from summer break—skin tanned, hair fluffy, muscles somehow more defined than ever—and with the way his voice echoed shamelessly throughout the cafe, he was making sure everyone knew it. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to greet him properly before the one-man show (which you’d prepared for, but clearly not enough) began; starring none other than Seo Changbin himself, of course.

“Please calm down before you get us kicked out.”

“Calm down, she says!” he cried. “You’re a real scary person, y’know that? Hiding this from me, your good friend, Changbin—your best friend, Changbin—all this time!”

You felt a tinge of guilt for what wasn’t the first time. Despite the melodrama of it all, you knew that he had a point. There was no reason for you to have kept something like this from him for so long, especially when it involved not only one, but two of his closest friends.

“I’m sorry, Bin,” you sighed. “I really did wanna tell you. I was just worried it’d make everything so awkward.”

“Well, of course it’s awkward,” he agreed. “But I still want to know! At least that way, we can feel awkward together!”

Something about his reasoning made you soften. It was just like him, to be more concerned that he’d missed out on the chance of being a supportive friend rather than the potential mess that could stem from your involvement with Chan. You would probably do well to have a little more faith in people—a message the universe seemed to have been hammering into your brain a great deal lately.

“Maybe I would’ve told you if you’d talked to me more than once over your entire vacation,” you teased.

Changbin’s mouth fell open in protest, suddenly finding himself playing defense. “Twice!” he corrected indignantly. “And don't try to spin this on me! What about when you called me, huh? That was the perfect opportunity!”

“The perfect opportunity?” you echoed in disbelief. “In that case, I’ll be sure to follow up your birthday wishes next year with news that I’m dating your best friend.”

“Scary, scary person,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m almost afraid to ask for a hug—you’re not gonna put a knife in my back are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s in the air back home that makes you act like this?”

Still, you felt nothing but fondness as you leaned fully into him, letting it sink in for the first time just how happy you were to see him again. With the way his big arms squeezed around you, you knew he wasn’t truly upset either—even if, quite frankly, he had a right to be.

“I missed you, though,” you patted his back. “You and all your drama.”

“Well, I missed you too,” he huffed. Just when you thought he might be ready to drop the theatrics and move on, he pulled away from the hug, a horrified look forming on his face.

“Oh my God…have I been third wheeling this entire time?”

“Get in line, Seo Changbin.”

His nagging and whining eventually died down, morphing into more playful jabs as the two of you ordered your drinks and found a table to sit at. Exactly as you’d predicted, once he’d recovered from the initial shock, he was all proud grins and smug righteousness, preaching on and on about how he’d told you so from day one and how you should never doubt him or his genius intuition ever again.

“I was mostly joking when I said all that stuff about you falling in love with him, y’know,” he clicked his tongue. “Didn’t think you’d actually go and do it.”

“I’m not in love with him,” you tried to retort, but much to your dismay, your voice cracked right as you uttered the dreaded word.

“No way,” Changbin broke out into cackles of pure glee. “Don’t tell me you went and had a secret wedding without me, too?”

You shoved your straw into your iced coffee with a bit too much force, face heating up. “The more you laugh, the more you sound like someone who isn’t getting his belated birthday present.”

At that, he clamped his jaws shut, giggles halting with a speed that was almost impressive. “Sorry, sorry,” he gave you a sheepish grin. “Behaving, now.”

“How’d you find out, anyway? Did Chan tell you?”

“Nah. Though, I should’ve guessed just from the way he gets whenever you’re brought up. All shy and smiley, it’s honestly kinda nauseating.”

He scrunched his nose up in distaste, but the words had no real edge to them. In fact, there was nothing but affection there. It made your heart skip a beat, embarrassingly enough, to know that just the mention of you was all it took to have that kind of effect on Chan. Every time you thought you couldn’t possibly be more taken by him, he proved you wrong.

“If not Chan, then who?” you hesitated before asking. “Minho?”

“Hey,” the whine was back in his voice. “Why’s it so hard for you to believe I figured it out myself?”

You said nothing, smiling around your straw and sipping contently away at your coffee.

“Yes, it was Minho,” he grumbled.

Though you’d been expecting it, the confirmation still made your skin crawl, overtaking Chan’s warmth with a cold discomfort. You hadn’t seen or heard from Minho since your encounter in the convenience store a few weeks ago, and each time you thought back to him, the pit of unease in your stomach grew stronger. You wondered just how much he’d told Changbin. Judging by his behavior that day, he seemed to be aware of everything—whether he was the type to mince his words, or to expose it all without a care in the world, you weren’t quite sure. Even if you’d spent more time around the guy before he’d decided to switch up on you, you got the feeling that you still wouldn’t have any clearer insight into how his mind worked.

“Speaking of Minho,” you began slowly. “Has he…said anything lately?”

Changbin snorted. “He’s said a lot of things.”

“Sorry. I mean, like, about me.”

“I don’t think so,” he squinted, eyeing you up and down. “Why? Are you planning on picking off my friends one by one?”

It was lighthearted, just a joke, but it nearly made you grimace. You’d be glad to never even cross paths with Minho again if it meant avoiding that harsh, accusatory glare that had yet to fade from your mind. Experiencing it once was more than enough.

“C’mon, Bin. It’s nothing like that.”

“Uh-huh, that’s what you said last time.”

You gave a half-hearted chuckle in response, only noticing a moment too late how unconvincing it’d come out. It caught his attention, and he glanced up from his drink to give you a curious look.

“Everything alright?”

You were reluctant to confide in Changbin about the matter, both to avoid burdening him with something so silly, and because of the very unavoidable fact that Minho was just as dear a friend to him as Chan. He’d only just found out about your relationship; immediately piling its potential problems on him was the last thing you wanted to do. At the same time, however, you figured it was better to ask someone who knew Minho well before you jumped to conclusions. Not to mention, Changbin might genuinely believe you were interested in rounding up all his friends if you didn’t clarify why you’d brought up the subject of Minho in the first place.

“I saw him a few weeks ago, and he was being kinda weird.”

“No issues there.”

“Not in his usual way, though—at least, I don’t think so?” you tried to be careful with your words, acutely aware of how sensitive you may come off if you chose the wrong ones. “I just got the feeling that he doesn’t really like me all that much. So, I was wondering if he’s brought it up with you.”

Changbin frowned, taking a moment to mull over what you’d said.

“You think Minho doesn’t like you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “What’d he say to you?”

“Just some weird things about me and Chan,” you shrugged. “It almost felt like he was trying to intimidate me, or something. Like, he thinks I have bad intentions.”

A troubled look crossed his face—brief, but just long enough to foster your unease. He went quiet for a few moments, nibbling thoughtfully on his bottom lip, then, at last, gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Nah, that can’t be it.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“Minho knows you’re not like that,” he said simply. “And he wouldn’t just hate you for no reason, either. Definitely not it.”

You made a small noise of acknowledgement, pretending to understand what he meant, but Changbin still seemed to sense that he hadn’t gotten through to you.

“You’ve seen the way he acts around us, right? He’s probably just messing with you now that he feels more comfortable,” his voice mellowed. “He might seem difficult, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s a pretty great guy, actually. Soft at heart.”

“I believe you,” you murmured. You didn’t doubt for a second that he was a good friend to Changbin and Chan; you’d witnessed it firsthand in the time you’d spent around them. The problem was, you seemed to have done something to land yourself as the target of his inexplicable wrath, and you weren’t sure how to get yourself out of the line of aim before his eyes pierced an arrow straight through you.

“Maybe you’re right. I must’ve just misunderstood him.”

“He’s easy to misunderstand,” Changbin reassured you. An unpleasant thought appeared to cross his mind, twisting the small smile tugging at his lips right back into a frown. “Just…don’t tell him I said any of that. He didn’t put you up to this, did he?”

“Of course not,” you grinned. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Though you weren’t entirely sold on Changbin’s reasoning, it was at least worth a shot to reconcile with Minho before completely giving up on a positive relationship with him. It wasn’t even so much that you were hurt by his unexpected hostility, you just wanted to know what had caused it. You wanted to fix it.

In fact, you were determined to fix it. For both your sakes, and—most importantly—for Chan’s, you were going to make it right.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

College parties, as it turned out, were still very plainly, very aggressively, not your scene. Even with Chan and Changbin there, even with some of the most talented students on campus putting on performances that were, unsurprisingly, really, really good, even with the three-month long promise of getting to see 3RACHA live finally coming to fruition, you were having a hard time enjoying yourself.

You didn’t think it was possible to be experiencing this many different emotions at once. Every one of your senses was suffocated with something. The stinging smell of alcohol, the uncomfortable sheen of sweat on your skin, the perpetual ringing in your ears, the swarming mass of people, and the residual taste of artificial strawberry—the only refreshment you’d managed to take a few sips of before being swept away into the crowd over an hour ago. You were overwhelmed, you were exhilarated, you were anxious, you were impatient. You appeared completely calm amidst the chaos ensuing all around you, yet somehow, were more of a mess internally than even the most intoxicated of attendees.

You’d spent a majority of your time scattered, tossed amongst your friends at random intervals throughout the night. Fifteen minutes with Changbin before he and Jisung had retreated to the bathroom to practice their lyrics, twenty minutes with Iseul before she and her boyfriend had gotten into a heated argument about him not matching the energy of her dancing (something you were sure to get earful of later), thirty minutes with various friends from class before realizing in dismay that they consisted almost exclusively of touchy and crybaby drunks, and a mere five minutes with Chan.

Shortly after the party had begun, you’d arrived to find him already looking cheerfully exhausted. He’d been there for hours already, having offered to help the committee with all the setup and decorations for the event. Even once the festivities were in full swing, he was still dashing around the venue left and right, assisting with soundchecks and the transfer of equipment with hardly any time to prepare for his own performance, let alone to socialize. It warmed your heart as much as it tugged at it. Even on a night where he should be his own top priority, he was still bending over backwards to help everyone else but himself.

It lasted until he was all but forced to stop, dragged away by Changbin and Jisung to set up for 3RACHA’s showcase. The moment you’d been anticipating all night—all summer, really—the sole reason you were even putting up with an environment so out of your wheelhouse to begin with, came at last. The three men shuffled on to the makeshift stage with an awkward sort of swagger that you only ever saw in them when they were together. It was like each one of them needed the other two with him to lock properly into place, to align their energies and bring out the best in each other like a finely-tuned machine. In a way, that in itself was a testament to the song they’d be performing.

The familiar sirens you’d heard countless times before, pumping through your phone speakers in a personal concert, now blared through the hall for everyone to hear. Chan’s eyes fell from the screen of his laptop where he’d been getting things situated, landing directly on you without even having to search the crowd. He gave you a grin, dimples flashing, and that was the last you saw of it for the next three minutes and thirty seconds.

You’d already had an idea of what Jisung was capable of based on the handful of 3RACHA songs you’d heard, but to see it unfold in person was something entirely different. The goofy, scatterbrained junior that always looked a bit on-edge every time you spotted him, now rapping at the speed of light with each word flowing like torrents in a stream. Something about the way he read the lyrics directly off his phone, even for a performance like this, made it all the more mesmerizing to watch. He was the kind of person you could tell was a hidden genius.

Changbin became every bit as fierce and intimidating as you’d initially believed him to be the first day you’d met. Voice raspy and eyes dark, looking straight into the crowd almost like he was challenging them with each effortless line he spit out. It served as a reminder that all his drama and flair wasn't just something you could tease him for; it was something he could own the stage with, as well. His pride radiated off of him in waves; not only in himself, but in them as a unit, and every ounce of it was justified in your eyes.

Undoubtedly the most drastic transformation, however, was Chan. From the moment Zone began, the boy you’d come to know seemed to go dormant for a while, replaced with something you’d never quite seen in him before—something approaching confidence. You thought back to that day in the library, where you’d tried to imagine in amusement how someone like him, who could hardly look you in the eye while playing snippets of his Placebo instrumental, could be the one behind such powerful lines. You didn’t have to imagine it now. He had the least parts out of the trio—you were certain he’d chosen Zone as a way to give Jisung and Changbin more time to shine—but he made just as great of an impact. You could feel the effects of it, on you and everyone else around you. There was no question about it; he belonged there.

By the time the performance was over, you could add a few new emotions to the ones swirling inside you: happiness, pride, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You found Changbin amidst the sea of people first, weaving and dodging through the crowd until you reached him, or, rather, crashed directly into him. His face broke out into a wide smile as soon as he realized it was you, barely getting the chance to say anything before you pulled him into a hug.

“So?” you could hear the giddiness in his voice as he gave you a tight squeeze.

“You killed it, Bin! That’s gotta be the best you've ever sounded,” you hoped he could hear your praises over the pandemonium. “You gonna remember me when you’re famous?”

He pulled away with a laugh, lifting his chin in—mostly—feigned bravado. “I’ll consider it,” his eyes sparkled. “Did you notice the new move I did?”

“Obviously,” you imitated his stylish salute with two fingers, and his smile grew even wider. “And what’s with that sound you made at the start of your verse?”

“It’s my new signature!” he declared.

“So cool! You’re so cool, Seo Changbin!” You threw a hand over your heart with a giggle, and he bumped his shoulder against yours, suddenly embarrassed.

If he said something in response, you didn’t quite catch it, effectively losing all focus the instant your eyes caught sight of a group of people gathered nearby. Chan was at its center, grinning from ear to ear as he tried to keep up with everyone’s chattering all at once. A visual of him you’d pictured so many times before, now right before your eyes—a charming, social butterfly who made befriending others look as simple as breathing. It truly sank in at that moment, that the boy who’d come to mean so much to you in so little time, had a whole other side to his world that you didn’t even know of. The view of his thousand-watt smile wasn’t for your eyes alone, the pieces of himself that he put into his music weren’t solely for your ears.

It made your heart sing; he should be adored. But at the same time, that sensation from earlier made its presence known once again. The girl next to him, the head organizer for the event, if you remembered correctly, reached out to touch his arm as she laughed. Her hand lingered for a moment too long, a look you knew all too well swimming in her eyes.

Oh. Suddenly, the mystery feeling wasn’t so much of a mystery anymore.

Something ignited deep within you, completely different from the familiar heat Chan set off in your skin. It was immediately followed by a wave of embarrassment. You weren’t the type to bristle over something so small—at least, you’d never thought you were. You wanted to blame it on something; the fact that you hadn’t seen Chan for most of the night, the fact that it felt a bit too reminiscent of what he used to do whenever you’d dared to take your attention off of him for even a moment. But Chan would never even think to pull anything like that, it went against his nature. His nature just so happened to entail being adored wherever he went.

You knew it was nothing more than that same selfishness that had reared its head the night you’d first slept together. Not quite insecurity, and not quite jealousy. It was rooted in something much simpler: a matter of what felt right, and what didn’t. You’d wanted to be done with the troublesome feeling from the moment you’d first encountered it—to nip it in the bud before it sprouted into something uglier—but just like everything about your relationship with Chan, it was out of your hands. It was inevitable. With the wholeness that came with his presence, an emptiness was left in his absence.

“Oh my God,” Changbin’s exasperated voice cut through the music, and, in turn, the thoughts swarming your head. “Stare any harder and he might just burst into flames.”

You blinked, embarrassment increasing tenfold. “Sorry, Binnie,” you muttered. “What were you saying?”

He gave you a knowing nudge. “Just go talk to him so I don’t have to look at your lovesick face anymore.”

“Not lovesick,” you protested, but the way your eyes darted right back to Chan did nothing to help your case. You found him staring at you this time, his overwhelmed beam shifting into something softer, sweeter—a look of relief. He dismissed himself from the group just as your feet were preparing, almost reflexively, to pull you in his direction. You turned to give Changbin another apologetic glance, only for him to roll his eyes and gesture for you to leave.

“I need to find Jisung, anyway,” he told you. “Talking to more than one stranger at a time probably has him looking for an escape route.”

Promising to meet up with him again later, you parted ways, a strange sense of calm washing over you as you came face to face with Chan at last. The pungent smell in the air was replaced with his fresh citrus, the clamoring sounds around you suddenly much quieter in your ears, as if waiting with bated breath to hear what he had to say.

“Hey, you,” he grinned.

“Hi, Channie,” you held out your hands, skin tingling when he rested his palms against yours. Slightly clammy from the adrenaline rush of the performance, but soft to the touch. Warm as ever.

“So, were you ever planning on telling me that you’re a shapeshifter?”

“A shapeshifter?” he giggled, more melodic than any of the music you’d heard that night.

“Those moves? The growling?” you marveled. “Even the way you carried yourself; you really know how to put on a show.”

Chan’s fingers—topped off with black nail polish, you noticed for the first time—twitched in your hands, resisting the urge to reach up and adjust his cap, tug at his ear, swipe over his nose, do something to try and alleviate his embarrassment.

“Did you like it? Or was it too much? I know this one’s your favorite, so…”

…I hope I didn’t mess it up. You could hear the words on the tip of his tongue without him even finishing. They were clear in every nervous flicker in his expression, every awkward shift in his feet.

“Are you kidding?” you rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand. “You were made for this.”

The flashing lights around you illuminated his face just in time for you to see his eyes widen. It almost made you sad—the genuine shock etched into his features.

“Ah…” he ducked his head, speechless. Suddenly, you completely understood why he’d been reluctant to ask you to attend the showcase. You should’ve known by now; Chan didn’t have to play coy to endear you, he accomplished that just fine by simply being himself.

“You really think so?” He kept his stare glued to the floor.

“Of course. Everyone else can see it, too,” you added. “I’m really proud of you, Channie.”

His cap hid his expression from your view, but you were certain that his brilliant smile was there—the one you loved so much, the one so wide that it couldn’t be contained, swelling his cheeks and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Thank you,” it was meek, barely audible above the roar of the crowd. “That means a lot.”

You wanted to dip your head under the brim of his hat and meet his gaze, to let him know just how much you meant it. You wanted to kiss him, unconcerned with the people around you who might see—in fact, it only strengthened the desire, the chance to witness his cute, flustered reaction to a public display like that.

Your hesitation lasted a split second too long, however, as you spotted a fresh group of people approaching the two of you; some faces recognizable, some entirely new. You kept your smile as they made their way over with shouts and cheers, but your hand gripped Chan’s just a bit tighter.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Tonight was full of firsts for you, it seemed.

Attending a university party without leaving within the first hour, mingling with more people than you’d ever thought existed on campus, and now, as you currently were, lacking so much in self-control that you were pressed up against Chan in the venue bathroom.

You weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up there, the only thing you were sure of was the slew of emotions leading into it. Chan could tell that you were antsy, and, maybe, he was feeling antsy too. The number of times you’d been separated throughout the night only to drift right back to each other was too many to count. It got to the point where the final time it happened, you’d opted for linking arms to avoid getting lost again.

You wanted to go home—you’d been more than ready to from the moment 3RACHA had finished performing—and you would’ve gladly left Chan to enjoy the rest of the event with his endless rotation of friends if it weren’t for the fact that every time you were apart for too long, he’d go looking for you. At first, you’d tried to tell him not to worry himself over whether or not you were having fun, but eventually, you realized with a flutter in your chest that it wasn’t just his usual attentiveness at play; he wanted you next to him.

When he’d asked if you wanted to retreat somewhere quieter for a bit, it had been innocent enough. You didn’t think he’d expected things to head in this direction—you certainly hadn’t. With your vigilance and his shyness, neither of you were exactly the type.

“This okay?”

“Mhm,” he breathed against your lips. The faint pounding of the bass outside could still be heard through the bathroom door, but you were much more fixated on Chan’s racing heartbeat.

“You look—mmph—so pretty tonight,” he slurred. “Been wanting to kiss you.”

His voice still had the faintest rasp to it after the strain of performing, exciting you more than it probably should’ve. “You’re so sweet,” you cooed, pressing a peck to the corner of his mouth. “How do you think I felt seeing you up on that stage?”

He made a soft noise, unable to protest when you took his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking delicately and making him melt into you. His mouth fell open for you to devour freely. His hands, which had been hovering uncertainly over your hips, rested on them at last. From the way his fingers constricted around your clothes, you knew he was itching to bring you closer; he always was.

“You don’t believe me?” You pulled back just slightly, tugging at his plush skin between your teeth as you did. He tasted sweet, even sweeter than usual. The same artificial strawberry you’d tried earlier in the night. Gently, you used your hold on his cheeks to turn his head in the direction of the mirror.

Chan’s eyes fell instantly, avoiding his reflection like second nature.

“Look at yourself, Channie,” you encouraged. “I want you to see what I see.”

A quiet whine built in his throat, but he complied nonetheless, meeting his own, timid gaze in the mirror. You let your hands slip from his cheeks to give him a clear view of his face, shifting your position so that you stood behind him, admiring the view together.

“Pretty boy,” you drawled, running your hands along his shoulders. “For someone who’s so good at reading people, you’re clueless about how bad they really want you.”

He tensed up, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “What?”

“You didn’t notice?” You tilted your head. “That's okay. It’s cute, actually.”

Your lips found his neck, breath fanning over his warm skin in a way that made goosebumps rise to the surface. Keeping your eyes locked on his reflection, you pressed a trail of kisses down his throat, doing little to hide how high your emotions were running.

“D-did something bother you?” he stuttered out, and if you hadn’t known him any better, you might’ve thought he was trying to tease you. Hearing him say it out loud nearly made you cringe at yourself. It was so trivial, so ridiculous. You didn’t want him to see that side of you—a side you’d hardly even known you had before tonight. Still, the burning sensation had grown too strong for you to ignore anymore, with each suggestive touch or longing glance thrown Chan's way serving as fuel to the fire.

“Why would I be bothered?” you said at last. “They don’t get to see you like this.” His breath hitched as you grazed your teeth along his skin. “Or hear you like this. Do they?”

“N-no,” he agreed. “Just you.”

Just you. You wondered if he’d said it knowing full well the kind of effect it would have on you.

“Do you like all the attention?”

He pressed his lips together, averting his eyes from the mirror again. It was subtle, but you could’ve sworn his hips jutted forward just a bit.

“I like your attention,” he said softly.

Another perfect answer from a perfect boy. Your hands fell from his shoulders, sliding down his body to give his waist a squeeze through the thin material of his shirt. “You deserve it,” you licked a stripe up his neck. “All of it. Who wouldn’t go crazy over you when you look like this?”

“I…” He bit his lip, no doubt to hold back what he really wanted to say. “Please, ‘m getting shy.”

You were almost tempted to grab hold of his chin and tilt his head up, giving him no choice other than to take in the breathtaking sight of himself. But judging by his bright red ears and restless squirming under your palms, he was flustered enough already—so much that you worried it may actually mortify him to face his appearance on top of your praises reverberating in his mind. Instead, you pressed more wet kisses to his neck, hands roaming further down his body and feeling up the expanse of his stomach, right above the waistband of his pants. He whimpered, pushing his hips forward much more noticeably this time.

“It’ll be bad if we get caught,” you hummed. “Keep quiet, Channie.”

Chan sucked in a sharp breath as you ran your tongue along his ear. You took his hoop piercing between your teeth, tugging at it in a gentle, but deliberate taunt.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “You know I can't.”

You smiled deviously around the silver. “I know.”

The sound of your voice was nothing short of intoxicating, smooth and sultry and pooling heat in his abdomen at an alarmingly quick rate. Your fingers traced over the buttons of his jeans, playing with them in a tortuous dance, but not quite popping them open. The material was already starting to feel tight around him, and when you fully cupped the area without warning, his mouth fell open to spill out a shaky moan.

Your heart jumped; he was so sensitive, reduced to the flushed, noisy mess you saw before you with just a few touches and kisses. You thought back to what he’d said that night—about how it’d been a while—a small part of you wondering if that was the real reason, or if he was just always this reactive. It thrilled you like nothing else, the prospect of him being so vocal, so vulnerable to every bit of stimulation no matter how many times he’d felt it before.

“Maybe that’s what you want? For everyone to hear all these pretty sounds you make for me.”

You dragged your tongue up from his lobe, swirling it around the shell of his ear and practically tasting the heat radiating off the reddened skin. Frantically, Chan tried to mask another moan, hands gripping the sink for support.

“No—ah—just you. Only for you.”

“Only me?” You gave him a squeeze, curling your fingers around his growing bulge and making him shudder against you. “Should I make sure they know that?”

He peeked up at last from under the brim of his cap, eyes already so foggy, lips already puffed. Your mouth traveled down from his ear, pressing a kiss right to the junction of his shoulder and neck. A light hiccup escaped him when your front teeth tickled the flesh, threatening to bite down in full.

