#<- is deeply in denial about certain things

[mouseleygraham]

honestly it never occurred to me that a huge reason why I’m insecure of my body isn’t because I’m afraid of not being hot it’s because my body as is gives me a lot of dysphoria. don’t know why I didn’t connect those two together LMFAO

[buccini555]

𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: "𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮"

⁀➴ Them reacting to you saying "I hate you" after an argument

⌕ H e a d c a n o n s !

ᶻ 𝗓ᵎ 𝐹𝑡. Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Kakucho Hitto, Izana Kurokawa, Shinichiro Sano, Inui Seishu and Kokonoi Hajime

𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Ran would be surprised and immediately remain completely silent, he would ignore you and look at you with a look of utter disappointment.

"So that's it? You hate me? Okay, just leave me." He would say in a serious tone, pretending not to be hurt in a certain way and would definitely shrug his shoulders, ignoring you after your spoke.

"Think better before you take out your stupid anger on me, understood?" Ran wouldn't listen to your apologies or any other speech coming from you, he would remain rude to you for a long period of time and would certainly become even more absent.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Momentarily, Rindou just wouldn't take your sentence seriously, despite that, that doesn't mean that hearing those words didn't hurt him in some way.

"You have to control your fucking emotions before you say something you'll regret later." Immediately, Rindou would respond to your speech, looking away and shaking his head in denial, it was undeniable that Rindou was totally disappointed with such an attitude coming from you.

"... Leave me alone." He would ask politely before he lost control with you and worsened the current situation between the two of you.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨

Haruchiyo would ignore you talk, or at least try to ignore it, hearing you say that you sincerely hated him broke his heart, but he would never show any feelings about it.

"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you talk shit." Sanzu wouldn't hesitate to leave to avoid even more confusion, he honestly didn't intend to end up losing control with you.

"...You've already hurt me enough." It would be the last thing Haruchiyo would say to you before walking away, even if you apologized or wanted him to stay, Sanzu would ignore you, even if he didn't want to, he would leave you for a while.

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

Kakucho always did his best to avoid fights and would never say rude things to you, when he heard you say that you hated him, the taller felt his world collapse at the same moment, despite everything, Kakucho hid how sensitive he was, but, at that moment, all he could do was cry.

"I-I'm sorry for making you hate me, I never wanted that..." As soon as he calmed down a little, he would say completely disappointed in having let things get to this state.

After this fact, Kakucho would remain hurt for a long time, no matter how much he understood you or accepted your apology, he would continue to feel that feeling of not feeling loved and being unable to make someone really love him.

𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

Izana would be deeply hurt and disbelieve your words, as soon as he heard you, he would laugh nervously, but as soon as he realized how serious your words were, the smile would give way to a serious expression.

"I hate myself too, do you think I would really be affected by your stupid hatred for me?" Izana would say, screaming, he wouldn't even be able to look at you, he would just remain brooding away inside because he thought that, in a way, he had caused such behavior in you.

"Since you hate me, go ahead! Leave! Leave me like everyone else did!" It would be Izana's final speech, he really wouldn't accept your apology.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

Shinichiro would look at you with a look of disapproval and sadness, he wouldn't even be able to believe what he was hearing.

"... You hate me?" He would say, still in denial, the fight would end instantly, Shinichiro wouldn't even want to hear you anymore, he would really believe those words and that would hurt.

"I would never say something like that to you, never! Do you know the pain of hearing that? You'll never know that." After completing his speech, it would take you a while to see him again, Shinichiro would definitely leave you there, alone, because he was hurt and also to get away from all those fights.

𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐮

He would be completely disbelieved in your statement even though he knew that the fight was becoming unbearable, he really didn't expect that from you.

"Y-you hate me?" He would question, with teary eyes and a trembling and low voice, as soon as you finished speaking, Inupi would immediately look away and try to hide how much it affected him.

"I'm sorry for making you hate me, it won't happen again." Before you could say anything or apologize, Inui would say, walking away and going to be alone for a while, at that moment, he would believe your words, making him feel guilty for not being able to avoid all that fight.

After a while of trying to convince himself that you just said that in a moment of anger, Inui would try to forget the whole mess.

𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞

Kokonoi would be silent as soon as you made your speech, hearing you say that you hate him would really hurt him, despite that, Koko wouldn't show how sad and disappointed he would feel, on the contrary, he would act as if nothing had happened.

"You hate me? Okay, I'll remember that." He would say in the calmest tone he could and give a wry smile.

"I'm sorry, but I can't say the same to you." Kokonoi would walk away from you and not say anything else after that, ignoring any apology or anything like that, deep down, he would honestly be holding himself back from crying.

Even if everything was fine, Koko would definitely hold a certain grudge against you, moreover, he would start to think that you really hate him, making him become a little cold and distant.

[dontexpecttomakesense]

There is something that I find so very interesting on Bullfrog's reaction to Rayman's breakdown when he shows him the reality of Eden and the concequences of his complicity

Look at him.

He's horrified.

Up until that point, he had been treating Rayman with a certain disdain. He called him the "poster boy of Eden", refered to him with a very distant and professional "sir", compared to the fact that he immediately started calling "mon ami" to complete strangers that he had met on a holding cell about two days ago. The way he said how he expected that the contents of his bubble wouldn't be to Rayman's liking had a certain mokery to it. He knew it would be unconfortable for him, and to an extent was going to enjoy that.

And it's not like he didn't have reason to, Rayman entered to room expecting and looking for a way to get his old job back. To get the security, the feeling of safety and confort that he had grown used to over the years. He reframed everything to how unfair it was to him, while talking to a man that was about to go to a kangaroo court to be sentenced to death. He responded to every instance with the Eden-approved responces that had been burned into his brain broadcast after broadcast. He postrated himself to Eden's feet because he genuinely believed that he was nothing without them.

And when they reach the tipping point, Bullfrog, in spite of his best efforts to reach out, saw Rayman as a lost cause. He went into spitting the bubble fully convinced that he'd watch a man go all in into denial of everthing that would be shown to him.

Instead he watched how Rayman unravelled into a mental breakdown and throw up out of sheer stress.

But he didn't intend that. He didn't mean to hurt him. At least not as deeply as he did. He's sorry that Rayman had to live through that.

Interestingly enough, right after this scene, he pointedly refers to him as "mon ami". Offers some confort so Rayman understands that he had been used. And he defends him in front of Red. Because a reaction like that doesn't come from someone who genuinely loves and believes in Eden. He saw for the first time beyond the poster boy who had one slip up. Rayman is guilty of being complicit of many things in the name of Eden, but he's also a victim of Eden's machinations. He's misguided and ignorant, in denial, but he's not evil. He's kind, he is "just". He wants a better life for everyone, for hibrids, for children.

You watch that face in that instant and you can read "Oh God, he cares. He really cares and loves for the hibrids and the children and now he has to watch how they have used him to cover up how much they abuse them."

[chenfleur]

open the gates, let me in

summary. jeno always seems willing to do anything for you, and it takes a lot of inner nagging for him to finally realize why.

pairing. jeno x y/n ft donghyuck, jaemin

genre. fluff, college au, best friends to lovers

disclaimers. swearing, denial resonates so deeply with me its humiliating

word count. 4.0k

released. 02.05.23

author's note. feedback is appreciated! BAEKHYUN IS BACK FROM WAR 🙏🏻 WE CHEERED

masterlist

For what feels like the nth time this hour, a certain honey-skinned boy shamelessly rolls his eyes at one of his best friends. That title, however, is in serious danger of being revoked if he has to spend one more agonizing second in this store.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't ditch your ass right now," Donghyuck jeers. His habit of poking his cheek with his tongue shines through as impatience radiates off of his body.

Jeno ignores his complaining, eyes diligently scanning the rows of colourful fragrance bottles.

He's quite overwhelmed. The labels, brands, scents, and undertones—they all mean nothing to him. The only thing he's somewhat familiar with is the brand of the cologne he takes a liking to, but the strong woods and smokes of the men's cologne selection is a distinct opposite of what he’s looking for.

It leaves him to stand cluelessly among the shelves of white flowers and citruses and berries, trying to pick out the combination he thinks you'd like the most.

"Where would you even go? I drove," Jeno deadpans. 

He gently picks up a translucent, pale red bottle. Blood orange and peony.

Popping off the cap, he spritzes a tiny bit on his inner wrist and brings it up close to his nose. The scent is like a punch in the face, leaving him reclining back with a furrowed brow.

Too strong.

"We're going to be late to Jaemin's if you don't hurry the fuck up," Donghyuck says, burning holes through Jeno's skull before letting out a deep sigh.

"Can you just pick one so we can go? We look like fucking idiots here."

Jeno only hums, cracking a small smile.

He couldn't chide him for being wrong—the two of them look very out of place. Their sharp silver jewelry, inked skin, and dazed boyish smiles contrast against the dainty bottles standing atop the soft pink shelves of the women's fragrance section like black on white.

"Firstly," Jeno begins, voice riddled with amusement. "You don't give a fuck about punctuality-"

"Oh look at you, going off with your big words."

Jeno spins around. "Hyuck, you're drinking a matcha frappucino while looking like that."

He points at the green drink the boy was sipping on, the extra whipped cream he asked for contradicting his hard exterior.

Donghyuck scoffs. "Sorry I don't like to drink death in a cup," he drawls, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

He breaks his glare on the black-haired boy as he sees two girls standing a distance away, his face doing a 180 as he notices them not-so-discreetly staring.

Smirking, Donghyuck confidently throws them a wink. He watches with pride as flattered giggles spill from their lips, before turning back to Jeno, who had picked up another bottle.

"Why are you even doing this?" Donghyuck asks out of genuine curiosity, though it's hidden underneath the guise of annoyance.

"Y/N asked me to."

Here’s some money. Get me something you think I'd like, yeah? you had said. Or something that you'd like. I'll still wear it, I don't care. I trust your judgment.

Donghyuck snorts. "I'm convinced you'd do anything for Y/N," he mutters.

It's an offhand comment, yet it makes the black-haired boy put his tongue between his teeth as a weird, sprawling feeling erupts in his chest.

The thought of why he seemed willing to do anything for you had never occurred to him. Not because the thought had never shown up to the gates of his consciousness—Jeno was uncomfortably familiar with the strange feeling in his stomach when you were around—but because he never let it in.

He doesn't dare to let it in, even going as far as telling it to leave and never return each time it knocks—because if he did, he would spend hours in this perfume section, legs going numb from standing as it invaded and overtook his brain, preventing him from getting anything done.

His eyes land on one last bottle. It's a clear one, with a clean, minimalistic label.

Lazy Sunday Morning. Maison Margiela.

Jeno repeats the action he's done with multiple bottles by now; spritzing the fragrance onto a new, untouched area of his inner arm and bringing it up to smell.

It's soft, it's floral, it's feminine. It infiltrates his senses in the way fresh, cotton bed sheets would. The soft sun after the rain.

It's how you look when he comes over to your apartment unannounced on a random weekend morning: wearing an oversized white shirt and a pair of high-waisted sports shorts.

It's the strawberry lip gloss that always stains your lips. It's your Hello Kitty pillowcase that you wash way more often than Jeno washes his, for which you constantly nag him for being unhygienic.

It's your flushed, red face at parties, your preference for tea over coffee—your smaller, softer hand grabbing his calloused one when he gets nervous.

Jeno thinks it's you, and he hopes you think it's you too.

He slowly turns around to Donghyuck, who's fidgeting with the tattered sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Smell this," he prompts, snapping the brown-haired boy out of his daze.

Donghyuck tugs at Jeno's arm, bringing it up to his face and taking a quick whiff before letting it fall. "Smells nice. I'm sure Y/N will like it. Now let's go," he presses, already taking off towards the exit.

Jeno only shakes his head, gaze falling on the bottle he held in his ring-clad fingers. He thinks it would look nice on your vanity, next to all your other bottles of products.

He doesn't know what they do, but they make you, you.

Donghyuck, whose brown strands are now dyed a refreshing purple, throws his head back howling with laughter as he sees you and Jeno approach the food court table.

He receives several displeased stares from nearby people, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest, only being able to focus on what Jeno is wearing.

"Oh my fucking god, Jeno," he wails incoherently, pointing at his friend's pants while clutching his stomach. "What- what are those?"

Your choice to wear a pair of light-washed, ripped skinny jeans to come to the mall turned out to be a massive mistake. You're bitter towards the person who first said "beauty is pain" because of how miserably right they are; whose idea was it to make girls' pants so uncomfortable?

The walk across the parking lot to the entrance was enough for your legs to start screaming for relief, resulting in you pleading with Jeno to switch with you.

Jeno drops down into the empty seat next to Jaemin, letting out a deep sigh. He rubs at his temples as Donghyuck's high-pitched, maniacal laughter erratically rings throughout the air.

This is exactly why he was adamant about declining your request; Lee Donghyuck is an entity of pure evil, and Jeno felt the humiliation creeping up on him from behind like a tiger ready to pounce.

But as he always seems to do, he relented.

Now, his sweatpants sit comfortably on your hips, bunching up at your ankles while he wears your jeans, the pant ends stopping halfway up his calves.

"She was chafing," he mutters, referring to you.

Donghyuck laughs loudly and unapologetically, reaching down to poke at Jeno's bare knee through the large rips of the jeans. His actions result in him getting a hard slap on the arm, eliciting a pained "ow!" from him.

You give Jeno a sweet smile, slipping him another whispered apology before feeling a gentle tug at your wrist.

Renjun begins to drag you away from the table, mumbling something along the lines of "new premium watercolour set" and "20% off". Jumping up from his seat, Donghyuck follows suit with a devilish smile etched on his face, immediately asking the shorter boy to buy him a vinyl he had his eye on from earlier.

Jaemin watches as the three of you fade into the crowd of customers, leaving only him and Jeno at the table. As soon as you disappear from his sight, he whips around with anticipation. "So?"

A shaky blink. "So..?"

"So? Have you thought about what I said?"

Jeno doesn't respond as he stills, his lips pursed carefully.

Of course he had thought about what Jaemin said.

He tried his goddamn hardest not to, just like he has with every other possible reasoning behind his feelings that wandered into scary, uncharted territory—but how could he not? It wasn't something that he could just forget, like remembering to wash his socks or buying milk.

A week ago, Na Jaemin had brought upon him a revelation that was far too casually dropped at one of the group's regular get-togethers. It was like a silent bomb, and it had been doing no less than eating at him alive.

He wants to deny it so badly. In fact, that's exactly what he's been doing—denying its possibility of being true, denying its existence at all.

If it was going to slip through the cracks of the iron gates, Jeno was going to make sure it felt as unwelcome as possible.

And that's exactly what he does.

"I have," he begins meekly.

Upon hearing these words, Jaemin's lips stretch into a wide smile. "And?"

"...and I don't think you're right."

The lights in the younger's eyes flicker out just as quickly as they turned on. He doesn't even bother to hide his disappointment, giving his best friend a deadpan stare. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

He was expecting this reaction from Jaemin, but he couldn't let it get to him. Not when he couldn't let the narrative Jaemin was pressing so adamantly a week ago be true.

A loud sigh rips through the air. "Jeno, why are you so in denial?"

"I'm not in denial. It's not true."

Jaemin leans forward, looking into his best friend's eyes. He could tell there was a deep, buried sense of longing behind those dark irises.

"Lee Jeno," he begins slowly.

"I have known you nearly my entire life. I have been by your side since we were puny, disgusting first graders, and I have never seen you be so caring towards someone."

