#i might change it back after- i dunno for sure though

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

happy aro visibility day everyone :D

I was going to draw something, but it wasn't working out. Instead, I changed up my pfp a bit:

I headcanon Ford as aro :DD

[heich0e]

"can i call you later?"

the wind bites at your cheeks, but the sting you feel is as much from the smile on your face as it is from the chill.

"dunno," you muse, pursing your lips as though you're contemplating the question deeply. "can you?"

rintarou groans, but the sound isn't half as plaintive as it ought to be. you watch as his head hangs down defeatedly where his frame is folded over the railing that lines the front of the train station, his body pitched forward over the barrier like he's trying to reach you on the other side.

you've been saying goodbye for the past twenty minutes—or, you've been trying to. sort of. maybe. the train you'd planned to catch has already come and gone, and the next is set to soon arrive. one more and it will be the last of the night, but not even knowing that fact seems to be moving you closer towards the door to the station—content to stay here, like this, as the wind of the late fall night nips at your cheeks and the two of you muddle through your goodbye with the inelegance of two people who couldn't be less committed to it if they tried.

rintarou lifts his head to meet your gaze.

"i mean it, though." he says. "can i call you tonight?"

your stomach flips when he looks at you this way. when he keeps looking at you this way.

"we just spent hours together," you remind him, but your words are too breathy to make impact. too elated to be reproachful.

you've been on three dates with rintarou now. you think they're dates anyway, though it's never explicitly been stated. his invitations are always casual, sandwiched in between all the other texts he sends to you these days, so you might be reading into things too closely for your own good. but dinner doesn't just feel like dinner when rintarou has this way of looking at you like you're the only person he's ever laid his eyes on.

"i know," he answers. it's not an explanation, or an excuse, or even an apology. it's plain acceptance. a shamelessness you find wretchedly endearing.

you glance back at the station behind you, biting the inside of your cheek to temper your delight.

"my train is coming," you say.

he looks a bit crestfallen. laughably glum, considering the circumstances.

you drag the heel of your shoe back ever so slightly, not quite a step—at least not in any meaningful way—but inching in the direction of the doors at a glacial pace. continental drift seems positively hasty in comparison to your retreat.

"bye," he calls, his tone dejected. you watch as he lifts his hand weakly, still slumped over the railing, and waves at you with only a few fingers raised.

you want to laugh, but your chest is so full of something else—something syrupy and fluttering and good—that it's like there's no space for it underneath your ribs.

you call back to him just before you step into the station.

"rintarou—"

there are other people around, stepping between and around you both—rushing into the station to escape the cold, or moving briskly as they brace themselves and step out into it—but you hardly notice them when your eyes meet.

you smile.

"—call me later."

he calls you almost every night after that.

even as the cool autumn winds change with the seasons; carrying flakes of snow as winter blankets nagano, warming with the spring, turning heavy with humidity in summer, and then repeating the cycle anew.

even as your reluctant goodbyes turn from late nights outside of train stations to early morning words whispered under blankets as rintarou leaves for practice or away games.

even as the uncertainty of whether or not you're getting your hopes up—of whether those meetings were even really dates at all—melts away into nothing more than a memory.

you're not even sure what the two of you manage to spend so much time talking about on the phone. nothing, really. everything in its own right. rintarou's phone calls are something you come to look forward to at the end of a long day. something you anticipate when you have exciting news to share. a comfort when you're missing him and a relief when you need him most.

"is that the last one?" you ask, turning just in time to see your boyfriend—your live-in boyfriend now, officially—flop back on the sofa after he drops the last moving box atop the stack piled near the balcony door.

"yeah," he wheezes, evidently winded from the exertion—from the exhaustion—of moving house. you laugh a bit to yourself as you shuffle over to the sofa, leaning over the back so you can peer down at him where he lays sprawled against the cushions.

"aren't you a professional athlete?" you tease him. "shouldn't you have better stamina?"

rintarou cocks a brow, something sly swimming behind his gaze.

"i need better stamina?" he drawls. "you're usually complaining about the opposite."

you roll your eyes in the wake of his remark, grabbing a throw pillow from beneath his head and yanking it from under him unceremoniously, only to press it lightly against his face.

you shuffle back towards the kitchen where you'd left the box you were unpacking abandoned. you grab a plate from inside the cardboard and turn to place it on the shelf you'd decided would house your dinnerware.

"it's late," you tell him, reaching for the next plate in the box. "you should go wash up first."

you don't get a reply, and that surprises you. you creep over to the sofa again, only to find rintarou staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"hey," you laugh a little, leaning on your elbows against the back of the couch. "where'd you go?"

rintarou's gaze snaps back to yours. he still looks at you like he did on your first date. like he did outside the train station on your third. he smiles, bit it's a bit sheepish.

"sorry, was just thinking," he answers quietly. he reaches up from where he's lying on his back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. his smile turns a little bit giddy, then. boyishly charming. "can't believe we finally got a place together."

you lean into his touch, huffing a little breath through your nose—halfway to a laugh.

"guess you won't have to call me anymore," you joke, and rintarou's expression changes—falls slightly—but only for a moment. you realize what you've said, or at least think about the implications more, and you sort of understand the shift.

you fell in love through those phone calls.

you'll miss them—the ritual, the familiarity, the comfort—even though you know they've been replaced by something better.

you turn your face, pressing a fleeting kiss to rintarou's palm. "go wash up," you tell him again, heading back towards the kitchen and your (now twice abandoned) box of plates.

he seems to heed your advice this time, peeling himself up off the sofa and shuffling off in the direction of the washroom.

"don't use all the hot water!" you call after his retreating frame, and you hear him reply noncommittally under his breath before the door clicks closed behind him.

you've only got three dishes left to unpack before your box is emptied, but the shelf you'd been organizing doesn't seem to want to accommodate all of your bowls in the way you wanted, so you're left arranging and rearranging them as you try to find a way to get them to fit.

in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone begins to ring. with three plates balanced in one hand, you reach for it with the other—the movement muscle memory now, instinct more than volition, after all this time. you answer the call without even looking at the screen, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you continue juggling the dishes in front of you.

"oop—hello?"

you pause after you answer the call, realizing for the first time that you shouldn't be getting a call at all. not at this time of night. not in this apartment.

the line is quiet, just the sound of breathing that you could recognize anywhere to be heard from the other end of the call.

"why are you calling me?" you ask rintarou, but the words are light. too fond to be reproachful.

you hear rintarou laugh—from the other end of the call and from the other side of the bathroom door.

"just wanted to hear your voice," he answers you (the same way he has a thousand nights before when you've asked him that same question.)

"you're ridiculous," you tell him, completely enamoured.

"i know," he replies.

it's quiet for a moment as the two of you stand on opposite sides of your apartment. on opposite ends of your call.

you shift a stack of bowls a little to the left. it all fits now. just the way you wanted it to.

"y'know, the hot water won't run out as fast if we shower together—"

you hear the bathroom door open, and when you look over your shoulder, rintarou is peeking at you from around the edge of the door—his phone held to his ear, a smile on his face you know is mirrored on your own, and a look in his eye that's never once wavered.

he tilts his head.

"—wanna join me?"

[toxicanonymity]

🔥 tinder

3.5k / stepdad!joel x f!reader / stepdad master

A/N: Picks up after Fandango. Nothing has happened with the Mom before this, so ignore that hypothetical drabble.

Warnings: I8+ smut, mdni. stepcest, big girthy age gap, angst. jacking off, groping, oral F receiving. P in V but not with each other. cheating on each other, kind of. graphically overhearing your mom and him have sex :(. Joel's state of mind when he did it.

"Firm handshake," Joel says, then takes a seat on the other side of you.  Joel’s extra aftershave wafts into your nostrils and makes you tingle.  He asks about your date.  Jacques leans forward with his elbows on his knees to tell Joel about where you went for dinner and what you guys had. You glance over at Joel and a subtle snarl is forming. 

Joel is weird after his introspective drive home from your apartment. When you get back to their house, he silently brings the TV in for you, biceps bulging through his thin undershirt.  He sets it up in your room and won’t make eye contact the whole time he’s in your room.  Seems like everything went to hell as soon as you asked about their marriage.  

“Joel.”  He doesn't look. He bends over and his shirt rides up as he plugs the last thing into the TV.  

“Joel, what the hell” 

“What?” he snaps,  “What do you want?”  

You’re not sure what to say, so your default sarcasm spills out.  “What, you can’t tell?”

He rolls his eyes.  “Somethin’ you need right now, or am I done here?” He tosses the remote control onto your bed. He won’t even get within three feet of you. 

“You don’t want me to answer that,” you say. 

He scoffs and leaves, closing the door behind him.  

-

Thanksgiving night, your mom gets home and the three of you eat dinner together.  She asks how the movie was.  Joel blushes and plays with his food, but you smoothly start telling her all about the Exorcist until she changes the subject since she doesn’t like horror.    

“I was thinking, honey, why don’t you come with us to Mexico?”

“I thought you were going for a conference,” you say.

“Yeah, well.  You know how that is.  They wouldn’t have it at the beach if they didn’t expect us to have a little fun.”  She looks at Joel.  Joel is staring at his plate.  She continues, “We were gonna add a couple of days, make a vacation of it.  You could bring a friend if you want.” 

You nod.  “Or just the three of us?”

“Sure,” she says.  Joel puts his fork down and sits back in his chair.  “Ate too much earlier,” he says and excuses himself from the table.  You don’t see him again that night. 

-

The next morning, you go black Friday shopping with both of them.  At most stores, Joel waits in the car sulking, pondering his life.  You buy a new TV for your apartment, a few new bikinis for the trip, and your Mom buys Joel a bunch of new clothes.  You’re going to miss the shrunken ones.   After you get home, your Mom leaves to do more shopping and Joel watches football in the ] living room. You put on a new bikini and go downstairs to model it for him. 

“Well what do you think?” you ask. 

He quickly scans your body, his eyes not lingering anywhere.  “Looks great,” he says flatly, then looks back at the TV.   

You sit down next to him, elbow on the back of the sofa with your head propped up in your hand.  He tries not to look. 

“Give me a break,” he says. 

“I just wanna know if you like it,” you say.  

“Said it looks great.” 

You adjust the cups of the top. “It’s not too much?” 

“Come on, sweetheart.” He refuses to look.   “Just get outta here, okay?”

“Okay, I have three more to try on.” 

“Please don’t,” he says and adjusts the crotch of his sweatpants.

“I dunno why you’re punishing me for your own feelings,” you retort. 

He sighs as though too tired to even try.  

“Maybe I’ll go on that tinder date after all.”  You’re still not planning on it at this point, you just want Joel to loosen up again and hope the threat might help. 

Joel scowls at you.  He knows he can’t tell you not to.  He knows it’s not fair.  “Would you grow up,” he says. 

Your laugh is short and silent.  “I’ll send the other suits on snapchat.” 

You go back to your room and try them on, taking videos and pictures and sending them to Joel. “I dunno if the ass is too small on this one,” you say in a low, sultry voice, then turn the camera to the mirror to show  your ass hanging out of a cheeky pair of boy shorts.  You take some even hotter footage and send it all in real time. 

Joel doesn’t open the snapchats right away.  But soon, you hear the TV turn off downstairs, then he goes up to the master bedroom and closes the door. 

-

You smile to yourself and put on a robe.  He’s totally about to jack off.  Sure enough, a minute or two later, Snapchat tells you when he starts watching your snaps.  You tiptoe into the hall to listen. You sneak as close to his door as you can get without giving yourself away.  You want to hear him do it unrestrained by your presence. 