“Can I?” you checked.

Chan leaned in further so that nearly all his weight was resting against the sink, knees weakening at the mere thought of what you were going to do. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Please.”

“It’ll show,” you warned, basking in the feel of his pulse beneath your lips.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want it to.”

Any composure you had left was no match for the desperation in his voice. He always knew exactly what to say—or, rather, anything he said was exactly what you wanted to hear, solely because it came from him. Without wasting another moment, you sank your teeth into his neck, wrapping your lips around the patch of skin to create a hot, delicious suction that nearly made Chan fold in half.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp cry escaping him despite his best efforts. You tightened your grasp on him in an attempt to keep him steady, but the added pressure to his length only seemed to make things worse. He whimpered something incoherent, hips rolling forward to grind into your palm—uncharacteristically shameless of him.

You sucked to your heart’s content, nibbling and running your tongue along the sensitive area until you were certain a mark would be left behind for days to come. When you finally released his flesh from between your teeth, Chan was all but panting, face scrunched up with pleasure and bulge twitching in your hand. You gave the mark a delicate lick, soothing the flared skin while he caught his breath.

“Mine.”

It sent a shiver down his spine. Just as you were preparing to sully a new spot on his neck, a sudden knock on the bathroom door made you both freeze in place. His body stiffened against yours, head shooting up in a panic.

“Is anyone in here?” a girl’s voice came muffled through the distant rumble of the music.

The doorknob wobbled, and you steeled yourself to respond, knowing that Chan was in absolutely no state to.

“Yeah, just a minute!” you called, throwing out the first excuse you could conjure. “My friend’s feeling a bit sick.”

Carefully, to avoid drawing out any more questionable noises from the boy, you pulled your hand away from his crotch and peeled yourself off of him. He straightened up as best he could, blinking rapidly to clear the haze from his eyes. Guilt pricked at you, among other things, for allowing the situation to get to this point, but even as Chan urgently tried to adjust himself so the hardness in his pants would be less obvious, he didn’t look upset—not in the slightest. He gave you a sheepish half-smile when he met your gaze, eyes gleaming with pure, unfettered adoration.

You smoothed out your clothes, trying to ignore the very prominent ache between your legs.

“Sorry, Channie,” you murmured. “I guess I got carried away.”

His fingers brushed tentatively over the mark you’d left, cheeks matching the shade of his ears. “S’alright,” he licked his lips. “I like it.”

He had to stop saying that—for the sake of your sanity, if nothing else. You cleared your throat, reminding yourself that there was, in fact, some poor soul out there waiting impatiently for the restroom.

“And all the…possessive stuff I—” you paused. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“Too much?” he cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t notice?”

A repeat of your question from earlier. You went quiet for a moment, trying to decode the meaning behind it. Everything that had transpired throughout the course of the evening flooded your thoughts at once: the fixed stares from across the room, the hand-holding, the arm-linking, the search for you every time you strayed too far. Butterflies fluttered to life your stomach the instant you wrapped your head around it.

“Oh.”

His giggles mixed with yours, light and timid. How very like him, to admit so openly to the exact feeling you’d been hoping to hide. Hiding with him was a fruitless endeavor, anyway.

You rested your hand on his lower back, reaching for the handle with your other. “Look sick,” you whispered.

Chan leaned over slightly, masking both the lingering flush on his cheeks and the blossoming lovebite on his neck. On the opposite side of the door, you found none other than the event organizer standing there, watching the two of you inquisitively as you shuffled out of the bathroom. You gave her a polite dip of your head, and Chan offered a quick greeting as you ushered him along. You weren’t proud of it, but any self-consciousness you’d felt before was instantly overtaken by that selfish satisfaction.

As the two of you re-entered the fray, your hand slid down from Chan’s back, allowing him to walk normally again—or, as normally as he could when he was still very much trying to ebb the arousal you’d set off in him. He flexed his fingers as they brushed against yours, lacing them together before you could even think to pull away.

By some miracle, you managed to locate the other two thirds of 3RACHA with just a bit of sifting through the crowd. The relief was short-lived, however, alarm gripping you in its place when you noticed who was standing with them. Lee Minho.

It was no surprise that he was there, but you’d somehow managed to go the entire night without catching so much as a single glimpse of him. A part of you had been grateful for it, but the other part was also itching to see him. Ever since your conversation with Changbin, you’d become more and more ashamed about the way you’d acted with Minho in the convenience store. He’d rubbed you the wrong way, sure, but you were certain that your reaction had only made the situation worse. This was your chance to fix it, to dodge the arrow before he could finish drawing back his string.

“It’s completely different,” you heard him insist as you and Chan approached the group. He was engaged in what appeared to be a very serious debate with a very confused Jisung. “It’s like iced coffee versus hot coffee that’s been out for too long; they’re both cold, but one’s supposed to be, the other isn’t.”

Jisung blinked, lips parting and closing several times over the next few seconds. You’d never quite witnessed someone’s thought process unfolding in real time like that before. Even if you’d caught the full discussion between the two, the look on his face told you that you still wouldn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going on.

“I’ll be honest, man, you lost me three analogies ago.”

Minho clicked his tongue, looking ready to drop another equally convoluted explanation. Instead, he fell silent when he spotted you, the delighted smirk of someone who knew he was being difficult transforming into something much harsher, much less natural. It nearly made you wince. You’d never been particularly close with the guy, but you’d thought you were at least reaching a point where he’d grown comfortable enough to approach you with the same casualness he did with the rest of his friends. It bothered you more than you wanted to admit, that the first sign of friendship sprouting between you had been trampled on for reasons that you didn’t even know, nor comprehend.

His stare flickered between you and Chan, and you prayed desperately that the dim lighting of the hall would be enough for the fresh mark you’d left on Chan’s neck to escape Minho’s scrutiny. He narrowed his eyes, and your heartbeat picked up. So far, not off to a great start.

Still, you swallowed—your misgivings, and your pride—and flashed him a quick smile.

“Hi, Minho.”

No response, just a nod. Something told you that you were lucky to get even that out of him. He turned his head, planning to continue his debate with Jisung without addressing you any further, but the other boy had already been sucked into a high-energy conversation with Chan and Changbin about ways they could improve future performances.

“Can we talk?” you tried to keep your volume low, just enough for him to hear without catching the attention of the others.

He studied you with an impressive lack of interest, and for a moment, you thought he might really go the rest of the night without uttering a word around you.

“Why?”

“I just want to clear the air. I feel like we kinda had a misunderstanding the other day.”

“Maybe on your end,” he said curtly. “I understand what’s going on just fine.”

You took a breath, forcing yourself to remain open-minded. “Maybe,” you agreed. “So, could you tell me what I’m missing about all this?”

Wordlessly, he brought his cup to his lips, fixing you with unblinking eyes the entire time he drank, like you might lash out and attack him if he let his guard down for even a second. You managed to hold his gaze, but that same chill from before began to creep up your spine. It was so intense—and for what? Anyone who saw the way he was looking at you might think the two of you were involved in some kind of centuries-long blood feud between your families.

Even after he’d swallowed, he said nothing, and you felt your patience slip just a bit.

“If I’ve done something wrong, or if I’ve upset you somehow, please let me know,” you added.

“Upset me?” he hummed. “Yeah, actually, you did.”

You tensed.

“When you said I wasn’t funny, it really hurt my feelings,” he announced. “Apologize with flowers and tears, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

It almost sounded like his usual manner of joking around, but your glimmer of hope was put out by that same, cold expression. You tried not to lose sight of your goal, clinging to what Changbin had told you in the cafe. He’s easy to misunderstand.

“Minho,” you began lightly. “I’m being serious here.”

His eyes glinted under the flashing lights. “So am I.”

You allowed your face to drop at last, realizing right then and there that he had no intention of even telling you what you’d done wrong—let alone giving you the chance to make amends with him.

“What, you don’t like that idea?” he feigned hurt. “Maybe you’d rather get on your hands and knees and ask for forgiveness?”

You bristled. “That’s enough.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. A look almost akin to gratification crossed his features, like a crack in your demeanor was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

“Hm. Guess you’re not really sorry, after all.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, okay? Even as a joke.”

“I’d be glad not to talk to you at all,” he shot back. “But it seems you have nothing better to do than pick fights with me.”

Unbelievable. You had to stop yourself from clenching your fists, solely because of the fact your hand was still loosely clasped with Chan’s.

“Pick fights?” you repeated. “I’m trying to fix things between us!”

“There’s nothing between us to fix.”

The way he said it was strange, pointed. You were positive there was a deeper meaning to it, almost like he was implying that there was something for you to fix, just not with him. It planted an unpleasant thought in your mind—or, rather, watered the seed of an idea that was already rooted deep within it.

You’d managed to keep your voice hushed thus far to avoid causing a scene, but the building tension finally seemed to reach a tipping point, enough to catch Chan’s attention. He put his chatter with Jisung and Changbin on hold to give you a curious glance, and, as irritated as you were with Minho’s provocation, you smiled back at him.

“You alright?” he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, eyes darting momentarily in Minho’s direction. He’d turned away from you as soon as the opportunity had presented itself, going right back to talking with Jisung as if your conversation had never even happened. At least one part of what he’d said had been straightforward—he clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

“You’re friends with some pretty weird people, y’know that?”

Chan grinned. “Birds of a feather.”

Your spirits lifted a bit, taking comfort in the fact that he at least seemed oblivious to the altercation that had just taken place. Still, it was a shallow relief. You knew now, with complete certainty, that Minho wasn’t going to make things easy for you.

Of course he wouldn’t. Nothing was ever that easy.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

One month into the fall semester of your senior year, the academic distractions that you’d been longing for all summer were now upon you. Perhaps, even, a bit more intensely than you’d have liked.

Your classes were manageable enough—a significant improvement over the hellscape that was Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics—but the amount of time and effort your research lab demanded more than made up for what might’ve been an easy final term. When you weren’t attending your lectures or completing assignments, you were practically living in the astrophysics lab; analyzing spectroscopic measurements, reconstructing images from interferometric data, observing optical maps of the interstellar medium, and, on top of all that, sitting through countless meetings with your team.

It was as fulfilling as it was exhausting, and though you were more than happy to finally get some hands-on experience in your field of study, you couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful about this new routine as well. Your Experimental Physics II section with Changbin only took place once a week as opposed to the biweekly Thermodynamics lectures, and that, coupled with the lack of study sessions and your limited free time meant you were seeing him much less often than before. It was even worse in the cases of Chan and Iseul, both of which you rarely saw on campus to begin with. Even with Iseul more or less still treating your apartment as her second home, and Chan being his usual, relentlessly considerate self—never going too long without checking in on you—they were both busy with their respective capstone projects as well, leaving your interactions fewer and further between in comparison to the spring.

You knew it wasn’t rational, but it almost frightened you how such minor shifts in your daily life could feel so jarring, especially when graduation, the greatest shift of all, was looming on the horizon. The sands of time were trickling along without a care in the world, changing things little by little until they were unrecognizable. Some for the better, some for worse.

You’d thought you were handling the gaps in your time spent with Chan fairly well; that was, until it dawned on you halfway through September just how often your mind would drift to him while working on your research. Every new set of spectral line data or roAp star photometric variations had you visualizing what his reactions might be—his gleaming eyes that captivated you more than any of the stars you were observing, his voice growing shaky with excitement as he tried to discuss your observations without pausing every few seconds just to gush about how cool it all was.

You weren’t pleased with the number of instances your lab partners had caught you grinning to yourself in the middle of running tests and collecting data, giddy over the mere thought of his presence. As it turned out, Changbin hadn’t been too far off when he’d labeled you as lovesick.

Summoned by your thoughts, your phone vibrated against your desk to signal a text from none other than Changbin. You placed down your pencil in defeat, accepting the fact that you weren’t going to be getting any work done at this rate—daydreaming about how often you were daydreaming about Chan should’ve been indication enough.

bin 😑 (2:03 p.m.) number 5???

You blinked at your screen, dumbfounded.

bin 😑 (2:04 p.m.) number 5 pls pretty pls

you (2:04 p.m.) i sent you number 5 yesterday?

bin 😑 (2:06 p.m.) oh ;;; number 6 pls~~~

you (2:06 p.m.) i think i deserve an honorable mention on ur diploma

bin 😑 (2:07 p.m.) get me thru this hmwk and i’ll make it happen one for you and one for chan ><

The thought of it nearly made you laugh out loud: Changbin, trying to charm his way through the dean’s office to make a proposal as ridiculous as that. You didn’t doubt that he might try it, or that he might actually succeed in doing so.

Shuffling through your papers, you snapped a picture of your assignment, barely managing to fit the entirety of the required work in one shot.

bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.) thank uuu oh speaking of chan lol u know he’s sick?

you (2:10 p.m.) what???

bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.) i knew it he didn’t tell you -_-

You felt a pang of worry, countless questions filling your head at once. It’d been a day or two since you’d contacted Chan, even longer since you’d seen him in person—definitely over a week by now. The last time you’d talked hadn’t been over a phone call like usual; you’d texted him just to see how he was doing, and after a short chat he’d promised to meet up with you sometime the next week. It had been unusual, but not unusual enough for you to overthink it, especially considering how swamped the both of you were.

you (2:12 p.m.) how long has he been sick for?

bin 😑 (2:13 p.m.) couple days? actually more like a week now

Worry twisted into a sense of dread. Why hadn’t he told you?

You didn’t have to question it for long. You knew why—anyone who knew Chan well enough could piece it together with ease.

bin 😑 (2:14 p.m.) he hasn’t gone to class for a few days ㅜ you should visit him if you can

you (2:14 p.m.) yeah, i definitely will thanks for letting me know binnie

If your homework had been an afterthought before, it was long forgotten now. You didn’t bother to clean up your workspace before rising from your chair, leaving the scattered notes and eraser shavings for you to deal with later.

You weren’t sure what you were experiencing as you made your way over to your kitchen, digging around for ginger and garlic and praying that you’d have enough. It was an overreaction, probably, but you berated yourself regardless; for not noticing that something was wrong, for not pressing harder when asking how he’d been, for not questioning the longer periods of time you’d gone without talking. You’d wanted to give him his space, but for it to go as far as him thinking he shouldn’t tell you that he was sick—sick to the point where he couldn’t attend class, stirred something awful in you.

The pot nearly slipped from your hands in all your haste to prepare your materials, and you took a breath, forcing yourself to relax before you set fire to your apartment. Still, the concern, the guilt, didn’t die down. You were so accustomed to being in-tune with every aspect of your relationships, be it friends, family, or romantic partners, making note of every little detail, every subtle shift; sometimes before they themselves could even realize it. But for what was neither the first nor the last time, you had to remind yourself that this was Chan you were dealing with. Of course he wouldn’t tell you—he wouldn’t tell you anything that he believed might cause you even the slightest inconvenience. He would do whatever it took, go to any lengths imaginable, just to avoid committing the unforgivable sin of letting you care about him. It was the complete opposite of everything you'd come to understand about the world, the people around you, and it put you in a position that you weren’t sure you wanted to be in.

You weren’t going to stand idly by, watching him board his openings shut before anyone could catch a glimpse of what was inside, watching him burden himself with the fear of burdening others. Whatever had happened in the past for him to reach that point, you wanted to suck it out like poison until there wasn’t a single drop left in his system. You were going to be there for him, whether he liked it or not.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

His face was the last thing you’d expected to see when the door to unit 8-325 swung open.

Realistically, it shouldn’t have been. He did live there, after all. Like the annoying troll under the bridge that wouldn’t let you pass unless you answered his riddles three. It took everything in you not to make a face as you were met with Minho standing in the doorframe. He, of course, didn’t extend that same courtesy to you, eyes narrowing into an unmistakable grimace when he laid them on you.

“What do you want?”

“Hi to you, too,” you muttered.

His expression didn’t change, and, much to your disdain, you once again found yourself mesmerized by that gaze of his. You hated how effective it was; unreadable, yet communicating a thousand things all at once. Even if he really was as harmless as Changbin claimed, even if his cold glares and cutting comments were the extent of what he could do to you, your skin crawled all the same.

When you saw that he wasn’t planning on dignifying you with a response, you inched forward, expecting to be let inside. That would simply be too easy, though. Minho shifted so that his body blocked your path, pulling the door closer to him for good measure.

“Chan’s sick,” he deadpanned.

You paused, blown away for a moment by his audacity. “I know he’s sick,” you gritted your teeth. “I’m here to check on him.”

You might’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lips start to twitch, but you tore your eyes away too quickly to be certain. The last thing this man needed was whatever kind of ego boost he’d get from you paying a little too much attention to his features.

“Not much you can do,” he dismissed, voice light and airy as ever. “Unless you think gracing him with your presence is gonna make him all better.”

It was your turn to shoot Minho a glare, foot darting out just in time to prevent him from shutting the door in your face. Wordlessly, you lifted the container of galbitang into his view.

He raised an eyebrow, the closest thing to a genuine reaction you could get from him. “Changed your major to the medical route?”

“I don’t see you doing anything to help him,” you snapped.

Your patience was already minimal when it came to this guy, but ever since you’d confronted him at the event in August, it seemed like he’d made it his personal mission to run it as thin as possible every time you interacted with him. It was kind of impressive, really, the way he knew exactly how to push every last one of your buttons with ease.

Fresh out of half-assed excuses, Minho shrugged, as if he’d never even cared in the first place. He let go of the door handle, and you took that as a sign to push past him and slip inside.

You removed your shoes as quickly as you could, not wanting to spend another second around him if you could help it. Knowing that Changbin wasn’t home, you stalked past the kitchen and through the living room, the soothing scent of freshly-brewed yuja tea flooding your nostrils as you did. It almost made you feel bad about what you’d said to Minho, but you knew better than to apologize for it now—if you’d come to learn anything, it was that your peace offerings would be met with even more hostility than your provocation. Instead, you padded down the hallway, heading straight for Chan’s room.

Careful not to lose your grip on the container in your hands, you managed to give his door a light knock. A few seconds passed before you heard a faint “come in”, muffled by the sound of what was sure to be a pile of blankets. You braced yourself, recovering from your Minho-induced rise in blood pressure, then slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind you.

Chan blinked his eyes open just in time to see you approaching his bed. They were foggy, even more exhausted than usual, and they widened slightly when he registered who was standing before him.

“Hi, Channie,” you whispered. “Were you sleeping?”

“N-no, I—” his voice came strained and hoarse, so different from his pleasant, melodic lilt that you had trouble believing it was really him speaking for a second. “I was already awake.”

You rolled his desk chair over to the side of the bed, placing your container of galbitang on his nightstand next to the half-finished cup of tea and army of empty water bottles. He watched, stunned, as you sat down next to him, still trying to process what was going on.

“Um…how did you—?”

“Seo Changbin,” you hummed.

A weak smile formed on his face. “Bin…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” he croaked, not sounding alright at all. “Guess when you told me to look sick I took it a little too seriously, yeah?”

You let out a light giggle, and he tried to join you, only to spiral right into a violent coughing fit instead. It made your heart twist with sympathy, and you reached out to brush back his messy curls, resting your palm on his forehead. His skin was burning, and not in its normal way—if you could even call the amount of body heat he carried with him normal. It was heavy and sticky and pulsing, like you could physically feel the ache plaguing his head.

“Ah, wait,” he warned. “You shouldn’t touch me, you’ll catch it.”

I don’t care. You almost wanted to say it without restraint, but you settled for something more tactful, something less pointlessly dramatic. “You wouldn’t get me sick, would you?”

He flashed you another feeble smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry you have to see me like this,” he rasped, shrinking into the covers so that his face was only half visible.

“Please don’t apologize, Channie,” you ran your fingers gently through his hair. “I just wish you’d told me. How long have you been sick?”

The feeling seemed to relax him, weary eyes drooping just a bit as your nails grazed his scalp. “It’s only been like this for a few days,” he hesitated. “But I first started feeling it last week. Minho thinks it’s the flu.”

You stopped combing through his hair, letting your hand simply rest atop his head. He seemed to sense your disapproval, eyes peeking up at you from beneath the comforter to meet your frowning face.

“It’s not that bad, though,” he tried to assure you. “Just a cough and some headaches.”

“Bin said you haven’t been able to go to class.”

Chan sucked in through his teeth; caught. You sent out a silent apology to Changbin, realizing a split second too late that you’d probably set him up for a scolding as soon as Chan could speak without sounding like he had gravel in his throat.

“I just didn’t want you to worry,” he explained sheepishly. “Especially when you’ve been so busy.”

“I’m always thinking of you, anyway,” you countered, only half-joking. “So, please don’t hide stuff like this from me, okay? That’ll only make me worry more.”

For a moment, he stayed silent, and you got the feeling that your words hadn’t quite gotten through to him. Regardless, he eventually gave you a tiny nod.

“Promise?” you pressed.

“Promise.”

He didn’t hold out his pinky this time to seal the deal, but you chose not to dwell on it considering the fact that his hands were buried under layers upon layers of blankets. Instead, you gave his head one last pat and reached for the thermos on the nightstand.

“Can you eat?”

His face lit up at the sight of the galbitang. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I haven’t eaten yet today, actually.”

You frowned, biting back an exasperated comment. Even if his horribly skewed priorities frustrated you more than anything else—touching a part of you buried so deep within that you yourself couldn’t fully grasp it—you’d visited Chan with the intent of helping him, not lecturing him. There was no changing the outcome now, anyway. All you could do was try and make things a little easier for him, to balance out his determination to create new obstacles for himself as quickly as you could break them down.

“It should still be warm, but I can go heat it up if you’d like?” you were reluctant to ask, not keen on the possibility of seeing Minho again.

“No, no, s’alright,” he shuffled around in the sheets, trying to sit himself upright against the pillows. “I’ll eat it like this.”

As soon as his protective pile of covers slipped down his torso, he was shuddering. Even with the hoodie he was wearing, chills passed through his entire body, so strong that you could visibly see how his shoulders shook.

“Oh my God, Channie,” your voice softened to a tone that he’d only ever heard you use with him, one that soothed his pounding head. “You’re really sick, aren’t you?”

He attempted to say something in response—to deny it despite every cell in his body screaming otherwise—but between his sniffles and chattering teeth, it was hard to make out. You reached out with your free hand and pulled the covers back up his chest, draping them over his shoulders so that just his head and neck were exposed. Chan blinked at you, the confusion on his face morphing into subtle panic when he understood what you were planning.

“Ah…you don’t,” he coughed. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.” You unscrewed the lid and unlatched the spoon from its side. “I want to, actually. If it’s okay with you.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you—the flush that crept up on his cheeks, even more visible than usual with how little color there was to his sickly complexion.

“Okay,” he averted his eyes. “Yeah, thank you.”

You scooped up a portion of the soup, making sure to gather a good mix of ingredients for him, then brought it up to his lips. He blew out puffs of air a few times before taking the spoon into his mouth, still refusing to meet your gaze.

Despite his awkwardness, a cute hum followed. “This is really good.”

“That’s how I know you’re sick.”

He giggled gently, careful not to set off another coughing fit. “No, I mean it,” he licked his lips. “I can taste the flavor, even though my nose is all stuffy.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smiled, dipping the spoon back into the container. “I kinda made it in a rush, so I hoped it’d at least be edible.”

Chan finally looked up, fixing you with a guilt-ridden gaze. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled, just as you brought another portion up to his lips.

“The only person you should be apologizing to is yourself,” you said firmly.

A comfortable silence filled the room, with nothing but the sound of Chan’s slurping and wheezy breaths breaking it. Though the bashfulness was still there—it always was—he gradually came to relax the more you fed him, slumping his shoulders and letting out those content, satisfied noises that you’d come to love so much after each hot spoonful. The sight of him, disheveled as he was, made your heart feel strangely full, the ripples of worry fading out until it was calm and clear. He was being cared for, looked after; even if for just a moment. You decided right then and there that it was the only thing you’d ever ask of him—to dare to let you treat him with an ounce of the kindness he showed everyone but himself.

The steam, garlic, and ginger seemed to do their job in clearing up his sinuses a bit, as his sniffling grew more and more frequent until it was obvious he was having a hard time containing it. He had to refrain from ducking his head, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over him as you plucked a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his nose clean. Still, he thanked you quietly, sinking further into the pillows.

“Is there anything else I can do?” you sealed the now-empty container shut. “I can pick up any missing work for you tomorrow, if that helps.”

Chan’s eyes were half-lidded now, his weariness finally starting to catch up to him. “Nah, don’t trouble yourself. Most of my stuff is on my laptop, anyway.”

