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turtletaubwrites · 7 days

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Numbers Game ~ Part 19

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 3885

Ao3 Link

Summary: You reveal your secret.

Author's Note: Thank you soo much for all of the support and encouragement, especially with the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one! 😭💜🙏🏼 (BIG DRAMA & EMOTIONS WARNING)

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Vaginal Fingering, PIV Sex, Hair-Pulling, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

“Can I have a drink?”

Four powerful pirates blinked at you.

It was strange to be on this side of the coffee table. Buggy sat in your spot on the couch between the other leaders of the Guild, while Shanks had pulled up a chair beside Crocodile.

Your green, velvet chair felt like an examination table. Like you were under a microscope, about to get chopped into tiny pieces to be studied.

Buggy had clung to you all morning, barely going a moment without touching you during breakfast. You were grateful he hadn’t tried to feed you any fruit. That thought sent your eyes flicking toward the red haired pirate, more bile climbing up your throat. Buggy’s floating hand rested on yours while they all stared, but you couldn’t get yourself to hold onto it.

“What would you like to–”

“I’ll get it,” you jumped up, cutting Mihawk off, and leaving Buggy’s hand to float alone when you pushed it away to stand. The little bar felt like miles away, and you grabbed the first thing you could see. Crocodile’s stinky scotch in its pretty crystal bottle. You poured a heaping glass, vaguely hearing a reaction from the couch before you chugged the burning liquor.

“What the fuck, baby?”

“Y/N, stop!”

“Don’t— rabbit!”

The three of them surrounded you, snagging the bottle and empty glass from your hands too late while you coughed from that toxic, liquid fire. Crocodile got to you first, kneeling out from the sand at your feet to grab your flushed face, wiping away the stinging tears that you knew wouldn’t be the last.

“Sweetheart, why–”

“Sweetheart,” you choked out, the sound a mix between a laugh and a sob. “Gods, I’m sorry, I– fuck.”

The looks on their faces made you want to scream. You rubbed your eyes with the meat of your palms, trying to be less fucking pathetic.

“Drink, love,” Mihawk soothed, holding a glass of water to your lips.

“We’re right here, star,” Buggy whispered as he pressed a light kiss to your shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

“It’s okay,” Crocodile promised, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re our Numbers Girl, no matter what. Alright?”

Your body slumped, nodding as you let them guide you back under that microscope. Shanks was staring at you, but nothing meant anything anymore, so you didn’t bother to study his face.

They let you sit there. Time was empty. It could have been minutes or years before you finally mustered up the energy to ruin everything.

“I’m fucking stupid,” you announced with a sharp laugh, feeling insane.

Maybe I am. Maybe he did put me away.

“Don’t talk like tha–”

“What do you mean, sweet girl?”

“You.”

Growling at your scarred lover, confessions, and a suicidal accusation flowed through your body, spilling out through your eyes and lips.

“You were going to kill us if I wasn’t useful. I could have been free, but I… I called those people for you.”

Crocodile’s face was as cold and unmoving as stone, a cliff you could leap off of.

If only you could have stopped. No one said a word, but the energy was already rolling through you, destroying everything, your throat still raw from that fucking scotch.

“I was an idiot. I was fucking kidding myself thinking I could wait, thinking I could have a few more days.” Your manic laughter turned to pain, a sob hitting your last words.

Glancing up at the couch, you saw your three men clenching their jaws. Crocodile’s arm was wrapped around Buggy, that large hand digging into Mihawk’s shoulder, while Mihawk had grabbed Buggy’s floating hand, gripping it in his own lap before it could fly to you.

“There’s no way I could hide it. Someone at the party will say it…”

“Say what,” Buggy rasped after a long moment.

Your eyes poured over your men one more time before it was over.

“My name.”

Everyone paused, and you remembered Shanks was there. His face was a mask, unreadable, and you were grateful for another reason to ignore it.

“Are you saying that your name is a lie,” Crocodile asked in a dangerous purr.

“No. None of you ever asked what my last name was,” you pointed out, then laughed as you looked between them. “I guess pirates don’t really care about last names.”

The laughter died in your throat, tears streaming now in your moment of defeat.

“What’s your name,” Mihawk asked, his voice more gentle than you’d ever heard.

It’s over.

“Y/N Sylvad.”

…

“Like the wood company?”

You clamped your hands over your mouth, the shock of laughter that burst through you at Buggy’s confused face, his cute question, almost had you believing it would be alright.

But the other men in the room shifted. Crocodile pulled his arm away from the other two to rest his elbows on his knees, leaning toward you while he answered his clown.

“Not a company. A fucking empire. Sylvad’s Lumber and Shipping. Is that what you’re telling us right now?”

“Yes,” you breathed, already watching their eyes change. Already watching them forget who you were.

“Keep going,” he ordered, his words cold, ice building up around you.

“It’s not mine,” you begged them to believe you. “Dad died and…”

You couldn’t. You didn’t know where to start, or if it even mattered now.

“Arbo Sylvad was your dad,” Shanks murmured, sitting up a little straighter while he studied you.

“You’re Sylvad’s heiress.”

“No, I'm not,” you snapped at Mihawk, not caring when his golden eyes flared at you. “Uncle Cedrick got everything. Dad always said it would go to… I was fifteen when he…”

Crocodile’s silver eyes were like molten metal, and you choked on your grief as you watched him stand. He walked to that giant desk of his, and when he returned to drop your thick notebook in your lap, you flinched, bracing for pain.

“Unreliable,” he growled, tapping the notebook with his hook as he brought his eyes down to yours, his frightening face so close.

“Everything I said was true,” you pleaded, mind blanking out with fear while Mihawk came to touch Crocodile’s shoulder. He didn’t budge, and though your mouth went dry, you forced yourself to explain. “Those people are unreliable! They'd talk to people that could cause problems for the Guild. People with connections to the Marine’s.”

“Like your Uncle?”

“What do you mean, boss,” Buggy tried to redirect, his hand on the hook that was digging into the back of the chair, his body leaning against the larger man’s shoulder. “They just sell trees and stuff, right?”

“Every single Marine ship on the fucking water right now was built with Sylvad wood,” Crocodile fumed, Mihawk’s hand stroking along his arm as you shrank beneath those silver eyes. “Hells, almost every ship that sails out of Water 7 is built with that lumber.”

“I don’t get it,” Shanks complained from his chair, though you couldn’t see him past the angry man in front of you. “If you’re the heiress of Sylvad’s, why were you working? You were an accountant or something, right?”

“Investment banker,” Buggy bragged, and you almost smiled that he remembered. “My girl’s a fancy financial advisor.”

“Let’s give our girl some breathing room, Crocodile. We don’t know everything yet.”

You only heard Mihawk’s whispered words because Crocodile was a hair's breadth away. He brought his thumb to rub along one of your cheeks, and the back of his hook to smooth along the other.

“Tell daddy everything, alright, sweetheart?”

Your eyes fluttered shut until he pressed into your cheeks, slow tears falling from your eyes when you nodded for him.

“Yes, daddy.”

The warm kiss he pressed to your temple made you want to disappear. Nothing. Nothing ever again.

You were barely there as the words fell from your lips. Eyes unfocused, hanging loosely around the little table by Mihawk’s seat. You smiled to yourself when you realized it looked strange without a glass of wine on it.

“Dad died on a business trip. Freak storm. Left everything to Uncle Cedrick. Kat and I got our trust funds for school. Mom got nothing.”

“I think we’ll need more than that, little rabbit,” Mihawk cautioned as he glanced over at Crocodile's stern face.

“Can I have a drink fir–”

“No,” said the three men on the couch.

Holding your head in your hands for a bit, you tried to figure out how to say the least amount of painful words to get them to leave you alone.

“Uncle took us in. He was such a caring person, taking in his brother’s poor daughters, his lonely wife,” you spat, venom dripping from your lips. “I didn’t want to belong to him. My trust fund paid for the best education out there, but all my friends stopped… When they knew I had nothing to give them, they treated me like shit. I kept doing what I'm good at, and I got the fuck out. Went to go live that stupid, boring life.”

Growling with the frustration of spilling this pathetic, entitled trash, you stood to pace behind your chair, waving your notebook around as if you could make it burst into flames with your will alone.

“I am fucking amazing at my job, but most of these people just looove the thought of the poor little heiress helping them get richer. Most of them can’t wait to put me in their little collection. Add me to their fucking shelf. Just gotta ask Uncle how much his little niece– FUCK!”

The notebook went flying, skidding across the floor while you shoved the heavy chair over, yelling, raging, kicking that stupid green chair until your shoes fell off, your toes fucking hurt, until your clown stopped you.

“Baby, please,” he soothed, his upper body floating to keep your struggling form from reaching anything on the ground to hit. “It’s okay, star, I’m right here. Fuck those assholes, right? Who needs ‘em!”