“God damn,” he sighs and your nipples harden at the sound.  

“I dunno if the ass is too small on this one,” you say through his phone, and he replays it.  “I dunno if the ass is too small on this one.”  And again.  “I dunno if the ass is too small on this one.” 

He breathes loudly and you hear the wet squish of his fist around his cock.  

“Uggghh,” he groans and you know he must be watching the one where you untie the top entirely and let it hang between your breasts.  Outside his door, you slip your hand into your swimsuit and touch yourself as you listen to him breathe heavily.  He audibly pleasures himself  while you put on a show and strip for him on his phone.  He’s so fucking hot.  

“Jesus,” he says to himself.  In snapchat, you must be pulling the swimsuit aside to show him your juicy cunt and how wet you are.  You brought your phone with you in your robe so you can see how many snaps he has left to watch. That’s one of the last. 

“It’s yours, Joel,” you say from his phone.  “Come and get it.” 

“Fuck me,” he sighs and the sound of his voice makes you lose control of your hand.  You put your hand on the door knob and open it. 

His phone repeats, “It’s yours, Joel.  Come and get it. . . It’s yours, Joel.  Come and get it.”  You see the reflection of the explicit video in his glasses.  He fumbles with his phone to stop it from playing again. 

“What the hell are you doin’ here,” he whispers gruffly with his cheeks pink. 

“If you’re not gonna come get it. . .” you say, putting your hands in the pockets of your robe and splaying them out to show your whole body. 

“Your mom’s on her way home right now.” 

“That’s what you wanna talk about?”  You take a hand out of your robe pocket and slip it into your swimsuit, dipping a finger into your pussy, letting your head fall back, exposing your neck as you bite your lip and touch yourself.  Then you snake your hand up your torso, between your breasts, to your neck.  You walk all the way up to him, stepping over a trail of shopping bags from the walk-in closet to the bed.  When you get to Joel, you put your fingers in his mouth and he licks them clean with his eyes closed.  Then you take his free hand and put it on your breast, slipping it under the swimsuit.  He does nothing to stop you. You start touching yourself again. 

He strokes his cock faster.  He wets his lips and breathes deeply as he palms your breast and watches you touch yourself.  

Then you hear footsteps on the stairs, and your Mom’s voice.  “Honey?” She must have left the garage door open while she was out.  No warning. 

“Shit,” he whispers, yanking his hand away from you.  He looks around.  You close your robe.  “Closet,” he says, pulling his pants up over his wet, hard cock.  

“No!” you whisper.  But when you see your Mom’s shadow arriving at the top of the stairs and Joel all disheveled with his lube right on the nightstand, you don’t see another option.  You’d have to cross the bedroom door to get to the bathroom.  

-

Just as you hide in the closet, your Mom enters the bedroom, and her paper shopping bags clatter against the door on the way in.  “It’s just you? Thought I heard someone.”  She’s headed your way with the bags.  This was so stupid.  So, so stupid.  You could have just tied up your robe and acted like you were getting something from their bathroom.  

Joel intercepts her.  “C’mere,” he says.  “Why don’t ya let me put those up later?” His voice has a seductive air about it and a pit opens in your stomach.  

“Joel,” she says accusatorily and laughs. “Were you watching porn?”

“What if I was,” he says.  Of course he’s still hard and pink in the face.  Terrible at hiding his humiliation.

“Hope you saved some for me,” she says saucily and your heart drops. She closes the bedroom door.  

This is a worst case scenario.  

You hear kissing.  So fucked up.  You plug your ears and dissociate.  What follows is a torturous symphony of breathing and moaning from both of them for the longest five minutes of your life.  You seethe, then you cry as silently as possible.  Of course he’s thinking about you - of course.  You gave him that hard-on. Is he doing it out of spite? Out of panic? Surely he could manage not to moan if he was only doing it because he felt like he had to.  He knows you’re RIGHT THERE.  Can he really  not control himself? 

While you’re still in the closet, you post one of your sexiest swimsuit photos on instagram.  Then you text Joel, “This is so fucked up. I don’t want to ever hear a word from you about my dates or instagram or anything else.”  You send him a screencap from Tinder where you’re confirming your availability for a date with Jacques.  “Hope you’re happy,” you add. “Fuck you.” 

When it’s over, your mom goes to the bathroom and you make your escape, wiping your eyes with one hand, holding your robe closed tight with another,  not even looking in Joel’s direction. You can feel him looking at you, though.  

-

You slam the door to your bedroom.  

Joel responds to your text, “You’re right, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry.”

That makes you even more upset.  You want it to be his business.  You get in your bed and sob.  

“I dunno what to say,” he adds. “I didn’t know what to do.  If you can’t forgive, me I understand.” 

You respond, “You didn’t have to act so into it.”

He says, “I was trying to make it quick. I’m really sorry.” 

You don’t reply. 

“I wish I could undo it. I’m sorry.” 

You don’t respond. 

He asks, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Fuck no, you don’t want to talk about it. Why would you want to talk about it?  You stay in your room for a long time but eventually go to the kitchen to get something to drink.  He must hear you going downstairs because it’s only a minute before he comes down, too.  

“Hey,” he says.  “You okay?” 

How would you be okay? You don’t have anything to say to him.

He says, “I was gonna, uh, go to the gas station.  You want a drink or somethin’?” You don’t answer.  

You go back to your room.  When he gets back, he knocks on your door. You don’t answer.  He goes back downstairs and texts you that he got you a drink and put it in the fridge.  

The next morning, you come down for breakfast and he’s there.  

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.  You don’t answer.  He watches you pour a glass of orange juice in silence.  You drink it and put it in the sink.  He leans against the doorframe from the kitchen to the hall, blocking your way.  As you go by, he gently puts his hand on your chest and whispers, “Hey.”  You look down at his big, veiny hand.  How dare he platonically put it on your chest? You take a deep breath, your breast swelling into the heel of his palm. 

“What?” you ask. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.  “Please forgive me.” 

You laugh condescendingly. 

“Or at least talk to me,” he begs with puppy dog eyes. 

You return to your room without another word. 

Over the next few days, you go back to your apartment and Joel tries texting you casually.  He snapchats you too, but you don’t answer it.  

-

A few days later, you go out with Jacques to get your mind off Joel.  Joel remembers your plans.  He’s still thinking about it. 

“Have fun on your date,” Joel texts you.  The nerve.  If Jacques is hot enough in person, you might give Joel a taste of his own medicine in terms of what Joel has to overhear.  You’re glad you hadn’t decided the location when you sent Joel the screencap, lest he show up.  

Jacques is hot.  You go out to dinner, then bring him home to your mom and Joel's house instead of your apartment. The two of you sit in the kitchen first and you make him a drink.  You continue your conversation from the date.  His voice is deep and smooth, but not as sexy as Joel's. You can’t help but compare everything about them.  You and Jacques take your drinks to the living room to watch a movie.  You sit in the middle of the sofa and Jacques sits by your side. 

-

Before you've even picked a movie, Joel walks in. He spreads his feet and crosses his arms, pushing out his biceps with his hands underneath them. Then he just stares at you.  He looks like he’s trying to restrain himself.  

"Joel," you light up insincerely. "This is Jacques." 

Jacques gets up and shakes Joel's hand.

"Firm handshake," Joel says flatly, then takes a seat on the other side of you.  Joel’s extra aftershave wafts into your nostrils and makes you tingle.  He asks about your date.  Jacques leans forward with his elbows on his knees to tell Joel about where you went for dinner and what you guys had. You glance over at Joel and a subtle snarl is forming at the edge of his nose.  You lean back against the couch since they’re trying to talk to each other. 

Joel asks, "So what'd ya talk about? Any common interests?" 

"Oh yeah, we both love horror movies," Jacques says. 

"Nice," Joel nods. "She tell ya we went to see the new Exorcist?" 

"Um, yeah. She mentioned it was good." 

Joel chuckles, then looks at you. "It was good, huh? You'll have to catch me up before the next one, sweetheart." He gives your thigh a squeeze and winks at Jacques. Then he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "Where ya from, Jacques?"

"El Paso," he says.  Joel doesn't hide his surprise. Then Jacques adds, "My parents are French." 

Joel nods thoughtfully. "Am I sayin' it right? Jock? Or is it Jack?"

"Jack is fine."

"Nice." 

-

You interrupt them. "I don't think Hulu's working in here. C'mon Jacques, we can watch in my room."

"Now hold on, I'll fix it for ya," Joel offers and puts his hand on yours, reaching for the remote control. 

"Nah," you say. "Wanna try out my TV in there anyway."

“Alright,” Joel mumbles.  He runs a hand over his beard.  If he didn’t feel so guilty, he’d be losing his shit right now.  You’re sure of it.  He’s trying really hard to be fair.  You and Jacques get up off the sofa, then Joel stands up. 

"It was nice to meet you," Jacques says and shakes Joel's hand again. 

"You're the stepdad right?" Jacques removes his hand from Joel's death grip. 

"Guess I am tonight," Joel mutters.  

“Sorry, what?” Jacques asks. 

"Yeah, he is," you say, then look at Joel. "Where's Mom?" You ask. "Figured y'all were going to have some quality time."

"Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart," Joel says, then briefly massages your shoulder before walking away to the fridge.  

-

You and Jacques watch Equalizer 2.  

Joel texts you, “Don’t do this.” 

After about fifteen minutes you respond, “?” 

“Please,” Joel texts.  “You’ve made your point.” 

You don’t reply. 

“I know I deserve it, but I wish you wouldn’t.” 

In another twenty minutes, you see the shadow of feet under your door.  A few seconds later, there’s a soft knock. “Gonna make some popcorn, y’all want some?” Joel asks.  You tell him no thanks. 

Toward the end of Equalizer 2, Jacques gets handsy with you and you welcome the advance. He’s not bad with his hands, but you also don’t hesitate to exaggerate your sounds of pleasure.  But that exaggeration turns into real enjoyment.  You relish the opportunity to release all your tension into someone else’s body.  Someone who wants you unapologetically and would hopefully never make you hide in a closet.  

Jacques has a big one, too.  You close your eyes and pretend he’s Joel as you’re making out and his hard cock is grinding into your crotch.  You moan into his mouth, desperately wanting to feel Joel's beard against your cheek.  Jacques whispers your name and says, “I want you.”  He takes his cock out and wraps your hand around it.  You grab it hungrily without opening your eyes.  You hear the tear of a condom wrapper and your breath hitches.  Your body wants it.  

-

Then the fire alarm goes off.  You cover your ears and Jack puts his dick away. You don’t bother fixing your hair or skirt. 

“Sorry!” Joel yells from downstairs.  The smell of burned popcorn fills the hall.  It takes him a minute to turn off the alarm, of course.  Jacques opens the bedroom door to see what’s going on.  Then Joel comes upstairs out of breath and apologizes for the commotion.  

“Sorry ‘bout that, guys.” Joel hovers there in the door with one of his hands on the frame.  

You cross your arms on your bed, and Joel’s eyes fall to where the bedding is messed up.   

“Well, It was nice to meet ya, Jacques,” he says.  “Lemme walk ya out.” 

Jacques is confused.  “I, uh.” 

“Um, I guess I’ll call you,” you tell Jacques.  

Relief washes over Joel’s face and he asks you, “Your Mom, uh, needs a ride, you wanna come with me in a minute?” 

Jacques looks back and forth between the two of you.  “Yeah, guess I better go,” he says to himself.  

Joel walks him out.  