For the first time, you noticed the device amidst the blankets and sheets, teetering on the edge of his mattress in a way that made your adrenaline spike considering it was the precious amalgamation of all his blood, sweat, and tears since he’d entered university.

“Have you been working, even now?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “But I think staring at a screen just made my head feel worse. Gonna try again later.”

Before you could say anything else, he changed the subject, like he knew you’d advise against it the instant the words left his mouth.

“But how’s your work? Is the lab going okay?”

Despite yourself, a smile tugged at your lips. You might not have let him get away with it if he hadn’t asked about the exact thing you’d been dying to share with him since the last time you’d met up. Maybe that was what he needed, anyway—something to cheer him up and take his mind off the perpetual ache consuming his body.

“I’m observing a pair of binary stars right now.”

He perked up against the pillows, lifting his head so quickly that it actually earned a light hiss of pain. Still, his face broke out into a smile, exactly the way you’d dreamed of when you’d first analyzed the spectral lines.

“What kind?”

“Spectroscopic.”

His dimples appeared for the first time that day. “The closest pair!” he chirped. “That’s amazing, I wish I could see it.”

“I can show you their Doppler shifts as the next best thing,” you offered. “They’re so close even the telescopes can’t separate them. Isn’t that romantic?”

“Super romantic,” he beamed, eyes twinkling through the glaze of illness. That familiar warmth spread through your skin—just by looking at him, you could tell he was thinking the same thing as you. “Orbiting so close and so fast…you think they’ll change each other’s evolution?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

Like in the case of most binary pairs, one star burned brighter than the other—just the slightest bit. Even if the difference in them was miniscule, you had no doubt in your mind which of the two was Chan.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Space talk could only mitigate the effects of the flu for so long. Chan’s half-lidded eyes eventually drooped all the way shut, his raspy but enthusiastic chatter dying down into barely-responsive mumbles, then, finally, soft, steady snores. It took everything in you not to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, already accumulating beads of sweat as his fever began to break. Even after all your recklessness in getting so close to him while he was sick, you figured that would be pushing your luck a bit too far. Instead, you ensured he had enough water for when he’d inevitably wake up parched, adjusted his pillows so that his head was properly elevated, and tidied up the mess on his nightstand as best you could.

Carefully, you tiptoed out of his room, taking one last look at his sleeping face before shutting the door.

As you entered the living room from the hall, you found Minho seated on the couch; presumably hard at work, judging by the way he was hunched over his laptop, typing up a storm with computer glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He didn’t even spare you a glance when you passed him to toss the empty bottles in the recycling bin. You’d long learned to keep quiet around him to avoid setting off yet another tirade of petty insults and icy scowls, and you would’ve gladly gone without a word if the memory of your earlier accusation wasn’t nagging away at you. That, and, maybe the affection that had bubbled up inside you upon seeing Chan had let down your guard a bit.

Against your better judgment, you mustered up the will to say it. “Thanks for looking after him.”

Minho’s eyes stayed glued to his screen. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Obviously,” you replied evenly. “I just mean I’m glad he has you.”

You were prepared to leave it at that, both to let him resume his work, and avoid the claws that were sure to come out if you kept pressing the matter. To your surprise, however, he piped up again just as you began making your way over to the door.

“If you’re expecting me to say the same about you, don’t hold your breath.”

You told yourself to ignore it, but with just a few words, he’d effectively frosted over all the warmth that Chan had kindled in your chest. Something snapped in you, making you spin on your heels before you could stop yourself.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Minho’s eyes flickered up at last, widening for only a split second before they narrowed again.

“That’s no way to talk to someone in their home,” he clicked his tongue. “If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d kick you out.”

You held your ground, refusing to feel embarrassed about your outburst no matter how much he provoked you.

“Answer me.”

Minho rose from the couch with a sigh, making it no secret what an inconvenience he found you to be, what an utter waste of his time it was to even address you.

“What makes you think I have a problem?”

You let out a bitter laugh. The absolute gall of this man.

“Don’t play dumb with me, okay? Changbin told me this is just what you’re like, but I haven't seen you treat anyone else the way you treat me.”

Minho was closer now, still a few feet away, but near enough to put you on high alert. He looked so unrecognizable these days, you’d forgotten what it’d ever felt like to be comfortable around him, to be in the same room without that unease spreading through your skin.

“You think you’re special?” he sneered. “Do your ego a favor and listen to Changbin.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he carried on, still managing to sound so carefree despite the venom in his words.

“Unless, of course, you’re the only one allowed to give orders here.”

You froze.

“What?”

“Hit a nerve?”

“What are you talking about?” You had to contain yourself, solely for the meager hope that maybe, just maybe, you might get a clear answer from him for once.

“I’ve seen your type before, too many times,” he spat. “Chan just can’t seem to break that ugly habit—falling for people who only know how to take advantage of him.”

You bristled, so enraged that you couldn’t even think to answer. All that filled your head was red, hot anger, defiance, and, buried beneath all that, fear.

Anger that he had the audacity to speak to you that way. That he’d passed such a cruel and absurd judgment without so much as bothering to get to know you first. Defiance that he thought he had you all figured out when he didn’t even know the half of it—of what Chan meant to you, of what you’d been through, of the people who had chewed you up and spit you out just like he was implying you liked to do.

Fear that he was right. Fear that someone else was capable of having those thoughts about you, that they weren’t just your own baseless inhibitions. The lingering effects of what he had planted in your mind, never quite uprooted.

“My type,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Is just as capable of being taken advantage of.”

Minho crossed his arms, stare unbreaking as if inviting you to continue—to prove yourself to him. The thought alone made your stomach churn.

“You’re not as smart as you think,” you hissed. “You don’t know the first thing about me, and whatever happens between Chan and I is none of your business.”

He sniffed, unimpressed. “When you hurt him, it will be.”

He said it with so much certainty, so much confidence, you nearly believed it yourself. You clenched your fists, mustering all your strength to control the irrational amounts of rage bubbling up inside you. You thought of Chan, asleep in the other room amidst his nest of sweaty blankets and tissues, fighting off the flu on top of everything else he had resting on his shoulders. You thought of his exhausted face, paler than usual, and his cracked voice, still trying to reassure you even when he was in such a miserable state.

You took a deep breath, and you softened.

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

Minho said nothing. Maybe he thought it was too easy to counter, maybe he thought it wasn’t even worth acknowledging. Either way, you were done trying to make sense of him—done trying to defend yourself in front of someone who had long decided you were guilty.

So, he hated you. You could probably live with that. You didn’t exactly have a glowing opinion of him either.

You turned around, making a beeline for the door and slipping your shoes back on as calmly as you could. But, of course, it wasn’t over quite yet. Ending things on your terms, where you got the last say, wasn’t an option when it came to Minho.

“Running away from the fight you started again?” he called lazily. “This is getting boring.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Iseul’s sigh rang out through your apartment, so loud and so exaggerated this time that you couldn’t in good conscience brush it off. Half-amused by her transparency, you paused the show on your television, turning to give her a questioning look.

“Something wrong?”

“Look at that!” She gestured aggressively at the screen, where the male lead, soaked and forlorn with a bouquet of flowers in hand, was waiting in the pouring rain outside of his love interest’s home. “Where do I find someone like that, huh?”

You giggled, only to realize with a start that she was being dead serious. She pouted at you, and you cleared your throat, rushing to correct yourself.

“Are you still having problems wi—?”

“Yes,” she interjected, as if exasperated that it’d taken you this long to notice. “We had an argument earlier today. He called me needy, can you fucking believe that?”

You let out a hum of disapproval; you’d never really gotten a good vibe from this guy from the start, especially as Iseul’s boyfriend. He was far too emotionally unavailable for someone as expressive and sensitive as her.

“Why would he say that?”

“He’s just a dick. All I did was ask him to help me practice my marketing presentation—y’know, since you didn’t have the time to,” she added. You guessed it was probably just her frustration speaking, but something about the way she said it seemed off, like you were partially at fault for not being there to help her in the first place. “Then, after like two tries, he gets all annoyed with me saying I’m being way too nitpicky and wasting his time.”

You knew better than anyone how high-strung Iseul could be when it came to academics; it was the trait in her that had initially sparked your friendship, after all. She could be demanding, sure, but it was only because she cared so much about performing well. Being there for her any chance you got wasn’t even a matter of debate for you—it was the bare minimum, whether for a friend, or a significant other.

“Anyway, I’m still waiting on him to apologize,” she huffed. “I’m not the crazy one here, right? Like, do you think he has a point?”

“You’re not crazy.” You pressed your lips together, trying to approach the matter with caution. “I think you just have high expectations for people.”

“But that’s not a bad thing!”

“Of course not,” you agreed. “As long as you treat them with the same consideration.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “I could literally be the best girlfriend ever if he’d just let me. He literally never appreciates the things I do for him.”

“Maybe you just have different ways of showing your care for each other?” you suggested. “You can try bringing it up next time you talk.”

Iseul groaned, dragging her hands down her face, as if the thought of urging him to have a mature, emotionally open conversation with her caused physical pain. “I guess. If he ever even bothers to text me again.”

“How long has it been?”

She looked away, uncharacteristically meek. “A few hours.”

“He usually takes that long anyway, right?” you reasoned. “He’ll definitely come around, try not to stress too much about it.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “I’m sick of thinking about it. How are things with Chan?”

It was the only detail of your life she ever really asked you about lately. You didn’t mind most of the time—you were more than happy to talk about him over other, significantly less pleasant things, but in this case, you felt a twinge of discomfort. You hated that the first thing that came to mind wasn’t Chan’s crinkled eye smile, but rather, Minho’s relentless death glare. The thought was unnerving enough for you to consider bringing it up with Iseul, just as a way to get an outside opinion from someone who wasn’t Changbin or Chan. Unlike them, Iseul didn’t know Minho at all, and you liked to think she was blunt enough to tell you objectively if you were in the wrong.

“Pretty good,” you hesitated. “Well, there is something—”

“I’m sure they’re more than just good,” she interrupted again. “All you ever do is hang out with him these days.”

You flashed her a grin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone to entertain myself with once you’ve settled down?”

You were met with another huff. She crossed her arms, eyebrows furrowing in a way that immediately told you she wasn’t in the mood to joke.

“Doesn’t mean you have to ditch me now that you’ve got yourself a boytoy.”

“C’mon, Iseul,” you tried to keep your tone light. “You practically live here.”

She picked at her fingernails in silence, and you felt yourself start to panic a bit, suddenly taking the implication that you’d been neglecting your friendship much more seriously. You hadn’t noticed a difference, save for how much busier your schedules were this semester—but that was inevitable given how hectic senior year was for everyone. As much as Chan consumed your thoughts (something Iseul was better off not knowing) you barely saw him more often than her; in fact, given everything he was constantly juggling at once, you probably saw him less.

“What are you always so busy with, then?” she questioned at last, the slightest bit accusatory.

“The same as you. Classes and my senior research.”

You couldn’t decipher why she looked so unconvinced by the explanation, like the idea of you being preoccupied with your own personal matters was somehow incomprehensible to her. She shifted around in her spot, clearly set on the idea that there had to be more to it than that.

“Fine,” she turned her head back to the television, still frozen on that same, pitiful frame from the drama. “I still need someone to help me practice though, and I’m definitely not asking him again. So, it’s gotta be you.”

“Sure,” you replied. “I can definitely find time.”

You wanted to believe that she was just in a foul mood because of the fight with her boyfriend—and maybe that really was the whole of it. Surely, she wouldn’t dismiss the past two years you’d spent helping and supporting her the very instant you had to focus on yourself for a bit.

Even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help but wonder for the first time if the scale between you and her was more out of balance than you thought.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

October had arrived at last, bringing with it a pleasant chill in the air, early tints of orange on the trees, and a fresh wave of midterm exams. Most importantly, it brought Chan’s birthday. He’d recovered from the flu a mere few days before the third of the month, and you’d never been more grateful for the sight of his radiant smile and rosy cheeks, full of so much life that he energized not just himself, but everyone around him as well.

His birthday fell on a Tuesday, not exactly the most ideal time for a celebration between Experimental Physics II and The Life and Death of Stars, but you’d been determined to make it work. You would’ve made anything work if it meant getting to spend even an hour with him on the day where he was, for once, the center of the universe. A small get-together had been planned later in the evening at his apartment—actually a small get-together this time, as promised so seriously by Changbin—but you’d come up with an excuse to skip out on it. No matter how hard you wished it didn’t bother you, the idea of being under the same roof as Minho again had been all the reason you needed to keep away. You had no doubt in your mind that he’d do everything in his power to make you feel unwelcome, and you didn’t trust yourself to remain collected around the guy after he’d proven time and time again how talented he was when it came to riling you up.

The last thing you’d wanted was to cause a scene on Chan’s birthday; it wasn’t even worth risking. If you put a damper on his happiness simply because you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting with his best friend like two feral street cats each time you crossed paths, you’d never forgive yourself. Instead, you’d met up with him for lunch and pastries earlier in the day, with the perfect excuse to cover all the expenses for it—much to your delight, and much to his dismay. Even if you were a bit wistful about missing out on the real celebration later, Chan’s beaming face when he’d opened your gift, the best external hard drive you could afford, had more than made up for it.

It’d been a week since then, another week where you and Chan barely found the chance to lift your heads from the sea of work to check in on each other. You knew that he was especially overwhelmed. His sickness couldn’t have come at a worse time, leaving him playing catch up with all his missed assignments and lectures on top of the stress of midterms.

Your thumbs hovered over your phone screen, tapping against each other as you debated whether or not to send him a message. As if on cue, it lit up with a notification that made your breath catch.

channie 🐺 (1:03 a.m.) you awake?

you (1:03 a.m.) yeah hi channie

There was a delay before he texted again, three little dots appearing and disappearing below your chat bubble more than once, like he was repeatedly typing and deleting what he wanted to say.

channie 🐺 (1:07 a.m.) can i call you?

The question felt strange, unlike him. You’d grown accustomed to expecting his calls the very instant he’d find out you were available—more often than not, without any warning at all.

you (1:07 a.m.) do you even have to ask?

channie 🐺 (1:09 a.m.) i should probably start haha sorry

You frowned. Something was definitely off.

you (1:09 a.m.) nooo that’s not what i meant ur calls are the best surprise

Another minute passed without a response, and you began to worry that you’d actually upset him. Then, your screen lit up again, this time to signal his incoming call.

He didn’t greet you immediately after you picked up like he typically did. You registered the subtle sound of whirring on the other end of the line, like a breeze was billowing through his phone speaker.

“Chan?”

“Hi,” he sounded out of breath. “What’s up?”

“I was about to check on you, actually,” you confessed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Your heart fluttered, but it didn’t fully ebb the worry piling up inside you. “I missed you,” you murmured. “Starting to think dropping out isn’t such a bad idea.”

He chuckled—light, barely there. It was gone as soon as it came, as if not to overstay its welcome. The distant sound of a car engine met your ears, distracting you from what you’d planned to say next.

“Are you on your balcony?”

“Taking a walk,” he replied.

You blinked. “At this hour?”

“Yeah, couldn’t really sleep.”

For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. You’d never heard him sound like this before. Blunt, sullen, defeated. A part of you, the hypervigilant part, wondered if he simply wasn’t in the mood to talk—but then, why would he have even asked to call you?

“Oh no,” you made a soft noise of sympathy. There was a pause as you mulled over how to approach it; whether to nag him not to get his adrenaline rushing so late, to offer words of comfort for whatever seemed to be bothering him, or to pretend like everything was okay, just to take his mind off of it. You didn’t want to keep pressing after you’d already asked once, but something was very clearly wrong; so wrong that Chan himself was making little effort to hide it.

“Do you want to look at the moon?”

A deep inhale. “Yeah.”

Wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder, you pulled up the blinds of your bedroom window and pushed it open, allowing the cool, October air to waft through your senses and drift over your skin. The moon was in its Waning Crescent phase, a thin, delicate slice of light illuminating the clear sky. You tried to picture Chan on the other end, the wonder in his tired eyes, the slope of his nose tilted upwards as he admired it like it was the first time it’d ever graced the night.

“Are you looking?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’ll be a new moon soon.”

“Yeah,” he said again.

A silence stretched across the call, not quite uncomfortable, but not quite serene, either. Even from afar, you could feel the thoughts buzzing in his head like they were your own, disturbing any peace the view might usually wash over him. His breathing, at least, steadied, and you guessed he’d stopped walking to get a proper look at the sky.

The two of you stayed that way for some time, long enough for you to start filling the gaps with his absentminded humming and sweet vocalizations. There was none of that today; just silence.

Then, you heard it. Faint, muffled, like he’d turned away from his phone to avoid letting you catch it: a sniffle.

“Channie,” you whispered. “Are you really okay?”

“Just my leftover cold, don’t worry.”

You kept quiet. You both knew he’d fully recovered well over a week ago.

“Sorry,” he said weakly. “Can I come over?”

“Right now?” You glanced at the time. It was already nearing 2:00 a.m., you didn’t want him to make such a long walk this late, especially not in his current condition. “Why don’t I come meet you?”

“No, no, ‘s alright.”

“Well, of course you can come. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended. It left you feeling heavy with unease, an emotion you’d never once associated with Chan. As foreign as it was, it made you all the more determined to be there for him, to take on some of the weight he carried everywhere he went before his knees completely buckled underneath him. In your eyes, he was just like the moon he loved so much—always shining down on you with the brightest side of him, and never allowing you to see the other. You wanted to break the tidal lock and see the dark side of the moon. To uncover all the hidden craters and basins and accept them as a part of him.

Not even ten minutes had passed before you heard a knock at your door, far too soon for him to have arrived by foot. It made you realize, with another tug at your heart, that he must’ve already been on his way to your apartment when he’d first called.

When you swung open the door, there was a short lapse before his smile came, strained, but relieved. His hair was tousled from the wind, eyes outlined with dark circles, and black jacket unzipped. It hung loosely off his shoulder, and when you pulled him into a hug, you could feel the chill from the outside air lingering on his skin. Even so, his persistent warmth still seeped through; it always did.

Neither of you said anything as you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other room. You settled down next to him on the edge of your bed, facing the window where the moon was still watching over you. Chan kept his eyes firmly locked on it, but his fingers brushed tentatively against yours, tracing the lines of your fingerprints and palms as if to commit them to memory.

“Sorry for bothering you so late.”

“You could never bother me,” you said simply.

It was so immediate, so natural, it had him taken aback for a moment. He sucked in through his teeth, well aware of your gaze studying his side profile with growing concern.

“At the showcase,” he mumbled. “Did you really mean what you said?”

The question could’ve been in reference to anything, but somehow, that was all he needed to ask for you to know exactly what he was talking about.

“Of course.”

Memories of him up on that stage flooded your mind. His charisma, his passion, his belief in Changbin and Jisung and, for a fleeting moment, himself. Just thinking about it was enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin.

“When I saw you performing, all I could think about was how much you belonged up there.”

Chan’s breath hitched. At last, he turned his head to face you, that same look from the night of the party—the one that troubled you for reasons you couldn’t explain—crossing his features again. Hopeful eyes searched for any hint of insincerity, any shadow of a doubt, only to find nothing but raw affection.

He leaned in suddenly, brushing his nose against yours in a wordless plea, and you closed the space between you. His lips were the slightest bit chapped from the crisp autumn air, but their plushness was never lost, consuming your senses with that soft, irresistible quality you could never get enough of. He melded seamlessly into you, filling every gap and crevice, pulling you further in like waves lapping at a shore.

Chan turned slightly on the bed, angling his body to bring himself closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours. For such a simple touch, it made him sigh sweetly into you, lips parting to add a new degree of heat to it all. His fingers flexed in your hand, and you used the other to cup his face, holding him steady as he moved his mouth with increasing urgency. Cute, tiny sounds built up in his throat each time your tongue slid against his, growing louder and louder until he was all but whimpering into your mouth.

His desire, normally thinly-veiled by a layer of timidity, was on full display tonight—not quite pushy, rather, begging with every pucker of his lips and graze of his teeth for you to take things a step further, to let him fall completely into you. It was a lack of restraint you often had to build into, to guide him there yourself. You kept telling yourself to get a grip, to break the kiss and check on the boy who, just minutes ago, appeared to be on the verge of falling apart; but it was fruitless to even think about ridding yourself of a sensation so addictive. His free hand reached for your waist, hesitant as ever to grab on as tight as he needed to. Instead, he took your shirt between his fingers, playing with the fabric in a way that, strangely enough, was even more exhilarating.

The sounds spilling out of Chan became muddled together, and it took you a few seconds to realize that he was trying to say something to you.

“Please,” he whined. “Please, please.”

You ran your thumb along his cheek, unlocking your lips from his at last. “What is it, baby?”

“Need you,” his breath was shaky, lungs aching from the intensity of the kiss. “Can I make you feel good? Please, let me this time.”

You paused, pulling away to get a proper look at him. “Are you sure?” you frowned. “You don’t look well, Channie. Why don’t we talk?”

“N-no, ‘m okay. Just really need you right now.”

His gaze flickered down to the spot between your thighs, and he swallowed. It affected you more than you wanted to admit—the pure want in his eyes for something so selfless.

“I’ll be good,” he promised. “However you want it, I’ll do it. Please.”

You scanned his face a few moments longer, trying to put aside the arousal spreading through you at an alarming rate, just long enough to get a read on him. Your concerns were still very much there, but the look on his face told you that he wanted—needed this even more than you did.

Gently, you squeezed his hand one last time before unlacing your fingers. “Alright...if that’s what you want.”

Chan watched, mesmerized, as you repositioned yourself on the bed, resting your back against your pillows and slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to tug them off.

“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “I’ll do well. Promise.”

It nearly made you coo out loud. All this just to please you, just to satisfy desires that, unbeknownst to him, were already fulfilled just by being with him. Still, you knew Chan well enough to understand that it wouldn’t sit right in his mind until he gave you everything he had to offer. He’d give you his all if only you would let him.

Even as you slipped off your underwear, he stayed put, unmoving until you gestured for him to come over. He licked his lips, eyes shining in the low light when you spread your legs at last. Your heartbeat picked up as he settled between them, suddenly so close that you could feel each shaky breath of his tickling your sensitive skin. Tentatively, he placed his hands on your thighs, glancing up at you to ensure that it was really okay. You gave him an encouraging nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak when the only thing you could focus on was how dangerously close his mouth—his perfect mouth—was to your most intimate spot.

With your permission granted, he began pressing kisses to your inner thigh. They started off with that same shyness you knew, careful and reserved, but quickly became less and less controlled the more his mouth roamed. His lips were smoother now, wet and glossy, and they sent tiny jolts through your senses each time they came in contact with your skin. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought he was purposely trying to tease you, giving hints of what he could make you feel without diving in fully just yet. But the way he kneaded your flesh with the pads of his fingers, a low, desperate noise bubbling up inside him, said otherwise. He was appreciating every bit of you, basking in the moment, as if he may never get the chance to have his head between your legs again.

His sloppy kisses drew closer and closer to your heat, and when his lips came to hover over it at last, you had to stop yourself from pushing against his face right then and there. Delicately, his tongue slid out to glide from your entrance right up to your clit, ending it with a gentle flick that sent a shiver down your spine. He repeated the action almost immediately, a sweet hum escaping him as your arousal flooded his tastebuds.

Your hand fell down to his head, gripping his curls in a way that made his own pleasure spike, if the sudden whine he let out was any indication. He continued licking away, each intoxicating lap of his tongue growing more confident and making you ask yourself just why on earth you’d ever deprived yourself of such a feeling. It satiated a need that you hadn’t even known was there to begin with, twisted the muscles in your core with both tension and relief. If it’d been a while since he’d used his mouth like this, it certainly didn’t show.

“Am I…” he slurred. “Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you assured him. “My sweet boy, using that pretty mouth for me. Making me feel so good.”

Your praises earned a moan from him, so loud you’d think he was the one experiencing the hot, delicious rhythm of his tongue. The sound vibrated against your folds, making your toes curl and your nails dig further into his scalp.

“You really like this, don’t you?” you giggled breathlessly.

“Mm. Just wanna—mmph—please you,” he managed between licks. “Wanna be a good boy for you.”

Before you could respond, heart-shaped lips wrapped unexpectedly around your clit, engulfing it with his plush, wet warmth and sending shockwaves all throughout your body. Despite your best efforts, you gasped, barely able to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs around his head. He sucked eagerly, adding just the right amount of pressure that, if kept up, was sure to draw you to a climax faster than you’d ever experienced before.