Part of you felt guilty for not laughing at his sweet attempt, but the rest of you needed to fight or flee.

Flee from these powerful men that were already using you to make money.

“Put me down!”

Buggy’s whispered, “star,” hurt like hell. You held yourself still when he set you down gently, back in your spot as you faced the couch again, although your chair was kicked off to the side.

“Wanna know how high to set the ransom,” you challenged, your clenched fists shaking at your sides. You couldn’t think clearly enough to read their darkened eyes, even Buggy’s as he took his place between them. “Just so you know, Uncle doesn’t like me that much. He’d probably be happier if you killed me. Or you could buy me, that’d make him extra hap–”

Sand.

Sand flooded the space around you. It lifted you off the ground, and your breath caught as the coffee table got thrown to the side. You met those silver eyes just before you were in his arms, your legs stretched across the laps of the other men on the couch.

“What…” you wondered, mind in a daze.

“You thought I’d sell my sweet girl,” Crocodile hummed, kissing the top off your head.

“You told me you would,” you reminded, your body and mind feeling distant, separate from whatever this strange world had become. “How much am I worth? Just keep being valuable, useful? You were already gonna sell me or kill me before you knew what a goldmine I was.”

The icy anger that laced your words made every hand on you go still. Crocodile froze as he started to rock you, and your body couldn’t choose between guilt at hurting them, or anger and fear at what they would do.

“I think I’m drunk,” you whispered, wanting them to let you go, and wishing that they never would.

“No shit,” Buggy laughed, “I’m surprised you’re alive after that.”

His hands started massaging your legs on his lap, rubbing up and down nervously while you closed your eyes.

“Can I go lie down?”

“I’ll take you, star.”

Crocodile and Mihawk’s hands dragged along your skin as Buggy lifted you into the air, but neither stopped him from taking you. Neither stopped him from floating you away.

Neither called you pretty names as you left the room.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

“I’ve got you,” Buggy promised.

Getting her onto that giant bed felt like a race. Something was right behind him. Something would stop him.

Something would take her away again.

Finally there, he wrapped his arms around her, leaning against the headboard while her scotch scented breath warmed his chest.

“Your breath stinks, baby.”

Maybe it was a laugh, but that choked sound made his chest tight, like a huge hand was crushing his ribcage.

I can’t do anything. Fucking useless. Can’t help her.

“Buggy…”

“Shh, I’m right here, star,” he promised. The sound of his name on those quivering lips sent fire, rage, and guilt straight through him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He could never leave her. He could never leave her with them after this. Even if they…

Buggy kissed her temple, trying to be soothing while he waited for them to crash through the door.

Waited for them to take her from him.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Not a sound.

Not a sound filled the air as the men in the lounge sat with the news that their little lover was the heiress of Sylvad’s.

Not a sound from the two men on the couch as her accusations weighed on them, as though she hadn’t left their laps with those angry, frightened tears in her eyes.

“That sure is something,” Shanks whistled softly. He stood to pick up Y/N’s chair, sitting across from them. “What are you gonna do with—“

“Find somewhere else to be,” Crocodile fumed, his body vibrating with the need to hurt something.

Shanks nodded, giving a crooked smile, before leaving them alone. Mihawk stared after his old friend, images of comfort he couldn’t provide burning behind his eyes.

He’s going to take them both.

Serves us right.

Crocodile’s angry huff pulled Mihawk out of those thoughts, watching the man stomp toward the bar. The coffee table his sand had moved laid in his path, until it splintered and scattered from the touch of his vicious foot in that lovely shoe.

The swordsman floated after him, still in a daze while the larger man imitated their girl, chugging a glass of scotch.

Mihawk stared, but didn’t speak, didn’t touch.

Crocodile set the glass down before he shattered another one.

“She lied—“

“Can you blame her,” Mihawk laughed coldly while the other man paced. Silver eyes shot like daggers, but Mihawk couldn’t seem to care about anything at the moment. “She told the truth, just not all—“

“She didn’t trust me.”

He sat again, staring at the floor after those stupid words had left him.

“I don’t…” Mihawk started, pushing himself to move, pushing himself to try. He sat down, and touched a hand to Crocodile’s shoulder, leaving it there after his scarred lover flinched. “We haven’t given her much reason to, have we?”

Not a sound after that.

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Y/N! You can’t just leave,” Kat reasoned, pulling the clothes out of your hands before you could stuff them into your suitcase. “What about mom? What about the company?”

“Mom made her choices,” you growled, pulling the clothes back from your sister’s shaky hands. “And I don’t care about the fucking company. It’s not mine.”

“Not if—“

“It’s not mine. I’m sick of this fucking life. I’m getting out.”

“... What about me?”

That stopped you. But only for a moment.

“I’m sure he’d let you come if—“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now,” she shouted, pushing you toward your messy suitcases. “He’s a pirate! If he doesn’t hurt you before, what do you think he’ll do when he finds out who you are?”

“I don’t care,” you fumed as you stared your little sister down. “I'm bored of this stupid life.”

Kat’s mouth hung open, the hurt and pain in her eyes making you want to take it all back, to beg for forgiveness.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t waste this chance to be free.

“You really have a death wish, you know that? That clown is going to get you killed,” Kat breathed, her voice growing colder as she turned to leave. She didn’t look back when she said her goodbye, just waved her hand over her shoulder. “I’ll look out for the ransom note.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Sleep?

Sleep.

Burning sleep, and stormy seas.

Dad’s voice calling for you.

You could never find him before the ship went under, before all that Sylvad wood splintered beneath the raging waves.

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

“Buzz off, idiot,” Buggy ordered in a harsh whisper, Shanks’ smiling face peeking through the cracked door. Buggy had left his body on the bed to hold Y/N as she whimpered, nightmares ruining her scotch and stress induced nap.

His head floated by the door, frowning at his old friend.

“It’ll just be a second, Bugs, I swear.”

Shanks’ smile stretched even wider when Buggy agreed, floating his head out into the corridor.

“This better be good, asshat.”

Shanks felt it. This was it. He could have them both.

He needed them both.

“Let’s take her with us, Bugs.”

Buggy’s look of shock was exaggerated by those red lips of his, and Shanks had to hold himself back from kissing them.

“But she… but it’s dangerous…”

Buggy wasn’t sure he’d actually heard those words, or if he’d fallen asleep, dreaming beside his star. Too many emotions rushed through him, but all he could think about was her.

“Would you rather leave her here with them,” Shanks rasped, his eyes doing that heavy thing they do, although there wasn’t much of Buggy’s body to drag them down. “We can protect her. You and me, Bugs.”

The clown had to fight his body to stay still as he held her in the other room. The need to move, to fidget, to pace, made him dizzy.

“What if she doesn’t wanna go,” Buggy wondered. Images of Y/N smiling, laughing, screaming, flew through his mind, each one making him doubt that he could ever make her as happy as she’d seemed once things had started to settle here.

“I already asked her. I know she’ll say yes. She wants you to be happy, Bugs. Just like I do,” Shanks confessed, brushing a bit of blue hair out of Buggy’s face. He rubbed his thumb across those red, parted lips.

So close to everything.

“When did—“

“Buggy?”

Shanks watched his clown fly away from him, hopeful that it’d be the last time.

Buggy flew away from his old friend, every confusing thought going blank besides the need to comfort that soft, scared voice.

“Right here, got you, baby.”

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

“Buggy,” you whimpered as new tears fell.

“Shh, you’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Painted lips covered your face, kissing your tears away until you shivered, his soothing hum blocking out everything else.

His touch kept it all at bay.

Every split second of memory was grief, so you curled against him, running your hand along his side. Your body writhed, whining for him as he stroked your hair and back, then pulled away.

“Hey, star, it’s o—“

“Please, touch me, Buggy,” you begged as you reached for him. “I need you so much, I need you…”

Pathetic grief poured back in at the memory of what you’d witnessed last night, but you couldn’t fight your need for him.

“Please, touch me.”

“Just tell me if it’s alright, okay, star," he breathed after pausing to study your face, tracing his fingers along your cheeks.

“Please,” you gasped, his lips on your neck were saving your life. Saving you from your mind.

A touch against Mihawk’s tender bite mark brought the world back, but then Buggy was tearing you both out of your clothes, kissing down your arms, your chest, your stomach. Kissing every inch of your skin until you were crying with need instead of pain.

Begging, begging for more.

“Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll take care of you, star.”

“Bug—“

Breathy, desperate moans left your throat as his fingers plunged deep inside you, and he swallowed the rest of your sounds in a wild kiss. His tongue was eating, tasting, and you almost laughed into his mouth at the memory of scotch, until his free hand found your clit.

The fingers inside you were perfect, knowing exactly what you needed. Finding that spot, giving you steady touches that built in pressure and speed until you were clenching around his fingers, body shaking with pleasure and gratitude.