-

When Joel comes back from walking Jacques out, he tries to be casual, but his body is clearly tense.  

"Really think he bought that performance?" Joel asks as he pushes into your room. He closes the door behind him and leans against it with his butt.  He looks at Find my Friends on his iphone.  “She’s ten minutes away,” he says and pushes off your door to approach your bed.  

"What performance?” you ask. 

"C'mon, sweetheart.  You were fakin' it."  He lifts the comforter and sheets and inspects them. "Dry." 

Your cheeks burn. 

He sits down on the bed and picks up the unused condom still in its wrapper.  "Least you woulda been smart." 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you ask.  “Leave me alone.” 

“Can’t, sweetheart,” he murmurs and puts his hand on your thigh. “I can’t.” 

“Then do something about it or get the fuck out,” you whisper.  

He slides his hand up your skirt and slips his fingers right into your panties.  “That for me or him?” 

You roll your eyes.  “Shut up.” 

You lean back on your pillows and he gets between your legs.  He hikes your skirt up and pulls your panties down, then plants his face between your thighs, lightly caressing them from the outside with his big, masculine hands.  “Gotta be quick,” he murmurs into your pussy, then digs in.  He sucks and laps at you and inhales deeply through his nose.  Your hips lift into his mouth.  You whine his name. He pauses and looks up but doesn’t reprimand you.  He penetrates you with his tongue and moans into your cunt. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathe.  He devours you ravenously, moaning and sighing, until your thighs tense and your hips lift and you moan his name as you come in his mouth and he laps up every drop.  

He tears his head away and looks at you affectionately.  He’s panting and his face is dripping wet from the nose down.  He kisses your inner thigh, then gives you a hickey there on each side.  

The garage door opens downstairs.  Joel stands up and adjusts his joggers to accommodate his massive erection.  He’s still breathing heavily.  He wipes off his face.  He walks to your door and opens it without a word.  He turns around and looks at you, then closes the door behind him.  

-

THANK YOU for reading and thank you so much for your reblogs and comments! Now more than ever. PSA: definitely follow if you're into this, because i'm shadowbanned and not showing up in tags. this also means i can't make comments or send or receive DMs. follow @toxicfics for notifications and @toxicrecs for reblogs.

-

[subskz]

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 04

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

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of twin flames, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, angst, self-sabotaging behavior, self-loathing thoughts, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, themes of death/grief, lots of crying (sorry), brief mention of blood

word count: 16.9k

“Do you believe in twin flames?” 

Chan’s question hung in the air for a moment, changing the atmosphere so drastically that you weren’t quite sure how to react. Before you could stop yourself, you let out a less-than-appropriate giggle.

“You don’t?” his voice came quieter this time.

“It’s not that,” you tried to contain your amusement. “It’s just…what a very Bang Chan thing of you to ask.”

Even through the dim light of your living room, you could tell that the smile he flashed you didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was being serious, you realized with a start, at least to some degree. 

“I mean,” you paused, searching for the right answer to such a heavy question—if there even was one. “I guess it’s something you can only believe in once you experience it for yourself, right?”

It was Chan’s turn to hesitate, nibbling on his lower lip in silence. Whether he was holding back what he really wanted to say, or simply lost in thought, you couldn’t decide.

“Why do you ask?”

“Dunno,” he said slowly. “Just wondering.”

“Huh. Really?”

It was a vague explanation, and you knew better than to accept it at face value. Knowing Chan, he wouldn’t have even raised such a topic with you if it hadn’t been weighing on his mind for some time now, longer than he himself may have even been aware of. The concept was more or less a mystery to you; a special sort of relationship that, judging by name alone, was brimming with intensity, if not defined by it. You wondered just how deeply Chan had immersed himself in its ideals, if it was one of those philosophies he’d adopted into his heart and spent sleepless nights thinking about, despite the superstition of it all, just as a way to understand the world around him—the people around him. Maybe, even, to understand himself. 

“I’ve just never really felt like this before,” an awkward chuckle escaped him, as if to lessen the gravity of what he was implying. “I feel like you can see right through me.”

See right through me. 

Your heart leapt in your chest. Immediately, you understood what he meant; the exact same phenomenon you’d been trying to wrap your head around since the day you’d first met him. You’d been so caught up in your concerns over how effortlessly he seemed to read you—seeing past every carefully crafted guise you could conjure up like it didn’t even exist—that you hadn’t ever considered he might be experiencing the same feeling on his end. The feeling of knowing each other long before you’d ever crossed paths. 

It had a strange effect on you. Elation. Dread. Had you felt like this before? In a certain sense, you knew that you had. 

The familiar foolishness of being prepared to give someone your all—of stubbornly believing that, somehow, you would never run out of things to give. At the same time, though, it couldn’t be more different. Chan couldn’t be more different. For the first time, you were faced with an unexpected obstacle in your efforts to trudge mercilessly down the path to your own detriment. He wasn’t there to usher you along like so many had before, feeding off your every step until your legs inevitably gave out from under you. He was there to guide you down a different path—one that was infinitely more pleasant, and one that you were infinitely less acquainted with. 

It couldn’t be more different because now, with every drop of yourself that you so willingly offered up to him, you fretted over what you might be draining from him in return. Chan was, after all, every bit as self-sacrificing as you, and then some. 

That didn’t even begin to cover everything else that surrounded your relationship. The magnetic pull that drew you to him wherever you roamed, the burning sensation that consumed your body any time he so much as crossed your mind, the insatiable desire to open him up and witness him in his entirety—to know every part of him like it was your own. 

If those were the kinds of things twin flames entailed, then, yes, you believed in them. You’d believe in anything that connected you to him. 

It dawned on you, suddenly, that you hadn’t spoken for what was probably an unsettling amount of time. The slightest bit frantic, you combed your brain for an answer, overtaken by an urge to reassure the boy next to you before he made the decision to never share an even remotely personal thought with you again. You didn’t doubt that he would. Despite his seemingly endless levels of understanding, Chan was sensitive. He wouldn’t forget.

“Did I say something wrong?” he chuckled again. It wasn’t even awkward this time, just bordering on defeated.

“No, no,” you cursed yourself for even giving him the chance to second-guess such an idea, for giving him any more reason to believe that opening up to you could ever be a mistake. “I was just caught off guard. Sorry, Channie.”

You shifted in your spot, turning inwards to get a better look at him. He wasn’t making eye contact—nothing new there—but it wasn’t just his usual timidity at play. It was something you could only describe as akin to shame, the expression of someone who had overestimated his importance and was now berating himself for ever having the audacity to assume he mattered. You decided, instantly, that it was a look you never wanted to see cross his face again.

“I think it’s the same for me.”

You didn’t think, you knew. You knew it better than anything else. Still, it was difficult to say out loud, even when Chan was sitting before you, looking ready to bare himself to you with a sincerity that you may not entirely deserve. 

He perked up a bit, and you relaxed the instant that fog of uncertainty cleared from his face, brightening it once more. “Really?”

“Do you…” you prayed that you wouldn’t sound completely insane in what came out of your mouth next. “Do you feel it, too? That weird sort of heat?”

His eyes widened, fingers flexing where they rested on his thigh.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I feel it. When we first met, I thought you had a fever or something.”

A wave of sentimentality crashed over you all at once. You thought back to that day; that horribly clumsy first encounter that had you certain Chan would tell Changbin to please keep his strange friend far, far away from him in the future. The encounter that had ignited something you hadn’t been able to explain—something you still couldn’t explain, even six months later.

“I thought you were a human pressure cooker.”

“A pressure cooker?” he grinned, actually taking a moment to consider it. “I kinda am.”

That ever-present tug found your heartstrings again. But you knew he’d intended on it being light, a playful jab at himself that was truer than he seemed to understand. So, you didn’t dwell on it.

“Guess we’ve got the flames part down, then,” you joked.

“I’ve been reading about them.” His eyes twinkled, now encouraged. “They’re not exactly soulmates—more like two parts of the same soul. Kinda like you’re holding up a mirror to yourself.”

“Sounds poetic,” you murmured. He was speaking so earnestly, like he’d been longing for the opportunity to share these thoughts with someone all his life. You might’ve accepted anything he said in that moment as an absolute truth. “So, how do you know if you’ve found yours?”

“Lots of ways.” He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “Shared experiences, for one. Uncanny similarities, and that feeling of…” he trailed off briefly, features softening. “Like you’re a part of each other, y’know?”

Each example stirred something deeper and deeper within you, rattling the windows and doors of your mind. Shared experiences. Uncanny similarities. A part of each other. Memories from that night two weeks ago swarmed you, demanding all your focus and ripping you away from the present conversation all at once. Chan’s flow of tears, his vulnerability, his dependence on you. How the cracks you’d caught glimpses of in just one of the many, many walls he’d put up finally spread far enough to send the entire structure crumbling unceremoniously to the ground. 

Not only that, but his uncontainable guilt the next day, and every day that followed. His profuse apologies for allowing you to see him like that, his promises to make it up to you, and, most heartbreaking of all, his subtle spike in attachment, as if he was afraid that now that you’d discovered a side to him that dared to be anything less than accommodating—anything less than convenient for you—you’d pack up and leave without a second thought. No matter how many times you’d reassured him that it was fine, good even, to allow himself to lean on you, he was nevertheless determined to return the favor. Like it was transactional, like you couldn’t possibly have been there for him simply because you wanted to be. Because you loved him.

You were all too conscious of the fact that your promise to him back in July hadn’t been forgotten. The clock was ticking, with each passing second serving as a wrench to the bolts you’d kept so tightly wound up all these months—all your life, really. If Chan’s feelings were anything like yours, you knew he must be hungry for it, the opportunity to loosen the bolts himself and peer into what was buried inside. 

It was as invigorating as it was terrifying. The fear of being known, the comfort of being understood.

“A part of each other,” you echoed. “That’s...”

“Kinda scary, yeah?”

“A little,” you admitted. “But I think my parts are in pretty good hands.”

Chan beamed, eyes crinkling and teeth peeking out under heart-shaped lips, flooding his face with a glow that washed away any remaining trace of his earlier reservations. Despite yourself, you smiled back, choosing selfishly to fall into his warmth. It wasn’t in short supply—not in the slightest, it was limitless—but inexplicably, you always held yourself back just a bit. 

Even now, you couldn’t escape that survival instinct, that pesky voice in the depths of your brain telling you to take him in moderation, to keep a distance before you grew accustomed to something you weren’t sure you’d be able to go back to living without. But it was a losing battle from the start, and it was far too late to fight it now, anyway. 

Chan’s hand brushed against yours, sending a gentle ripple of heat through your skin and pulling you out of the hole you’d been digging in your head. Before he could ask what you were thinking about—and he was going to, you could feel his flicker of curiosity—you spoke up again, throwing out a question of your own.

“How about you? Do you like your reflection?”

He studied your face, and the lapse in his reply might have made you panic if you weren’t so taken by the fact that, miraculously, he was holding your stare for longer than just a precious few seconds. Your fingers twitched against his, resisting the impulse to reach up and brush them over the tip of your nose.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “For once, I do.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

October’s pleasant chill came to an end, leaving behind a harsher cold spell for the incoming winter months. Bright orange leaves, once providing a golden canopy of light overhead, now littered the ground, dead and dull. Still, it was a sight to admire in its own way—a paper sheet shielding the grass from November’s sharp winds and more frigid temperatures, like the leaves had chosen to sacrifice themselves for the sake of protecting everything else. 

