#FIVE stories from the same source

[ryin-silverfish]

So You Want to Read More about Chinese Mythos: a rough list of primary sources

"How/Where can I learn more about Chinese mythology?" is a question I saw a lot on other sites, back when I was venturing outside of Shenmo novel booksphere and into IRL folk religions + general mythos, but had rarely found satisfying answers.

As such, this is my attempt at writing something past me will find useful.

(Built into it is the assumption that you can read Chinese, which I only realized after writing the post. I try to amend for it by adding links to existing translations, as well as links to digitalized Chinese versions when there doesn't seem to be one.)

The thing about all mythologies and legends is that they are 1) complicated, and 2) are products of their times. As such, it is very important to specify the "when" and "wheres" and "what are you looking for" when answering a question as broad as this.

-Do you want one or more "books with an overarching story"?

In that case, Journey to the West and Investiture of the Gods (Fengshen Yanyi) serve as good starting points, made more accessible for general readers by the fact that they both had English translations——Anthony C. Yu's JTTW translation is very good, Gu Zhizhong's FSYY one, not so much.

Crucially, they are both Ming vernacular novels. Though they are fictional works that are not on the same level of "seriousness" as actual religious scriptures, these books still took inspiration from the popular religion of their times, at a point where the blending of the Three Teachings (Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism) had become truly mainstream.

And for FSYY specifically, the book had a huge influence on subsequent popular worship because of its "pantheon-building" aspect, to the point of some Daoists actually putting characters from the novel into their temples.

(Vernacular novels + operas being a medium for the spread of popular worship and popular fictional characters eventually being worshipped IRL is a thing in Ming-Qing China. Meir Shahar has a paper that goes into detail about the relationship between the two.)

After that, if you want to read other Shenmo novels, works that are much less well-written but may be more reflective of Ming folk religions at the time, check out Journey to the North/South/East (named as such bc of what basically amounted to a Ming print house marketing strategy) too.

-Do you want to know about the priestly Daoist side of things, the "how the deities are organized and worshipped in a somewhat more formal setting" vs "how the stories are told"?

Though I won't recommend diving straight into the entire Daozang or Yunji Qiqian or some other books compiled in the Daoist text collections, I can think of a few "list of gods/immortals" type works, like Liexian Zhuan and Zhenling Weiye Tu.

Also, though it is much closer to the folk religion side than the organized Daoist side, the Yuan-Ming era Grand Compendium of the Three Religions' Deities, aka Sanjiao Soushen Daquan, is invaluable in understanding the origins and evolutions of certain popular deities.

(A quirk of historical Daoist scriptures is that they often come up with giant lists of gods that have never appeared in other prior texts, or enjoy any actual worship in temples.)

(The "organized/folk" divide is itself a dubious one, seeing how both state religion and "priestly" Daoism had channels to incorporate popular deities and practices into their systems. But if you are just looking at written materials, I feel like there is still a noticeable difference.)

Lastly, if you want to know more about Daoist immortal-hood and how to attain it: Ge Hong's Baopuzi (N & S. dynasty) and Zhonglv Chuandao Ji (late Tang/Five Dynasties) are both texts about external and internal alchemy with English translations.

-Do you want something older, more ancient, from Warring States and Qin-Han Era China?

Classics of Mountains and Seas, aka Shanhai Jing, is the way to go. It also reads like a bestiary-slash-fantastical cookbook, full of strange beasts, plants, kingdoms of unusual humanoids, and the occasional half-man, half-beast gods.

A later work, the Han-dynasty Huai Nan Zi, is an even denser read, being a collection of essays, but it's also where a lot of ancient legends like "Nvwa patches the sky" and "Chang'e steals the elixir of immortality" can be first found in bits and pieces.

Shenyi Jing might or might not be a Northern-Southern dynasties work masquerading as a Han one. It was written in a style that emulated the Classics of Mountains and Seas, and had some neat fantastic beasts and additional descriptions of gods/beasts mentioned in the previous 2 works.

-Do you have too much time on your hands, a willingness to get through lot of classical Chinese, and an obsession over yaoguais and ghosts?

Then it's time to flip open the encyclopedic folklore compendiums——Soushen Ji (N/S dynasty), You Yang Za Zu (Tang), Taiping Guangji (early Song), Yijian Zhi (Southern Song)...

Okay, to be honest, you probably can't read all of them from start to finish. I can't either. These aren't purely folklore compendiums, but giant encyclopedias collecting matters ranging from history and biography to medicine and geography, with specific sections on yaoguais, ghosts and "strange things that happened to someone".

As such, I recommend you only check the relevant sections and use the Full Text Search function well.

Pu Songling's Strange Tales from a Chinese Studios, aka Liaozhai Zhiyi, is in a similar vein, but a lot more entertaining and readable. Together with Yuewei Caotang Biji and Zi Buyu, they formed the "Big Three" of Qing dynasty folktale compendiums, all of which featured a lot of stories about fox spirits and ghosts.

Lastly...

The Yuan-Ming Zajus (a sort of folk opera) get an honorable mention. Apart from JTTW Zaju, an early, pre-novel version of the story that has very different characterization of SWK, there are also a few plays centered around Erlang (specifically, Zhao Erlang) and Nezha, such as "Erlang Drunkenly Shot the Demon-locking Mirror". Sadly, none of these had an English translation.

Because of the fragmented nature of Chinese mythos, you can always find some tidbits scattered inside history books like Zuo Zhuan or poetry collections like Qu Yuan's Chuci. Since they aren't really about mythology overall and are too numerous to cite, I do not include them in this post, but if you wanna go down even deeper in this already gigantic rabbit hole, it's a good thing to keep in mind.

[parkerslatte]

Fated Meetings

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: none.

Summary: Since the babysitter Y/N usually hires had to cancel last minute, Y/N is forced to take her four year old daughter to a ball in the Autumn Court. While Y/N gathers drinks for her and her daughter, she finds her missing and in the arms of a certain High Lord.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Y/N held onto her daughter, Sapphira’s hand tightly as she and the rest of the Inner Circle entered the ballroom. It was not ideal to bring Sapphira along to such a high profile event and it was not a good idea to expose her to such powerful fae at only the young age of five. But Y/N had no choice. The usual babysitter was away in another court and with no one she could leave Sapphira with at the last minute, Y/N was forced to bring her along. 

Of course, Sapphira hadn’t minded in the slightest. When she was born Rhys had spoiled her with glittering gowns fit for a princess. No matter how hard Y/N insisted he did not need to give her small little family anything, Rhys insisted. With nowhere to wear her elaborate gowns, Sapphira only wore them around her own bedroom and whenever Y/N read her a princess story. The young girl always pictured herself within the story, dancing with a handsome prince. Once Y/N told her she could wear one of her gowns to an event, Y/N was sure she had never seen her daughter so excited. 

Y/N glanced down at Sapphire and smiled at her daughter. The young girl’s gaze constantly bounced between everything that moved and glittered. But Y/N couldn’t blame her, she was doing the exact same thing. It was her first time in the Autumn Court and it was nothing if not beautiful. Even more beautiful than Velaris, Y/N thought. 

As the Inner Circle branched off around the ballroom, Y/N looked to her daughter. “Do you want a drink?”

“I want to dance!” Sapphira exclaimed. 

Y/N looked to the dancefloor and found it vacant, with the exception of a singular elderly couple. Y/N did not want to risk Sapphira being so exposed like that. 

“What about later?” Y/N suggested. “They might play that music you love later.”

Sapphira thought about it for a second, her brain ticking. Y/N would have loved to know her thought process. 

“Okay, mummy,” Sapphira said.

Y/N smiled at her daughter and squeezed her hand lightly. “Let’s get you a drink.”

Y/N led Sapphira to the drinks table and reached for two cups of water. If Y/N did not have Sapphira with her, she would have indulged in the champagne that was being offered. But tonight Y/N wanted to be on high alert in case anything happened to Sapphira. 

Y/N pulled Sapphira to the side of the room and leaned against the wall while she sat down on the floor. People around her glanced back at the two, some with disgust and Y/N glared at them. 

“Y/N?” A voice startled Y/N as she lightly jumped back. 

Y/N turned to the source of the voice and she smiled. “Lucien!”

Y/N wrapped her arms around the youngest Vanserra and greeted him warmly. She had always liked talking to Lucien and she always enjoyed how he was around Sapphira. Y/N knew of the hard time he had settling into the Night Court so she always made sure to make him feel welcome. 

“I have not seen you in forever!” Y/N exclaimed, stepping back from Lucien. “Is the Day Court treating you well?”

Lucien smiled. “As well as ever. I’m currently bouncing between there and here. Ever since Eris became High Lord, he made one of his priorities to repair our relationship.”

“And how is that working out?” Y/N questioned.

Lucien sighed, though it was content. “Surprisingly well, considering everything.”

“It’s good he is working on fixing everything between you,” Y/N said. 

“After he explained everything, I feel as if I understood him better,” Lucien said. “I could see hints of the brother who used to play with me to distract me from Beron when I was a child.”

Y/N smiled. “I think you would have been a difficult child.”

Lucien gasped. “I was not. I believe I was quite delightful, perhaps even more delightful than your own child.”

“You could never be more delightful than Sapphira,” Y/N said, smiling. “She is the sweetest child in the whole world.”

“I cannot argue with that,” Lucien said, a glint in his eye. “How is she? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean? She’s right here–”

The space where Sapphira was sitting on the floor was now vacant. All that was left was the cup of water that was still full. Y/N’s heart began to beat faster as panic rose within her. 

“Sapphira!” Y/N exclaimed, scanning the room for any sign of her daughter. 

“I can go and see if she has left the ballroom,” Lucien said, suddenly serious. “Do you want me to inform Azriel? He could probably find her quickly.”

“No, do not inform anyone from the Inner Circle. If they find out she is missing, it will turn into a bloodbath here and I don’t want Sapphira seeing that,” Y/N said. 

Lucien nodded before taking off. Y/N did the same and began the search for her daughter. 

***

It had been roughly five minutes or Y/N thought before a young maid tapped her on the shoulder. 

“Yes,” Y/N said, quite sharply. 

The maid flinched slightly but did not back away. “I believe I have just passed your daughter in the gardens, just through those doors there. She looked an awful lot like you.”

Y/N looked at the large glass doors leading to the beautiful gardens outside. Of course her daughter would sneak away to one of the most beautiful places in the court. Y/N said a quick thank you to the maid before she quickly left in the direction of the doors. 

As she slipped out, the sound of the ballroom faded away and was replaced by the slight breeze and distant chatter. One of the voices extremely familiar. Y/N frowned and hurried in the direction of the noise. As soon as Sapphira was safely back in her arms, she was leaving the court immediately. 

“See those hills over there?” The unfamiliar voice asked softly.

“Yes,” Sapphira answered.

“Those hills are special because they are home to the rarest flowers in the whole of Prythian,” the voice said. A masculine voice. 

Y/N only walked faster. 

“See at a certain time every night, they glow, not for long but long enough to light up the entire hill.”

Sapphira gasped. “I want to go there!”

Y/N closed in on the pair. The figure was holding her daughter in his arms and Y/N wanted nothing more than to put an arrow through his head. She was not very good at wielding weapons, preferring to do the healing of a wound rather than inflict it, but if he did not put her daughter down, she would suddenly become the best archer in the whole of Prythian. 

The man chuckled. “You will need to ask your mother. Speaking of which, you should go back inside–”

“That is right, Sapphira. Get away from him,” Y/N spoke up. 

As soon as Y/N spoke, the man turned around and Y/N gasped. The man holding her daughter was none other than the High Lord himself. Eris Vanserra. 

“High Lord,” Y/N said, dipping her head. “I didn’t know–”

“Y/N, please, there is no need for formalities,” Eris said and set Sapphira down on the floor. 

“How do you know my name?” Y/N questioned.

Eris smiled softly and Y/N swore it was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. “Well my little brother speaks of you a lot and this one,” Eris nodded his head to Sapphira who was brushing down her gown, “speaks a lot about you.”

“Mummy, can I stay outside with Eris, please? He is really nice!” Sapphira said, running up to Y/N and tugged on the bottom of her dress. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, briefly glancing at Eris. “I’m sure he is busy.”

“In fact I am quite free,” Eris said. “I dread to go back indoors.”

Y/N stepped closer to Eris. She had never spoken to him before. Though the Inner Circle have spoken about him a lot, none of the comments were too positive. Though the demeanour of the male standing before her contrasted the image she had conjured up in her head. 

“Isn’t this whole ordeal for you?” Y/N questioned. “Isn’t that the whole reason me and my daughter were dragged here?”

“Dragged?” Eris questioned. “I believe your daughter was more than ecstatic to come tonight.”

Y/N looked down at her daughter. “How much did you tell him? You have only been gone ten minutes.”

“She did not stop talking,” Eris said. “Barely let me get a word in.”

“She is normally shy around new people,” Y/N said as her daughter stepped around her legs and closer to Eris. 

“I’m the eldest of seven children,” Eris said, “I’m good with kids.”

“Please can we stay out here a little longer, mummy? I like it here!” Sapphira said, pulling Y/N closer to Eris.

Despite the darkness, Y/N couldn’t help but admire Eris’s beauty as she inched closer to him. His copper hair was immaculately styled on the top of his head, a single strand falling in his eyes that she itched to push back. 

“I suppose we can stay here a little longer,” Y/N muttered.

Sapphira expressed her delight while Eris only smirked. “Perfect. I can show the two of you around the gardens.”

“In the dark?” Y/N challenged.

“You seemed to admire something else in the darkness,” Eris said, his voice loud enough for only Y/N to hear. “Though I can’t guarantee that the gardens are as beautiful as your view currently.”

Y/N flushed and stepped away from Eris. “Well, show the way, High Lord.”

Eris smiled and held out his arm for Y/N to take. “It would be impolite of me to not offer you my arm.”

Y/N glared at him before wrapping her arm around his. Sapphira walked just ahead of them, eager to see the rest of the gardens. 

***

Y/N watched Sapphira run around between all of the hedges fondly, she had never seen her daughter look so happy. Currently, her and Eris were situated on a bench, he lounged upon in, completely relaxed. His jacket was unbuttoned and the crown that was situated on the top of his head was in Sapphira’s hands. 

“We should get back inside soon,” Y/N said, turning to face Eris. 

“You said that ten minutes ago,” Eris teased, crossing one of his legs over the other. 

Y/N flushed once more and turned to face her daughter, who stopped to admire a large rose bush. “I know, but she is so happy out here. She has always been a happy child, but out here…it's different. Our small apartment doesn’t have a garden so Sapphira doesn’t really have anywhere to play.”

Eris studied her for a moment. “What do you do for a living, Y/N? I don’t believe Lucien has ever brought it up.”

“I’m a healer,” Y/N replied. “I help out the Inner Circle quite a lot.”

“You speak about it like you are not part of it,” Eris remarked.

“I’m not,” Y/N replied. “I just attend any matters in other courts in case a healer is needed urgently. I’m not particularly close with anyone except Azriel, he is the one who introduced me to Rhys and Feyre.”

Eris let his gaze fall to Sapphira. “And Sapphira? I assume she is not a healer.”

Y/N laughed. “No, and she would make an awful healer when she grows up, and she has never taken an interest in it. I didn’t have a choice but to bring her tonight, my usual babysitter is in the Winter Court visiting family.”

Eris smiled and Y/N was sure that the image of it would be burned into her memory. “I assume her father is busy.”

The smile from Y/N’s face faltered. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since the moment I knew I was pregnant with Sapphira.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Eris apologised. “I didn’t know.”

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile. “Not many people do. We were together for three years and when he noticed my shift in scent, he was gone before I even realised what was happening. Only Azriel knows the real truth, and now you do too.”

“Well I say that he missed out,” Eris said, leaning closer to Y/N, “on an amazing daughter and her gorgeous mother.”

Y/N didn’t look away from him, in fact her gaze fell to his lips. But just as she caught herself she looked back to his eyes, only to find a hint of amusement in them. “Well, if he stuck around then I wouldn’t be talking to a rather handsome High Lord, would I?”

This time, Y/N was the one to surprise Eris. He cleared his throat and looked away. “We should go back inside.”

“Look who’s eager to get away now?” Y/N teased. 

Eris tilted his head as he leaned closer. “Sweetheart, I would need to be dragged kicking and screaming to be pulled away from you. But this whole event is still about me and there are most likely many guests wondering where I have been.”

“I–”

“Mummy!” Sapphira exclaimed. “Can we go and dance now? You said I could dance later.”

Sapphira ran to where Y/N and Eris were sitting, still clutching Eris’s crown. Y/N stood from the bench, her arm brushing Eris as she did so, she hadn’t realised how close the two had gotten during their conversation. 

“Of course, sweetie,” Y/N said and held out her hand.

“Is Eris coming?” Sapphira asked, looking up at Eris with wide eyes. 

Eris smiled and stood to his feet. “Of course.”

Sapphira smiled wide and gripped onto Y/N's hand and then Eris’s and began to drag them with all of her strength back to the ballroom. 

Y/N leaned closer to Eris. “You don’t need to come with us, if you prefer to be out here, you can say no to her.”

“Like I said, there are most likely plenty of people who are wondering where I went,” Eris replied. “And wherever you are going, I will follow.”

Y/N looked away from Eris just as Sapphira dragged them through the doors to the ballroom. There were still plenty of people inside and there were plenty of people on the dance floor. 

“This is where I must leave you both,” Eris said. “It seems that my brother is trying to get my attention.”

Sapphira looked up at Eris. “Please stay.”

“Sapphira, Eris is busy and needs to get back to his duties,” Y/N said. 

Eris looked at the young girl and bent down to meet her height. “How about this? Once I finish my duties for the evening, I will come and dance with you and your mother?”

“Eris you really don’t–”

“Yes please!” Sapphira exclaimed. 

Eris smiled and Y/N swore that she would melt. “Perfect.”

Sapphira held out Eris’s crown to him. “This is yours.”

Eris gently took the crown from her hands. “This crown always looked silly on me.” He placed the crown on top of Sapphira’s head. It was too big for her but her hairstyle kept it in place. “Why don’t you hold onto it for me? Remember this is a very important job.”

Sapphira’s eyes lit up. “I will protect it!”

Eris smiled before standing up. “I will see you later, Y/N.”

Y/N could feel many eyes on her as Eris spoke to her but she couldn’t find it within herself to care. “I will see you later, Eris.”

After bidding goodbye, Y/N thought Eris would simply leave to attend to his duties. However before he left he gently took Y/N’s hand in his, his skin soft, and brought her hand up to his lips, pressing his lips against her knuckles for a lingering moment. Her daughter giggled happily at the gesture while Y/N only held onto Eris’s hand tighter, something within her wanted him to stay. 

When he released her hand, Eris’s gaze lingered upon Y/N for a moment longer before he turned and walked away, creating a path through the many dancers on the ballroom floor. Y/N watched where he left, a lovestruck expression on her face which was only interrupted by Sapphire gripping onto her hand. 

“Are you going to marry him?” Sapphira asked.

“What!” Y/N exclaimed, looking down at her daughter. “Of course I’m not.”

Sapphira giggled happily and pulled Y/N’s hand. “I want to dance!”

With one last glance in the direction Eris disappeared, Y/N nodded. “Let’s go then.”

***

“This better be important,” Eris said as he neared closer to Lucien. 

“I see you were the one who found Sapphira,” Lucien said. “Y/N was worried sick about her.”

“I was in the gardens,” Eris said. “If anything she found me. Now, what was so important you needed to drag me away from a beautiful woman. Isn’t your mate around here? Shouldn’t you be entertaining her instead of pestering me.”

“Elain couldn’t make it tonight,” Lucien said. “And do my ears deceive me or did you say that Y/N was beautiful?”

“You certainly didn’t mention that in your stories about her,” Eris said. “And nor did you mention that Sapphira’s father isn’t in the picture.”

“Well I have a mate,” Lucien said. “My loyalty resides with Elain, I cannot go around calling other females beautiful now, can I? And you brought up Sapphira’s father to her? I knew you hadn't entertained the company of many females in the past few years, Eris, but who knew you were incapable to woo one without bringing up past failed relationships.”

“Oh, shut it,” Eris sneered at his brother. Lucien only laughed. “Is this the only reason why you called me over here?”

Lucien took a sip of his wine. “Yes. After all, I have been mentioning her quite a lot around you as of late. I thought you might need a push to talk to her and I gave you one when I secretly told Sapphira to go into the gardens earlier to find you.”

Eris glared at his brother. “You sent Sapphira out to me?”

“I did. I saw the look in your eyes the moment Y/N entered the ballroom and how quickly you left,” Lucien said. “That look in your eyes, I know you felt it. That snap.”

Eris sighed. “Can we not talk about this now?”

“We will talk about it now or you will avoid it,” Lucien said. “I knew you would like her but I never thought she was your mate, Eris.”

“Well it clearly hasn’t snapped for her, so please don’t bring it up to her until I am ready to tell her,” Eris pleaded with his younger brother. 

“Tell her, Eris,” Lucien said. “I know Y/N and I know that she deserves love, a real home. And I know that you crave the same. Tell her, from what I can see, she likes you too.”

Eris looked out at the ballroom and spotted Y/N and Sapphira instantly. Y/N looked so carefree dancing with Sapphira and Eris could only smile at the sight. That golden thread connecting him to Y/N tugged him toward her. He took the first few steps on his own. Everyone else in the ballroom seemed to disappear as Eris took a few more steps. As he continued to walk towards her, Y/N looked up at him. 

Eris felt like his heart stopped beating. The pull toward her became stronger and stronger. She was beautiful. The most beautiful female he had ever seen. The moment he had seen her walk into the ballroom he thought that. And the moment he felt the bond, he was overcome with emotion. He had left the ballroom to the safety of the gardens to process everything. Until a young girl approached him and he instantly knew who the child belonged to, he could see it in her features, she looked exactly like her mother. And she was the one to bring his mate into his life the moment she disappeared from the ballroom.

“Eris?” Y/N’s voice interrupted his thoughts. 

He hadn’t noticed but he was now standing back with Y/N and Sapphira. 

“Yes?” Eris said.

“Have you finished with your duties for the night?” Y/N asked. 

Eris nodded. “I have. Now I am yours.”

Y/N smiled and Eris. “Just for tonight, of course.”

The wide smile on Eris’s face faltered. “Yes, just for tonight.”

“Eris, can you dance with me?” Sapphira asked, gripping onto the edge of Eris’s jacket. 

Eris looked at the young girl and his smile returned. She still wore his crown and it now sat crooked on top of her head. “Of course. Will you join us, Y/N?”

Y/N shook her head. “All of this dancing has worn me out. I will get a drink for myself. I trust you to look after her.”

Eris grasped her hand in his. Sparks flew at their connection. “I will join you after we dance.”

Y/N chuckled. “Good luck trying to get her off of the dance floor.”

Eris smiled and brought his other hand up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. He allowed his hand to linger on her cheek, caressing her face gently.  “I will try my best to get her back to you in a timely manner.”

Y/N smiled and Eris swore she leaned into his touch. “Again, she will dance until she falls asleep,” Y/N replied.

“Then I’m afraid we will be here all night because I, too, love dancing,” Eris said. 

“You will need to show me some of your dance moves sometime,” Y/N said, her hand caressing his wrist. 

Eris smirked and leaned forward, his breath brushed her face. “I will happily show you anytime.”

“You better,” Y/N said.

“Eris, can we dance now?” Sapphira asked.

“Of course, give me just a second,” Eris replied. He turned back to Y/N. “I will see you later, Y/N.”

Before she had the chance to respond Eris pressed a kiss to her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. Y/N didn’t respond as Eris stepped away, sweeping Sapphira in a dance in the centre of the ballroom.

***

Y/N remained still as she watched Eris and Sapphira dance, many moved out of the way to not disturb the High Lord. Though many gave the High Lord questioning looks as he danced with an unfamiliar girl. Y/N’s heart was racing.

“Y/N?” Azriel asked, approaching her. “Are you okay?”

“Eris…” Y/N began, but words failed her.

Azriel’s gaze followed Y/N’s and he went rigid. “Why is he with Sapphira?”

“He–” Y/N cut herself off as she finally tore her gaze away from Eris and Sapphira to look at her friend. “Azriel. Eris is my mate.”

Azriel’s head snapped to Y/N’s. “Your mate? That is not possible.”

“It is,” Y/N said. “I feel it. I feel him.” Y/N placed her hand over her stomach, feeling where the tug was coming from, connecting her to Eris. 

“Does he know?” Azriel asked, placing a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said. “He hasn’t mentioned it.”

Y/N returned her gaze to Eris and Sapphira and her heart melted at the sight. Sapphira stood on Eris’s feet as he walked her through a dance, a carefree smile on his face. “He is so good with her.”

Though Azriel was still tense, his gaze softened as he looked at the joy on the young girl’s face as she danced with Eris. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Azriel asked once more.

“I think so,” Y/N admitted. “I am just shocked. I never thought I would have a mate.”

“I’m shocked too,” Azriel muttered. “Considering it’s Eris of all people.”

Y/N gently hit his shoulder. “He is a good male.”

“And you have figured that out from one conversation?” Azriel questioned.

Y/N shook her head. “I know because of how he treats Sapphira.” Y/N nods her head to the two still dancing, Sapphira with a wide smile on her face. “Be honest and say you have never seen her that comfortable around a stranger before.”

Azriel looks at Sapphira and Eris. “I haven’t.”

Y/N smiles. “And that is how I know that he is a good male. Because my daughter is an excellent judge of character.”

Azriel sighs. “Just be careful.”

“There is nothing to be careful of,” Y/N said. “But to put your mind at ease, I will be careful.”

Before Azriel has the chance to respond, Eris interrupts the conversation, carrying Sapphira in his arms, her eyes slowly closing. “I believe your daughter is ready for bed.”

“I’m not…” Sapphira mutters, as her eyes droop once more, her head resting on Eris’s shoulder. 

“I can take her back home,” Azriel offers.

“Or I could have a room set up here?” Eris suggests, looking at Y/N. “It saves you returning home too.”

There is something in Eris’s eye that Y/N could only describe as pleading. He wanted her to stay at the Autumn Court for the night. Y/N couldn’t think of any reason why she wouldn’t want to. “Only if it’s not too much hassle.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Eris answers. “I can take you both to a guest room. The finest I have to offer.”

Y/N smiled. “Honest anything will do, Eris. I’m sure that you have more important guests who will need that room more than us.”

“My two most important guests are right here,” Eris said. “Now, shall we get going?”

Y/N looked at Azriel, who she had only just realised was still standing there. “Tell Rhys where I am?”

Azriel looked at Eris, his gaze hard. Eris only stared back at the shadowsinger, nothing in his eyes to suggest any ill intent. Azriel relaxed. “I will see you when you return, Y/N.”

The shadowsinger left, not before giving a warning look to Eris. The High Lord cleared his throat. “Well, shall we get going now?”

Y/N nodded. “Lead the way.”

As Eris tried to hand Sapphira over to Y/N, the young girl clung to his jacket, seemingly not wanting to leave Eris. Eris sent Y/N a panicked look. Y/N smiled at him. “It’s okay. When she is sleepy she always clings onto people she trusts.”

The touched expression on Eris’s face was enough for Y/N to feel a pull on the bond between them. The quicker she had Sapphira asleep in a bed, the quicker she could tell Eris about the bond. 

Eris led her down a variety of hallways and Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from the beauty of it all. “If Sapphira were awake she wouldn’t want to ever leave.”

The smile on Eris’s face was small but Y/N didn’t miss it. “You are free to visit anytime.”

Finally the two stopped outside of two large doors, Eris pushed open the door with one arm and gestured for Y/N to enter. The room was large with a king size bed in the centre, draped by a crimson canopy. Solid gold was shaped into patterns on the bed frame. Y/N was sure that it cost more than she made in a year. There was a seating area beside a fireplace, pillows and blankets rested upon the sofa and made Y/N want to snuggle up there with a good book in her hands. 

But the most stunning feature of the whole room was the windows. They were floor to ceiling leading out onto a secluded balcony allowing for a view of the Autumn Court. Y/N couldn’t help herself but gasp. 

“You cannot seriously be allowing me to stay here?” Y/N asked. 

“I am,” Eris said, walking over to the bed. “Only the finest room for my most important guests. I have some spare clothing for Sapphira if you wish to change her. I am sure my mother kept clothing from when myself and my brothers were children.”

“No, it’s okay,” Y/N answered. “If you wake her now, I will never get her back to sleep.”

Y/N joined Eris at the bed and watched as he placed her gently down upon the soft covers. The care in his movements was unlike anything Y/N had seen before. No one except for her had held her daughter with such care before. Eris gently tucked her under the covers and pulled the blankets up as she snuggled into them. Y/N leant against the bedpost. 