Jaemin has always doted on you.

He reminds you of a worrying mother; a fairy who is always there to remind you to dress warmly and take your vitamins. When you had a fever, Jeno had knocked on the door of your apartment only to be let in by Jaemin, who had been in your kitchen making his mother's soup recipe for you.

Donghyuck is the playful, sarcastic brother you never had.

He's the one who always encourages you to down another shot, to get you to do crazy things like jumping off the roof into a pool. But he's warm when he needs to be; Jeno had walked in one night through the door of his and Donghyuck's shared apartment to find you dumping your emotions onto the honey-skinned boy's shirt as he whispered words of consolation.

Renjun indulges your passionate side.

You share so much in common with him and you value his opinion like a sacred script. He's your 3AM therapist for your woes, he's your debate opponent for any topic—he's the one who encouraged you to chase after your dreams when you had trouble deciding on whether to choose what your parents wanted for you, or what you wanted for yourself.

Jeno thinks he's just Lee Jeno to you. 

The captain of the basketball team you met back in junior year of high school, who’s an architecture major at the same university you go to. Your best friend, but only if you thought so.

When it's about the others, Jeno seems to see everything—how they care for you, in what ways they’re integrated into your life—he doesn’t seem to notice how much he cares for you. 

He doesn't think about how sometimes, he miraculously finds himself entering your apartment at the crack of dawn to remind you to bring an assignment that's due that day. And when you knock your hand against his, silenting asking for him to hold it, he’ll reluctantly put his cold, mysterious image aside to gently slip his hand into yours.

There was one time when you asked to go stargazing in the dead of the night. Despite the subzero weather outside, not an ounce of regret coursed through his body when he agreed to go with you.

He couldn’t feel his fingers when he was out there, but it didn’t feel like it mattered when he saw you pointing at constellations with a smile of pure euphoria painted on your features.

He doesn’t notice how you notice that he cares.

The way your eyes lit up when he quietly entered your room with medicine and a hot water bottle went unseen by him. You never told him that Renjun was only half of the reason why you chose to pursue art, and that seeing him choose architecture over the path his own parents wanted for him pushed you over the edge.

He seems to remember you curled up to Donghyuck's side, but not how as soon as you saw him walk through the doorway, you gently peeled yourself up from the couch, out of Donghyuck's hold to throw yourself onto him, because you had come to their apartment looking for him. For his hold, for his comfort.

No, he doesn't notice these things because he's selectively blind when it comes to the possibility of there ever being a 'you and him', and it drives Jaemin nuts.

Jaemin laughs, dumbfounded. 

"For fucks sake, Jeno," he exclaims, dragging his hands down his face. "You're literally wearing women's jeans right now."

He removes his hands from his face, staring deeply into his best friend's eyes in a last-ditch effort to get through to the stubborn boy.

"You're in love with her."

"I'm sorry."

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times those two words had left Jeno's lips.

The party downstairs blares in the background, though it’s muffled by the closed door. Jeno’s murmured apologies are the only sounds that fill the air, other than the squelches of water as you squeezed your shirt in the sink. 

You turn your head around to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. He’s sitting on the edge of the acrylic bathtub, sliding his rings up and down his fingers with a distant look on his face.

"Stop apologizing. It's okay."

Despite graduating two years ago, Johnny Suh still parties like it’s his full-time job, and being in his second-floor bathroom makes the room feel like it’s a physical manifestation of his spirit.

There’s two lights above the bathroom mirror, though one of them had blown its fuse. It casts a dim, aquamarine light that reaches every corner of the small room, highlighting the slightly frayed shower curtains and dark crevices of the floor tiles. There’s a few shaving products and the remains of a half-smoked blunt strewn across the surface of the otherwise clean countertop.

The reason why you and Jeno are in the bathroom instead of downstairs isn’t one the boy’s proud of. 

You didn’t run into Jeno until around halfway through the night. They say you haven’t had the real college experience if you haven’t gone to a Johnny Suh party, and the flocks of people that covered every part of the estate prove how much people value getting their tuition’s worth.

A light sheen of sweat is apparent on your forehead as you try your best to weave your way through the masses. You don’t even know where you’re going, and you could feel it growing stuffier as more people spilled into the halls.

It’s only until you suddenly feel a piercing cold sensation on your chest do you see something other than drunk college students pressed together.

You come face-to-face with Lee Jeno, who’s staring at you with big, round eyes and lips parted in sheer horror.

You glance down at your own body. The center of your chest is several shades darker, a large wet splotch prominently standing out against the beige fabric of your long-sleeved top. 

Your eyes dart between your top and Jeno’s red solo cup that had several droplets of liquid dribbling down its side. Realizing what just happened, you can’t help but laugh.

“Why hello to you too, mister,” you say between giggles.

Jeno’s face is flushing redder by the second, and there’s a big bump on his head from the imaginary hammer that struck him for being so stupid. 

A few seconds go by of just him staring at you before stutters spill from his lips. 

“I- Oh my- oh my god,” he breathes out. “Oh my fucking god, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay. I needed an excuse to get away from all the noise anyways,” you cut him off, reaching for his free hand. 

“Come with me to the bathroom?”

The words flow out of your mouth like a smooth, running stream; casual, and far more relaxed than the jittery feeling in Jeno's stomach. He doesn’t resist in the slightest, the feeling of your touch sending a surge of electricity up his arm.

Finally looking up from the metal around his fingers, Jeno’s breath hitches.

His eyes trail down your figure with innocent intention. The thin straps of your ivory, silk camisole delicately sit on your collarbone, your black miniskirt hugging your waist. 

He doesn’t realize he’s even staring, not when he’s mesmerized by the slope of your nose, or the outline of your cupid’s bow.

There’s something that the aquamarine glow is doing to you that makes his jaw go slack.

Usually, he’d be alert, keeping his thoughts in check—but the slight intoxication seeped through him, and he can feel himself growing careless.

Jeno's hand twitches. You're within arm's reach, he could reach for your waist and pull you right into him—but he doesn't, because that would ruin the scene.

This scene of you standing in front of the sink, twisting your shirt in your hands with a small crease in your brow. It's so domestic, so perfect—he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to see you like this every day—

—and then, he hears it.

There it is, the violent banging on the gates. It echoes through the halls from outside, persistent and maybe just a bit desperate. Or, was it actually his heart thumping against his chest?

Open up! it yelled. You would do anything for her. You're in love with her, idiot!

Had it been his heart all along?

"There we go," you give your top one final twist, grinning with satisfaction as the water drips down clear.

You turn the sink off and unravel the top from its scrunched-up form, flapping it a few times to prevent creases.

"That should do it. Okay, let's go back downstairs. Hyuck bet ten dollars I couldn't beat him in beer pong and I'm going to make him eat his wor-"

Your rambling is cut off as soon as you turn toward the boy on the edge of the tub. He's staring at you with misty eyes, and you can't stop yourself from taking a step closer.

"Jeno?" you call, leaning down to meet him at eye level.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, you lower yourself into a crouching position, and your hand finds its place on his knee. You let your fingers drum on the fabric of his black jeans, musing your wonder.

"You're drunk, aren't you? How much have you had to drink?"

The action is mindless, and Jeno knows it. The two of you often shared small, habitual touches—but this time, it's wholly different.

"I'm- I'm not drunk," he croaks out.

A light-hearted snicker. "Sure you aren't."

"I'm not."

"Then why is your face so red?"

"I'm just... thinking about something."'

An amused chuckle leaves your mouth before you muse your wonders, "You're drunk, Jen. But, would you care to share?"

Jeno feels himself unclicking the locks. "Okay," he huffs out nervously.

The iron gates swing slightly ajar.

"I'm thinking about how I would do anything for you."

A pause goes by. The sound of the music downstairs seems to have gotten even louder, to the point where Jeno can't hear his own breathing. He wonders if he's even still breathing as his gaze rests on you intensely, waiting for your reaction.

When your fingers stop drumming against his knee, Jeno's world stops.

"O-oh."

Your expression is indecipherable as his words sink in, eyes growing rounder and your lips part.

Your eyes dart around Jeno's face to see if you can locate a trace of playfulness, a hint that he wasn't thinking straight—and while his flushed, rosy cheeks are a telltale that he's a little intoxicated, his eyes are heavy with sincerity.

He's being serious, and it brings you to a loss for words.

"A-and? What did you conclude?" you manage to stutter out, peering up at him.

This is exactly what he was afraid of. Afraid of your disappointed expression, your lips ready to utter the inevitable words he wished he'd never have to hear.

He's not even sure what those words exactly are, because Lee Jeno feels like a fucking mess right now, but he'll know in a few seconds after you say them—

"I... I don't really know why..."

A lightbulb clicks in your head. You seem to realize Jeno's implications before he even does himself.

"Jeno?" you prompt, voice feather-soft.

The boy's eyes are screwed shut by now, unable to look you in the eyes. He's trying to lock the gates closed again, as they were for so long.

"Hmm?" he weakly hums.

"I love you."

Jeno's attempts are futile. The thought is victorious.

It pushes past his regret-driven efforts. It floods his head akin to a raging tsunami.

It's so loud. The music in the background is so loud.

You are so loud. Your eyes, your grip on his knee, your words—

—they're so loud.

She just said she loves me.

"I've loved you for so long. Do you love me too?" you whisper, hand subconsciously reaching for his.

It shocks Jeno how his voice doesn't fail him. "You love me?"

"I do."

"M-more than a friend?"

"Much more. I love you like I'll never have you, even if I always find myself in your arms," you say, letting out a dry chuckle as a small smile graces your face.

"Do you love me too?" you repeat.

The gates snap off their hinges from the sheer force, and the thought chants a victory song—

You're in love with her!

Jeno blinks.

I'm in love with her.

Jeno never seemed to mind, when it came to you. He never seemed to mind wearing your light blue skinny jeans for you, and he never seemed to mind looking out of place with his grungy demeanor inside of a delicate perfume section either. He never seemed to mind waking up at an ungodly hour for you, and he never seemed to mind holding you when the world was against you.

And as you look at him, your face glimmering underneath the dim, bathroom light—it clicks.

Jeno suddenly realizes why he'd be willing to do anything for you. He'd be willing to get you the moon and the stars if you asked, because he loves you.

And, because you deserve it. It's the least he could do for you for loving him.

Reaching out a wavering hand, Jeno gently pulls you up from your crouching position so the both of you could stand. Your gaze never leaves him, your previous question still hanging in the air.

The boy rests his hand delicately on your jaw. His eyes glaze over your face, taking in your beautiful features before landing on your lips with a shaky exhale.

"Do you love me too?" you ask for a third time, your irises shining with hope.

"Fuck," he breathes out. "I- I do. I love you, so much."

You don't even get the chance to beam at his confession before he closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips against yours.

[messiahzzz]

thank you sm for the ask!! 💕 i’m glad you enjoy my posts and it is not a strange request by any means!

note: this is merely my read on gale’s sexual preferences/kinks. i don’t want to police anyone on their headcanons or claim they are “incorrect”. since the game doesn’t provide too much detail, many things remain up to interpretation. (and lest we forget fanfiction has always encouraged the exploration of dynamics that may not be present in canon.)

gale is a character who isn’t interested in walking the straight and narrow route. he is all about new experiences, favoring non-traditional means, putting his own spin on things, and the thrill of seeking the forbidden. the sheer romance of the uncharted and the unknown. he is enthusiastic in almost every aspect and possesses an infectious zest for life. in regards to his sexual preferences, this translates into an eagerness to explore, witness new sensations, and reach new heights together. while approaching the topic of sexuality with a generally playful, adventurous attitude.

if you’re looking for harder kinks, however — i don’t believe gale is the character for you. and in case it needs to be said again: there is nothing wrong with being vanilla.

initially, i see gale as a switch, who gravitates more towards assuming a dominant role, due to his ever-present desire to give and to impress. i do think he enjoys giving up control, yet you still have to actively convince him to let himself go and be spoiled for once. his first focus will always be to fulfill his partner's needs and drown them in his all-encompassing love and adoration. i also believe that gale will grow more comfortable with being the center of attention, once their relationship has reached a point of total security (and he had ample opportunities to show in just how many ways he can wow them). gale is not a strict dom, nor a sub. in his ideal relationship roles would be discarded entirely, deeming them too restrictive in his expression of intimacy with a trusted partner. it’s all about variety and ridding oneself of the shackles of the worldly, after all. melting into one perfect whole, not knowing where he ends and his partner begins.

gale: we are all sensual vessels. illusory magic lets us sail farther, and feel more deeply.

gale: [..] i could use the weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning.

based on what we know about gale, these could be some of his kinks:

lots of praise (this is non-negotiable), sensation/temperature play (waxplay, electrostimulation/all the many perks magic has to offer), sensory deprivation, light restrictions and bondage, the occasional roleplay, katoptronophilia (self-explanatory), altered mental-states (hypnosis, psychedelics), orgasm control & denial, body worship, olfactophilia and given his propensity towards verbosity: narratophilia and some very inventive dirty talk. as for my own self-indulgent take: due to the recurring emphasis on hands during his romance, as well as his being the main tool in how he shapes and navigates the world: quirofilia.

nodecontext: flustered, standing in front of his romance partner in bondage gear. not necessarily uncomfortable with the bondage aspect, just trying to stay focused.

now, what are gale’s hard-limits?

gale, after the player received loviatar's blessing: your hide, your choice. not quite my cup of tea though.

while projecting your own kinks and fantasies onto fictional characters is fine and well, disregarding and ignoring the source material (and the character's stated boundaries) is another matter entirely. fanon!gale is rather ooc and very different from his canon portrayal, which is something that tends to irk me. although this remains a common fandom phenomenon.

personally, i don’t see gale as someone who enjoys pain of any kind, be it giving or receiving (with the exception of spanking and light choking, if a certain mood strikes. although it is kept mostly playful). contrary to what fandom may claim, having self-worth issues, being loquacious, emotionally expressive, and vulnerability-seeking (as well as being commonly perceived as arrogant and insufferable) doesn't automatically equal having repressed masochistic tendencies. he could be convinced to dip a toe into sadism, but only upon his partner’s insistence. although i doubt he himself would find enjoyment in that.

the same applies to degradation/humiliation. i doubt that a character who is still very much struggling with inherent self-worth issues and a general feeling of being defective/not worthy would derive sexual gratification from being degraded. yes, it can certainly be healing for some, but gale doesn’t strike me as someone who would find particular enjoyment in that. quite the contrary, actually. nor would he like to do the degrading for that matter (he would vehemently refuse. all he wants to do is sing your praises.) gale wouldn’t enjoy being leashed and/or collared in any way either. the prospect of being tied up or restricted is rather intriguing, cause it serves to center one’s vulnerability while also allowing for more intense sensations. anything that taps into the puppy play/slave territory tho? he would find it demeaning… and, quite frankly, silly.

gale is also not a voyeur, nor a cuck. the entire scene with the drow twins leans way too much into dub-con territory for my tastes. the only way you can get him to participate at all is by rolling a persuasion check with DC 25. in every other dialogue option, he immediately (and explicitly) declines. even if you do manage to pass the persuasion check, he is still very hesitant about participating.

gale: i might enjoy watching you tangled up with the drow, as long as i was five paces back.

he then immediately runs from the room, because sending a simulacrum in his place was the only way to somewhat remove himself from the situation while still being able to please tav. because of course he wants to please and clearly this is important to tav so he might just… have to discard his reservations and... just go through with it?!

gale: well i suppose it would do no good to back out now. let us begin this little anthropological study, if we must.

i am aware that fandom uses the fact that his “orb lit up in telltale excitement” as a justification that persuading him was the right choice, as well as confirmation that he was secretly into it and “just needed a little push" to explore his desires/get out of his comfort zone. that implication alone is very suspect and goes straight into the sort of logic abusers often use. you can be physically aroused by certain scenes, images, or sounds, even while being visibly uncomfortable with the presented scenario. it is a natural response that you can’t often control. which is what he is showing throughout the entire scene: discomfort. he was coerced into this situation, without any prior discussion or an opportunity to talk about his boundaries. furthermore, this is what he has to say if you approach him after the threesome:

gale: ahem. i hope you're not here to ask about our recent, erm, activities. i'd rather those were consigned to the footnotes of our romance, if it's all the same with you.

since he is strictly monogamous, any arrangement involving another person is also a no. he made this rather clear when tav sought him out after receiving halsin's proposal. him being monogamous isn't solely rooted in his trauma, it isn't something he has to “overcome” in order to heal, nor does it mean that their relationship is any less fulfilling. call him greedy, stubborn, or old-fashioned, but he cannot comfortably agree to that.