You tried not to think about it, how dangerously close graduation was drawing. The view of the finish line on the horizon wasn’t exactly a comforting one, not when it led right into another race—one that would be even more critical than the last. You didn’t want to think about what it would mean for you once your final semester was complete; what it would mean for your studies, your home, your friendships, Chan. The question of where you would go from here was always lingering in the back of your mind, and no matter how much it haunted your thoughts, you still hadn’t managed to find a sufficient answer. All you knew for sure was that whatever path you walked next, you wanted to be side by side with him, matching your steps and feeling your hand brush against his with each swing.

On a less cynical note, the uncertainty of where the future might take you made days like today all the more valuable, reminding you that, regardless of the tricks nostalgia might play, there were always new memories to be made and cherished. You shoved your hands into your pockets with a shiver as you entered the bowling alley, longing for Chan now more than ever. Just one touch from him, and all the cold nagging at your bones from the walk there would dissipate in an instant.

You felt his warmth begin to spread through your skin as soon as you spotted that familiar head of curls near the front counter. His hair swayed with the rest of his body as he rocked back and forth on his heels, looking absentminded. If you drew close enough, you had no doubt you’d catch a snippet of whatever melody he was sure to be humming. 

Before his presence could fully relax you, however, you registered who was standing there next to him, effectively countering his heat with a sharp chill down your spine. You hadn’t known he was coming. Changbin hadn’t told you he was coming. If he had, you surely would’ve found some excuse to stay home, or, at the very least, prepared yourself to deal with the guy who had so diligently been playing the role of bane of your existence these past months.

Channeling all your strength, you forced a smile and called out a greeting to the group. 

Two pairs of eyes lit up, and one pair narrowed.

“You’re here!” Changbin piped. He elbowed Chan lightly, a self-righteous look crossing his face. “See? I told you we weren’t late.”

You kept your expression calm as you approached them, but it did little to ebb the unease steadily piling up in your stomach. Without a word, Chan’s hand reached out for yours, and you wove your fingers together, barely suppressing an exhale when warmth kindled in your palm.

“I’ve just learned to give it an extra ten minutes before leaving to meet up with you, Bin,” you teased.

It was lighthearted, but he seemed to sense that you weren’t entirely joking. You exchanged an amused glance with Chan as Changbin’s smug look dropped into the frown of someone whose peace had been disturbed, suddenly reevaluating every occasion where he’d so gleefully believed that he was becoming more punctual.

“That’s messed up,” he huffed. “Maybe next time I just won’t show up at all.”

“You say that like you haven't done it before.”

“And as soon as I did, you stole my best friend.” He looked dramatically off to the side, passing your bowling shoes to you. “On second thought, I’d better stick around.”

Half-embarrassed, you cleared your throat and hooked your fingers under the cuffs of the shoes, surprised to find that he’d chosen the right size for you. Just as you opened your mouth to question it, you found your answer—or, rather, you felt it, in the palm of your other hand. You kept quiet to avoid setting yourself up for more playful jabs, but the affection that buzzed to life in your chest was too much to ignore altogether, instead manifesting as a grateful squeeze to Chan’s hand. It was something you weren’t quite used to, something you weren’t sure you’d ever get really used to: care down to the last little detail.

You’d made it a point thus far to stay focused solely on Chan and Changbin, not keen on confronting the source of the tension looming behind your smile. It was probably best not to utter a word to him, anyway, given the direction your conversations veered into every single time without fail. Regardless of which approach you took, regardless of how tightly you gripped the steering wheel, it always spun into something uncontrollable.

But as your eyes wandered casually over to the empty lanes further inside the building, you made the grave mistake of locking them with his—fleeting, but just enough to make your gut twist. You tore your stare away as soon it landed on him, bracing yourself for that inevitable surge of frost, a glare that spoke a thousand scornful words. 

“Hey.”

You wondered for a moment if you’d imagined it, or if Lee Minho was really speaking to you on his own accord. Granted, it was just a simple greeting, but strangely void of his usual disgust when addressing you.

It put you at a complete loss, thoughts scrambling to decipher what his angle could possibly be. You had half a mind to not even respond, but you knew that wasn’t an option when Chan and Changbin were right there, well within earshot. Instead, you settled for nodding at him with a quiet “Hello.”

“You look cold,” he commented.

“Well, it’s cold out.”

Not your most eloquent response. In your defense, you were still trying to make heads or tails of why he was bothering to acknowledge you. His words felt like a taunt in your paranoid mind, like somehow, he was fully aware of the chill that gripped you every time he so much as glanced your way. Mistrust bubbled up inside you, threatening to burst through the surface when he shot you a half-smile that was sickeningly sweet—far too sweet to be natural. To anyone else, it was nothing but friendly, but you knew better than that by now. The closer you looked, the more reminiscent it became of his usual sneer. 

“It’s a relief you’ve got someone to call on if you get sick, then.” He cocked his head towards Chan.

Suddenly, the gears fell into place in your head, making it very clear what Minho’s intentions were. You might have found it admirable, how seamlessly he put on the act, if not for the minor detail of it being positively infuriating. 

“I make a pretty good galbitang, didn’t you know?” 

Minho’s smirk faltered just barely, but before he could say anything else, Changbin finished up with the cashier and clapped his hands together with a bit too much force, startling everyone in the vicinity. 

“We’re all set!” he announced, turning to you.“Hope you’re good at bowling, ‘cause you’re gonna be carrying Chan.”

“Hey, hey!” the boy in question protested. “I score the most out of any of us!”

“A whole eight points,” Minho quipped.

Chan gritted his teeth, still, good-natured as ever. “That…was an off day.”

You willed yourself to chuckle in spite of the bad taste Minho had left in your mouth, for Chan’s sake, if nothing else. It was difficult to envision him not immediately excelling at anything he put his mind to, especially in the realm of sports. Given Changbin’s snickers, though, you had a sneaking suspicion that the jeers held some truth to them.

The four of you made your way over to the first open station, slipping on your bowling shoes and splitting up into two teams: you and Chan versus Changbin and Minho. A quick game of rock, paper, scissors, and it was decided that you and Chan would go first. Chan wiggled his hand to push back the sleeve of his jacket and picked up a ball from the rack, testing its weight a few times before deciding on it.

You figured Changbin would be able to hold his own on his team, but, as always, Minho was more of an enigma to you. Even if he didn’t exactly seem like the athletic type, anything you thought you knew about the guy could be taken with a grain of salt these days. He was the complete opposite of Chan in that sense, so unreadable that even the most sensible, the most intuitive of assumptions could turn out to be dead wrong. You could feel Chan’s emotions like they were your own; Minho’s emotions were ones you weren’t sure you’d ever felt.

“What do you think?” You gave Chan a nudge when he approached you, admittedly endeared by the competitive gleam in his eyes. “Do we stand a chance?”

“We’re the better team, no doubt,” he grinned. “But Minho’s got this insane luck. So, we’ll see.”

You tried not to let your own smile dim. Of course he did. It was all in good fun—on the surface at least—but the mere possibility of losing to Minho was one you didn’t even want to consider. He already had enough snarky remarks lined up in his arsenal without you adding to the ammunition.

Chan took a deep breath, lifting the ball up to his face, swinging his arm back in a low arch, and releasing in one fluid motion. It hit the polished ground with an impressive speed, but your glimmer of hope was crushed just a split second later when it rolled directly into the gutter.

Countless sounds exploded all around you at once, so loud you worried you might have to issue an apology to anyone nearby who had the misfortune of being subjected to them. Changbin’s delighted cackles, Minho’s wild laughter, and Chan’s mortified shout of dismay. You covered your mouth to avoid letting your own amusement show, but it made no difference considering that Chan’s face was buried shamefully in his palms as he shuffled his way back over to you, ears already beginning to tinge red.

“Another off day!” Changbin threw his arm over Minho’s shoulder, as if their victory was already guaranteed. “Guess the experience of age is worthless, after all.”

“His old man bones just can’t keep up,” Minho clicked his tongue wistfully. 

Chan peeked out from between his fingers, any attempt at a glare rendered harmless by the wide, hopelessly embarrassed smile plastered on his face. “One year!” he cried defensively. “This is your future, Lee Minho!”

Minho’s smirk stayed intact, unfazed by the prospect of such a sad fate awaiting him. You gave Chan a sympathetic pat on the back as soon as he was within reach, trying to meet his eyes.

“Cheer up, Channie,” you encouraged. “Can’t have our ace giving up so soon, can we?”

He managed a shy chuckle, hand reaching up to fiddle with his piercing. Whether it was the other boys’ provocation that had him so flustered, or the fact that you’d been there to witness the pitiful display, you weren’t sure, but you were determined to boost his morale before he had the chance to beat himself up over it. Even for something as frivolous as a game of bowling among friends, you didn’t want to leave any room for Chan to doubt his abilities. You couldn’t help it; you’d do anything to see him shine.

As expected, Changbin was a force to be reckoned with as the game carried on, managing to score steady points for him and Minho’s team with a consistent flow of spares and strikes—that was, when he wasn’t stepping over the line and fouling himself. You were positive it wouldn’t have even been an issue if Minho didn’t point out his mistakes every single time, eventually spiraling into a full-blown argument between the two with Changbin loudly demanding to know whose side he really was on. 

Between their bickering and Chan’s bubbly laughter, emitting fondness with every squeak, it almost felt like old times. You almost felt light, just as you had during those spring days spent studying in their apartment. Bumping your shoulder against Changbin’s to keep him focused as you listened to Chan ramble on about thermodynamics with thinly-veiled adoration, taking more and more frequent breaks each passing week just as an excuse to snack and chat with each other, laughing quietly to yourself every time Minho would, inevitably, disturb the study session and antics would ensue between the three boys—more often than not, pulling you into an ambitious new cooking experiment or an hour long tangent to debate the strangest existential topics known to man. In retrospect, it had been the closest to carefree you’d felt in a long time. 

“Just throw the ball like a normal person!” Changbin shouted, snapping you back to the present.

Minho sniffed, not breaking eye contact with him once as he bent forward, spread his legs, and tossed the bowling ball carelessly through them. To your astonishment, it rolled down the center of the lane; steady, and by some miracle, steering clear of the gutters all the way to the end. The incredulous sound you let out was only rivaled by Chan’s stunned yelp, half-impressed, half-horrified as the ball managed to knock over a respectable five pins.

It became clear, in that moment, that Minho’s aforementioned luck was very much real, and it operated just as erratically as his own mind did. With each increasingly bizarre stance and tactic he implemented, he was scoring dozens of points before you knew it.

Chan never quite seemed to recover from his initial fumble, and, as much as you wanted to win, it was undoubtedly adorable every time he sank into a crouch, wailing miserably into his knees after yet another failed attempt at gaining some momentum. He was trying to be a good sport about it, even with Changbin and Minho’s taunts making the task near-impossible, but you could still feel the fire of frustration behind his every awkward glance at the monitor and apologetic smile sent your way. 

Fortunately, you were able to score enough points to keep the gap between your teams from growing too wide, even pulling a few strikes here and there. It was a bit silly how seriously you were beginning to take the game, but you were fueled on by the desire to lift Chan’s spirits—and, on a pettier note, a desire to see Minho lose. By the time you reached the final round, you and Chan were only behind by nine points.

“Hope I haven’t been too heavy for you,” he remarked, sheepish as he picked up the ball for his last turn.

“I don’t like hearing such defeated words from Bang Christopher Chan,” you frowned. “C’mon, show me some of that showcase confidence!”

He ducked his head with a puff of laughter, thumbs gliding over the sleek surface of the bowling ball. “That was different.”