“What?” Eris asked as he noticed her staring. “Like I said, I’m good with children.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s not that.”

Eris smiled and approached her. “What is it then?”

“It’s just…I have never seen someone care so much for her before. I know the Inner Circle loves her but they have never held her or gone so much out of their way to make her smile like you have tonight,” Y/N said. “Thank you, Eris.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Eris said. “Don’t ever thank me for something as simple as making your daughter smile.”

“She just never warms up to new people as quickly as she did to you,” Y/N said. “She really likes you, Eris.”

Eris looked at his feet for a brief moment before gesturing to the sofa by the fireplace. “Shall we sit?”

“Don’t you need to return to the ballroom?” Y/N questions. 

“I have disappeared from these events before,” Eris explains. “No one will miss me. If they do, Lucien will deal with them.”

Y/N took a seat on the sofa and Eris sat next to her, his thigh brushing against hers. The pull within Y/N made her shuffle closer, seeking as much contact as possible. She craved it. 

“Eris, there is something I need to tell you,” Y/N said, suddenly serious. “It might be a lot to take in and I really don’t want you to run from the room screaming in fear.”

Eris chuckled. “Whatever you are about to tell me probably is not going to match the news I need to tell you.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh. “Earlier, when you kissed my cheek, something snapped into place. A mating bond. You are my mate, Eris.”

For a brief moment, Eris stilled and Y/N was afraid that he would end up running from the room. But her fears were not brought to life as Eris began to laugh quietly. Y/N frowned. “What is so funny?”

A warmth enveloped Y/N’s hand. She didn’t need to look down to know that it was Eris’s own hands. 

“The news I wished to share with you is the same as yours,” Eris said with a smile. “I felt it too. The moment you walked into that ballroom. That snap I never thought I would feel.”

“And are you…happy about it?” Y/N asked, holding her breath. 

Eris frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be happy? Y/N, I never thought I would be blessed with a mate, let alone someone as beautiful and incredible as you. I never thought I deserved it.” Eris caressed her cheek as he leaned closer to Y/N. “But now that I see you Y/N, you are everything I have ever wanted. Deep down I always craved a mate, I always craved to be loved by someone unconditionally and the mother has blessed me with you. I must be the luckiest male in the entire world.”

Y/N’s eyes watered. “Oh, Eris.  You really mean all of those things?”

“Of course I do,” Eris said. “I have only known you a short time, Y/N. But everything about you I admire. And you are someone I could easily fall in love with.”

Y/N placed her hands on Eris’s chest, her fingers gripping onto the lapels of his jacket. “Eris, you must realise that Sapphira will always be part of my life and she is the most important thing to me. You say you want me, but you have to want her too.”

Eris rested his forehead against Y/N’s. “Y/N, I already know. And I already adore Sapphira, she reminds me a lot of Lucien when he was younger, before my father–” Eris cut himself off. “What I am saying is that I have already accepted her. If you choose me too, I will continue to provide for her. Whatever she wishes I will try my damn hardest to make that wish come true.”

Y/N smiled. “Don’t spoil her too much.”

“So do you accept me as your mate?” Eris asked. “Obviously we don’t need to accept the bond until you are ready. Of course not until we tell Sapphira everything, because if she doesn’t accept it then I will gladly step back and–”

“Eris,” Y/N said, cutting him off. “I accept you as my mate. I may have only known you a short time but from how you are with Sapphira tells me all I need to know about you. You are a good male.”

Eris looked into Y/N’s eyes and Y/N already had a new favourite colour. Everything about this felt right to her. It was as if everything around her had fallen into place and this was what she was destined for. A life with Eris, raising her daughter together. 

“May I kiss you?” Eris asked, hesitation evident in his voice. 

“Yes, you may,” Y/N replied.

Without any hesitation, Eris pressed his lips against Y/N’s and she could feel the bond tighten between them, pulling them into one another. Eris’s arms wrapped around her body as Y/N caressed his face, her hands brushing over his stubble before moving up to tangle in this hair. The kiss was nothing but perfect. 

The only thing that interrupted Y/N and Eris was a small mumble from Sapphira. Y/N pulled away and shot to her feet to check on her daughter only to find her still fast asleep, mumbling incoherently. Y/N sighed and sat back down on the sofa, she leaned into Eris. 

“Do you think I could borrow some of your clothes?” Y/N asked. “I don’t think this dress will be very comfortable to sleep in.”

Eris’s eyes scanned over her body. “I do have some clothes you can borrow, though it will be unfortunate not to see you in this dress any longer.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and leaned closer to him, her lips brushing over his. “If you play your cards right, I may just wear this dress again. Just for you.”

Eris smirked. “Is that a promise?”

“It will be after you get me some clothes,” Y/N answered. 

Eris got to his feet and left the room swiftly and Y/N only giggled lightly at his hasty departure. He was back only moments later with a pile of clothes in his arms. 

“You were quick,” Y/N commented, standing to her feet. 

“My room is only across the hall,” Eris answered, a faint blush coating his cheeks. 

Y/N took the clothes from his arms. “Thank you, Eris.”

Eris nodded and took a step back. “I should get back to the ballroom to tell everyone the event is over.”

“Yes you should,” Y/N said.

“I should be going now,” Eris said, still remaining where he is standing. 

Y/N is the first to give in. She dumped the clothes on the chair and pulled Eris into her, planting her lips on his. It was an addicting feeling already. Eris held onto the back of her neck deepening the kiss, bending over Y/N causing her to tilt her head back. If Eris wasn’t holding her up, Y/N was sure she would collapse from the sheer amount of emotions coursing through her veins. Some were her own and some were Eris’s, that golden thread connecting them doing its best to convey what the other thought of one another. 

Y/N gripped onto Eris tightly not wanting to ever let go. On one hand she was grateful that Sapphira had been allowed to come along with her, she had not seen her daughter as smiley as she was tonight in a while. But on the other hand Y/N wished that her usual babysitter was available so she could pull Eris down onto the bed and continue what they were doing all night, preferably with no clothes obstructing their bodies. 

Y/N was the first to pull away, panting for air. “We should stop. I don’t want to get carried away.”

Eris brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Me neither.”

Y/N kissed him again. 

However this time the kiss did not last long at all as a quiet young voice cut through the air. 

“Are you going to get married?” Sapphira’s voice was like a bucket of ice cold water poured over both Y/N and Eris, causing them to jump apart. 

Y/N turned to face her daughter. “No, we aren’t Sapphira. Eris and I…we were just helping each other with our hair.”

Sapphira huffed. “Can you get married? I like Eris.”

Eris looked down at the floor, his face bright red. Y/N chuckled lightly. “Okay, Sapphira, I think you should get back to sleep. It is late and you need to be rested for tomorrow.”

“Will Eris be here tomorrow?” Sapphira asked, pointing at Eris.

Y/N perched on the edge of the bed next to her daughter. “Of course he will.” Y/N turned to face him. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Eris smiled. “I will be here bright and early tomorrow, Sapphira.”

Sapphira smiled sleepily and yawned. Y/N brushed her daughter's hair from her face and watched as she fell back into a peaceful sleep. Once she was asleep, Y/N laughed and approached Eris. 

“Well you have Sapphira’s blessing,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Eris pulled her closer by her hips and rested his arms lazily around her. “And I’m glad to have it.”

Y/N hugged Eris. “Goodnight, Eris. I will see you tomorrow.”

Eris hugged her back. “Bright and early.”

Y/N smiled and pecked his lips quickly. “My mate.”

Eris smiled. “My mate.”

Reluctantly she let go of Eris and allowed him to leave the room. Before the door closed he turned around and blew her a kiss. Y/N smiled at the lopsided grin on his face before the door closed completely. 

Y/N changed into the clothes Eris had given her. They smelt of him and Y/N wrapped her arms around herself. She climbed into the soft bed next to her daughter and swiftly fell asleep, dreaming about her future life with Sapphira and Eris. 

[lordprettyflackotara]

till dawn || eyeless jack || part three

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. TW: LOTS OF PLOT, being chased teehee scary, unrealistic demon sex bc be so honest w yourself that’s why you’re here, breeding kink, bondage/choking kink. there will be one more part, a finale to this lil series :’) i think for my next series for the creeps im gonna go with either jeff or masky, haven’t decided yet. ANYWAYS, enjoy!!

the finale to till dawn is here

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, threatening to burst through your rib cage.

The sound of crunching leafs echoed behind you, one set of footsteps in particular on your heels. Eerie laughter filled your ears as you threw one foot in front of the other, desperate to get away.

You had decided to follow Jack once he left your house. It wasn’t a logical thing to do, knowing that from what Jack talked about other beings like him existed. You knew Jack was a one of one and so were the others he told you stories about. He promised to introduce you to them someday, but not today.

Curiosity got a hold of your better judgment, causing you to slowly trail behind him. Curiosity was about to kill the cat. You could feel your lungs burning, a whooshing sound flying past your ear. You gasped as a rusty axe had been thrown into the tree beside your head. It had nearly nipped you, your ear millimeters from the blade.

What you didn’t realize, was that the moment you walked into these predators territory, you’d become the prey.

Jack knew you had followed him. He was fine with you doing so. Up until now, he had assumed the Supernatural borders prevented any human from entering. As an animalistic growl escaped his throat, weaving through the trees, he realized he had never been more wrong.

Toby was close behind you, Jack could hear his mouth twitching with pride as he got closer to you. Your presence had alerted every creep within a five mile radius, none of them aware of who you were. It was Jacks job to stop them from getting to you, ignoring the loud drum of your heartbeat. Thankfully Jack was the fastest, his killing style driven by animalistic primal hunger. He was gaining distance on Toby, reaching one hand out and grabbing him by his hair.

You forced yourself to not look back, to not question the sudden silence of your purser. Typically you thought of yourself to be a decent runner, now realizing track in high school could’ve never prepared you for a situation like this. Once all you heard was silence, you allowed yourself to slow down. Panting, you leaned against the sharp forest bark of one of the trees. Everything around you looked the exact same, like a never ending loop.

It was official. You were lost.

The sound of rushing water intrigued you, your eyes darting in each direction to find the source. Despite the eerie feeling of being alone in such a dark forest, you felt like multiple sets of eyes were watching you. Stalking you. Hunting you. The moonlight dimly lit the forest floor, your feet carrying you in what you believed to be the direction of the river. You had been camping before, the sounds of bugs or owls having previously been a comfort.

But here, in this forest, there were neither of those things. You trudged towards the river, a large river bank coming into view. The water was harsh as it crashed against the rocks below it. Murkiness and darkness prevented you from seeing the bottom of the river, unaware of how deep it was. Or from seeing what creatures lurked below.

Jack was close to catching up with you, his focus on Jeff and Jane as they slowly closed in on you. Jane was nimble, using her small frame and agility to swing through the trees. As Jack watched them both close in on you, it occurred to him neither of them realized the other was present. If the situation wasn’t so dire of your safety he’d watch in amusement just to see what happened next. Jeff went for the kill first, Jacks body flying forward to stop him. But Jane had beat him to it.

The loud crashing sound behind you caused you to jump, instantly turning around. A man and woman, whom you could almost think to be siblings, were visibly fighting in front of you. “What the fuck Jane? Can you not see i’m doing something here?” The man growled. Unsettling crimson blood dripped down the carvings on the side of his face. His cheeks were mutilated beyond belief, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

Fight or flight was not crossing your mind, your body frozen in fear. “I found her long before you did dipshit,” Jane snarled. Knives occupied both of their hands, her unsettling, soulless black abyss for eyes glancing at you. “She’s a cute one, I can see why you wanted the kill. Sadly she’s mine Jeffrey, all mine,” She smirked. Jack went to intervene, the overwhelming sound of two more heartbeats stopping him. Shit, Masky and Hoody. Surely Slender had sent the proxies to check on the situation, Toby beating them due to his speed.

Jack felt conflicted, trying to rationalize what to do. If he intervened Jeff and Jane now, he would have to take both of them on as well as the proxies. His gaze landed on the two pale killers, both of them still bickering. But, if he managed to stop the proxies fast enough, he could come back and retrieve you. The proxies wouldn’t be hard to find, their heartbeats and smell practically giving Jack a map. He felt awful leaving you, the petrified look of horror written across your face as you watched the fight in front of you.

As the sound of the proxies grew closer, Jack turned around, chasing after the sound of pounding hearts.

“You always do this! I find a good kill and here comes Jane!” Jeff argued. Jane rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault we have the same type,” She debated. Slowly you tried to back away, hoping they’d be so involved in their debate they’d forget about your presence. “You’re such a bitch, always copying me and my shit, find another hobby will ya?”Jeff spat harshly.You swallowed as you kept your eyes on them, trying to figure out if you could out run them.

Snap.

Both sets of eyes landed on you, your blood running cold. You could feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, everything in you screaming to run. Their eyes contained a certain unnatural hunger, the kind that would only be satisfied by watching you bleed. “You know, the more I think about it, maybe we can call it even just this once, since it’s a special occasion,” Jeff said softly, glancing at Jane. As his eyes moved you noticed that he didn’t blink, his never ending gaze shifting back and forth. His eye sockets were hollow, your mind struggling to make sense of his rancid appearance. He had no eyelids?

“Maybe we should, how often do humans stumble through our forest like this?” Jane replied, chuckling. The two had seemed to come to a decision, moving in unison. They seemed to be patiently waiting for a chase, waiting for you to run. As you turned your back you heard an animalistic growl, one that you could only assume came from one of the pale killers.

What you didn’t realize, was that Jack was ready to rip Jeff apart limb by limb. The two pale killers were blindsided, Jane gasping as she fell to the ground. The demon had Jeff pinned to the ground, snarling above him. It was forbidden to kill another creep, especially on Slender’s grounds. “EJ what-” Jeff began babbling, the animalistic snarl from Jacks throat silencing him. Jane scoffed as she stood up, brushing off her dress.

“If you wanted the kill yourself there’s no sense in being so dramatic, just say so,” She quipped. Jacks gaze stranded from Jeff, settling on Jane as she fully regained her confidence. Jack was never one to hurt a lady, so instead he came up with a different solution. Standing up fully he picked her up, harshly gripping her arms as he tossed her into the nearby river.

You could hear her screams of despair as you continued running into the forest. Whipping your head around to look behind you, for the first time since you had entered the land of terror no one was following you. Your legs burned, your mind spinning. You felt dizzy, your vision beginning to be clouded with stars. The only thing you had on you was your phone. Shakily you took it out of your pocket, thumbing in the password.

Who would you even call? Jack didn’t have a phone, you had no service. You sighed, blankly scrolling between the apps you couldn’t use. Your eyes widened as your screen went black. Did it die? On seventy nine percent? You tilted your head to the side as a camera came into focus, a young blonde man with black and red eyes staring back at you. “Oh wow, hello there gorgeous! EJ sure does know how to pick em huh?” He asked. His pointy ears twitched. That was the final straw. You tossed your phone onto the ground, stomping on it with your boot. The glass shattered, your once prized possession now garbage.

Tilting your head back you let out a pained sigh. How long was it before these maniacs caught up with you? Looking around you found a decent stick. In comparison to the knives and axes the others were equipped with it would be nothing, but you’d go down fighting.

Snap.

You quickly turned around, gripping your stick tightly. Wincing as the wood cut the palm of your hand, you braced yourself. Swallowing, you tried to find the noises creator. A gush of wind breezed past you from a different direction, your eyes darting to your left. What if they were all circling you? Like a pack of wolves? What if this was in the end?

In the dull moonlight you were able to make out a tall figure, your fight or flight kicking in. Hastily you rose your stick, slamming it down on the shadow in front of you. A large hand grabbed your stick, snapping it half, before sending you on the ground. Your collision with the ground knocked the air out of your lungs, your back hitting the dirt below. Instinctively you began thrashing, a strong set of hands pinning you down.

“Hey, hey, HEY, calm down! Look at me!” Jacks voice was firm, filled with worry. Were you going insane? Seeing Jeff was definitely enough to make someone do so. He didn’t want you to end up like Nina. You blinked a few times, Jacks mask long discarded. Blood dripped down his nose, staining his upper lip. A gash sliced across his cheek, the same crimson paint dripping down his gray skin. “Jack?” You panted.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, Jacks attention temporarily preoccupied as you attempted to catch your breath. His mind returned to normal the moment you began rambling.

“Holy shit there was a guy with an axe who sounded literally like a ticking time bomb and then this like mutilated albino couple wanted to kill me as well and then this dwarf-”

Jack gripped your shoulders, shaking you.

“Why would you come here? Do you understand how difficult it is for me to protect you here?” He panted. His body was becoming tired. Sprinting across Slender forest and fighting off all of his friends was exhausting, even for him. Your eyes were widened as his hands gripped you harder unintentionally. “You single handedly alerted every monster in the goddamn area that there was fresh meat on the market,” Jack continued. You winced in pain as his grip tightened.

“Jack, you’re hurting me.”

His eye sockets widened, the demon releasing you. He stayed on top of you, the two of you blankly staring at one another. “You’re bleeding,” Jack commented. The deeper he inhaled the stronger the scent became, electric cravings crawling across his skin. You didn’t have a chance to tell him where it was coming from, the demon grabbing your wrist to examine your palm.

The blood wasn’t bad, a small stream dripping down the precious little lines of your palm. To think that when he wanted to, he could hunt down whoever he wanted. That truly, you belonged to him. No matter the danger that he created or that others around you did, he was able to restrain himself. To protect you. The scent of your blood made his stomach flip, his body flooding with desire. Your legs shifted under him, your body becoming warmer as he touched you.

Your voice was low, a desperate whisper, “Jack…”

The worry that clouded Jacks mind was washed away by the sound of your soft voice. The only sound that could calm him down and make him feel at ease,was the enchanting sound of you saying his name. You yanked his hoodie, desperately bringing his lips to yours. Your blood soaked into the clothing, a groan escaping Jacks throat.

The delicious sound of your heart beginning to race flooded his ears, his hips slowly grinding on yours. You whimpered, pawing at his hoodie to bring him impossibly closer. Your lips melted against his, submitting to his rougher desperate kisses. His large hands slithered up your shirt, squeezing and kneading at your breast. You groaned into his mouth, the demon trying to be careful as to not nip you with his teeth.

“Here?” You panted, whimpering as he pushed up your bra. Jack kissed down the side of your neck gently, the throbbing pulse of your throat almost too much for him to handle. “I’ll make it quick love, I just need to let everyone in a five mile radius know who you belong to,” Jack huffed, bringing your right nipple into his mouth. You felt his multiple tongues attack the bud, his name spilling from your lips. With a pop he released your nipple, kissing down your stomach.

“How long until they come looking for us again?” You asked nervously, Jacks nimble fingers quickly unbuttoning and sliding down your jeans. He looked up at the sky. “I’d say till dawn,” He guessed. You giggled as he repositioned himself between your legs, your jeans shoved down to your ankles. “Guess you better hurry up then,” You say. His slender fingers began teasingly rubbing your slick through your panties, the thin cloth drenched.

“Let’s make sure you can take me first you troublemaker,” Jack teased, grinning at the sound of you moaning for him. He slid two of his slender fingers in front of you, your walls squeezing him as he curled them inside of you. Desperately you bucked your hips upwards, throwing your head back as he hit your g spot. “All that running made you awfully sensitive, huh?” Jack joked, relishing in the sight of you grabbing at his wrist, the one that was connected to the hand inside of you.

“Jack, fuck, please,” You whined. Jacks eye sockets widened.

He hesitated, “Please what?”

Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, the humiliation of him making you say what you needed settling in. “Please fuck me,” You pleaded, your voice cracking. Jacks hands were quick to work on his belt, the sound of the metal clinking sending a chill down your spine. You bit your lip as you eyed the leather, Jack noticing. A devilish sadistic thought entered his mind, his lips curling upwards.

“You want to try something new?” Jack asked, slightly guessing. You nodded, meeting his gaze. You vocalized a plea, Jack quick to flip you over. Your bare knees hit the dirt of the forest, the smell of the earth flooding your nostrils. Instinctively you went to arch your back, Jack stopping you by yanking you back by your shirt. “You might want to stay on all fours,” He purred in your ear, kissing your earlobe. He wrapped his belt around your neck, holding the metal buckle in his hand.

It cut off a decent portion of your airway, a groan escaping your lips at the sensation of being choked. “You’re into bondage now? Such a whore for me,” Jack chuckled darkly, stroking his cock. He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, trying to lubricate his cock as best as possible. Despite how drenched you got every time he was around, you always struggled to accommodate his size. And every single time it sent Jack into a frenzy, determination to make it fit ensuing.

He glanced up at the sky, the sun rising very faintly in the distance. “We don’t have very long, be a good girl and take it,” Jack snarled, shoving himself inside of you. You felt your body being split in two, his spare hand snaking down to your clit. He rubbed circles around the sensitive bud, trying to relax your body as much as possible. “You wanna be good for me don’t you slut? Relax for me,” He huffed, bottoming out inside of you. You were tense, grabbing handfuls of leafs and dirt.

He could feel you spasm around him as you struggled to accommodate to his size, whimpering as your vision became hazy. After what felt like forever to Jack, he could feel your body relax. “There we go, such a good girl for me aren’t you?” Jack purred in satisfaction. He pulled back his hips, taking himself out of you. He then brought himself back inside, pleased to hear the sound of you letting out a choked out moan. He continued to swirl around your clit, his thrust becoming faster.

You felt light headed as the leather pressed against your throat, choking on the sinful noises that echoed through out the forest. “Fuck, if I had known letting you into Slender’s forest would’ve gotten you so hot and bothered, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” Jack panted, his cock abusing your g spot. You were seeing stars, each thrust sending you into orbit. “Taking me so well, just like a good mate should,” He growled. His grip on the belt tightened, your airway temporarily cut off.

His thrust became more animalistic, the gears in his head turning. The savage and primal instinct washed over him, his coherent thoughts now vanished. Instead they were replaced with one thought and one thought only:

Breed breed breed.

“Fuck, you’re going to look so pretty with my cum leaking from that pretty cunt of yours,” Jack snarled. He released the belt, the leather flying forward and onto the ground. His large hands instead grabbed your waist, squeezing the flesh so harshly you swore you’d have bruise in the shape of his fingers. “Jack, fucking shit,” You moaned, his thrust merciless and brutal. He showed no sign of stopping, no sign of slowing. You could feel a familiar knot form in your stomach, one that Jack had made more times than you could count.

“I can feel you getting close for me. Need you to cum for me, need to fill you,” Jack huffed, holding back his own orgasm. Your back arched as you fell further forward, the side of your face pressed against the dirt. The sun was beginning to rise, your thighs trembling. “Jack I-,” You mewled, your orgasm washing over you like a ton of bricks. Jack couldn’t resist himself, fucking you through your orgasm. His hips began to stutter, the demon screwing his eyes shut as he came deep inside of you.

Dazed, you continued to hold your ass up in the air as Jack pulled out of you. The sight of his cum seeping out of your cunt was divine. With two fingers he scooped up the dripping cum, pushing it back inside of you, ignoring your whimpers. Gently he guided you onto his lap, wiping the dirt off of your face with his thumb. The sun began rising, the beams of sunlight dancing in between the trees as they hit the forest floor.

Jack could hear your heart rate begin to turn to normal as you inhaled deeper breaths. “Cmon, gotta get you dressed before the others get back from their hunt,” Jack murmured encouraging, readjusting your bra to fit you correctly. Still in a daze, you leaned your head against Jacks shoulder, allowing him to redress you. A small breeze blew past the two of you, the faint smell of blood hitting Jacks nose. He was sure the other creeps would be back any moment now, their kills fresh blood still staining their skin and clothes.

Quickly he dressed himself, scooping you into his arms. You had never been picked up bridal style before, instinctively you nuzzled your head against Jacks chest. Making sure you both had everything, Jack quickly looked around, noticing your shattered phone. He began walking towards the mansion, taking note you were beginning to drift off.

“Yeah, I think it’s time you met Ben. He owes you a new phone anyways.”

[softsunnyy]

when two people are obsessed

🚨he's tracking your location, he's following u, spying, cockwarming, piss kink, face slapping, use of 'whore', pushing u to the limit, eating your pussy, squirting, overstimulation, and i think that's it 🚨

rushed, so this one IS poorly written. Sorry, I'M STILL SLEEPY.

@kawhh ; @ruinix <33

well, where the fuck are you? that's what he wants to know, looking at his phone for your location, noticing you're not where you're supposed to be. Anger building in his chest, knowing that if he hadn't checked the app, he would have never found out.

why are you in the basketball gym? you're supposed to be in class, on the other side of the campus, so what the fuck are you doing there?

he can't resist it; he has to leave practice early, excusing himself by saying he doesn't feel well, asking to get out of there as soon as possible. He can deal with the coach's dirty looks after.

he changes quickly, trying to call you. You don't answer, his hands shaking from his level of anger and desperation. He hates changes in routine. He hates not knowing what you're doing.

he calls again, and once again it goes to voicemail.

all he sees is red, and his eyes are glued to the app as he walks. His firm, dry footsteps are all that can be heard in the hallways because most of people are in class or doing other activities. Like you, who should be in that damn class.

long strides, his jaw clenched, his hand holding his phone. A walk that should have taken him five minutes took him almost three. However, he doesn't rush into the gym. No. He wants to know what you're really doing, not hear your excuses or lies.

first, he looks through the glass of the door, looking inside the gym. He sees the team practicing. Nothing seems out of place, until he looks further to the side and sees you sitting on a bench, talking to someone. With a boy. One of your books is open on your lap, and you're talking to him animatedly, smiling, while he nods so many times he looks like a car decoration, one of those with the bouncing heads.

his teeth seems like they're about to break from how hard he's clenching his jaw, the phone clenched in his fist.

what is this? what are you doing?

he dares to open the door a crack, quietly, without letting anyone notice. He can hear the squeaking of shoes on the floor, the bouncing ball, the players' shouts, but he can't hear your voice, he can't understand what you're saying, but he sees you giggle, showing him something in your book, which made that boy get too close to you. Too close for his liking.

of course, one thing you have to be thankful for is that he doesn't know the whole story. He doesn't know that this is the same boy who made you come late to your dorm a few nights ago. The same boy who has been interrupting your breaks for days, trying to get you to help him with a class subject. At first, it was weird, and you felt a little scared, so much so that you were going to tell Quinn, but then you stopped caring, and decided to help him, like you do now.

your class has been canceled, and normally you would have gone to watch Quinn practice, but you had promised to help this boy, so that's what you do now.

you laugh at a stupid mistake, a mistake about a word, a concept he misunderstood, when you start to feel strange, watched. You know that feeling, so you look around, trying to see if it was one of the players, but it wasn't. Your laughter died, your brows furrowed a little. Your skin prickled with goosebumps.

you try to refocus, but you can't; it doesn't feel the same anymore. You feel intimidated, stalked. You shake your head again, trying not to alert the boy, searching for the source of the stares.

it was then that you looked at the door, seeing that in that slightly darker corner, hidden near the benches, leaning against the door, now with his arms crossed but phone in hand, is Quinn, staring at you, not even feeling embarrassed when you notice him. You can see the anger in his eyes, which makes you swallow hard, feeling your mouth dry, knowing you're in serious and dangerous trouble.

you know how bad everything is when you see him turn around, leaving, letting the door slam loudly, making you jump, nervous.

“don't worry, it must have been the wind or something,” the boy tried to say, in a sweet tone that made you want to throw up, too tense, terrified. You wanna get out of there, run to him, and explain everything. You know that when you get to your dorm, something uncertain will await you.

you try to continue, but now your mind is thinking about what awaits you, thinking about the thousands of possibilities, consuming you, installing terror inside you. You feel guilty, as if you've committed a huge sin. You think about what Quinn must have thought, knowing what you would have thought if the situation had been different. You insult yourself for being so naive, and you can't even laugh at what the boy says anymore.

how can he not understand? how is it possible he didn't feel the stares? he was literally there, a few feet away, watching them.

and Quinn? he returned to your home, making his way into his favorite spot, your room, lying down on the bed you now share, staring at the ceiling, his arms under his head, like a pillow. His thoughts race, coming up with ideas, feeding his mind.

he thinks about his options, about what will make you suffer, what will make you feel humiliated, small. What will remind you that you're his, that the rules exist for a reason.

he spends the next few hours thinking, not moving, not even to go to the bathroom, just there, containing his anger, all his ideas, planning.

and when it's time for you to go home, you don't even try to hide, because you know it will be worse. But you're careful, opening the door quietly, leaving your shoes by the door, next to Quinn's, hanging up your jacket and leaving the keys aside. You sigh before starting to walk, knowing exactly where to go, your legs like jelly with each step you take. Your heart beats so loudly you can hear it in your ears, breathing is difficult, and you feel a pressure in your chest and a pit in your stomach.

you open your bedroom door, looking down at the floor, then at the bed, your eyes bright and a small pout on your mouth, embarrassed. You don't even wait for him to say anything, kneeling down beside the bed, looking at him from there.