“Just like that.�� You let your eyes flutter shut. “Good boy. You were made for this.”

Chan dragged his upper lip along the sensitive bud, the tip of his nose brushing against it in a way that threatened to snap the tightening coil in your abdomen all at once.

“Made f-for you,” he stuttered out. “Please, tell me I’m good for you. Tell me ‘m okay.”

You weren’t sure if it was his own arousal becoming too much for him to bear, but his voice had become near-frantic, as did the strokes of his tongue. His movements grew sloppier and sloppier, drool mixing with your essence and nose dragging along your folds almost obsessively.

You ran your fingers through his curls, hoping to keep him grounded. “More than okay. You’re perfect for me, baby boy.”

A broken whimper met your ears, driving you closer to the edge. “Yeah? ‘M doing well? Please, tell me I’m good,” he begged. “P-please, wanna be good enough.”

Amidst all his pleading and babbling, the words caught you off guard, pulling you out of your blissful haze all at once. Something wet dripped against your skin, warmer and thinner than any of the other fluids pooling at your core, and it made your eyes snap open in alarm.

“Channie?”

“I’ll do it right.” He didn’t look up, still working his mouth despite the choked noises building up in his throat. His hands pawed at your thighs, gripping and squeezing with so much urgency that you’d think he was terrified you might disappear. Another hot droplet ran down your skin, and as you blinked to refocus your vision, you finally noticed it—the trembling of his shoulders. “Just please, l-let me show you ‘m worth something.”

“Chan.” Panic gripped you, and you used your clutch on his hair to catch his attention. “Chan, stop for me, baby.”

Every one of your nerve-endings screamed out in protest as he obediently unlatched himself from you, releasing the mind-numbing suction of his lips. But your worry quickly overtook any of the remaining lust in your body. Chan sucked in a sharp breath, refusing to lift his head, and you slid your hand down to his dripping chin, tilting it up into view.

He was crying; tears trickling down his cheeks with fresh ones brimming in his clouded eyes. He squeezed them shut, unable to meet your stare, and your heart may as well have snapped in two.

“Oh, Channie,” you whispered. “Why are you crying?”

“I…” his voice failed him, anything he’d been planning to say fading out into a sob. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

A lump rose in your throat, guilt flooding your chest. You’d known he was off from the beginning—you should’ve done something, you shouldn't have let things get to this point. This was Chan, after all. Of course he’d pretend that he was fine for you, of course he’d try to make himself useful to you instead. You should’ve known better.

Still, you kept calm, even if it was surface-level, you steadied your volume and relaxed your expression; something to ground him amidst it all. “Don’t be sorry. Come see.”

He blinked the tears out of his eyes, only for them to immediately glaze over again. The skin around them had turned red and puffy, and coupled with the exhaustion written all over his face, he looked positively broken. “Sorry, ‘m okay, really,” he tried to insist. “I just…”

One look at your outstretched arms was all it took for him to lose his last shred of composure. He surged forward with a hiccup, falling into you and burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms securely around him, the tear in your heart growing as you felt him shake against you with each gasp and sob that racked his body. His flow of tears didn’t stop, in fact, it only seemed to come stronger in your hold, warm droplets streaming freely and seeping through the fabric of your shirt. You stayed quiet for a bit, just allowing him to release as you ran your hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him.

“Why are you crying, baby?” you murmured again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I c-can’t fail,” he managed at last, barely coherent through the slur of his speech. “N-not again. I can’t.”

“Fail? Why would you fail?”

He didn’t answer right away—or, rather, he couldn’t, another feeble gasp effectively cutting off any response he’d mustered up. Despite the slew of questions his words unleashed in you, you remained patient, cradling his head with your free hand while the other continued to rub his back. For all its strength and broadness, it was more fragile than ever shuddering under your palm.

“It’s my last chance. C-can’t mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess anything up,” you said firmly. Even without any idea as to what he was talking about, you knew that much was true. “What makes you think that?”

Another minute or so passed of him trying to gain control over his hiccups, just long enough to get a proper sentence out. “My mentor,” he took a deep breath. “My mentor rejected my project. S-said it needs a complete rework.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Why?”

You winced at how loud it’d come out, but the utter disbelief in your tone at least seemed to encourage Chan to keep going. He sniffled, still refusing to lift his head from the comfort of your shoulder.

“Just wasn’t good enough.”

“Don’t say that.” The possibility wasn’t even worth considering to you. There had to be more to it; you refused to accept otherwise, not when you’d witnessed firsthand how earnestly Chan poured his heart and soul into every piece of music he’d ever created. “I know that can’t be it.”

A thought flickered to life in your head, one so obvious that you scolded yourself for not realizing it sooner. “Did you have enough time to work on it?”

“I…” he began weakly. “I t-tried.”

“You were sick for over two weeks, Channie. Does your mentor know that?”

His breath caught in his throat, telling you all that you needed to know. “Don’t...wanna make excuses.”

“But it’s not an excuse, is it? It’s just the truth,” you reasoned. “You couldn’t even get out of bed. There’s no way you could do your best under those conditions.”

“I...I sh-should’ve—”

“You should’ve been getting enough rest. You should’ve told him what was going on.”

Your words seemed to reach him at last, cutting carefully through the thick fog of self-deprecation and sabotage consuming his mind just enough for him to really mull it over. He inhaled again, slower and deeper this time, but still not free of that painful tremor.

“M-maybe,” he rasped. “Maybe I did need more time.”

“There we go.” You combed through his hair. “Your best is more than good enough, Channie. Your mentor wouldn’t have done this study with you otherwise.”

You wanted, more than anything, to see his face as you spoke, to look directly into his red, watery eyes and let him know exactly how much you meant it. But you knew how vulnerable he must be feeling for you to even see him like this, so you let him be, hoping the message would get through to him nonetheless. “I’m sure if you explain it to him, he’ll understand. He knows what you’re capable of, and so do I. So please, don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

Chan’s shoulders relaxed just barely in your arms. He nuzzled further into you, and little by little, the trembling under your palms came to a stop. Given how hard he’d been crying—even now, with new ripples of tears still trickling onto your clothes—you were certain there was something else brewing deep within him. This was only the tip of the iceberg, the breaking point. Even so, you didn’t press the matter just yet, instead choosing to nurture the hint of calm that had begun to creep up on him.

“Do you really think I can do this?”

Your hand slid down to the nape of his neck, playing gently with the wisps of curls that swooped out. “I know you can,” you murmured. “And even if I didn’t, you’d do it anyway. You were made for this.”

A sweet sound, something between a sigh and whine, spilled out of him. Under any other circumstances, you knew he wouldn’t accept it without a protest or two, but in that moment, he absorbed it wholly—clung to it, even. His head finally lifted from the mess of tears and sweat that had formed in the crook of your neck, only to fall right into your chest instead, not quite ready to face you.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and he scooted impossibly closer to you, his thigh brushing between your legs in a way that you willed yourself to ignore. “Why don’t we go wash up?”

He tightened his grip on you, another soft noise gracing your ears. “Can we stay like this, please? Just a little longer.”

You softened. “Of course. Anything you want.”

He slumped fully against you as you rested your hand on the small of his back, the last of his reservations effectively washing away. You played loosely with the hem of his hoodie, listening to the sound of his breathing and taking comfort in the fact that it was finally beginning to even out.

The two of you stayed peacefully like that for several minutes, that was, until something warm and damp spread through your shirt, immediately catching your attention. Not tears this time, rather, the feeling of Chan’s mouth pressing against your chest.

Your heart skipped a beat. His lips puckered faintly, forming a moist ring over the material, right around your nipple. Just as you were about to pass it off as an accident, it happened again.

“Is there something you need, Channie?”

“You,” it came muffled. He parted his lips, wider this time, nibbling delicately on the fabric. “Can I? Please?”

It didn’t take much thought for you to understand what he was implying. An uncharacteristically self-indulgent request, one that filled you with affection and pooled heat in your stomach all over again.

“You’re so cute.” You couldn’t help yourself, his transparency made you melt like nothing else—you only wished that it would extend to other aspects of his life, ones that you were equally as hungry for.

Careful not to disturb him too much, you slipped your hands under your shirt and wiggled out of it. Chan lifted his head, albeit briefly, to make it easier for you to unclasp your bra. The instant your skin was bared to him, he nestled right back into your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sending a spark of electricity through your body. He sucked gently at the bud, taking in your scent through his nose and exhaling contently. His hand, covered by the sleeve of his jacket, reached up for your other breast, pawing at it with timid fingertips before squeezing the soft flesh at last.

“My sweet boy,” you cooed. “My baby boy who works so hard he forgets to care for himself.”

He whimpered, puckering and unpuckering his plump lips in a way that would’ve made you rub your thighs together had he not been settled between them. You cupped the back of his head, and his eyes fluttered shut, a look of pure bliss crossing his face. The red, hot flush from all his crying was replaced with something softer now, a rosy shade dusting his puffed cheeks.

“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you continued. “I hope you’ll see it one day. I’m so proud of you.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, an especially high-pitched whine escaping him. For a moment, you worried that he may begin to cry again, then, you felt it—his bulge brushing against your leg. His hips rocked forward so subtly, you weren’t even sure if he himself was aware of it, but once you’d noticed, it became hard to ignore the spike in your adrenaline.

Driven on by the feeling of his tongue swirling hungrily around your nipple, you let your hand drift down to the waistband of his pants. His mouth fell open as you traced over his bulge, all but jolting against you. “A-ah, yes. Touch me,” he pleaded.

“My baby’s so needy today,” you teased, dipping your fingers into his underwear and wrapping them around his half-hard length. He tightened his hold on your chest, his low, drawn-out moan sending a delicious vibration through your skin. “But good boys like you get whatever they want.”

Chan unlatched his lips from your nipple, only for any attempt at a reply to be cut off as you began pumping your hand along his dick. The cool night air drifting through your window was no match for the heat building between your bodies; that same, inexplicable heat that always drew you back to him. His fingers flexed around the softness of your breast, and you realized with a soft giggle that he was subconsciously mirroring the pace of your strokes.

You stopped to roll your palm over the head of his cock, smearing the droplets of precum around to add a layer of slickness to your movements. The cry it earned was nothing short of heavenly, ringing out shamelessly through your bedroom and making your core clench. Chan’s hip shot up into your grasp, so overtaken by the pleasure that he forgot to keep sucking for a moment, instead letting his mouth hang as drool began to dribble from its corner.

“Does that feel good?” you asked sweetly.

“Mmph, yes,” he slurred. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You deserve it,” you guided his head closer to your chest, allowing him to take your nipple between his swollen lips again. “You deserve to feel so good, angel.”

A wet, sticky sound, mixing with Chan’s pleas, began building as you glided your hand up and down his cock more steadily. Despite everything, it flustered him the moment he registered it, legs squeezing together with a broken whine.

“You hear that? Even the sounds your body makes are cute,” you hummed. His eyes, already shut tight, scrunched up even further to form an adorable look of embarrassment. “My pretty boy. You don’t even know how perfect you are for me.”

“Please,” he mewled, almost unintelligible through the skin and drool occupying his mouth. “Please, ‘m getting close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?”

He could only whimper in response, cock twitching in your hand as you added a delicious pressure to your strokes. He kneaded your chest with more vigor, leaning in to suck on your other nipple and sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. His mouth was like wet, warm velvet encasing the sensitive bud; you found it hard to believe that those same lips had been between your legs earlier, drawing you to a climax with a purpose that you could only describe as raw devotion.

“Gonna—!” Chan’s hips bucked up, his whole body tensing. “A-ah, please, can I?”

You swiped your thumb playfully over his slit, and he practically keened. It was cruel, probably, but his unrelenting need to please you, even amidst all the desperation clouding his judgment, only made you want to toy with him more. Still, you knew that given the state he was in, teasing was out of the question. He needed comfort, pleasure, relief—and all of it rested in the palm of your hands.

“Let me see you cum like a good boy.” You gave one final jerk of your wrist, sending him over the edge at last. His thighs clenched, voice catching in his throat for a moment before breaking out into a gasp. Even so, he kept sucking to the best of his ability, babbles of your name dying down into soft mewls as the last few spurts of his seed coated your palm. You held still to avoid overstimulating him, curling his hair absentmindedly around your index finger until his cock finished throbbing in your grasp. Chan blinked his eyes open, still hazy and puffy, just in time to see you remove your hand from his pants and spread your fingers, connected by thick strings of his release.

“Look at all that,” you marveled. “You really needed this, huh?”

A low whine built in his throat. He pressed his cheek into your chest, shying away from the messy view.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Mhm,” he managed a chuckle—quiet, still missing the jovial, melodic quality of his laughter, but even a trace of it was all it took to lift your spirits. Other than that, he said nothing, and you guessed he wasn’t entirely grounded just yet. You reached for a tissue from your nightstand, making a light grunt of effort with Chan’s full weight resting against you, and wiped down your hand to the best of your ability. As you leaned back against the pillows, your stare flickered down to the boy in your arms. He was an absolute wreck now; a sweaty, flushed, beautiful wreck of dried tears and drool gazing back up at you like he would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.

“You did so well for me, Channie,” you praised. “Such a good boy.”

Pressing a quick kiss to his ruffled curls, you shifted beneath him, wordlessly urging him to let you wiggle off the bed. His reaction was immediate, sweater paws gripping your waist with an unexpected intensity.

“W-wait,” it was tinged with panic. “Don’t go, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you assured him, tapping the tip of his nose. “But we need to get you cleaned up, don’t we?”

He blinked a few times before the words seemed to get through to him. Then, with a slow nod, he hoisted himself off of you. It came as a surprise—though it shouldn’t have—how your body instantly longed for his warmth again. You took both of his hands into yours, almost tempted to push his sleeves back to properly lace your fingers together. But he seemed content with his palms covered like that, safe and secure in a way you didn’t dare to disrupt. With care, you tugged him up by his arms, letting him lean against you as you guided him to the bathroom. He didn’t let go of either of your hands the entire time, and, as awkward as the intimate gesture made it to walk, your heart fluttered.

You set the water to a warm temperature, watching Chan sway back and forth on his feet as you filled up the tub. His eyes were a bit more alert now, breaking the glaze that had encased them all throughout the night, like the reality of what had taken place was beginning to set in his mind.

“Wanna get undressed for me, Channie?”

There was a delay before he responded, long enough for you to give his hand a squeeze.

“Oh…yeah.”

Reluctantly, he released his hold on you, clumsy fingers fiddling with his hoodie in an attempt to shrug it off. With a fond smile, you reached out to help slide it down his shoulder. His arms fell limply to his sides, and you took it as a sign to keep going, slipping your fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugging it off, his pants and underwear following soon after. Even now, he ducked his head, unable to look you in the eye as you shut off the stream of water and ushered him into the tub.

As he sank into the warm pool, a sigh escaped him, so soft and relieved that you could practically feel the bliss rippling through his body. You sat yourself down on the edge of the tub, taking a moment to soak your washcloth before drizzling it with body wash—vanilla and cherry blossom, a blend of scents you’d quickly come to learn was Chan’s favorite. He loosened up the instant you came in contact with his skin, leaning into your touch. Gently, you began to scrub, lathering his broad back and shoulders with the sweet, flowery smell and admiring every curve and muscle in the process.

The rhythmic drag of the loofah and the gentle lap of the water had him reduced to putty in your hands in no time. He didn’t bother to resist the way his eyes drooped shut, each tranquil rock earning a small hum from him.

“Does that feel nice?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Channie. Your muscles are so tense,” you added. “I hope this helps a bit.”

He hummed again, tilting his head to the side as you moved up to the junction of his shoulder and neck, the comforting scent of your soap fully flooding his nostrils. Knowing how sensitive his neck was, you were careful not to press too hard around the area. It was horribly timed, but your skin tingled as you passed over the spot where you’d previously marked him—long faded by now, but you remembered the visual clear as day.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “About all of this.”

“Don’t apologize,” you ran the cloth along the slope of his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t want you to hide stuff like this from me—isn’t that what we promised?”

He hesitated. “I…yeah.”

“Even big, strong shoulders like yours can’t carry everything by themselves,” you scolded lightly. It earned a puff of laughter, and even with his eyes still closed tight, he lowered his head sheepishly.

The question that had been lingering in the back of your mind all night—the question that had been eating away at you since you’d first met him, really, made its presence known once again. The missing piece of the puzzle, the hidden crater yet to be illuminated. You knew by now that Chan wouldn’t reveal it without a strong enough nudge, no matter how badly he wanted to. Even if it was threatening to burst out of his chest, just aching for a pin to come along, he’d use all his strength to keep in until you punctured it yourself.

“Chan,” you pressed your lips together. “When you said ‘not again’…can I ask what you meant by that?”

He stiffened under your palms, features darkening to form that same expression as all those months ago, when you’d first asked why he’d changed majors. You repressed the urge to take it back this time—you needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.

“Spring semester of my senior year,” he mumbled. “I failed most of my classes.”

Something awful gripped you, so intensely that you stopped scrubbing for a moment. Failed. It felt so wrong coming out of his mouth, a word you couldn’t comprehend ever applying to him.

“I…I decided to change from astrophysics and try music. It was something I always kinda wanted to do, anyway.” He sounded so nervous—terrified, even—shrinking into himself as he spoke as if each sentence made him more and more vulnerable to some hidden assailant waiting to attack. You continued your ministrations with the hopes of easing his fears a bit, wringing out the washcloth before adding more soap and running it along his chest. Even through the rough material, you could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“My parents, they…I've never really disappointed them like that before,” his voice cracked on the word “disappointed”, like it physically pained him to say. “I still don’t think they’ve really accepted it. They still look at me like…like I'm…”

He trailed off. He didn’t have to say it for your gut to wrench.

“Maybe once I graduate, they’ll think I'm worth something again.”

“Please, don’t talk like that,” you couldn’t hide your own distress. “You’re worth something as you are. It’s your future, Chan, not theirs.”

“But what if I can’t do it?” he whispered. “What if I just fail again? I’m so…so scared that I’m making the wrong decision.”

“It must be scary,” you agreed, gliding the washcloth along the tense curves of his arms. “Really hard, too. But that’s because you’re carving out your own path. No one else has walked it before you to clear out the way.”

He went quiet, and you took it as a sign to continue, a chance to keep swinging at the seemingly indestructible wall of self-doubt he’d so carefully crafted for years.

“You’re not alone, either,” you encouraged. “Think of Bin and Jisung and all that faith you have in them. Think of how much faith they must have in you to follow you down that path without question.”

If only he knew—if only he saw the admiration for him written all over their faces, oozing from every word they spoke. If only he knew the admiration you’d felt for him as early as when Changbin had first told you about him choosing music composition. Daring to take a route that, in many ways, was more challenging than even the most horrific of astrophysics courses. Not only that, but daring to flourish, leaving room for flowers to grow along the way wherever he roamed.

When Chan replied, you could've sworn you heard the faintest glimmer of hope in it. “I guess I never really thought of it that way.”

“Well, start thinking of it that way,” you chided softly. “I know you can do it. Just because others want you to do something, doesn’t mean it’s right. What’s right is what makes you happy.”

He loosened up further, welcoming your cleansing touch and your words of compassion more and more openly. You washed him in silence for another few minutes, debating in your head whether or not to keep pursuing the matter, to peel back another layer of him and get to his core.

“Were you…unhappy doing astrophysics?”

“Not exactly.” You got the feeling he could tell what you were really attempting to ask him. “I meant it when I said I liked it. That’s…not why I failed.”

You made a noise of understanding that masked the countless other things you wanted to say. He jolted just barely as you ventured down to clean his stomach, approaching his most sensitive area with a touch as gentle as it was deliberate. Care with a purpose.

“The…the person I was with, at the time,” he paused—whether to gather his thoughts, or to gauge your reaction, you weren’t entirely sure. Your eyes widened just a bit, but you kept your hand stubbornly occupied, scrubbing over his sore thighs. Like clockwork, they nearly closed in on each other. “She had a lot going on. Her mother was really sick; in and out of the hospital a lot.”

Even as dread stirred within you, like you knew exactly where this story was going, you left him space to continue.

“She just needed some help with everything she was dealing with in her life, y’know? I wanted to help.”

“I know you did,” you murmured. It was a given, one of the few certainties in life. Chan would always help, for no reason other than the fact that he could.

“I t-tried to be there for her. Took her wherever she needed to go, helped with her classes, visited her mother, looked after her little sister when she couldn’t,” he swallowed. “Then, around May, things got really bad. Her mom needed treatment for a few weeks, so I spent most of my time at the hospital or taking care of her sister.”

Something about the way he phrased it made you feel compelled to ask, “Where was she during that time?”

“Dunno,” he chuckled, humorless. “But I can probably guess.”

You stole a glance at his face. His eyes were open now, locked on the bubbly water and refusing to meet yours, like he might break all over again if he did. “In the end, I guess I didn't prepare well enough for my finals. Didn’t pass most of them. So I figured, if I was gonna be taking more semesters, anyway…i-if it wasn’t going to be perfect, I might as well start from scratch, y’know? Do it right this time.”

“Oh, Channie,” you rested your hand on his head. “That’s too much. That’s way too much.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t h—”

“No, no,” you didn’t even want to give him the chance to second-guess himself. “Please, don’t hold back. I’m listening.”

He was sugarcoating it, you knew he was. Even now, two years into the aftermath and still suffering the effects of it, he was trying to dismiss it all as something casual.

“What about her? What happened?”

Chan shrugged, reaching up for his ear. You didn’t push him as he fiddled with the silver hoop, instead taking the opportunity to grab your bottle of shampoo and squeeze some of the substance into your palm while he found the will to answer.

“When she found out I wasn’t graduating, she ended it,” he said at last. “Think it was already over, anyway. She was with someone else a few weeks later.”

“Oh my God.”

Through the haze that had been filling his head the entire night, your emotions still reached him with ease. “I brought it on myself, though,” he added quickly, as if the excuse—had it been even remotely correct—would’ve made it any better. “It was all just my own stupid choices. I can’t really say it’s her fault.”

Yes, you can. It took every ounce of self-control to stop yourself from pressing your nails into his head, just to avoid hurting him. You weren’t sure what drove the urge most: sympathy, protectiveness, fury. You couldn’t even begin to fathom it—you didn’t want to fathom it. To be presented with a heart as pure and honest as Chan’s, a love so selfless and sincere, only to trample all over it like it was worthless.

Despite the whirlwind that had spiraled to life inside you, you settled for something softer, a tenderness that, clearly, had been missing from his life thus far. You rubbed the shampoo delicately into his hair, swirling the dark curls around in a way that sent pleasurable ripples down his spine.

“It’s not your fault,” your tone left no room for debate. “Someone took advantage of your kindness. But showing that kindness? How could that possibly be your fault, Channie?”

He sucked in a sharp breath. You wondered if it was the first time he’d been told anything like that—whether by himself, or anyone else.

“I never do things for people to gain anything from it,” Chan began, and you knew, more than anything, that he meant it. “But…”

He hesitated, giving a quick shake of his head, as if to compose himself.

“But it hurts to be used.”

“Yeah. I understand.” You understood more than he could know, more than you could say in that moment. Tears had begun to well up in his eyes again, and for his own sake, you scooped up a portion of water in your hands and began to cleanse his head of the shampoo, letting the streams mask any fresh droplets that may trickle out.

“She never really did anything like this,” he said softly. “Most of the time, she’d just leave.”

Everything clicked into place. All the missing pieces of the puzzle, all at once, with each realization serving as another pang in your chest.

“Chan. I need you to know, right now, that this is what you deserve. All of this, and more.”

Faint sniffles and dripping water echoed throughout the bathroom. In this case, you welcomed it over his usual protests.

“I see everything you do, for me, and everyone else. You never give up on people, even with more than enough reason to,” you ran your hand through his hair, watching the wet ringlets slip through your fingers. “I admire that so much about you, but you still need to think of yourself once in a while. It’s not worth it—it’s never worth it to give your all to someone who will only see the empty husk left behind.”

Vaguely, you saw it, the slow nod of his head. It filled you with hope, the possibility that he might start to see himself the way you saw him, even if just a glimpse. Just a glimpse of him was bright enough to pierce through any darkness.

“One day, all that kindness you put out into the world is gonna find you again. I promise.”

He turned his head to look up at you for the first time, eyes gleaming with something other than tears.