“That was in front of a crowd of strangers,” you agreed. “This is just me.”

“Exactly,” he hummed softly. “It’s you.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was getting at, only fully registering it when you spotted the rosiness of his cheeks flushing into something deeper, something much more noticeable. Acutely aware of Minho and Changbin’s eyes on you, you tried to keep a straight face, even if every cell in your body called for you to cup Chan’s face and press a kiss to his pouty lips right then and there. He was unreal. It was unreal how, even now, he could charm you so effortlessly—accidentally, even.

“Alright,” he sucked in through his teeth, seemingly reaching a verdict. “Do you think you could turn around? Just this time?”

You blinked, dumbfounded. When you said nothing, he lifted his gaze to give you a look that, despite the absurdity of his request, was resolute as ever. That was all the convincing it took for you to indulge him. 

Changbin watched curiously as you turned your back to the lanes, but you made no effort to explain yourself, figuring it would only be all the more embarrassing for Chan if his plan ultimately failed. It was too easy for you to picture his concentrated expression in your head as you waited patiently for him to make the shot—eyebrows furrowed with a striking intensity, but lips twitching in a way that betrayed his excitement underneath.

The heavy thump of the ball against the polished floor met your ears, and shortly after, the crashing of pins, followed by a chorus of disbelieving shouts. You spun around just in time to see Chan rushing back over to you, beaming so wide that his cheeks eclipsed his eyes. 

“You can’t be serious,” your voice turned up into a squeak as he pulled you into a triumphant, bone-crushing hug. “No way that worked.”

“Told you,” he sang into your ear. “It’s you.”

Any disappointment Changbin might have felt over losing was crushed by sheer delight when it became apparent to him what had just happened. “Oh, this is too much,” he howled with laughter, leaning against Minho—who, you were surprised to find, had a faintly amused smile on his face, as well. You looked away as quickly as you caught it, driven by that feeling of alienation, an understanding that it wasn’t a sight for you.

In honor of your victory against all odds, Chan decided to head over to the concessions stand he’d been eyeing since you’d first arrived at the bowling alley. Changbin jumped at the chance to tag along, setting panic off in your mind the instant you realized what that meant for you. You stood a bit too quickly, offering to join and help them carry back the snacks, only to be waved off with a reassuring smile from Chan.

Despite your discomfort, you relented, deciding it’d be best not to rouse any suspicions. You slumped back down in your chair as the two walked away, leaving you and Minho sitting directly across from each other in silence.

It wasn’t long before you began to run out of points of interest to look at other than him. Your eyes shifted awkwardly from your shoes to the monitor, from the monitor to the ball rack, from the ball rack to the distant lanes, and right back to your shoes. The cycle repeated for a good few minutes, and just as you reached into your pocket to fish out your phone in a last resort to quell the awkwardness, Minho decided to speak up. Oddly chatty today, you noted. 

“Didn’t see you at Chan’s birthday party.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What of it?”

“Just thought it was interesting,” he pointed out. “Since you care about him so much, and all.”

There was a laughable irony there, that the person who was the sole reason why you hadn’t shown up to celebrate Chan, was now questioning why you hadn’t—an irony that, you were willing to bet, he was well aware of.

“I didn’t think I was exactly welcome,” you said plainly. 

“Showing up uninvited is nothing new to you, is it?”

You clenched your jaw. “Look, Minho, I’m really not in the mood,” you hissed. “What exactly are you trying to gain from all this?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering about you, too,” he bounced off you with ease. “I’m kinda curious—did it make you feel better about yourself when you visited him? Felt like you proved something with that soup?”

“Proved something?” You didn’t bother to watch your volume this time, thoroughly set-off in a matter of seconds. “If you think I have anything to prove to you, you’re fucking delusional.”

Even as you spat the words with an uncharacteristic lack of restraint—and decorum—a wisp of doubt brushed past your mind, the same way it had the day you’d confronted him after checking on Chan. Why did he sound so sure of himself? Why did you even allow yourself to entertain his accusations?

What did he know that you didn’t?

He leaned back in his chair, whatever harsh retort that was on the tip of his tongue immediately being cut short when he spotted Changbin hobbling back over with an armful of snacks.

“Someone go help Chan out!” he called. “I don’t think he can carry everything himself.”

Minho rose from his spot before you had the chance to, eyes glinting as he shot you one last look. “You should get that temper of yours checked out,” he suggested under his breath. “Chan might like it, but others won’t.”

At that, he slunk off, leaving you with nothing to do but fume in frustration as Changbin made his way over to you. He dropped his stash on the table with a self-satisfied whistle, picking up a bag of chips and passing it to you.

“Here,” he offered. “Chan got these for you.”

You caught a glimpse of the brand—your favorite. It brought a smile to your face just in time, wiping away your scowl before Changbin could get a proper look at you, but even the warmth glowing in your chest wasn’t enough to erase the residual tension left behind by Minho. Changbin squinted as he settled down next to you, popping open a bag of his own.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you replied quickly. “Thanks for the snack.”

He crunched down on his shrimp chip with a suspicious hum, not convinced by your dull tone in the slightest.

“Are you having fun?”

“Of course,” you smiled, only half-feigned. “Chan and I just won, didn’t we?”

Changbin chewed thoughtfully a few times, breaking his inquisitive stare to shoot a glance over his shoulder, exactly in the direction Minho had disappeared to. When he turned back to you, his expression was more solemn; knowing.

“Is it Minho?”

You couldn’t find the will in you to hide it, picking uncomfortably at the plastic bag in your hands. “I guess I didn’t expect him to be here.”

“Oh,” he frowned. “Did you ever end up talking to him?”

“I did.”

“And?”

You shrugged. “He just doesn’t like me, simple as that.”

You tried to keep your voice casual, unaffected, but Changbin’s reaction to the news made it difficult to maintain. The fact that he seemed so genuinely puzzled almost rubbed salt in the wound, like he’d had the utmost faith that a simple conversation was all it would’ve taken for the two of you to sort things out. Amidst all the complicated feelings you had on the issue, a new one joined the fray: guilt. You hadn’t been able to make it work. If anything, your efforts had sent the situation spiraling into something much worse. All you could do now was ensure that a problem as ridiculous as this wouldn’t reach anyone else—Chan, most of all. 

“I don’t get it,” Changbin muttered, brows scrunching together. “I never got the feeling that he doesn’t like you.”

“You definitely would if you saw the way he talks to me.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you nearly cringed over the self-pity laced in them. You didn’t want to be a victim in this situation, especially not if it meant pressuring Changbin to pick a side between you and Minho like you were children fighting on a playground.

“I can have a chat with him, if you want. See what’s really going on.”

“No, no,” you dismissed it like a reflex. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure? It’ll be easier for me to get through to him.”

“No, Bin. Seriously,” you paused, not having intended it to come out so sharp. “Sorry. I mean, thank you, but it’s alright. I’d rather handle it myself, y’know?”

It had been made abundantly clear to you that you were, in fact, doing a terrible job at handling it yourself, but Changbin didn’t need to know that. The last thing you wanted was to grant Minho the satisfaction of Changbin revealing just how much his behavior was affecting you—or, even worse, the very real possibility of Chan catching wind of it. You could already picture Minho’s scornful stare, voice dripping with mockery as he ridiculed you for needing to call on Changbin to protect you, for not being able to fight the battles that, in his head, you’d instigated with your mere existence. The thought alone made you shudder in your spot, visibly enough for Changbin to notice.

A strange look crossed his face, one you’d only ever really seen on a few rare occasions before. It was grounded, mature; a side to him that, oftentimes, you tended to forget existed because he traded it out for something less intense. Without him even needing to say a word, you knew that his attentive instincts had kicked in, and once they had, they would be difficult to shake. 

“You just seem upset,” he said at last.

“I’m not,” you insisted. “Sometimes people just don’t get along. It’s not worth stressing about, so, please don’t say anything to Minho. Or Chan.”

He eyed you for a few seconds longer, and briefly, you worried that he may actually let his stubbornness get the best of him. It was comical, in a sense, how you’d grown so accustomed to disregarding your own emotions in all facets of life, that being faced with a shred of compassion felt more like a hindrance than anything else. Fortunately, the concern was short-lived. With a grunt of agreement, Changbin popped another chip into his mouth. 

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

The relief you felt upon hearing those words increased tenfold as you spotted Chan returning with Minho from the concessions stand, loaded with snacks and drinks that even his long arms could hardly contain. He was smiling, no doubt still giddy over your unexpected win and the victory meal that was lined up for him. That was all it took to make you absolutely certain of your decision.

“I’m sure. Thanks, Bin.”

You wanted to be the reason for Chan’s smile. If it meant securing his happiness, then you could deal with it, no questions asked. 

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The shrill ping of your laptop—a sound you’d come to despise in recent weeks—rang out to notify you of a new email in your inbox, breaking your focus so that you lost your place in the article you’d been reading.

Huffing to yourself, you clicked off the page begrudgingly and switched to your email tab, reluctant to see what academic horrors were lying in wait for you. As expected, it was a followup message from your lab instructor. With the fall semester drawing to a close in just under a month, the pressure was on for you to complete your research paper in time to have your findings included as part of the final study. Having your name on a published academic paper was an essential goal you had set for yourself as an undergraduate; something to give you an extra edge in the fiercely competitive field of astrophysics. The only problem was, (save for the grueling amounts of time and effort it took to reach that point) you had to get your draft approved before it was too late, a task that was beginning to seem impossible with every new response you received from your instructor.

Today was no different, a fresh wave of stress washing over you as you read the contents of her email. Another extensive list of revisions, a reminder of your approaching deadline, and, most troubling of all, another order to have your progress peer reviewed by at least one other student as part of the physics department protocol. Alarm spiked within you. You didn’t have a lot of time.

Before you’d even finished reading the email, you reached blindly for your phone, fumbling with the passcode in your haste to unlock it and open up your messaging app. 

you (9:23 p.m.) hey! sorry to nag about this again but have u had the chance to look over my paper?

You tried to get a grip on your impatience, telling yourself that it was just the incessant desire to be done with the process already that had you so on edge. But all it took was a few minutes of waiting for you to start tapping your fingers anxiously against your desk, debating whether or not you should try calling instead before you succumbed to the unreasonable levels of foreboding stacking up inside you.

Then, at last, a reply. Any reassurance it might have brought you instantly dwindled as soon as you read it.

iseul 🪷 (9:34 p.m.) omg… omfg no i totally forgot

You pressed your lips together. In a way, you couldn’t exactly say you were surprised. Not in the slightest, actually.

you (9:34 p.m.) okay no worries are u still able to? the deadline’s pretty soon

iseul 🪷 (9:39 p.m.) i’m not sure tbh i’m kinda busy rn so i’ll lyk later on a date ;P

Your heart sank, panic shooting through the roof. It’d been well over a week since you’d first asked her to look over your paper, and you’d made a conscious effort not to press the subject too much to avoid coming off as pushy. Now, you wished desperately that you’d been firmer from the start. Surely, then, she would’ve realized how important it was to you. Surely, then, she would’ve prioritized it.

You took a deep breath, mind frantic and scrambling for a solution. It found one almost immediately, like second nature, but you pushed the thought away as soon as it came. You didn’t want to bother him. Absolutely not. 

As you continued to wager the possibilities, however, it became more and more evident to you that there may not be any other option on such short notice—or, maybe, you just felt a selfish need to reach out to him in that moment, knowing you would be met with nothing but that certain warmth. It was a foreign desire, completely unlike you, and you weren’t sure you liked how often it wormed its way into your brain these days.