"Quinn, i'm sorry..." you stop talking when you see him sit up in bed, looking at you. His eyes are cold, filled with anger, with a false self-control that makes you tense up even more. You see him get up, but you just stay still, staring at him. You know better than that.

there was silence for a couple of seconds, until he stopped looking at you.

"i was wondering if my app was failing," he laughed bitterly, shaking his head as he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down slowly. "Because, why wouldn't you be in your class?"

after taking off his pants, he takes off his shirt, and you wanna whimper, wanting him to touch you, to react, to scream, to do something. You can't stand that calm tone, that indifference, as if he's ignoring the fact that he needs to punish you for what you did.

“because if it had been canceled, you would have come to see me, like always.” He continued talking, not waiting for an answer, now taking off his boxers, leaving himself completely naked, letting you see his cock, mesmerizing, big, proud, veiny, full. “Isn't that right?” He asks, looking at you again, sitting on the bed, this time opening his legs, leaving a space for you.

you nod, desperate, wanting to show him your need. Then he pats one of his legs, and you crawl towards him, placing yourself in the space between his legs, your face right in front of his cock. But you don't touch him, you don't rush. You try to be good for him.

“what i find interesting, though, is that when i went to look for you, i found you outside your classroom… with a man, laughing,” you whimper, remorseful, looking down. He can sense your guilt, and while that relaxes him a little, it doesn’t silence his desire to play with you, so he brings his hand to his cock, starting to pump, masturbating, now his dick fully hard without taking his gaze off you. You can hear the sound of his hand moving, and you feel the need to have him in your mouth, to make him feel good, to wet him with your drool, to let him take your throat.

“look at me.” You quickly do as he says, raising your gaze, running your tongue over your lips to wet them. “You wouldn’t lie to me, right?” you shook your head, so desperate that he smiled a little, nodding. “Open your mouth,” he instructed, which you did.

he leaned down slightly, then gathered the drool in his mouth and spit it onto your tongue, making you gasp in surprise. But when you were about to close your mouth to swallow, he stopped you, forcing you to keep your mouth open. Then he brought his cock to your mouth, sliding in, reaching your limit, almost making you gag. But he didn't move, he stayed still, and you could feel his full weight on your tongue, sharing space with his own drool and yours.

you tried to move your head. Maybe he wanted you to do it yourself. But then his hand grabbed your hair and pulled hard, stopping you.

you're gonna have to be patient, you're gonna keep him warm. He's gonna make you want to move. And so much time passes that you've lost count. Your jaw aches, it's cramped, and your drool has accumulated so much that it's started to drip, making a mess on the floor, staining your legs, wetting your chin. His hand is still in your hair, and the other caresses your cheek. A combination of brutality and affection, confusing your mind, making you unable to decide what to feel. Making you unable to trust, because you don't know when he'll stop being sweet.

it's been so long that your eyes glaze over, and every so often you gag. You've been able to imagine scenarios, you remember how his cum feels going down your throat, filling you up, even making you choke, and the memory alone makes your pussy throb, starting to get wet, creating a dark patch on your panties. But you don't do anything about it, because you don't want to make things worse.

now, something Quinn hadn't planned for is that after hours of lying in your bed without moving, there's a basic need he hadn't met, and the urge to pee started to come to him at the worst possible time. However, even though he wanted to warn you, even though he wanted to move and pull out of your mouth, he couldn't help it, not when you were looking at him like that, with your innocent eyes, filled with tears, your face a mess, your cheeks red.

you panic when you feel hot liquid flood your throat, and you try to cough, swallow, act quickly, but you choke a little, swallowing without thinking about what you were doing. However, when you managed to control it, you understood, and you blushed, feeling tiny under his gaze, feeling his urine go down your throat, disgusting and obscene. And you're embarrassed by how much you enjoy it, feeling like you've reached another level in your relationship with Quinn. You know that maybe you should take it as a punishment, but something inside you is so worked up that you can't wait to feel it again. You would do anything for him, to make him happy, so he doesn't get bored of you and continues using your body the way you like.

and he groans, satisfied, relieved, throwing his head back for a moment, closing his eyes as he feels how well you take him, like a good whore, truly trying to earn his forgiveness. And he doesn't even apologize, just opens his eyes and looks at you, slapping one of your cheeks, as if to say "good job," and then slides his cock out of you, hitting the tip near your lips, causing traces of his liquid to stain your face, making you whimper, desperate.

surprisingly, this had only made you worse, your pussy dripping, drooling, and your body unconsciously tried to rub itself in some way to relieve the heat all this had caused, under Quinn's cold, hard gaze.

a couple of seconds passed in silence. He tried to compose himself, seeing how you couldn't resist the need to stimulate your clitoris, even if it had to be with the floor.

"what were you doing with him?" he asked in a low tone, confusing you for a moment, making you tilt your head, trying to think. Then you remembered, and quickly tried to answer.

“i was helping him study, i swear. He said he didn't understand the class, and i did…” you tried to explain, but his face didn't change.

“well, you know how i felt when i saw you weren't in your class? when i saw you talking to him?” he shook his head, pretending to be too disappointed, just to make you feel even worse.

“i'm sorry, Quinn, i'm so sorry. Tell me what i can do,” you begged, this time placing your hands on his thighs, leaning closer to his body, feeling your sweat making your clothes stick to your body, making you feel uncomfortable. That was his plan; he wanted you to feel this way, for you to be unhappy, but he can't help but melt a little when you leave small kisses on his cock, trying to convince him, leaving small licks on his tip, making him hard again, trying to get him to give in and give you instructions.

he sighed, then pointed behind him on the bed.

“go,” he said, and you complied, lying on your back, opening your legs for him.

he, as slowly as he could, helped you remove your pants, followed by your panties, smirking as he smelled your arousal, watching your pussy glisten, soaked. Some of your fluids wet your inner thighs.

with one of his hands, he slaps your pussy a couple of times, your juices spurting everywhere, and small moans come from your mouth. He's not gentle; he makes you ache, makes your skin turn red, and when he's satisfied, he stops, grabbing your thighs, exposing you more to him, then moving down and beginning to devour your pussy.

he irritates your skin with his beard, and lets your hand tangle in his hair, pulling it, bringing him closer and closer.

your back arches, and his tongue runs through your folds as if it belongs there, as if he's taken over that space, knowing just how to touch you to have you melt beneath his body.

he wants you to remember this, to remember who makes you feel this way, to remember the fucking rules, so he doesn't have to waste time torturing you, making you impatient, whiny, and pathetic. He should be fucking you the way he wants, using your body like always, cumming over and over again in your warm, tight walls that always welcome him so well. But no. Now he has to do this, take his time, tease you, provoke you, bring you to your limit and then stop. He does it a few times, watching tears run down your cheeks, watching how your clit seems swollen, sensitive, how your folds are a pool of your juices and your hole throbs, aching to be filled.

he hears you whimper, moan, hears you beg for his forgiveness, promising not to do it again.

the image of you in that gym drives him crazy, and he devours you even more, his hands squeezing your thighs so tightly that they begin to leave bruises, large, small, of violent, furious colors. They accompany the other marks on your body, the ones you cover with your clothes, as if you're ashamed of him.

once again, he feels you on the edge, so he pulls away. Your hips jerk and you look at him, begging, crying, but he silences you with just a look, cold, direct, terrifying. And you try to keep your legs from shaking, but you can't, and he feels it, feeling him regain a little control over you, as he should.

"rules are made for a reason, you know that, right?" you try to respond, but the words don't come out, so you nod quickly. However, he isn't happy with that answer, and slaps your thigh, asking again, this time in an annoyed tone.

"yes! yes!" you whimper.

“don't make me worry, don't make me have to leave another practice just to find you being a whore with an asshole.” He speaks angrily, and you nod again, like a promise. “Do you think he'll make you feel the way i do?” he asks, now mockingly. You both know that no one will ever be able to cause what he does to you.

he spent so much time getting to know you without you knowing, entering your life, taking over every corner, marking it with his name until you go crazy, and no random guy will change that, no matter how close he is to you. But the thought alone is what drives him crazy, and that's why he can't resist it.

his hands lift your legs onto his shoulders, his cock brushing against your pussy, making you feel excited. Then he uses one of his hands, aligning it against your hole before pushing, entering deep inside you, without giving you time to get used to it, starting to move.

he feels so big inside you that you can't help but drool, cry. Your hands on his arms, leaving reddish wounds that would take a while to fade. A small bulge in your belly from the position. You know he's going fucking deep, almost ridiculously so, making you feel like a doll, like someone so small next to him.

and his other hand presses on the bulge, making you feel it more intensely. He knows what to do. He knows your body, what you like. God, every day he trains you, takes a little more ownership of you, your tastes, your body and your mind.

he's hammering inside you, and when he feels he´s fucking you stupid, he brings your attention back. You feel dizzy, your throat burning, your eyes glassy, ​​blurry, barely able to make out his face as you moan.

“i asked you a question. Do you think he’ll feel the way i do? do you think he’ll know how to please you? how to treat a whore like you?” His words are poisonous, and you can barely understand them, too distracted by how good his cock feels sliding into your walls, bringing you closer to the edge, like he’s been doing for a long time now.

“no…” you try to respond, but you’re interrupted by a moan, so he uses one of his hands to slap your cheek, getting your attention.

“i didn’t hear you, repeat that,” he says, and you try to focus, to listen, to be good, even as you feel the familiar sensation in your pussy.

“no! only you can do it, you, you…” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to resist your orgasm. “Quinn, i need, please, let me…” you try to beg, though you’re only saying half-finished sentences.

“no, hold it,” he says, moving, sliding in and out, stretching your walls, making you feel like you’re about to split in two. The position makes his cock feel different, bigger, going deeper, and he doesn’t even let you get used to it.

you're struggling to breathe, your head hurts, everything hurts, but at the same time it feels so good. You need to cum, you need to moan his name loudly, to be good for him. You want him to forgive you, to stop torturing you. You want to be his good girl again, not just his whore.

he keeps moving, keeps abusing your poor pussy, forcing you to hold back your orgasm until he finally gives you permission.

your cum is a mess, stronger than ever. Your juices spurt everywhere, soaking your bodies, the bed. Quinn watches you in surprise, his cock too hard from the spectacle. Now he can't stop moving. He wants you to do that again, even though you're nearly passed out, trying to recover, trying to breathe. Your legs are spasming, your fluids making an obscene sound, and the smell too strong around you.

you think is over, but Quinn feels like it's just beginning. He wasted too much time having to teach you a lesson. Now you'll have to resist, or he'll have to finish using your body to his liking, whether you're awake or not.

[changbunnies]

Angel of Music (18+)

♡ Pairing: Phantom!Minho x Opera Singer Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: phantom of the opera inspired au, horror themes, dark romance, age gap, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :'), the ending is also a lil dark, sorry!

♡ Word Count: 5.8k

♡ Summary: A phantom exists in the opera house– he controls every production from the shadows, lurks around every dark corner, always watching. In your dreams exists an angel– a guardian that sings to you, guides you, and comforts you. When The Phantom appears before you in your dressing room mirror, you begin to realize that he and your angel may be one in the same.

♡ General Warnings: slightly less extreme age gap than the source material that inspires this fic but it's still fairly large (reader is ~mid 20s and minho is ~40), briefly described attempted murder of minor characters, implications of stalking, hypnotism, hallucinations + doubts of reality, so much usage of the words "phantom" and "angel" it's not even funny, this fic is not an accurate representation of how hypnotism works irl but it's fiction so i'm taking liberties!

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon (due to reader being hypnotized), additionally to not being in their proper state of mind, there are also moments in which reader does not feel to be in full control of their body, light dom/sub dynamics, soft pleasure dom!minho because i want more of him !!, mask kink (does it still count if the mask doesn't cover his whole face?? idk i hope so!), some biting, oral (f rec), overstim, multiple orgasms

♡ Notes: i've known for ages that i wanted to write a phantom!minho fic, and my kinktober series gave me the perfect reason to finally write it! also the fact that both my uploaded minho fics are age gap romances?? that was not intentional i swear lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All inhabitants of the opera house have been on edge these days– consequence of the new owners of the Opera Populaire, who decided to disregard all of The Phantom's demands.

The Phantom, as the name suggests, is a ghost story of sorts. According to your castmates, he has been here since long before you joined the Opera Populaire's trainees last year, but his activity has begun to increase since your arrival.

He controls all in the opera house, and his demands of the previous owner were always quite simple; perform what shows he instructs you to, follow his casting down to the letter, and keep the seats in Box Five free at all times. Evidentially, Box Five is his favorite place to watch the shows from– and sometimes, his dark silhouette can be spotted in the shadows of the booth, indiscernible but unmistakably there.

No one has ever truly seen The Phantom beyond a shadow, nor have they heard him speak. He communicates with notes, always left within feet of the recipient without anyone having seen him come or go. His notes will even appear in broad daylight, with not a single person having caught a glimpse of him despite all the eyes in the room.

Well, more accurately, no one has seen him apart from the Madame– an older woman who used to be a performer for the Opera Populaire herself, but has taken the role of choreographer since her retirement from the stage. In the 15 years it's been since The Phantom made his presence known to the opera house, she's the only one who's ever seen him, or heard his voice.

A brief encounter, she explained when asked about it– had barely seen him for more than a few passing moments. He spoke little, but the beauty of his voice was striking, completely unlike any other she’d ever heard. And all he asked of her, in that fleeting moment, was to remember that the Opera Populaire is his home– and as long as the inhabitants respect him, he'll respect them in turn.

The previous director, the Madame, and The Phantom all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done. As long as they listened to him, shows would go off without a hitch; but refuse, and there'd be dire consequences. As such, the Madame has been doing her best to express the importance of listening to The Phantom to the new owners.

The Monsieurs view it as no more than silly superstition– every opera house has their own beliefs and customs, things they consider good and bad luck before a show, things they view as omens of a show's future success. The Phantom is simply one of those things– and with a guiding hand, they can dispel such superstitions, show the cast and crew that there is no shadowy phantom to fear.

The first note left for the Monsieurs went disregarded– a barking laugh leaving the elder of the two before he tossed it in the bin. The instructions on the note were clear enough– you were to take the role of Eurydice in the opera house's production of Orpheus and Eurydice, and not Carlotta, as they originally casted.

You were just as baffled as everyone else to learn that The Phantom wanted you to take such an important role– you'd only been here a year, were still so new to your opera training. It's true enough that you have a good voice, and your dancing has improved with all your diligent practice, but you're still young, and the tragic role of Eurydice is not so easily performed.

Natural talent for bringing emotion to performance aside, you lack stage experience– experience that you can easily gain from background roles. To make you such a crucial stand-out role after only a year of training was simply unheard of– no opera house would do it!

This is to be your first production, your first time on stage in front of an audience; and so regardless of what The Phantom wants, Monsieur Reyer opted to keep you strictly in the supporting chorus roles, where you would go from shepherdess, to nymph, to spirit as the acts progressed. Not a glamorous, shining position in the cast by any means, but more than enough to help familiarize you with the reality of performing with hundreds of eyes watching.

It wouldn't take long for The Phantom to make his displeasure with the decision known. And what started off as just small accidents and stage mishaps quickly turned violent and dangerous as each week passed with you still not given the role that The Phantom felt you deserved to have.

The first violent turn came during rehearsals for Act 3, right in the middle of Eurydice's climactic aria, when the chandelier above the stage came crashing down. Carlotta was standing directly beneath it just before it fell, and it narrowly missed her– purely because she happened to take a few steps forward whilst singing.

“An unfortunate accident,” the Monsieurs said, “it had nothing to do with The Phantom!” But the veterans of the opera house knew better– and the conductor swore he saw a dark shadow on the scaffolds just before the chandelier fell; a shadow that could belong to none other than The Phantom.

Carlotta screamed as it crashed just mere inches away from her, right where she's just been standing, and cried as everyone rushed to her side to ensure that she was unharmed. Again, the Madame tried to persuade them to heed The Phantom before another such “accident” occurred.

"Good God in Heaven, you're all obsessed! These things just happen sometimes– there is no phantom!" Reyer cried in exasperation over everyone's insistence, still unwilling to give in to the idea that the opera house's ghost was real.

And tonight, just after rehearsals came to a close, another terrible stage accident occurred– this time happening to Monsieur Reyer himself. He was up on the scaffolding when it happened, making sure all the stagehands properly rigged the lights in preparation for tomorrow night's premiere of Orpheus and Eurydice.

He was bent down, inspecting the bulbs and wires, when a dark figure appeared behind him. The shadow wrapped a noose around his neck faster than anyone could even react, pushed him off the scaffolding before swiftly retreating back to the shadows.

Reyer almost didn't survive– he was lucky that the nearby stagehands were quick on their feet and in their wits, managing to grab his arms and pull him up while another cut the rope that served to hang the poor man. And as if the message from the accidents alone weren't clear enough, another note was left behind right in the middle of the stage.

It was astounding, really, that not a single person saw The Phantom leave the note behind– and while some could argue that it was because all eyes were on Reyer, or because the stage became chaos as they worked to save him, the Monsieurs realized that maybe they should start to believe that there really is a ghost inhabiting the Opera Populaire.

The moment the note was noticed, the Madame picked it up, and read it aloud for all to hear. "Again, I remind you that Y/N will play the role of Eurydice. As I instruct, Box Five shall remain open for my use. These seats will not be used by another. This is my final warning– disregard at your own risk."

Realizing they had no choice, lest they wish to continue putting themselves and other cast and crew in danger, the Monsieurs begrudgingly declared you the new Eurydice, right then and there.

Given that you're at every rehearsal, you know Eurydice's lines by heart, and are confident that you can sing them well– but still, you're nervous. It's your first production, the premiere is sold out, is set for tomorrow night, and suddenly you're in one of the most pivotal roles in the entire opera.

You don't even understand why The Phantom is so adamant about giving the role to you; what is it about you that he likes, what is it that he sees in you? You wish you could ask the Madame, but she met him so fleetingly, and so many years ago– she has no way of knowing The Phantom's heart beyond an educated guess.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, you sigh, utterly exhausted– now that you're Eurydice, it was vital that you do a last minute costume fitting and makeup test. As such, you've been in the opera house hours past the time you'd normally be here. The moon hangs high in the sky now, you're sure; you wonder if you should just spend the night here, sleep in the dressing room instead of making a late trek home.

Regardless, you hope your angel comes to you tonight. You know no one would believe you if you told them, but you really do have a guardian angel; and in your dreams, he comes to you– always when you are most lost and in need of guidance. He's a gentle, calming presence; always comforts you, talks to you sweetly when you're filled with self doubt, sings to you in the most beautiful of voices.

You've never actually seen your angel clearly– only heard his voice calling your name and whispering, singing, in a way that could only be described as angelic in its serenity. In your dreams, he's nothing but a vague, blurry image– even at his most clear, you can't define any of his features.

Still, you think of him fondly– and you suspect that as an angel, you aren't meant to be able to fully perceive him. And your angel always, always, knows when you need him– you suspect that even now, he's waiting; waiting for the moment you fall asleep, so that he can come to your side.

You look at yourself, still dressed as Eurydice. A beautiful, off shoulder bateau gown in the prettiest, purest ivory. There's lace appliques throughout the gown, has a beautiful cinched bodice before the tulle skirt fluffs out. It's elegant, makes you feel like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle.

Your makeup shimmers– extra glitter applied on your eyelids to make sure the stage lights catch it. Your jewelry too, is extravagant– made to sparkle and shine every time a light shines on you, to twinkle with each subtle move you make. It's a shame you have to take it all off just to put it all back on tomorrow– but the effort to make sure everything fits you was necessary.

You reach your hands up to one of your ears, prepare to remove one of your dangling earrings when you hear a voice you know all too well call your name– your angel's voice.

You look around the room, bewildered, but see nothing and no one. And surely you were mistaken– you're still awake! Your angel only comes to you in dreams, and you haven't fallen asleep... right? You are still awake, aren't you?

Again, you hear his voice, another whisper of your name. You rise from your chair, look around the room once more– no one. You turn back to the dressing room mirror, and jump in surprise, realizing that the view reflected in it has changed. You no longer see yourself, or the reflection of the dressing room around you– instead, you see a man.

He looks just as the Madame described her memory of The Phantom– dark hair, and even darker eyes, with a white mask that covers the right half of his face. Not completely– just from his hairline, down to his pretty, plump lips. Every inch of his skin is covered, head to toe, all of his clothes pure black apart from the ornate red vest.

Sleek boots and dark trousers, a tall collar that obscures most of his neck, long sleeves that cover his arms, even gloves covering his hands. He wears a cape, long and as dark as the rest of his clothes, and it blows behind him as if there’s a breeze rolling through.

You’re confused, a little frightened, but you can’t tear your eyes away or will yourself to flee– and as the figure speaks your name, you gasp; he truly has the voice of your angel. But he’s The Phantom, isn’t he? 

The blurry, vague scenery behind him begins to sharpen, coming more distinctly visible to your uncertain eyes. A dark corridor full of candelabra, glowing in dull yellows and shades of orange, held by incorporeal hands with no discernable origin.

What little of your dressing room you see in your peripheral shifts and warps as you stare at him, blur together into dark shadows as the table holding your hairbrush and makeup begin to fade and disappear, leaving the view through the mirror as the only thing you can see.

The figure– your angel, The Phantom?– holds his hand out to you through the mirror, as if the glass that should separate you no longer exists; perhaps it doesn't. Smoke– or maybe fog, mist? you can't be certain– pours into the room as you approach the mirror.

As if under a spell, you reach out to take his hand, thinking not of logic as you follow the beckoning call of your name. Your angel; you trust your angel. He smiles as you place your hand in his, and carefully, you step through the mirror, into the corridor.

Entranced, you stare at him; even with half a mask covering his face, he's utterly beautiful. He appears to be older than you, hints of fine lines beholden around his mouth and eyes, and even that adds to his mysterious charm. He holds your gaze as he takes a step back, a candelabra in his hand now, beckoning you to follow him down the corridor.

You squeeze his hand as you follow, and finally he turns around, walks with purpose as he guides you, glancing behind every so often to look at you in what you think to be adoration. You too, glance behind– and where the mirror once stood is now a desolate, barren wall.

You do not see any hint of your dressing room, or of the mirror you stepped through. And as you continue further down the corridor, the candelabra that were once behind you slowly begin to blink out and vanish from sight, leaving only pitch black darkness behind. A spiral staircase made of stone manifests, and you descend it, hand in hand with your angel.

You're so enchanted and bewildered, you can't seem to find your voice– all you can do is follow, let him guide you along to where it is he wants you to be. Even the staircase dissipates when you've finished descending, and for just a moment, you wonder– is any of this truly real?

Finally, you stand in the middle of a beautiful room, lit candles both resting in more candelabra and strewn about the floor, with dark, intricately woven tapestries hanging from the stone walls. There’s a grand piano, sleek black with gold accents, with even more candles resting atop it, as well as a sheet of music sitting pristine on the music desk, black ink seemingly freshly dried, just waiting to be played. 

There are several mirrors, though only one remains uncovered– the rest are obscured by cloth, for reasons you do not know. There is a bed, in what you suppose would be called a “corner” in this otherwise circular space, inviting and plush in its appearance, with blankets colored a rich red. Naturally, candles surround the bed as well, covering it in a beautifully soft, yellow-orange glow. 

“Where are we?” you finally find your voice to ask, and the man smiles as he beckons you to follow him towards his bed. “We are home,” he replies, and though it’s a strange answer, you feel you understand– yes, you are home. This is home. 

You gaze at him curiously after you sit on the bed, just as comfortable as you expected it to be, and he mimics the way you’ve tilted your head at him. “You’re.. My angel, aren’t you? Or are you The Phantom?” you ask, and the man laughs ever so softly, melodious and beautiful. 

“I am Minho,” he responds, as if that alone is a sufficient enough answer– in a way, you suppose it is. What else is there to know? He is Minho. That is enough.

“I have longed to touch you, to bring you here,” Minho whispers as he reaches one of his gloved hands to your face, strokes your cheek slowly, gently. The sensation, though simple, feels so tender– it sparks something inside you, fills you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. You close your eyes, bask in the comfort his touch provides you. 

You feel his hand move, travel down until his fingers are under your chin. He tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to see him gazing down at you warmly. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, speaking to you as gently as he always does. He’s said it before, in your dreams– that you are beautiful, talented, deserving of all you wish to have.

He never lets you linger on self-doubt, never allows you to think you are lesser than someone else, or undeserving of the opportunities you’ve been granted. Your angel knows you– you think he’s appearing to you now, like this, because he knows you are uncertain of playing Eurydice; he must think that he needs to remind you of just how special you are. 

All of your doubts about tomorrow’s premiere– he will dispel them from your mind, as he always does. He kneels before you, gazing at you carefully as he inches closer to you, his hands softly rubbing over your shoulders and down your arms. His attentive stare as he caresses you makes you breathing quicken, your heart starting to pick up speed.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks suddenly, and with not an ounce of hesitation, you nod. You’ve no reason not to trust him– in the year it's been since your angel first appeared to you, you’ve always trusted him. There is no one else that makes you feel so secure, so at peace, so.. Loved, cared for. Yes, your angel, Minho, loves you, cares for you like no other. You trust him. 

“I wish to clear your mind of worry and doubt– to make you think only of me, and the music we can make together. I wish to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you," he says, and oh, he knows he shouldn’t be pouring his heart out like this, for it’s too soon, much too soon. But he’s been enamored with you since the first moment you stepped into the Opera Populaire, has been infatuated with you since first hearing the passion in your voice.

He can’t help it, it seems– now that he has you here, in his lair, his defenses falter, all of his desires pouring out of him. To have you here, and to touch you like this, even so simply– it’s everything he’s wanted. And instantly, unconsciously, you reach out to him. Your angel sees you, knows you– you wish to know him too, to understand him the way he does you.

Your mind is somehow as clear as it is hazy– clear, because you know what it is that you want. Regardless of who he is, what he is, you want Minho to have you. Anything he wants, you feel compelled to give, as if it’s all you know; and in this moment, perhaps it is. In the very back reaches of your addled mind, a reminder blares– The Phantom always gets what he wants. 

And what he wants now, most of all, is you; and despite what logic may tell you to feel, you trust him to have you. He sees all that you feel in your expression alone, knows all that you think as if he’s seen into the depths of your mind. Even now, perhaps more than ever before, he sees you. 

Sees all that you are, and all that you want– and a charming smile plays on his lips as you gaze at him with wanton desire to let him take you. To let him have, to give yourself over– you wish to offer yourself wholly to your angel’s desires.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, a soft press that you could almost call chaste, his hands slowly moving over your body, each soft touch lingering. You don’t feel his gloves anymore, you realize– did he take them off without you noticing? You suppose it doesn’t matter– his hands are warm, a bit rough and calloused against the soft skin of your arms, and you like it.

Even as his kisses become less chaste, deepen as his hands travel to your hips, they remain slow and purposeful. His hands eventually find the bottom of your dress, begin to lift it ever so slowly up your thighs– not to expose you, but so that he can slot himself between your legs. Somehow, innately, you understand this– and easily, you spread your legs for him, allowing him to find his place between them.

His arms wrap around you after, pulling you closer, pressing your body to his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he pulls away, breathless as you look to him with eager, impassioned eyes– a gaze that heats his otherwise cold heart. You reach up, bring your hands to his face; he nearly flinches when you touch his mask, though he knows you mean no harm. 

Minho feels himself ugly under his mask– too scarred and disfigured to be appealing to you in any regard; at least like this, with only the good parts of his face on display, you may find him handsome. Your touch is as soft as your gaze, and though perhaps you should, you make no move to remove his mask; you simply rub your thumb over the cold porcelain.

It’s a vulnerable thing, really– how softly you touch his ugliest spots. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see them from beneath his mask– the tender regard you seem to feel for him, even without having seen the scars that mar him, is more than enough. It’s ironic, in a way, that you seem to think he’s an angel; in reality, the only angel in this room is you. 

“I want to please you, if you'll let me,” he breathes as his fingertips ghost over your thighs. It makes your breath hitch, blinking at him slowly as you process his intent. There is much your angel wants– but chasing the pleasure of his own flesh isn’t one of those things. He doesn’t need it to feel satisfied; your pleasure will more than suffice him.