“I think it already has.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Neither of you said much as you continued bathing him, a quiet spell—comfortable, once more—passing between you and allowing everything that had been said to settle in your minds. You took your time conditioning Chan’s hair, giving each lush, beautiful curl the proper attention it deserved until you were fully satisfied. By the time you had finished rinsing him off, your legs were aching from sitting in the same, uncomfortable position for so long, and you were certain his were too. You helped him rise from the tub to the best of your ability, taking a moment to admire the streams of water traveling down his body before you passed him a towel.

As you re-entered your bedroom together, you immediately went to shut your window, not keen on creating even the slightest opportunity for Chan to catch another sickness. He was rocking on his heels again, looking seconds away from collapsing into your bed; he likely already would have if it weren’t for the fact that he was clad with nothing but a damp towel.

You dug around for a bit before locating a fresh pair of sweatpants he’d previously left at your place. When you presented them to him, he grinned for the first time that night.

“Been looking for these,” he commented. “They’re my favorite.”

“Well, they’re mine, now,” you teased. “But I can let you borrow them, I guess.”

To your surprise, he brought the garment up to his nose, and it took you a moment to register that he was breathing in the scent of your laundry detergent. It was almost ridiculous, how such a small action made you feel like your heart was going to erupt out of your chest.

The two of you settled into bed once he’d changed, and the exhaustion that had been gradually seeping down into Chan’s bones throughout the entire course of the night—even before that, probably—took over at last. You pulled the covers over your bodies, and he nestled into you before your head had even hit the pillow, his misgivings from your first night together nowhere to be found.

You prayed that he’d be able to sleep soundly tonight. His warmth washed over you, lulling you into dreams of your own. As you opened your mouth to wish him goodnight before your consciousness escaped you, you heard it. A mumble, just audible enough for you not to pass off as your own imagination.

“Think I love you.”

He was so drowsy that he may not have even noticed if you chose not to respond—you weren’t even sure if he noticed that he’d said it in the first place.

You rested your hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“I love you, too.”

Something twisted deep within you as you returned his words. Not because you didn’t mean them, but because you did.

#bang chan x reader #skz fanfic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #skz smut #sub!skz #sub!bang chan #sub!chan #dom!reader #skz x reader #skz angst #skz imagines #bang chan imagines

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thechekhov · 5 months

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Hello! Just wanted to say I love all your content but I wanted to ask if you had any advice/tips for running curse of strahd? I'm working on getting ready to run it with some friends/my partner and while I've run a fair amount of homebrew stuff this is my real first attempt at a legit module so I was curious if you could share anything since I believe you also are running/had run that module as well?

Thanks for asking! This is a very fun question!

I have indeed run Curse of Strahd. It was my first foray into long-term DMing and my team and I finished that campaign a little under a year ago. It was awesome, and I'm always excited to talk about it. Curse of Strahd had be a great game if everyone is on the same page!

First of all, I'm gonna say

Having Experience with Homebrew will be a huge boon

When I ran CoS, I followed the actual module about... 60% of the time. It was good... as a baseline/blueprint. But the reality is that I changed up a lot of the details. Either because I didn't like the vibes of the story, or because the plot points were antithetical to my team's goals. I changed up an entire floor of Ravenloft. I threw away a whole storyline for a major NPC because I felt it was too boring.

I think most people who run Curse of Strahd do this, actually. I've heard countless tales of how others Homebrewed their own meat onto the skeleton, and still came out of the campaign with an awesome, Strahd flavored experience. So don't worry about that part.

Here's my advice:

1. Everyone should vibe with what Strahd IS as a game.

Strahd can be a lot of things - you can Homebrew your own motivations into him, or make him a her, or change the history of his castle if need be. But if there's one thing Curse of Strahd is... it is DARK.

The Venn Diagram of Parties Who Understand That Suffering Can Be Fun To Roleplay and Parties Who Had A Good Time Doing CoS is probably a circle. You cannot do this adventure with a group of people who just want to hit monsters a whole bunch. It's an inherently 'oh my god this SUCKS' adventure. That's the main theme. Your players need to be able to enjoy that sort of game, otherwise they will just be miserable.

One of my players, upon arriving in Barovia, immediately said 'I hate it here' and then continued to say it for the rest of the campaign. That is kind of the catchphrase of CoS. Your players need to be comfortable with that sort of bleak horror and overall misery. It makes the end and the potential to finally end Strahd worth it.

That being said, Strahd can also just be... a lot. It has death and torture and psychological horror in there. KIDS DIE. Please discuss this stuff with your table, and remove elements if they guarantee a bad experience for everyone!

(Yes, you can trim down some of the viscera if you need to, that's fine. But keep in mind it will still be tragic. It SHOULD still be tragic. I set some boundaries for myself, but I also killed a whole town in an avalanche. It happened to be the only town my players had grown to like. It was a dick move. It was exactly what you would expect to happen.)

2. Read ahead - A LOT AHEAD.

For a self-contained world, Barovia isn't actually that big. It's a very small map, compared to some that span continents. That means you have the ability to flesh it out, as it were.

To add to that... some areas are... severely underdeveloped plot-wise. Sometimes there are places your players will go where it FEELS like it should link up to another point in the game but it just... doesn't. There is room to expand there. Use your Homebrew skills to connect the dots that the module doesn't!

I greatly recommend taking the time to either read through the whole adventure OR listen through some video-essays. There IS some cool stuff that comes in in the later game that you can grab and put down breadcrumbs for from day one. Or add to your own story twists.

My recommended resource for this is the Curse of Strahd DM's Guide video series.

...and to that end...

3. Start living in Ravenloft Castle WAY before your players get there.

Listen..........listen. look.

Look at this, and suffer as all GMs have suffered.

Castle Ravenloft is unarguably the biggest, stupidest, most architecturally ludicrous hurdle when it comes to GMing CoS. And I am here to tell you - IT IS DOABLE.

You can understand the castle, you can grow comfortable with it. But you need to start early. Hell, I think I began to set up Ravenloft maps before my players even knew it existed. Then I stopped, because I was scared.. but then I went back, and I.... roleplayed SOLO on my off-days! I set up little scenes between Strahd and others and imagined him setting traps, and doing other things. It helped me understand which staircase led to where, and what floors were accessible from which angles.

A part of me actually thinks that there should be a mini GMs-only class where a more experienced Strahd GM takes some time with other GMs to guide them through a map of the castle. A CoS Learning Oneshot, if you will.

There's also a LOT of talented mapmakers that create beautiful, digital CoS maps! Here's one:

Even if you are playing analogue, at a physical table, I greatly encourage you to check it out for reference. The official CoS maps are bleak and a little bit more... rustic? Than they are gothic.

Anyway, in order to avoid talking your ear off, I will end it here.

My last bit of advice is... to have fun!

Yes I know I just said that Strahd is an inherently bad-vibes game. But it's actually GOOD to let your players goof off now and then. Don't be afraid to let them do shenanigans. It builds character, and allows them to regain the energy they need to role-play properly heavy elements later.

My group did a whole bunch of funny stuff. They felt so bad about losing Ireena that when they saw Ismark, instead of explaining themselves to him they cast Darkness and tried to scramble away. There was a running joke that the cleric was too good to know about sex, so they used the euphemism 'play cards' around her, much to everyone's amusement. They got kicked by a walking house once and never forgot nor forgave. And finally, they defeated some Flame Skulls by putting them into a bag of holding.

Anyway, the point is... have fun! I wish you and your party the best of luck. :)

#chekhov answers #curse of strahd #cos #ttrpg #dnd #5e #d&d #cos 5e

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justauthoring · 27 days

Text

the harsh truth [2].

because the truth was, it just wasn't possible. even if you and reno desperately wished it was.

a/n: this didn't start as a continuation of my other reno fic but it ended up being one :) you also don't need to read part one, but it's recommended!

pairing: reno sinclair x f!reader

tw: potential rebirth spoilers? just be cautious if you haven't played

part one.

This was so wrong.

Unbelievably, without a doubt, to the point your friends would hate you if they knew, wrong.

And yet, you couldn’t help yourself.

He was everything you stood against. The perfect embodiment of everything you fought against. He worked for Shinra… and not just a businessman or a foot soldier, but a Turk. He’d spent the entirety of his career trying to convince your friend Aerith to help Shinra, and while he’d never physically harmed her nor did she seem particularly afraid of him, it still stood to point that his and the rest of the Turks intentions weren’t all that innocent.

Cloud had fought against them many times. Yes, more times than not, Cloud had come out on the winning side, it didn’t erase the fact that they’d been at each other’s throats more times than you could count.

He was the enemy.

He was Shinra.

Sure, you didn’t inherently think he was a bad person. In fact, you thought he had the capabilities to do great things, that deep in his heart he was a good person but he still did bad things.

He’d actively participated in the Sector Seven plate falling. There was no doubt, no way to change the story in small tweaks that made him seem just a little better. You’d been there. Sector Seven was your home just as much as it was Tifa’s or Barrets, Jessie, Wedge and Biggs had been your friends just as much as anyone else's… You’d seen him that day, in that helicopter, had nearly been barrelled by his own bullets.

Of course, he hadn’t known you were there. Not at first.

But still, it didn’t change anything.

It terrifies you though. Scares you to the core. Watching as Cloud pulls back his sword and aims it directly for Reno’s head. He’s going to kill him, you realize, going to hit him without a second thought. And sure, the others looked just as horrified; particularly Tifa, because killing was never something any of you had ever done.

Hurt, maim, beat… sure. All of those. But never killing.

It’s different, though, for you. Means something else.

The striking, paralyzing realization that despite all of it, the thought of Reno dying makes you feel sick. It hurts in a way you can’t directly explain and there’s a desperation that’s bleeding through you to save him without a second thought. It’s why your feet move before you can stop them, it’s why it feels like you blink and then suddenly you’re in front of Reno, holding onto him tightly, on your knees, turning up to look at Cloud’s terrifying gaze and pleading with him.

“Please,” you cry, hoping there’s a shred of some care in Cloud for you that he’ll hear you and that he’ll stop. “Please don’t hurt him!”

And the words are intimate. More intimate than you mean. You’re not begging Cloud to stop for him, nor are you doing it because the act in itself is wrong… you’re begging him because you don’t want it to be Reno on the other end. You don’t want Reno to die. You’re doing it because you can’t stomach the thought of losing him.

There’s a moment of hesitation, Cloud stops and his fingers twitch on the handle of his buster sword but then, he’s leaning forward, shifting with the intention of following through and your heart sinks. But you refuse to move. You’d rather be hit then Reno.

Reno shifts when he realizes Cloud isn’t going to stop, and there’s a paralyzing fear as your name leaves his lips in a shrieking cry and he moves with the intention to shove you aside but then Tifa’s arms are wrapping around Cloud and she’s pulling back, screaming his name.

You watch for a moment more, heart pounding against your chest, eyes drifting across everyone else who stares in a mix of shock and confusion, particularly aimed at you. But then your eyes fall on Aerith, and oddly enough she’s smiling; there’s a hint of worry behind her gaze as she shuffles to Cloud but she winks at you and despite it all, you flush.

Pushing yourself to your knees, you turn, knowing that Tifa has Cloud and let your eyes drift across Reno. You avoid his gaze even as he stares deeply back at your own, letting your eyes drift across his entire body. He’s got a few bruises here and there, and there’s a cut across his arm that’s bleeding but–but he’s okay.

When you finally meet his eyes, Reno is staring back at you, lips parted in disbelief.

There’s a moment where the two of you just stare at each other, no words spoken, and then Reno leans towards you; “Y-Y/N–”

“We need to get going.”

Cloud’s sharp tone pulls you from Reno, eyes turning only to find him staring back at you, gaze harsh. Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, the realization of what you’d just done catching up to you; they probably all hated you. Tifa, Aerith, Barett… all of them were probably looking at you with a similar look because of what you’d done and it was you standing with Reno, on the opposite side of them.

With the man who had indirectly or directly hurt them in some way.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Cloud continues, and you flinch at his tone.

Eyes falling to your feet, you can’t bear to look at the others. “I…–”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Aerith cuts in and your eyes snap to her at her soft, warm tone. “We understand.”

She’s smiling, just like before. A gentle, comforting smile as she steps forward and nods at you.

Your lips part, shock flooding you.

When your eyes drift across the rest, they all wear similar expressions. Tifa, though clearly worried about Cloud, is smiling at you too and Yuffie’s grin mischievously down at you, wiggling her brows. Barrett looks somewhat confused, but he doesn’t look mad and Red and Cait’s expressions are just as eased.

None of them are mad.

“We’ll keep going,” Aerith nods at Cloud who has since turned his back to you. “You should get Reno somewhere safe,” she explains, sending you a thumbs up, stepping until she’s right in front of you.

You blink, body easing as her words settle.

Then, she leans down, lowering her voice; “and don’t worry about Cloud.”

She pulls back before you can say anything else, grabbing Cloud by the arm and tugging him with her as Tifa and Barrett both send you nods and then they’re all turning, walking off.

And just as Aerith turns the corner, she smiles back at you; “try to catch up you can, kay?”

You nod, still in shock, numb somewhat, until a minute passes and it’s just you and Reno.

Turning to the man, your chest tightens when you realize you’re faced with a whole new reality and that is Reno who no doubt will say something.

“Where’s Rude?” You find yourself asking, shifting to grab him so you can help him up. “Can you walk? If not, I can–”

Reno stops your movements, grabbing onto your arm with a tight hold before tugging you back down to sit with him. You stumble slightly, falling against him, your hands falling on his shoulders to catch yourself as you meet his gaze, faces inches apart from one another.

“Reno–”

“That was insane,” Reno breathes, shaking his head at you. “He would’ve killed you.”

Frowning, you swallow thickly; “it’s Sephiroth, I think… Cloud–well, I don’t think he’d try to hurt me–”

“Y/N,” Reno cuts in, “that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Lips parting, your shoulders fall. “My feet just moved.”

“You could’ve been killed!”

“You too,” you find yourself crying, eyes widening in exasperation as you meet his eyes. “And I couldn’t… let that happen, okay? Not to you… I was so scared and then my feet were moving and I just… fuck, are you okay?”

Reno stares back at you in disbelief.

“I thought you hated me,” he whispers, finally letting go of your arm.

“I tried to,” you mumble, glancing at your lap. “But I can’t. I… I love you.”

Reno sighs. “I’m a Turk.”

“I know,” you echo, biting your lip. “And I'm a part of Avalanche.”

His hand twitches by his side and he leans closer; “we could never work out.”

“I know,” you repeat, finally raising your head to meet his gaze once more. This time, you hold it, refusing to look away. He’s inches away, you can feel his breath ghost across your skin and feel his warmth radiate off of him. It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before the plate fell and you’ve missed him so much. “I couldn’t let you die though.”

Reaching forward, Reno cups your cheek and instantly, you lean into his touch. His eyes are sad, and there’s a deep frown across his lips. “I know,” he mimics, having nothing else to say. “I love you too, you know.”

Eyes falling shut, you let out a shaky breath. Normally, someone telling you they loved you as well would be happy but it pulls an ache from you that you can’t rightly explain.

“Can you walk?” You decide to ask after a moment.

“Yeah,” he grunts, pulling his hand away as you shuffle back, grabbing him by the arm and helping him to his feet. He lets out a groan as he does, and you frown up at him, watching as he uses his free hand to hold his stomach.

“Here,” you mumble, wrapping your arm around his waist and letting him lean his weight against you. “I’ll get you to Rude, okay?”

He hums lightly; “okay.”

“Then… then I have to go after them… you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “yeah, I know.”

He says it with a heavy heart and you feel it all the same. Because you loved him, and he loved you, but he was Shinra and you were Avalanche and despite it all, you both knew the reality of your situations.

Even if it hurts.

So damn much.

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii x reader #ff7 #ff7 x reader #ffvii #ffvii x reader #ffvii rebirth #final fantasy vii rebirth #reno #reno x reader #reno sinclair #reno sinclair x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Drawn Together 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You admire the tattoo through the plastic film. It’s so vibrant and red. The outline is beautiful and precise. You worried it would be less than with all your fidgeting but the hours of sitting paid off wonderfully.

You set your feet flat as Sam tosses his gloves and gathers up his tools. You fix the flat pleats of your straight cut skirt and smooth your white blouse. Plain and simple and neat. Just how everything in your life is. Well, except your tattoo.

You’re almost giddy. You feel so… edgy. You know you’re not but you’re going to enjoy the idea.

Your excitement is short lived as a heat settles over you. Like a shell you can’t see. You latch onto your wrist, holding your arms in front of you meekly as you peek across the shop. That man, Steve, he’s watching you again. You’re not sure he ever stopped as you kept your eyes on your round-toed flats for most of the time.

He smiles. The expression deepens the lines in his face and adds definition to his bearded jaw. His blue eyes sparkle deviously as you shy away. That’s the kind of boy, well, man, your mother would warn you about. Fifteen years ago and today.

You follow Sam to the counter and stir out your wallet from your black purse. You count out the rest of the fee in cash and hand it over. He explains the after care as he checks your count.

“Once you see blood under that film, you should take it off. Don’t keep it on longer than six hours. Don’t wrap it after and try to wear light clothing.”

“First ink?” The man interrupts, causing you to visibly flinch. Sam looks over your head and you hesitate to answer.

“Um, yes,” you turn your head only slightly and raise your voice so he can hear over the buzz.

“Can’t see it from here. What is it?”

“Steve, mind your business,” Sam retorts as he closes the till, “sorry about that. He’s always been too nosy for his own good.”

“You don’t gotta apologise for me,” Steve calls back, “I’m curious, is all. Sweetheart, if I disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you bend your ankle nervously and try to muster a smile at Sam, “thanks, I really like it. I love it. The colour is so good.”

“Appreciate it. As long as you're happy, I’m happy,” he grins, “here, take this.” He takes out a small booklet, “it’s everything you need to know about aftercare. Keep it clean, don’t touch it.”

“Oh, great,” you accept it, “that’s wonderful.” You tuck it into your purse, “thanks again. I’ll, er, I’ll go.”

“Have a good day,” Sam responds smoothly, a much needs balance for your awkwardness.

You turn and head for the door. You hear a low growl and peer back as you push through. Nat lifts her gun and punches Steve’s arm as he leans to keep an eye on you.

“Would you sit fucking still?” She hisses as he snickers in amusement.

You escape his gaze and the shop swiftly. That went a lot better than you thought. You only wish he hadn’t been there. Watching. A scary man like him, tattoos and all.

Well, you’ll never have another reason to go back to the shop or see that man. You had your dose of rebellion.

🎹

You resist the urge to scratch your ankle. You have discipline. An overbearing degree of discipline. Hammered so deep that you’re left hewn in rigid stone.

The rules. You’ve always been good at following those. It’s the one talent you have.

Aside from the piano.

You set up for the day, your ritual the same as every other. You change the water in the vase and place the long stems inside. The lilies are starting to wilt but they look good enough. You put them on the window sill, a soft breeze flowing in and fluttering the curtains.

You quickly brush a feather duster around the apartment, searching for any spec of dust. You’re gentle at the piano, the old boxy instrument is finely tuned despite its worn varnish. The bench is in a better state as you recently had it reupholstered.

You kick the corner of the carpet down as it folded over with an errant step and you pause to check out the tattoo. It’s so cool. Or cool to you. It’s probably lame to everyone else.

You imagine the rolling eyes and low whispers. Not really the tattoo type…

The boring type. That’s what you are. You live in your corner of the world and you keep to it. You don’t impinge, you don’t intrude, you are a very mindful person. Of others as much as yourself.

You fold the dusters and hang it in the closet from the hook on the inside of the door. You shut it, the hinges squeaking slightly. The walkup was inherited along with the piano. Both belonged to your grandfather. The same man who taught you how to play.

You breathe out as you run your fingertips along the belt of your dress. Some would say it’s out of style, you say it’s vintage. Nothing too flashy. Forest green with cap sleeves.

It’s always a bit nerve wracking to take on a new student. Amanda moved away and so the vacancy needs to be filled. You keep to a particular capacity. Both to maintain your sanity and your finances. Too many and you won’t be an effective teacher, too few and you won’t be able to afford the keys to practice.

It’s not too difficult. Usually their parents walk them in, talk a little bit, and go. Some of them stay after a few lessons to hear their children’s progress. You offer them tea if they do and some shortbread cookies; your grandmother’s secret recipe.

You pace as you check your watch, a slender golden chain attached to an oval face. You tap the glass with your fingernail and sigh. Two minutes.

You twirl and repeat your steps across the rug, just across the top of the stairs. You pull down your lip anxiously but correct the impatient habit quickly. Don’t fidget so much. Stop picking at yourself. Your mother’s voice lives in your head.

You circle around and straighten the framed embroidery above the antique side table. You lean back on your heel and consider it. Still a bit off. You work at getting it perfect, your obsession pierced by the doorbell.

You recoil and go to the top of the stairs. You look down and see a silhouette on the other side of the half-moon pane set into the thick walnut door. You glide your hand down the banister as you descend and steady yourself at the bottom.

You set your shoulders and smile. You’ve done this so many times before. Why are you so unsure? When have you ever been sure? Oh gosh, what if they see your tattoo? What if they think you’re trouble?

You grasp the curled handle and twist it. You pull the door open and your cheek twitches in surprise as you face the unexpectedly familiar face. You blink long and hard. You don’t believe it. It can’t be him. You must be dreaming. That must be why this whole day has felt so surreal.

“Hi,” Steve’s deep tone washes over you like a tide.

“Um, hello,” you look to the right, then the left, then at him. He’s alone. It’s just him. Why is he here?

You can’t be mistaken. You see the tattoos peeking out at the ends of his jacket sleeves along his knuckles. His newest addition shows through the white fabric of his plain cotton tee. It’s definitely the same man. How could you forget those eyes?

“I’m here for piano lessons? This is the right unit, right?”

“Piano? I– yeah, I teach but, er…” you reach to rub your neck and his gaze follows the gesture before returning to your face. He watches you intently, just like at the shop. “I usually teach–”

“Beginners,” he smirks, “yeah, I know I’m a bit old but I always wanted to learn.”

“Well, of course, um, anyone can learn but I…” you try not to show your confusion.

It’s not his age. You’ve taught adults before. No, it’s that he’s even there. This can’t be a coincidence, can it? Or maybe he doesn’t even remember you.

“So, you healing up?”

“What?”

“The tattoo.”

“Oh, uh,” you look down at your feet, “sure. It’s… alright.”

“I’m dying to scratch mine,” he chuckles, “which is why I need something to keep my hands busy.”

“Yes, I mean, okay,” you grip the door tightly.

“All cards on the table, I heard you in the shop say you taught piano,” he confesses, “I looked you up. I’m sorry. I hope that’s not weird.”

You let out a long breath. It is weird but he is being honest. He doesn’t seem like he’s up to anything. And anyone can get a tattoo, even you. So maybe he isn’t too bad. And maybe you need the cheque.

“You’re late,” you say, “usually I ask my students to be ten minutes early.”

“Got it,” he nods, “promise, it won’t happen again.”

“Put your shoes on the mat,” you back up and open the door, “since we’re already behind, I won’t have time for the tea.”

“Maybe next time,” he breaks the threshold as he peers around at the entryway, “nice place.”

“It is,” you say, “the piano is upstairs.”

You spin on your heel and scurry up the steps. You cling to the railing to keep yourself on your feet. Now that he’s inside, you’re even less sure about this.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #au #drawn together #tattoo au #marvel #mcu #captain america #natasha romanov #sam wilson

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 5 months

Note

for the 2k event:

congrats on all the followers!!!!!

Levi and reader are childhood best friends to lover to eventually a married couple. Maybe following their journey through all the seasons and even in no regrets?

Congrats again!!

hello! :3 i'm not sure how to fit this into a drabble, so i did headcanons about how Levi would have reacted to you being pregnant or having a child during these various points in time!

Dadvi Canonverse Headcanons | 2K Follower Event

ACWNR:

➼ Once it turns out that you're pregnant with his child, Levi hauls ass to get the two of you out of the Underground. He picks up shady jobs for the extra money (assassin!levi au anyone?) in the hopes that he can make enough to get you surface residency as soon as possible. ➼ With how uncleanly the Underground was, Levi would be very wary of where you were going. While he was never a fan of dirt and grime and it bugs him to no end to have it around, he was much more concerned about you potentially getting sick and putting further strain on your body that was already hosting a baby. ➼ With him picking up shadier jobs, things got more chaotic and he became more and more worried that he'd take a job he couldn't come back from. As a result, he'd spend every night with you in his arms, his hand over your belly, with him chatting to your unborn child, wanting to savor every moment that he could steal with you. ➼ If he was unfortunate and couldn't make enough money, he'd begin to have to plan on how to raise your kid in a hostile environment in a way that best avoided the type of childhood that the two of you had. ➼ Your pregnancy is one of the reasons why he jumped up so quickly at the opportunity to earn surface residency when he's recruited to assassinate Erwin. He knew he didn't have much of a choice when it came to taking the job, but having you and your unborn child as an extra incentive made him that much more motivated.