[adorabluesposts]

Hi!!

I loved your Lucifer x death story and I was wondering if you’d write a Lucifer x Reader but they are Alastors daughter who he kept sheltered? Like they are innocent and such but they were hellborn so they can’t leave. I feel like Lucifer would definitely pine over somebody so maybe him trying to get her to realize he likes her while Alastor keeps him away?

Tysm for being my first request<3 love this idea!!

This is realllyyyy long because I had to give in a lot of context before getting to the point. Might turn this into a series just because this is too fricking long 😭

Lucifer X Alastor's daughter.

"You dare to touch my daughter?"

For the longest time, you were locked away.

Locked away by Alastor, a man who raised you with a certain paranoia, keeping a happy mask on as he taught you manners in his Radio Tower, never letting you leave.

Alastor had raised you in seclusion, shielding you from the brutality of Hell’s politics and power struggles. You knew nothing of the outside world, your knowledge confined to the ancient tomes in the tower's private library. You pretty much devoured tales of angels and demons, of forbidden love and cosmic battles. But your favorite stories were those of your father—the radio demon who had once terrorized the living world, because it amazed you; Your father was never like that with you.

Even aunt Rosie would often tell of shenanigans Alastor did, which surprised you at first. You were truly in denial, of how your father could do such things. You got used to it, even coming at peace with knowing you'll probably never be like him.

There wasn't much interaction that you did- only talking to your father and his shadows, Rosie (who was very much your favourite person in the world) and some of the Overlord's, every now and then.

It was mostly you, all alone in the tower. All alone. Lonely. Bored. All alone. Bored. For decades. Eons. You lost count, seriously.

--

"Dad." You munched down your pancake, Alastor looking up from the mirror hung on the wall , even though he was supposed to fix his tie. "We need to talk."

"Could this wait, deer?" He replied, turning back to the mirror. "I'm late to my job."

Ah, yes, his job. The job you never asked about, because every time you wanted to, he'd shoot you a glare.

"No, I can't wait." You said, getting up from your seat and walking over to him, fixing his tie. "Dad, this is important. My birthday's soon.. and I'm positive I'm old enough to go outside. I've read so much about Hell that I know enough about it. I've even made a slideshow if you don't believe me!"

Alastor looked at you with an angrier expression. "My deer, we talked about this-"

"You can't keep me here anymore. You're not keeping me safe, you're ruining me."

Alastor sighed deeply.

"it's not fair, dad."

"it really isn't." He agreed.

Reluctantly, and with a lot of talking, you got him to agree. As long as you stayed by his side for a while, you'd be able to go out. You needed to sign a contract, though (father's orders), to swear that you'd try to stay safe.

"But how will I stay by your side if I can't accompany you to work? What is your job, anyway? Considering you're not working for the radio anymore." You asked, and he stayed silent for a few minutes. It was clear this was a big step, and he wasn't so happy about letting his little dove grow up.

"I work at a hotel." He sighed. "Do your research, darling. I'll tell my coworkers you'll be paying a visit."

"paying a visit? Does that mean I get to go there alone?" You eagerly asked.

"Oh, nonononono, I'm picking you up."

--

"You've got a WHAT?" The energetic voice of the blonde asked, jumping up and down.

"who knew smiles had it in him-" Angel earned a 'be quiet' glare.

"They'll be visiting today.. just don't get weird." Alastor's static buzzed lpudly. "I've been keeping them safe for as long as they lived. Their poor mind doesn't know how this all works."

"so they're a good person?" Vaggie asked, accompanied by Charlie's: "Does that mean we can get them redeemed?"

"Hahaha!" Alastor laughed. "They're a hellborn. And never in my mind mind would I let them leave my side and go to Heaven, even if they weren't."

"Did you know about this?" Husk's clearly too-sober voice asked Nifty, to which the girl just shook her head.

--

You nervously fidgeted with your hands as you awaited your dad's arrival. You were dressed nicely, wanting to make a good impression. What if your dad's friends were mean? Cruel? Evil? What if they didn't like you?

~

"Some of them are a bit odd." Alastor buzzed, his hand on the doorknob of the hotel. "You'll get used to it, deer."

You breathed in and out, calming your nerves as you walked in. "Woah, this place's not so b-"

"Hii, I'm Charlie, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" A girl eagerly ran up to you, shaking your hand with excitement. "I was soo excited to meet you! You need to see the others! I need to make a tour!"

You were pretty confused and feeling many feelings about the first interaction, but thought Charlie would be a fun person to befriend anyway.

"Hi, I'm Vaggie." A girl next to her said, softly taking Charlie's hand from yours, which you silently thanked her for. "I'm Charlie's girlfriend."

You smiled. "Nice to meet you both."

"That's Husk, he owns the bar." Vaggie said with a calm voice, pointing to the creature who grunted at you.

"that's Nifty, she cleans." Vaggie continued, her girlfriend jumping up and down in excitement next to her.

"And that's Angel Dust, our first resident. Sir Pentious was our second resident." Vaggie said, her voice followed by the 'Heya toots' the spider said.

--

"Will you be staying? We'd love to have you. You're so nice I love you already!" Charlie said, after a successful tour. You lost your dad long ago, seeming as if he's gone to do his own business (you pretended to ignore how his shadow replaced yours in the meantime).

"It wouldn't be too bad." You said. "I could get a bit of a break from my dad for once."

"Uhh, speaking of dads." Angel poked his head in the room. "Charlie, your dad's at the door."

Charlie nervously looked at Angel. "Oh, that's great.. what does he want?"

"He said he wanted to revisit without Alastor, since word is he's out of town."

"my dad's out of town? Great!" You silently mumbled.

"Oh, well, I guess it's time you meet my dad, aha." Charlie told you, and you raised an eyebrow. "Who is your dad?"

A short figure walked into the room, eagerly hugging Charlie. He looked so much like her, ignoring the height difference.

"Oh my." You whispered, recognising the face from the books. "Your dad's-"

"Oh, hello." The man smiled at you, looking you up and down, "I'm Lucifer, The-"

"King of Hell, yeah, I know. Oh my Satan."

An awkward pause followed. Silence. More silence. Him looking you up and then down again, making you fix your posture.

"Well, ha! Dad, why don't I show you some new things we added to the living room?" Charlie practically dragged Lucifer out.

--

Your mind instantly lingered on the king for the next few days. It was no surprise why he was the most beautiful man in the world, truly gorge- snap out of it.

"Deer, I've been talking to you!" Alastor set his cup down. "Why aren't you listening?"

"Oh, sorry. I was zoned out." You excused, and his static buzzed louder.

"Strange. You're never like this." He sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have let you out."

His serene smile practically stared at you.

"No, dad, I mean-" You laughed nervously. "I just really miss the hotel, dad. It's really nice."

Excuses. More and more excuses every time you zoned out. Every day. And then he'd take you with him to the hotel, and you'd silently pray that Lucifer would be there. He never was.

--

"A party?" You questioned Charlie. Apparently, the princess wanted to throw a party to spread awareness and information about the Hazbin Hotel- people would come and have fun, Charlie and the crew would explain the deed, and we'd get more visitors.

If you ask me, Charlie's got the IQ.

"And you think I should come?" She nodded as an answer.

Your dad stood next to you, a protective aura lingering over his body. "I think it's a lovely idea, Charlie!" His static buzzed.

You looked at him, eyes widened. "You do?"

"we'll surely attend, Y/N." He smiled. "Would be good for you."

You shuddered. This was so unlike him.

"I don't have what to-"

"I'll help with that!"

"I don't know how to dance, either. And I'm socially awkward-"

"You'll be fine, come on!"

--

You looked at your clothes nervously. You looked good, better than ever, but what would others think? According to Charlie, a bunch of royalty would come (including Lucifer, the Ars Goetia.. Lucifer!!)

And all you could whisper out was fuck, because you were so nervous.

Charlie knocked at your door (technically her door, as you got ready in her room- the party started hours ago. It was the anxiety that made you stay), and practically begged for you to finally go.

You and her linked arms, to which you entered the main lounge area, where you saw people. So many people. And your anxiety rose.

You gave your best smile as she introduced you to a few people, such as Stolas of Ars Goetia (who you thought was very polite and nice, even through his sad smile), and a few of the Sins. Beelzebub was someone else you met, who instantly brought a grin and laugh to your face.

It was all gone when you caught Lucifer's gaze, and you both walked towards eachother. It was the second interaction you two would have- a chance to make a better impression.

"Oh, wow, you look dashing tonight." He said as he bowed to you.

That's right, he bowed. You internally screamed.

"You look quite wonderful, too." You said, and he rose up with a smile. He took your hand, your fingers brushing softly with eachother as he kissed it.

The music went silent, overshadowed by loud static. Everyone looked around confused as the room glowed red, and your father appeared behind Lucifer.

"You dare touch my daughter?" He growled. You could feel his anger and protectiveness in your gut. You sent him a reassuring smile and glance, to which he stopped towering over Lucifer, the music blasting again.

Everything back to normal.

Lucifer and Alastor exchanged a glare of pure hatred.

Shit, was Lucifer messing with you just to fuck with your dad? It was working, then. Alastor was beyond furious.

You looked into Lucifer's eyes and couldn't help but smile. It was like a spell. You were frightened, that you'd fall in love now, even though he was quite literally using you to get under your father's skin..

To be continued..

Okay that's it folks. This took a lot to upload but I've started the next part and ahhh I love itt. This is a bit rushed but I hope you like it so far :)).

[eli0004]

Okay. So I loved loved loved your relationship HC canons. They were so well written and I loved him❤

But can I also request Levi falling in love HCs? Like I can imagine him being in love but for the love of God I can not imagine how he would fall in love with someone. Like what certain characteristics would he like? Bold? Calm? Sunshine? Introverted? And how will he be attracted to them? Would it be easy for him to accept his feelings or will he be in denial?

Like please please please.... I love the way you write Levi. So please.

-🌼

Absolutely! I love this topic actually, it’s something I’ve thought a lot about! 🖤 I hope you enjoy!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: How does Levi Ackerman fall in love, and what is his ideal type?

Warnings: None, maybe some talk of insecurity?

Levi is a December Capricorn. December Caps are known for being highly emotional, but struggling with emotional expression. They’re also usually very uptight and disciplined, and tend to take a practical approach when dealing with situations as opposed to flying by the seat of their pants. Obviously these traits are pretty accurate to Levi’s character. A Capricorn’s most ideal match are typically Taurus or Virgos. Commonly known Tausus/Virgo traits are passion, stubbornness, dependability, logic and communication.

Now, obviously you don’t have to be a Taurus or Virgo to be loved by Levi, but think with that in mind, Levi would do best with someone who is very strong willed and independent. He’s not the type of guy who wants to be with someone he has to keep his eye on. Emotional maturity and practical thinking are very important traits to him when looking for a partner, and someone who can communicate well is very attractive to him, since he has a harder time putting his feelings into words.

He likes someone who is genuine, trustworthy and dependable. Someone who has a strong sense of justice and empathy, who defends and advocates for others when they are unable to defend themselves.

I think he likes a good mix of pessimism and optimism. He’s a pessimist himself, so if you’re too optimistic it may irritate him rather than help, he prefers someone who is more of a realist. Someone who doesn’t enable his negativity, but who helps him to think rationally instead.

Like i said before, i think Levi is a deeply emotional person. If you’re only looking surface level, it wouldn’t be obvious, but when you breakdown a lot of his character traits in the show itself, it’s pretty clear that he tends to be swayed by his emotions. I think he would know immediately when he falls in love.

He’s the type of guy who’s always in his head, he thinks a lot, visiting the past, pondering the future. When he starts to catch his pondering turning into fantasizing about a life with you, doing domestic things, and being cozy together, that’s when it hits him.

But I think he’s also deeply insecure, not so much about his looks, but his personality. His ability to love again after having lost so many people. Whether or not you deserve someone better. He’s used to being misread as unapproachable or mean, so somewhere along the way, i think he might have begun to believe those things.

I think it would mean a lot to him if you just treated him like a normal person. Not humanities strongest, not mean or unapproachable, or someone to be pitied for his struggles. Just let him be Levi, and praise him for who he is in his soul.

All that said, i don’t think he would be the one to make a move 💀 because he’s so in his head, i think he’d be too worried that he’s misread the situation and that you don’t see him that way, perhaps you’re just being nice. He’s extremely oblivious to flirting.

But if you catch on first and decide to shoot your shot, he will be absolutely flabbergasted. He’s looking over his shoulder like “do you mean- are you talking to me?” Before that moment, he’s mostly convinced that he’ll be pining in silence for the rest of your lives.

Levi blushes. A lot. He’s very pale in complexion, so the smallest bit of flirting or teasing has heat spreading over his face, and it’s painfully obvious.

So when you’ve got him face to face, telling him how you feel about him, he may not be able to respond in beautiful poetic words, but his body language is enough to tell you how he feels.

He won’t make eye contact, he’s all red faced and bouncing his leg and gripping his teacup with so much force, you’d think it was going to crumble. And oh- what’s that? An ever-so- subtle, happy little grin; completely involuntary, he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. He feels boyish and vulnerable, but it’s strangely nice.

Your relationship with Levi is not a secret, but it is private. He values your time together, as it helps him to decompress. He all but melts in your embrace after a particularly hard day, and It’s crucial that you respect his desire for privacy, the level of raw emotion and vulnerability with these new experiences is something that he’s entrusted you with and that means everything to him.

And on the subject of new experiences, the more you handle him with care and allow him to process his feelings without judgment, the less he’ll worry about not being good enough, and you’ll find that he’s a very good and attentive lover.

Even still, you’ll find from time to time that reassurance is something Levi needs like he needs air to breathe, and this can come in the form of many things, like remembering little details about the things he loves, taking care of some of his responsibilities when he’s feeling overwhelmed, quiet touches when he lacks the energy to speak.

Having someone who sees him for who he is and loves all his broken pieces is what Levi finds comfort in while he’s nestled in your arms at night, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[kmgkmg]

CREAM SODA - JEON WONWOO

word count: 1.6k…

pairing: wonwoo x afab!reader (otherwise gender neutral)

synopsis: wonwoo comes home from practice needing some relief (not a lot of plot...but a lot of action iykwim...)

genre/s: smut, idol!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, bf!wonwoo, established relationship, domestic

warnings: nipple play, shower sex, petnames (literally just baby), begging, biting, marking, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both receiving)

rating: r (18+), minors dni

a/n: the lyrics were absolutely insane for exo's comeback but it also had me ~imagining~ things for wonwoo so...here it is! thank you so much to @rose-likesto-write for being the beta reader for this fic!