“So beautiful,” Buggy praised, his voice full of a quiet awe as he smiled down at you. “You okay, baby?”

“Fuck me, Buggy,” you pleaded as your weak arms failed to pull him closer. “I need you inside me. Need to feel you.”

His eyes were wide, concerned, but he smiled when he kissed you.

Smiled when he gave you everything you needed.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

How?

How can she be real?

How can she want me this much?

Want me after everything…

Buggy pushed those thoughts aside as he smoothed his ungloved hands down her body.

Hands that he felt safe letting her touch. Just like his bare face that he could let her see.

He let out his own soft, needy noise as he watched her writhe and squirm, begging for him to touch her.

“Fuck,” he hissed, just the touch of her perfect, dripping pussy against his sensitive tip was too much. Too much as he lined himself up.

“Look at me, Buggy,” Y/N cried out, her watery eyes swallowing him whole, just as he sank his cock deeper and deeper. He couldn’t hold in his moans at the pure fucking bliss that she held inside her, that she let him feel.

“Look at me, please.”

Buggy kept his eyes on hers, her request setting off alarm bells in his mind that he had to shut down, throw out.

She wants to look at me like this. She wants to see my face. There’s only one per—

“Buggy! I’m close, please,” she panicked, reaching up into his hair, pulling gently as her breathing went ragged. “Need to feel you, want you so bad.”

“I want you too, star, I’m right— oh gods, baby. Fuck, you feel soo good…”

Y/N screamed his name.

His name.

Over and over while he shoved his cock as far as he could go, claiming that sweet, warm pleasure she let him take.

Y/N pulled him in, her body made to take his come, made to milk him, to drain him, to let him fuck it back into her while she babbled, while her eyes crossed, while that cute little tongue hung out of her perfect lips.

All for him.

Still sunk deep inside her, Buggy soothed and calmed her frantic noises, kissing her temple.

“I love you so much. My shining star.”

What a feeling to say those words. What a feeling to mean them. To have someone to say them to.

“I love you, Buggy. I love you so much.”

What a feeling.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: I've been so nervous to add anything new to this world. I hope you don't mind some back story. And some Buggy time 😭😭😭

Part 20

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

117 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

AITA for telling someone to stop posting their takes?

🎶✨

to recognize if this ends up getting posted

To start, this is a fandom thing. I don't know the other person (a minor I will call G) personally, but I have seen her appear in my searches before. I typically avoid speaking to people like her because the things she say would cause drama.

Most of her posts were about how the female avatar was meant to be the canon one of the game and that the male avatar was never meant to exist. This is false. The game was not made with just female avatar in mind and many people had pointed it out to G, but she would deny it. It did not help that some people apparently supported her and would join her with the "you are all misogynist for wanting to deny the game was made for female avatar."

It isn't misogyny if we are stating facts. The concept art for when the game first started shows the male avatar was the first to have a design. female avatar was designed later.

I'll start with, I have nothing against female avatar.

But back to the main point. Since G would tag her posts about how much she hated that male avatar was created and was "stealing" female avatar's attention and potential ship partners, I got annoyed by all that and decided to dm her about it.

I told her something along the lines of "that kind of hate isn't welcomed in the fandom, but if you want to continue posting like that, you should keep it out of the tags." G responded by vaguely referencing the dms in a post and deleting it when she got backlash for it. She eventually ended up deleting her account after that.

My friends are saying I was an asshole for messaging G like that and getting a minor bullied off the internet. They also said that I should have just ignored it and that they felt pity for G and were going to show their support for her by only talking about female avatar and excluding talk about male avatar. I had said that if it was the opposite happening, people would be up in arms and that what G was doing should still be considered sexist. My friends said I was an asshole for saying that standing up for a woman in the light of having a man outshine her was sexist. Which wasn't what I had said at all?

I get that could have just blocked and ignore her, but I did not want other people who were fans of the male avatar to have to see hate about him. That was why I chose to dm G. I did not intend for her to get hate about it.

AITA for telling G to stop posting her takes in the tags?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #i need a tag for these ngl #they're their own genre of thing now #character selection scream

284 notes · View notes

purinfelix · 5 months

Text

by midnight ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⊹₊ ⋆

pairing: carlos sainz x reader summary: you find yourself at one of the hottest parties on campus, eager to land a kiss before New Year strikes to avoid bad luck warnings: none w/c: 2.3k

a/n: i can't believe this is my first proper carlos fic even tho he's my fav driver - also is this a uni au ?? college au ?? sort of idk ... anw hope you all enjoy this and i wish you all a happy new year !! <333

As you stood in the corner of the dimly lit room, with no company other than the half-empty glass of red wine you’d been cradling for the past hour, you were beginning to question what you were doing at this New Year’s Eve party in the first place.

Of course, your mind was quick to point to the obvious reason - you had come because your friend asked you to. Because she had burst into your dorm room about a week ago with a sparkle in her eye and an invite to a party hosted by what she referred to as ‘high profile university elites’, which you understood as ‘popular kids who were yet to realise they’d already peaked in high school’. Nonetheless, her eagerness and incessant begging had somehow convinced you to trail along with her to the party and the numerous shopping trips preceding it.

You had to admit, there was a tiny part of you that was excited about it. You enjoyed going out and the occasional dance session but after an extremely stressful university semester you weren’t sure you could handle any more chaos or drama. But it was something different, something interesting - something to look forward to in the break routine your life had become. Especially since your friend seemed very insistent on the possibility of you meeting some new “hot singles”, and whilst the dig at your uneventful love life didn’t go unnoticed you let it slip considering it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Maybe it was this possibility that had urged you to tag along with her, despite not knowing any of the hosts or people she had listed out. However, if it weren’t for her constant reassurance that she would be at your side the entire night, you probably wouldn’t be standing at the front door of whatever unlucky house had been chosen to host the event, so dressed up you felt a little silly. Your hands trembled slightly at your sides and you felt stupid at how nervous you were. But, as the door opened for you by a boy who looked like he had already had too much to drink from his crooked tie, you swallowed your nerves and reminded yourself that even if you knew no on else, you had your friend to lean on.

At least, until a mere hour had passed into the party and she was nowhere to be found. She had told you she was going to go introduce herself to some other people and that she’d be back to meet you in the corner where she had left you. And the last you saw of her she had been standing a little too close to a guy you vaguely recognised from one of your marketing lectures, and hand ultimately decided best to leave her to enjoy herself - even if that meant awkwardly taking up space, biding your time, and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Your friend had discussed at length, and much to your dismay, about how this wasn’t just any old New Year’s Eve party like one thrown at a frat house. Rather this was one organised by your university’s wealthiest, most popular, most talented students - which had been one of your biggest turn-offs from it initially. And as you leant against the corner of some vintage-looking wallpaper, you couldn’t help but observe the atmosphere that reeked of elitism, snobbery and daughter laughter. People around you chattered away without cares in the world, donning clothes that surely came from stores you weren’t wealthy enough to know of. Others danced in the centre of the dimly lit room, some moving with elegance and others waved their arms around, drunk on a mixture of whatever expensive bottles their peers had brought.

But, to your surprise, there was something - or rather someone - that managed to catch your eyes from the other side of the room. It was what seemed like the only other person not involved in some sort of conversation, dance circle, or the lips of whatever partner they had brought. And it seemed he had noticed you too by the way his deep brown eyes had locked onto yours, even in the shadowy lighting from where he sat on the cough. He was handsome, there was certainly no denying it, especially not when the eye contact and the slight quirk of his lips alone were enough to make your heart rate quicken. You took a shaky sip from your glass, watching as he ran a large hand through his dark hair that was styled in a way you could only describe as ‘princely’, the gold cufflinks on his shirt sleeve flashing as he did.

He’s way out of your league and your tax bracket, you remind yourself. But there’s something about the way this handsome stranger is looking at you that makes you feel compelled to him. Almost like he’s cast an invisible string around your waist and is slowly pulling you towards him. A grandfather clock in the corner tells you there’s less than half an hour until midnight and the strike of New Year’s, and until you can get out of here without missing too much. Half an hour to work up the courage to go up to him, talk to him, to do anything other than stand her paralysed under his intense, yet insanely attractive, gaze.

Your feet unstick themselves and go to take a step in his direction, until your friend appears suddenly around the corner, her hand already on your wrist. She’s talking to you about some people you “just have to meet”, half dragging you with her to the kitchen. But your eyes are still stuck on him, and he watches you go with an expression that’s equal parts amused and disappointed that your charged staring competition didn’t last longer.

You find yourself in a circle with three other people, forcing a smile on your face and trying your best to act as if you care while your friend introduces you to them. One’s an engineering major, the other in medicine, and the last you can’t even bother to remember, your brain busied with plans on how to get back to the lounge, and the handsome stranger. You nod incessantly as your new company drones on about final exams and papers, eager to have the conversation done with you.