Season 1:

➼ Especially with how dangerous expeditions were, he would always go out of his way to visit you and your child regularly after expeditions. He'd be home whenever he could be, just because tomorrow was never guaranteed. ➼ If you're a Scout, he'll try to work with you to get you put on duties that you'd be able to do while pregnant that wouldn't put you or the unborn baby in too much danger. Unfortunately, that meant you weren't going outside the Walls with him anymore. ➼ When he hears that the Wall had been breached, he internally panics. He had promised to keep you in the Walls to keep you safe, yet even the safety of the Walls was compromised. The first thing he does after clearing out the Titans in Trost was to search for you and your child. ➼ Levi's a complete mess when he comes home to you after the Female Titan incident. His entire squad and a significant amount of the Scouts had died on this mission. Being around you and being able to hear you and your child's voice made it just a tad bit more bearable. You were the safe space that he needed to be able to process everything that had happened.

Season 2:

➼ As if to make up for lost time, Levi was able to spend much more time with you because of his leg injury. He hated not being able to do anything to help out with the Survey Corps, but he was also glad to be able to spend time with you and your kid without having to feel pressed for time. ➼ This shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, but Levi's the perfect house husband. He's great in caring for you while you were pregnant, especially since he had to be home due to his injury anyway. He's even better with caring for your newborn baby so you could occasionally rest. ➼ When he heard about the Wall getting breached again, he seriously began considering if he could fenagle a way to move you to the Interior. Of course, the idea of hiding didn't sit right with you, but you bet he's annoyed as fuck when you provided resistance. All he wanted to do was to keep you and your child safe, and things looked like they were falling apart left and right.

Season 3:

➼ Levi is writing you letters the entire time when he's on the run from the Interior Police. He couldn't visit you, and even sending you letters was risky. If you were pregnant, he would make sure that there was someone to help you out so you weren't just suddenly left on your own. ➼ Once Historia is crowned as Queen and he's able to return, he immediately goes back home to you, spending much time needed with you and your child since he's been gone for a while. If you were pregnant when he left and gave birth while he was gone, he'd be super harsh on himself about it even though there wasn't anything he could've done with the way that events played out. He'd overcompensate with the acts of service to try to make up for what he missed. ➼ He immediately falls into your arms after he returns from Shiganshina. If your kid was there to see him, he'd pull them in too. He didn't bother hiding it because you both believed in being honest with your kids about emotions and vulnerability. ➼ Once the Titans have been cleared, he takes you and your kid outside the Walls to visit the beach, trying to answer questions as best as he could as your child bombarded him with questions about humanity existing outside the Walls.

Season 4:

➼ After his initial trip to Liberio, he'd take you and your kid to visit, just to explore the wonders of civilization outside the Walls. It was nice to come here as an actual vacation instead of under the pretense of war. ➼ It absolutely breaks his heart when he sees the pained look in your eyes after he tells you that he was to leave you for a while to go into the forest to watch over Zeke. This was the last time you saw him until after the war was over. ➼ Since you're separated, he starts writing you letters again, sometimes sending back a flower or piece of nature that reminded him of you. He took immense comfort in the letters that you'd write back, bringing that subtle hint of your scent. He could almost hear you say the words and it helps him throughout his long days waiting for news that would never come. ➼ When the letters suddenly stop, and the Rumbling began shortly after, you began to panic. If it wasn't for your kid, you'd drop everything to find him, especially with the assumption that he must have died if Zeke was able to escape. ➼ When you see him again at the end of the War, you were both horrified and relieved. You were relieved because he was alive after everyone kept telling you that he was dead, but also horrified when you saw everything that he had gone through.

Post-War:

➼ If you get pregnant post-war, Levi does everything he can to find a good place to live with easy access to care to make sure everything goes smoothly. ➼ He's a little frustrated with himself at first, since he can't help you with the baby or kid in the same capacity that he would have been able to prior to his injuries, but the two of you adjust, and he figures out alternative ways to help. (brb currently crying over imagining Levi bottle feeding your baby from his wheelchair) ➼ Levi really likes going around town with you pushing him in his wheelchair as he's holding onto your toddler. It was good quality time, chatting with you as you walked him, and playing with your toddler that was essentially the split image of him. ➼ You bet that your child is absolutely fascinated with Levi's scars and is constantly asking for stories about the war. Levi was like a hero to them and they were completely enthralled by the fact that he was such an important participant in the war. ➼ He'd occasionally take you and your kid to Paradis Island just to visit and maybe show your kid memorable areas, like where the two of you got married or ran into each other for the first time.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #follower event #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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oohtobeagooner · 5 months

Text

Nonsense

Alessia Russo x Female Reader

This is my first ever fic… go easy on me 😅

Fluff, mention of alcohol.

——————————————————————————

Alessia’s busy thinking about tonight’s team outing. It’s her first one as a gunner and she is incredibly nervous. She’s snapped out of her thoughts as a thick Irish accent fills the locker room ‘’Less, you coming?’’ she smirks ‘’Race you out there’’ and she leaves Katie stunned chasing after her until she spots Alessia on the floor in a slightly compromising position with Y/N L/N – Arsenal’s new CB and Alessia’s crush. ‘’You two get a room’’ Katie says and smirks at Alessia. Her cheeks are red and she offers Y/N her hand to help her up. ‘’Sorry er- I was running away from erm Katie and I didn’t see you there’’ she fumbles over her words. Y/N smirks and takes Alessia’s hand pulling herself up. ‘’Less I know you’re clumsy but maybe next time don’t take me with you?’’ you laugh and leave her walking with Katie as you runs off to the pitches. Katie laughs as soon as Y/N runs away ‘’You’ve got it bad girl… tell her!’’ Alessia sighs ‘’I can’t McCabe she doesn’t like me like that’’. Katie pats her on the back and smiles.

Jonas splits the group into 4 teams for the last bit of training for matches. Y/N realises that she is marking Alessia and her nerves settle in. She’s fancied her since her first England senior appearance but Alessia signing for Arsenal has only made you catch more and more feelings. Y/N had recently signed from Brighton after an stand out season. Jonas had been delighted with the signing after losing Rafa Souza early in the window.

Y/N’s on Leah’s team. You’re winning 2-1 when Jonas calls for the last 30 seconds. Little picks up the ball and passes to Pelova who goes past Leah and puts Alessia through 2 v 1. Katie shouts at Y/N to foul her but Y/N knows that she can make the tackle. What she did not expect though was to end up on top of Alessia in the same compromising position as this morning with the ball running out of play. Jonas blows the whistle and Y/N get up holding out her hand to help the Italian up ‘’Better luck next time Less’’. Katie jumps on Alessia’s back ‘’Cat got your tongue Less?’’ she smirks and walks away.

Entering the changing rooms Leah has ‘Freed from Desire’ playing as if they had just won the world cup. Alessia shakes her head as the winning side celebrate their victory. ‘’Save it for tonight Williamson’’ Lotte laughs. Y/N looks over at Alessia who is putting her boots away and smiles to herself but not without Leah noticing ‘’See something you like Y/N/N’’ she whispers in your ear you look like a deer caught in headlights.. ‘’erm.. I was.. yeah..’’ Leah laughs and announces that she will see you all tonight at 7. You grab your kit bag and follow behind her.

Leah mocks you the entire car ride. She knows you have feelings for Alessia and has been encouraging you to come clean to her. ‘’What if she doesn’t feel the same Le? I potentially make it so awkward for all of us as a team!’’ Le smiles at you, pulling up to your flat ‘’Y/N that girl is a blushing mess every time you are in her presence. For some reason I doubt that will happen but a little risk won’t harm you’’. You smile as she opens the door to your shared flat.

Your head hurts from what Le had just told you. Could Less like you back? You try not to overthink it as you make a smoothie and head in the shower. ‘’LEAH!!!’’ you shout hoping your flat mate heard you. Almost instantly Le runs in ‘’What’s wrong?!!!’‘ ‘’Can you help me pick something hot to wear tonight please?’’ ‘’Seriously? I thought you were hurt’’ She scoffs at you but helps you anyway.

Alessia arrives at the venue 15 minutes before she is supposed to, she’s nervous. Lotte arrives shortly after and orders Lessi a drink to calm her nerves. ‘’It’ll be a great night Less don’t worry!’’ the blonde smiles ‘’I’m sure Y/N will love it too’’ she smirks at Alessia ‘’what? How do you know?’’ ‘’Less I’ve known you for long enough now, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Plus Katie isn’t very subtle… speaking of…’’ In walks Katie, someone Alessia has grown to love very much since arriving at Arsenal. One by one the Arsenal girls arrive but it gets to 7:15 and no sign of Leah and Y/N.

‘’Shall I call them Less?’’ she looks stressed and thanks Lia seconda later in walks Leah and Y/N arguing about always being late because of a certain England Captain.

Y/N walks up to Less clearly seeing her stressed and offers her apologies and hugs the tall blonde. Their hug lingers a bit and Leah coughs to break them apart. They both blush. ‘’Let’s get this party started’’ Leah shouts. It’s comical really, none of the girls could sing particularly well… somehow a girl band formed of Leah, Lia, Kim, Beth and Viv and you can’t help but laugh as they sing ‘Wannabe’ at the top of their lungs. Shot after shot the songs became funnier and every seemed to be having a great time.

Alessia relaxes. She smiles whilst sat on the sofa sipping her cocktail. ‘’Not singing tonight Russo?’’ she locks eyes with the brunette. ‘’Maybe I’m waiting for you to show me the ropes’ Y/N’’ she is taken aback by her boldness but rolls with it ‘’See I’ve been trying to save your eardrums but you asked for this…’’ and up Y/N gets, determination mixed with liquid courage coursing through her veins.

Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter begins playing. Her eyes fixated on Alessia as she sings ‘’Looking at you got me thinking nonsense, cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in’’, fumbling words but making her point nether the less. The rest of your team are vibing with you whilst Leah and Katie smirk at each other knowingly.

Alessia feels a lot of things in this moment as Y/N approaches her on the sofa. ‘’Hope you enjoyed the show Russo?’’ smirk plastered on her lips. Alessia pulls Y/N outside ‘’Are you trying to play with my feelings here Y/L/N?’’. You grab Alessia’s hand as she tries to walk away and smile, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear and tilt her chin up to your face. ‘’Alessia Russo… you are beautiful’’ she looks at you confused but holds your gaze. She leans up and connects your lips in a gentle kiss as you both smile into it. As you pull away, Less pulls you into a hug ‘’I take it you have feelings too?’’ you smirk into the hug. Alessia pulls back from the hug and smacks your shoulder lightly ‘’Shut up, I thought it was so obvious!’’ you smile. ‘’To be honest I did not realise until Leah had me thinking earlier’’. Less pulls you into her side and kisses your head, ‘’Would you like to go on a date tomorrow?’’ you smile up at her ‘’I’d love nothing more, let’s just hope you remember this tomorrow!’’ Alessia smiles but knows she has waited for this moment for a while… there was no way she was forgetting.

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x y/n #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader

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zapreportsblog · 7 months

Note

Hello. I hope I'm not disturbing you. Your articles about the Volturi are really great. If you accept request. Can you write poly yandere volturi kings and female soulmate reader? Please

❝please don’t take our sunshine away❞

✭ pairing : yandere poly volturi kings x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) has always been a ray of sunshine, it didn’t matter if she was having a bad day or what she had a habit of making others around her feel uncontrollable happiness but sometimes that happiness comes with a price

✭ twilight masterlist 2

(Y/N) had always been known for her infectious happiness. From the earliest days of her life, her parents could hardly recall a moment when she wasn't giggling or blabbering away to anyone who crossed her path, even if she couldn't understand a word they were saying in return. Her bright, ever-present smile seemed like a permanent fixture on her face as she grew up, and it was a source of joy for everyone who knew her.

One crisp autumn evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the town square, (Y/N) decided to take a leisurely stroll. Her heart was light, and she hummed a tune she had heard earlier in the day. It was just another ordinary evening in her ordinary life, filled with extraordinary happiness.

But tonight, fate had something unexpected in store for her. As she rounded a corner, she collided with a tall figure, causing both of them to stumble back. (Y/N) quickly regained her balance, her ever-present smile still firmly in place. However, when she looked at the person she had bumped into, her smile faltered for the first time in as long as she could remember.

It was Marcus, a man who was a familiar face in the town but known for entirely different reasons. Marcus was a solitary figure, often seen on late-night strolls, and he always carried an air of sadness about him. His eyes, once bright, seemed dull, and the weight of the world appeared to rest upon his shoulders.

Without a word, (Y/N) made an impulsive decision. Instead of offering a quick apology and continuing on her way, she fell into step beside Marcus, matching his slow, deliberate pace. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was palpable, but (Y/N) didn't mind. She had always believed that sometimes, company didn't need words.

It wasn't until they reached the center of the town square, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, that Marcus finally broke the silence. He turned to (Y/N) and asked, "Why are you following me?"

(Y/N) looked up at him, her smile returning. "I'm not following you. I'm just keeping you company."

He seemed taken aback by her response. "But I haven't said a word since you joined me. Why would you want to be with someone who's so...silent?"

She shrugged, her eyes reflecting the warmth of the lamplight. "Sometimes, silence is the best company of all. And everyone needs a little company sometimes, even if it's just silent company."

Marcus didn't respond immediately, but (Y/N) could see a glimmer of something in his eyes—a spark of recognition, perhaps. It was a simple encounter, an unexpected meeting between two very different people, but it was a moment that had the potential to change both of their lives in ways they couldn't yet imagine.

As they stood there in the quiet of the town square, (Y/N) and Marcus, the happy and the sad, the talkative and the silent, found themselves sharing a moment of understanding that transcended words.

As the days passed, it became a familiar sight to see Marcus and (Y/N) walking together through the town. What had started as an unexpected encounter had evolved into a quiet companionship. Marcus, once known for his silence, began to open up to (Y/N) little by little. They talked about the weather, the changing seasons, and the happenings in the town.

One chilly evening, as they strolled along a cobblestone path, (Y/N) turned to Marcus with a gentle smile and asked, "What's been weighing on your heart, Marcus? You've been carrying a sadness that's hard to miss. Is there something you'd like to share?"

Marcus hesitated for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "It's nearing the anniversary of when I lost my wife," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every year, this time brings back the memories, and it's hard to bear."

(Y/N)'s face softened with empathy, and she frowned. Without hesitation, she stepped closer to Marcus and wrapped her arms around him in a warm, comforting hug. Marcus was taken aback by the sudden gesture of affection, his undead heart skipping a beat at her unexpected warmth.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Marcus," (Y/N) whispered, her voice filled with genuine sympathy. "It's always hard losing those we love most. But always remember that they're by your side and in your heart at all times. You're never truly alone. Sure, they aren't here physically, but mentally and spiritually, they'll never depart you."

As (Y/N) pulled away from the hug, she met Marcus's gaze with a reassuring smile. But something in that smile caused Marcus's eyes to widen, a spark of intensity flickering within them. It was a momentary shift, a subtle change that (Y/N) might have brushed off as a trick of the light if she had been anyone else.

But Marcus was not just anyone. Unbeknownst to (Y/N), the warmth she had shown him, the understanding, and the empathy had awakened something deep within him. A possessive desire, a yearning for her companionship that bordered on obsession. It was a dangerous path that Marcus had unknowingly started down, one that would lead him to protect (Y/N) at all costs, even if it meant losing himself in the process.

As they continued their walk, the night around them seemed to grow darker, and the bond between Marcus and (Y/N) deepened, setting the stage for a connection that would become increasingly intense and complex in the days to come.

The small town had its share of curious residents, and one of the most inquisitive was Aro. He had noticed the change in Marcus's routine—no longer was he the solitary figure wandering the town's streets in the late hours. Instead, Marcus had been frequently spotted with (Y/N), a happy and talkative presence by his side.

One evening, Aro decided to approach Marcus as he was leaving his home. "Marcus," he called out, his voice polite but laced with curiosity. "I couldn't help but notice you've been spending a lot of time with a human lately. Any particular reason for your late-night strolls together?"

Marcus turned to Aro, his expression suddenly cold and distant. "Why do you care?" he replied tersely, his tone devoid of its usual politeness.

Taken aback by Marcus's sharp response, Aro stammered, "I was just curious, Marcus. No need to be so defensive."

But Marcus didn't offer any further explanation. Instead, he turned away and walked off into the night, leaving Aro standing there, perplexed by his friend's unusual behavior.

Aro couldn't shake off the feeling that something had changed in Marcus, something that went beyond the surface. Determined to find out more, he made a quick decision. He signaled to Demetri, a loyal friend who had a knack for discreetly following people, and quietly instructed him to tail Marcus without being noticed.

As Demetri blended into the shadows and followed Marcus at a safe distance, Aro couldn't help but wonder what secrets his darling brother might be hiding and what had caused this sudden shift in his demeanor.

Demetri returned to Aro with his findings, delivering a report in hushed tones as they stood in the dimly lit streets of the town. His observations were clear and concise, painting a picture of Marcus's growing attachment to (Y/N).

"It's unmistakable, Aro," Demetri whispered, his eyes cautious. "Marcus is falling in love with (Y/N). Their connection goes beyond mere companionship. He watches her with an intensity I've never seen in him before."

Aro's features hardened at the revelation. Love, in the vampire world, was a dangerous and forbidden emotion. It made their kind vulnerable, and Aro was determined to protect his coven's secrets at all costs. He couldn't allow Marcus to jeopardize everything they had built.

One night, when Marcus was occupied with a task away from the town, Aro made a chilling decision. He would confront (Y/N) and eliminate the threat she posed to their kind. He believed it was the only way to save Marcus from himself.

As Aro approached (Y/N)'s home, his heartless resolve held firm. He knew what he had to do, and he was prepared to do it without hesitation. But when he knocked on her door and saw her welcoming smile as she opened it, something within him shifted.

(Y/N) had no knowledge of Aro's intentions. She greeted him warmly, inviting him inside, completely unaware of the danger she was in. Aro could feel his undead heart skip a beat as he looked into her eyes, filled with genuine kindness and trust.

In that moment, something inside Aro awakened—a twisted, possessive desire that went beyond his initial intent. He couldn't bring himself to harm her, not when she looked at him with such innocence and warmth.

Aro abruptly excused himself, leaving (Y/N) unharmed but bewildered. He retreated into the shadows, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He knew he couldn't kill her, but he couldn't allow Marcus to continue his attachment either. Especially not when he found himself entangled in her web of sunshine, so he decided on a different course of action.

In secret, Aro began contacting (Y/N). Early in the mornings, he would leave bouquets of beautiful flowers on her doorstep, each with a note signed simply with the initials A.V. He couldn't resist the temptation of being close to her, of having her know that he existed in her world.

As these secret gestures continued, Aro's thoughts deepened, and soon they begin to take a turn for the worst. He found himself drawn further into the web of obsession and desire. (Y/N) remained unaware of the dark forces that now watched over her, and the consequences of this forbidden connection were yet to fully unfold.

Aro had made up his mind – (Y/N) could not remain a human who knew of both Marcus and him. The existence of vampires had to remain a secret, and he was willing to go to great lengths to ensure it. He needed a vampire who was willing to sire her, and he knew exactly where to turn – Caius.

Approaching Caius in the dimly lit chamber where the Volturi convened, Aro explained his plan. "Caius, I have a proposition for you," he began, his voice dripping with persuasive charm.

Caius regarded Aro with a skeptical expression. "What's in it for me, Aro?“

Aro smiled, knowing how to appeal to Caius's desires. "It's been centuries since one of us has sired a new vampire. Think of the power and influence that would come with having a fledgling under your control. It would be a demonstration of your strength."

Caius's interest was piqued, but he remained cautious. "And who is this human you have in mind?"

Aro provided Caius with (Y/N)'s address, allowing him to watch her from the shadows. At first, Caius couldn't see anything particularly special about her. She appeared to be an ordinary human, going about her daily life in the town.

However, as he continued to observe, he noticed something intriguing. People seemed to gravitate toward her, drawn to her presence as if by an invisible force. It was as if she possessed a unique magnetism that drew others in.

Caius saw the potential in her and believed that her gift, whatever it may be, would shine even brighter as a vampire. He agreed to Aro's plan, and they set the wheels in motion.

One fateful night, as (Y/N) walked home alone, Caius attacked her swiftly and silently. He gave her a small amount of his venom, enough to begin the transformation into a vampire, and left her there, gasping for breath.

Demetri, under Aro's orders, arrived just in time to rescue (Y/N) from the brink of death. He spirited her away to a secluded house far from the town, where she would complete her transformation in secret.

The transformation into a vampire was agonizing, filled with searing pain and screams that echoed through the empty house. Demetri watched over her, ensuring that no one would hear her suffering. It was a cruel and calculated plan, orchestrated by Aro.

As (Y/N)'s human life faded away, she was reborn as a vampire, her journey into the world of the undead marked by betrayal and secrecy, setting the stage for a dark and complex future.

As (Y/N) gradually regained consciousness, her surroundings were strange and disorienting. The last thing she remembered was walking home alone at night, and now she found herself in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by three strangers. Panic surged through her as she tried to make sense of the situation.

Aro, with his ever-calming demeanor, stepped forward and spoke gently, "Do not be afraid, my dear. We are only here to help."

(Y/N)'s eyes darted between the three men, her heart racing with fear and confusion. "Where am I? Who are you?"

Caius, the one who had turned her, took a step forward and offered a reassuring smile. "My name is Caius. We found you in a dire state, half-dead, and I made the decision to save your life."

(Y/N) was still disoriented, her memories muddled and elusive. She couldn't recall how she had ended up in this predicament or who these people were. But Caius's words had an immediate effect on her. Gratitude overwhelmed her fear, and she threw her arms around him, thanking him for saving her life.

Demetri, who had been silently observing the scene, felt a pang of discomfort as he watched (Y/N) embrace Caius. He knew that this display of affection was a ruse, a part of the plan to keep her in the dark about her true nature. Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he saw her gratitude directed toward Caius.

Aro, too, felt a subtle undercurrent of jealousy as he watched (Y/N) with Caius. Though he would never openly admit it, he couldn't deny the strange pull she had on him, the unexplainable desire to be close to her.

But for now, they had successfully deceived (Y/N) into believing that her transformation was an act of salvation, rather than a calculated move to protect the vampire world's secrets. As she clung to Caius with gratitude in her newly immortal life, the complex dynamics among Aro, Caius, and Demetri were set in motion, with (Y/N) at the center of it all, unaware of the truth hidden in her missing memories.

In the moonlit expanse of the Volturi castle, Marcus paced uneasily through the grand hallways. His mind was consumed by one thought, or rather, one person - (Y/N). It had been days since he had last seen her, and a growing sense of suspicion nestled in his heart.

He had noticed the way Aro and Caius had been acting strangely lately, whispering secrets that excluded him and sneaking off to places unknown. Marcus had always been perceptive, especially when it came to the actions of his fellow Volturi leaders. These changes did not escape his watchful gaze.

One chilly night, Marcus decided he could no longer ignore the burning curiosity within him. He followed Aro and Caius as they slipped away from the castle and into the dense, ancient forest surrounding Volterra. He knew better than to question them directly; he needed to uncover the truth himself.

Hidden behind a thick cluster of trees, Marcus watched from a distance as Aro and Caius entered a remote cabin. The moon painted their silhouettes against the dark night. He waited in silence, the chill seeping into his bones as minutes turned into hours.

Eventually, the door creaked open, and Aro and Caius exited the cabin. Marcus knew it was his chance. As the two vampires disappeared into the night, he slipped inside the cabin, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior.

There, in the corner of the room, lay a figure he recognized all too well - (Y/N). But the sight that met his eyes left him stunned and furious. She was no longer the human he had known. She had been turned into a vampire.

He approached her cautiously, anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior. "It's dangerous for you to stay here," he whispered, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Before he could say more, the door swung open, and Aro and Caius returned, their expressions unreadable. Marcus straightened, his anger now unhidden. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded in a low, angry tone.