His dark eyes bore into yours as he awaits your answer, can tell from his wanting gaze how serious he is about pleasing you, and it makes your cheeks slowly bloom with heat. And it’s not just what he wants– it’s what he needs, really; when you surrender yourself to him, he wants it to be for your pleasure, not his own. 

“Oh, please– touch me,” you answer, plead– because something from deep inside you screams for it, wanting it beyond all comprehension. Your darkest, most innate desires manifest for him; desires that you didn’t even fully realize you had. They possess you, drive you to kiss him again, urgent and passionate. 

Minho returns your kiss with equal fervor, lets his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours. They share a dance, swirl around each other until you’re breathless again; and then he’s guiding you back, urging you to lay down as he hovers over you. He pulls the skirt of your dress further up your body, until your thighs are entirely exposed and he can see your dampening panties. 

He lowers himself to you, but doesn’t go immediately where you expect him too– he takes his time trailing wet, lingering kisses over your thighs instead. Your inner thighs are sensitive, ticklish, and you can’t help but squirm from each kiss he grants you.

You also can’t help but jolt each time the cool porcelain of his mask presses against the hot skin of your thigh, and again when he carefully sinks his teeth into your pliant flesh. He doesn't do it hard enough to hurt, or even fully leave indents of his teeth behind– just enough to leave you panting and squirmy; and he lets out a soft, airy laugh every time he succeeds in the endeavor. 

Your bunched up skirt is so full that you can hardly even watch him work you up; but there are times, while kissing and biting over your trembling thighs, that he lifts his head just enough to let you catch his gaze. It makes your heart skip a beat, butterflies dancing in your stomach every time he locks eyes with you while kissing around where you need him most.

You reach a point where you’re no longer squirming because his attention tickles, but because you’re becoming desperate, impatient; and the way he stares at you as he does it all doesn't help in the slightest. “Minho, please,” you whine, shameless; and you can feel him smile against your skin before he lifts himself up from his place between your legs. 

“Needy are we, angel?” he asks, grinning as you pout and nod. “Need you,” you mumble, but he hears you loud and clear; he’s attuned to you, your angel is. He lowers himself between your thighs once more, kisses your pussy over your panties– and it’s not quite what you need, but it’s enough to have you gasping and quivering. 

Again, he takes his time, as if not a single ounce of urgency resides within him. And make no mistake, it does– but Minho knows how to restrain himself. He’s a stubborn man, that is certainly true, but he’s also perfectly in control of himself; for now, anyways. 

And he likes the way you whine for him when you feel his tongue lick you up over the fabric of your panties. It’s not a full enough feeling for you, or a full enough taste of your pussy for him, but the desperate, whiny sounds it draws out of you are delicious enough to satisfy him.  

Still, while he’s enjoying the way his soft kisses and kitten licks over your panties is making you writhe and cry for him, he also can’t deny how badly he wants to finally taste you directly on his tongue. He’s been patient enough, he thinks, and so have you– why not indulge just a little sooner than planned?

In contrast to how sweetly he’s treated you up to this point, he’s quick to tear your panties away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping makes you gasp, and maybe later he’ll apologize– but for now, lapping his tongue between your folds is of more importance. You moan when his tongue finally meets your bare pussy, as does Minho– and despite the hunger that he feels, he continues to lick you over slowly. 

The languid pace makes you crazy– you want more, so much more, but your angel has been waiting for this; he needs to take his time with you, needs to embed the taste of your dripping sex on his tongue, needs to make sure it’s something he’ll never be able to forget. And he isn’t trying to tease you by keeping the slow pace– well, maybe he is a little; he does enjoy it, after all– but he’s sincerely craved this for too long to let the moment quickly pass him by. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, squeezing them in his hands and preventing you from closing them around his head. You’re sure it’s partly so he can keep you spread out for him, to keep enjoying the easy access to your pussy, but it’s also so that your trembling thighs don’t cause his mask to shift, and fall from his face. 

You gasp when the cool, smooth and rigid porcelain covering the right side of his nose bumps your clit as he shoves his tongue into your hole. And while he isn’t purposely trying to get you to cum just yet, his slow but diligent ministrations are getting you there regardless– with his tongue dipping in and out of your heat, always pushing in as deep as he can make it go, and his mask-covered nose nudging your clit. 

You let your head fall back against the bed, your every high pitched whimper and moan echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You try to tell him you’re going to cum, but you fail miserably– all that leaves you is a quick succession of whines before your eyes are rolling, back bowing off the bed as release on his tongue. Minho moans with you, hums happily as he licks the mess from your pussy like the cat that got the cream. 

He laves over your clit when he’s done licking up your cum– and it's sensitive, swollen from your orgasm; but that doesn’t stop him from swirling his tongue around it, and positively knocking the air from your lungs. The sensation is overwhelming, he knows it is even without you telling him, but it’s still so good that you don’t want to squirm away, or ask him to stop– or perhaps you can’t. 

You get the distinct feeling that even if you tried, your limbs would resist, would fight to keep you in place– despite your best efforts, you would remain just as you are now. Spread open and trembling, exactly how Minho wants you. “You make the prettiest music, angel,” he separates from you long enough to speak, “want you to keep singing for me.”

And sing for him you do when he dives back in, flicks your clit with his tongue a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like a piece of hard candy. Your moans, the smacking sounds of his lips, the way he hums when he returns to your hole to collect the cream– it’s an orchestra, just for the two of you.

You cum again in record time, of course you do. Minho finds it cute, the way you incoherently babble away as you let go for him again. And he isn’t done just because you came again– no, he’s far from finished with your pussy. He doesn’t tire in the slightest, ceaseless in the way he lavishes with you his tongue and suckles with his pretty, perfect lips. 

When you cum for the third time, you don’t even know if you truly ever stop cumming at all– the pleasure just keeps coming in waves, never fully receding before it builds again, washing over you like a tsunami before it all repeats. You writhe and twist, back repeatedly bowing off his bed before falling back, but your thighs stay spread for him, even when his hands stop holding them down. 

His hands have found their way beneath you, cupping and squeezing your ass as he eats away. Your hips wriggle, and he helps grind you up against his face, moaning and humming all the while. It’s too much and not enough all at once; your body screams that it can’t take it, and yet your mind screams that it needs more, and God, you can’t think straight– but is there any point in this night that you were?

You’re hot and heaving, sweat dripping from your brow as you tremble and bend. Minho is hot too, of course– his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his face red from his cheeks to his ears, and even down his neck. And were you not so far gone, you’d have noticed that his mask has shifted and fallen from his face. 

It was because of you, too– when another high took you and tugged on his hair hard, crying as your hips jolted and bucked against his face. He should’ve swiftly put it back on, lest you see his scars, but he didn’t– he just shoved it aside, against his better judgment, so he could keep licking you up without interruption. 

You feel positively delirious by the time he’s finished, eyes heavy and bleary, body utterly limp and boneless. He crawls his way up to you, and your gaze is unfocused, blurry; you can hardly distinguish his features anymore– similar to the way he always appeared in your dreams before now.

Regardless, you smile at him before you close your eyes; a weak, but content one that Minho finds oh so endearing. You’re beyond fatigued, but also feel an unmatched sense of elation as your angel strokes your head and whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep to. “You belong to me now,” you hear him say, just before you drift off– and you know it’s true. 

You think, perhaps, you’ve always belonged to him. From the very first moment Minho saw you, he knew he was never going to let you go. And just as Orpheus had done for Eurydice, he’d gladly walk into the depths of Hades itself if that’s what it took to keep you by his side. 

He gently caresses your cheek as you fall into a deeper sleep, presses a soft kiss to your lips and whispers a final soft utterance of love before he covers you with a blanket, and your mind goes completely dark for the night. 

You wake the next day with a struggle– at least, you think it’s the next day; it’s too dark in the room you’re in to tell for certain. You reach out for Minho, but don’t feel him anywhere– and as you sit up, and your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are alone. Your brows furrow as you look around; you’re still in his room, but it doesn’t look quite the same. 

There are no candles, not on the floor or in the candelabra that now lie empty. The tapestries adorning the walls are torn and dulled in color, the piano dusty and the gold decorating it chipped. The sheet of music that sits on the piano’s music desk, that last night looked so fresh and pristine, now appears weathered and yellowed.

As you grab the blanket to pull it off you, you realize it isn't a blanket at all that is covering you, but a cape– Minho’s cape. And on the bed, just an arm’s reach away from you lies a note– the same kind that The Phantom always leaves behind inside the Opera Populaire.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, eyes straining to read it in the darkness. The message he leaves behind, when your eyes focus on the words well enough to read them, is quite simple. “To my beloved and beautiful Eurydice; welcome home.”

[princessbubblecup]

TV monster snatches stan.

Stanley is sittin' around in a (sketchy as hell) motel because he finally got the cash for one night on a bed, and he decides to turn on the really shitty, banged up (and frankly creepy) television in front of him because hey, its not like he has the opportunity to watch tv on the regular anymore. Might as well.

The Tv, just to his luck, is totally on the fritz, and he smacks it a few times to try and get the picture going. On the third smack, all the lights go out, and all he can see is the gray static hissing from the still-on screen. He lifts his hand, and that cuts out too, leaving the room in complete darkness.

There's the sound of breaking glass, crunching wood, and nails scraping against carpet. A shrill scream that is cut off.

The motel is quiet. The lights turn back on.

The Tv is still off, and in one piece. The room is still and undisturbed, save for a slight dent in the bedcover from being sat upon. It's also empty. Stan is gone.

So! Stan is in tv land. I think this monster puts its victims into their own little tv shows. It keeps them suspended, stuck in the form their "character" takes and molded to the rules of the show. They live and breathe only as they are shown, with no real power over their environment. They can try to move and act and speak out, but ultimately the Tv will cut the scene short, switch cameras, introduce plot twists, and have intervening side characters to keep the victim in check.

They arent even totally aware most of the time. They will have moments of clarity, of lucidity, of fourth wall breaking, but overall there is just a dim confusion and uncertainty in the world around them that plays into their silly little character profile.

Stanley would, if he was still a teen and early into his homelessness, be in a cartoon. An adventure type, with a zany cast and episodic trials that eventually lead to an overarching, more serious plot point that loses any real progress at the start of each new season. There isnt a moments rest, or any real explanation for any insane thing that happens. Everything is forgotten as quickly as its brought up, including all the extreme, life-threatening danger. The expectations are inhuman, and yet every accomplishment is rewarded by about a two minute celebration before its swept under the rug and it all starts over again. The stakes get higher and higher, and yet there are lengthy periods where they are simply not acknowledged for the sake of some petty side-story.

If he were older, it would be a horrible sitcom, where the same five problems keep occurring no matter how much development happens, and with every big change happening in an incredibly convoluted matter. Nothing is simple and yet everything is basic. Nobody takes anything seriously and yet acts as though every issue is the end of the world. Almost every joke involves a fairly fucked up circumstance that is played for just for laughs. Nothing is sacred, nothing is safe. Every little thing exists to be tampered with for entertainment, and yet the only real indicator most anything is funny is the intense laugh-track going off every five seconds.

Either way, its maddening.

For the sake of monstrousness, every time he breaches the surface level discontent for true panic and realization, it creates a horror point, where seriously dark and dangerous things show up and he is alone in recognizing and facing them. He barely gets away, and is thrust back mid episode, as though nothing ever happened, fog descended once more.

And, in true Tv format, it is able to suspend him like this for years, never really growing, reliving the same re-spliced scenarios over and over again with people that are caricatures, and really just puppets of the monster. Feeding on him, tormenting him, smothering his consciousness, but keeping him alive to be an indefinite food source.

AND! The Stan Show airs, though on low-publicity channels, as though it is a regular show. At least, it does on televisions in a place that might be susceptible to cryptic and anomalous happenings. A place like gravity falls, perhaps.

...

Does Stanford watch much Tv?

[freyadragonlord]

On the “Murderbot” Tv Show and Queerness

This is probably going to be my last post about Murderbot tv - because I don’t think I can bring myself to watch any more episodes of this show -, but I really want to get something off my chest about an issue that’s been increasingly concerning to me throughout these first five episodes, on the topic of the representation of queerness and the changes the show has made from the book.

And maybe, if I can, I will give you all a new prospective to consider, since I’ve seen many people praising the writer’s representation of Murderbot’s asexuality and aromanticism, just because they said they respect it in an interview. But I encourage you to instead look at what they have actually written in the show, and not just what they claim to believe in, when it comes to queer representation.

There are a few different but interconnected examples I want to talk about, starting what I’ve just mentioned,

1) Murderbot’s asexuality

First of all, Murderbot in the tv show is still asexual and aromantic, there’s no doubt about that. My issue comes with the way the show has decided to represent it, and the many, many scenes where Murderbot is actively tormented and harassed because of it.

In the books, Murderbot expresses its disgust and disinterest for sexual and romantic relationships plenty of times. It is an important part of its personality, and a constant source of exasperation for it.

But nobody else, human or bot, is ever concerned with Murderbot’s lack of romantic or sexual interest (with the exception of Amena in Network Effect, but even then she is talking about MB’s queerplatonic relationship with ART, using relationship terms because that’s what it she knows best and what best describes the situation (and even Murderbot has to begrudgingly admit her examples apply)).

Meanwhile, in the tv show, Murderbot’s asexuality is mostly shown through the perspective of the human characters, and/or as a reaction to being constantly sexualized. Mensah’s shocked stares at its lack of genitals, Ratthi calling it handsome, Leebeebee’s ogling, her focusing – once again, unnecessarily - on Murderbot’s penis or lack-thereof, and her kissing it without its consent.

In the show, Murderbot’s asexuality and aromanticism became an otherness, something that separates it from the humans, and something that has to be challenged, again and again and again. Murderbot is punished for it, by the same characters that even this early on into the story were supposed to be respectful of its boundaries and its personhood.

(But let’s not get into the completely butchered dynamic between Murderbot and the PresAux’s humans, that’s a whole other depressing mess I really don’t want to explore right now.)

Even the narrative and the plot focuses a lot more on romance and relationship drama than it ever did in the books, which brings me to my second point,

2) The Throuple

In a book series that contains plenty of healthy, established polyamorous relationships, the Murderbot tv show has for some reason elected to take one of the few monogamous relationship of the whole story, a relationship between two women, and add a man to the mix. This decision is…….. questionable.

And equally questionable is the way this throuple comes to be, with Arada having to literally beg her spouse to consent to it, Pin-Lee more than once throughout the episodes appearing to be awkward, uncertain, and uncomfortable about the situation. Just like for Murderbot’s asexuality, polyamory is not a normal part of the world-building and the characters life anymore, but it becomes a source of comedy and of unnecessary conflict.

(And I can already hear people’s objections to this, telling me that Well, the show is expanding the story and showing other people’s points of view, these are things that could have been happening all along and Murderbot just wasn’t paying attention to them.

And to this I will respond that No, Murderbot’s job is literally for the most part to stop the humans under its care from killing each other, so it is always paying extra attention to this kind of things. And at the beginning of All Systems Red, it specifically comments on how pleased it is that the PreservationAux team aren’t having any stupid relationship drama.)

Oh, speaking of stupid relationship drama!

3) Gurathin and Mensah

All I really want to say about this is why, but I am going to elaborate because once again, my personal discomfort with this plot point aside, I think there’s concerning undertones with the decision of having Gurathin be in unrequired love with Mensah.

In the books, Gurathin is the only human main cast member not to show any interest in sex or relationships. The narrative never says that he is asexual and/or aromantic (just like it never uses labels for any other character, as society has by this point evolved past its need for labels), but it is still something that could be easily argued to be true, especially once we consider that Gurathin is similar to Murderbot in many other aspects, like his paranoia, his awkwardness, and his bluntness.

The show didn’t have to explore this, as, again, it was never canon, but it is definitely a missed opportunity considering how much it connected Murderbot’s asexuality with its lack of genitals and its not being human. Having an asexual human characters would have helped to underline that asexuality isn’t something alien or robotic, just a natural part of the human experience.

But actually what bothered me most about this plotline, having Gurathin be in love/obsessed with Mensah, is unrelated to whether Gurathin is asexual or not. There’s a bigger issue, something that connects all of the points I have talked about so far, which is,

4) Men and women

Before I get into this I want to clarify, so please don’t misunderstand me, I am not trying to devalue bisexuality or to say that is not queer enough or anything like that. Arada and Pin-Lee are bisexual, and that is queer, and I appreciate the show including it, just like I appreciate them respecting and adopting Pin-Lee’s actor’s pronouns.

What I do want everyone reading this to think about, is the fact that of the three big romantic/sexual addiction the tv show has made from the book, 1) Leebeebee’s attraction to Murderbot, 2) Ratthi joining Arada and Pin-Lee, 3) Gurathin loving Mensah…

… All three of those involve adding attraction between men and women where before there was none.

(Again, I know Murderbot isn’t a man, and if it was played by a nonbinary actor instead of recognized male sex symbol Alexander Skarsgård, I would not bring this up at all. But Leebeebee’s comments, her focusing specifically on Murderbot having a penis, didn’t give me the impression she was considering it to be genderless.)

In the books, romantic/sexual relationships between women and men are so much rarer compared to relationship between same sex partners or nonbinary people that it would be funny, except that - in a world and a media landscape saturated with heterosexuality -, for a queer reader like me, it’s actually just…. Refreshing. It was comforting.

And the show changed that not once, not twice, but three time.

And to me, that feels deliberate.

[natailiatulls07]

Mick Schumacher x Platonic!reader Oscar Piastri x Platonic!reader Logan Sargeant x Platonic!reader Liam Lawson x Platonic!reader

Summary - Five young drivers, five different teams and one friendship group

Warning - One hate comment??

Reader drivers for Redbull

Part two three

-

yourusername

Back in the paddock, who's ready for the season??

Tagged: redbullracing

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and 203,479 others

username Can't wait for more success from our girlie

username We miss you, where have you been??!

= logansargeant She spent the whole winter break binge watching gossip girl and gilmore girls

= yourusername Shhhhhhhh

username Just waiting for the baby drivers content!!

liamlawson30 posted a story

logansargeant

Fuck I'm friends with some weird ass people

Tagged: mickschumacher liamlawson30 oscarpiastri yourusername

Liked by alex_albon and 202,735 others

username Nah Oscar's just being cute ngl

username Liam is giving main character energyyyy

yourusername Why is mine the worst one here omfggg??

= logansargeant Because you are the most weird one!

= yourusername I'm not sharing my sushi with you after the race this weekend

= mickschumacher Aww mate, you've really fucked up there lolll

yourusername posted a story

yourusername Should I die my hair Red?? Seriously debating it rn

OscarPiastri No, please no!

SchumacherMick Hell yeah! Fire hair!!

LiamLawson30 Oh god! Mick don't encourage her!!!! OMFG

LoganSargeant All I'll say is that you drive for Redbull, and the colour red is owned by a rival of yours

yourusername OMG YOU ARE SO RIGHT!! Let's do rainbow then!

LiamLawson30 Well done Logan! That worked well didn't it?

OscarPiastri I'm so done with you four, so done.

SchumacherMick You know you love us!!

mickschumacher

Y/n choose the group activity today and she choose sushi, surprise surprise! And Liam turned up in his Ken hoodie which he was very proud of lmao

Tagged: yourusername oscarpiastri logansargeant liamlawson30

Liked by georgerussell and 214,648 others

username That sushi looks sooo good thooo

username Is Y/n wearing friendship bracelets?? Please tell me she made the rest of the guys one each!!?

= username OMFG CAN YOU IMAGINE

liamlawson30 We should defo do sushi again!! I'm still very proud of my hoodie!

= yourusername I loved the hoodie!

Groupchat - Baby drivers (Mick-Purple / Logan-Blue / Oscar-Orange / Liam-White / Y/n-Pink)

HELP FUCK

WAIT WHAT?!

Mick what did you do?!?!

Are you in safety?!

Whats happened???!

I was stalking this girls page when I accidently liked a post from when she was fifteen!!

Aww mate you're screwed!

When she was fifteen?! How old is she now??

Damn you really fucked uppp

She's 23! So over seven years agooo

Yeah that's awkward ngl!

maxverstappen1

Soo thank you for the smashed trophy Y/n, always so helpful! :|

Tagged: redbullracing yourusername

Liked by yourusername and 223,781 others

username She really said 'Let's all share this win'

oscarpiastri I don't know why they trust her near trophies, pretty sure almost all of her own are broken

= yourusername Shhh, I'm trying my best to seem trust worthy

username Thing is she just laughed about it lol

= username I'm just glad that Max isn’t that annoyed, he joined in with her laughter

yourusername posted a story

f1gossip

Spotted: Redbull driver, Y/n L/n and Actor, Barry Keoghan are seen and paped leaving a restaurant together in Monte Carlo. From our sources, it looked like they were on a date and that they were both very intimate with each other. Do we have a new wag in the paddock and are we going to see one of our baby drivers walking a red carpet more often?

Liked by logansargeant and 59,572 others

username Y/n and Barry Keoghan??! The same Barry who was in Saltburn??!

username He is almost ten years older than her ewww

oscarpiastri Oh so this is how we find out...

= logansargeant Ikr!

= mickschumacher She said that she was busy at a redbull event tonight

= liamlawson30 Apparently nottt

username Not the other baby drivers finding out through this post!!!

Groupchat - Baby drivers

So Y/n how's the redbull event??!

Yeah are you and Max bored yet?

Yeahhh

Uh guys I can't really talk rn, me and Max are needed on stage to speak

Oh don't worry, say hi to Barry for us

Barry? Who's Barry??

You know Barry Keoghan, the Barry who you were seen cosying up to at a restaurant in MONTE CARLO

Yeah didn't know the new Milton Keynes is in Monte Carlo, crazy right!

Fuck you've seen the paparazzi photos right...?

Yep! So what's going on with Saltburn guy???

Yeah go on tell us how it went

Or how it's going

yourusername posted a story

-

[writerwrabbleswords]

Bongos (but male) | Logan Howlett X [Dilf] Reader

What Logan wouldn't give to have that damn DILF bent over...

  Quick Notes :  Thank you to our savior @/dorkszn for their glorious Dilf! Reader drabbles! The idea of a Dilf! Reader came directly from their posts, so be sure to give them a follow! Obviously this work is in no way related to their own, and is my own version of Logan and a Dilf! Reader. Please enjoy.

  Story Details :  1,300 words, Dilf! Reader referred to as ‘You/Your,’ Reader has twins, Readers children are animal mutants (bear), Readers children are named ‘Jett’ and ‘Hogan,’ Reader is divorced, Reader is about forty to forty-five, Reader is lightly implied to be a mutant, Reader is described as ‘having stubble,’ Logan is whipped for Reader, Logan ogles reader, and finally, sexual implications in almost everything Logan thinks

 Though, even he could admit a few of the kids stood out; there was a little red-head, about eight or so, whose mutation was a pair of wings (though they had only started growing in a few years earlier), and a teenage boy who frequently turned invisible to get away with stealing cigarettes (he never did, and Logan was the one to drag him to the professor's office). 

Despite working at the school for a few months, Logan was not fond of children. They were loud, frequently interrupted his smoke breaks, and often had mutations that they had little to no control over. In short, it was his personal hell. He only took the job because Chuck had asked him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he owed the man something (even if this job made him want to rip his hair out). 

  A gruff sigh left the older mutant, who fiddled with the cigar between his teeth as he leaned back against the wall of the hallway. It was getting dark, most students in their rooms and preparing for bed. Except, Logan could smell a few brats out and about, their scent making his nose twitch in disgust; they smelled like shit - like mud and the forest.

  His gaze was drawn towards the end of the hall by the sound of giggles - clearly children - and the sound of a heavy sigh soon following. Before Logan could push off to investigate, he blinked in surprise when the source of the noise rounded the corner.

  A man - a man he’d never seen but immediately needed to get to know - was carrying two children, one under each arm; You. At the sight of him, you gave him a tired grin, the crows feet on your eyes crinkling as he felt his heart thump against his chest. The mutant didn’t care if he was staring - you were downright sexy. You wore a shirt with the sleeves up past your elbows and a set of slacks that seemed to accentuate every part of your frame. What Logan wouldn’t give to see you bent over a-

  “Nice night, ain’t it?” You called out, shaking Logan from his thoughts as he took an inhale from his cigar to clear his mind.

  “Could be better,”

  He retorted, his eyes drifting to the two squirming mutants in your arms. They looked like you to a tea, their eyes the same color as yours with a nose to match - the only part that was different were the set of rounded ears on the brats heads. Logan guessed bear, but cat might have been it, too. Both the kids groaned, wriggling around as one tried to hit your side,

  “Papa, ‘s not fair!” one whined, making your gaze turn downwards as you arched a brow, “Yeah, papa! You never let us out into the trees!” The other added quickly.

  Instead of replying right away, Logan watched as you hoisted the two higher into the air and did a small spin, making their complaining turn to squeals of laughter.

  “You two can’t go outside without me because you roll in the mud,” You stated lightheartedly, coming to a stop as you affectionately glared at the two children in your arms.

  He shifted his focus to the two mutants, raising an eyebrow as he finally noticed the clumps of mud, dirt, and leaves that clung to the two - definitely bear, then. It was then that Logan took a more obvious look at your face, his cigar sitting in his mouth for a moment as he analyzed every little detail; you had stubble, as though you hadn’t shaved in a few days, and eyes that held a clear fondness for the two kids in your arms. His eyes moved downward, glancing at your visible forearms - hairy, but not too much so, with some muscle obvious. Fuck, you were his type. 

 “You know where I can find a hose? Or a bathtub?”

  Your voice pulled him out of his ogling, his gaze returning to your face as he grunted, pulling the cigar out of his mouth and exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

  “Med bay has bathtubs, should work for the… mud,” 

  Logan knew how he came across - mean, gruff, an asshole - but you didn’t seem to pick up on it, simply giving him that same tired smile before nodding and glancing down at your kids.

  “Alright, med bay it is! Come on, twerps, bath then bed; I’ve got to get all this mud out of your hair and fur,” 

The sound of your chuckle, gruff with age, made a shiver run down the older mutants’ spine. 

  “You guys new here?” He found himself asking out of curiosity, leaning against the wall again as his eyes raked over your form, “Haven’t seen your kids in any of my classes.”

  You paused, shifting the two mutants under your arms before holding them up one at a time, 

  “This is Hogan.” You raised the child in your right arm, “and this is Jett,” you raised the child in your left arm.

  Both children groaned at being named, beginning to squirm once more as they let out soft bear vocalizations - Logan filed that under something he hadn’t expected, but wasn’t surprised by.

  “Cute kids,” he stated, taking a long drag of his cigar before his gaze dropped to your legs.

  He could’ve sworn he saw one of your pant legs moved at his complement, but he brushed the thought aside as his own imagination, slowly trailing his eyes back up to your face. If you noticed, you didn’t call him out on his staring, instead focusing your attention on your mutant bear cubs with a fond huff,

  “Thank you, really. I got custody after their mother divorced me.” You stated it so bluntly that it made Logan nearly drop his cigar, though he quickly recomposed himself as you continued, “They’re my little bear cubs, all fuzzy and cute.”

  He watched as you cooed down at your children, a slight smirk tugging at his lips; you loved them, that much was clear.

  “Are they the ones who’ve been raiding the school's fridge at night?” 

  He asked jokingly, watching as your expression turned sheepish.

  “That… Is likely my boys, yes,” You said after a moment, adjusting the two bear mutants in your arms before sighing and shaking your head, “They eat like crazy. It’s hard to keep them full without handing them a snack every thirty minutes.”

  Hogan seemed insulted at your words, his expression turning into a fierce pout as he crossed his arms and sulked,

  “Papa not feed us! We need more food!” Jett immediately knew what his twin was doing and copied the boys’ pose, “Yeah! More food! More food!”

  The two bear mutants descended into a chant of ‘more food,’ causing an amused smile to cross your face - Logan wanted to see more than just that. He wondered what you’d look like blushing…

  “Well, we can have a snack after you two take a bath,” 

You said fondly, rolling your eyes as you began to walk down the hall towards the med bay. Before you walked too far, however, Logan watched as you turned around,

  “Got a name, stranger?” 

  He blinked, his mouth suddenly dry as he focused entirely on your, ahem, assets, which looked downright amazing in those tight slacks. Pulling his gaze away, he grunted, taking a pull from his cigar to try and clear the thoughts running through his mind.

  “Logan; Logan Howlett,” 

  He answered gruffly, finally returning his eyes to you as he caught the friendly smile you sent his way.

  “Nice to meet you, Howlett. I figure we’ll be seeing you around,”

  With that, you turned and continued towards the med bay, adjusting and joking with the two pouting bear cubs in your arms.