“Well, seems like there’s not much time left until midnight,” one of them says, which catches your attention, and your friend laughs along.

“And you know what they say about a New Year’s kiss, hm?” she chimes in, “that failing to lock lips with anyone after the countdown will bring in a whole new year of loneliness!” She nudges your arm and you swallow the urge to make some excuse, settling on rolling your eyes with a resigned smile.

“You found the lucky guy yet?” the engineering major says, looking directly at you with a suggestive sort of look.

As if summoned by the question, you spot something out of the corner of your eye. A familiar tuft of dark hair snakes its way around the kitchen hallway - it’s him. Now that the two of you are standing you truly get a sense of how tall he is, and you can definitely see that the dark suit he’s wearing is doing his figure justice. He moves quickly, purposefully, as he pours himself another drink and is already making his way out of the kitchen. Though, not before looking back and shooting you a quick smile. The sight renders you incapable of speech and basic function, as you go to take a sip of your own drink and instead spill your glass’ remains onto your dress.

Your little circle erupts into groans and worried cries, your friend trying her best to laugh off the total fool you’ve made of yourself in front of them. Luckily though, it seems the handsome stranger didn’t stay long enough to witness your little accident, so you don’t mind too much as your friend ushers you off to one of the bathrooms, pushing past bodies that move along to the pulsing music. Your head throbs as your friend shoves you in and shuts the door behind her.

“I can’t believe you,” she sighs, grabbing handfuls of toilet paper and throwing them at you as you sit on the closed toilet seat, “that was so embarrassing, and you’ve completely ruined the dress we spent ages picking at.”

You clearly couldn’t care less as you dab at the large stain on your dress with indifference, as she paces back and forth and waves her hands around to express her frustration.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, they all seemed like assholes anyways,” you mutter. Your quip seems to calm her down as she takes a seat on the bathtub rim. She takes a moment to glance at her phone in her hand before letting out a tired sigh.

“And now there’s less than three minutes until midnight and neither of us is getting a New Year’s kiss.”

“There’s nothing keeping you in here with me, you know,” you say, a smile in your voice as you watch her expression turn hopeful.

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t really want to spend New Year’s Eve alone but I don’t want you to as well, I think I’ll manage.”

She lets out a squeal, pulling you in for a quick hug whilst being careful not to get any of the red wine you’ve spilled on your dress onto hers.

“I’ll meet you outside in half an hour,” is the last thing she says to you before turning and leaving the bathroom to rejoin the crowd that’s formed to count down the seconds until midnight. It’s almost funny that you’re alone once more, only now with a gigantic red stain and under the harsh white light of this lavishly decorated bathroom. Sitting back against the toilet, you close your eyes and try your best to enjoy this moment of peace, and ignore the fact that this may just signal another year of loneliness - as your friend mentioned. You can hear the partygoers outside getting ready, pulling out tiny confetti canons and ushering others into the lounge.

“10!”

“9!”

Suddenly, the door opens and you jerk up to scold your unwelcome intruder. That is until you notice it’s him, the handsome stranger. He looks equally surprised to see you until you realise he probably wasn’t expecting anyone to be sitting alone in the bathroom during the countdown to New Year’s. Your throat is dry but you still manage to croak out some form of a response.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, and you notice he’s almost panting. You gesture to the stain on your dress with an expression that says “duh”.

“Oh, right, well I just wanted to get away from all the chaos and loudness, you know.”

“8!” The crowd outside keeps going, and they seem to be getting louder.

“You didn’t find any lucky girl to kiss when midnight struck?” you say, trying your best to make light of how insanely awkward this interaction is. He rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his feet shyly.

“Well I did, she was standing in the corner of the room all alone,” he takes a couple of steps towards you and his voice is sheepishly quiet.

“7!”

“She sounds like a loner,” you retort and he lets out a dry laugh. You’re trying to play it cool and act as if you’re not dying to just kiss him already, because you know that’d be too forward, especially for someone like you at a party like this.

“Well, I thought she was beautiful, at least until she got dragged away by her friend.”

“6!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but then I saw her later in the kitchen talking to some guys and figured she’d be more interested in them.”

“5!”

“I’m sure they were boring,” you decide to play along with his game.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I’m sure she would’ve much rather been talking to you instead of them, and hearing her friend talk about how if she didn’t kiss someone by midnight she’d have to deal with another year of being single,” this catches his attention, his eyebrow quirking up alongside a smirk spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“4!”

“Yep, until she spilled a bunch of wine on this dress she bought and ended up in the bathroom trying to clean it off.”

“3!”

”Sounds unfortunate.” He’s towering over you now, looking down at you with a softness in his eyes and a playfulness in his tone.

“Extremely.”

“2!”

You finally find the strength to stand up too, and almost immediately his hand finds its way around a strand of your hair, twirling it absent-mindedly. It moves to your cheek, then your chin, which he cups softly so that he can look into your eyes properly. You feel on fire underneath his touch. At this distance, he’s breathtaking. His eyes are almost enchanting and you feel tiny underneath their gaze, swallowing a lump nervously. He watches you intently, eyes flickering between his own and your lips - it’s clear what he’s thinking.

“1!”

The crowd outside erupts into cheers and the popping of confetti canons, but you’ve forgotten about them immediately as his lips crash into yours with a passion you realise haven’t experienced in a while. It’s not forceful though, it’s too perfect to be anything else. His hands snake around your body and support you - almost lifting you up into him, and you let him, your body turned to jelly under his touch. All the night’s eye contact, the silent messaging, the tension, has been squeezed into this single kiss and it just about knocks you off of your feet. Finally though, your lips separate, and you feel so dazed you can hardly form words.

“Carlos,” he says heavily.

“Huh?” you mumble, mind still processing.

“My name, my name is Carlos.”

“Oh, right, Happy New Year Carlos.”

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #ferrari #formula one #carlos sainz fanfic #formula one fanfic #f1 #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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tsams-confessions · 4 months

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quite the fandom, isnt it?

dont forget your daily clicks

palestine masterpost

donate

good timezone and welcome to tsams confessions. have an opinion you dont want traced back to your account? frustrated and need a place to yell? just want to sit back and watch whatever drama of the week unfold without actually having to participate? this is the place for you. you can submit just about anything, but there's a few rules

we are no longer allowing people to be mentioned by name. there weren't any major incidents to spark this decision, but the three we got were just spreading rumors about the people in question and that's not what we want here

if you are mentioned/vagued in a post and would like it taken down, or if you sent your own confession and want it removed, please reach out off anon. it has to be the person themself that was involved, we will not take things down at the request of someone else

dont be a dick needlessly. i dont want to see shit like "x child's art sucks" thats not a confession thats just mean

Please don't discuss the solarmoon incest debate. Discussing the ship itself is allowed still

apparently this needs to be added. if we deem your confession to be racist/queerphobic/ableist/etc we will delete it 5a. apparently this also needs to be added. please stop calling characters psychopaths/sociopaths just because they do bad things. that alone will make me delete your confession 5b. please dont make light of the topic of genocide. talking about ruin and his mass killing is fine, just be mindful of her words

Do not censor yourself. This is not tiktok, there is no algorithm, all you are doing is making it difficult to read (or even impossible with a screenreader) and making it harder for people to avoid those topics as needed

just. try to use common sense

other than that, we'll post just about anything we receive even if we disagree with it. that doesnt mean we wont comment on it in the tags though, please keep in mind we are not pretending to be unbiased. we also are not a reliable source of information, do your own research

blog runs on queue, 12 posts from 12pm to 11pm est every day. will increase and decrease as needed

i will block anyone that makes me uncomfortable enough. no, it doesn't necessarily mean what you did was "wrong." i can block for any reason i please, and complaining about it to me is not going to change my mind. accept it and move on.

thats all for now. mod 1blood, signing off

#mod 1blood #not a confession #sun and moon show #tsams #what other tags do i use here #the sun and moon show #sams #i dont wanna put this in character tags. that should be fine for now

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mosaickiwi · 6 months

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Meowdy~

I'm Momo/Mosa c: either one

I like to write!!! Except it's just for 14DWY 99.999999% of the time sorry. I do write other things and make OCs/VNs for myself that I'll maybe post publicly one day in the future.

if u wanna support me here's a kofi link :3c

anyways ur here for some silly fics??? have a list ⬇⬇⬇

14 Days With You

Little "Love" Notes

14DWY as a Drama (AU)

Fall Unto Me (Demon!Ren AU) part one, part two, part three, part four

Everything and Anything (pls read cw tags)

Soft - Light

Hide and Seek

Illusion of Choice

"Bad" Gift Giver Angel (head canon list)

Nails, TV, Moving

Sick Nasty

Someone in Between, Something Intertwined

Masterlist of NSFW [REDACTED] fics and blurbs

These aren't posted publicly at the moment, so it's a WIP

REQUESTS: CLOSED!!