Wonwoo opened the door as carefully as he could, only to see you sleeping peacefully on the couch. It was already past one in the morning, he was drenched in sweat and his whole body ached from dancing for hours. 

“Baby, I’m home,” he softly announces to you. Seeing you stir awake causes him to smile lightly and caress your hair. 

“How was practice?” You yawn, getting up to hug him. 

“It was decent, nothing unusual. Are you sure you want to hug me though, I’m pretty gross right now.” He turns around to reveal the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat. 

You ignore his warning and hug him, “It’s okay, I need to shower before going to bed anyway.”

He hugs you back before separating the hug and raising an eyebrow, “It’s so late and you still haven’t showered…how lazy.” 

The tone of his voice was all too familiar, matched with the lust in his eyes. It’s evident that he wanted to have his way with you. “Guess we need to get clean then.” 

You’re fully awake now, excited of what the night has to bring you. What Wonwoo will do to you. 

“Already thinking about what I’m going to do to you, Y/N?” He teases you, nibbling on your bottom lip before kissing you deeply.  

You both become solely focused on each other, making out sloppily while taking off each other’s clothes. Bumping into things was a given, you could only imagine the mess your place was with clothing sprawled out everywhere. 

You finally get to the bathroom and Wonwoo wastes no time. He turns on the shower, pushing you against the shower wall as he starts kissing you again. The way that he was kissing you, you knew you’d be covered in marks. It didn’t matter though, he loved that the whole world would be knowing you were taken. Your quickened breaths could be felt as he continued to cover you in hickeys. 

He knew your weak spots just like the back of his hand. The amount of pressure to apply, the touches and reserved focus on certain parts of your body, he memorized it all. His lips linger on your nipples, biting them just enough to be both painful and full of pleasure. You were in the palm of his hands, shaking from his touch. Wonwoo spreads your thighs open, “Look how wet you are for me.” 

You can’t even muster a reply, overcome with pleasure from his affection. It was always this way whenever you had sex with Wonwoo. 

He stops abruptly, much to your dismay. He grabs the washcloth and lathers soap all over your body. Wonwoo also notices your eager eyes as you grab the washcloth from him and begin to rub soap over his body in return.

You paid special attention to the area behind his ears, knowing touching them only made him more aroused. He tosses the washcloth aside and kisses you again.

“I need you, now.” You beg, hand reaching for his dick. 

“Yeah?” He hums, continuing to leave marks all over your body, “How bad do you need me?” 

You kneel down, opening your mouth and stretching your tongue out to show him. 

He finds you cute the way you wanted to pleasure him just as much as he pleased you.

You take his dick into your hands and look at it in admiration, never getting over his size. You used your tongue to play with the tip before fitting as much of him as you could in your mouth. He was hard and thick which only turned you on more. You loved the taste of him.

He placed his hand gently behind your head and held himself in place with the other hand on the shower wall. “You can handle more of me, can’t you?” 

You attempt to say yes but it comes out muffled due to him being in your mouth. He slowly goes farther in, fucking your mouth. 

“You look so hot with my cock in your mouth, Y/N.”

You continued giving him head until he pulled out and released onto your face.

Looking up at him with swollen lips, teary eyes, and his load on your face you ask, “How was it?”

“You did so fucking good, baby. Should I give you a reward?” His low voice asks, helping you up onto your feet. He cleaned your face up with water. 

You nod fervently, “Yes please, Wonwoo.”

He turns the shower faucet off, deciding that the shower was too small for all that he wanted to do to you. Neither of you bother with grabbing a towel to dry off and he pushes you onto your shared bed.

He trails his fingers down your wet body slowly, sending chills. By the time he puts his fingers inside you, your body was already on fire. He goes at a steady rhythm, enjoying the overindulged expression on your face.

You reach for anything to hold on to, foolishly grabbing his hair. That doesn’t stop Wonwoo from fingering you, instead he uses his free hand to grab both of your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Did I say you could move freely, Y/N?” His question could barely be heard as you experienced pure ecstasy from his touch. “Do I have to ask again?”

You shake your head no, unable to form a proper sentence. Each time he rammed his fingers into you, the heat inside you built up more. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it. 

Moaning his name was enough to get him to look up with a sly smirk, knowing your voice when you were close to your limits. Without a second to waste, he pulls his fingers out, depriving you from any possible orgasm. 

“Wait until I give you permission.” 

Your whole body trembles, trying your best to follow his order. Raggedly you whine, “Please, Wonwoo, I need your fingers in me again.” 

“All pretty saying please…you’ve earned it.” He curls his fingers into you again and you instantly reach your climax. He rubs your thighs supportively, helping you work through the orgasm. Your mind went blank besides the image of Wonwoo being vivid.

“Y/N, do you deserve more?” He watches you catch your breath, having more planned for you. 

You were still panting, but craved more. Your eyes fluttered open, “Yes, please.”

Wonwoo smirked and laid soft kisses on your torso before continuing. You sprawl out again, preparing for whatever he was about to do. 

He skillfully used his tongue on your clit and squeezed your ass before sliding his tongue in you. You writhe under the new stimulation on your lower body. Clutching the sheets in your hands, your moans grow louder as you’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy.

Intoxicated with the taste of you, Wonwoo’s grip around your thighs tightens more. He takes a break from eating you out and looks up at you dazed, “I just know this tastes too good to be healthy.”

Wonwoo loved eating your pussy. Drowning in your juice, he ate you out like it was an animalistic instinct of his. Your bodies grinded together in harmonization. Each time you squirmed he would move his tongue in a different direction, making you arch your back again and again. He gave you no time to recover and before you knew it, another orgasm came. You clenched your thighs together out of reflex, but Wonwoo loved it. Loved the way you wrapped his head between your thighs so much it only made him more excited. He continued to eat you out, even as you came. 

“Do you have enough strength to get on all fours?” Wonwoo’s question snaps you out of your bliss, knowing the main event is coming. You reposition yourself on the bed, having Wonwoo watch each move hungrily. 

He puts his hands on your hips and looks down at you with soft eyes, “Y/N, do you want this cock in you?”

Your head is facing the headboard, a sight you were too used to, “Use me all you want.” 

The sound of your gasp fills the bedroom as he fits his entire length into you. You roll your hips into his cock, legs still feeling weak and Wonwoo was to blame. You could feel yourself pulsing around his cock, so sensitive that anything he did would make you lose your mind. 

“Good baby, so tight for me. Who owns your sweet pussy?”

“You, Wonwoo! I’m all yours and only yours,” you whimper as your eyes roll back. 

Your words turn him on even more and he leans down to kiss you tenderly before thrusting faster. 

“I’m about to…” Wonwoo groans, unable to contain himself. 

“Fill me, fill me with all of you.” You plead, about to come for the nth time of the night. 

Your words send Wonwoo over the edge and he does one final thrust, filling you with him. His eyes close in pure euphoria as you clench around his cock. He pulls out and appreciates the view in front of him.

Wonwoo loved seeing his Y/N being left a mess. Hair disheveled, covered in sweat, and panting. He falls onto bed next to you, exhausted. 

“I love you,” Wonwoo sighed, caressing the side of your face.

“I love you more,” you exhaled, caressing his face as well. 

Wrapping his arms around you, Wonwoo’s fingers tapping against your shoulder as you nestled your head into his chest. You both laid in bed, unable to sleep but needing to rest after your strenuous night. After about thirty minutes, his bulge could be felt against your ass as he held you. 

“Not tired yet?” You tease him knowingly.

“Looks like we’ll need another shower,” he smugly replies.  

Tonight was going to be a long night, not that either of you minded.

[skzhua]

Episode seven.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: Kind of suggestive, reader is in denial, lowkey cringe but it's cute y'all, I promise.

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

(let me know by filling the form in my bio if you want to be added to the taglist!)

You didn't remember how and when you got home. The last thing you knew was that Q had found you among the crowd of students and that you almost passed out then. That would explain why you were back in your room with the worst headache you had ever experienced. You truly woke up when Kitty gasped as she sat right up on her bed. She got up and shook your body but you groaned in pain. Concluding you were not going to get up, she left to go to Q, leaving the door of your room opened. It allowed you to hear everything.

"Q! I have something to tell you, get up!" Kitty hurriedly said.

Another door opened only for Min Ho to yell at his friend. "Q! Did you drink my collagen water?" He got no response other than an annoyed groan. "Or was it you?"

"What? No." Kitty answered.

By then, you made no effort to stay in bed as your roommates couldn't keep their voices down. You walked to the kitchen and laid your head on the counter as you kept listening to them.

"My collagen water is meant to keep my skin dewy. Not rehydrating people who can't handle their liquor."

"My God, why are you screaming?" Q whined. "It's the middle of the night and I'm still drunk."

"No, it's not. It's 8 in the morning."

"Already?" you whined as well.

"Yes. And thanks to some idiot, my party dynasty has come to an untimely end, so yeah, I am in a mood." he sighed.

"Are you in a mood to make me coffee?" Q pouted.

"Yes, but I will deeply resent you."

Your head shot up at the mention of the drink. "Will you be an angel and make me a cup too?"

He deadpanned at you. "And now you want my help. Fine but don't complain if it's not to your liking."

He walked around the counter and started to prepare everything. You yawned loudly and he shushed you, but you still yawned again.

"For crying out loud, will you stop?"

"Your party, your fault. I didn't even want to go in the first place."

"Ah yeah? And yet, you still came and denied me when I was trying to be nice to you for once. I'd say the alcohol played a big part in it, just as much as to why you're so unpleasant this morning."

You laughed sarcastically. "Aren't you being nice now..."

"I am. Here's your coffee." he said rudely as he placed the mug in front of you.

You hopped off the stool to go to the living space while he followed after to give Q his coffee and you dropped on the seat lazily. Him and Kitty seemed to be having an interesting chat as they argued whether she had a sex dream or not.

"Was it about Dae?" you joined in and she denied quickly. "Okay, not Dae."

"No, no. I didn't say I had a sex dream."

Min Ho also joined as he gave Q his cup and stood next to you, leaning on your chair.

"Okay, you didn't have to. Spill." Q insisted.

"It doesn't even matter because dreams don't mean anything."

"She's right." Min Ho jumped in rather quickly. "They don't mean anything. You can have a sex dream about someone you hate in real life."

"Yes, yes, exactly. Thank you, Min Ho. He could have a sex dream about, um, Y/N!"

You heard Min Ho choke on his coffee and you facepalmed. "What the..."

Q looked up in thoughts and bopped his head towards you. "He had a sex dream about you."

"No, I didn't." he dismissed. "If I did have a sex dream about Y/N, it'd be a sex nightmare."

"Oh gosh." you shut your eyes in embarrassment.

"I'm not hearing a denial." Q pointed out.

"It doesn't matter because dreams don't mean anything." he repeated.

"Exactly. I hate mayo." Kitty said.

"And I hate Y/N."

You winced at how loud he was while being right next to you. Q gave you a knowing look and you huffed at how intense this morning was for no reason.

"Sex dreams mean something." he smiled mischievously.

Someone then knocked at the door. You and Kitty rushed back to your room to hide only to hear Finnerty come in. Saying you were in big trouble, he informed the guys about an eight hour long detention you had to attend because of the party. You cried out and let yourself fall face first into your blankets.

"I blame this on you and Q. I wouldn't have come if you minded your business and left me alone."

Kitty chuckled. "Did you have fun, though?"

"I guess? Mostly but I wouldn't have minded staying home."

You stepped in the library together, Professor Lee having started the detention already. You sat at a table and started to pull your things out of your bag. Most of it were your notes to study for your upcoming exams. It didn't feel like it quite yet, but the end of the semester was nearing.

"You have your friend, Miss Song Covey, to thank for that." he said which caused for everyone to gasp, including yourself. "That's right. She was kind enough to alert me to last night's shenanigans."

He held out his hand for the two of you to give your phones and you complied.

"It was you?"

"It was you?"

Both Min Ho and you looked at each other weirdly after saying the same thing at the same time. Kitty chuckled awkwardly.

"This could be fun, though." she tried to cheer up. "Like The Breakfast Club, right?"

She only received glares from the others. You shook your head in disappointment and opened your books to focus on something else other than her.

Somehow, Madison found her way to detention and sat down at Min Ho's table, waving at him cutely. The girl never particularly bothered you much but with what happened the night prior, you weren't on her good side. It shouldn't even affect you this much. Min Ho had the right to do whatever he wanted on his own time.

"Hey, babe. Last night was memorable." you overheard her say to him.

Okay, maybe it did get to you more than necessary.

He cleared his throat in uneasiness. "Why are you even in here? You didn't get caught at the party."

She gave him a knowing look and you decided to step into their conversation. "Yeah, how did you not get caught?"

"Please, I've snuck out of every window in every boarding school."

Professor cut your discussion short and asked them to give him their phones. Min Ho was staring at you again in the process and mouthed something to you that you couldn't comprehend. He did it again but you were still clueless; he dropped it eventually.

"Hey." Dae called out to your table. "Kitty, did you talk to Yuri?"

She opened her eyes wide. "Yuri? Why would I talk to Yuri? I barely know her. I don't want to talk with Yuri or do anything else with her." she rambled on until her eyes laid on the said-person.

You swore the day could get any weirder than it was, but here you were. Being moody already, you decided to focus on your books instead, diving right back into studying. It didn't last, though. You heard your name being whispered loudly along with a couple of 'psst'. And you would recognize that voice anywhere now. Your eyes found their way to meet his and you were surprised to see an empty chair next to him, Madison having disappeared. He bopped his head to the place next to him but you shook your head. He gave you a look and, with a heavy sigh, you took your stuff and went to sit with him.

"Where's your girlfriend?" you asked.

"She's not my girlfriend. And I told her to sit somewhere else." he pointed to another table where, indeed, she was now sat at.

"So now you can bother me for the next eight hours, great."

"I won't even be allowed to talk with you."

You raised an eyebrow. "There's no point in sitting with you, then."

He shook his head. "I think we need to go over some things you and I?"

"For the chemistry lab? I already explained it to you."

He grunted out of frustration. "No. About you and I."

Lee shushed everyone which restrained you from asking Min Ho what he meant by that. As detention began, you actually did study. Min Ho tried to poke your hand a few times to get your attention but you always dismissed his attempts.

A few hours had passed and you had already gone over most of the stuff you needed to do. As for Min Ho, he scribbled something on a paper for a while. Writing, erasing, writing again... You weren't sure what he was doing but it seemed to keep him occupied. But when he passed the note to you, you became doubtful. You gave it back to him, not wanting to play his little game. He pushed it back to you only for you to do the same. The back and forth lasted until Lee announced he was needed at the gymnasium. After putting Madison in charge since she wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place, he took off.

"You heard him, eyes down." she said, earning groans from the other students.

When he was completely out of the library, however, she stopped pretending and told you all to do whatever. Still, no one moved and kept quiet, uncertain on what to do.

"What? Haven't any of you gotten stuck in a Saturday detention and kept the party going when your teacher leaves the room?" Getting shaking heads as a response, she gasped. "Oh, y'all are so cute. Okay, poker game will start in the World History section, make-outs move in the back by the rare books. I like an organized chaos. Go!" she finished with clasping her hands together.

Everyone moved and started to chat, some continued to study – you included.