Aro stepped forward, attempting to placate the brewing tension. "Marcus, (Y/N) is an extraordinary vampire. When she was human, she had the gift of attraction. But now, as a vampire, her power has intensified. The more time you spend around her, the stronger the pull becomes. It's... almost obsessive."

Marcus was concerned and infuriated. Caius, his sire, spoke up defiantly, "She's mine now, Marcus. I won't give her up."

The fury that had been smoldering erupted within Marcus, and he seized Caius, pinning him against a nearby tree. "This is not right," he hissed.

Aro intervened, "Let's not fight, brothers. There must be a way to share her."

The tension hung thick in the air, as Marcus, Caius, and Aro stood in the moonlit forest, their futures entangled in the presence of the gifted (Y/N).

"What do you suggest, then?" Marcus demanded, his grip on Caius loosening slightly as he considered Aro's words.

Aro smiled in his usual charismatic manner, despite the tense situation. "As I mentioned earlier, we could share her. She would only be aware of our presence, and occasionally Demetri's, to maintain the illusion of her normal life."

Marcus frowned, recalling Aro's earlier warning about (Y/N)'s allure. "But you said the longer someone spends with her, the more they fall in love with her."

Caius, still pinned to the tree, chimed in, "That's why we can't let Demetri be with her all the time. As long as he's only a protector of sorts, the pull to be with her won't be as strong."

Marcus considered the proposition, his anger slowly giving way to a begrudging agreement. The prospect of sharing (Y/N) was far from ideal, but it seemed like the only way to keep her safe and maintain some semblance of control over their own desires.

Reluctantly, he released Caius, who straightened his clothing. "We shall share her," Marcus conceded, a mix of resentment and longing in his voice.

With that decision made, the three Volturi kings now had (Y/N) all to themselves, each harboring their own desires and secrets that could either lead to unity or turmoil within the ancient vampire coven.

180 notes · View notes

anyasathenaeum · 11 months

Note

*KICKS DOWN DOOR* YOU ASK FOR ERIKS AND I SHALL INDULGE ok so what im gonna need is some where the reader thinks Vash (they were dating before everything went to shit) is dead until they blow into town with Woofboy and they do the whole Recognition thing yknow. Ok and so after all the Bad Shit gets dealt with and they have a moment alone to talk, he thinks that they're not gonna be in love with him anymore after all this time and might even be pissed at him for sort of "abandoning" them but they just express nothing but joy at having him back in their arms again and how they're soulmates and sappy stuff like that and its very sweet and emotional and raw because they missed each other so so much. And if you sprinkled just a little spice at the end I wouldn't mind cuz the long hair and stubble is so sexy on that man. Maybe it would be great part 2 bait idk I don't wanna put too much on you. Might be best to play that by ear.

Sorry this is so long I got excited when I saw ur post ily bye.

Across Time and Space (Part 1)

A/N: HECK YEAH ANON I AM SO HERE FOR THIS. ERIKS!VASH HURT COMFORT LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I'm mostly going off of 98!Eriks with some Stampede!Eriks mixed in hehe and this is gonna have to be split into 2 parts because I'm INSPIRED. This part is mostly set up and some hurt in the hurt/comfort part of things. :P Read the continuation in part 2 here!

Pairing: Eriks!Vash x reader

Warnings: Some slight violence, mention of nudity, literally just going off episode 18 of Trigun so potential spoilers, potential spoilers for episode 12 of Trigun Stampede, the "hurt" part of "hurt/comfort"

You brought your hand up to shield your eyes from the glaring sunlight as the tiny town came into view, the bus you were on finally arriving after what felt like an eternity and a half.

"Remind me again why we chose to come to this tiny town, Wolfwood," You grumbled under your breath, grabbing your backpack and strapping it to your back as you started to get ready to disembark from the bus.

"Cause we gotta see if we can find the Humanoid Typhoon here," The priest replied, shooting you a smile that you couldn't bring yourself to return.

"Vash is dead, Wolfwood," You snapped back, your heart tightening in your chest as you said his name for what felt like the first time in forever, "He's dead, and we're not finding him."

Wolfwood just stayed silent, watching you carefully as you let out a deep sigh, rubbing your face with your hands, trying desperately to brush off the pain that the mere thought of Vash had brought you.

Wolfwood wasn't a fool - he knew you and Vash had been in love with each other. He knew that you and Vash were more than friends, that Vash was everything to you. Wolfwood remembered how you seemed to stop living after the disaster in the city of July, when the city was turned into a crater and Vash was nowhere to be found. You had watched the man you loved fall from the sky and the city cave in on itself in a massive explosion of energy - there was no way Vash could've survived that.

When Vash died, so did you. You existed, sure - you walked and talked and drank and ate, but you had stopped living. It was heartbreaking to watch - both Wolfwood and Meryl couldn't stand to see you so broken, but nothing they did could bring Vash back. And so, you became silent, closed-off, and you never smiled anymore.

"I'm sorry, Wolfwood. I just... don't see the point in hoping for what can't be," You apologized, your voice quiet as you stared down at the floor, your heart aching in your chest as Vash's smiling face appeared in your mind.

Wolfwood sighed a bit and just stepped forward, throwing his arm around your shoulder casually. However, when he spoke, his tone was surprisingly gentle.

"It's okay. You're still hurting, (Y/N). Let's just get off this bus and settle in, yeah?"

You nodded, pulling up your hood to cover your head as you followed Wolfwood off the bus, shoving through all the people who were fighting to get on the bus you had just arrived on.

"What the hell is all that about?" You muttered, glancing at Wolfwood in confusion as you both watched the crowd of people swarming the bus, many of them shouting at the driver to let them on.

"No clue, but I have a feeling we'll find out real soon," Wolfwood replied, his shades glistening in the sunlight as he turned his head, gesturing towards a building not too far away, "Let's start at the saloon. If anybody's got information, they'll likely be there."

You just nodded and followed Wolfwood, keeping your head down and your face hidden - you didn't feel like starting a conversation with anybody who recognized you as new to the town.

However, that plan immediately went out the window the moment you and Wolfwood stepped foot into the saloon, as you suddenly found every person in the saloon pointing their guns at the two of you. You let out a stifled yelp and threw your hands up, your heart beating fast in your chest. You heard Wolfwood let out a small sound just like you had, his hands up in the air, too, sweating slightly as he glanced around.

Thankfully, after a few seconds, the townsfolk decided you weren't a threat and lowered their weapons. With that, you and Wolfwood slowly approached the bar, and you could hear Wolfwood chatting with the bartender. As he did, you walked over to the window of the saloon, gazing at the people walking by and watching the mob chasing after the bus you had arrived on.

'Man, what a weird place,' You thought to yourself, 'Feels so tense here.'

Suddenly, you watched the ground near the bus explode, sending people flying through the air and causing Wolfwood to exclaim, "What happened over there?"

The bartender explained that the town was overrun with bandits, and then you heard the name "Vash the Stampede" escape his lips and your heart just about stopped in your chest. However, you immediately recognized that the kind of violence being orchestrated by this gang being run by "Vash the Stampede" was everything Vash opposed. There was no way this was Vash's doing.

'Like it matters, he's been dead for almost two years anyway,' You thought to yourself bitterly, your mouth pressing into a thin line. You weren't listening to whatever the bartender was telling Wolfwood, but you found yourself glancing over at the entrance as you heard the door swing open.

All the patrons immediately had their guns pointing at the intruders, which in this case, happened to be a tall man with long, blonde hair wearing glasses, holding a young girl with short, brown hair in what almost looked like a chokehold. You found yourself reaching for your own weapon, readying to fight the man until you heard the girl speak.

"Uh oh. Hey, what's the big idea you guys?!"

You jumped a little at how loud she was, and you heard the patrons mumbling to themselves, "Oh, it's only Lina."

"What do you mean "only Lina"?! Let go of me, Eriks!" The young girl, Lina, shouted, freeing herself from the grasp of the tall, blonde man who simply let her go and watched her walk towards the bar, his expression surprised.

"Lina, what's the big hurry?" The bartender asked as the girl walked over, standing right next to you and Wolfwood. You studied the girl carefully, deciding that she couldn't be older than 12 at the most.

'She's very brave, I gotta give her that,' You thought to yourself, your lip twitching upwards a bit.

"I was wondering if you could hide me somewhere," Lina asked, a sheepish smile on her face as she asked.

The bartender looked a bit concerned as he inquired, "What did you do this time?"

"She doesn't know when to quit."

You jumped out of your skin at the sudden, new voice - the tall, blonde man, Eriks, had walked up to the bar without you noticing. You physically jumped, your hood falling from your head and revealing your face, not that it mattered - you weren't trying to hide anymore.

"Oh, sorry! Did I scare yo-?" Eriks began to apologize, turning to look at you as he did so, but his sentence died in his mouth as he looked at your face, his eyes widening behind his glasses.

"It's okay," You let out a jittery half-chuckle, just trying to recollect yourself, "I just didn't hear you walk up to the bar, just startled me a bit."

Eriks didn't say a word - he just continued to look at you, his eyes almost owlishly wide. You couldn't decode the expression on the man's face, and you began to feel uncomfortable at the level of intensity in his gaze.

"Um... is something wrong?" You asked, your voice making it clear that you were becoming uncomfortable.

That was enough to snap Eriks out of whatever stupour he was in, with him shaking his head a bit as though trying to clear it, his tone a bit embarrassed, "S-Sorry! No, nothing's wrong, you just... you look like somebody I knew once."

You found yourself wanting to smile a bit, but the words struck pain into your heart again and you just nodded, your lips pressing into a thin line once again.

"I see."

The man, Eriks, let out a nervous laugh before extending his hand to you for you to shake, "I'm Eriks. Sorry about startling you...?"

It was clear he was asking for your name. You just extended your hand and took his, shaking it firmly, "(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

You thought you felt Eriks' grip on your hand falter for half a moment, but you brushed it off - probably nothing of note.

"N-Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," Eriks replied, his voice breaking slightly. He was evidently very, very nervous.

"Are you okay?" You asked bluntly, "You look ready to pass out."

Eriks just nodded before letting your hand go, "Y-Yeah! I'm good, I'm fine. Just, um... Lina's in trouble."

You didn't entirely buy that sudden excuse, but you decided to go with it, "Uh oh, what did she do?"

That's when you heard Lina explaining that she thumped a bandit across the face and that the bandit was coming after her.

"What are you telling me?" The bartender asked, his voice full of worry and his expression becoming one of horror, "Oh, my dear..."

"Yeah... I'm afraid so," Lina confirmed, leaning on the bar with a sad expression on her face, "And they weren't real happy about it. But, at least I don't think they saw me come in here."

The bartender immediately began to yell, and before you had a second to process what was happening, the wall next to you exploded, causing you to cry out as you got thrown across the room.

"Hey... I wasn't done eating yet," You heard Wolfwood complain, and you groaned as you sat up from the floor where you'd landed. You could've laughed at the image of Wolfwood holding his knife and fork over his plate, which was now crushed by a piece of broken wall.

"(Y/N)! You okay?"

You looked up to see Eriks standing above you, offering you his hand to help you up, which you took gladly.

"Yeah, I'm okay," You replied, brushing yourself off as you got to your feet, wincing slightly as your back ached from the impact, "I'm probably badly bruised, but I don't think anything's broken."

The look of relief on Eriks' face didn't feel like it matched what it should've been for a stranger he had just met - he looked relieved as he would look if you had been one of his closest friends. It was weird.

However, before you had a moment longer to think about it all, you heard yelling coming from outside the bar - the bandit who Lina had hit, yelling to give her up or that he'd shoot again if they didn't.

You grit your teeth, anger surging through your body - how dare this bandit threaten a child? She may be feisty and fiery, but she was still just a child. You grabbed your weapon and began to walk towards the hole in the wall, but somebody stopped you in your tracks, putting their arm out in front of you - Eriks.

"No, wait. Let me handle this," He spoke, his voice quiet but very sure. A surge of familiarity coursed through you - where had you heard this before? That tone... that calmness... it unsettled you as you knew you'd heard it before, but where? You couldn't pin it.

That split second of you being thrown off by the sudden feeling of déjà-vu was all Eriks needed before he walked out of the bar, his hands in the air, trying to appease the bandit and stop him from doing further damage to anybody or anything.

"Wolfwood," You mumbled, coming up to the priest, "Is it just me, or does Eriks feel... familiar to you?"

The priest just looked at you carefully, "Familiar? Familiar how?"

"I don't know," You confessed, "Just... the way he spoke to me just now reminded me of-"

Your eyes widened and your words died on your lips as you realized exactly who Eriks had reminded you of.

Vash.

You didn't need to say anything - Wolfwood could see the immediate look of shock on your face, the realization dawning on you. You could feel your breathing picking up and your heart rate was starting to go through the roof - why did Eriks sound so much like Vash? Hadn't you suffered enough? To lose Vash once was agony. But to be reminded of him now? It was unbearable.

"Woah, (Y/N), woah, calm down, breathe. You need to breath."

You could hear Wolfwood's words, but you couldn't understand them, couldn't process them. You were bordering on a full-blown panic attack. The world suddenly became quieter, all sounds muted, as though you were underwater. You couldn't process anything else going on around you right now. All you could do was stumble to your feet and run to the hole in the wall of the saloon, your eyes landing on the blonde man who reminded you so much of the love of your life.

You didn't really understand what was happening - you could vaguely hear the tones and timbre of Eriks' voice and the voice of the bandit, but you couldn't make out the words. You watched as Eriks bowed to the bandit all the way to the ground, trying to apologize on Lina's behalf and diffuse the situation, but it apparently hadn't been enough.

The bandit yelled something at Eriks, to which he apparently agreed. To your surprise, you watched as Eriks suddenly... began to take off his clothes?

"W-What?" You mumbled, not understanding what was happening. All you could make out was the sound of Lina crying next to you, and Wolfwood comforting her as Eriks defended her, even at the cost of his pride.

When you looked back at Eriks, you suddenly felt as though you had been hit by a truck.

Those scars... that body... the missing arm replaced with a prosthetic...

All you heard before the ground came up to meet you and the world went black around you was the sound of Wolfwood exclaiming your name - "(Y/N)!".

You don't know how long you'd been unconscious for, but when you found yourself waking up, you didn't recognize your surroundings. You were in a rather large room, laying on what could've only been a hospital bed, right next to a large window. There were no other beds or patients in the room with you - it was just you. And-

"Morning, sweetheart."

You jumped, turning to see Wolfwood sitting at your bedside, a smirk on his face as his cigarette dangled between his lips crookedly.

"W-Wolfwood," You spoke, your voice strained, "W-What-?"

"You dropped like a stone," Wolfwood explained, standing from his chair and walking over to sit right next to you on your bed, "You saw Eriks' scars and I guess the realization of who he was was just too much for you to handle. Can't say I'm surprised, it's not every day you learn that supposedly dead love of your life isn't actually dead."

Wolfwood just grinned at you, but you just sat there, unmoving, eyes staring forward like you were a statue, not really seeing whatever you were looking at. The memories of what had preceded your passing out came back to you in flashes, and before Wolfwood could continue speaking, you were suddenly sobbing as you had never sobbed before.

All the pain, the sadness, the grief, the loneliness, the feeling of having part of you missing for so long overwhelmed you, making you feel every bit of emotion you had been repressing over the past two years. You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, crying your eyes out as you buried your face into your knees, unable to comprehend what was happening. Surely you were dead, or dreaming, because there was no way that Vash was really alive.

Unless...

"I'll leave you be," You heard Wolfwood say gruffly, before he stood up, patting your back and leaving you alone to confront your emotions.

After that, Wolfwood walked over to another patient's room - that of Eriks, or rather, Vash the Stampede. He had already spoken to Vash earlier, telling him about the fact that Millions Knives was still at large, but now... this was going to be a very different conversation.

Wolfwood didn't even bother knocking, just letting himself right into Vash's room, walking over to where the blonde young man sat in his bed.

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't straight up kill (Y/N)," Wolfwood started, a small smirk on his face as he sat next to Vash, who was just watching him carefully. He watched Vash's expression become one of concern the moment your name left Wolfwood's lips.

"What do you mean?" Vash asked, eyebrows furrowing at Wolfwood's statement - the last Vash saw of you was when he stopped you from taking on the bandit yourself, and you were fine, then.

Wolfwood sighed, "(Y/N) saw your scars, Stampede. It was too much for them to handle and they passed out cold. Smacked their head pretty bad on the way down, but that was my bad, I didn't expect them to go down."

"What?!" Vash exclaimed, his blue eyes widening in worry. He immediately began to try to get out of his bed, but Wolfwood stopped him.

"(Y/N)'s spent the last two years grieving you, Vash. They believed you were dead. This is a bigger shock than you know. They heard nothing from you and the last thing they saw of you was when July city imploded on itself."

Vash's eyes somehow managed to widen even more, and tears were beginning to well in them as Wolfwood explained the situation to him. Wolfwood told him everything he knew - about how you'd essentially become a living statue, not truly living beyond basic existence, about how broken you'd become, how closed-off and sad you were now. You'd been changed so badly that neither Vash nor Wolfwood were really sure if you'd ever rebound from this.

By the time Wolfwood was done explaining, Vash found himself crying silently, his heart torn to pieces at the thought of what this had done to you.

"They loved you more than anything, Vash," Wolfwood stated quietly, standing up as he went to take his leave for the second time that day, "I think you owe them an explanation and a very big apology."

With that, Wolfwood left Vash to his own thoughts, just as he had done to you earlier.

Vash sat there, just replaying everything Wolfwood had told him in his mind. He was telling the truth, Vash knew - he had seen the look on your face when he initially saw you as Eriks. Vash had been so taken aback by you when he took a good look at your face - you looked so much like yourself, but simultaneously so different.

Your face had new scars, and lines engraved in your skin from frowning and worrying rather than from smiling, as you used to in the past. Your expression was tired and somewhat empty, even as you greeted him, and your tone was dull and serious. And your eyes...

Tears began to course down Vash's cheeks freely, soft sobs escaping from his throat as pain jolted through him as he recalled your eyes.

Your eyes were utterly lifeless. Like you had died in every way except physically.

Vash had had to restrain himself from gasping loudly, sobbing his heart out and begging you for forgiveness when he'd looked at you for the first time in two years. He had wanted nothing more than to pull you into his embrace as he used to do before July then and there, but when you failed to recognize him, Vash knew that he couldn't do that to you.

'There's no way they still love me now,' Vash thought to himself, his pain intensifying and his cries becoming louder as he sobbed into his hands, 'I've destroyed them, too.'

You were the love of Vash's life. Nobody ever meant more to him than you did, and after the destruction of July city... Vash couldn't face you. He was a murderer, while you were innocent, pure, and good. He couldn't bring himself to look for you, or try to reach out to you, because he had wanted to keep you safe. Especially now that his bounty was 60 billion double dollars and everybody was hunting for him.

But when he saw you in that saloon... and he saw how damaged you'd become... he realized that he'd done had been wrong. So, so wrong. You'd loved him all that time, to the point where his supposed death broke you beyond repair, and it was all Vash's fault. In trying to protect you, he'd been the one to hurt you worse than anybody ever had before.

And now, he had to find the strength to face you. But how could he?

"Your gun! Give me your gun, hurry!"

Vash suddenly heard the frantic, panicked voice of Lina's grandmother, Grandma Sheryl, coming from downstairs. He focused in, wiping the tears off his face as he listened.

"It's Lina, they got her!"

The arguing continued, and Vash knew what he had to do then. Once he'd rescued Lina, he'd talk to you. He'd face you, and finally pay for his mistake.

As Vash dressed and exited his room, he found Wolfwood standing there, leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his lips once more.

"They got (Y/N), too, it seems like," Wolfwood stated, looking surprisingly calm despite having to deliver terrible news, "Guess they thought (Y/N) was a worthy hostage."

Vash's eyes widened, and his gaze hardened slightly, his heart twisting hard in his chest at the thought of you in danger - despite the two years that had passed, Vash still loved you more than anything in his life, and he still sought to protect you. He had thought of you every day, wondering where you were, what you were up to, if you'd missed him...

He had to rescue you and Lina as soon as possible.

With his teeth gritted and his gun holstered, Vash headed out with Wolfwood trailing in his wake.

"Then, let's go get them."

Wolfwood just smirked.

"There's the Stampede I used to know."

#anya's athenaeum #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun stampede x reader #trigun x reader #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #eriks!vash #trigun eriks #eriks x reader

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thatdeadaquarius · 9 months

Note

Hallo! You know who is someone I don’t see many people appreciating? Ganyu! Imagine a neurodivergent creator reader who is the one that finds her when she’s going through one of her crises when she doesn’t know if she belongs with the humans or Adepti and reader can understand her because that’s how they feel as well about life?? And about their old world and sometimes this one??

I feel that they could potentially bond over that and maybe even realize Ganyu is also somewhat neurodivergent in some way?? Or she’s very socially inept in some ways and reader can relate and share in those worries so the two just sometimes sit together shoulder to shoulder and just not say anything and just relax and everyone is confused??? Anyways that’s all for me, keep up the great work! :D

-Bonk anon

GOD, NEURODIVERGENT ASKS, JUST HAVE MY WHOLE HEART IN YOUR HANDS 😭😭🤲🤲💙💙

JUST TAKE IT I DONT NEED IT-

ALSO LESSER ASKED FOR/LESS POPULAR CHARACTERS??

SIGN ME TF UP-

Ahhh, look at her... I would die for her, kill for her... either way, what bliss ✨️

also fuCK mihoyo, she’s fat and beautiful and so thats how she gonna be written. 😤

saw this in my mailbox forever ago and as i was workng thru them, was just like, “damn that Ganyu ask is so close im so excited to write abt her <33”

☆

Sun: Neurodivergent!Reader, Gender Neutral (they/them)

Orbit: tiny scenario +headcanons

Stars: Ganyu, my dearest.

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: talk of low self-esteem & Trigger Warnings: talk of low self-esteem, neurodivergent struggles, talk of missing meals (ganyu wants to schedule out her lunch-breaks).

when you’d initially explained to the (actually scarily strong irl) genshin characters who’d been claiming all kinds of wild stuff about you (”The Last Descender! The World Player!”)

you’d been in Liyue at the time, and out of everyone, the first you could see believed you were a mortal on Earth before (and not ruling it 💀) was Ganyu.

She’d looked shocked, like the others, but you could quickly see her get more and mire visibly twitchy and excited as you explained further

(rlly unlike the just,, utter confusion on Xiao’s, Zhongli’s, Shenhe’s, and Cloud Retainer’s faces, so convinced of your divinity there’s no way you could be human- even just acting like one-)

but you did, and Ganyu loved it.

you actually didn’t interact much for the first month you were stuck in a gacha video game (the other alloegenes, gods, adepti, and citizens, including international, pulling you around for opinions on this and that)

But one night you couldn’t sleep (the Qixing provided amble spacious housing in a temple already apparently dedicated to you, one you’d never seen in game)

It’d been… a rough day.

Everywhere you went, miscommunications followed, and you still didn’t really know how to mask properly around these just- well, since they were real, aliens

sure, they mimicked stuff about humans, but not the people/culture you’d mostly been around, (and the adepti had their own code of behavior, which was so complex you’re sure they should’ve made an actual social behavior manual by now)

but you just couldn’t escape the endless cycle, not only that, but your executive function had apparently forgotten to keep up with some important appointments or otherwise things you had needed to get done earlier, so you were scrambling to send a late letter to Fontaine inventors who needed to get the project started in 3 days, which is how long the letter takes to get there, oh gods, and you needed to check on Inazuma, apparently Seirai island is getting lightningy again and the Raiden Shogun wants you in person as soon as possible to aid her with it, but you need to attend a Knights of Favonius meeting in 2 days-

Yeah. You were stressed, and honestly? crumbling under the pressure.