You’d consulted a handful of other friends before Iseul, all of which shared your major; a double-edged sword in this case. While it made them reliable candidates for peer review, the issue lied in the fact that they were all preoccupied with their own capstone research. Even without the added weight of having to complete an extensive documentation by a strict deadline like you had, the amount of work their labs required was more than enough to keep them busy. 

Changbin was no exception. You’d already been hesitant to ask him from the start—which was, frankly, a bit ridiculous considering he’d demonstrated time and time again how dependable he could be if the situation called for it—so when he’d apologetically told you that he wouldn’t be able to get to it before at least another week, you’d dropped the subject without a second thought. It would be too far late by then, and bringing it up a second time would only put an unnecessary pressure on him. Even if you got a response in a timely manner (a pipe dream in itself), his answer would be the same, and your paper would more than likely end up falling into Chan’s hands, anyway. 

You tapped your thumbs together indecisively, trying to approach it with a clear mind. Maybe it was okay. Maybe it wasn’t wrong to allow yourself to rely on him just a little bit, to lean into that warmth you’d been so determined to ration for reasons you couldn’t fully grasp.

Maybe, it wouldn’t be so unforgivable to take your own advice, just this once. 

Steeling yourself, you hit Chan’s contact before you could talk yourself out of it. All it took was a matter of three rings, and you heard the other line pick up. That was another detail you’d noticed lately, another subtle shift in attachment that made your chest tighten when you lingered on it for too long. He was much more responsive ever since that day in October, texting back uncharacteristically fast and calling uncharacteristically more often compared to the usual, comfortable periods of absence between the two of you. It was as if he was on standby for you at all times, ready to jump at the opportunity to meet your every beck and call in case there was something—anything—he could do for you.

“Hey, you.”

In spite of everything, his melodic lilt soothed your nerves. It always did. 

“Hi Channie,” you couldn’t mask the stiffness in your voice. “Are you busy?”

“I’ve got time,” he chirped. He didn’t say it, but you knew what he meant; he had time for you. “But first, guess what I’ve been working on.”

Fondness tugged at the corners of your mouth. “What?”

“Not telling,” you could practically hear the dimples carving their way into his cheeks. “You gotta guess.”

“Hm. Could it be what I think it is?” 

“Dunno,” he giggled. “You’re the one who can see right through me, yeah?”

You let the pull at your lips form fully into a smile. “In that case, you’d better not break your promise.”

It wasn’t difficult to envision the look on his face, the pure giddiness it etched into his features to know that you’d caught on with ease. Speaking in riddles because he could; a language only the two of you could understand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he hummed. “So, what’s up?”

You faltered, having nearly forgotten your reason for calling him in the first place. The cheerful rhythm of his voice and the charming tune of his laughter had almost been enough to sway you, to change your mind and shield him from the academic nightmares that he was no stranger to. But anxiety spiked within you all over again as you were reminded of your looming deadline, providing all the push you needed to latch on to him with an embarrassing speed.

“Actually, I…” you began slowly. “I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

“Anything,” he said it without an ounce of hesitation, ready to comply before he even heard your request. It made your heart swell—with affection, gratitude, and something else you couldn’t quite place. 

“So, Iseul was supposed to review my research paper draft before I submitted it for the final publication but…but I don’t think she can anymore,” you hoped to sound nonchalant, not wanting a single drop of your unease to spill on his conscience. “I know it’s a lot to ask on short notice, so it’s absolutely fine if you can’t, but—”

“Of course, I can.”

“Really?” you swallowed. “Thank you, I…”

A critical thought crossed your mind, bringing the sense of calm that Chan always enveloped you with to an immediate halt. You felt stupid for not considering it sooner, for allowing yourself to be so short-sighted, even for just a moment.

“Your project,” you said suddenly. “Your mentor gave you an extension, right? Did you finish it? Because you need to work on that instead if—”

“Nah,” he assured you. “It’s all done, don’t worry.”

You paused. It was just your inner saboteur making excuses, probably—grasping for any reason at all to pull back before you committed to burdening him with your troubles—but why was it that every single time he told you not to worry, it only worried you more?

Still, you forced your reservations to the side. Maybe he sounded so terse because it was still a sensitive topic for him, something he couldn’t think back to without the guilt that surrounded that night plaguing his mind all over again. It made you soften with sympathy, and a faint hope that, just maybe, your gentle words as you’d bathed him had pierced through the fog of doubt in his mind—enough to compel him to be honest with you about this.

“O-okay. Then, yeah, I’d really appreciate your help,” you exhaled. “Thank you, Channie.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured. “The least I could do, really.”

You nearly laughed out loud. The least he could do. As if he owed you something, as if he didn’t do more for you than you could ever express simply by being himself.

He could read you with such ease—could catch on to your every thought and sentiment, however fleeting, like it was the most natural thing in the world—but the view of him from your eyes, the sight of himself from a lens of pure, unadulterated adoration; that was one thing he’d never be able to truly comprehend.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

“I didn’t lose it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Lose sounds so…so harsh,” Changbin protested. “I just happened to put it somewhere and can’t remember where that somewhere is.”

“That’s a relief,” you snorted. “You had me scared for a second.”

“It was an accident, seriously!” 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You gave him a good-natured shove as the two of you shuffled down the hall side by side, a sight that had become commonplace for anyone who frequented the physics building. “But if I were you, I’d get to searching.”

“C’mon, it could be anywhere!” he complained. 

“I’m saying this for your own good, Seo Changbin. Do you really wanna suffer through finals without your lucky charm?”

Changbin’s face dropped, a horrified look of realization parting his lips and widening his eyes.

“I’ll find it,” he mumbled, so serious that you couldn’t hold back a snicker. “For you, of course. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Uh-huh,” you said plainly. “Once you do, custody of Cinnamoroll is going right back to me.”

You weren’t upset about it, not really. It was honestly a miracle that he’d been able to keep track of something as trivial as a pencil for so long in the first place. Though, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t an undeniable feeling of wistfulness there, to think that the prized possession that had initially brought you and Changbin together was now missing. You weren’t exactly the superstitious type—well, maybe that had changed just the slightest bit as of late—but it almost felt like a bad omen of sorts.

“That’s too cruel,” Changbin whined. “I’ll never let him out of my sight again, I swear.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you in anticipation of a response; but you were lost in thought. A sea of inhibitions that, funnily enough, had inched further and further up the shore in recent months, months where you’d been objectively happier than even your highest points over the past few years. 

You were certain your change in demeanor wouldn’t go unnoticed by Changbin—he’d tapped far more into his observant side as of late, ever since he’d come to learn that you and Minho weren’t nearly as in harmony as he’d led himself to believe. Between his added scrutiny, Minho’s pointed, all-knowing glares, and Chan’s ability to tune in to even the finest shift in your emotions, you didn’t think you’d ever felt more uncomfortably seen in your life. You felt like you were being watched from all angles; nowhere to hide, no way to maneuver yourself so that your loose seams weren’t visible.

“Wanna go bowling tonight?” Changbin suggested, breaking your stream of consciousness before you were completely pulled out to sea. 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re so into it these days because it’s the only sport you can beat Chan at?”

“I can beat him at billiards, too! And soccer, even if he won't admit it,” he retorted. “Besides, it’ll just be you and me. Pretty sure Chan’s busy with makeup work.”

You froze.

“What?”

It took Changbin a second to realize that you weren’t walking beside him anymore. He stopped in his tracks, turning to give you a strange look.

“Y’know, that big project with his mentor. It’s due tonight, I think.”

Your stomach dropped. All at once, dread consumed you, at such an alarming rate that it felt akin to plunging into ice cold water on a hot, sunny day. You didn’t want to believe it; you wanted to tell yourself that Changbin had to be mistaken, that Chan had finished his work days ago like he’d told you, and that he certainly hadn’t taken on the burden of reviewing over twenty pages of scientific jargon for you when he still had a very crucial, very future-defining project of his own to complete.

Even as you tried to convince yourself, even if you wanted to cling to the faith you’d put in him more than anything, even though you knew Changbin was notoriously bad with dates, deep down, you already had your answer.

Changbin’s expression grew heavy with concern. “What’s with that face?”

You cleared your throat, praying that your words would come out steady. “Nothing,” you replied quickly. “I just thought he’d already finished.”

He opened his mouth to say something—most definitely to question you further on why you looked like you’d just seen a ghost—so, you spoke up again before he had the chance.

“Anyway, yeah, let’s go bowling tonight. See who the real ace is.”

The playful challenge, strained as it was, seemed to ease Changbin’s misgivings a bit. He flashed you a smirk, taking the bait immediately.

“Haitai Bbasae shrimp chips are my favorite, by the way.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “So you know what to buy me when I win.”

You rolled your eyes. “Forgot about your pencil debt so soon?”

Your joking did nothing to seal the pit of apprehension that had opened up inside your gut. In fact, it deepened with each step you took, as if your body was physically rejecting the idea of you walking anywhere other than directly towards Phase 8 of the campus apartments; directly towards Chan.

You all but forced the muscles in your face to relax, solely to avoid rousing Changbin’s suspicions again. Already, you were regretting your decision to meet up with him later that night. Spending even an hour or two pretending like the thought of Chan—cooped up in his room, undoubtedly running on minimal sleep and an empty stomach, bloodshot eyes locked on his laptop screen as he struggled to meet the most important deadline of his academic career, all because of you—wasn’t eating away at your insides wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park, even for you. 

You told yourself it was just an overreaction. You were jumping to conclusions. Maybe taking your mind off of it tonight was exactly what you needed; enough time for Chan to finish his work, and enough time for the fog that always seemed to cloud your rationality when it came to him to clear up.

You’d mull it over properly, and then you’d talk to Chan. Everything always worked out when you talked to Chan.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

As it turned out, subjecting yourself to a constant back and forth argument for two days straight—a trial where you were playing the role of judge, jury, defendant, and prosecutor all at once—served no real purpose other than to drive you to the brink of madness.

The more you’d tried to reason with yourself, the more convinced you’d become that the situation was, in actuality, far more dire than you’d initially believed. It appeared so simple on the surface, a harmless white lie that was said only with the intention of easing your worries, to displace some of the weight from your shoulders to his. You loathed the fact that you’d managed to spin such a kind, loving gesture, such an authentically Chan gesture, into something so unpleasant. But knowing what you knew, knowing Chan, it went deeper than that. You never would’ve allowed yourself to shift that weight over to him if you’d known he hadn’t been relieved of his own first. 

It was for that reason that when Chan had called you earlier in the day to see if you were free to meet up—a timing that only spurred on your paranoid thoughts, given that he was no doubt reaching out to you because he’d finally submitted his work—you’d all but jumped at the opportunity. You needed to see him, his crinkled eye smile, his face well-rested and bright. You needed to be certain that you hadn’t ruined everything for him.

Each step up the stairwell to unit 8-325 added another layer to the anxiety piling inside of you. It was a sensation you’d experienced once before; that strangely chilly day in April, trudging your way up alongside Changbin, completely oblivious to what the universe had in store for you. Completely oblivious to the warmth you would be met with, the part of yourself that you hadn’t known you were missing until you found him.

You gave the front door a few knocks, a bit harder than usual, just in case Chan had his headphones in. Before the gusts of wind blowing through the hallway could even begin to chill you through your clothes, the door swung open. Despite everything, your heart sang at the sight of him. Eyes sleepy, and, as predicted, accompanied by those dark bags he carried around far too often for your liking, curls ruffled, hoodie wrinkled, smile lazy—just prominent enough for one of his dimples to peek out. 