"Y/N, can we-" Min Ho started but Madison coming up to him cut him off.

"You, me. Rare books." she whispered to him before grabbing his arm. "Let's go."

"Wait, what?" he broke away from her.

She frowned. "No?"

He glanced at you briefly. "No, find someone else."

She sighed. "So you were serious earlier. No messing around, I see."

She left to go to the stairs where people were starting to lay out their poker game. Min Ho scooted closer to you but you didn't dare to look at him.

"Can we talk now?"

You shrugged. "There's nothing to talk about."

With a frustrated sigh, he grabbed your arm and dragged you out of your chair. You complained but he kept leading you deep into the library, almost reaching the rare books.

"Would you stop pretending for once? Gosh, you're annoying." he said once you reached a spot behind a bookshelf.

"You're going straight to the point, aren't you?"

"Yes because I know you won't. What did you want to tell me last night?" he asked before crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Nothing important... Just that I'm sorry for being rude when you simply wanted to help me with Dongmin."

He grinned. "See? You can be grateful at times."

"Yeah, yeah... But now, I also want to apologize for interrupting your make-out session with Madison."

He grunted. "It was one kiss."

"Yeah, and now it's 'babe', 'last night was memorable' and 'join me by the rare books' type of situation." you scoffed.

"It was one kiss." he repeated. "And I don't even like her, so."

"But somehow, you're together? Make it make sense."

He rolled his eyes. "She made it all up in her mind, I swear."

"Sure."

A smirk slowly grew on his face. "Are you jealous, puppy?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks. "You wish I was."

"Hmm, pretty sure you are."

With Professor Lee coming back, you rushed to sit right back where you were. Kitty and Yuri had vanished and you wondered what happened to them. The teacher announced that it was lunch time and gave you a paper to write down your orders. Giving it to Dae first, you and Min Ho joined him at his table.

"What are you going to eat?" you asked him.

"I don't know." he shrugged. "How can I think about food when I'm going crazy wondering what Kitty and Yuri are up to."

"I asked myself the same." you hummed.

"Whatever it is, it's none of our business." Min Ho said.

Dae nodded and took the paper for the food orders. "You're right. I guess I'll just order their lunch."

He started to write but seeing what he was putting for Kitty, you stopped him. "She likes tuna gimbap."

"Without mayo." Min Ho added.

Dae gave you both a weird look. "Since when are you Kitty experts?"

"Since we have to live with her, thanks to someone."

You hit his arm and he grunted while Dae gave you the clipboard. "He's kidding, he loves living with her."

He scoffed. "Let's say I do. I know what you'll have."

"No, you don't."

"So you weren't just about to put in kimchi gimbap with jjajangmyeon?" he sneered at you making you stop writing to glare at him. "I'm right, no?"

"You are." you admitted and gave the sheet to the next table.

"Hey, what are you doing? I didn't write mine."

"I did it for you. Bulgogi kimbap? Extra kimchi?"

He grinned at you. "I'm impressed, not going to lie."

You smiled back and your eyes lingered on each other for a second too long. Dae observed in confusion.

"Did I miss something about you two?"

Min Ho only let out a hum. While Professor Lee announced he'd do a roll call, Dae started to panic. With the girls not being here, he whispered for help to the tables around. Florian was kind enough to be a suck up to the teacher and Lee left to go get a book. That left the rest of you in Madison's charge, meaning being totally free.

Min Ho took your hand and went back to the bookshelf you were at minutes ago. You knew what was coming; he wanted to finish what you had started to discuss. Crossing his arms again, he waited for you to speak.

"What do you want me to say?" you whined, getting annoyed by his behaviour.

"With Madison, were you jealous or not?"

You groaned. "This isn't close to being important to know."

He took a step closer to you. "For me, it is."

Your breath hitched. His figure hovering you, just like that time on Chuseok, it felt too personal to be a casual move. You didn't want to look at him, but he didn't stand that. Bringing his hand to your chin, he lifted your head up so you were finally eye to eye. If you weren't blushing already, you definitely were now.

"What if I wasn't? Then what?"

He thought for a moment. "Then that is it. We act as if this conversation never happened."

You hummed. "And... if I was?"

He smirked. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

"Min Ho, please."

His eyes softened. "Then it'd be very difficult for me to not kiss you."

Something snapped in you. While a second ago you would have donne anything to keep him away the furthest from you, now all you wanted to do was to smash your lips against his. So you did just that, kissed him right away. He was startled by your boldness but it didn't take him long to kiss you back, bringing your body closer to his by your waist. It felt like every pound that had been weighting on your shoulders was gone, all the bizarre tension gone. You wondered if this was only one of his jokes to mock you afterwards but you were too immersed in the moment to care.

Unfortunately, it came to an end when someone shouted that Professor Lee was back again. You broke away from Min Ho's embrace to walk back to the tables.

"Let's go."

He held your wrist and shook his head. "Just one more minute." he said and pecked your lips.

"Lee's coming."

He huffed. "You're no fun."

You shrugged your shoulders. "We'll play later, puppy."

You swore you had never seen his eyes get darker so fast. "I like that idea."

taglist: @nanaspalette | @schniti-is-in-the-house | @bakugou-katsukis-wife | @soobin-chois | @honeydewpie | @snoozeagustd | @justemalove | @n1ninunwo0 | @loislucky | @kuromomomi | @lysira340 | @lenilla15 | @upsidedownjill | @woozarts | @hy-eins | @olivetheoryx | @b1tch1macow | @dreaming-hope25 | @jiaant11 | @melsunshine | @sincerely-aaronette | @wonyofanclub | @jaehyunicecream | @zucchinimalfoy | @beeomgui | @jinxwhore28 | @mimisamisasa | @gordorio | @honeyisnotreal | @elliesinterlude | @melonshifts

Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

[spiegelgestalt]

En en/Yao is a condensed form of the relationship Mao Mao can imagine with Jinshi (Spoilers until LN 9)

One of the frustrating things as a Jinmao shipper is that Mao Mao is let's say subtle in her affection for Jinshi. Most of the romantic affection comes from Jinshi and it's mostly Dubcon (consider this your content warning) Does Mao Mao even love him? A question for Jinshi and a question for the reader because Maomao is deeply deeply in denial of her own feelings. She is so much in denial she isn't even thinking them. (And this is confirmed in the novel - Mao Mao will refuse to think about stuff that makes her uncomfortable) So how can an author show that there is something there: Through parallels of course:

In comes the lesbian pair En'en/Yao

En'en is very open about her affection for Yao. She loves Yao so much that she goes wherever Yao goes, is dismayed and loses all will to live when they are separated, finds excuses to touch Yao (like preparing only one umbrella), spends all her money for ingredients for good food/stuff she thinks will help Yao in the long run. She loves Yao so much it becomes controlling and uncomfortable sometimes. It has also a slightly sadistic edge. (giving Yao frogs to grow her breasts, enjoying it when Yao struggles). So parallels - En en is Jinshi right? The love, the separation anxiety, the overstepping of boundaries - it all fits. Yaos name even rhymes with Mao Mao.

WRONG! En'en is parallel to Mao Mao. They are both geniuses, they are smart, they don't care what others thinking, the have a certain ruthlessness to them. They even look a bit alike. And Yao is a lot like Jinshi: she is a sheltered young person, who tries to escape the control of a male relative who wants her to take over a role she doesn't want. She is described as beautiful and hard working. She doesn't know a lot about the world but she's trying very hard. She even is as childish as Jinshi.

And here comes the interesting thing: Mao Mao looks at En'en/Yao and describes their relationship as the perfect Servant/Master relationship. Even though she describes En'ens devotion as twisted, she says it's okay because Yao isn't reciprocating. En'en can love Yao freely without having to fear that Yao might love her back. That's how Mao Mao sees it. This is a love Mao Mao is comfortable with. Because it's a hopeless. Mao Mao doesn't see herself as a loving person. She sees her special interests and believes that she will always choose them over people and because she cannot love correctly she wants to be used instead. she wants to be a tool that can be discarded so that noone ever gets the idea of sending fingers in the mail just because she hasn't loved them enough. But when this safety is established she can love freely. She can have sexual fantasies about Jinshi being ravished (fantasies that stop immediately when she discovers that she is the object of his sexual desires), she can take care of all of his needs. En'en is devoted to her mistress, but a lot of claims Mao Mao makes about En'en read like projection from Mao Maos side to me. Here again is a save space where she can fantasize about completely taking care of a master without the terrifying ordeal of that master wanting her back.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 17. wicked games

chapter tags/warnings: family drama. mentions of masturbation. mentions of sex. infidelity/adultery. nonconsensual acts. manipulative undertones. strong language. classism.

word count: 3.6k

notes: this chapter incorporates the official manga relationships in the zenin household (link that illustrates the family tree). without further ado, i present to you the latest pov added to the fic: toji! likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Toji Fushiguro could not get his mind off of you.

Was that weird to admit?

When he last saw you two weeks ago in Teyvat’s meeting room, dolled up in that pretty pink dress, he had to wrestle every urge to push you onto his dick. All the times he had to retreat to his room afterward too—all because your one outfit had set off his imagination—forcing Toji to lock and then lean against his door so that he could palm himself through his sweats to dirty thoughts about you.

Gosh, what higher being in the universe allowed you to be such a hot and sexy tease? You sure loved prancing around with basically nothing and stealing looks at his colleagues as though he wouldn’t notice.

At this point, Toji was certain that he wasn’t the only therapist calling dibs on you. That most definitely pissed him off, though, because he explicitly told you that your pussy belonged to him.

Then why hadn’t you made another appointment these past two weeks?

Were you upset, perhaps flushed with utter denial, from the revelation that your husband had been cheating on you? Besides, he recalled how you had reacted so strongly to the information, racing away from the therapists who were just being honest with you.

In hindsight, Toji might have felt a teeny tiny bit bad about crushing your rose-colored glasses without much lead-up, but he was rarely the type to beat around the bush anyway. After all, he was the one to suggest a divorce in your first therapist appointment.

Of all things, echoing laughter was what finally grounded Toji’s wandering mind.

His green eyes fluttered rapidly, realizing that he had been in his office and staring blankly at his desk for... how long has this been? He glanced briefly at his tabletop clock. When he noticed how the time had advanced by thirty minutes, Toji rested his forehead on his left palm. “Damn...”

Given how he had a fully booked schedule today, he could not afford to dawdle in his thoughts. He had not noticed that half an hour had passed so quickly. How was it possible that thinking about one person (you) made him lose all sense of time?

He could do better than this.

‘Maybe you’re the one who needs a therapist,’ Megumi had recently pointed out to him in irony, and boy, do these words from his own eighteen-year-old son sting.

In contrast to himself, though, his co-workers had lately been in higher spirits than usual. That much Toji could ascertain given the hubbub that continued to filter into his suite. He would not have minded the phenomenon much had it not been for this gut feeling, this hunch, that you were the reason behind this change.

At his age, Toji has learned to mind his own business, but he still considered joining his colleagues by the reception desk to investigate. He stopped, however, upon noticing an article at his desk.

Right, this was what had derailed Toji from his work.

‘Look at this, boss,’ Geto had said when he first presented the printed webpage to Toji. ‘No wonder Y/N’s been lonely. Naoya literally took his side bitch to Mexico.’

The accompanying photo may be in low resolution, but Toji recognized the two figures hand-in-hand, stepping into a private jet. Their faces were shielded by baseball caps and face masks, their bodies clad in boring and baggy clothes. Consequently, Toji had to scoff, drumming his fingers along his cheekbone. 

Another impeccable snapshot for our collection, huh?

Quite the scandal was brewing in Japan’s high society, not to mention how the illicit relationship involved your husband, and the therapists were merely here for the show. This was what the therapists were trying to advise you about before you promptly shut yourself away from them.

The love affair—especially involving a family as influential as the Zenin’s—should theoretically be all over magazines and newspapers, but any internet search for this image would prove futile. The Zenins were good like that, relying on under-the-table tactics to ensure that this photo would go nowhere.

Only thanks to his colleagues, who had extensive contacts throughout Japan’s many ranks, was Toji able to get his hands on this printed article before the magazine editors had taken them down.

Naoya, that cunning bastard.

If he had been in Cabo prancing around with his paramour, how did he so quickly realize that his images had been circulating among Japanese media? Or, more likely, was it his authoritarian father Naobito who informed his doltish son about the impending rumors?

Either way, Toji could not believe that he was affiliated with both assholes by blood, no less: Naoya, his cousin, and Naobito, his uncle. To think how he was involved again with the relatives who he had sought to avoid, Toji assumed that fate must love toying with him.

Already, growing up in the Zenin family was hell, to put things mildly: how they would obsess over power and prestige as though those two items alone determined one’s value as a human being, how they would scrutinize one’s every action because everything had to conform to their cookie-cutter standards, and then how they would abruptly cast aside those who strayed away from their ideals.

Toji, once an established member of the household, could speak from experience. Thus, blood relation meant nothing if these were the same people who had prayed for his downfall. 

He recalled his relatives’ dirty glances when he announced his engagement twenty years ago, then the even nastier looks when he took his first wife’s surname as his own: Fushiguro. ‘She’s a woman too low for our caliber,’ Toji had been told. 

He remembered the apathy he later received after his wife’s untimely death, followed by belittlement when he chose to marry again—this time, to a single mother. Perhaps he should have heeded his family’s advice for the last bit, but his decisions seemed right at the moment. During a desperate time, he provided his then-gradeschool son with a much-needed maternal figure as well as a stepsister.  

His personal life already made him a deviant among his relatives, so when his family discovered his therapist ventures earlier this year, Toji was not surprised to be severed from the household he once had been considered to lead. Well, Toji was more relieved than bitter, anyway. He could now live life on his terms without worrying about what his father’s uncle’s second cousin twice-removed or some crap like that thought about him and his son.

As he gazed upon the pixelated photo again, he sighed and wondered: was this how low the Zenins have stooped since they had expelled him? A centuries-old bloodline built on relationships with the public and the powerful, now resorting to bribes and threats to sweep scandals under the rug? While watching the Zenin clan burn from afar was entertaining, the situation was also pathetic and sad.

To also think that his moronic cousin Naoya was now not only the household heir but also the current CEO of the family conglomerate. Not to mention that the family’s current patriarch Naobito seemingly turned a blind eye to Naoya’s flings. The older Zenin might have been a brilliant businessman back in the early ‘90s, but his elderly brain had deteriorated too far to see how, at this rate, his son would eventually drive the company and the prideful family to the ground.

Had you realized what you married into?

Probably not, but you didn’t deserve this.

Or, to put things the other way around, the Zenin family didn’t deserve you.

“Yo!”

Toji shot up from his seat just as his door crashed against the wall.

He turned to the sound’s source in surprise. Leaning against the entryway stood a personage with his white lab coat draped over his unsurprisingly shirtless chest. The incomer crossed his thick arms over his half-exposed tattoos, but one such arm frees itself to greet Toji with a mocking wave.

“Sukuna,” the older therapist grumbled, “I’ve told you to knock first.”

“Why?” the pink-haired man challenged, not caring how this must have been the hundredth time he heard the order. For him, this was in one ear and out the other. Rather than mind the complaint, he inspected his newly filed nails. “Worried I would walk into you fingering Mrs. Zenin again?”

“Only because that’ll make you jealous,” Toji retorted with equal spite, to which his colleague chose not to respond anymore.

Besides, as a savvy businessman, Sukuna knew how to pick his battles. He might come off as crude, but only because he understood that, with his financial acumen and incredible connections, he was an indispensable asset.