  In that moment, Logan realized he wanted you right fucking now. Multiple times, in his bed preferably, with you calling out his name as he-

 A gruff and irritated sigh pulled itself free, the mutant glancing down before he adjusted himself and began to walk towards his room. He needed a shower. A cold one.

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [1]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 5k

haha heyy I'm back after a year. Still suffering from writer's block so here's the start of a series I created during it, forcing myself to actually write. There's no set schedule but I'll try my best to do it weekly. That is all and pre-save Neva Play :DD

MASTERLIST || Next>>>

__________

Maybe you should've cut off your mother before you went past the age for mark appearances.

If you had then maybe you wouldn't be suffering with the overcompensating rant about an unfortunate man and his bare minimum achievements.

What are you, Bangtan's—The current biggest boyband in the world—makeup artists since their era of wearing thick eyeliners to convey their passion and emo inspired hairstyles, doing, listening to someone's so-called gratifying achievements?

Staring at the source of the grating voice babbling nonsense, you refrain yourself from letting out a heavy sigh.

Jeong Binwoo is a stout man. His roundness is enhanced by the fact that he's an inch or so shorter than you on a good day. His face reminds you of a dumpling, especially now that he's stuffing it with a handful of greasy fries in quick successions. Despite his full mouth, he kept on speaking and you swore a few stray blobs had landed on your plate.

You've only just a week and a half before the start of their tour in Seoul and here you are wasting your time sitting in front of a man whose awareness is limited to only himself when you could've been at work or binging some stupid cliche drama.

Maybe you should've listened to Namjoon's statistical analysis of your dates this year and never bothered going to this meeting as well.

Your mother's recommendations so far had never brought you a man decent enough nor carry an ounce of respect your father has for your mother. Why you still try and date them is a question you've asked yourself one too many times.

His rant was the standard overcompensating life story of a man unfortunate enough to be given an ugly mug and an even uglier fate. A conversation topic you've been subjected to far more often than you'd liked but still smooths out your brain every time you're forced to listen to it. It might not be but it must've been an hour already since he started listing out the same adult milestones he achieved in his 28th year—you've done the same at a younger age, 20 to be exact.

Binwoo reached for your fries shamelessly when his fingers found his bowl empty and you couldn't stop yourself from grimacing this time. 

He was actually decent , compared to the other guys you've met before whose mouth spouted bullshit even the devil himself would gasp at. The man actually bought you a gift and opened and held the door for you.

'How disturbing that you think the bare minimum is a sign of a good man, noona.' A voice suspiciously sounding like Namjoon echoes in your head and you sighed for the nth time that afternoon.

If you weren't so weak against your mother's wishes, you would've been doing work instead of putting up with horrid dates over and over again. You'd willingly take on styling an energetic Jungkook at 6am trying to dodge your brushes and play fights with them then sit in front of another insecure man.

A clang of a metal utensil making contact on the tile took your attention to the two men sitting a few tables in front of you. Suddenly, you're reminded of the lovely bodyguards who have volunteered to watch the mess that is your love life for lunch.

You caught one of their gaze when he looked over his shoulder, pitiful, before kicking his friend's leg and picking up his phone.

Immediately, a vibration rang from your bag and you checked the message as discreetly as you could.

            [13:24] Mimi: I feel so bad for you, noona. Is this really how guys are like these days?             [13:24] Mimi: It's appalling how he thinks finally getting his own space at 28 is impressive.             [13:24] Tete: do you need help? Please say yes, I don't think I can sit through the whole date and hear this bull.             [13:25] Tete: Just seeing it is mentally scarring enough, I can't imagine how you're feeling as the one that has to actually listen.

"Hey, are you still listening? I hope I'm not talking too much." A voice interrupts before you could reply.

Looking up from your phone, Binwoo's face now displayed a sheepish smile, the smear of ketchup on the edge of his lips not going unnoticed. His greasy hand had reached behind his head to scratch the back of his nape and you had to gather every strength in your body to not grimace when the same fingers he ate with met scalp.

You try not to notice how oily and stiff his hair already looked. You really tried.

You shook your head despite wanting it all to end for the sake of appearing respectful and the man immediately continued his empty boasting, the same hand he scratched his neck returning to claw down at your fries without another thought and immediately your phone pings again.

            [13:29] Mimi: did he just              [13:29] Mimi: did he just eat with the same hand he scratched with? On your plate of fries?             [13:29] Mimi: I'm gonna barf             [13:30] Mimi: Please free us from this torture, noona. My heart can only take so much             [13:30] Tete: Screw this, we're going back. I can't do this anymore

A screech of a chair being dragged through tile took your attention back to the masked men in front of you and saw the tall and imposing form of Taehyung marching towards your table, brown beanie hiding his dyed hair and a black mask covering half of his face.

"The fucking gull you have to show your face here after you ran away with my heart last week!"

You sigh internally and hope he's not about to choose an embarrassing trope to follow through this time.

If he takes on another dramatic golden-spooned CEO character who throws tantrums when he can't do or get what he wants, you might just stab yourself with the butter knife next to you. Witnessing and being on the receiving end of his tantrums, even if it's acting, in such a public place like the park once is enough.

With a silent wish that Tae has picked a good trope to follow this time, you followed his lead.

Comically widening your eyes, your gaze bounced from Taehyung and Binwoo with a mystified look before sputtering out a reply.

"Wo-Wooyoung! I thought you went back to the states! How's being home again feels like?"

"Is this how you're gonna be? You're just gonna act like everything's alright after you took my youth ?!"

A couple of gasps erupted from the guests around you, in the seas of scandalized reactions there's a burst of hushed giggles from one guy in black from a particular table and you refrain yourself from glaring at his ducked head and shaking shoulders. The phone pointed in your direction didn't go unnoticed, no doubt recording it all from start to finish to send to the group chat as he always does.

Ever your biggest supporter.

At this point, everyone in the restaurant is looking at the three of you. A glance at Binwoo told you of how close you are to freedom. The man has hunched his shoulders, shrinking into himself, trying to disappear from the public gaze while his eyes busied itself by tracing the details on the tiles. He has long stopped from eating now as he hangs his head in embarrassment, ashamed to be associated with you.

"Hey, I'm sorry man. I didn't know you were like that, in your profile it said that you were experienced in hammering."

"I do woodworking, of course I'm amazing at it!"

You hear a dull thud erupt from two tables over. At the edge of your eyes you see Jimin hitting the table with a closed fist, his giggles a little louder; enough to gather a few confused eyes but quiet enough to limit the range to the patrons next to him.

"I-I'm so sorry."

Binwoo flushes before darting out, towing his black suitcase that looked suspiciously light, away from the eyes of everyone in the restaurant and relief floods your body, muscles relaxing as you watch his form disappear behind the partition between the tables and the exit.

You stare up at Taehyung to find him already looking back at you with crinkled eyes past the dim shades he was wearing, his cheekbones poking above the mask as he smiled.

With your date finally out of the shot, Jimin's laughter explodes into loud cackles of a mad man as he stands, stumbling before he manages to approach you both. When he was close enough, he latched onto Tae's arm to stabilize himself as he held up his phone with the camera app open. Immediately, everyone's displeasure echoed in the room at the implication that the intense scene they just witnessed was a part of a vlog.

Despite how much of a spur of a moment their plan seemed, the duo has managed to construct a simple start and conclusion to their plan and you couldn't be more proud of your smart boys.

Taehyung turned to the mass and bowed.

"I'm sorry for disrupting everyone's afternoon, I was just saving my sister from a bad date and decided to make a vlog out of it. We're really sorry." Taehyung exclaimed.

The disturbed patrons' voices grew louder and angrier, a few attempting to approach your little group to possibly get physical.

Next thing you know, Tae's grabbing the paper gift bag your date has given you earlier before reaching to your and Jimin's hand and pulling you both out of the restaurant at full speed with a wide grin, leaving behind indignant screams of 'YA!' . You couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling out of your chest as you three raced down to the stairs, taking the safer and the long way down. You'd regret the decision later once your age kicks in and the ache on your knees comes but the thrill thrumming under your skin keeps you occupied.

They'd probably ban you from ever entering the establishment but for now, you could care less, the place felt too pretentious for you anyways.

The laughter didn't stop even when you entered Taehyung's car, your joined delight bouncing off the small space and when it ceased, a satisfied silence followed. You and Jimin sag to your seats as the giggles die down, arms clutching your stomachs while Taehyung hunches over the wheel.

Even with how ridiculous the youngest decides on how to go about destroying a date, you couldn't deny the overflowing gratitude you hold for the guy for selling his dignity. Although as an idol with an interesting internet background, you doubt he still has one.

"Wow, that went better than I expected."

"I'm never taking you both to my dates again."

Jimin rolled his eyes at you, lips tugged into a grin. "You say that and take us anyways."

"I'm so glad Tae didn't pull another jealous CEO persona, I was so embarrassed that day!"

"Hey! I still got you out so it's not that bad!" Tae protests, turning to the both of you on the backseat. "At least I didn't act like an embarrassing ex that cried and begged on his knees by the outlook!"

Jimin's swat was quick and Tae hissed and gasped dramatically, cradling his arm as if it was broken by the slap.

"Now he's trying to hit me!"

"Nonetheless, we did so well ruining your dates this month, noona. I think we deserve some reward." Jimin's lips tugged up into a sly smile, eyes glimmering with mischief as he suggestively raised his eyebrows.

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

Before you returned home, you had Tae stop by the nearest grilling restaurant to treat the two of them to a couple of orders of meat. If Jimin looked like a kicked puppy upon realizing you've misinterpreted his words, you didn't say anything.

In your defense, he didn't specify what he wanted. Even if he did, you wouldn't have entertained his flirty jokes.

Not a minute longer since the three of you had seated yourselves at a secluded corner at the far back of the restaurant did Jimin's phone ring. You didn't have to look at the screen to know it was Jungkook, ever so eager to hear about how his hyungs managed to scare off your date this time.

He treats it like he was watching those public prank videos on the internet but instead of random targets, it was your dates.

When the video call loads in, you are met with the sight of Jungkook and Jin sharing half the screen while the stylists hands tend to their hairs, stuck deciding between leaving a strand astray from their elevated fringes or keeping it neat.

"Hyung, did you manage to do what you were telling me last time?"

Taehyung grinned. "You should've seen how they all reacted!"

As Taehyung recalled the event with exaggerated movements and expressions—with Jimin adding his extraordinarily unique perspective every now and then—the plates full of meat to grill and bowls of rice you ordered came. Immediately, they were recognized by the waitress who bowed her head at them before shyly asking for an autograph. If you felt her eyes burning a hole through your skull throughout the encounter, you pretend not to notice.

You've introduced yourself as their make-up artist early on in their career, sneaking into their hearts with behind-the-scenes photographs of their idols. A few photographs in exchange of their respect which the boys and the company allowed. Even then, you wouldn't be able to avoid exchanges like these.

Once the waitress was gone, the boys continued to delight the others with their tales. They laughed and expressed their disgust, picking apart your date piece by piece down to his last molecule but as they continued noting down their observations, you started to feel that they're making up random facts out of spite.

Like, what do you mean you saw the guy kept wiggling in his seat to subtly scratch his ass? How did you even see that, Jimin?

But due to them sneaking out to be your guard dogs, they were called to return soon by an unimpressed Namjoon who took over the phone call at some point, threatening them with Hoseok who just laughed in response. You didn't miss the opportunity to rub your week-long rest in their faces with a smile when Taehyung and Jimin tried pouting their way out of punishment.

They ended up being given the chance to at least finish their food before they're given the countdown when Jimin bribed them with takeout.

"Come with us to drink that memory away instead, noona! Hyung and I are better drinking buddies anyways."

You waved Hoseok off. "I don't think Sejin would appreciate me distracting you guys more than I already do."

"Look into my eyes and say that you don't want to drink the memory away!" Yoongi said matter-of-factly from somewhere in the background.

"We won't even drink much, promise!"

"Stop lying to yourself, Hoba. We know you'd tap out after the third glass."  Jin snickered.

"Hey, I've changed! I can do four now."

Before you could further shoot his idea down, your phone flashes open with a ring displaying your mother's name and your heart drops. As if sensing the change in the air, their heads perked up to look at you.

You knew she'll contact you eventually but seeing her name on the screen glare back at you, a shiver wracks down your spine.

"Who is it?" 

"It's my mom."

Jimin and Taehyung gasped, shushing the people on the other line like kids trying to hide a stray pet from their parents who came home as you answered the call.

"Hello my dearest daughter, tell me why the hell did Binwoo's mother just call me to tell me that you've been going around stealing people's youths?! I don't remember raising you to be such a person!"

Despite not having the call on speaker, her rage is loud enough for the other two to hear. Instead of sending pitying looks towards you like a proper friend should, they were grinning and trying to stop themselves from cackling. Your mother's screeching evolved into rapid fire scolding with barely any breathing in between, sending your companions into silent laughter.

You could only glare as Taehyung threw his head back as he guffawed noiselessly while Jimin had hunched over the table, his shaking shoulders being the only indicator that he too was laughing.

Kicking them both under the table, you gathered the courage to interrupt your mother so she could breathe.

"Mom, it was just a friend who wanted to save me from Binwoo."

"A friend?!? A friend my foot! He must be an-uh what do you call it these days—a friend with benefits! Here I thought you've been busy fussing over those Bangtan boys to fool around!"

At this, their ears perked up, attention falling to yours.

"God! If you just started dating them then I wouldn't have to stress myself over finding you a husband!"

Taehyung sobers up, playing with the meat on the grill as he whispers. "Oh I wish auntie but noona is too professi—ow!"

Your foot swiftly connects with his shin and Taehyung hunches over the table, hand disappearing down to cradle his foot.

"I assure you, Mom, if you've seen how he acted, you'd thank your daughter for dodging such a disgusting guy. He didn't even ask me permission to eat my fries!"

"Aishhhhh! If you were here I would've hung you upside down in a sack outside our house! God, I'm gonna have a cardiac arrest because of you!"

"The guy is really my friend, mom! It's the same guy who interrupted my dates before. Remember the crazy CEO?"

"I know I know! But with how picky you are, you'll end up alone! I know you're trying to wait for your soulmate but you're 26 now! You're way past the maximum marking age!"

Taehyung and Jimin fall silent as an awkward silence settles between your group, continuing to place their pork into the leaves and engulfing them almost meekly; almost because the way they ate the wrap is far from graceful.

You've known that for a year now, accepted your fate but the reminder made your heart ache. Imagine how it was for a hopeless romantic, who dreamt of fated meetings and whimsical red strings on your pinkie, to find out that they're untethered. Even then, a small part of you, a much younger version, keeps hoping for a chance that you're just a late bloomer.

Who wouldn't want true love for themselves?

Even a solitary man would crave affection.

"I-I know that. But you can't expect me to settle for less, you wouldn't want to see your dear daughter in a miserable marriage do you?"

There's a deep sigh from the other line and you could imagine your mom pinch the bridge of her nose before she spoke:

"I'm just worried, I hope you understand. I'm not getting any younger. Your older brother and sister already have their own family and seeing them happy while you're still on your own, it hurts this old woman's heart, you know?"

There's a quick succession of dull thuds from across the line and you assumed your mother was hitting her chest with her fist, ever the dramatic.

Jimin flips the newly added meat on the grill, taking the cooked strips to distribute between yours and Taehyung's bowl. It was such a small gesture yet it made your stomach flutter for a second. Always the caring and golden hearted boy you've met years ago that never hesitated to give you hugs and make you smile either with exaggerated movements or from touch alone.

If only there's more Jimin in the world, you would've been married a long time ago and you wouldn't have to deal with your mother's horrible matchmaking.

You sighed. "I know, I'm trying my best so don't worry too much."

"That's my youngest. Now, since you're trying, I have another—"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Mom, please."

"I swear this guy is better. He's a lawyer, 30 years old, and he's got a penthouse!"

There's a shrill ding! from your phone and you turned to look at your screen to find yourself staring back at a picture of the suitor your mother was just talking about. In a blink, Jimin and Taehyung have teleported  behind you with side dishes in hand as they peered over your shoulder to look at the photo.

The picture was roughly cropped and showed a man in a tailored black suit leaning against what looks like his mother from how similar the shape of their eyes and lips are. He had his coat hanging from his arm, giving you a full view of how his chest and shoulders filled out his white button up. With a narrow and refined jawline, topped off with good hair waxed into a small quiff and a pair of sunken dimples on each side of his bowstring lips, as an idol's makeup artist, you wondered how it is possible for him to be single.

But what distracted you more was how your mother has sent you someone visually appealing instead of the challenged men she had recommended to you. It's making the ends of the hair on your arm stand up.

It's new and it's creeping you out.

You make a mental note to ask your father about her strange behavior.

"His name is Yoo Guwon, isn't he good looking? His mother and I met at the salon by the market in front of your aunt Jia. I saw him once and he looks exactly like he does in that picture!"

"He looks good."

A hiss following a slap muted by thick clothing erupted from behind you, looking over your shoulder, you see Taehyung staring at Jimin with a shocked and betrayed expression.

"What are you doing?! You're supposed to be against this!"

"Well now that you've mentioned it," Jimin hums, crossing his arms as he leaned closer over your shoulders. "He does look like a manipulator. He has the eye and facial structure for it."

You turned to him with a puzzled expression. "What do you even mean—"

"No no no wait, I can see what you mean." Taehyung butts in, narrowing his eyes as he also inched closer to the screen on the other side of your face before reaching over to expand on the man's face.

You furrowed your eyebrows, still not seeing how a skull's formation could mean manipulator in their eyes. But before you could ask how they came to the conclusion, your mother gasped.

"Is that one of your boys? Taehyung and Jimin?"  

"Yeah, I took them out for some meat since they saved me earlier."

"Oh? Put me on speaker, I want to talk to them!" You obeyed her and hummed a confirmation before holding your phone towards them. "I hope my daughter hasn't disrupted your busy schedules to play jealous exes for her."

Jimin laughs. "It's nothing too much, auntie~ She took great care of us back then, it's just us repaying the debt! Besides, I like watching her fail her dates!"

"Oh aren't you quite mischievous?" Her tone was teasing and delighted as she giggled. "Don't enjoy it too much, okay? My daughter needs to get married soon!"

"Don't worry too much, auntie! I also want our noona to find a good husband!"

"What a sweet boy! Too bad company rules can't let you date, I would've loved you as my son-in-law."

A smile stretched across Jimin's face as he shyly laughed, hiding his delight behind a hand. "You can't say that and expect me to not try and court your daughter, auntie!"

"What about me, auntie? I sold my dignity just to push away her creepy suitors when hyung only sat back to record. I did a lot!" Taehyung jumps in with a pout, feeling left out of the conversation.

"Any of you boys are welcome in my family as long as my daughter is married and treated well! Ok, I'll stop now since I have some friends to meet up with. Visit me soon, my lovely daughter!"

After saying your goodbyes and your i-love-you's, the call ends. Immediately, your phone was fished out from your hands by Taehyung as the two boys returned to their seats, zooming in on Guwon's face and speaking in hushed whispers among themselves. At least until Jin and Jungkook's insistence to be included in the discussion came booming.

"Ya Taehyung! Aren't we friends for so long? Why are you not showing us the picture like a normal friend would do? Forward it to the GC!"

Even after forwarding the picture to the GC, they're still far from pleased after being ignored for so long. Jungkook and Jin didn't spare any words from expressing their wrath, especially the elder. A problem easily buried for everyone to forget with an offer of bringing food when they come home. Your mother expressing her openness to the idea of having any of your bosses as your husband seems to breeze past their heads. You do have an inkling they'll discuss amongst themselves later on.

Soon, Jimin and Taehyung are dropping you at your apartment building, parting ways with hugs before they leave.

Since you've finally claimed some of the absent days you've gathered throughout the years for a nice week off before the eventual tour, you decided to take full advantage of it by treating yourself with a nice night in, stuffing yourself with ice cream and an unhealthy amount of pizzas. Doors locked and blinds shut.

Just you and your TV.

And the generic drama that's playing before you.

It's about a poor girl who got rescued by a handsome rich man who has an obsessed admirer and a family who opposes their relationship despite the soulmate mark they both wore due to their different levels in society.

The trope has been overused but you indulge in it anyways.

But as the night gets deeper and the plot thickens to its climax, you find yourself slowly liking it. Watching the young couple be domestic around their apartment, your heart starts to yearn. Their kisses looked fantastical and sweet, as if the taste of each other could energize them for the whole month. 

You watched as brief passing touches scream louder than words, eyed the way their arms wrapped around waists with jealousy and wondered when you'd be able to experience such a thing too.

Emotional torture is what you're doing but you couldn't find it in yourself to stop watching it.

You remembered how realization felt like plunging into the darkest depths in the ocean, cold and harsh, the pain in your chest when your 21st passed by without any notable changes in your life. 

You recalled how you'd wake up and excitedly look over your skin for a hint everyday with no fail, hoping for a telltale sign that you weren't assigned to a fate of love bare of the genuine and rawness of a soulbond. The devastation gnawing at your dreams when your 21st ends uneventfully and the 22nd comes with the same nothingness still fresh in your mind.

There wasn't a cure for being untethered but you learned soon how to accept your fate. Having your friends comfort you through those years helped. From the maknaes' grounding tight hugs to Yoongi's silent support in the form of distractions and Seokjin's insistence on how unimportant soulmates are, healing came easier with them by your side.

Being untethered or alone isn't a disease cured by human medicine but you think your friends' support came close.

Your phone then vibrates, taking you out of the train of thought you got yourself into, screen lighting up to a message from an unknown user.

            [21:39] Unknown: Hey, it's me Yoo Guwon. Your mother gave me your number and said to contact you first because you might be busy with work.

None of the suitors your mother has brought forth has ever worked out. At this point, you should ask her to stop and try to find a good man yourself.

But none of them ever made the effort to reach out first.

But he's a lawyer and you know damn well what they're good at .

He looks cute and tall though, got a good background as well.

Everyone before him also had that.

With a heavy exhale, you picked your phone up and opened his message.

            [21:40] You: Hello, I'm actually on a week-long break so I'm just rotting on my couch instead haha

"That's too awkward." You muttered to yourself, subconsciously biting your lips as you rephrased the message a couple more times, frantically deleting and adding words onto your ever growing introduction message.

But then it's too wordy, it makes you sound desperate so you deleted it all again, starting once more from the beginning.

You didn't even get to send it when Guwon sent another message.

            [21:48] Yoo Guwon: I'm free tomorrow, I hope you are too. What do you usually like to do?

He's giving me options? You stared at the screen with furrowed eyebrows before narrowing at it suspiciously.

What's up with this guy? Why isn't he taking the lead?

            [21:50] You: I'm more often working and staying at home than visiting places so I don't know where ;-;. I'll go wherever you want to go.             [21:51] Yoo Guwon: It's fine, just send me your address and I'll pick you up tomorrow at 9am, dress formal casual.

Throwing your phone to the side, you reached for the canned beer from your table and took a long sip before titling your head back to stare at the ceiling. There's a careful rise in your heartbeat, a traitorous action of your body. It was hopeful and you hated how you felt like that, you sighed again for the nth time that day but for a different reason.

Your mind takes you back to the mischievous duo, wondering if you should take one of them for this date but find yourself shutting the idea down as quick as it came. The guy looks decent enough for a solo adventure, going alone shouldn't hurt.

Maybe this time will be different.

[anon-sect]

Picture source: anonymous

Anonymous Requested story

Quenton had lost their friendly bet once again. Lee and him would often challenge each other on their favorite PS5 sport games on who was better. Lee did lose one time. He got to wear him as his shoes for a week, which he rather enjoyed. But he was the one usually losing most of the time. The last time he lost, Lee turned him into underwear and wore him for a week and a half. This last time he lost to his friend, he was turned into a pair of socks.

Quenton slightly dread losing this time time. Lee had threatened to wear his hold worn-out shoes for the entire week. He saw that Lee wasn't lying one bit. This wasn't the first time that Lee turned him into socks, though. He was sort of merciful last time that he did. Before being changed into a pair of socks via the TF Pro Max app, he saw a sadistic grin on his friend's face.

Lee put on a pair of shoes that were at least five years old. They reeked of his strong foot odor. "Sorry, but you lost again, buddy. It's sock time again." He laughed heartily as he tied his shoe strings, securing them to his feet. The thought of Quenton trapped in that musk and sweat amused him. He had several errands to run. He was definitely going to have fun walking in his old shoes wearing him as his socks.

Quenton saw this was much worse than the last time as socks. The shoes smelled horried. The insoles were slightly worn down. He could smell and taste the result of sweat and musk collected over the years. This was the pair that Lee had worn barefoot many times. He wondered how long he would be socks this time.

Lee normally was uncomfortable wearing his current shoes because of how bad the insoles were. Yet, making Quenton into a pair of durable, super comfortable socks solved that problem with these sneakers. His feet felt good with each step.

Quenton felt tremendous pain, almost like double pain. He felt the pressure of Lee's feet crushing him every time he walked or just stood still. And he felt like knives were stabbing him from the bottom by the worn down insoles beneath him. Being pressed into it made is even worse. He could taste everything around him with such intensity. His sense of smell was at a 1000% beyond normal human senses. He wanted to complain and beg for mercy, but he lost fair and square. He made a promise that he would win the next game once Lee turned him back to normal. He was going to to the same thing rigiht back.

Lee knew that Quenton would make him pay if he lost a game to him, but he was going to make sure that never happened. He knew he would be able to distract his friend with his bare feet like always. Quenton had a weakness for his bare feet. Two weeks as his socks would be his friend's fate, then he would change him back to normal. Next, he might change him into a pair of insoles for his current sneakers when he loses again. That thought made Lee laugh as he continued doing his errands, enjoying the comfort, while Quenton had all the pain.

[2i1han]

Slowly, Then All at Once

1 : before it all began , slowly

pairing: classmate!leehan x fem!reader │word count: 8k

genre: slow-burn , young adult, coming-of-age , romcom

tags: boynextdoor , non-idol au, high school/college au , first love , neighbor!leehan , extrovert!leehan , cold!leehan , extrovert!reader

characters mentioned : kim leehan , kim woonhak , sakai moka , kim minji , han taesan , park minju , jung wooyoung , ham jinsik

warnings: no warnings! sfw

synopsis : you and leehan have always known each other—classmates since ninth grade, always familiar but never really close due to leehan's indifference. but when his brother enters the picture, and you ending up in the same building as him, everything starts to change. unresolved situation that were once buried begin to surface, and leehan must decide: let go or finally take a chance.

a/n : hi, everyone! this is my first fanfic on tumblr, and i’m still getting used to the platform. this story will be divided into five full parts, so if you enjoy it, i’d really appreciate your support! i’ll be updating regularly, usually every 2 days. enjoy!

♪ playlist : midnight fiction/illit , so let's go see the stars/boynextdoor , serenade/boynextdoor , but i like you/boynextdoor , so tender/say sue me , bad/wte , light/wte , chocolate/bol4 , some/soyou , would you love me/stella jang , everyday/haebin , star drawing/yuziii , apple cider/beabadoobee

middle school

the morning was still young, and the sun had barely risen. the classroom remained dim, the fluorescent bulbs providing the only source of light while the first rays of sunlight had yet to seep in. the room was silent, occupied only by two students minding their own business-and a brunette boy sitting by the window, lost in thought.

"hey! kim leehan!"

a loud, enthusiastic voice called from the doorway, instantly breaking the quiet.

before leehan could even turn to see who it was, a familiar presence loomed over him. his friend was already there, grinning and scratching his head.

"stop it!" leehan chuckled, standing up to pull his friend in for a quick dap.