You wondered if he’d been napping. The idea both calmed and unsettled you; the comfort of knowing he’d gotten some rest, the fear that he’d needed to catch up on sleep because he’d been pulling all-nighters to complete his work. Because of you.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi, Chan.”

You hadn’t even noticed the issue with your greeting until he tilted his head curiously.

“Scary,” he giggled. “Am I in trouble?”

You padded through the doorframe and slipped off your shoes, keeping quiet long enough for his grin to waver. It nearly made you grimace. Two words in, and you already couldn’t tolerate the idea of speaking to him with anything but the utmost care. 

“Sorry.” You chided yourself for being so pointlessly intense about it. You didn’t even know the full story yet; there was no need to stir unease in him like that. “How are you, Channie?”

“All good, now. I missed you,” he added.

You knew he must be wondering why you hadn’t hugged him yet. So, you leaned into his arms the very instant they outstretched. You took in his scent, his body heat, the peaceful beat of his heart. You wished the tranquility that he washed over you would last. You wished you could fall fully into him and just pretend like nothing was wrong. But then, where would you go from there? How many more times would he do something like this? How many more corners of himself would he cut until, before you knew it, you were doing the exact same thing to him as so many others had done before? The question itself was enough to scare you, let alone what the answer may be.

“I missed you, too,” you murmured. Mustering all your willpower, you pulled your head from his chest, taking a few steps deeper into the apartment with Chan following suit. 

You braced yourself, and then you tested the waters.

“So, did you finish your project?”

A heavy pause, then an awkward laugh.

“Oh, yeah. A few days ago, remember?”

You said nothing. Instead, you turned to look at him properly, not bothering to mask the doubt written all over your face. His gaze fell, and you knew, immediately, that you’d been correct.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “It’s done now, no worries.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your desire to be gentle with him was already beginning to battle it out with your urgency to get to the bottom of this, to decode what had been going on in his head when he’d made such a potentially disastrous choice for your sake. Chan reached up for his earring, eyes still averted as he rolled the silver hoop sheepishly between his fingers.

“Are you mad?”

Mad. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. The idea that you could feel anything but boundless affection for him was so incomprehensible to you. No, you weren’t mad. You were frustrated. Because you knew he saw no problem with what he had done, because the damage had been to him and no one else.

“Of course not. I…I’m really grateful you were there for me,” you began, and the hopeful way he raised his head almost made you want to leave it at that. “But I’m just a little concerned that you kept this from me, Channie. I wanted to be sure that you had nothing else on your plate before asking such a huge favor of you.”

He smiled, clearly oblivious to how much you meant it. “It’s no problem, really. I wanted to help.”

Your stomach churned. Of course he wanted to help, you knew that more than anything. Two years ago, he’d only wanted to help, too. That was the detail that had unnerved you most in the 48 hours you’d spent dissecting it all—the eerie similarities between this situation and the one Chan had poured his heart out to you about just a few weeks ago. Once you’d noticed how they paralleled each other, it was impossible to ignore, to the point where that became the driving force for your need to set things right, to put your foot down before history repeated itself.

“Don’t you remember what we talked about the other day?” you prompted, as delicately as your growing tension would allow. “What if you hadn’t finished your work in time because you were too busy helping me? Graduation is less than a month away—why would you ever risk that?”

Chan shifted his weight from side to side. You could tell he was starting to grow uncomfortable.

“This is different.”

“How?” you pressed. “How is it any different? You nearly let me jeopardize your future all over again.”

“I don’t understand,” he chuckled softly. “I finished in the end, didn’t I? There’s really no need to worry about me.”

You took a deep breath. You weren’t getting through to him.

“But what if you hadn’t? What if you failed because of this?” You didn’t miss the way he shrank back when you spoke the word, only feeding into your own distress. “Not just that, it can’t have been easy to balance so much work at once. I don’t want you taking on more than you can handle again, especially not for my sake.”

“It’s okay,” he said lightly, almost dismissive. “It was my decision, y’know? If it’s you, then it’s okay.”

Normally, the words would’ve melted your heart. They would’ve made you coo and fawn and swoon over him and his insurmountable selflessness. Now, they only frightened you. If he was willing to put something as important as this on the line without a second thought, you didn’t even want to think about what else he might try to sacrifice for you.

“Chan…” you hesitated. “I need to know that you’re not gonna do something like this again. I need you to promise me that you’ll put yourself first in this relationship, at least when it matters most.”

His expression darkened, just the slightest bit. It was a look you’d never once seen cross his face, one that felt so unnatural that you didn’t know what to make of it. But the feeling it evoked was one you understood all too well. The feeling of having a core part of himself confronted; challenged.

“I—” Chan sucked in through his teeth. “I don’t think I can promise you that.”

Your heart sank. The dread that had been slowly creeping its way up on you since you’d first arrived, now consumed you in full. He wasn’t going to stop. He was never going to stop. Not for you, or anyone else. Certainly not for himself.

“Please,” you tried again. “Please, tell me you’re not gonna put me in this position.”

You could tell, just from the bewildered look he was giving you, that he was having trouble piecing it together in his head, that he was struggling to decipher why you would ever even ask such a thing of him. Why you weren’t jumping at the opportunity to take advantage of him, to use him for all he was worth, like so many others did. 

“You’ve got to stop treating yourself like this,” you continued, not liking the way you were losing control of your voice. “If you keep giving and giving there’s not going to be anything left of you to give.” 

Chan remained silent, and for a split second, you felt a glimmer of hope that he was starting to grasp the message you were trying to send. But it was nothing more than a candle in the wind, blown out before it even had the chance to illuminate anything.

“And what about you?” 

You tensed. “What?”

“Could you make that promise to me?” he asked quietly. “Would you stop hiding things from me if I asked you to?”

Just like that, the mirror was turned on you.

“That’s…you’re changing the subject. This isn’t about me.”

“Really? I think it is.”

You held your ground, determined not to let him steer the conversation away from himself. “I know my limits, Chan. I wouldn’t hide anything serious from you.”

“Then why have you still not told me about what happened when you went home?”

It was unusually direct coming from him, just short of accusatory. You were reminded, once again, that even the parts of yourself that you thought you might be able to slip past his attentive eyes, he was well aware of—more than he ever let show. Even when he caught on to every minute detail, even when it filled his head with concern for you, he remained considerate as ever; waiting patiently until you were ready to open up yourself. At least, until now. 

“And…why haven’t you told me about what’s going on with Minho?”

Something twisted deep within you. He’d noticed. Of course he’d noticed. You’d done a horrible job in hiding it—and even if you hadn’t, he would’ve sensed something was off, anyway. He always did.

When he gauged your reaction, Chan’s face dropped into something heartbreaking, eyes flashing with a resigned sort of fear. 

“Do you—?”

“No.” You couldn’t hide your revulsion towards what you were sure he was going to ask, denying it so fiercely that it at least seemed to convince him right away. “That’s not it at all.”

“Okay,” he exhaled. “Then, what’s going on? You can tell me everything. I’m here to listen.”

Countless emotions fought for control over you all at once. Dismay. Exasperation. Vulnerability. Love. Even now, he was finding a way to focus on you, to make sure you were okay amidst your attempts to get him on speaking terms with his self-preservation. It was a testament to everything you adored about him, and everything about him that made you feel utterly helpless. You needed an escape route, a window to break out of before that pure, sincere gaze of his cast its spell on you and made you do something that you were sure to regret. Because you always regretted it, every single time. You couldn’t tell him. Not about Minho, not about home, not about her, not about him. Not because he wouldn’t care, but because he would. He would care so much that all your pain would become his.  

It was your turn to break eye contact, brushing your thumb over your nose. “It’s not something you need to hear, right now.”

“Then, when? How can I be there for you if you won’t let me?” Desperation began to seep into every word. “You promised, didn’t you?”

“I know,” you swallowed. “But that’s not the point of all this. You don’t owe me anything for what happened in October, okay? You don’t have to feel guilty just because you let yourself lean on me a bit.”

You meant the affirmations—you knew you did. So why did they suddenly sound so unconvincing? Like something you’d never believe if spoken to you. Chan pressed his lips together, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell he knew exactly what you were doing.

“If this keeps up, you’re going to hate me,” you said plainly. “You’re going to resent me for all the times you helped me when you should’ve helped yourself.”

His fingers curled around the sleeve of his hoodie, picking at its loose threads in a way that betrayed how high his tensions were running beneath the silence. 

“Why are you so sure that’s gonna happen?”

“Because…because I know you.”

“Because you do the same thing?” he asked sharply.

He wasn’t going to let you get away with it today. He was tugging at each of your seams, peeling back the adhesives to reveal what you’d let fester underneath. You were trapped. Cornered by someone who you’d come to trust more than anyone else in the world—but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. 

“Maybe I do,” you relented. There was no use in hiding it, not when he sounded more sure of himself than you’d ever heard him sound before. “That’s why I know it won’t end well. I need you to stop this, for your own good.”

“Don’t,” Chan interjected. “Please, don’t talk about what’s good for me. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh my God, Chan,” you let out a hollow laugh. “Am I supposed to agree with that?”

Of course nothing had changed. How naive, how fucking foolish of you to believe that one conversation could ever be enough to undo the ideas that had been hammered into his being by everyone around him his entire life; so extensively, so persistently that, as time went on, he began to do the hammering himself. You were positive now, that everything he’d revealed to you that night in October, as gut-wrenching as it’d been on its own, wasn’t even the half of what he’d been through. It was just a single star in a constellation of hurt.

Minho’s words echoed in your head. He was right. You weren’t special. You would take advantage of Chan just like everyone else, whether you wanted to or not. Your ex’s words echoed in your head. He had been right. You were a liar. You couldn’t even apply your own words to yourself—how could you ever, ever expect them to get through to Chan?

“These…types of relationships don’t always work out, right?” 

You didn’t want to use the term he’d used before, it felt unnecessarily cruel in that moment. Ever since he’d first brought the subject of twin flames up, you’d spent any free time you’d managed to get your hands on reading about them. That kind of connection could be transformational, sure, but the further you delved into the phenomenon, the more you came to learn that it could be just as harmful under the wrong circumstances—destructive. Two individuals who shared such core similarities were bound to experience problems far deeper-rooted and far more intense than anyone else, after all. Most people didn’t take kindly to being faced with their own traits completely unfiltered—the good, the bad, the ugly. A mirror that reflected them in their truest form. 

“Maybe we’re not ready to see these parts of ourselves. Maybe we just bring out the worst in each other.”

Each word made your tongue feel drier and drier. You didn’t dare to look at Chan as you spoke them, certain you would break the very instant your eyes locked with his.

“Maybe,” you paused. Your heart was pounding, so loud that you felt it in your ears, making it impossible to think straight. There was still a chance to take it back, to change your mind before destabilizing the foundation of everything the two of you had so carefully built until now.

Ever since you’d met Chan, you’d thought that you’d been growing, learning, healing. You’d thought you were reaching a point where you wouldn’t need to hold yourself together anymore, because you would simply be…together. No adhesives. No loose seams. Just whole. 

But here, you had him. The kind of person you’d only ever encountered once before in this lifetime, the kind of person you used to dream of knowing again. Someone who noticed every little thing you did for him and returned it tenfold, someone who loved you and meant it, and yet, somehow, you couldn’t make it work in your mind. You couldn’t shake the dread, the belief that it was all temporary, conditional, transactional. Like if you made one small misstep, it would all be lost.

In retrospect, you really hadn’t learned a thing.