After some silence, Sukuna’s chest rose and fell with a long sigh. “Well, check your schedule, Fushiguro. You have an appointment coming up now.” Not only was he the most well-organized therapist but also the current receptionist on duty. He then huffed again. “Tsumiki’s mom has been waiting for you. I don’t know how you deal with such an impatient bitch. What the hell am I supposed to do when—"

And a hand shoved his face away before he could finish.

Sukuna, flinching from the unexpected approach, recoiled at a beaming woman that peered in from the door frame. Anyone would immediately notice that the overly excited client was beautiful. The plush of her full lips, the gentle arches to her face, the roundness in her doe-like eyes—her looks were akin to an angel constantly in awe. Most people could hardly believe that, with her youthful looks, she actually had a university-aged daughter (with whom Toji could see a strong resemblance, too).

Meanwhile, her large brown eyes scanned the office—the posters, the couch, the nearby mirror—until her gaze landed on Toji and lit up.

“Honey, I’ve missed you!”

Before someone could stop her, the woman welcomed herself into the premises, her lithe limbs swaying with her graceful figure. She sported a simple navy dress that contrasted with her true self because, as far as Toji knew, this woman was anything but simple.

In fact, as she sashayed into the room uninvited, Toji remembered the paparazzi pictures still sprawled on his desk. He caught Sukuna’s maroon gaze and scowled.

This is why I tell you to knock.

Hurriedly, Toji then pushed the photos under some files just as his client seated herself in the sofa seat closest to him. She then turned to her escort in the hall. “Thank you, Sukuna. You’re such a wonderful man.”

She might be oblivious to Sukuna’s irritation, but Toji did not miss the way his colleague hid a gag and rolled his eyes. “M'kay, whatever,” the pink-haired therapist muttered as he slinked back into the corridor.

Then, when Sukuna shut the door with him, she pressed her rosy lips together. “Aw, Strawberry Boy doesn’t want to join us. Guess he likes to play hard to get.”

“Mari,” Toji started, placing his right ankle over the other knee. He rested his back against his chair and held his hands behind his neck. “I do not think neither Sukuna nor any other therapist here is interested in you. Therefore, if you are seeking a summertime fling, I’d suggest you pursue someone else.”

Shot down, an exasperated Mari tossed her dark locks to one side, a die-hard habit of hers. “Like who?”

Like Naoya.

It was hilarious for Toji to think about how he was entangled with his cousin’s mistress, the very same lover in that paparazzi photo with the young executive. In fact, Toji had this theory that Naoya sent Mari here as a Trojan horse, a seemingly harmless client whose actual intention was to gather intel for the Zenin CEO from afar, a pretty façade to lure others into ruins. He didn’t have much evidence to back up the suspicion (yet), but he knew Naoya for long enough to be familiar with the silly games he’d play. Did Naoya and Mari really think that Toji would be so naïve?

“Well, in Tokyo, there are plenty of ways to meet people your age,” he finally suggested and had to suppress a slight smile before adding, “Unless...you’re into younger guys?”

Mari narrowed her eyes but for a millisecond. Had Toji not been at the top of his field, he would not have noticed. Nothing, however, got past him.

“But,” she responded, “I still like you most because you give me your time, Toji.”

Interesting. Because that would mean Naoya had been too busy for his poor sweetheart, hm?

No wonder Mari had been so frustrated. Life must be tough when one was merely the mistress of the Zenin Corporation’s CEO. Not only was Naoya Zenin a mediocre performer in bed, but the homewrecker role also came with no fancy balls, no formal recognition, and—if the affair was well-hidden—not enough public attention either.

Pity.

Toji leaned forward in one fluid motion, resting his elbows on his desk. “Do not misunderstand my intentions, though,” he clarified while lacing his fingers. “I spend time with you because, as your therapist, I am sadly obligated to do so.”

The woman frowned.

“Now, that’s not nice,” she pointed out, allowing her staccato to afflict him with guilt. "That’s not how to talk to your wife, my dear husband.”

And Toji snapped.

“Ex-husband,” he corrected forcefully. His startled client jerked backward in her seat, but that didn’t matter because he had to sternly remind her, “You were the one who filed for divorce, remember?”

Toji liked to think that he was a patient man. Well, he had to be. As he grew up, the pressure that came with the Zenin spotlight taught him to exert self-discipline and emotional regulation, skills that became even more pertinent in his current role.

As a licensed practitioner now, Toji was obligated to treat all clients equally regardless of background. But under no circumstance could he remove all biases when this was the very woman who split up with him, leaving his son Megumi and his stepdaughter Tsumiki under his care. Therefore, she had quite the audacity to keep visiting him at his office and still call him her husband, especially since she was Naoya’s mistress!

How sinister life could be. For years, no one—not even Toji himself—would have seen this coming: how his second wife would leave him, citing ‘irreconcilable differences’ on the divorce papers, only to become his first cousin’s secret girlfriend.

His sudden confrontation, however, must have caught Mari off-guard, for she began twirling at her strands again. “Just because we aren’t married anymore does not mean that I don’t think about you. It’s been so long since we’ve—"

“Three days,” Toji interjected. He had to hold his breath before his annoyance controlled him completely. “The last time you saw me was three days ago. That isn’t much long ago at all.”

The silence that ensued was admittedly awkward until Mari suddenly stood up.

For a moment, Toji had to hide his relief thinking that the appointment would end earlier than anticipated, but he should have known that Mari wouldn’t leave that easily. Instead, she approached him in slow steps, encircling the seated therapist like a vulture.

When she drew near, her hands skimmed up from his brawny arms to his equally well-built shoulder blades, gliding over his lab coat before her warm palms began to knead at his tired muscles.

“I...think about you more than I’d like to admit,” she whispered, an incantation that could set any lustful man’s heart ablaze. Her fingers continued to massage him in slow and circular motions, the gentle pressure over tight knots melting into a calm and comforting rhythm. “I care about you so...don’t be mean to me, alright? The words you sometimes say, they hurt me a lot.”

Her delicate hands crawled up to his chin next, her left thumb tugging at the plush pillow of his lower lip. The most dangerous thing about Mari wasn't how she embodied a young lady’s exuberance with a mature woman’s elegance. Rather, it was her ability to place spells like these. Back when he had less self-respect, Toji might have forgiven her and caved in, her simple but flirtatious touches like trances that could crumble his resolve.

But you still fuck your ex-wife?

Of all moments, your words from weeks ago decided to haunt him now, your revolted expression a clear image in his memory. His heavy-lidded eyes batted quickly as he came to a realization: Why was he doing this?

In the revelation, Toji stopped Mari’s wandering hands from traveling toward his black slacks.

“Mari,” he said very firmly. As he pulled her away from him, his green eyes held her shimmering brown ones. “No.”

“What?” Given the woman’s visible surprise, Toji could also imagine the smoke that fumed from her nose. After all, this was the same man who once would go weak on his knees for her. Mari stepped back, folding her arms defensively. “Why not?”

“You say that my words hurt you, but I would argue that you’ve hurt me far more,” the therapist explained. As he regained composure, he twirled his chair so that he could face his client squarely. “Have you heard? Your own daughter Tsumiki isn’t even returning to Tokyo for her university’s summer break because she is too ashamed to see you.”

“Good!” she shot, surprising the man with her soured temper. “Would not have cared to hear from her either! Tsumiki had always sided with you and your urchin-headed son. But you know what? You’ve changed, Toji. You, and all the other therapists here, too. I don’t know what has been up with you four, but this clinic was far better back when Naoya worked here.”

Toji had a talent for hiding the whirr behind his thoughts, but he could not conceal his surprise this time. Although he wanted to, he never bothered to mention Naoya in his appointments with Mari before. However, it turned out he didn’t have to be the first one to bring up his cousin since Mari did so herself. Had she not reminded him, Toji would’ve forgotten that Naoya was once a sex therapist too, the family pair once working several doors away from each other. 

Since the opportunity already presented itself, Toji took the chance to inveigle his ex-wife. He stood up from his office chair and closed the little gap between him and his glaring client. 

“Let me tell you something,” Toji started, his voice low but steady. “You genuinely think Naoya is all that great of a person? That man has received countless complaints from his former clients about manipulation and derogatory remarks. He’s disrespectful. He’s deceptive. He's a complete con man. Therefore, I would actually argue that our office is much, much better without that elitist and misogynistic asshole.”

Come on, woman. Take the bait. I’m waiting. Three, two...

“Naoya is not that kind of person,” Mari erupted, likely faster and with more fury than she intended.

Well, that was easy. Toji appeared unruffled from the outside, yet he grinned inwardly.

While he paid no mind to how the woman shook her hands from anger and flung a weak fist into his strong chest, he did—however—find more amusement when she added, “Spreading false rumors about your own relative doesn’t make you the bigger person.”

Unfortunately for her, she tended to act and speak before she thought, not realizing that rushing to Naoya Zenin’s side made her suspicious. 

“What? Do my claims about ‘my own relative’ upset you that much?” Toji challenged, quoting her words. He rolled his shoulders back after pushing the woman’s hands from his pectorals. “He’s my baby cousin, so naturally, I have seen his good and bad sides. Just throwing that out there. Unless,” his voice then dropped into a deep bass, “for some reason, you know something I don’t...?”

The inflection in his tone was purposely inquisitive, and he raised an innocent brow with his questions. He could see the emotions that threatened to spill past her walls, from how she furrowed her brows in contemplation to how she pursed her lips in wrath.

But Mari bit her tongue at the very last moment. “No,” she quipped and folded her arms defiantly. “Naoya is not my business.”

Sounded rehearsed, but oh well. The paparazzi photos from their recent Mexico getaway might prove otherwise, though.

“If you say so,” Toji shrugged. 

He was satisfied enough with Mari’s reactions to his cousin’s name, and he liked thinking about how two heartless people had found passion in each other. Just as Toji retreated to his seat, a knock rapped at the door and opened to Geto at the entrance.

“Time is up, boss.”

Even as the appointment ended and was followed by other clients that day, Toji’s mind buzzed into the evening. 

Call him obsessed, but—for himself, for his son, for his stepdaughter, for his colleagues, and for you—he sought revenge. As Toji mulled over his strategy in his home library that night, he could feel himself about to detonate like a time bomb when the apartment buzzer rang unexpectedly.

“Megumi!” Toji’s low timbers boomed, hoping that his son would hear him from his room upstairs. He chased toward the entryway in hurried steps, calling the teenager’s name again because only the boy’s high school friends would be visiting at this hour. Toji swung the door open. “Megumi! Yuuji and Nobara are downst—”

His words vanished when, in the place of two bubbly teenagers, there stood you. 

You raised your gaze from the ground, the overhead lighting leaving a warm glow on your features as you met Toji with reddened and lachrymose eyes.

“Can...we talk?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: 1) For me, this was another challenging chapter to write, as I balanced between introducing the many layers behind our main therapist and inundating you—my lovely readers—with too much information without adequate context. 2) Originally, I had named Mari something else. I changed it because her name eventually reminded me of a different anime character and I didn’t want the association. Haha. 

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan​ @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @moodpi @tokyometronetwork​ @downtown-roponggi​ @the-cosmos-network

[a-dragons-journal]

Humanity and the Lack Thereof

This essay was co-written between Rani and Viridian; Viridian's text is in green and bracketed.

Humanity is an interesting thing.

I am otherkin. I am nonhuman, a dragon-in-human-skin, draconic to my core. I feel phantom wings and tail, the instinctive knowledge of how to breathe fire even though I don’t understand how it works, a bones-deep longing and homesickness for the sky, numerous instincts and urges tied to being something other than human. Many who are like me reject humanity entirely, don’t feel human at all. And yet, I am also human, deeply and truly. I am just as human as I am dragon - I like my human body, I love the things I can do with it (hands, dexterous hands, are a wonderful thing), I overall enjoy my human life. I am nonhuman, but I am not not human.

Viridian, who is watching “over my shoulder” as I write this, is a vampire. She is a fictive, from one of the Vampire: the Masquerade games that I play in, wherein vampires are typically considered to be… on the boundary line between “human” and “nonhuman.” Many vampires cling to their humanity and adamantly consider themselves human; I would go so far as to say this is the norm. Those who do not often become monstrous indeed, though often they do not.

[ I do not consider myself human. I am Kindred, vampire, Cainite. I am part of humanity, as a general populace - but I do not like being called human.

[ I think part of it is that being human is often put in direct opposition to being vampire as a personal identifier. Those who adamantly insist they are “still human” often mean as opposed to being a vampire instead. Being no longer human is, as Rani wrote, often considered a sign of becoming a monster instead.

[ But I worked hard for my Embrace, my being turned into a vampire. I worked to earn the right to call myself Kindred for nearly a decade. And yes, perhaps some of it is that I was taught by my original sire that the Embrace was an ascension above humanity, and that still colors my feelings on my own vampirism even if I acknowledge that he was wrong to consider us inherently above humans. But much of it is that being called human feels like a denial of my vampirism, a rejection of it, and for me that is not empowering - it is denying and rejecting something deeply important to me. Kindred is who I am. Human was only ever circumstantially true, a circumstance of birth - Kindred was something I actively sought out, pursued, chose. ]

Which is interesting, because to a certain extent, “human” is only circumstantially true for me, too. If I hadn’t been born human, I sincerely doubt I would identify as one in the same way that I identify as a dragon despite not being born into a dragon body. I could be wrong, of course - I have no way to prove it either way - but I suspect that if I am correct about reincarnation and I end up in another body after this one, I will not have the same “spillover” of humanity that I do of draconity from my dragon life.

And yet, I am human, and I actively dislike it when people try to strip that from me. Part of that, admittedly, is that the handful that try to see me as only dragon, and reject that I am human, are usually doing it because they’re violently misanthropic individuals, so it’s soured the whole thing for me because the reason they’re rejecting my humanity is so they can try to get me to shit-talk the rest of humanity with them. (If I have to hear one more dragon legitimately, whole-heartedly say that they think humanity should be extincted, I’m going to lose it.) But part of it is that my humanity is important to me, just as important as my draconity. I am both. I’ve written whole essays on this topic.

[ In that way, perhaps we’re not so different after all. I dislike being called human because it feels like a rejection of who I am, who I chose to be; you dislike being called not-human because it is a rejection of who you are. ]

Maybe so. Funny how different societal circumstances can yield opposite results from the same kind of pressures.

I think that part of the discrepancy between us is also that I’m a very physical person. Frankly, I am a chemical creature; I enjoy physicality, I enjoy affectionate touch, I enjoy the physical pleasures life has to offer. I enjoy food. I enjoy sexual pleasure. I enjoy the exhilaration of getting my heart going and my instincts fired up in a self-defense class. I live, I live, I live! is ever a cry of joy in my heart. And a lot of that ties into my animality! I am a dragon animal, yes, but I am also a human animal, and both of these things must be satisfied! The dragon yearns for the wind and the view when I climb up to a height, for the fire of battle I can get out of a sparring match; the human yearns for the taste of sun-warm berries right off the bush, for the warm press of bodies when I hug and cuddle with loved ones. Both of them love a good nap in the sun. I am a physical creature, I am an animal, and my animal-ness connects me to my body and thus to my humanity, rather than separating me from it.