So you’d snuck out of your rooms (dodging the patrolling guards) and went to the office of the one person who knew who’d understand

Ganyu. Scribbling and mumbling in her office to herself, late into the night

She’d jumped at you slipping in without knocking (avoid the Milieth at all costs, even tho ur literally god and you’ve been told you can do whatever you want mostly)

and knocked a whooooollleee stack of papers to the floor, scattering it everywhere 😭

you’d scrambled to start picking them up,, but then she stops you frantically saying “No, no, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal I promise, there’s no need to cry over these silly papers, heaven-sent!”

what??

oh.

oh no.

it’d just been one more thing you’d messed up on top of all of today (and tbh this whole month whirlwind of becoming some kind of god of the continent)

and Ganyu was, Ganyu <3

she was sweet and kind and so overwhelmingly helpful, how could you make a mess of her life too-

“Emperor? Huangdi?”

you’re just sitting on the floor now, but you startle when she gently holds your upper arms, calling your name very softly, so soft if she wasn’t saying you actual name you’d think she was talking to something else, something precious to her

the qilin guides you up, easily supporting your weight, she directs you to her couch, and manuvers you into laying your head across her plush thighs, the half-adepti’s pants aren’t as skin-tight like in-game, they’re actually the cosiest fabric you’ve ever laid on (or maybe that’s just a combination of your fragileness and her thick thighs)

she rubs your shoulder and back, offering a tissue (when did she get that-)

and that’s when you know you’ve chosen your first friend in Teyvat perfectly :)

◇

you sneak out nearly every night for those first few months in Liyue (not including travel, which you tried to limit or you’d both make an excuse why she needed to come with lol)

just to sneak into her office, and you’d nearly cried a second time on her when she offered some notes about both standard human and adepti behaviors (after all, she’s had to study them both to fit into both)

Ganyu learns to do your hair and you do hers 🥺 she can’t bring herself to trust anyone to cut her hair but you, and you always try to do styles that don’t get in her way <3

like buns with a braid wrapped around it, or two space buns (Keqing didn’t say anything but Ganyu gossiped to you about how she could see a little smile on her face whenever she ran into Ganyu that week, obviously cutely thinking how they matched)

While of course the first thing Ganyu did was propose to help you schedule/manage your time so you wouldn’t have to rely on your non-existent executive function-

you’d also made sure to literally plop ur chin over her shoulder to make sure you saw “break” AT LEAST once a day, now that she was incorporating herself a little into ur schedule too (Ganyu fought tooth and nail to get rid of that lunch-break, but then you threatened to also not eat, and she caved so fast LMAO)

(bc she’s a die-hard workaholic ofc she wants this, after you heard abt her schedule in-game you’d thought it was lucky she was not fully human or she would’ve dropped dead, but now even moreso watching that horror in real time 💀)

which!! she!! is so!! (at this point you usually just squeeze her round cheeks a little too hard before then wrapping your arms as far as they can go around her torso and squeezing even harder-)

After a couple of “your trauma 🤝 my trauma” nights, she honestly understood really well where your limits were so to speak, what you could and simply couldn’t do

and was the first one willing to explain to people you have executive dysfunction (and was quick to cut off any “just try harder/pull yourself up by your bootstraps/just believe in yourself” nonsense when if came to your disabilities, even tho those were few and far between moments if any)

afterall, people had expected the same from her, and she frequently fell into that thinking herself (it also didn’t help that as you tried to give her a normal schedule at first, which benefitted her human side more, it felt like the Qixing was stumbling to keep up with the supernatural workload now being distributed)

Ganyu knew it had been your influence originally that helped her when she’d had her workload lightened/then followed by the traveler when she ran off

(and regardless of the truth too, when you’d finally gotten the courage to tell her how you actually interacted with Teyvat, unable to steer actions from what the plot dictated)

she’d still attributed it to you, (”well, you could’ve always just picked up your things and left, yes? But even if it was ‘pre-planned’ like you say, you still wanted to follow through and were… ahem, h-happy for m-me, right?” you’d smacked right into her you stimmed so relieved)

You didn’t exactly know how to explain it, bc everyone was really accepting,

from citizens to nobles, officials and guards, to vision-users, gods and other supernatural beings that inhabited Teyvat

no one judged you for unmasking/stimming, but in that way that meant they didn’t really understand what was different about you, they just knew you were and they’d still decided to treat you with the same adoration anyway

but Ganyu,

she treated you the same but knew what stims you did when you were happy or excited, what ones comforted you, what your latest verbal stims were, and what your “classics” were (u never had to tell her, she just learned them quick and all on her own, bless this woman 🛐 )

Ganyu understood all the good and all the bad and saw you unmasked and still laughed so hard at your jokes she fell into your side and always asked another question about your hyperfixations/interests

you’d quickly realized there were a lot of neurodivergent overlaps between stuff Ganyu did and what you did

(whether or not she herself was, you just assumed yes based on what you researched, but there wasn’t any official testing in teyvat)

it makes more sense to you after applying the neurospicy filter to all her actions why she’s so obsessed with work (she hyperfixates on certain projects the Qixing has going, and has a long-term passive fixation on scheduling/stationary/related office work stuff)

but this also meant you understood why she was always asking for more about you, your mortal world, your time here, where you wanted to go in teyvat, what you wanted to do, how’d you feel when the game did this to someone, what about-?

needless to say you couldn’t (and didn’t have to 🥲) contain your stims at knowing you became a slight hyperfixation for her

she got all embarassed and blushy about it!!! <333😩 (and did that cute thing where she just kinda sways in place holding her hands together when bashful or nervous ✨💔✨)

unrelated to above, but your favorite thing (besides sightseeing or eating at yet another new restaurant in liyue) to do together is go do something childish

like playing children’s games (hopscotch, or hill sliding in ganyus case) from both ur childhoods

u thought itd be a good idea to get Ganyu to relax a little more and have more fun outside her job!

(again, unrelated bc idk im scattered with these headcanons, the cryo user loves when you help her pick new outfits at stores not bc she wants to impress u what)

ok last unrelated headcanon i promise,

Ganyu wasn’t overly affectionate before, honestly she was always going too fast to stop for those kind of casual touches (and when was there time in her old scedule)

but after a month of getting comfortable around each other, she subconciously gets up from her desk (mid-reading a file/carrying it with her lmao)

and sits on her office couch, making room for you to lay on her (and she is the perfect pillow)

(you dont point it out, you know she’ll get too embarassed, and you refuse to lose Ganyu cuddles <3)

☆

im so glad im not the only one who took one look at Ganyu’s problems in life and was like, “damn im neurospicy, ur so right, blue-frosty-magical-half-deer-secretary-woman”

btw it’s on the masterlist “turn on the background music?” but here’s really long playlist I made for sagau stuff!

mostly game music but also other fun songs i hope fit, mostly based of my blog so it’s not dark (as the other playlists under SAGAU search on spotify looked dark too lmao)

Safe Travels Bonk Anon,

💀♒

I mentioned making a kofi before, but I think I’ll start including it in posts too if u guys dont mind!

An iced coffee? For me?? :O

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

#tis slow going over here at deadaqua.com #i wanna write a bunch then post it all at once #idc if that makes me a menace #i am free #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #my asks #ganyu x reader #sagau ganyu #self aware genshin au #gender neutral reader #genshin impact sagau #could be platonic but i implied romantic #but ill tag anyway #sagau platonic #genshin x reader

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erosuguru · 10 months

Text

My Sister’s Best Friend Is a Total Smokeshow(?!)

MINORS+AGELESS BLOGS DNI, Hyoma Chigiri X Reader, all characters are 18+, Reader is chigiri’s older sister’s best friend, Reader is female, middle school chigiri mentioned a few times but no focus on it, theres not enough info on chigiri’s sister, 2k words

CW: NSFW, penetration, creampie, chigiri and reader fuck in chigiri’s childhood bedroom, tiddy sucking, clothed sex, no proof reading

Notes: no words shawty I wanna go to bed and read and play video games and write like theres so many things I wanna do and all I end up doing is sleeping aLSO I ACCIDENTALLY GOT LUOCHA WHILE TRYING TO BUILD PITY FOR BLADE WTHHHHH I WASNT EVEN GUARANTEED

The first time Chigiri saw you was when he was in middle school, he came home and heard chatter coming from his sister’s room, curiosity got the best of him although he still had the decency to knock first.

“Oh! Hyoma, Welcome home! (Name), this is my little brother.” His sister introduced, you were sitting next to her on her bed more upright as she was more relaxed, you smiled and nodded in acknowledgment to him.

“It’s good to meet you! Your sister’s told me a lot about you!” Maybe it was the hormones that came with his age but the younger Chigiri thought you were really pretty, his body followed orders like a robot to seem natural in front of you; he returned the nod, introduced himself and quickly excused himself, apologizing and closing the door to give his sister and you your privacy.

When you left, his sister waved bye to you at the front door and he stood behind her quietly before he let out a surprised noise when you waved bye to him as well, his sister wrote it off as puberty and that he would’ve acted like this towards any older girl. Immediately after she shut the door he bombarded her with questions: “what did you guys talk about?” “What did you tell her about me?”

After he calmed down, he found out that your family actually recently moved into the neighborhood and you met both his mother and his sister when you came by to introduce yourself, when he wasn’t home.

Slowly, as Chigiri grew older and as you visited more often, he would become more comfortable with you although there was a line he couldn’t cross due to the age gap (you being his sister’s age) and certain unspoken rules relating to siblings and friends:

1. Chigiri is only allowed to know surface level information about you

2. Chigiri was not allowed to befriend you on the same level as his sibling’s

3. If Chigiri wanted to gift you something, he’d have to do it through his sister

4. Chigiri was utterly positively definitely absolutely completely NOT ALLOWED to romance you in any way, shape or form.

He knew his sister wouldn’t have minded him getting chummy with you but he had a nagging feeling that it would still be awkward, the rules seemed extreme to outsiders however in his mind he knew that he needed to keep to these rules to avoid hostility, awkwardness or misunderstandings.

It was enough you were the center interest during Chigiri’s ‘girl-crazy’ phase, even as he grew out of it he found himself still thinking of nights where he thought of you in a romantic light.

Slowly Chigiri had forgotten about you during his time at Blue Lock’s institution, he focused on bettering himself in all aspects to achieve his dream, although deep down he couldn’t help but indulge in the nagging feeling that he wanted to see you again.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Life was going great after blue lock, with all his football achievements Chigiri barely had time to visit his family between tours although he made sure to stay in contact any way he could; letters, texting, sending gifts, long video calls.

As his career progressed Chigiri developed a certain talent for planning, the calendar app became one of his most frequented apps on his phone and he would sometimes write down potential dates he could use to go visit his family on any surface available be it a napkin, scrap paper and even the back of a receipt.

Finally all his rapid planning paid off, he managed to get two free weeks all to himself (one of those two weeks were labeled under ‘rest - doctor’s orders’).

An excited giddy feeling filled Chigiri’s chest as his taxi neared his home, the familiar scenery invoking a sense of nostalgia as the car slowed and arrived at his destination, his family’s house.

He bid the driver goodbye and paid his expenses, approaching the door he was a bit unsure of how to go about his return, should he knock on the door? Ring the doorbell? Was he allowed to barge in? He knew his mother kept a spare key under the mat. He settled for ringing the doorbell and he didn’t have to wait long until the door swung open, and his dear sister greeted him with a bone crushing hug.

“Hyoma!! Mom! Hyoma’s here!!” he could hear his mother yell out ‘Hyoma’s here?!’ and he returned the hug to the best of his abilities, patting her back with a strained hand.

“Good to see you too, sis...! could you let go...?” She let go and finally allowed him to breathe properly, frowning a bit she dragged him inside “we don’t see you for months and now you don’t want to hug your big sister anymore?” she teased, Chigiri rolled his eyes at his sister’s drama as he hugged his mother, she happily welcomed him home.

He noticed from the corner of his eye someone else was here, a figure in the kitchen.

“Hey (Name)! guess who decided to pay us a visit too!”

His heart throbbed in his chest, theres no way she meant…? No, its probably a different person with your name! you’re probably busy with your own responsibilities somewhere else

“Hyoma..? oh, welcome home! I wouldn’t have visited if I knew you were coming!” he saw you move out the kitchen and attempt to reach for your coat, his sister stopped you and led you over to him.

“oh hush, if anything it was probably fate! Hyoma, you remember (Name), right?”

For a moment, he forgot he was supposed to answer, he stuttered and tried mustering the smoothest answer he could “How could I forget? You and sis are always together!”

A flustered laugh escaped you and he had to mentally smack himself to focus and not turn into a smitten maiden, just as everyone else in the house gave him a ‘welcome home’ hug, he accepted yours (after his sister insisted that you two were well beyond a handshake.)

Chigiri was certain he would be fine if he saw you again now that he was older and more mature of his feelings, yet as he stood in his family’s home, in front of you, he felt like he was transported back in time turning into that shy teenager who wanted your attention more than anything else.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Guilt wracked Chigiri’s entire being, one moment he was showing you around his childhood bedroom when you made a casual comment about never seeing it, the moment he offered he wanted to throw himself out the nearest window in embarrassment.

Yet a small part of him was ecstatic he offered, otherwise his tongue wouldn’t be in your mouth right now as he muffled your noises caused by his wandering hands, Chigiri felt disgusted with his behavior; making out with his sister’s best friend as his family was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

Everytime you tried speaking through kisses, he would either smother your lips with another or he would cut you off by admitting how much he desired you, the perverted thoughts that plagued him once now resurfacing.

“Hyoma-“

“you’re so pretty like this, y’know?” his voice came out in a hushed whisper wanting no one but you to hear him, “I’ve always had feelings for you.” It felt so good to say it to you.

Your body responded to his advances, squirming or moaning into his kisses as quietly as you could, Chigiri slide his hand beneath your shirt sliding upwards until it reached your breasts, his fingers pinched at your nipples and prodded at the soft flesh squeezing as if trying to memorize the shape of your body in his hands.

“you’re driving me crazy.” He mumbled desperately after separating from a particularly wet kiss, a thin string of saliva connected your lips before splitting and disappearing “Can I fuck you? Please? I promise I’ll be quick..”

His question made you more flustered than you already were, you always knew Chigiri as your best friend’s shy and reserved brother, hearing him say such vulgarities felt foreign to your ears. Yet you found yourself hesitantly nodding “Okay.. but we have to be quiet..!”

Pinning you down to his bed he shoved your shirt above your chest to give him easy access, Chigiri rolled up your long skirt running his hands over the skin of your legs and thighs enjoying the way you shivered under his touch.

He knew you two needed to be quick so he couldn’t be bothered to remove your panties, only pulling them aside and giving a few testing strokes to your wet slit. He felt his cock throb as your arousal coated his fingers, he kissed you once more as you held back a moan.

“so wet, this is all for me, yeah?” he whispered harshly and chuckled as you tried catching your breath from his sudden boldness, hurriedly undoing his pants he couldn’t help but sigh in relief as he pulled his cock out of its confinement. Quickly positioning himself and pushing in he covered your mouth the moment he saw your lips part, he only let out a short hiss and bit down his bottom lip as to not groan loudly at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in.

The combination of his precum and your arousal allowed him to push in easily, he grunted as he bottomed out inside you, if only he this wasn’t such a risky place for him to fuck you he would have praised you for taking him so well.

Chigiri leaned down and kissed you deeply once more as he moved his hips back and forth in short quick thrusts, he set a goal to fuck you as good as he could with as minimal noise as possible, as much as he wanted to hear you scream his name he had to settle for the wet smacking his tongue would produce with yours as he kissed you deeply.

The idea made his cock jump in excitement, you moaning his name, not his family name, he only ever had the pleasure of you calling him by his first name if his sister was around as to not induce any confusion.

You always called out to him so innocently, always a simple lovely ‘Hyoma!’, what he wouldn’t give to hear you moan it like a desperate little slut.

He panted between kisses as he sped up his pace, feeling your heat hug him so deliciously, he could feel you tightening. Lowering his head to your breast he sucked harshly at one of your nipples producing a noise, he would have worried if he wasn’t lost in the pleasure of you running a hand through his hair and locking your legs around his waist, Chigiri could practically feel his brain short circuiting over how blissed out he felt fucking you.

As you tried recovering from the incoming oversensitivity, Chigiri nuzzled into your chest as he thrusted as deep as he could muffling his moans into your torso as he felt your pussy practically coax him into finishing inside, a shiver racked through him as he stilled his hips and grunted loudly feeling his cum fill you, warmth spreading deep inside you and he mentally cursed himself as he felt a few drops leak out.

“Hyoma.. you came lots..” he heard you whisper between pants, looking up at your flushed face he practically felt his heart shoot up to his throat, you looked so cute it was making him want to ditch dinner and give you a hotel keycard.

“Yeah… sorry..” and yet he didn’t move, he kept his cock nestled deep inside you even as he heard knocking at his closed door.

“Hyoma? (Name)? Dinner’s ready! What’re you two doing?”

“… just showing (Name) some of my old trading cards! We’ll be right there!” Chigiri quickly excused as he sat up, he had to hold back the smile on his face after seeing the look of embarrassment on yours.

With a groan, Chigiri’s sister left not wanting to hear more about the same cards her brother had been ranting to her about for years. Just as you sat up and made yourself decent, you felt him lean over you once more planting one last kiss on your lips.

“You called me ‘Hyoma’ that time..”

rule 4 of Chigiri's 'How to Interact With Your Sibling's Best Friend' manual™ was definitely broken.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk x female reader #blue lock x female reader #chigiri hyoma x you #chigiri hyoma x reader #hyoma chigiri x you #hyoma chigiri x reader

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eijirousbestie · 1 year

Note

YOUR ART MAJOR STORY WAS FIRE!! IM AN ART MAJOR AND WE HAD TO DO DETAILED PORTRAITS THIS MORNING AS AN ACTIVITY OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS AND ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WAS YOUR STORY 😭😭😭😭 anyway i had the vision of Y/N doing a portrait of bakugou for her class ❤️❤️❤️❤️

AHH THANK YOU SM hearing someone thought abt my story in their day to day life is actually insane so thank you for reading!! Love to see a fellow art major around here🤝🏽I hope this story is to your liking i tried my best😭<33

“Can I draw you?”

this is kinda long (I got too into it lol)

pulling at the heartstrings a bit here

he’s a willing participant???

unorganized dishes

golden hour

* * *

Being an art student had its perks. For one thing you didn’t have “real” homework like other classes and you could spend majority of your time creating something new. In other cases, being an art student was dreadful, and today proved that to be true.

Walking into class and setting your bag down, you sit at your easel and scroll on your phone as your professor waits for other students to trickle in before he takes attendance. The sound of a chair scooting can be heard as your professor makes his presence known and calls role. He finishes and places his clipboard down, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm.

“Good morning guys! First things first, I just wanted to say you all did a great job at critique this past Tuesday. I was very impressed with the outcome of all your pieces. Now for those of you who have checked the class schedule, you’ll know we have our Portrait 1 assignment due at the end of next week. I’ll give further instructions and we’ll go ahead and get started on those today.” He grabs a stack of papers, assuming to be said detailed instructions for your next assignment. As soon as he hands you a copy, you skim through the premise of what you’re going to be doing.

Portrait 1 Assignment

1. Pick a subject you will be referencing to for your portrait. (No you cannot use a reference online. It has to be someone you can poke).

2. Arrange a time outside of class to meet with your subject to begin your sketch.

3. Pick a feature of your subject to enhance in your final drawing. You can add color, darken line weight or distort the feature you chose, but the rest of the portrait should be in the style of a sketch.

This drawing should be done on an 18x24 sheet of paper from your sketchbook and no smaller.

You internally cringe at the thought of having to snatch someone from campus to sit with you for hours just so you can draw them. You instantly begin to think of people you know who you can draw. You take your phone out and begin typing up a message to a friend of yours, asking when they’re free. Much to your dismay, they inform you that they have work directly after class all this week and won’t be able to help. You understand, but now you’ve got yourself stuck and you absolutely refuse to ask a stranger. For the remainder of the period, all you can do is mindlessly write a list of names and the pros and cons of their potential availability.

* * *

Sitting in the living room after getting back to the dorms, you rest after having no success trying to recruit anyone to be your reference. The dorms are practically empty as everyone is out doing something. Working, training, shopping. Everything you don’t do. Essentially losing hope for the day, you resort to lounging on the couch. Cozy pajamas nearly lulling you to sleep. However before you can slip into the best nap of your life, clanging from the kitchen startles you awake. Whispered curses soon follow, ultimately giving away who caused the noise. Getting up from your oh so comfy spot, you make your way to the kitchen to investigate. Peeking a head in the doorway, you see a rather frazzled Bakugou picking up pots and pans that had fallen to the floor.

Looking at his bent form, you speak up. “You aight?” He picks up the last pot and places it on the counter before responding, fully facing you.

“I’m good. My bad if I woke you.” You give a shrug and lean your hip on the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest.

“Nah you’re fine. Wasn’t fully knocked out anyway. What were you doing in here?”

“Reorganizing. For whatever reason, idiots around here can’t understand that stacking dishes causes shit to fall. Just proved my point too.” His eyes fall on the various pans on the counter he was in the process of arranging. You give a chuckle and move to help put them away.

“Say it louder for the people in the back.”

“Yeah well apparently they ‘don’t respond well to yelling.’ Whatever the fuck that means.” He nags as you both place each dish in their respective places.

“Gotta give em a glare or side eye to get the message across,” you joke.

“Shit only goes so far. But if looks could kill everybody here would be on their deathbed.”

“Jesus man, gruesome much?” You let out a heartier chuckle, actually entertained by his empty threats.

“S’called being self-aware.” He leans against the now empty counter and folds his arms across his chest. A silly thought crosses your mind. A glimpse of hope even. You decide to pursue it.

“Speaking of looks,” you start off tentatively, “I could really use yours if you’ll let me.”

He gives you a half-curious look, left eyebrow slightly raised as he side eyes you. “The hell’s that mean?”

You’re not sure whether it’s the desperation talking or the fact that you’re half asleep, but you immediately hit him with your dilemma.

“Well… can I draw you?” It seems like minutes that go by before he responds with a sharp click of his tongue.

“Lay off the drugs huh? Shit’s got you talkin outta your ass.”

“Bakugou please! I need a reference for an assignment and I’d really appreciate if you’d let me draw you. It won’t take long I swear I’m fast!” Your hands are clasped together as you ask for his cooperation.

“The hell’d you wanna draw me for? Plenty other people you could ask.”

You don’t have it in your heart to mention nobody else was available to help you. It’d be like blatantly telling him he was the last option and you don’t want to potentially upset him by saying that. It’s not necessarily true either, you just didn’t think he would be up for it in the first place so you didn’t want to bother him. He was your saving grace really, never the last option.

“Well you’ve got great eyes. And perfect eyebrows too. So it’s kinda hard not to want to draw you. But seriously, if you’ll let me, I’ll do my very best to capture the best parts of you. Please?” If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you saw his hands clutch the counter in a death grip. He’s quiet for a moment. Two moments. Then he shakes his head in disbelief and his eyes sweep to look at anything else but you.

“Fine. Just don’t make me look like shit got me?” A light look of embarrassment covers his face. It’s endearing.

“I promise.” You smile a wide grin, relief relaxing your shoulders. “You mind if we get started tonight? I’m kinda behind as it is.”

He gives a nod and a hum in response. You tell him to stay put as you grab your sketchbook. He takes a seat on the couch and watches the slow sunset. It’s golden hour and the living room is filled with warm oranges and yellows as the sun is close to calling it a day. You come back, supplies in hand and before you can put your things down, you catch Bakugou as he gazes out of the window, the setting sun casting onto his face. With his hand propped under his chin, he looks ethereal. His red eyes now a vermilion as the rays reflect on them. It highlights his jawline, casting shadows that make the edges prominent. His hair aglow in the light, tufts of blonde now appearing marigold. You don’t realize how silly you must look staring at him until his eyes flicker to your frozen form. His gravelly voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Got your stuff?” He doesn’t move from his spot as he asks. You gather your bearings and nod.

“Yeah uh I got everything I need. We can start now if you’re ready?” You walk over to the couch where he sits, setting up your easel right in front of him.

“Mmh go ahead. Is there a certain way you wanna do this or?”

“No no what you’re doing now is fine. It’s actually better if you’re comfortable. We might be here a while, but let me know when you need a break.” He gives a nod of approval and you’re off, hands sketching and eyes darting back and forth between easel and subject. Soft scratching noises from graphite on paper filled the silence. By this point you were detailing the features of his hand holding up his face. Neat nail beds and cleanly trimmed. Bruised and scarred knuckles from countless hours of training. A strong neck that connected to an even stronger jaw, probably chiseled by the gods themselves.

You’d be lying to yourself if you thought drawing him would be a chore. It was actually enjoyable. There was no need for trivial conversation. Just you sitting there, drawing him as he let you. Him trusting you to capture his very being with only a pencil. It was a beautiful experience and you couldn’t be more grateful that you both were a part of it.

#bakugou headcanons #bakugou katsuki #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #mha drabbles #katsuki bakugo imagine

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