"it's the first day of your last year as a middle schooler. how does that feel, hyung?"

woonhak, ever the energetic one, nudged leehan's arm before plopping down in the seat beside him, a wide grin on his face.

leehan smirked, leaning back in his chair. "nothing out of the ordinary. school is still school," he said, voice hinting with indifference as he shifted slightly to face woonhak more comfortably.

woonhak let out an exaggerated sigh. "nothing to say about missing me? you'll leave again for high school next year." he rolled his eyes, sulking. "it's just like when i was in fifth grade, and you moved here for middle school."

leehan huffed out a small laugh at his friend's dramatic antics.

they had been best friends since their early years in elementary school. leehan, ten at the time, and woonhak, eight. being two years apart, but that never stood in the way of their friendship. if anything, their differences made them an even better match, with leehan's matured, and calm-extroverted appeal balancing out woonhak's childish and loud aura.

school didn't excite leehan much, not that it did for his friend either. but while kim why would i even need algebra in a performing arts university woonhak, treated school like a never-ending chore, leehan simply went through the flow, doing what was necessary without getting too caught up in it. outside of class, his world was split between two passions: music, and nature.

he spent hours in his room, practicing vocals and perfecting dance moves in front of his mirror, losing himself in the rhythm of the music. whether it was a slow ballad or an intense choreography, he found an escape in the way his body moved to the beat, in the way his voice carried emotion that words alone couldn't. performing gave him a sense of control, a rush of energy that school never did. but when he wasn't singing or dancing, he sought quiet comfort in his other hobbies, raising fish and tending to his plants.

his aquariums, filled with different species, were his personal oasis. he could watch them for hours, mesmerized by the way they glided through the water, unbothered by anything beyond their glass world. his room smelled of greenery, lined with potted plants he carefully nurtured. he liked the balance of it all. music filled him with energy, while his fish and plants gave him peace.

occasionally, he'd swing by woonhak's place to make music together, testing out harmonies or working on choreography late into the night. woonhak, ever the extrovert, always had something new planned, dragging leehan into whatever wild idea he had. not that leehan is the biggest introvert, nor minded, he loved performing just as much. he just didn't show it as openly as woonhak did.

despite his mixed feelings about school, his grades weren't bad. he was smart enough to keep up without trying too hard, unlike woonhak, who barely scraped by with last-minute cramming and a whole lot of luck.

"of course, i'll miss you." leehan sighed, shaking his head. "but the high school I'm going to is just near hongik. i'll visit you after classes. it's not like i'm moving overseas." he rolled his eyes before chuckling. "you're so dramatic."

woonhak let out a whine, slumping onto his desk. "well, can you blame me? this is my first year finally being in the same middle school as you, and it'll also be our last. i barely survived sixth grade without your help in elementary." he pressed his palms against his forehead, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "i have to lock in, hyung."

leehan chuckled "yeah, you should. you'll be on your own again next year." he leaned back, arms crossed. "let's just enjoy this one while it lasts, woon. save the worrying for later."

his friend peeked up from his hands, lips tugging into a small smile. "fine. but you better not forget about me when you're off being a cool high schooler."

leehan rolled his eyes again, but there was also brotherly warmth in his eyes. "as if i ever could. also, call me leehan-sunbaenim from now on," he said, completely straight-faced while pretending to look at his phone

woonhak just dramatically turned his head to leehan and let out an aish, throwing him an unimpressed look. leehan, however, burst into laughter, clearly enjoying his friend's reaction.

"that was cringe," woonhak muttered.

"how is calling your senior by a proper title cringe? hey, kim woonhak, where are your manners?" leehan teased in an exaggeratedly authoritative tone, crossing his arms like a disappointed teacher.

woonhak rolled his eyes but is chuckling. "you're still a year away from being a highschooler. i will not obey you."

leehan just rolled his eyes barely able to finish a sentence between chuckles.

they spent the rest of their free time chatting, catching up on summer, mostly woonhak complaining about how fast it ended and leehan roasting him for his questionable choices.

as time ticked on, leehan glanced at the clock and raised a brow. "woonhak, are you seriously still here? your class is in the other building."

his friend just waved off his concern like he was swatting away a fly. "oh, no, it's still early. it's not like the bell's gonna ring any sec-"

ring

the school bell blared through the hallways, as if it heard woonhak talking.

"you've got to be kidding me," he groaned, lazily scrambling to grab his bag.

leehan who's already gasping for air, tapped him on the back. "kim woonhak, good luck today," he teased.

woonhak shot him a glare as he rushed toward the door, waving over his shoulder. "catch you later, peace!"

the minute slipped away like a gust of wind, and before leehan knew it, their teacher was already standing at the front of the classroom.

"good morning, teacher," the students greeted in unison, rising briefly before settling back into their seats.

"good morning, everyone. settle down," the teacher instructed, adjusting his glasses as he placed a stack of papers on his desk. "now, before we begin, i'd like to introduce a new student who will be joining us for the school year."

then, the classroom stirred. students exchanged whispers, some craning their necks to get a better view of the doorway. the air buzzed with curiosity and the murmurs resembled a beehive.

with a subtle glance from the teacher, the new student, you, stepped in. you had a short hair that barely reached your neck, neatly parted to the side, wispy bangs, and pair of round glasses sat comfortably on your tall nose, framing your soft and slightly chubby cheeks. unlike most new students who fidgeted or hesitated, you walked in with an effortless calm.

"hello, everyone! my name is y/n. i'm 15 years old and just moved into the neighborhood down the street. i hope we can all be friends!" you bowed lightly with a voice that's bright and confident. you had a natural ease, as if introducing yourself to a room full of strangers was something you did every day.

a few students nodded approvingly, while others leaned in to whisper among themselves. you can see other students already smiling at you, while others just talked to each other.

meanwhile, the teacher scanned the room for a vacant seat. his eyes landed on leehan and the empty chair beside him. as if you're also following your teacher's vision, you see the quiet boy who seems lost in his own little world.

"you can sit there, next to that boy by the window," he said, gesturing toward leehan's row.

you nodded, and just as you're about to move, a student behind leehan raised a hand.

"sir, han taesan sits there. he's just absent today." and you're stopped to your track, standing there. though, you admit that it felt awkward, at least for yourself.

the teacher paused, nodding in acknowledgment, then began eyeing around the class again. after a brief scan, his gaze landed on a seat in the second row.

"alright, you can take that seat instead."

you nodded again, and made your way to your new spot, and within moments, you had already struck up a conversation with your seatmate, you always had this welcoming demeanor that contrasts the usual stiffness of first-day introductions. even as a kid, your parents would already describe you as a social charmer and a people person. extroverted, but balanced.

the first few periods blurred together in a haze of just few introductions for the start of the school year. the morning sun had crept higher, casting beams of light through the windows, and shining dust particles that swirled in the air. you sat comfortably listening to each hellos and my name is your classmates presented. even though the entire class you're new at already knew each other since the beginning of middle school, the new teachers are still yet to know them, and so do you.

when the bell finally rang for break, students wasted no time swarming out the door, dying to stretch their legs and escape the classroom, and you are no exception.

you had no trouble blending in. you'd already found a group to sit with, chatting easily as they made their way toward the school café.

and just as you're about to leave, your eyes caught sight of leehan, who unlike the rest of the class that had scattered in pairs or groups, remained at his desk. his left elbow rested against the desk supporting his chin, while his right hand moved lazily over a notebook, jotting something like it's straight out of an ancient manuscript with his illegible handwriting.

you admit. leehan's expression was unreadable. as a person who's good with people, scanning through people's thoughts or emotion by their body language is a piece of cake to you, but leehan? he's neither focused nor completely absent, as if his mind is hovered somewhere between a coherent thought or nothingness.

curious, and being the social butterfly ever, you adjusted your glasses and approached him.

"hello, i'm y/n. what's your name?" you said with a wave.

leehan didn't react immediately, and for a second, you thought he'll ignore you. instead, he finished the last stroke of his writing before slowly lifting his gaze. his eyes flickered towards you, scanning your face with little to no recognition, as if you're someone he sees daily.

"leehan. kim leehan," he replied flatly. his voice was low and unamused, giving the smallest head nod. his lips curved into an almost nonexistent smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

the contrast between you and him was almost like seeing black and pastel colors from the point of view of a third person. you, with your bright, welcoming energy, stood opposite leehan, whose presence seemed more like muted, but not completely colorless either.

still, you were unfazed. but you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a tinge of awkwardness, or maybe even concern.

not everyone you met responded positively to your friendly nature, and that was fine. but something about leehan felt strange. he didn't seem uncomfortable around you, nor did he try to avoid the conversation. yet, at the same time, there wasn't even a hint of enthusiasm in his words and actions. it was as if he existed in a space between acknowledgment and indifference.

"are you not going to grab a snack with a friend? you can sit with us!" you offered in a warm and inviting tone.

leehan barely hesitated before pressing his lips together. "no, i'll be out. thank you," he said in the same monotone, standing up, and nodding his head subtly as he slung his jacket over his shoulders.

without waiting for a response, he walked past you heading toward the door, most likely in search of woonhak.

you just tilted your head slightly looking back at the door watching him go. if you're bothered by his lack of interest, you didn't show it. instead, you just shrugged it off deciding that leehan was probably just the reserved, introverted type.

that thought lingered in your mind for a moment before you went off with a quiet sigh. whatever it was, you figured you'd understand him better with time. with that, you turned away and made your way toward the café, where your new friends were waiting.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"class dismissed."

and just like that, the first day of classes in your new school comes to an end. the ring of the bell echoes through the hallways, and the classroom instantly bursts into motion. students scrambling to shove books into their bags, some reapplying makeup, others fixing their hair, and chatting away about everything and nothing.

you stand from your seat, adjusting the strap of your bag as you turn to face minji, your newly made friend. "where are you headed after class?" you ask, casually stuffing your things inside your bag.

minji, in the middle of combing her sleek black hair, tilts her head in thought. "hmm, i don't know. ask moka. i'll just tag along wherever you guys go."

moka, seated beside you, stops fussing with her hair long enough to glance up. "it's only 4:40 pm. how about karaoke?" she suggests.

you nod in agreement, and minji hums in approval. "okay, well then, hurry your butts up," moka adds, snapping her compact mirror shut.

you lean toward the small mirror in her hand giving yourself a quick once-over. with just a simple tuck of your hair behind your ears, a few pats to settle your bangs into place, and a slight nudge to adjust your thick-framed glasses, you're good to go.

"alright, done. let's go?" moka asks, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

you and minji nod in sync, stepping out into the busy hallway. but just as you're about to walk away, your gaze drifts back into the classroom, landing on the seat across the room.

leehan is still there, quietly packing up. alone.

there's something about him that makes you hesitate. it's not pity, not exactly. you've always had this habit of noticing people who seem isolated, of wanting to make them feel included. but over time, you hated it. you've realized that not everyone who sits alone is lonely. and not everyone who is quiet is sad.

still, the thought didn't stop you as you take a step forward, considering approaching him-

"kim leehan, work your slowass up, we got a gig to waaaaatch!"

a voice booms through the doorway like a bomb being dropped, so loud it cuts through the noise of the corridor crowd. you nearly jump at the volume. turning your head, you see a boy bolting into the classroom, all energy and mischief.

leehan looks up at the source of the noise. he saw you standing on the doorframe, and woonhak approaching him. but his whole attention seemed to be only towards his friend. and that's when you see it— his entire demeanor shifts. his lips curve into a genuine smile, his eyes scrunching up with amusement as he watches woonhak walk towards his desk.

the sight catches you off guard.

that smile, it's real, and bright, almost like there's a light shining behind him.

you realize then that leehan isn't some tragic, brooding loner. he's not an outcast, not sad, not lost. he has a friend. a good one, by the looks of it.

a quiet chuckle escapes you as you shake your head, cringing at your own assumptions.

i misinterpreted people again, you think, making a mental note to quit assuming stories to strangers before actually knowing them.

with that, you turn back to moka and minji, linking arms with them as the three of you make your way down the hallway.

as leehan and woonhak followed towards the door and to the hallway, the latter nudged him with a mischievous grin. "so, how was your day?"

leehan exhaled through his nose. "it was fine. there's a new student."

"ooooh." woonhak's eyes lit up. "is it a girl?"

leehan gave him a look and chuckled. "why is your first instinct always to ask if it's a girl?"

"because that's the important part, duh," woonhak shot back. "so? spill."

leehan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "yeah, it's a girl. she's... nice, but weird."

woonhak practically bounced in excitement. "weird how? like, quirky weird or talks-to-ghosts weird?"

leehan squinted in thought. "more like... i'm the weird one. i kind of left her hanging when she tried to talk to me. i felt bad but, i just can't."

"oh? that's not a classic kim leehan behavior. you're pretty friendly."

"and my hands went cold. it was like i was getting an illness." he flexed his fingers in mild concern.

woonhak stopped in his tracks. "hyung," he pointed an accusing finger. "are you sure you don't like her?"

leehan let out a dry laugh. "nonsense, that's ridiculous. i just don't wanna talk to her kinda."

"right, right," woonhak smirked, but his mischievous grin stayed.

"enough of that," leehan grumbled, picking up his pace. "let's just go."

woonhak, of course, didn't let it go. he kept teasing, making dramatic heart gestures and batting his eyelashes.

"shut up before i leave you behind."

"say it with feeling, hyung. your voice is shaking~"

leehan rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the amused grin tugging at his lips. woonhak was insufferable, but at least he made the day less dull.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝

now walking down the busy streets of hongdae, just a few minutes from your school, the scent of street food and the buzz of students unwinding after classes fill the air. the neon lights flicker even though the sun hasn't fully set yet, giving the streets that signature youthful energy.

as you walk, you turn to moka, who's sandwiched between you and minji, and ask, "moka, is leehan really that introverted?"

both of your friends glance at you at the same time, puzzled.

"kim leehan? the leehan from our class?" moka asks, raising an eyebrow.

you nod. "yeah, he barely spoke. he just seemed cold."

moka and minji exchange a knowing look before minji giggles. "cold? leehan? are we talking about the same guy? he's pretty social, y'know."

moka nods in agreement. "yeah, i mean, he's not the most talkative person ever, but he interacts well. he's fairly outgoing. everyone likes and knows him."

"not to mention he's good-looking and talented too," minji adds with a cheeky grin.

moka gasps dramatically, shoving minji's shoulder. "oh? not as handsome as taesan though, right?" she said with a teasing smirk on her face.

minji's ears turn bright red, and she immediately hissed in annoyance "ah, this is about leehan! can you stop?"

the two of them burst into laughter, teasing each other while you zone out, lost in thought.

good-looking? you never really thought about it. leehan just seemed strange. but what's even stranger is hearing that he's supposedly social.

"but he barely interacted with anyone," you point out. "aside from his friend earlier."

"oh yeah, that loud guy. what was his name again?" moka snaps her fingers, trying to recall.

"woonhak, seventh grader." minji supplies. "they're close, huh?"

"how do you even know that? well, anyways" moka shrugs. "i noticed that too. maybe leehan just wasn't in the mood today. it happens. you know, some days you just wanna shut the world out and listen to sad music while staring dramatically out the window."

you scoff. "that's... oddly specific."

minji laughs. "she's speaking from experience."

"ya!" moka glares playfully. "i'm just saying, don't take it personally. give him time. he's nice."

their words settle in your mind, giving you a bit more confidence. they knew leehan longer than you do. maybe he didn't dislike you for no reason. maybe it really was just a bad day.

as you reach the karaoke bar, the bright led lights reflect off your glasses, and moka swings open the door. the entire evening had been fun with your new friends. although, you miss your old friends back in busan, you're still keeping in touch with them all while establishing new relationships.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

as soon as you got back to your brother's apartment where you're living. the familiar aroma of spicy ramyeon fills the air, instantly making your stomach grumble. your brother, wooyoung, is at the stove, stirring the noodles in the bubbling pot.

"you're finally home," he says, not even turning around. "it's already 7 pm. how was the first day?"

tossing your bag onto the sofa across the room, you plop down onto a dining chair and immediately reach for the cookie jar, popping one into your mouth. "it was great me and my friends went to karaoke after classes, so i got home a bit late."

wooyoung lets out an amused "ohh," lifting the pot to pour the steaming noodles into a large bowl at the center of the table. "karaoke, huh? and you didn't bother to tell me you'd be late?"

you roll your eyes, still munching. "i messaged you. you didn't answer."

wooyoung pauses, then shrugs. "oh, yeah. i was at the studio all day. just got home like, thirty minutes before you." he grabs his phone from the counter, flips it over, and sees the unread notification. "ah, whoops. my bad. haven't checked my phone."

"figured," you say, watching as he sets the table, placing down the kimchi and chopsticks before settling into the chair across from you.

then, suddenly, his face shifts into amusement. "wait, friends?"

you sigh, already regretting bringing it up. "mhm, friends from my new school," you say, trying to sound as casual as possible.

wooyoung leans forward, resting his chin on his hand like he's about to hear the most exciting gossip of his life. "and here i thought you'd spend the first month brooding in the corner."

you groan. "why do you act like i'm some kind of hermit? i do talk to people, you know."

"mhm, am i surprised, though? you've always been good at making friends. mom used to brag about how easygoing you are," wooyoung says, setting his bowl of ramyeon in front of you.

you smirk at the mention of your mom. "you're louder than me. why would she even brag about that?"

"mhm, and not just louder. i'm also cooler," he says, smoldering.

you rolled your eyes, and scoffed "right. 'cooler.'"

"glad we agree." he grins, then leans forward slightly, sneering "so... any special friends?"

you swerved a chopstick at him. "stop."

he laughs, dodging it. you sigh, knowing full well he won't let it go. "alright, alright," he says, finally getting serious. "so, what's the deal? someone already giving you a hard time?"

you hesitate. if you tell him, he's not going to leave you alone for the next thirty minutes straight. but the thought is already out in the open, and now he's just waiting for a word, watching you expectantly.

you twirl your noodles around your chopsticks, avoiding eye contact. "not really. it's just, there's this guy in my class. i tried talking to him today, and he was just, i don't know. cold? kinda distant."

wooyoung pauses mid-bite, then slowly sets his chopsticks down, his grin creeping back. "oh, he likes you."

you nearly choke on your food hearing that. "that's stupid."

"classic," he says, shaking his head. "a guy being cold to you? that's just a poorly disguised crush."

you scrunched your nose and cringed, squinting at him. "that's the worst logic i've ever heard. is that how you're supposed to act around the person you like? sounds pretty dumb to me."

wooyoung waggles his finger. "ah, you still have much to learn. sometimes, guys get all awkward when they like someone. you know, trying to play it cool and mysterious."

you make a face, just proceeding to slurp on the ramen. "right, and that's why you're single."

wooyoung gasps dramatically, clutching his pearls. "wow, that hurts."

you roll your eyes, and he finally drops the teasing, getting serious. "but honestly, maybe he's just not in the mood. or maybe he's not a super social guy. it's literally the first day. give it at least a week. or a month, even."

you think back to what moka and minji said, and now your brother too. maybe you really were just overthinking it.

"yeah... you're probably right," you admit, taking another bite.

"of course i am," he says, smug. "older sibling wisdom."

"you literally just told me some fake dating psychology."

"hey, it works for some people," he says, laughing.

you shake your head, but you're smiling now, too.

as you finish up dinner, the conversation drifts to other things— his work at the studio, how living in seoul is going so far, and what ridiculous thing he plans to waste money on next. (apparently, it's a limited-edition plushie he claims is an investment.)

you're now in your bed, freshly showered, hair still slightly damp against your pillow. staring at the ceiling, you replay the day in your head- you having fun with your new friends, the laughter at karaoke, and the small, nagging thought of leehan's. you just don't know why you wanted to be friends with him so bad. the day had felt both so long and short. sighing, you turn onto your side, reaching for the lamp beside you, and clicking it off.

the next few weeks and months follow the same routine. you've settled into your new school, growing comfortable with your routine. minji and moka have become your closest friends, the kind you can joke around with, text random topics to in ungodly hours, and count on to save you a seat during lunch. you've even managed to branch out a bit, making casual friends in other classes, effortlessly slipping into conversations and forming easy connections.

but the case with leehan? still the same. frozen.

you're still stuck in the same frustrating loop of forced interactions, half-hearted conversations, and long silences. you've been paired up with him for projects multiple times, and each time, it's a painfully dull experience. he never speaks unless spoken to, and even then, his responses are as dry as toast-short, flat, and uninteresting. if he ever does talk, it's out of necessity, like asking how to blend a color for an art project (since, unlike you, he's not exactly gifted in that league). and that's it. no banter, no effort to make things less awkward. it's not like you expect him to be a chatterbox, but come on, a little effort wouldn't kill him.

"hey, what do you think about adding some shadows here?" you ask during one of your art projects, pointing at a part of the sketch.

he shrugs. "looks fine."

you stare at him, waiting for more. anything more. but he just keeps painting, completely unbothered.

"okay, well... do you think we should use blue or purple for the background?"

"blue," he says simply, not even looking up.

he isn't rude, but not nice either. you sigh, dragging your brush across the palette. working with leehan is like texting someone who only replies with k. It's frustrating, and more than that, awkward.

it's not just during projects, either. whenever it's just the two of you left in the classroom, the silence is so heavy it feels like an actual thing, pressing against you, urging you to break it. and when you do, when you attempt small talk, ask about his hobbies, his music taste, just anything to spark a conversation, you always get the same dead responses.

"you know, i have a brother, and we liked watching basketball together. do you like any sports?"

"no."

"mhm, i see. well, do you have any pets? i have a pet goldfish in our house."

"yes."

"really? what is it?"

"the same. fish."

"what type of fish?"

"corydoras,"

at least he's honest, you cope.

that's how every conversation goes. it's like he's allergic to words longer than three syllables. and at first, you think, okay, maybe he's just like this with everyone. maybe he's one of those people who just doesn't like talking.

but you see stuffs, like how he laughs when he's with other people. how he's actually talking, laughing, contributing more than just a robotic "okay." he's not this indifferent with them. just with you.

and that's when it really starts to sink in.

it's not that leehan is quiet, or shy, or socially awkward.

he just does NOT want to talk to you.

that realization hits harder than you'd like to admit. you try to brush it off, tell yourself that not everyone has to like you, that it's fine, really. but the more you see him laughing with others, joking around, talking normally, the harder it becomes to ignore.

it's not that he struggles to make friends. he's just choosing not to be friends with you. and that affected you. not because it's leehan. it's because you had thing about being left hanging.

still, over time, you learn to accept it. some people just don't click, and leehan is clearly one of them. it's not like you need his approval. you have minji, moka, and a handful of other friends.

so you stop trying. stop initiating conversations. stop going out of your way to talk to him. and for a while, that worked.

then, something shifts

it's subtle at first, so subtle that you don't even notice it. but then minji nudges you during lunch, her voice dropping to a whisper

"hey," she says, leaning in. "i think leehan's staring at you."

you snort, not even bothering to look up. "yeah, right."

"no, really. he's been looking over here for, like, a solid minute."

you roll your eyes, but curiosity gets the better of you. when you glance up, leehan's gaze flicks away so fast it's almost unnoticeable.

you think about it for a second but ultimately shrug it off. it's not like it changes anything. he still doesn't talk to you. ye still keeps his distance. and you certainly aren't going to waste energy trying to break through his icy exterior again.

but you start to notice things, like how he stiffens whenever you walk past, his posture going unnaturally rigid. how he deliberately avoids eye contact, like meeting seeing your eyes might physically kill him. how, no matter what, he always seems aware of where you are in the room, never too close, but never completely out of reach.

it's weird. and, honestly, you're starting to think that maybe he just really hates you that much.

minji and moka notice it too.

"i swear, leehan is straight-up ignoring you," moka mutters one afternoon, barely paying attention to the notes she's supposed to be copying. "it's like you don't even exist to him."

you sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook. "whatever. it's not like it matters. as long as he cooperates when we have to work together, i couldn't care less."

minji hums thoughtfully. "or maybe... he likes you?"

you blink. "what?"

minji nods, looking more convinced by the second. "think about it, he's only like this with you. everyone else gets normal responses, but with you, it's like he forgets that he's a human being."

you stare at her, then at moka, waiting for her to back you up. but instead, she tilts her head, considering.

"actually... i don't think so." she suddenly snaps her fingers. "ah! remember park minju? that pretty girl from the next class?"

you frown. "what about her?"

"well, leehan had the biggest crush on her back in eighth grade. and when I say biggest, i mean biggest. he was, like, ridiculously obvious about it. everyone knew."

minji's eyes widen. "oh my god, you're right. he was so dramatic about it."

the two of them burst into laughter while you sit there, entirely unimpressed.

"wow," you deadpan. "so, basically, leehan just really, really doesn't like me."

moka smirks. "yeah, to the point where it's almost impressive. like, what did you do to him in a past life? he avoids you like a virus."

minji swats her playfully, but you just shake your head. "but yeah, if he likes you he'll be obvious about it."

confirmed. leehan hates your guts, for god knows what reason.

and with that, you decide you're done thinking about him. if he wants to pretend you don't exist, then fine.

the next few months, you ignored leehan completely. and, of course, he noticed.

at first, he didn't seem to mind, or at least, he pretended not to. but it didn't take long for moka and minji to catch on. from across the room, they could see it, the way leehan would glance at you when he thought no one was looking, his expression unreadable.

and then there were the times when you two ended up in the same group for another never-ending project. you would talk to everyone except him. it wasn't that you were mean about it, you were perfectly civil, but you just didn't acknowledge his presence. no eye contact. no small talk. nothing.

but leehan wasn't stupid. he could tell the difference between indifference and avoidance.

at some point, it must've started bothering him too, because moka and minji began whispering to each other every time they caught him hesitating, fidgeting like he was debating whether or not to approach you.

and, he almost did.

it was homeroom, and the teacher hadn't shown up. the class was in full chaos-desks rearranged, chairs turned backwards, students perched on tables, chatting and laughing. you sat comfortably in your usual spot with moka, sipping on jelly, while minji sat comfortably on moka's desk, the three of you bantering about something completely ridiculous.

you felt a presence behind you.

moka stopped mid-sentence, her eyes flickering up. minji did the same. then, she discreetly nudged your knee under the desk, her silent way of saying look behind you.

you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of leehan standing there.

your posture straightened instinctively, but you kept your expression neutral as you turned fully to face him.

his hands fidgeted at his sides, his lips parted slightly like he was rehearsing his words in his head. swallowing hard before speaking

"y/n, i just wanted to say tha-"

"HELLO, Y/N!"

a voice suddenly interrupted, cutting straight through the moment.

you blinked, turning your attention to the source, ham jinsik.

jinsik was, by all definitions, the classic popular guy. tall for his age, charming, effortlessly good-looking. he was the type of guy who never seemed to take anything too seriously, which was probably why he was grinning at you like he'd just won the lottery.

as leehan shifted, glancing over his shoulder, your eyes flicked from jinsik back to him, just in time to catch the way his expression dropped, just for a split second before he quickly looked away. retreating before he could even finish his sentence.

but before you could say anything, jinsik was already speaking.

"jinsik, hi! what's up?" you smiled, brushing aside the awkwardness of the moment.

behind you, moka and minji were losing their minds. they weren't even trying to be subtle, nudging each other aggressively while failing to hold back their giggles.

jinsik flashed you a sheepish grin. "i was wondering if you're free later? i mean..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "we're in the same group, right? and, uh, i could really use some help with the topic we're working on."

moka and minji's snickering worsened "sure, help".

you shot them a quick glare, swatting their knees in warning before nodding at the boy in front of you "of course, i'm down."

jinsik visibly relaxed, a small little yes slipping past his lips before he cleared his throat and tried to play it cool. "great! we can walk together after class. don't worry, i won't keep you out too late."

you laughed lightly. "alright."

as jinsik walked back to his group, who immediately started hyping him up, you finally turned back toward your own friends, rolling your eyes at moka and minji's exaggerated expressions.

but then you remembered.

leehan

you glanced back at him, half-expecting him to be looking in your direction, but he wasn't. he was sitting at his desk, chatting with the student in front of him like nothing had happened.

you exhaled, excused yourself, and walked toward his desk. "hey." you stopped beside him. "sorry about earlier. you were saying?"

leehan turned to you, blankly

whatever light that had been on his face while talking to his classmate disappeared, replaced by something colder. his lips pressed into a thin line, his shoulders tensing slightly.

"i forgot," he said flatly.

you blinked. "oh, okay then."

you didn't want to waste energy overthinking it, so you just hummed, nodded, and walked back to your seat.

what you didn't see, however, was leehan's gaze following you. nor did you notice the way his eyes flickered toward jinsik, his jaw tightening slightly, fingers clenching into a fist on his desk.

just like that, the days blurred together, and everything fell back into the usual routine.

middle school came to an end faster than you expected.

one moment, you were stressing over exams, avoiding unnecessary drama, and pretending not to notice the way leehan had stopped trying to talk to you. and the next? you were standing in a packed auditorium, surrounded by classmates who were buzzing with excitement and nerves.

the school hall was chaotic, students darting between friends, taking photos, and exchanging yearbooks filled with scribbled messages they'd probably cringe at in a few years. the air smelled like fresh paper, perfume, and faint traces of cafeteria food.

you were standing with moka and minji near the entrance, your neat uniform geeling slightly too tight but strangely comforting.

"so... where are you guys going for high school?" minji suddenly asked, fiddling with the hem of her blazer that she only wore properly today.

"seoul high school," you answered, adjusting your ribbon. "it's nearer to my place."

moka gasped dramatically, clutching your arm. "no way! that's where i'm going too!"

minji's eyes widened before she broke into a grin. "me too! do you think we'll end up in the same classes again?"