[ Meanwhile, none of this has ever been true for me. Yes, of course I enjoy certain delicacies; I miss my brother’s cookies periodically, it’s true. But I’ve never loved these things the way Rani does. It’s not that I dislike the pleasures of life, but I’ve just… never really cared. It wasn’t much of a loss when I was Embraced, to trade food and sunlight and heartbeat for immortality and knowledge and power. It was almost convenient to not have to deal with the maintenance a living body requires - no excretion of waste, no inconvenient aches or pains or stomach cramps, a frankly much more manageable frequency of requiring sustenance. My body is just a tool, and the Embrace made it more efficient in most ways. And now, after twenty-three years of being dead, being in a living body again is overwhelming in some ways and just downright unpleasant in others. Even most of the physical matters Rani actively enjoys are either overwhelming or uninteresting for me. I am happy to leave the care and maintenance of the body to them. It’s not necessarily that I actively had a disconnect from my human body, originally, so much as that I didn’t have an active connection to it to make me identify with it, and thus my being “human” was, as I said, only ever circumstantial. My becoming Kindred overrode it, and I prefer to leave it that way.

[ Ironic, that the one whose nonhumanity is so human-shaped should be the one to reject humanity, but here we are. ]

Here we are.

[peanutbutterand]

i miss you, i'm sorry; lmh

 in which alcohol and a broken heart prompts you to make a phone call to your ex.

~ Angst with a capital A. 

wc: 1.6K

Reference(s): “I miss you, I’m sorry” written by Grace Abrahams and a line from Notting Hill directed by Roger Michell

~

“I miss you”

The flashing lights seemed to somehow mute the chaotic noise around you. Head hurting, mind overwhelmed, and still, your fingers unconsciously danced across the screen of your phone, typing a number you had deleted months ago.

Some things don’t stay the way they're supposed to. Out of sight, out of mind right? Funny how all logic and rational thinking is suddenly muddled by the denial of a broken heart. 

“y/n.”

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system, you’d cry at the sound of his voice. Instead, the concern in his tone forced a bittersweet smile to form on your face.

He shouldn’t be worried, he shouldn’t have even answered. But he did. And you hated that you knew he would. Because even in your drunken state, it was so natural for you to go back to him. 

“You promised.” 

You felt pathetic. Clinging onto his promises of forever, even when you fought his declarations towards the end of your relationship. The need to be right overpowering the need to be loved.

It was careless, taking everything you loved and disputing it with cruel words driven by a fixed mindset. And he did the same. Hurt people hurt people, because no one wants to be hurting alone. 

You did your best to move on. You really did. It was easy at first, fueled by anger and pinpointing all the blame of your failing relationship on him was something you did with your head held high. 

And then all of a sudden, your pride became too hard to swallow and all the hate you spewed ricocheted in the forms of longing and regret. 

You often found yourself reminiscing about fights in his apartment and the disappointment that came with broken dishes, just to get a glimpse of him.

Because he was always readily available in your mind, whether it be in the form of heartbreak or not. And the extent to which you would willingly fall back into these moments only resulted in any progress of moving on to slip through your fingers.

“y/n, where are you?”

How do you move on from someone who is so deeply engraved into your mind, someone who has touched every part of you with sweet kisses and gentle hands, someone who starts your thoughts and always ends them.

For these reasons, your doubts and hesitations were not baseless. Because how do you move on from someone you once promised forever to? It almost seems wrong to do so. 

“I don’t know what to do Minho. Everywhere I go leads me back to you. Everything I know brings me back to us.” 

There was so much to say, so much you wanted to tell him. It was desperate and embarrassing, but others might say you were simply in love; that you were just a girl, talking to a boy, asking him to love her. 

“Y/n, please….go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Y/n–”

“Every corner of that fucking house is haunted Minho.” 

It was suffocating. Home was no longer home but a place filled with traces of his presence. Bittersweet reminders of the life that once flourished remained in every room.

His coffee cup in the cupboard, his hoodie tucked away in your drawer, the silly love notes he left embedded into your books, his morning kisses, his laughter, his smile, him. 

He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Even in his absence, he was consuming you. So no, you wouldn’t go home, you couldn’t. Because the definition between home and Minho seemed to blur overtime. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore."

The drunken daze was now fading away, your clouded mind becoming overwhelmed with the sober emotions that flowed through your body, because they were one in the same when you were drunk, just easier to handle in a state of intoxication. 

“I thought you hated me.”

Such a statement was not meant to be laced with the gentleness he evoked, so much so, a certain heaviness clung to your chest. For the reminder of the three words you spewed at him the last time you spoke will forever bring feelings of angst and regret. 

“Minho…”

Some things are better left unsaid. Until the time comes when those things are all you can think about, clouding your judgement and cultivating a narrative of missed opportunities guided by the words “what if”.

You had many. And they creeped up on you, leaving you lost in your thoughts of love that you’ll never be able to live, at least, not with him.

But not was not the time to wallow in your self pity and despair. Not after all the time you had dedicated to pondering over the “what ifs” and certainly not when the person these “what ifs” revolved around was here, listening to you. 

“I was angry and upset and desperate to hurt you. I don’t hate you—I never could. I’m sorry.”

The slow sigh that ran after your words displayed your relief more than you intended. Thinking back to the last time you spoke to him was routine for you.

But this time, instead of being tormented by the hurt laced in the memory of that night, you were now comforted by the fact that your truth was now something he knew.

And you weren’t going to deprive yourself of his, no matter how much it may break you. You were in too deep to consider that now. 

“Do I still make you sick to your stomach?” 

It was his turn to let out an audible sigh. And it seems as though you weren’t the only one reminiscing back to that night; for his response appeared to be nurtured with time and consideration.

“No y/n, you never did. You never will. I didn't mean that. I wish I had ever said those words to you, but I did. I’m sorry.”

It’s one thing to say something. It’s another to mean it. And it felt nice to hear he didn’t. You knew he could never have meant it, but the assurance you experienced upon his confession pulled apart the remaining angst embedded in your memories. You could only hope he felt the same.

It was cold outside. Somehow, your feet carried you out of the stuffy place, the moon illuminating the still street, a complete contradiction to your surroundings a few seconds ago. 

The silence seemed to emphasize your acknowledgement of everything that had happened and was happening. The phone pressed to your ear. The quick beating in your chest. The familiarity of the slow breaths he took as you listened. Your boldness. His patience. 

“I’m sorry I called. I know we said we weren’t talking—”

“I miss you too.”

You almost didn’t catch it. His voice low and quiet, almost as if the statement was a passing thought that had slipped past his tongue. But you caught it, as did your denial, that after all this time, he too missed what once was.

A part of you wished your ears had been deaf to his words. Because the way your hand fell to your chest, the way it felt as though your heart had paused, the way tears immediately lined your waterline, was the same way you recognized exactly how much you missed him.

One step forward and three steps back is the damage his words did. But you started it first, and it was only fair to finish what you started. 

An absent smile lined your lips with tears falling down your face. Your tears were warm against your cold skin and you so badly wanted the warmth to stay.  

“Everything we were scared of happening, happened Minho.”

“Nothing happened in the way we wanted Y/n.”

Your absent smile turned bittersweet, fingers gently grazing your cheek in an attempt to catch the warmth from your eyes. You were right. And he was too. They say that nothing that is meant for you will ever get away, so why did he?

“Is this better for us y/n?”

It’s hard to make peace with something you don't entirely agree with. He hurt you more than anyone else has. But he loved you better than anyone ever did. 

“I don't know. I’m still confused.” 

Your eyes shut, squeezing what was left of your tears out. 

“I do know that I was really happy with you, we were happy together. And we were really good to each other.”

You went into this conversation with hope and uncertainty. It was only normal for that hope and uncertainty to cultivate into doubts and hesitation. He didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Not now. Not ever. 

“But….”

“But we’ve been here before. And I want to love you because I love you, not because I need you— I missed you Minho…..I miss you. I’m sorry.” 

And in an instant, no sound came from his phone. Your voice, gone, as if it were never there.

Gone before he could familiarize himself with the highs and lows of your tone. Gone before he could tell you to not cry, for he recognized the tell tale signs that you were. Gone before he could say everything he wanted to say and more. 

And perhaps that's why he continued to hold the phone to his ear, head falling to the back of his couch as he allowed the words he meant to say to you, the second your name appeared on his phone, break free from his lips.

Barely a mumble, but with his whole heart and all his truth. 

“I still love you, I promise.”

[aziraphales-library]

How about fics featuring denial of their love? Or that explore specifically Aziraphale's denial.

You can check our #denial of feelings and #not actually unrequited love tags for fics like this. Here are some more to add to the collection...

What friends are for by Melime (T)

Back in his shop after evading Furfur, Aziraphale starts to wonder about Crowley's new name, and almost comes to a realisation.

But The Smoke Clears When You're Around by midnightdragons (T)

“Mhm,” Crowley mumbled, before closing his eyes, curling back up around Aziraphale, and promptly falling back to sleep, one hand hooked loosely around the angel’s middle, his face pressed into his chest. Aziraphale looked down at him, his heart seizing in his chest, and gently hugged him close. “You are silly, my sweet boy,” he whispered breathlessly, sparing a single chaste kiss to the demon’s forehead. “And I . . .” Love you, he wanted to say. Wanted so badly to say it, to reveal it to the world, if only for a single moment. After the Armageddon that wasn't, Crowley can't rid himself of the trauma caused by a certain event, and shields himself with defensive anger and a mask of irritation. Aziraphale convinces him that it's okay to rest and recover. (Alternatively: purely sleepy intimacy, comfort, and fluff, accompanied by the lingering scent of smoke in a bookshop.)

Everything by IneffableDoll (G)

“Oh angel, I’d wait to the end of the world.” Two love confessions, two thousand years apart. Denial is a heck of a thing.

reply to my tenderness by losttrackofmysoul (T)

In the beginning, there had been Crowley, Aziraphale and the Garden containing the start of human kind. A couple centuries later, the red string of fate appeared and things got easier for humans and vastly more complicated for a certain angel, specially when he discovers his own string, which shouldn't exist in the first place, is tied to the demon he's known for 6000 years.

Nothing Else Matters by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

When two angry Archangels drop by the shop, Aziraphale pleads with Crowley not to intervene. After surviving a harsh punishment, can Aziraphale be honest about why Crowley’s safety is so important to him? And can Crowley work though his guilt for not protecting Aziraphale?

Definitions of Love by organizechaos (T)

Aziraphale thinks that all the abuse and trauma he endured in heaven is ‘love’. After being freed after the apocalypse, the angel is beyond happy. He wants nothing more than to spend eternity with Crowley but the demon is ready to put a name to their feelings. They both know that they care for each other deeply and when Crowley finally has the courage to put it in words (‘I love you’), it sends Aziraphale spiraling into believing Crowley will start treating him like heaven did. "We- we don't have to pretend anymore.” Crowley stuttered out, golden eyes looking frantically about the angel. His sunglasses were clutched tightly in the palm of his hand, “The apocalypse is over, it has been for years. Can't we- can't we say it now?" his voice wavered only slightly. "I don't love you, Crowley." Aziraphale emphasized each word to better help the demon understand. He had never truly loved something in all his years of existence, he didn’t think he was capable. To love another being — especially Crowley... "I could never love you."

- Mod D

[grapejuicestyless]

The Tide Always Goes Out

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

ANGST

Summery: You were sick. You had always been sick. But you looked so healthy, so it couldn’t be true. Conrad could live in denial of his best friend’s inevitable death but there was nothing he could do to stop it and he has to accept it.(Inspired by the book Little Women specifically the scene in the 2019 film between Beth and Jo.) Mentions of illness and death.

We sat on the beach squished on a small blanket. wrinkles from our shifting and creases beneath us from where we sit. We talk about everything and anything all morning. Not minding the grey overcast of the clouds covering the usually very blue sky. Or how the waves are more violent than they usually are. I know this because I remember it vividly. It wasn’t that long ago I was really there. Making sure it would last forever. Only now I wish I hadn’t because it haunts me more than it comforts me. And the entire way it played out still makes my heart ache with regret.

Somehow I end up with her lying over me. She lays her head in my lap, the thin blanket woven together with faint reds and oranges creating a little hammock for her to rest on. I can feel the way her heartbeats erratically over my thigh. The way her lip’s curl into a soft smile. The ocean reflected in her eyes. If it weren’t for the heavy eye bags and the slight tremble in her bones, she’d be normal. A normal girl with no issues. You wouldn’t even know how deeply her suffering ran. Sometimes, on the better days, I let myself become fooled as well. Playing dumb hurts less than facing the truth.

“Con.” Her eyes flick up to mine, and I can’t help the way my own avert her gaze. I am too afraid to face her. Even now. The girl who I worship day and night. I never did pray before her, but now I pray that when I wake up, she’ll still be beside me. And we can enjoy the company the other has to offer just one last time. I can’t look down and see how much she’s changed. It scares me, because the traces of the illness torturing her is evidence to how real it is. And I would rather live in oblivious bliss.

“I want you to know I’m not really scared anymore.” It’s not what I expected to come from her lips, but it’s what she lands on. Theres no room in her wording for me to deny what she’s trying to say. My eyes flick down to hers, and my hands moves the hair blowing in the wind messily across her face.

“Y/n, come on. Don’t say shit like that.” I smile, but I don’t really mean in. I don’t find her words funny, and I don’t like that my best friend is sick.

“No, Conrad. I’m serious.” She breathes out, hands pressing against my skin to lift herself up. I feel a chill run through my body without her warmth to ease the morning chill. More than that, I can feel the coolness in my heart when she separates from me, and I long for the next moment I’ll feel her gentle touch.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and I’m certain that I’ll be okay.” I continue to look at her, but only this time, she is the one looking at the sand, tracing her fingers in it as they stretch past her ankles to the floor.

“And I’m only so sure because I know you’ll be there.” Her eyes flicker up to the sky and I swear I see the sky brighten for just a moment. The blue underneath all the grey breaking free for a split second. “I’ve known you my whole life, and I’ve felt things for you that I have felt with no one else. I know you, and I trust that you’ll come find me in the next life.” Pulling at her lip, she waits for a response.

“But I want to keep you in this one.” My hand finds hers and all I can do is squeeze onto her desperately. Wanting nothing more but to keep her close. So I can watch her. Make sure shes okay. She’s lost all of her fight, her will to stay. And I know it’s because of the pain. I’ve heard her sobs just down the halls and the hushed whispers of my mother and her’s. But part of me wonders if it’s simply because I did not do enough. If I wasn’t enough reason for her to stay.

“It’s like the tide going out. It goes out slowly, but it can’t be stopped.” And we both know it. Theres no stopping what will happen to her. Theres no wish or medicine or fight that could keep her here beside me. It makes me want to cry, but I don’t. It would be selfish of me to get so upset when I am still here. Well and alive. Promised many years to age and achieve things she never was given the chance to.

“I’ll stop it.” I don’t look down at her, but I can feel how she shifts. The way her frown only deepens and the bags in her eyes get heavier. She sighs heavily into the silence, shaking her head slowly. She refuses to cry though. Partly because I know she knows she’ll have plenty of time to cry in the darkness of her room, when the ache in her bones is too much and theres no way of stopping it. And the other part of me recognizes that it’s because there’s no reason to in her eyes.

Y/n knew it better than all of us. She had lived a good life. She could do things and want things some children could never even dream of. She had a warm home with a glowing fireplace that her family often gathered around. A loving sister and a great brother. Her mother and father were healthy and she had the best friends she could have ever asked for. Her only regret is that she had to make her own mother pick out the details for her headstone.