Feel free to send regular silly asks though. And if you want to get pinged when they're OPEN, ask or comment!!

Request Guidelines

~PLEASE READ~

While I currently don’t write smut for requests, 14 Days With You is intended for an 18+ audience, so please keep that in mind and have your age visible in your bio! If you prefer to be anon remember to send another letting me know it's you from your main account! <3

ALL REQUESTS ARE FOR 14DWY [REDACTED] AT THE MOMENT (i might do things for other games in the future but not for requests!!)

Please be clear and concise about what you want. A few sentences works great, but if you do want to paint a bigger picture, 70 words at most! <- This applies to the request itself not the entire message! Feel free to get silly in my asks otherwise.

Please don't direct me/give me a script! Gentle reminder that I am not a bot.

Additionally, since some requests might be similar in content I may combine or do only one of them if I receive them in the same batch.

With that said, please don’t rush me! I have other things I’m working on + irl c:

All fics are a gender neutral reader unless otherwise specified in the request through certain topics.

If any of these are unclear, ASK so I can clarify <3

Requests CAN be:

SFW, fluff, angst, comfort, implied/mentions of smut i.e. aftercare, roleplay before the action, ~vaguely~ alluding to school/college/etc., AUs as long as they aren’t someone else’s (unless the creator has stated to be okay with it)

Requests CANNOT be:

smut/explicit NSFW, cheating, self harm, gore, death, student life stuff (studying or something similar is fine just pls spare me from having to think about college/campus bullshit 😭)

Request List (please check to avoid repeats!)

Anxious, Clingy, Nervous Angel

Lazy Cuddle Day

Low Motivation Angel

Super Obsessed Angel

A Little Free Time

Touch Averse Angel

Wedding Day

Literal Domestic Fluff (Fox Ren)

A Sick Angel

A Riding Lesson

Your Actual First Kiss

#pinned post hehe #momo writing #<- my regular writing tag #momo reqs #<- my requested writing tag #momo art #<- MY ART TAG??? i mean i don't mention it in this post but it's 14dwy relevant #yes i am an artist for roughly 2% of the year lmfao

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humming-pokemon-helpers · 3 months

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//By the way, not ready to launch the full official masterpost yet, but... if you can tell from how I've been posting, I have a major 'story' arc planned very soon! Stakes will raise as the arc goes, the absolute peak being ultra but mostly at drama (early)/high (later). My current title for the arc is "A Vision in the Mirror"; current 'prelude' posts are being tagged with #vision prelude :)

//This is sort of a "gauging interest" post; if people are interested in participating in some way, whether with a major role that spurs their own character arcs forward or in some minor way, my DMs are open! (Or comments. Or reblogs. So on so forth.) Not starting seriously for a little bit yet, considering a planning server to bounce ideas in.

//To get the fun stuff out of the way first, this is a pretty flashy arc near the end! For anybody interested in participating, there's going to be stuff to do either battling or in situation/crisis management on a legendary scale. Or just posting about "what the fuck is that"! There's a lot of personal intrigue on the lead-up to it as well, which will be focused mostly around Vanilla and his friends, Colress, and what seems to be a mysterious doppelganger of Vanilla with unknown goals. (There's also plenty of chances to get involved in the lead-up!)

//This arc is also going to be focusing on some rather heavy topics, similar to the previous arc. Overall themes include regret and forgiveness, duty and choice, perfection and reality (which is my fancy way of avoiding saying 'truth and ideals'), and most concretely, Pokéballs and the ties between humans and Pokémon. (I feel pretentious now, saying all that.)

//Specific topics that are likely to come up and may be challenging along the way include depictions of anxiety, trauma, and suicidality, discussion of death (human and Pokémon), (non-graphic) injury and death, blackmailing/defamation, impersonation, and vague discussion around Pokémon abuse. Everything will be tagged appropriately, but those are the main ones that may be worth blocking the #a vision in the mirror tag might be useful for.

TL;DR: New arc soon! Looking for anybody interested in either smaller-scale character drama (say, being messed with by a strange Zorperson then having problems with Vanilla, in support later on, etc) or in larger-scale, "protect-the-region" style information gathering, fighting, planning, etc. Note the triggers and the themes, if either influence your interest!

#//ooc post #//this got long oops. lmk if something. doesn't make sense writing this late

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writingforstraykids · 5 months

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Addicted to you - Chp.10

Pairing: Minchan (mention of Changlix)

Word Count: 6309

Summary: The night Felix and Minho have shared raises questions amongst their friends and Minho feels pushed into a corner. Another fight with Chan escalates and Felix and Changbin step in. Minho and Chan try to work on their differences and get closer.

Warnings/Tags: emotional breakdown, panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort, mention of alcohol, mention of sleeping pills

A/N: Another bit of drama but we're getting there🤣~🌙

Chp.9 | Chp. 11

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together It's so awkward, we can't seem to do it better Can't we just fake a smile, put our shit to the side? Loved You Once - Clara Mae

The next morning everyone was already seated at the table as Minho made his way downstairs. He was wearing a loose shirt, not wanting them to notice that he lost weight and his hair messily fell around his face. His eyes looked a little swollen and his neck was covered in dark bitemarks.

Everyone stared at him as he made his way to the fridge and poured himself some juice. "What?" Minho snapped as they still remained silent.

"What the fuck happened?" Seungmin was the first one daring to speak up.

Minho blinked at him in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, your neck," Hyunjin said, vaguely gesturing at his own.

He sat down at the other end of the table and tried to ignore Chan's observant eyes resting on him. "Felix happened," he said.

Jisung choked on his drink. "What?!"

"Yes, I went back to what I started with. Any more stupid questions?" he asked.

"Why?" Jeongin asked confused, looking at Felix, who was gently shaking his head.

"Why?" Minho asked him and raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, sorry for asking," he rolled his eyes at him.

"This is hardly the place to discuss this," Felix said gently.

"Why would we even discuss that?" Minho asked and huffed as everyone avoided his eyes. "I can't believe you guys sometimes," he said firmly, getting up.

"Minho," Chan said warningly, sensing another breakdown.

"Everyone in this fucking house did that before, but when I do it, it's suddenly an issue?" he asked, ignoring Chan's utterly confused look and the nervous glances of their friends at him. "Why? Because my last lover was so sweet and supportive of me that I have no reason to?"

"Minho, let it be," Chan told him firmly. “This is between you and me; don’t take it out on the others.”

Minho slammed his glass back down at the table and glared at him. "You shut up. You're the whole reason this shit is happening. The only reason you took me was because I was the easier option since I was around the house already. Now stop acting like I'm the asshole just because I had sex with someone else for once."

"Oh, the way you panicked after it yesterday seemed like you surely enjoyed it," Chan said coldly, and Minho's face fell in betrayal.

"You..what?" Felix asked worriedly, and Minho glanced at him anxiously.

"You're such an asshole, I can't believe I fell for you," Minho said, staring at Chan with tears in his eyes.

"I have no idea why I wanted you so badly either," Chan fired back. "You're completely unstable."

"Seriously? You desperately kiss me and you begged me to talk to you about something else yesterday," he spat out, a tear running down his cheek as he desperately tried to save himself.

"Oh my fucking god, you guys. Go get a room, have some fucked up hate sex, and then move on," Jisung said and grabbed his plate, getting up and leaving.

"Don't start making this a routine when the rest of us are trying to eat," Changbin groaned softly.

Minho looked at Chan for another moment. "I quit."

"Minho hyung," Seungmin tried gently.

"No, you fucking don't, Minho. Go and sober up, I can smell the alcohol from here," Chan snapped at him, and everyone looked at him in shock.

"I’m not doing shit this week, just make something up. You're good at that," he spat out.

"You won't risk the reputation of the group just because we don't get along right now. Get yourself together! We have a fucking job to do!" Chan shouted and slammed his hand on the table, jumping up. Minho didn't know what got into him as he grabbed his glass and threw its contents right at his face. Chan stared at him in pure shock, juice dripping down from his curls onto his sweater.

"What is wrong with you?"

Jeongin quietly handed him a tissue and exchanged an awkward glance with Seungmin.

"Okay, that's enough," Felix said, grabbing Minho's wrist and pulling him. "Binnie, you take Chan."

"What the fuck?" Hyunjin said to no one in particular, wiping off a few drops of juice that had landed on his sweater.

"This is getting exhausting," Seungmin sighed agreeingly.

Minho stood as far away from Chan as possible as they brought them to the same room. Changbin pulled the door closed loudly. "What the hell?" he asked sharply. "Why the fuck would you talk about that during breakfast?"

"Why the fuck do I have to explain everything around here, and he doesn't?" Minho snapped right back at him.

"Why didn't you cover it up?" he asked.

"Because I didn't thinking about it, okay? I'm sorry that I can't think of everything," he groaned, frustrated. "I should've stayed upstairs in the first place."