"i don't know,"you chuckled, feeling lighter than you had in months. "but at least we'll be at the same school. that's what matters."

moka sighed in relief. "good. i don't think i can handle high school alone."

"you? alone?" minji snorted. "you'd make friends in five minutes."

"that's not the point! you guys are my friends."

your heart warmed at that. as much as you teased each other, you knew moka meant it. and truthfully, so did you.

before you could respond, the speakers crackled to on, signaling the start of the ceremony. the noise in the hall gradually died down as students shuffled toward their assigned seats.

you exhaled, turning back to moka and minji with a smile. "i'll catch you guys around there."

and as you took your seat, listening to the opening speech, everything suddenly felt light. you glanced around the room, taking it all in.

you caught glimpses of familiar faces, some you'd just known this year, and some you barely spoke to but still felt a sense of connection with.

and then there was leehan.

he was a few rows ahead, sitting with his group of friends. he laughed at something one of them said, his usual easygoing smile in place. you preferred him like that, a human.

he didn't look in your direction.

you weren't sure if that was a good thing or not. but you pushed the thought aside. today wasn't about old tensions or unanswered what-ifs. it was about new beginnings. and, you'll leave hongik to a new school, a fresh start, and the comfort of knowing moka and minji would be there with you without leehan's heavy and contagious aura creeping around the corner.

because really, what were the odds that he would end up at the same high school as you?

at least, that's what you thought when 10th grade began.

seoul high school

you arrived at your new classroom earlier than most students, enjoying the quiet hum of the morning. the sun and streamed through the windows, reflecting soft lights against the wooden desks. the wind gusted from the open pane and slightly blew your now slightly longer hair that reached your shoulder. everything felt light and promising. as usual, you struck up conversations with a few early classmates, effortlessly easing into small talk. it was a good day. nothing could ruin it.

or so you thought.

because then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of someone standing at the doorway. and with how the room temperature suddenly dropped, you already knew.

kim leehan.

no way.

yes, kim leehan.

his hair was a lighter shade of brown now, and he'd grown taller, noticeably so. a lot can change in a year, but somehow, he hadn't. you found yourself staring at him, completely unaware that your gaze was practically burning a hole through his forehead already.

and yet, leehan barely reacted.

he met your eyes in a blink, nodding slightly before walking past you. bot a single change in expression. no surprise. no recognition beyond what seemed like just common courtesy.

and, of course, he settled into a seat at the very back of the classroom. a mile away from you. predictable.

your shoulders tensed as you quickly looked away, patting your hair into place as if that would somehow steady your thoughts.

"what the hell is he doing here?" you hissed under your breath.

a million possibilities ran through your mind. had he always planned to come to seoul high? did he know you'd be here? or was this some dumb fate?

it didn't matter.

you hesitated for a second. maybe this time would be different? maybe he'd actually talk to you? but the way he acted, or rather, his complete lack of one was all too familiar. it's still the same stern leehan from middle school, at least when it came to you.

you swallowed back whatever words had formed in your throat, pushing away the disappointment, and turned back to your desk.

you don't know what it is with you desperately wanting to figure leehan out, maybe because you're still left hanging without knowing why.

the classroom had started filling up, students pouring in with laughter and chatter, and you forced yourself to join in.

the girl sitting next to you introduced herself, and you made an effort to be friendly, though it didn't come as naturally as it did with moka and minji. speaking of them, they were five classrooms away down the hall, which meant you'd be sitting through long, exhausting classes alone, at least for now.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"WHAT?!"

moka's shriek echoed through the cafeteria, loud enough to make half the students turn in your direction.

panicked, you lunged forward, clamping a hand over her mouth. "shut up," you hissed, glancing around as a few nosy students tried to eavesdrop.

moka peeled your hand off, her eyes still wide with pure disbelief. she leaned in, this time whispering harshly. "what?!"

you sighed, rubbing your temple. "yeah, he's in my class."

moka blinked at you, then at the ceiling, as if trying to process some kind of divine punishment. "no freaking way. out of all the high schools in seoul, and out of all the students... kim leehan?!" she shook her head. "that's terrifying."

"i know." you exhaled dramatically, slumping onto the table. "i didn't expect him to be here either."

moka crossed her arms. "and you're telling me we got separated, but you got stuck with him? this is the worst trade deal in history."

before you could respond, minji arrived, setting her tray of food down. "what are you guys talking about?"

moka wasted no time. "leehan is in y/n's class."

minji blinked. then-

"WHAT?!"

you and moka immediately reached over, swatting at her arms. "hey, shut up!" you whispered aggressively.

minji lowered her voice, but her eyes were just as wide. "wait, deadass? is this real?"

you sighed and nodded.

she hummed in thought. "ah, that explains it. i thought i saw a familiar back earlier, but i figured i was just hallucinating." she stabbed her food with a fork. "turns out, my nightmares are real."

moka shook her head in disbelief. "i mean, him being in the same high school? fine. but in the same class as y/n? that's like a match made in hell."

"a horror movie in the making," minji added.

"that time severus snape reincarnated as my classmate." moka laughed, as minji was enjoying it too. you rolled your eyes, reaching over to steal a chip from your friend's tray. "ha ha funny. let's not talk about it." but you admit, that was actually funny.

"we are talking about it," minji said, smacking your hand away from her chips. "how is he?"

you made a face. "what do you mean, how is he? he's the same leehan. acts like i carry the plague."

minji let out a long, unimpressed sigh. "figures."

"ugh, boooring." moka leaned back in her chair.

they both waved off the topic like it was a failed drama plot twist, swiftly moving on to minji's latest tragic news: taesan transferring to another school. minji whined about it for ten minutes straight while moka wordlessly devoured half her tray of food.

for a moment, you let yourself relax. laughing at their gossips, listening to minji's endless whining, watching moka inhale her meal like it was her last. everything felt normal.

then the bell rang, and just like that, it was back to reality.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the days blurred into a familiar cycle: class, break time, dismissal, repeat. you sat through lectures, quietly counting the minutes until you could meet up with minji and moka.

and leehan still existed like some kind of background npc with an unskippable quest. he sat at the farthest corner of the room, never spoke to you, never looked at you, never acknowledged you unless absolutely necessary. his coldness was almost unreal at this point. good ol' days

it was still bothering you at first. the way he moved through the world like you were invisible. the way he nodded politely to everyone else but barely glanced in your direction.

then, you just stopped caring, like, for real this time.

you weren't enemies. you weren't friends. just civil. yet, you made little to no efforts to ask leehan what's wrong. maybe that was your mistake.

somewhere along the way, the irritation faded into indifference. the tension between you two solidified into an invisible wall neither of you had any intention of breaking.

this went on until the end of 12th grade.

to be continued ..

[realmsb4rbie]

Hey! I was wondering if maybe you could write a Simon x suicidal reader story, just as a comfort piece for me?

It’s okay if it’s outside your comfort zone. I respect that!

i don't know if i can write that perspective well, love, it's a pretty serious concept. im sorry, so i hope you'll take this fic as a comfort 🫶🏻

tw ; self harm.

"si?"

"gorgeous."

"let's kiss forever."

simon was fine with that. if he could, he would. without taking any breath, break, or pause, he would kiss you forever. he hates god for giving him such minimum talents. what do you mean he can't kiss his doll forever? and she even asked nicely.

"le's do jus' that, doll." he hummed, his voice always calm and more deeper than usual with you. his accent was slurry, and he sometimes had to repeat himself so you can understand what he said. don't blame him, you had the same affect as a strong anti-depression for him.

the next few minutes passed like this; kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

feeling like your lips wasn't enough for his hunger for you, he trailed. cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone. each place being kissed at least five times. you chuckled at each one of them, which is a sound would ring in his head as the source of light in his darkness.

he found your arms, which had scars from past. it always made him mad about not entering your life earlier. he kissed each one of the healed cuts, pressing his face deep into your palm. your skin, not the perfume but your own skin smelled like heaven to him. call him biased but hey, no one can blame a man for being too in love with his girl.

"are you real?" he mumbled against your other palm, trailing down to kiss the scars there as well. "i can't even bloody express how divine you are." he murmured between kisses, healing your heart, mind, and soul.

tears perked in the corner of your eyes because god, you might've married a poet. he kissed them away before they could even fall. to him, it was a silent assurance. he'd catch your tears before they could stain your beautiful face, and even you, if you ever felt like falling down in your dream.

"still amazes me that you see me like that." you murmured against his temple, your voice a bit shaky.

"believe me doll, im still amazed that you don't." he replied, kissing the underside of your jaw. "you're fuckin' perfect. and all mine. im a selfish bastard when it comes to you. really."

simon never believed he'd settle down, and have a perfect woman that is so patient with him. he never thought he deserved that, never thought he could even have something like that. something calm, happy and completely the opposite of his dark life.

"thank you f'bein' mine, doll." he whispered against your skin, loud enough for you to hear. "i love you. so much it hurts."

you sniffled a bit, feeling speechless for a short while. "i love you, si." you whispered back. "thank you for saving me."

[flcwermimi]

❛ THE ICEBERG EFFECT IN THE VOID STATE ❜

Even after doing right things / following the right method / being persistant towards our desires sometimes we don't get the fruitful outcome and we all have asked ourselves WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?

According to the research our conscious mind which is aware of our feelings, thoughts and behaviour is like a tip of an ICEBERG visible above the water & on the other hand majority of the iceberg, representing the unconscious mind, lies hidden beneath the surface.The unconscious mind is thought to contain instincts, repressed memories, and other mental processes that we are not directly aware of, but which still influence our behavior and decision-making.

Hand to Hand same happens on our Void/Manifestation journey. The ICEBERG in the void state are :

— SUPPRESSED EMOTIONS - Not being able to confess what u actually feel & often ignoring the emotions overcome this by doing some action regarding when u actually feel happy or angry CONFESS IT ' I am happy/ angry '

— UNRESOLVED PAST TRAUMA/ ISSUE - Even u feel it doesn't effect at all but it does unconsciously the burden of UNRESOLVED THINGS or UNADRESSES ISSUE can lead to several mental issue and to overcome it once must overlook yourself, apologize if u are wrong,get help, share their feelings with someone

— SCARED OF THEIR DESIRE - Often someone DM 's me saying that they're scared of having their desire which is completely normal and I feel to restrict this feeling from their self once should just appreciate their self , hangout with good energy people and decrease their screen time

— SOMETHING HOLDING BACK : From my recent post I got many DM regarding how they feel what is holding them back and it's important to have knowledge on the rights things misinformation sometimes stick to ourselves very deeply

— SELF DOUBT : Many people doubts them regarding the how powerful they're, they often find validation to have their desire so it's very important to work on self-concepts and stop questioning " is it possible" or " can I have this or that?"

— NOT STICKING TO ONE THING : One individual when they're trying to enter void often keeps changing methods or finding something which can magically help them and it often leads them finding hard to believe in any methods. Even if u fail at one method at 3 - 4 times doesn't mean it's not effective it's all about mindsets u must stick to one thing and stop looking sources like ' enter the void instantly/ do this method to happen in second ' because u are not realising how powerful u are actually u don't need those things everything is on your command

— COMPLICATING THINGS : As I seen so many of people making a bunch of routine it irritates me cause They are listening subliminals also and on the side they are even doing robotic affirmation and also five minutes they are doing PSYCH -K and next they are also doing mediation and on the night they will put long bunch hypnosis and in the same night they are doing WBTB method trust me you don't need so much things u doing these all things result that u are putting the void on the pedestal Just question yourself this all is needed?doing so much u are exhausting yourself physically and mentally

— TIME : For those who really starts to panic when they don't enter void on the specific time it's ok time hasn't been wasted nothing is wrong when u didn't enter the void on your specific time the only thing u will be doing wrong in that time is making diffrent theories, underestimating yourself, finding different methods, saying yourself a failure

So these we're some things I wanted to list from the very starting I hope u all read it all through find what is actually stopping you and there is no guarantee this thing happens to each and everyone I have listed it down by over analysing the success stories, my experience

Further what u can do is listen to self concept subliminals, building confidence, don't overwork on your selves, stop finding validation and logic in everything , surrounding yourself with postive beliefs , patience is virtue so keep persisting , do something new daily as if meditate or write a journal or share your thoughts with others learn new skills

That's it all no iceberg effect is bigger than you so stop doubting yourself you can do this it's all easy peasy 🤍🫶

[stitched-mouth]

Meet The Fives

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy.

Pairing: Other Five x Female! Reader x Brisket Five

Format: Long NSFW fic.

Summary: After losing your husband in the time travel subway, you meet several different Fives. Two of them, stand out to you.

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW! Seriously, this is some of the filthiest shit ever written. I finally got to write something with a stuck kink, something I love. It’s very consensual but stuck fantasies always need a CNC warning. Cheating, Angst (?), Cum eating, Threesoom (MxFxM), Spit roasting, Vaginal sex, Oral sex (male receiving), lots of grammar mistakes don’t be mad 🙏

Writing Time: 3 hours.

Word Count: over 3,500

A/N:

PLEASE READ MY NOTES BEFORE READING MY STORY, THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY IMPORTANT

Thank you to everyone that encouraged me to post this; @ifellinto-fantasy @voteforevilthoughts @fartsquelch7 I really hope you guys enjoy and stick around for a possible part two

You can skip straight to the smut, it’s sectioned off and highlighted.

I’ve had an idea to write a stuck smut fic with two Fives for ages now, so happy I finally did so. But this work isn’t perfect, like always I put a lot of into setting up the story and the smut and ending slightly suffered. I forget sometimes that I don’t need to give a backstory to all my stories, I’m sorry.

The backstory also might not make a lot of sense to everyone but I explained as well as could and even if there is a massive plot hole in this fic, please pretend like you don’t see it 🙏

But I’m still happy with the way this came out and I hope you will too.

But also some explanations, there’s a huge inconsistency with how long five worked for the commission, he is 13 years old when he jumped forward to the apocalypse and spends 45 years there and 58 years old when he jumps to 2019. But every source online confirms he worked for the commission for 4-5 years before he jumped to 2019… meaning he actually spent 40 or 41 years in the apocalypse and was 52 when he started working for the Commission. This is why in one line of this I mention that Five was 52 years old while working for the Commission. Feel free to correct me if you know something I don’t.

And the reader loves Bailey’s Hot Chocolate because I do.

Please enjoy!

—

It wasn’t such a great time for you, you had been wondering around the disconcerting train station. Your husband, Five, had brought you and Lila with him by accident due to his familiar but different and uncontrollable power and the bad part is you had been standing on the platform staring at the confusing map too long to notice your husband and your sister-in-law stepping onto a train.

It had left without you. And Five’s attempt to blink off the train when he realised you weren’t going to make it on was futile.

You tried your best not to panic, this wouldn’t be like the last time Five time travelled, right? He’d be back to any minute now, all you had to do was wait, right?

Yeah well you waited hours before deciding to step onto another train, it left from the same platform so it had to take you to him, right? You’re not right very often here.

You stepped onto the train and tried your best to navigate, but honestly, nothing made sense to you here. You had a very strong feeling the train maps were created by another Five in his own made up language, you just had to hope your Five would figure it out and find you.

You had so much time on the platform to remind how you had met Five while you both worked at the Commission as partners. You were only 20 years old but well-known as the Commission’s best assassin, hence why you were partnered up. You had been trained to kill since you were a pre teen and loved it, but you loved Five more than anything else. When you met Five, he was 52 years old, making Five very wary around you and avoiding you and his feelings for you until it was too much. You both finally hooked up after 2 years of working together and clumsily but intensely flirting, you called him your hot stuff and he called you Princess, he was hot and you certainly behaved like a Princess. He brought you back to 2019 with him and you had unofficially married right before the first end of the World. Legally doing so after Allison reset the Universe and living and again working together at the CIA.

You stepped off the train slowly and cautiously, when you deemed it safe you began calling for your husband. No response and nobody was in sight. You were about to step back onto the train when you noticed your husband, well he looked like your husband, walk past the train.

You suddenly felt extreme relief and joy as you ran after him, “Five! Hot Stuff!”

He kept walking so you continued chasing him and grew furious when you realised he could definitely hear you but not stopping, “Old man! Fuckface!”

You suddenly stood in front of ‘Max’s Delicatessen’

You looked around, bewildered and confused. Five quickly made his way inside but turned to look at you first and wink. The wink unsettled you. Something so Five and usually so comforting, now ate your stomach left and it feeling uneasy. That was not your husband.

You didn’t feel completely unsafe, but more intrigued instead. So you slowly entered the Deli and looked around, maybe 50 different Fives all enjoying themselves with coffee and deli meats. A few of them looked back at you in shock and or horror. The Deli became slow and quiet.

“Oi, Hot stuff!”

A Five was gesturing for you to join him, the same one you followed. You slowly moved over to his table.

“She’s mine, boys.”

Nearly all the Fives sighed sadly and continued with themselves. You raised an eyebrow at the Five now in front of you, “I’m definitely not yours.”

“Aw, was hoping I could convince you.” He smirked, “Please sit, Hot Stuff.”

You sat down and decided to mess with him, “I knew you wasn’t him. My Daddy usually calls me Princess.”

This Five choked on his coffee and you grinned, just as another Five dressed as a waiter, delivered you a Bailey’s Hot Chocolate. You were confused how he knew what you wanted before you had even ordered but you were even more confused with how he stared at you nervously. You had only once seen fear in your husband’s eyes and you had both fought the end of the World 3 times and worked as assassins together, it terrified you to see your Five or any Five scared. Especially of you.

They both quickly collected themselves, waiter Five left the table and the Five sitting opposite you dapped his face with his napkin before looking back at you.

“Well, I could call you Princess if you prefer. But only if you call me Daddy.”

“No thanks, I’m looking for my husband.” You sighed.

“Well, if he’s not in here, I haven’t seen him. He’s likely lost… with Lila.”

You raised an eyebrow, “How do you know he’s with Lila?”

“Because he’s not the first Five to get stuck down here with a Lila and cheat on his beautiful wife.”

“Cheat? You must be mistaken, my Five and I—“

“I’m really sorry Princess, but I am definitely not mistaken. If your Five isn’t here it’s because he’s not welcome, there’s a strict no cheating on your perfect wife ever but especially not with your brother’s wife policy here. Unless the World is actively ending, then we make an exception to associate with those Fives. Any of us, would reach out to help another one of us if lost, unless we spot them with a Lila.”

You glared at him, very offended. But the longer you stared into his eyes, you could see his sadness and pain. Your gaze soften but you still didn’t believe him.

“Maybe… maybe one or two Five would do that but mine wouldn’t.”

“Look, I would never do that and I’m disgusted some versions of me would. But as soon as one of us comes here with a Lila, it happens, it’s pre determined. And getting stuck down here, it’s our punishment… at least we leave them alone as punishment.”

“I still don’t believe you.”

“I don’t expect you too. I don’t doubt you love him and that he loves you too, but… I don’t know, I don’t know why any Five would betray their wives. But none of us are perfect and some are just totally undeserving of you.”

“Where’s your me?”

“Dead. Like most of you, sadly. You don’t tend you survive on your own down here… I didn’t come with Lila, I came here with only my lovely wife and… after so many years trapped here, she didn’t see a way out so… yeah.”

He trailed off and looked down, nearly in tears. His wife killed herself. You carefully took his hand, this may not be your Five but this one was so open with his feelings and staring at you with such loving eyes that warmed you similar to how your husband’s used to, you’d be lying if you said your marriage had been perfect so far, recently you hadn’t touch each other in months and you had no idea why and was too scared to ask (but cheating didn’t seem like the answer, but maybe it was and you hadn’t noticed?). You was also having trouble disconnecting the Five in front of you from the feelings you still had for your husband.

He sniffed his brewing tears away and looked back at you.

“But anyways, I found this Deli afterwards. A lot of us here, wondered in one day or was found by another one of us and was brought here. One of us could get you home if you wanted but we wouldn’t want to let you go especially if your timeline is ending, which it likely is.”

You sighed and gently rubbed his hand.

“Five… if my husband doesn’t want me anymore, I’d rather… find another Five who wouldn’t betray me.”

He gave you a small smile, “Look around and take your pick, Princess.”

You looked around at all the Fives in the room, all of them just as handsome as your husband but no familiar feeling. Expect the Five currently in front of you.

“Maybe I’ll pick after finishing this.”

You picked up your now lukewarm Baileys Hot Chocolate and began gulping it down. After the day you’ve had, you needed to get drunk, hopefully it would be easy since you hadn’t eaten yet and if these amazing Bailey Hot Chocolate kept coming and you kept chugging them. Five chuckled a bit before sipping on his own coffee. You quickly waved the same waiter Five for another, he promptly brought you another as well as some of your favourite snacks.

“So is the lovely young lady staying?”

You could still hear the nervous tone in his voice but it was more friendly now. You smiled at him and nodded.

“Wonderful, let me know if you need anything else.”

“Oh I will. Get me another one of these but hold the hot chocolate this time.”

You gave him a naughty grin as you looked at him up and down and quickly smacked his ass, he blushed and hurried off to help another Five. The Five in front of you chuckled again.

“What? I can pick anyone of you, right? That makes sexual harassing Five service works ok, right?”

“You are right. That’s Brisket Five, he wrecks shit.”

“Yeah hopefully he’ll be wrecking my pussy soon.”

Five choked on his coffee again but then laughed hard.

“Are you drunk already, darling?”

“Trying to be.”

He nodded understanding why.

“Hey! Brisket Five, scotch!”

A few hours later you and your new Five were drunk as skunks. The pain of losing your husband had been temporary forgotten, drowned in your and this Five’s shared sorrow and liquor. You had a new Five that already loved you and wouldn’t betray you. And if that didn’t work, you still had many choices to repair your broken heart. You didn’t know if you were going to go back to you and Five’s family but you had all the time you wanted to decide, considering time was technically stopped in train stations and Deli.

But don’t get me wrong, you were heartbroken and angry underneath your giddy drunken laughter and desperate to get rid of the pain that was at risk of spill out of you in uncontrollable tears.

It was closing time and Brisket Five was shooing all the drunk Fives out, including you. He still blushed and stuttered around you, telling you that this Five must be a lot younger than the other. You asked and found that mentally he was only 35, he was one of the few Five’s that didn’t get stuck in an apocalypse and instead grew up with his siblings. But he wasn’t as lucky as he seemed, growing up with his siblings and never working for the Commission meant he never met his you.

You and your new Five giggled and stumbled as you stepped out of the Deli, you drunkenly shhhed Five and he shhhed you back making you both laugh loudly. The moment suddenly became serious as you gazed into each other’s eyes and eventually began kissing.

His tongue was ferocious, you could feel had touch starved he was, much like your original Five. Your tongues danced sloppy but it was so intense and intoxicating you could feel your vagina open and burn with need. You strongly considered turning around and bending over for him right where you was but he suddenly broke away.

“Shit, I forgot my jacket.”

You rolled your eyes and began peeking in through the windows for Brisket Five, nobody was in sight and the lights had been turned off, except for one around the corner of the Deli, it looked like the kitchen.

“Can you blink inside?”

Five shook his head, no.

“Well didn’t you say it would only be closed for 2 hours? Because they are trying to be 24/7?”

“My map is in it.”

You sighed and made your way to the kitchen window and knocked gently, the window was unlocked and slowly creeped open the more you pushed on it. You poked your head inside and saw no one, you sighed again about to look back at Five but you felt touch your back gently.

“Please, let me help you inside and you can get it for me?”

“Ok.”

—-/// SMUT ///—-

You agreed seeing the task as easy, you maybe drunk but you’re still a cold blooded killer, you can break into a Deli easily and grab a coat. And even if you got caught, you’re you, any Five would let you off freely.

You crawled inside and pressed both your hands on the low kitchen counter in front of you, accidentally knocking over a pan you didn’t notice. You gritted your teeth as the pan hit the floor and made a loud bang noise.

“Pull me back! Pull me back!”

Five heard your whisper yelling and began trying pull you backwards by your hips, but you was stuck and all he did was pull your jeans halfway down.

‘Fuck’, you thought. You were definitely way too drunk for this.

You heard some shuffling in another room and in stepped Brisket Five.

“Hi…”

“I already told you, we’re closed Darling.”

“I know, I’m sorry but—“

“No no no babygirl, you can’t just break in and enter. Especially not so poorly.”

He walked over to you and was now face to face with his crotch. It gets better, you could hear the Five behind you groan with need and begin pulling off your jeans and panties all the way down. Your eyes widen with shock and lust as you heard him spit into his hand and then feel him slowly enter you.

Your burning cunt accepting him easily and you gasped with excitement.

“Um, I.. I’m sorry… let me make it up.. to you..”

Brisket Five was beyond shocked with your suddenly breathy horny voice and even more shocked when you began pulling his belt, pants and boxers off. You stared into his eyes as you licked up and down his dick before taking it fully into your mouth.

He groaned as you began moving your head back and forth, just as the other Five fucked you slowly but so deeply. Your cunt tighten as you took Brisket Five down your throat and Five moaned loudly, he grabbed your hips and increased his pace.

So you increased your pace, moving your mouth up and down faster on the younger Five’s cock. He sighed in pleasure and gently put his hand into your hair and moved your head back and forth. You was Heaven, being spit roasted by two Fives’ was your ultimate wet dream. And both of being so touch starved and whipped for you meant they were more than happy to take anything you gave them.

As you slurped down one Five’s dick and got pounded by another, you decided to never fucking leave.

You felt yourself nearing your release, so you threw your hips back, forcing Five to go deeper and pound your walls harder. Brisket Five’s large cock was nearly suffocating you, just how you liked it. You sucked like your life depended on it, only feeling desperation to have all of them both. You came and whined around Brisket Five as you did so.

Seeing you orgasm and stare so intently at him as you did so made him lose it.

“Fuck!”

Brisket Five suddenly ripped his soaking dick from your throat and with all his might began pulling you through the window, Five though, held onto you as tightly as he could. You let the two Fives fight over you, too drunk and pussy whipped to do anything. Brisket Five won and he pulled into him then stood up carefully and looked out the window at Five.

“You coming in?”

Five suddenly blinked inside.

“You, you asshole…”

“Sorry Princess, I knew you’d bend over me but Brisket Five needed some action too.”

He grabbed the back of your head and pushed you onto your knees and forced his dick down your throat. You choked slightly at first but Five throat fucked you through it, ignoring the tears running down your red puffed out cheeks and burning throat.

Brisket Five stood and watched for a second while jerking himself off before deciding to get on his knees behind you and enter your pussy. He moaned loudly and eagerly began fucking you.

The two seemed desperate and hellbent on using your holes as much as they could, sexual frustration had taken them over completely and they were blood thirsty, well in this case pussy thirsty.

After what felt like an eternity of being on your knees begging for more, Brisket Five cried as he came inside you. You came again at the same time. Five took slightly longer to enjoy your mouth but eventually pulled out and came onto your face. You moaned as he did so, relieved from your second orgasm and the ability to breathe again. His hot wet semen spoiled your face and you smiled up at him.

The Fives looked down at their work proudly. Brisket Five helped you slowly to your feet and you moaned again quickly as you felt his cum drip out of you, you began shamelessly scooping it up in your hands and licking it off your fingers and licking at the corners of your mouth for Five’s cum.

Brisket Five’s face flushed and he stuttered out, “I’ll get you a towel.”

He scurried off, almost tripping as he tried to fix his trousers as he walked.

You smiled and looked at Five, who was also fixing his trousers, he noticed you looking at him and he suddenly kissed you deeply. Your holes felt so used and your heart felt so loved and in love.

Yeah, you was never leaving.

—///—

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT PART TWO AND ANY SUGGESTIONS FOR IT, I HAVE AN IDEA BUT NEED MOTIVATION TO WRITE IT

[toudan]

The Hand That Feeds

“If being with me only brings you pain, then just put up with this for three more days.” Or, the stages you go through during those three days.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | spoilers for Caleb's story | angst, brief manipulation, drugging is briefly mentioned, implied toxic behaviour (per canon), medical issues (source: i made it up), mental instability, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of suicide and self-sabotage, splitting (reader has BPD), unreliable narrator. | ~6,8k words

A/N.⠀sooooooooo I've been playing Love and Deepspace..... the brainrot got so bad I've written over five thousand words in two days. this is a bit more of an exploration on the emotional/psychological end, so I'm sorry about the lack of romance!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

1. DENIAL

Caleb never breaks his promises.

It’s been that way since you were little kids. In thunderstorms, he promised to keep you safe, and he did. On gloomy days, he promised to be your light, and he did. In the rain, he promised to shield you, and he did. He never lies. He always picks up the phone. He never misses any important dates. He always catches you and never lets you fall. That was the Caleb you knew years ago.