When I pull her into my body, I have no idea it will be for the last time. I have no clue that her sobs won’t part from her lips. Because when she closes her eyes, she doesn’t drift into her usual place of rest. Her eyes don’t flutter open at the soft creak of the stairs when Jeremiah decides he wants a late night snack. Nor does she stir when Steven laughs, following behind him not as skillfully.

Not even when her mother screams early in the morning, hands clinging to her limp wrists, cold and lifeless. The tears from my mother mixing with her younger sisters don’t even make her flinch. And it’s chilling because it almost looks like she was smiling. The lift of her lips is barely there, but it makes me feel better knowing she went in peace.

I remember that day more clearly than ever. How the grey sky haunts me and the way she spoke so surely about her death still sends chills through my veins. I could have only wished to have looked at her a little closer that day. So that even in her darkest moments, I could be as certain as she was that the image of her would never fade, and I would always be able to memorize each wrinkle in her skin.

So I tell myself that when it’s my time, I’ll do what she said I would. I’ll find her in the next life. And I’ll look a little harder at her, and I’ll admire her for longer.

[ellana-ravenwood]

Why don’t you visit my dreams anymore ? - Jason Todd x fem!reader

Synopsis : A story about grief, and how to (try to) overcome the pain of losing a loved one. 

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

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Jason had been your first love. And you were sure he would be your last. It was impossible to replace someone like Jason Todd. 

Never before did you love someone like you loved him. 

And oh, oh he loved you back so beautifully. 

Some would say it was a young and silly love, that you were both still too young to be sure you had found “the one”. After all, it was rare for people to stay forever with their high school sweetheart. 

But you both felt it. You were both adamant that this was it. You’d never find someone else, who could love you as deeply as he did, and vice versa. 

True love, it was. 

And whomever saw you two together, couldn’t doubt that. 

And so what if you were just fifteen ? (Almost sixteen !) It was just so obvious to you two, that you were destined to be together. Your relationship was still young, but you had always been best friends, since as long as you can remember. And things were still very much at the “teenage cutesy love” stage, but it was such a profound love. 

Your love was the kind of love that happens once every century, the kind that is so strong and deep, it inspires great stories that will never be forgotten. 

That’s how it felt to you. 

Forever. 

Only, Jason’s forever was cut short. One night, you received a call from Alfred...

“Master Jason is gone.” From the way the butler’s voice cracked, there was no doubt in your mind what this meant. Never before, did you feel such a visceral pain. 

DENIAL

“No. You’re wrong. It’s not possible ! Why are you lying to me, Alfred ?”

“Lady (Y/N) I-” 

There’s a short pause, and a tiny sliver of hope grows in your heart. Yes. This must be a joke. A sick joke, yes, but maybe this was just that “British humor” so many people spoke of ? 

“Lady (Y/N), I’m sorry. I do not know what to say...” 

Alfred ? Speechless ? No. 

“This is not possible. He can’t be gone. We’re supposed to celebrate his birthday next week. I bought him a gift. How can I give it to him, if he’s gone ? He can’t be. You’re lying.” 

Complete refusal. This wasn’t possible. Your Jason would never leave you. He would never. HE WAS JUST FIFTEEN !! 

“I’m sorry...” You hear again, before slamming your phone against the wall. You didn’t want to hear any of it. Those were blatant lies. You didn’t have time to waste with that. 

Decidedly, you put a coat on, and went to Wayne Manor. 

************

You never even rung the door. 

When you arrived, you felt a certain vibe. Like something was not right. Like something was missing. 

Someone, was missing. 

There was light in the library room. A place you knew for a fact, only Jason used. And once again, you felt hope. Those dark feelings were just your imagination ! You were going to run up to the window, and scare the hell out of him by tapping on it ! Now that, would be an actual funny joke. 

Not like the one Alfred made. 

A smile on your face, you go on your tip-toes, and you peek into the room and-

It’s not Jason. 

It’s his dad. 

He’s sitting in that same armchair Jason always sits in. He holds the blanket Jason always wrapped around himself while reading, and he-

He holds it against his face. And you don’t have to see it to know that the man is crying. 

Bruce Wayne is crying. 

This isn’t a joke. 

Jason is really gone. 

But in dreams 

You cry yourself to sleep, of course. But then-

Then a miracle happens. Because he’s there, right in front of you. And he reaches a hand towards your tears...He touches your face. Wipes the tear away.

“You’re really here.” 

You tell him, and he smiles at you. But it’s a sad smile, one full of guilt and regrets. One that you’re not used to see on his face. 

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I’m not really here. This is a dream.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“It’s the truth...I don’t really know how I came here. I just really wanted to see you one last time.”

“Don’t say that, Jason. Please.” 

“You know, if I had become a grown up, I would have married you. I mean it. I don’t think the day would happen, that I would stop loving you.” 

“Why are you telling me this ? You can be such a jerk...”

You turn away, tears once again welling up in your eyes. Your heart is bleeding, and in that dream, you’re not sure whether it’s literally, figuratively, or metaphorically. It’s confusing. But he’s here. He’s here. 

“It’s just- I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back. I have so much I want to tell you. I have so much-”

“Stop it !” 

You throw your arms around him, and squeeze him against yourself. Not about to let go. You don’t want to ever go. He doesn’t finish his sentence, sighs, and squeeze you back. 

“Guess I’ll just have to come back...” 

He says, and then you don’t remember what happens. You just wake up in your bed, and the overwhelming feeling of sadness almost gets the better of you...

ANGER

Why you ? This wasn’t fair. THIS WASN’T FAIR ! Everywhere, you see him. He’s all over the news, and everyone talks about this “tragedy”. 

None of them knew him. None of them. Journalists want to talk to you, as it was known you were his girlfriend...But then, they suddenly disappear, and you’re sure it’s thanks to Bruce. 

Bruce. 

You used to spend a lot of time at the Manor. When you lost Jason, you also ended up losing his dad and Alfred, who had become akin to a family for you too, who never really had one.

That’s how it clicked so fast between you and Jason.

Two children who had to grow up too fast. But you were both lucky. He was adopted by Bruce, and you by the most wonderful parents you could hope for. After all the hardship you went through together, you deserved a happy ending !

So this wasn’t fair. THIS WASN’T FAIR !! 

You were pretty sure you had always loved Jason, even if, when you were children, you never realized it. The feelings weren’t the same, of course, being kids. It’s only recently you admitted to loving each others...Only recently...

Too soon. It was too soon ! You barely had anytime together ! 

You were so damn angry. At everything and everyone. You started to isolate yourself, not talking to your parents, or to any of your friends. 

You lost your appetite, you lost sleep (which was a nightmare, as only during your sleep could you see him again), you lost all will to do anything. 

And you were so angry, all the time. Angry about everything. 

But most of all, you were angry at Bruce Wayne. He didn’t even call you, or come see you !! You thought he cared about you, you thought he-He was Jason’s dad. You were close because of that. And he didn’t even tell you himself. He didn’t even come see you !! 

You could talk about Jason together, or reminisce good times. He could tell you exactly what happened, as the explanation you got were somewhat shady. He could- Why didn’t he want to talk to you ?? 

So angry. So angry it hurts. It hurts...

You couldn’t wait to be asleep, so Jason would visit you again. You knew he would come. He came to you every night. And then, then you could pretend like none of this was real. Like he was alive and well. You talked, kissed sometimes, and just enjoyed each other’s presence...It was such bliss. 

So much better than this waking nightmare, in which you felt so alone. 

************

Bruce couldn’t face you. 

He felt so guilty, and angry at himself. He was the reason Jason died. He was the reason Jason died !! The boy was just fifteen !! HE WAS JUST FIFTEEN !! 

He had such a long life ahead of him. With you at his side. Bruce’s boy always talked to him so much about you...

Ever since he first came in his life. You used to be “his best friend (Y/N)”, the “most wonderful person on earth !”. And then one day, you became his girlfriend, and Bruce saw his kid smile so much. He almost believed-

He almost believed he succeeded. That Jason wouldn’t be like him, that he would have a better life, that he would be allowed to be happy. 

And then he got killed. Because of him, because he let him be “Robin”.

Fifteen. 

His boy was just fifteen...

BARGAINING 

You could see him in dreams. 

Surely, it meant he wasn’t truly gone, right ? 

“My life for his !” You’d ask-Anyone. Anything. 

God. Gods. Entities. Any higher powers who could help you. 

They could take you, if they brought him back. They could-

But then, he would be in your place. He would be the one suffering. And you couldn’t bear that very thought. You couldn’t- 

“Please. Please just, make my dreams last longer. Or make it so I never wake up again, and I can stay with him forever. Please. I beg of you...” 

DEPRESSION

It lasted a long time. A year or two. 

You just, went by. 

Feeling numb, tired, hopeless, helpless. 

You lost all perspective of a future. Everything was a struggle, and living in a world without Jason felt like torture. 

It was as if you just floated through life. High school graduation came, and you had no memory of it. You weren’t planning on going to college. And those past two years, were spend mostly alone...You hated how people looked at you with pity. You hated it. 

One year. Two years. It had already been two years, since you lost Jason. Time was suppose to heal all wounds, no ? Absolute bullshit. It felt as difficult and hurtful as when you first received that phone call. 

Jason was gone. How could you ever feel happy again ? 

It was only at night, that things felt right again. You’d spend a lot of your time sleeping, because Jason would visit you every single time. He would come in your dreams. 

He said he shouldn’t, that you had to move on. He said he should stay away...But he couldn’t. He didn’t have the heart to never see you again. He couldn’t leave you alone, he said. 

Yet whenever you would wake up, and come back to reality...He wouldn’t be there. 

He would never be there again. 

And then one day, Bruce Wayne knocked on your door. You would learn later, that your parents called him for help, hoping he could bring you some comfort as you both went through the same kind of pain...

************

“Jason would’ve-He would’ve liked for you to have this.”

It were journals. About ten of them.  

Jason’s diaries...You knew he wrote, a lot. You knew. But you never imagined you’d be able to read those. 

Bruce knew, that by giving you those journals, he would reveal his secret identity. But he felt he owed you that much. That you needed the closure. 

You needed to know it was his fault. Bruce, in a way, was trying to punish himself. If you hated him enough, then maybe it would makes things right. Maybe you’d be able to move on. 

He stayed with you, as you read pages and pages of Jason’s neat handwriting. Most pages had a least one paragraph about you. From age 8, and his approximative writing, to age 15, dated on the day of his death...he talked at least once about you, every single day. 

It made you heart so warm. 

Ah. It’s as if you almost forgot, so obnubilated by your dreams. But your Jason was so full of life, and love, and kindness. He was so-

Jason. He was the most incredible man you ever met (although he would never become quite a man). He was-

Tears. But this time, it wasn’t as much tears of sadness, as it was relief. Happiness. Born from countless good memories, and the knowledge that you would never forget him. 

You would love Jason Todd forever. You knew that. He couldn’t fully leave your heart. 

“Thank you.” 

You say, and Bruce is confused. He was so sure you would hate him ! After all, it’s because he was Batman, that his son died ! 

“Thank you for giving him the love every child should have from a parent. And for giving him a home. For taking care of him.” 

He feels his throat squeeze painfully. No. No this wasn’t- How could you look at him with such a gentle smile ? 

Holding Jason’s last journal against your heart, you dried some of your tears before saying : 

“It really sounded like, he was so happy with you. So, thank you. Thank you so much for being there for him. Thank you, Bruce.” 

What is this ? Why are you being so kind to him ? He’s-He’s the reason his boy died ! He doesn’t deserve your thanks. He doesn’t-

He feels the tears welling up in his own eyes, as he stares at you in disbelief.

And you understand. You know how he feels, how he thinks it’s his fault. You know. But you cannot hate him. Because he did, love and care for Jason. And he did, give many great years in a warm home to him. And-

You were certain he couldn’t stop Jason. Your boyfriend was born to help others, you always knew it. He couldn't stop him from becoming Robin. On the contrary, letting him take that mantel fulfilled Jason’s true purpose, you were sure of it.

The fact the man came all this way here, fighting his own grief, just in the hope to make you feel better. To actually save you, and help you move on...It was enough for you. Even now, Bruce still looked out for Jason. 

Because of course, Jason would hate for you to be so sad. He told you himself, in your dreams. He couldn’t bear to see you sad, defeated, heartbroken...He said he would do something for you and-

Ah. Did he send his dad for you ? Did he visit him in a dream, and ask for him to give you his journals ? That was entirely possible. After all, it’s been two years since every single night, your dead boyfriend would invite himself in your dreams. 

And you were sure it was him, and not just a figment of your imagination. Call it a gut feeling. The world had seen weirder things...

Yes. 

Hating Bruce wasn’t the way, you knew it. 

And ah, little did you know that this knowledge lodged in your heart would one day save a certain man wearing a Red Hood... (but that’s, for another story ;))

ACCEPTANCE

“Why don’t you visit my dreams, anymore ? 

Please. Come back. I love you. I miss you.” 

It’s been weeks, and weeks, and weeks. He hasn't come back to your dreams, and it felt like this time- 

He was truly gone. 

“Why don’t you visit my dreams, anymore ?” 

A question you’d ask yourself many times. Was it because you finally started to find some peace ? Because you finally started to heal, in a way ? 

You could never truly heal. You would never forget him. But you felt like...You still had a lot to live for. That he would’ve wanted you to keep goin. After all, he told you himself, in your dreams. 

But he wasn’t coming anymore. Was he trying to finally let you move on ? Was he sacrificing his own wish to see you, so you could move forward with your life ? 

Could be. Or maybe it really were all dreams, and you finally accepting his death unlocked something in your subconscious, that made it think you didn’t need to see him anymore ? 

But you missed him. So much. 

“Why don’t you visit my dreams, anymore ?” 

A question that would remained unanswered...For now. 

A love that transcend death. 

Finals week. 

After Bruce’s visit, you finally slowly came out of your depression. Finally slowly came out to the world again. 

And you applied for Gotham’s college, hoping to get a degree in forensics (maybe feeling a little inspired by a certain “Batman”). You wanted to keep Jason’s legacy on, you would carry the torch for him. 

Jason never got to grow old, never got to do so many things...You felt like i was your duty, to also live for him. 

And so, that’s why you were coming home very late that night, after you spend hours and hours at the library, studying. You had to nail those finals ! 

Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice those less than amenable men walking towards you ? Engrossed in your revision, you only saw them too late. 

But of course. A mugging in Gotham City. How original. 

However, before they could even utter a word to you, a big red mass fall on them. 

You didn’t have any other words to describe what just happened. It really felt like a giant in red just stomped their face. 

Said giant turns to you, and you know you should feel fear, yet-

You recognize that stance. The way those hands lay on his sides. And though you cannot see his face, as he’s wearing a mask, you know the shape of his eyes, as he looks at you. 

You know who this is. It seems impossible, and yet...The world has seen weirder things, right ? 

Explanations would come later. Or never, really. They were not important, right now. 

“Ah...That’s why you disappeared from my dreams.” 

************

In the night, two silhouettes runs towards each other. 

Their hands find each other, their lips too. 

A tight embrace between two beings who had always been destined to be together, so much so that even death couldn’t keep them away from each other forever. 

Because their love, was forever. 

In the night. 

Two silhouettes embracing each other, never letting go again. 

And this time, it wasn’t just a dream. 

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Here we are. Wrote fast (didn’t re-read myself or I wouldn’t post it..), not very well in a way, but I hope you still liked it. Yes. A short story I felt like writing, as I had a dream about someone I lost long ago, and it felt so nice, to see them in my dream, that...here we are :).

I hope you liked it. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, as per usual.