"And why the fuck would you say those hurtful things to Minho again?!" Changbin asked Chan, clearly frustrated. "If you saw him panicking, that's between you and him, not for the whole table to discuss. Neither is pointing out that he had a little too much."

"I wasn't thinking," he huffed.

"Wow, that's a new thing," Minho pressed out.

"You're day drinking now?" Chan asked harshly.

"Why? Does it bother you? Great, I'll do it again tomorrow," he said angrily.

"Oh, for fucks sake- Shut up, both of you!" Felix snapped at them, and they all grew quiet. He didn't lose his temper often, so seeing him like this now prompted the silence. "Listen, you're both hurt and can't stand each other at the moment; we get that. But stop putting it on everyone and dragging us down with you. We're a team and need to trust each other to function."

"You can't keep on fighting in front of everyone else. This is your shit. If you need help, go see a couple therapist or some shit like that."

"We're not exactly a couple," Chan noted.

"That's the point they were trying to make," Minho nodded sourly. "It's actually not a bad idea when you think about it," he agreed.

"You're kidding," Chan laughed darkly.

"I'm not," Minho said firmly. "I'd have enough mental issues to talk about, and don't get me started on you."

"Nice one," he huffed.

"I mean it, you could use some yourself," Minho sighed. "But you didn't want to hear that the first time, I doubt you want it now."

"Damn right," Chan nodded and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Guys, this isn't working. We can't go on like that," Felix sighed.

"I want a break," Minho said firmly.

"No," Chan said just as firmly.

"Why?!" he asked, slowly losing his mind.

"There's no chance they'll let you take a break right now, you know there's tons of important stuff coming up," Chan reminded him.

"It's not like I'm contributing anything useful at the moment anyway," he said defensively. Minho slumped back against the window, his will to fight slowly crumbling. "Chan, I can't do this right now," he said tiredly. "Blame it on my injury. I don't care, but I can't go out there and pretend I'm okay," he told him, his eyes filling with fresh tears. He hated himself for being so damn emotional at the moment; it wasn’t like him to show that so openly all the time.

"Chan hyung, he's right. It just keeps on raising more questions," Changbin tried gently.

"You know I don't like to quit, you know I always push myself way beyond my limits for the group," Minho said shakily, searching Chan's eyes. "I'm not asking for much, give me a week. Chan, if you care about me even for the tiniest bit, help me out here. Please," he begged through tears.

"I said no," Chan said, hating himself for it. He knew there was no chance they'd allow him such a break. Not at the moment. Not without a profound reason, and having a fight with him wouldn't work for that. Watching Minho's eyes fill with betrayal, he knew he lost him. If there had been any hope left for them, he just destroyed it. Chan felt sick to the core, blinking back tears burning in his eyes.

Minho whimpered as if he had hit him, tears streaming down his face. He flinched away as Felix reached out for him to comfort him, and Changbin quickly took his hand, seeing the hurt that filled his boyfriend's face. "I'm sorry, Minho, I can't make that happen," Chan tried timidly.

"You're the worst," he pressed out.

"You're probably right about that," Chan nodded before leaving the room, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Changbin and Felix stood still for a moment. "You need some space?" Changbin asked, and Minho nodded, not even looking up.

Minho couldn't believe the shitshow his life had turned into within weeks. His friends hated him by now. He misplaced his trust once again in someone who hurt him in the end. His body was a wreck, his mental health even more. He noticed he had forgotten his phone and blindly stumbled down the stairs to get it.

Chan swallowed hard seeing him and stared down at the table, unable to watch how devastated he looked.

"Minho hyung?" Seungmin asked worriedly as Minho fumbled over his chair, searching for his phone. He was trembling, tears streaming down his face, and his body was shaking with heavy sobs he tried to hold back.

"I'm okay," Minho pressed out, finally finding his phone.

Chan closed his eyes, inhaling shakily at how broken he sounded. It felt like being punched in the face. A few hot tears slowly started to make their way down his cheeks, and he pressed his lips together tightly.

"Chan hyung?" Jeongin tried gently, placing his hand on his.

"Don't," he whispered, shaking his head. He didn't deserve their comfort one bit.

Jisung came back to return his plate, stopping in his tracks seeing them. "What the hell did I miss now?"

"Minho wants to take a break, but Chan can't help him because they wouldn't allow it," Felix summed it up.

"That's bullshit," Jisung shook his head, turning

toward Chan. "His injury would be reason enough."

Chan looked up, and everyone swallowed, seeing the tears on his cheeks, realizing it didn't leave him as cold as he pretended to. "I already tried, okay?" he asked, voice laced with emotions. "I asked them, not only once…I tried, kitten."

Minho flinched heavily and took a step back. "Don't call me that," he whispered pleadingly.

Chan swallowed hard. "Sorry."

"Why wouldn't they let him go on a break?" Changbin asked. "We've gone for lesser reasons."

"He's the main dancer, people love watching him tease the shit out of all of us, and he's a visual," Chan said, unable to look at Minho. "Not during promotions."

"It's always during promotions," Seungmin tried.

"I tried my best, okay?" Chan asked weakly. "I told them he's injured and unstable, but that didn't seem like it was enough."

Minho braced himself on the backrest of his chair, burying his face in his arms. "Channie, please," he whimpered.

Hyunjin got up at the same time as Chan did and stepped next to him, soothingly rubbing his back. "Minho, you don't have to do this alone, okay?" he asked softly.

"I can't keep up with it," he told them, backing away from Hyunjin, denying himself the comfort of his friends once more. "I'm not okay, guys," he whispered, grabbing the kitchen island to steady himself. "Please don't force me to pretend I am," he whimpered and sank down on the floor, leaning against the kitchen island, feeling a little dizzy.

Jeongin gave Chan a gentle push and nodded toward Minho. Chan anxiously glanced at his friends, and they all seemed to agree with him trying to comfort him. Hyunjin stepped aside to make room for him. Chan hesitantly crouched down and rested his hand on his shoulder. "Minnie, look at me," he said very softly. Minho looked up, pressing his lips together tightly as their eyes met.

Chan hesitated for a moment before cupping his face. "I didn't mean to start another fight, I've been an idiot, okay?"

"Okay," Minho whispered. "Me too."

"I swear to you, I tried to get you some time off," he continued.

"Why didn't you say so?" Minho asked shakily.

"I don't know," he said, chewing his lower lip. "I promise we'll figure this out," he told him, soothingly caressing his cheeks.

Minho reached up, grabbing his wrists, and for a moment, Chan thought he'd pull him away. But Minho smiled sadly, thumbs fondling over the back of his hands. "I fit right into them, right?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Chan laughed weakly, almost choking on his tears.

"In another life, we could've been perfect," Minho said quietly enough for only him to hear, remembering Felix's words of last night.

"Being perfect is completely overrated," he said, and Minho's lower lip quivered. "Come here," he said gently, and Minho gave in, burying his face in his chest. Chan held him close, soothingly rubbing his back as Minho held onto him tightly. His own tears dripped down into Minho's hair, and after a moment, he buried his face in it, hoping he wouldn't have to let go of him that quickly again. Minho held onto him as if his life depended on it.

Four days later

Felix sighed softly, pulling the door to Minho's room closed behind himself and making his way over to his own. Jisung would stay for tonight, and he himself felt like cuddling with his boyfriend for a bit.

Just as he reached his room, Chan stepped out of his own, meeting his eyes before signaling him to follow him. Felix bit back a groan but stepped into Chan's room. "How is he?" Chan asked quietly.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Felix answered tiredly.

"Seriously? He isn't exactly letting me close," he sighed.

"Yeah, who can blame him?" Felix mumbled, but Chan heard him contorting his face.

"I thought you were my little brother, Felix. Can't I even ask you something now without you being sassy?" he asked, getting frustrated.

"Minho's like a brother to me, too, you know? And you've been a complete dick to him," he said gently.

"Don't you think your relationship goes a little beyond that?" he asked, and Felix simply stared at him. "Is that why you're pissed? Because I took away your casual lover and only hurt him? Is that what you tried to undo a few nights ago?"

"You're so fucking dumb, Chan if you seriously think this is a jealousy issue," Felix told him. "We've been having fun, and yes, it has been amazing, but we've talked about what we were, you know? We were both fully aware that this was a friends-with-benefits situation since, deep down, his heart belonged to you, and I had a crush on Changbin."

"You…what?" Chan asked, confused.

"Wake up, Channie, you two weren't the only ones. Binnie and I have been in a relationship since the day Min and I ended our little agreement," he sighed softly. “All I did was try to help him forget, which Changbin was alright with.”

"So he knows?" he asked quietly.

"Everyone kinda knows," Felix told him.

"Everyone but me," he nodded sourly.

"We didn't exactly hide; we just didn't feel like kissing in front of you guys," he tried gently. “That’s why I got so upset that day. You think I’d cry like that because of a friend avoiding me?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders. “Wouldn’t be the first time, Felix; you’re a softie.”