Now, he’s much more different than the scrappy young boy with missing teeth and plasters on his skin that he used to be. This Caleb is tall, imposing, domineering. His uniform puts emphasis on his coldness. He is the embodiment of power, but just like he promised you when you were ten, he’d use his power to protect you. You’d trust him with your life, because deep down, you know that he won’t make you regret it.

You’re more than capable of protecting yourself. Years of training at the academy and another handful of years as a hunter has shaped you to be your own defence. Calluses and scars litter your skin, painting them with texture and molding you into a unique sculpture. With each year that passes, you grow out of the same scared little girl you used to be, but you can never get rid of fear completely. Loud noises still send you jumping out of your skin. You still fear death no matter how familiar it’s become. You worry about growing old and fading out of existence, leaving behind vulnerable people who’ll lose you for good.

The past years have not been kind. Fate has put you in all sorts of situations to test your might and willpower, forcing you to be the fearless woman you were meant to be. You’ve passed turbulent times, cried alone as your mind tells you you’re going insane. You’ve stayed at home for days, hiding away from the rest of the world as you contemplate your self-worth and utility. It drains you, bleeds you dry, but for you, there is no time to rest. Life goes on. You must always keep moving no matter how wounded you become.

With Caleb, it doesn’t feel like it has to be that way.

He’s always taken care of you very well, making sure you get enough rest and remember to eat no matter how stressed you become, but things aren’t the same. You’ve grown and so has he. And yet, he’s still the very same boy you grew up with—one who cares for you, one who loves you for you, and one who’ll always have your back. You’re not familiar with giving yourself a break, having been living in a routine of discipline for over a decade of your life, but you find that it’s a nice change. It’s the instrumental break of a song, it’s the beach on a sunny day. It’s gentle breezes caressing your skin and it’s layers of padlocks broken, letting you out of the cage you’ve built for yourself.

For once, you can let yourself relax and be taken care of the way you’ve always been. But as the storm rages on, it all comes crashing down, and you find yourself falling apart.

The anxiety that had come with your initial arrival at Skyhaven never left. It simmers at the pit of your stomach, creeps into your veins and wraps its tendrils around you, dragging you into a cold abyss of apprehension and fear. Being away from Linkon City isn’t doing you any favours. You don’t know anyone here aside from Caleb. There isn’t a place to go or people to talk to. The likelihood of you being in danger is low, but it’s not impossible, and the storm outside does nothing to help your current state. The power has gone out, leaving you in a wide, dark and empty complex where the only illumination comes from the lights on the skyline. 

The recent events are still heavy on your mind, too. Of him tending to the gash on your leg, of him restraining you with his Evol. You don’t think you’ve been that scared since that day in the interrogation room. You remember it vividly: the dimness of that room, the collar he’d placed upon your neck, or the tension in the air while you struggled to get yourself back to reality. It felt like you were in a dream. But then the lights came on and he spoke, and he was no longer the Farspace Fleet Colonel—he was your Caleb.

Your nails have become brittle from how much you’ve been biting on them. You’ve been pacing around the place, trying to call him time and time again only to get no response. With a frustrated sob, you toss your phone onto the sofa and collapse to your knees, tears streaming down your face in rivulets. As much as you’d like to believe that you aren’t afraid of thunder anymore, tonight proves it all wrong.

All you can hear is the downpour outside. It muffles the sound of the clock ticking, yet it doesn’t tune out the worried voices in your head. It’s nearing midnight—way past your bedtime—but you can’t sleep, not even with the potential ambience of the rain. Your thoughts are racing a mile a minute. Though Caleb usually comes home while you’re asleep, being wide awake now also means you’re too aware—aware that he isn’t home, aware that he’s in danger, aware that he might not ever come home at all. Your phone is nearly dead and the candles have long since gone out. You’re trembling both from fear and frost, his sweater loosely hanging on your frame.

The words ‘lockdown’ and ‘cleanup’ grow more and more distant as the irrational thoughts strengthen in numbers. They say he’s doing this on purpose, that he’s abandoning you for good because of you, that he’s keeping so many things hidden from you because he wants you out of his life. You want to believe they aren’t true, you really do, but your fragility makes you waver in every decision. The urge for violence grows but you do your best to keep yourself grounded, rocking yourself back and forth as your body is wracked by sobs. It’s easier said than done. You don’t know how you can stay afloat when you feel so alone.

Cruel. He’s cruel for leaving you alone for this long. He’s cruel for not responding to you. If he truly cared for you, he wouldn’t make you feel this way. Fear blends into anger as your hands twitch and quiver while you heavily breathe in and out as an attempt to calm down. He promised you this morning that he’ll come home. You just need to trust him. But you’re so scared of everything, feeling like the world is caving in around you as you fall deeper and deeper into the void. The dark makes you feel isolated, suffocated. Briefly, you think of how no one will hear you if you scream in this weather. Not even he can save you. Maybe that’ll be the first and last time he breaks his promise.

You shake your head. You know better than to trust your emotions when the sky gets dark. This will pass, it always does, and Caleb would want you to be strong. With newfound determination, you harshly wipe away your tears with the back of your hand and get up. Your legs slightly wobble from the ache in your knees, but you keep upright. As if sensing your predicament, the rain outside slows down and becomes quieter with each second. The thunder has stopped roaring and the downpour slows to a light shower, its droplets hitting the clear glass of the window panes.

Then, the front door opens. A scream threatens to escape your throat. The emergency lights in the hallway outside show a male silhouette at the door, and when you realise who it is, the grave weight on your shoulders is lifted. Relieved, you run into him, making him stumble for a moment before supporting you more steadily. You wrap your arms around his neck and cry, quiet whines leaving you. He pulls you close and rubs soothing circles on your back before murmuring a quiet I’m home into your ear.

How could you doubt him like that? Caleb is kind. He’s the best thing to ever happen to you. He never breaks his promises. Whatever anger you harboured for him earlier dissipates into the air just like fog. Still shaken from the blackout and his radio silence, you grab him tightly, the fabric of his coat bunching up in your unrelenting grip. You don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight. You were doing perfectly fine before the storm. You’re mentally berating yourself for letting him see you in such a pathetic state, but you’re too drained and it’s too late to try to hide.

(You’ve never been able to do that with him.)

“I thought you left me,” you whimper, “I—I don’t feel good. I don’t know. I was scared.”

You cling to him like a child. You feel like one, with how weak and emotional and volatile you feel. The sobs slow down into sniffles as he carries you over to your bedroom before taking a seat on the bed and placing you on his lap. His gloved hands comfortingly caress you wherever they can. Guilt sinks into his bones, pulling him deeper than his gravity ever could. The explosion had been out of his control, so had his death, but he can’t ever forgive himself for making you feel like you’d been left behind.

An ugly emotion rears its head, holds him in its jaws. He wraps his arms around you possessively, allowing you to calm down at your pace. You let out a heavy sigh and fall into him, feeling boneless after the meltdown you were in earlier. There are many things you want to say, but none ever slip your tongue. Instead, you let him hold you, let him press soft kisses to your hair, enveloping you in the warmth you had been craving.

“I told you I’d always be by your side,” he finally speaks up after a moment of silence, squeezing your flesh warmly. “I promised you that, remember?”

You don’t make a sound. You shift closer to him, desperate to be closer, close enough to feel like you’ve fused into one. He doesn’t force you to speak. You look up at him, tear-stained cheeks glimmering under the moonlight, helpless and afraid yet so loving and elated. He shushes you softly, lulling you into a relaxed state as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs before cupping the side of your face affectionately. 

I’ll always be by your side.

How silly and humiliating of you to have been vulnerable like that. Caleb would never lie to you. He’s right, he always is, and you need to learn to fully trust him again. He never breaks his promises. He won’t start now.

2. ANGER

It started with an excruciating pain in your heart.

Then, it continued with pins and needles striking your limbs, making them feel boneless. Your view blurred and darkened at the sides as static took over your vision, showing you mirrors and streaks of light. Your throat closed up and you clutched at it helplessly, jaw dropping open as you tried to breathe. The world spun and suddenly you collapsed on the ground, motionless and afraid. Waves of panic crashed into you, drenching you in trepidation while your thoughts ran rampant, stacking on top of each other like voices in a crowd.

You hardly registered the muffled shouts and your body being moved as you fell limp. Your head was spinning and you felt like you were falling into coldness—into death—but when you woke up, you found yourself in the medical bay of the Fleet’s aircraft. 

The pain in your heart had subsided enough. It still ached and burned, but clarity had returned to your eyes and your limbs no longer felt numb. Your eyelids fluttered open, revealing the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, and it was only then that you heard muted conversations, presumably from those who were taking care of you. You tried to push yourself up, only to be pulled back by something. When you looked down, you found all sorts of cables attached to you and an EKG monitor on your side. Your heart rate was fast and your blood pressure was high. Caleb had come into the medical bay not long after that.

After dismissing the nurses, he’d taken you to his home and decided he’d take care of you himself. Though you weren’t keen on essentially being on house arrest, there was no point in arguing with him. Even if you doubted him sometimes, you knew in your heart that he would never lead you astray. But the way he’s been treating you like a child irks and suffocates you, making you feel like you’re locked in a cramped room.

He talks to you softly and treats you like you’re fragile. You’re several years into your career as a hunter. You’re well in your twenties and more than capable of taking care of yourself or tending to your wounds. As much as you appreciate his concern, it’s starting to feel suffocating. Maybe years of depending on him have made him think you’re useless. He won’t trust you, but he still holds many secrets of his own.

The only conclusion you come to is that he’s hiding something from you, or he’s hiding you.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing does. How can someone so familiar feel so distant at the same time? You can’t understand his logic or tell what he’s thinking. He always has an explanation for everything, and yet, they never satisfy you at all. The weariness in your system coupled with days of being under quarantine is taking a toll on you. He’d insisted persistently that you stay put while he takes care of everything. It’s not as if it’s his fault, either. No matter how much you want to get back to work—thinking about the backlog you’re going to have to catch up to puts insurmountable anxiety upon your shoulders—you can’t, because your body isn’t cooperating.

It’s not a fever. It’s not a cold. But somehow, you always feel so out of it. It doesn’t even feel like you’re piloting yourself anymore. Suspicion rises in the back of your mind as you think of the medication you’ve been taking every morning. He never told you what they are. What if he’s—

No. He wouldn’t. Caleb isn’t like that.

But what if? You don’t understand him. You don’t know him anymore. Why is he hellbent on keeping you locked up here when you’re already capable of handling things on your own? Burying your face in your hands, you let out a scream of exasperation, feeling as though you’re losing your mind. Why won’t he listen to you? Do you mean anything to him at all?

The door knob twists. You swiftly relax your furrowed brows and turn to him with a small smile as he enters your room. The sun is barely rising, but he already looks wide awake. You can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously at the small cup of pills that he’s holding.

The question slips past your tongue before you realise it. “What have you been giving me?”

Caleb stops in his tracks, brows raised in surprise. Something flickers in his eyes, but the calm expression remains on his features. He moves closer and places what he’s holding on the table, only to pause in his movements again.

“You didn’t finish dinner?”

“Caleb. What have you been giving me?” you ask again, your hands beginning to tremble. Your thoughts are running rapidly, alarms of urgency ringing in your head and adding on to your anxiety. You need answers. You need to know everything.

He takes a seat on the stool next to your bed with a sigh. “I’m hurt you don’t trust me, pipsqueak.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” You clench your fists, knuckles turning white from the pressure you’re exerting. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“You had a protocore-induced heart attack. Your body is still recovering,” he replies easily. You can’t tell if he’s lying or telling the truth. “And Skyhaven’s still under lockdown. It’s not safe for you to be out.”

“Do you think of me that lowly?” Aggravation drips off of your tone as your voice starts to waver, a familiar sting spreading behind your nose and tears springing up to your eyes. “Do you think I’m still a little kid?”

“It’s not that. I’m just worried about you.”

Your voice rises in volume. It’s getting harder to keep your anger in control. 

“If Skyhaven’s so dangerous, why won’t you let me go back?”

“Because you can’t. No one goes in or goes out during this lockdown. I’m sorry,” he says. It’s quick and meant to shoot you down. You want to scream, to break something, anything, but you can’t. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m protecting you.”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, irritated at his responses. There’s no point in arguing with him, you realise. Caleb’s stubbornness knows no bounds at times. You take your hand back and look away with an indignant huff. You know you’re acting like a child. Grandma would be disappointed if she saw your state now. But you’re frustrated, you’re anxious, you’re alone and you just want to go home—

“Leave. I don’t wanna see you,” you spit, stubbornly staring at the window. Then, an unknown fear seeps into your veins, causing you to soften just the slightest. “I don’t want us to fight, Caleb.”

“We’re not fighting.” He crouches down in front of you and takes your hand into his before giving it a warm squeeze. “But you have to try and understand me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to see his face, don’t want to hear his voice, don’t want anything to do with him. Ignoring him, you get up the chair and return to your room, closing the door behind you with a loud slam. The sound makes you flinch. Unwanted memories slowly fade into the reel of your mind. Aggravated, you lock the door and sit down, pulling your knees close to your chest as your jaw clenches.

You don’t know what you want. A part of you wants him to come in and apologise, to let you do what you want. Another part of you wants him to just leave you alone. But when there’s only silence, you find yourself breaking into sobs again, feeling like you’ve been abandoned. He’s mad at you. He’s going to make you leave and say that he’s just giving you what you wanted. Guilt creeps into your heart as the realisation that you’re doubting him dawns on you. He’s been so kind to you since the little stunt you pulled to get yourself here. He’s letting you walk freely. He’s letting you stay in his home. 

But he’s not listening to you, he’s ignoring you, and it makes you feel as though you’re just a speck of dust in his eyes. Your emotions rage as a tempest in your mind that destroys everything in its wake. A scream of exasperation leaves your lips as you hold your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath. 

I’ll always be by your side.

What a liar. 

3. BARGAINING

It feels as though the sands of time are allowing the particles to fall one at a time into the bottom of the hourglass.

Time is moving slowly, almost as if it’s stuck in place, and hearing the sound of the clock ticking every time you’re ‘home’ is starting to drive you mad. It’s hard not to zero in on Caleb when he is all you have here. You’ve contemplated sending Tara and Zayne some messages to let them know that you’re fine, just staying with a friend. For some odd reason, the messages never get delivered. Assuming your phone’s just broken, you haven’t picked it up since. As a result, there’s not much to do in your free time outside of chores or breaking down, and it’s tearing you apart.

Maybe he’ll rethink his choices if you get hurt on purpose, you think with a bitter grimace. It’s hard to believe that his consideration for you, something you used to adore, now felt like chains holding you down. He might as well have left the collar on your neck. Anger, betrayal, guilt, and shame. Your mind has become a tempest of despondence and pessimism destroying every rational thought in its path. You want to scream and punch the wall. You want to hurt something. You need to destroy something. Your self-control is hanging by a thread and the stubbornness is beginning to feel childish, silly. 

Regrettably, Caleb is right. The Farspace Fleet is still working on cleanup amid this lockdown, not allowing anyone to go in or out. Leaving Skyhaven isn’t an option anymore. You don’t know what you feel anymore, either. You’re stuck here with a curfew whether you like it or not, and your unfamiliarity with the place leaves you at a severe disadvantage. Though you’re not exactly a drinker, your mind wanders to how you’d feel if you were too drunk to think of anything. You don’t care. You don’t know what you want anymore.

Some days, you feel angry at him and think he’s the devil. Some days, you appreciate him and think he’s a gift sent by the heavens. The lack of a middle ground constantly leaves you teetering on the verge of falling on either end. But now—now you feel nothing at all. You’re numb, indifferent, and it perplexes you because you still feel so bad. You think you’re a walking contradiction or a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Caleb has dealt with you for years without a single word of complaint. You’re taking him for granted, says the voice in your head. You need to keep him.

You harshly slap yourself on the face to snap out of it, bringing yourself back to the present.

The skyline glimmers in the distance. Red and white lights speed by on the road and the billboards are as lively as ever. Nightlife enjoyers are undoubtedly in good spirits as they travel from bar to bar. Tara must still be awake watching her favourite show, and Zayne is surely still working late at the hospital. You want to hear their voices and be in their presence even if it’s just for a few minutes. There’s a weight pulling at your heart as your mind wanders to Linkon City. To your real home.

The walls of what you thought was a gorgeous home is starting to remind you of the interrogation room you were in. It feels drab, lifeless. There isn’t much evidence within the home itself that there are people living here in the first place. The little OTTO robot he built for you stays in the corner, lifeless as well. You absentmindedly tap your fingers against the surface of the couch as you stare into the glow of the television. Even the commercials that are meant to be fun and exciting feel fake. The programme continues, returning to the scheduled film of the night. 

It’s late at night and you can’t sleep. You’re up later than you’d usually be. Caleb isn’t home yet, rendering you beyond aware of the fact that you’re home alone, and anxiety lurks around you at every corner. Your pistols rest on the spot beside you as a precaution. With what has been transpiring since you stepped foot in Skyhaven, anything is possible. It’s strange how paranoid you’ve become over the past couple of days. You should feel safe here, you should feel safe with him being the Colonel himself, but you don’t.

“—concerned about you. He said he thinks you might try to kill yourself.”

Your gaze drifts over to the pistols. An image of your blood pooling beneath your head as you lie limp on the ground flashes before your eyes. You imagine how he’d react to your death. Will he care? Will it devastate him? Will he regret how he’s been treating you? Strangely enough, the gruesome thought doesn’t bother you as much as it used to when you were younger. Violence comes with your job as a hunter, even if it’s not inflicted upon humans. Death is no stranger. It’s more familiar than you’d like it to be. You’ve been lured by it a couple of times in your childhood, seen mangled bodies and frozen corpses in your lifetime. 

You’ve gone from craving death to being afraid of it, and yet here you are, contemplating it just like you did when you were fifteen.

Tara used to tell you not to believe your thoughts when it’s dark. You desperately want to, but it feels as though your brain won’t allow it. You’re tired and lonely. You miss home. You grieve for a man that is still alive. A long time has passed—people are constantly changing. He’s not the same man you were eating dinner with at Gran’s house. This is a man who has been through death himself, weighed down by his never-ending burdens and responsibilities, and you sink deeper into your guilt as you realise how unreasonable you’ve been.

You try to separate every thought again. Caleb is protective of you because he’s known you for most of his life and you’re the closest person to him. He put you under strict supervision because he’s worried you’ll be in danger without him to protect you. He treated you like a child, making you feel as though he doesn’t trust you. Your outburst halted everything and is slowly destroying your relationship inside and out. It all feels so monumental, so much bigger than you can handle, and you can’t help but feel defeated.

You have two options: continue this game of who can make the silent treatment last longer, or apologise to him and gain his forgiveness. It eats away at you either way. With apologising, you don’t even know where to begin; he’s never been mad at you nor has he ever raised his voice at you. He always tells you that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

It’ll pass, is what he would say to you. And I’ll be here with you.

But when you have already destroyed everything with your bare hands, who will be there to rebuild it with you?

You haven’t prayed to a god in years. Prayers and rituals don’t work on you, you think, and so it’s not worth the time or effort. But as your eyes slowly close, you pray to whatever celestial being listens to you—give him back. You’ll never do it again.

4. DEPRESSION

Another day of silence passes and plunges you further into the pool of fear and helplessness.

Caleb hasn’t spoken a word to you. Not once. He still prepares your meals, leaves you notes, but he doesn’t utter a single word. You grow more restless by the minute. He’s angry with you. He’s just too nice to tell you upfront. Anxiety makes you avoid him, afraid of what he’ll do or how he’ll react. He doesn’t stop you from going out anymore, either. You’ve been spending your time outside his home, distracting yourself with whatever activity you can find on the streets. For the first few hours, the newfound freedom made you feel on top of the world, but it didn’t last.

Him stepping back should make you feel happy and relieved. Instead, the claws of despair pull you in closer and closer to its maw. You return home after a day out to complete silence. The floorboards would creak beneath your feet, waiting for someone to break the stillness, only for there to be nothing. When you wake up in the morning, Caleb leaves behind nothing but the remnants of his cologne in the air, small proof that he was home. The smell used to comfort you. Now, it makes you feel lonelier, because it’s not enough.

It feels like you’re losing him in real time. You’ve retreated so far into the corner that you’re fading into the background as the world continues on without you. You see him walking farther and farther away from you, disappearing into the crowd as he leaves you standing in the midst of it all. The thought of him leaving your life gnaws at you, puts you into a spiral of loneliness. You wanted this, didn’t you? For him to leave you alone?

Then why do you feel like you’ve been abandoned?

The stark reminder of his absence claws at your heart. You barely see him at home and it feels like you’re lost at sea, drifting away from the shore with each wave that the ocean carries. Getting out of bed feels like a monumental task. Your limbs feel heavy as if you’re being held back by a ball and chain. And you’re exhausted, even with the hours upon hours of sleeping and locking yourself away in your room, too tired to live. A part of you tells you you’re overreacting. You don’t even remember what had upset you in the first place, but you know one thing—

You don’t want him to go.

Being an adult comes with doing things you don’t want to do or are too afraid to do. This is just one of them. You’ll apologise to him with low expectations so you don’t break your heart, but you’ll fall into euphoria if he forgives you. He’s looking out for you. It’s not his fault. 

It’s yours.

You remember times in your childhood when he’d come get you after school with your favourite popsicle split in half, one for you and one for him. He’d ask about your day and his eyes twinkled with genuine interest as he listened to you go on and on about every detail that happened. The walk back home was always filled with joy. He feels like a distant memory, an echo of the past, and you wonder if he’s the one who changed or if it’s you.

Whoever it is, what was an unbreakable bond had shattered to pieces, and it was all by your own hand.

Self-hatred burns through you. You wish you were different. You wish you weren’t the way you are, so flawed and broken beyond repair. You wish you were like other women, those who are always on top of their game and strong no matter what life throws at them. Without realising it, you’ve already given up on yourself. You’re no longer loved by him; you’re an enemy, a monster, and the thought plagues your being.

The feeling of unworthiness lingers in your chest, a constant ache that wears down the edges of every thought. You remember the person you used to be with him before the explosion. Optimistic, hard-working, hopeful. She feels like a stranger now, like someone you used to know who left your life without saying anything. The weight of it all—the distance, the guilt, the silence—is becoming unbearable. He is slipping out of your grasp, ready to leave you as a memory of the past, and you’re falling further back. He is swimming to the surface while you are sinking deeper into vast nothingness, surrounded by the unknown. 

You wonder what he feels when he looks back at you. Is it pity, or is it resentment?

Or does he hardly feel anything at all?

The door opens, stopping your train of thought. You stagger up to your feet, quietly making your way to the entrance with your hands folded in front of you. Caleb’s eyes meet yours and you falter for a moment, every word you’ve rehearsed in your head going forgotten as time seems to be at a standstill. You muster up a smile, doing a little wave at him.

“Welcome home,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He returns with a smile of his own. “Thanks.”

You want to say something, anything, but no words come out; you don’t know where to begin with them. Instead, you stand there and smile awkwardly, completely lost and insecure. Your smile feels fake. You know he knows it is. It’s a façade you’re using to hide the turbulence within you. Caleb’s smile is polite and you want to run into his arms and tell him everything you’ve been feeling. Your heart drops when he looks away from you, ready to leave to attend to his own affairs.

“I’ll just, um, go,” you chuckle nervously. “Sorry, you must be busy. I’ll see you around.” 

Reluctantly, you withdraw and return to your room, shutting the door with a quiet click. Drained, you fall to the ground and bury your face in your hands, frustration oozing off of you in waves. Was that a good sign? Or was he faking his friendliness just to get you off his back? He doesn’t seem angry, but you’ve also never seen him angry. Anxiety harrows you as you stare at the ground, mind racing with what feels like thousands of possibilities. You wish he was easier to read. How can you know someone for so long but know nothing about them at all?

You ball your hands into fists and tremble, tears streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. You’re falling behind. He’s already on the path to moving on but you’re still stuck in your spot, hopelessly wishing he’d turn back and ask if you want to try again. This fight—the one with him, the one with yourself—feels daunting. You’re but a frail little thing facing off with something grand and monumental. It towers over you, cloaks you in its shadow, emphasising the fact that you are nothing compared to it.

The world is quiet, and as you sit gazing upon your opponent, you start to wonder if this fight was even yours to win at all.

5. ACCEPTANCE

Before you know it, it’s the night before the promised third day.

You were lucky enough to be able to have breakfast with Caleb this morning. It felt tense and awkward, but he still maintained the conversation so effortlessly as if your outburst never happened at all. He left for work with a simple kind smile and told you to stay safe if you do go out. Even while you’re being unreasonable, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum is lasting this long humiliates you to no end.

You spent the day out at the shopping district. The city was vibrant with the hustle and bustle in its streets and pedestrians. You heard laughter and chatter, joy that was spreading among people and their friends, and you’d never felt more alone. Even in a place swimming with people, you still felt so isolated like you were just a speck of dust. Eventually, your surroundings became white noise, and time went by like a blur. It felt as if someone else was taking control over your body. You numbly went through each stall searching for souvenirs to bring back to your loved ones back in Linkon City, spending away without hesitation. 

When the sun began its descent, you made your way back with several bags of new items in hand. You’d gone over budget, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For a moment, you were completely fine, free from the crushing weight of the world on your shoulders. Returning to Caleb’s place took away the momentary lightheartedness and replaced it with something devastatingly hollow. You moved on autopilot, stepping into the shower and taking off your makeup, changing into more comfortable clothes. 

When you were done, you sat in the living room and watched whatever was playing on the television, its audio turning into background noise as you drifted away with your musings. Before you knew it, it was dark outside, and Caleb was back home. You parted your lips to say welcome back, but he had entered his room before you could call for him. Awkwardly, you returned to the television and fidgeted with your hands, nervousness entering your system the longer he was gone.

It seems to be a peaceful time for Skyhaven tonight. The media representative of the Farspace Fleet had come out to answer whatever rapid fire question the journalists had. Reassuring every citizen, he had said that the cleanup they’ve been doing is gradually wrapping up, and that the lockdown would be lifted soon. With nothing else to worry about for the time being, officers were allowed to return home early, including the Colonel himself. 

Caleb reappears in his loungewear and stops to look at you, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t take long before he returns to the living room again, heading for the other end of the couch. Not wanting to disturb him, you leave him to his devices and stare ahead into the television, holding yourself back from looking at him repeatedly. It’s unusual for him to be home early, so you’re equally lost, completely clueless on how to function.

You sneak a glance at him. He’s reading a book, his brows furrowed in concentration as he immerses himself in creativity. He looks peaceful, so undisturbed, and you’re still not sure what to do. Even when you’ve been a brat, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum has lasted for days humiliates you to no end. His consideration of you nearly brings tears to your eyes but you keep yourself together, not wanting to worry him.

You part your lips to speak only to close them again, frantically trying to come up with a coherent sentence in your head. He looks relaxed, so the chances of him reacting aggressively are low. You know he’d never raise his voice at you, but the paranoia hasn’t left you yet; everything you do needs a safety plan. Biting down on your bottom lip, you stare down at your hands before standing up, nervously wringing your hands behind your back.

Mustering up all the courage you have, you speak up, meekly, “I’m sorry.”

He looks up from his book, brows raised as he watches you in what appears to be confusion. You want to run away and hide, but he deserves this. It’s the least you can do.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry for lashing out. For acting up. It’s just… I’m just…”

He smiles softly, getting up from the couch and walking towards you. Bringing you close for a hug, he presses a soft kiss to your temple and squeezes your frame reassuringly. You melt into his touch, a burning sensation spreading in the centre of your face as your bottom lip quivers. You whine and hide your face in his sweater, desperately holding on to him as if he could disappear at any moment. You’ve already lost him once. You won’t lose him again.

You can’t.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice trembles as you speak and sniffle in between words. You grab onto the fabric of his sweater tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded. “I didn’t mean it. I won’t do it again—”

He sighs, content, and pulls you closer to him, letting you cry in his arms. His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he hums a comforting tune, the same one he used to when you had nightmares as a kid.

“Silly girl,” he says, rocking you side to side. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

No one else will ever do it like him. He’s kind. He cares for you. He stays with you even with your volatility and your flaws. The resentment you’d been harbouring towards him douses you in guilt as you latch on to him, basking in his comfort. He’s only doing this because he cares. The disaster in your mind slowly unwinds and the grating voices that had been plaguing you the past week quiets down. 

He gently pulls away and brings his hands up to your cheeks before brushing away your tears with his thumbs, lulling you into a calmer state.

“It’s okay,” he coos. “I promise.”

Finally, you trust him, because he never makes promises he can’t keep.