“Wow, thanks,” Felix snorted. "So no, you didn't take away my casual lover, as you call it…but maybe that's the issue here," Felix nodded gently.

"If that's all you saw in him, it's no wonder you can look him in the eyes and say all that horrible stuff about him in front of your shared family."

"Careful, Felix," Chan said firmly.

"Why, Chan? It doesn't seem like Minho meant any more than one of your one-night stands," he shrugged. "You're right, he deserves better than that, and I'm praying he'll believe in that."

Chan stared at him, tears forming in his eyes. "Wow."

"I just don't get it, Channie. You've always wanted to call him yours, you longed for him to love you back. You had it all, and you ruined it by denying it, hurting him, pretending that having sex with him was just him using you…What the fuck, mate?" he asked quietly and squinted his eyes at him. "I don't know what's been going on in your head those past few weeks, but you need help, Chan. I'm saying this as your little brother, who loves you a lot."

"Fuck off," he shook his head and opened the door. "Seriously, move it."

"That only shows me I'm right," he shook his head sadly but did as he said. "I really hope you come back to us, I miss you."

Chan just shook his head and slammed his door closed. He sank against it and buried his face in his knees, tears spilling down his cheeks. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand, not wanting anyone to hear how hurt he was himself and how guilty he felt. Chan looked up, spotting the bottle of sleeping pills on his desk, and thought of the envelopes in the drawer beneath it. He got up and went over there, taking them out and spreading them on the table. The names of his six friends stared back at him, and he hesitantly took out the last, thicker envelope with Minho's name on it. He opened it up, and a few pictures poured from the envelope down onto the table. Chan picked up one of them, a weak laugh falling from his lips, seeing Minho and himself pulling a stupid grimace. There was another one of them kissing and another one where Minho looked at him behind the camera, full of love. Chan's thumb softly brushed over Minho's cheek, and hot tears shot to his eyes again. He really fucked that up. He had it all and ruined it.

Why did he always ruin everything? They’d seriously do better without him.

He reached for the bottle of pills and looked down at the table, breathing in shakily. Minho’s beautiful brown eyes stared right back at him. He could practically hear him, telling him to get help when he couldn’t deal with things on his own anymore. Telling him that he was loved, that he mattered, and that he’d always be there for him and…

Chan sucked in a sharp breath, scared of himself, before dropping the bottle and leaving his room. He felt like he couldn't properly breathe anymore, and before he knew it, he was in front of Minho's room, knocking hesitantly.

Jisung opened the door, and his eyes widened seeing him. He quickly stepped outside and closed the door. "Chan hyung?"

"Hannie, I can't -." He rubbed his chest as a sharp pain shot through it, and he gasped for air.

His face softened, realizing what was happening, and he gently squeezed Chan's hand. "Look at me," he told him, and Chan's panicked eyes met his. "Deep breaths, okay? I'll breathe with you," he told him and helped him find a proper rhythm. Chan focused on him and slowly felt his chest opening up again.

“Is Minho here, I really need to talk to him,” Chan asked timidly.

Jisung contorted his face. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” he said gently, feeling bad at the pained look on his friend’s face.

"Hannie, I'll be out for some - What the fuck?" Minho asked, stepping out of his room and seeing them.

Jisung glanced at Minho, wearing a jacket and holding his sneakers in his hand. "You'll be out for what?" he asked calmly.

"A walk," he said, not even looking at him. His eyes were stuck on Chan. "What do you want?" he asked.

"He had a panic attack," Jisung answered for him, still holding Chan's hands.

"Why?" Minho asked.

"You know there doesn't have to be a reason," Jisung sighed softly.

"Hannie, he's old enough to answer for himself," Minho told him. “Why, Chan?”

"I don't know," Chan said quietly.

"Huh," Minho nodded before dropping his shoes, pushing past them, and walking to Chan's room. Something told him Chan knew damn well what was wrong. He didn’t know what made him think he’d find a clue in his room, but who knew? Maybe he had already packed up his stuff.

"Minho, don't!" Chan called out for him, but Minho was faster, already in his room, as he reached the door.

In shock, Minho stared at Chan's desk, seeing the letters and the bottle of pills. He shakily picked up the envelope with his name on it and spotted the unseen pictures on the table. His heart hurt seeing them, and he turned to look at Chan standing in the doorway, seeming way smaller than he was. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"Minho," he tried.

"Just answer the damn question, Chan!" he snapped and frowned as Chan flinched heavily. That was new.

“I-I wanted to - I don’t know what I thought,” he stammered, and Minho frowned at him.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” Minho whispered, tightening his grip around the envelope.

“Just for a moment,” he said, starting to shake a little. "I got into a fight with Felix and felt like you’d all be better off without me," he said timidly and pulled at the sleeves of his sweater.

"A fight with Felix?" he frowned. It took a lot to make Felix mad.

"I'm an asshole, okay? I know that already. I don't need everyone to rub it in," Chan said, looking down as fresh tears filled his eyes.

Minho chewed on his lower lip nervously and looked back at all the letters. "What are those?"

“The letters you would’ve gotten after I quit,” he admitted.

Minho carefully picked up the bottle of pills. "Are you still thinking about that?" he asked, rubbing his neck tiredly. Chan only shook his head, pressing his lips closed as tears started spilling down his cheeks. "You promise?" he asked gently, unsure how to handle the situation. He didn't feel like comforting him, but acting like he didn't care didn't feel right either. Chan nodded but stayed quiet once more. "Are you...gonna be okay?"

"I don't know," Chan whispered helplessly. "I thought I was,” he added and wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweater. “I scared myself just now.”

He stared at him and couldn’t help but think that he looked like a sad kid who needed a hug right now. Minho closed his eyes defeatedly and nodded softly to himself. He couldn't leave him like this. Minho always hated seeing him cry; what he just admitted worried him. He gathered all the envelopes from the table and took Chan's pills as well. He walked past him, handing Jisung the pills and sending him off after a few whispered words. "You'll go ask Hannie from now on if you need some to sleep, alright?" he asked, and Chan nodded reluctantly. Minho chewed on his lip before giving himself a push and holding out his hand for him. "Come on."

Chan looked at him through tears in confusion but took his hand. The familiar but very missed feeling sent shivers through both their bodies. They both stared at their hands for a moment before their eyes met.

"You can stay here tonight," Minho offered hesitantly.

"Are you sure?" Chan asked quietly.

"I don't know..right now, I am," he said, gently pulling at his hand. "Now, come on before I change my mind." Chan followed him silently and picked up Minho's shoes for him, stepping into his room with him. Minho put the envelopes on his desk and took the shoes from him, removing his jacket again. "Sit down," he said, gesturing towards his bed. "You want some tea?"

"I'm fine," he shook his head.

"You don't look fine," Minho sighed.

"Then stop looking," Chan answered and pulled down the sleeves of his sweater.

"Channie," he said gently and rolled his eyes at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking up surprised as Minho wrapped a soft blanket around his shoulders.

Minho gently rubbed his shoulders and sighed softly. "You stay here, I'll make some lavender tea to help you calm down."

"Okay," he said quietly, swallowing at how close Minho was to him suddenly. "Min?"

"Yeah?"

"They're…they're not goodbye messages," Chan spoke up quietly.

"What?" he frowned softly.

"They're just stuff I wrote for each one of you in case one of you would feel bad or get into a fight with me," he told him. "I was thinking about giving Felix his."

"Oh," he nodded dumbly.

"But…yeah, I guess today I thought about them being just that," he admitted.

"Thank you for being honest with me," he nodded gently.

Minho went downstairs and stared out of the window as he waited for the water to cook. He rubbed his face tiredly and groaned softly, bracing himself on the kitchen counter as his stomach cramped. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't eaten anything all day. "Fucking hell," he sighed before putting their bags in the cups and pouring some water in.

"Can't sleep?" Changbin asked, strolling into the kitchen.

"Shouldn't I ask you the same?" Minho gave back, putting some honey into one cup and shoving a cookie into his mouth.

"Felix came over for cuddles. We're about to watch a movie, and he wants popcorn," he rolled his eyes fondly before glancing back at Minho. "Who's that second one for?" he asked curiously, knowing everyone should be in their room by now.

"Chan," Minho said after swallowing his snack, and Changbin looked surprised at him. "Apparently, he and Lixie had a fight or something…he had a panic attack."

"That's why he's so caught up in his thoughts," Changbin nodded gently. "And now you and Chan..?"

"He had some sort of goodbye letters and his pills on his desk. I didn't want to leave him alone," Minho admitted.

"And you're okay with being the one to be there for him tonight?" he asked caringly.

"Honestly, no idea," he told him with a weak smile.

"I'd do it, but I have Lix over."

"Don't worry about it, I'll be fine," he waved him off, and Changbin looked at him doubting. "I promise, go and enjoy some time with your boyfriend," he smiled bravely.

Changbin nodded slowly, grabbed the bag, and pulled him into a hug. "I hope you know we care about and love you a lot, Minho hyung."

Minho smiled sadly and patted his back gently. "Of course," he lied.

He watched him leave before stuffing the pack of cookies into his sweater pocket and removing the teabags. Minho grabbed their cups and went back upstairs, wincing softly as his knee protested with every step up the stairs. He pushed the door open and balanced the cups in one hand, trying to close it again. Some of the hot tea swapped over the edge of the cup and right onto his hand, making him curse and bite the back of his free hand to cancel the noise.

Chan got up worriedly and carefully eased the cups out of his hand, putting them aside. He automatically took Minho's hand and inspected the damage. "Come on, let's pour some cold water over it," he said, leading him to the adjoined bathroom.

Minho watched him silently as Chan held his hand beneath the water, thumb carefully brushing over the burnt skin. He swallowed hard as Chan applied some cooling cream, careful not to hurt him. Now, in the bright light of the bathroom, Minho saw how messed up Chan looked. His eyes were reddish and swollen, his curls framing his face completely untamed. He fought the urge to brush them back and tried not to pay too much attention to how good it felt to feel his skin against his.

"Told you I don't need tea," Chan joked lightheartedly.

"Fuck off," Minho gave back softly. "I was trying to be nice."

"I know," he assured him gently before letting go of his hand. "There you go."

"Thanks," he nodded before quickly leaving the bathroom again and grabbing himself a cup. Minho went over to his window and sat down on the pillows draped across the window sill. He leaned against the wall and stared outside into the night sky, trying to sort his thoughts. Chan got comfortable on his bed again, wrapping the blanket around himself and carefully blowing into his tea.

Minho took a sip before contorting his face. "Let's switch," he said, and Chan frowned at him. "I don't like honey in my tea, remember?"

"Oh," he nodded dumbly and handed Minho his cup. He stared down at the new cup in his hands, his heart warming at the thought of Minho remembering to add honey for him. They remained quiet for a while; Minho stared outside, and Chan tried to look everywhere but at him, which was hard because Minho looked beautiful with the moonlight dancing across his face, highlighting its finest features. It was moments like this when Chan realized how beautiful he was. "Uhm, about our recent interview-," he started, and Minho shook his head.

"No, I know. It was highly unprofessional to storm out like that, and it won't happen again. I'm sorry about what happened after they sent me back in, my brain wasn’t functioning," he apologized and rubbed his neck. “Believe me, I’ve got my fair share of scolding for it already.”

"What? I…no, no, that's not what I was trying to say," he shook his head, and Minho glanced at him. “Wait a minute, you got in trouble after that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he shook his head.

“Minho,” Chan said firmly, and Minho swallowed.

“They told me to get myself together or stay away from group interviews for a while. Apparently, I’m too quiet and look too depressed for the cameras,” he shrugged and chewed on his lower lip. “Bad for business or something like that. I didn’t really listen.” Another lie. He had memorized every word, taking it all in and making it his new reality. He was starting to see himself the way his haters did more with every day passing.

“I’m sorry, Min, I’ll talk to them,” Chan said, but Minho shook his head.

“Please don’t, it’ll make things only more complicated.”

"I was going to apologize. Given the circumstances, I should've known that saying you're the most important person in the group to me would upset you. I wasn't thinking."

Minho tilted his head softly. "You act like that's something new."

"Ouch. Fine, I deserve that," Chan nodded almost timidly.

Minho squinted his eyes at him. "You know there was a time you could take a joke."

Chan shortly raised his eyebrows. "There was a time you meant it as a joke."

Minho took a sip of his tea and watched him for a moment. "I was joking, Chan."

"Well, I wasn't," he gave back, and Minho's expression faltered. Insecurity flashed back into his eyes, and the grip around his cup tightened.

"Why would you say that?" he whispered.

"Say what?" Chan asked.

"Why would you say some bullshit like that in public and act so differently when the cameras are gone? How fucked up is that?" he asked.

Chan closed his eyes and shook his head. "Minho."

"What? You don't have an answer for that either?" he asked, getting offended.

"I was talking bullshit that night, and I'm sorry, okay? I don't know how often I'll have to tell you or the others that I'm sorry, but I'll do it if that means you can stand staying in the same room with me again," he burst out.

"I currently am, aren't I?" he huffed.

"I meant what I said during that interview; I was being honest. I should've known you'd get upset or angry or whatever, but I saw a chance to say something to you without you avoiding me," he explained tiredly. "Again, I'm sorry and-."

"Yeah, I got that," he said sourly. "You think sorry will fix things? It'll make me forget about what you said, how you portrayed our whole relationship in front of our friends. You think I'll forget what you said about me?" he asked, his voice growing shaky. "I trusted you with all my fears and deepest insecurities, and you smacked them right back in my face. You said I'm cold, I don't care about your feelings and-" his voice broke, tears shooting to his eyes, and he stopped himself, looking away from him. Minho stared outside, trying to blink away his tears and swallow down the lump forming in his throat. “You think it’ll make me forget how you asked if I enjoyed you telling me that I’m not all of those things? That I'm just some sassy asshole?” he asked shakily.

"I know I can't fix this by saying sorry, but I want you to know that I am," he said, getting emotional again. "I know I fucked up, and I probably won't be able to fix this. But please, if there's a way, let me know," he pleaded.

"You can't just undo the damage," he pressed out and sniffled.

"I know," he said defeatedly, big tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Just like I can't undo it by saying sorry for revealing how shitty you actually felt. That wasn't my decision to make, and still, I did it on purpose to hurt you back," he told him and sucked in a sharp breath. "It's my own fault you snapped at me after that, I know that. I just didn't think you'd go that far."

Chan messily wiped his cheeks with his sleeves, but new tears kept on making their way down his cheeks. "I was talking shit, and you reacted. That's okay."

"No, it's not, we both know that," Minho said, and Chan didn't know what to say since he was right.

But then..he wasn't okay with it. "No, it really isn't. I trusted you with that, and you decided that was the first thing to throw at me when I hurt you. You used my darkest moment to protect yourself," he said, pulling the blanket around himself more tightly. "You broke your promise and lost my trust."

"I know." Minho closed his eyes, hot tears dripping from his face. "And still, you hold me when I panic and come to me when you do. How does that make any sense?"

"I guess deep down I knew only you have truly seen that side of me, and you didn't fall apart because of it," he confessed and felt his heart break at Minho's tortured expression.

"We both fucked up big time," Minho said after a long moment of silence.

"I lost you with what I said, didn't I?" he asked timidly and bit back a sob as Minho didn't answer. “Min, please, just answer the question.”

"Right now, you did, yes," Minho nodded, holding back a sob at that confession. It was the first time he truly admitted that to himself.

"Will I ever get you back?" he asked.

"I don't know, Channie," he laughed weakly and almost choked on his tears. Minho flinched heavily as Chan buried his face in the blanket, sobbing quietly. "Please stop," he begged him quietly, putting his cup aside.

Chan mumbled an apology, hiding even more as his body shook with heavy sobs. He couldn't help it, reality hitting him full force. Something in him had still believed in a happy end for them and that something had shattered into pieces. "I'm such an idiot, I mess everything up," he sobbed.

Minho’s body moved before he realized it, and he stepped in front of him, fondling his head. "Channie, love, please," he whimpered, crying hard by now himself.

Chan whimpered at the pet name and soft touch. Minho cupped his face, making him look at him, and Chan's stomach turned, seeing that he was crying just as hard as he was.

"Please don't make this harder than it already is," Minho whispered, wiping his cheeks with his thumbs uselessly.

"I'm sorry, Minho, for everything," he sobbed and closed his eyes as Minho planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "Don't give me hope. Please, don’t give me hope," he whispered.

"I hate seeing you cry, that's not fair," he confessed weakly and held back a sob as Chan covered his hands with his own. "Can you hold me again?"

Chan opened his arms for him and pulled him into his lap. He wrapped his arms and the blanket around him at the same time as Minho sank against him. They held each other tightly, trying to calm down at the familiar and missed touch. "I got you, Minho baby," he whispered, and Minho buried his face in his chest, stifling a sob.

"I'm so sorry, Channie," he whispered, gripping his shirt. "I need time to figure this out."

"We have time," Chan told him and buried his face in Minho's hair.

"We both need some space to work through that stuff," he said, and Chan's hold on him loosened.

"You're right," he agreed quietly. "I can leave."

"Please don't," he shook his head. "Not tonight."

Chan pulled him close in response and closed his eyes. Maybe there was still hope for them. They'd have to work through their hurt on their own until they were ready to forgive each other. "I'll stay as long as you want me to," he promised.

Chp.9 | Chp. 11

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