“Maybe we should end this. Before we start to hurt each other.”

Chan’s breath hitched.

“What?”

“I d-don't want to hurt you. And if this continues, I'm going to.”

His hand lowered from his ear, crossing over his chest to cup his neck instead. Covering his heart, shielding himself.

“More than this?” his voice cracked. “I think this hurts more than anything else you could ever do to me.”

There was no way to conceal the effect it had on you. A physical, throbbing ache in your chest.

“Chan,” you begged inwardly for him to understand—for him to just know it, the same way he knew everything else about you like the back of his hand. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you ruin yourself for me.”

It made sense, now. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were saying what you needed to hear. The realization made it all feel infinitely more despicable. Could you even say you were doing this out of care for him? Or were you just a coward afraid to confront this part of yourself?

That was what you always did, after all; you ran. You ran from your ex, your home, your family, your friends. The moment you were faced with any kind of obstacle, you left. And this was no different. You were no different than anyone else who had abandoned Chan in the past. If anything, you were worse. A hypocrite who had the audacity to shame the people who had harmed him, then turned around to do it yourself.

“If you’re gonna leave, just do it, please.”

You wished he sounded at least a little angry about it. You wished he wasn’t so ready to accept it. You almost wished he would snap and lash out and yell, voicing every vicious thought you were thinking about yourself in that moment. A liar, a manipulator, a hypocrite. Cruel, awful, selfish.

You wished he would be a little more selfish.

But there was no contempt in his eyes, no vitriol. Not even the beginnings of tears. It felt worse—far worse. He was saving them. He wasn’t going to cry until you left.

The only emotion you could read on his face was exhaustion. By your own volition, you were no longer the reason for his smile; you’d become the reason for his weariness.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I'll let you be, now.”

You waited. For what, you weren’t sure. There was no one to swoop in and put a stop to this; you were the one who’d started it. Still, you waited. For yourself to change your mind, for Chan to change his mind, for something about all this to change.

You took one last look at the apartment around you. The stray socks, the scattered water bottles, the half-done dishes. You wondered if it was the last time you would ever see it. You hadn’t been prepared to leave it all behind. You hadn’t been prepared for any of this. 

You took one last look at him—the boy you loved. His gaze was still downcast, a detail you were, pathetically enough, grateful for. You weren’t sure you’d be able to keep it together if he met your eyes; if he looked at you with anything other than that unfettered adoration you’d come to rely on, despite every one of your instincts commanding you not to. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, to leave him with something to hold on to, but you knew it would do nothing but twist the knife. There was no way to make him understand that because you loved him so much, you had to end this. You weren’t going to let him make you his accomplice in his self-destruction, and you weren’t going to subject him to witnessing your own, either.

You turned to leave. Every step you took towards the door felt like your heart was being ripped further out of your chest. 

Your heart was there, across the room, watching you go.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

bin 😑 (monday, 1:09 p.m.) what’s this what’s this??? looks like somebody’s late for class~

bin 😑 (monday, 1:32 p.m.) ur srsly gonna leave me all alone on review day???

bin 😑 (tuesday, 4:42 p.m.) guess what i found ><

bin 😑 (today, 12:17 a.m.) i’m really being ignored… huuu ㅜ

Two days had passed. You were only aware of that fact thanks to the timestamps of Changbin’s texts. You’d skipped your classes on Monday, the first time you’d missed class the entire year—ever since you’d started university, really. 

It was a stupid decision, but, well, you were no stranger to those. You probably would have done well for yourself to attend your lectures. After all, the distractions that came with drowning yourself in academics had proved to be effective even when you were at your most miserable. That was exactly why you hadn’t gone. You didn’t deserve to distract yourself.

Eventually, though, it’d become too much to bear. Sitting alone in your apartment, with nothing to do but torture yourself with thoughts of him, of what you’d done, of the way everything had fallen apart before your very eyes—by your very hands—was a punishment that you decided you wouldn’t even wish on your worst enemy. Which, funnily enough, was probably yourself.

You didn’t deserve to miss him. You didn’t deserve to worry about him. You didn’t even deserve to wonder how he might be doing. Still, you did, anyway. Selfishly.

You squinted at your laptop screen, a harsh, white light illuminating your face. Unnatural, nothing like the soothing glow of the moon outside. It was sure to be in its Waning Gibbous phase by now, the same way it had been the night you’d first fallen for him. But it had been cloudy for two days straight. No sun shining down on you to balance out the chilly autumn air. No stars decorating the sky. No moon to watch over you at night.

It took you a few seconds to process the sound of your cellphone buzzing against your desk. Your eyes flickered over to it, lacking the energy to even turn your head fully. It was Iseul. Given how late it was, she was undoubtedly calling about some problem or another. So, for the first time, you let it go to voicemail. 

But nothing was ever that easy. You didn’t even have the chance to find where you’d left off in your notes before she was calling again, not even bothering to leave a message or to give you time to call back first.

It was probably best not to answer. You were in no state to answer.

You steeled yourself, and you took the call.

Before you could even say hello, her distressed voice ran through the speaker. 

“Can you come over?”

For once, you wished you’d been wrong about why she was contacting you. You wished that this friendship, which was usually a comfortable constant for you, a way for both of your needs to be met, could be put on hold. You wished she saw any value in you other than what you could do for her.

“Right now?” you tried to keep calm, telling yourself that it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know. How could she? You’d never let her. “I…I’m kinda busy, sorry.”

“This is important,” she sounded serious, but you knew it was more than likely that this was just another case of a very solvable issue being blown wildly out of proportion in her eyes. “I really, really need your help.”

You said nothing, not even finding it in you to string together an acceptable excuse. 

“Are you with Chan, or something?”

A physical pang in your chest. 

“Uh, yeah,” you lied. 

“Oh.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched across the call. Normally, you’d fill it, say something to keep her from feeling awkward. 

“It's really late, Iseul. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“No.” You were taken aback by how abruptly she responded. “I need your help now, I'm so serious. Can you please just come for a bit? I'm sure Chan wouldn’t care.”

Another blow from your oblivious assailant, straight to the gut. You felt short of breath.

“Maybe I can help over the phone?” you offered weakly. “What’s going on?”

“No, no, no, you have to be here! I just lost my whole fucking essay file and it’s due at 6:00 a.m. and you know I don’t know shit about computers!” her tone grew frantic the more she rambled on. “I have no idea how to get it back, I'm seriously about to cry.”

An essay. The very same thing that had led to all of this. That was more important than the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you, destroying everything in its path. Of course it was. How presumptuous of you to think otherwise. The absolute gall of you to think you deserved any amount of time to feel sorry for yourself.

You gritted your teeth. She doesn’t know.

“Okay, okay. No problem. I can just tell you how to recover it.” You left out the fact that she could’ve easily searched it up online and saved you both the trouble.

“I’m not gonna know what or where anything is!” she objected. “Can’t you just come over and fix it? I'm freaking out. You can go crawling back to your stupid boyfriend after if it matters that much.”

She wasn’t thinking with a clear head, probably—letting her stress speak for her. But it was a push too far.

“I’m not your fucking babysitter, Iseul,” you spat. “You can’t just snap your fingers every time you want me to solve a problem for you. Figure it out yourself.”

The line went silent. Long enough for you to perfectly envision her hurt expression in your head.

“What?” it came quiet, meek. Everything unlike her. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I'm tired.” You rubbed your eyes, trying to get rid of the building sting. “I can't do this right now.”

“That’s n-not an excuse for you to talk to me like that,” her voice trembled. “I didn't do anything wrong!”

You heard a faint sniffle, and as exasperated as you were, it crashed guilt over you all the same. You didn’t want to make her feel like this. 

“I’m so stressed out and you know how hard I’ve been working on my grades so I can get into grad school. Is it that crazy for me to call my friend for help? Like, am I wrong for thinking you care about me enough to save me from failing this fucking class?”

Each word, so tone-deaf, so lacking in self-awareness, added to the pressure filling up your head, heightening it so much until it was unbearable. 

“Do you ever stop to think about the way you talk to me?” you snapped. “Or is it too much to ask for you to consider someone else’s feelings for once?”

You were being harsh, unreasonable too. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to take it back, to do what you were supposed to do and just go help her. But your conversation with Chan—everything that had led up to that doomed, wretched conversation with Chan—was all too fresh in your mind, manifesting in the ugliest of ways against someone who didn’t deserve it.

You wanted to blame her. You wanted it to be all her fault. If she had just been there for you when you’d needed her, none of this would have happened. Even as you tried to convince yourself of it, you knew it wasn’t true. What had caused everything to crumble between you and Chan ran much deeper than that simple favor. The flaw was in the very foundation.

“I consider your feelings all the time! Are you kidding me!?” she exclaimed, offended by the accusation without taking even a moment to consider if it had any merit to it.

“Right. That’s why you only ever reach out to me when you need something.”

You could practically feel her indignation burning up on the other end of the call, and you stopped to ask yourself just what the hell you were doing. This approach would never get through to Iseul. She was far too proud, far too sensitive to receive any kind of message when delivered so tactlessly. That was why your friendship had worked all this time, why you were one of the few people who got along with her. You were nothing if not tactful, enough for the both of you.

“So what!? Friends are supposed to be there for each other!”

“Yeah,” you said bitterly. “They are.”

Another spell of silence. You wondered, briefly, if she was catching on to what you were implying, but the moment she spoke up again, you knew it’d been nothing but another baseless hope.

“Well, if you hate helping me that much, don't lie to me and act like you want to!”

“I’m not lying to you!” you retorted. “I want to help you! Every single time you come to me, I want to help you. That’s the problem!”

You’d never even raised your voice at her before, let alone to this degree. You didn’t have to see her face to know she was frightened by it—yet another point on your list of reasons to feel guilty. 

“So I’m just a problem to you,” she concluded. You could hear the sobs beginning to build in her throat. “Great, thanks.”

“Iseul, that’s not—”

“Forget it,” she hiccuped. “It must be so hard for you, right? You’re so fucking perfect and I’m so fucking selfish.”

The line went dead, leaving you gripping your phone with such intensity you worried it might actually crumple under your fingers. Of all the ever-changing things in this world, the one you’d always been able to control was yourself. But it seemed even that was too tall of an order these days. 

Maybe you really did need to get that temper of yours checked out.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

One hour later, you found yourself, once again, trudging miserably up a flight of stairs to meet your impending fate. Cold, exhausted, and filled to the brim with anxiety. You’d forgotten to throw on a jacket before leaving your apartment—far too preoccupied with the round table discussion taking place in your mind, one that was still well underway even as you impulsively made the decision to leave. By the time you reached the fourth floor of the complex, your teeth were chattering.

You gave the door a few knocks, drawing your hand back as soon as you did to rub it against the other, your best attempt at generating some warmth. There was no response for nearly a minute, and, with a tinge of fear, it dawned on you for the first time that Iseul may have very well given up and gone to sleep after your phonecall. It made your insides lurch. How could you have done this to her? How could you have let yourself be so caught up in your emotions that you treated hers so carelessly?

Why did you feel so cold?

Panicking, you knocked again, this time with a bit more force. It was nearing 4:00 a.m. now, there was still a chance for you to fix things before her deadline. There were so many things you couldn’t fix, you needed to make something right.

Finally, just as another shiver ran up your spine, you heard the click of a lock. You didn’t have the opportunity to collect yourself before the door creaked open.

The frown on her face only deepened when she saw who was standing before her. Lips curved sharply down, eyebrows lowering, eyes cleared from any residual redness, but still puffy—that strangely rejuvenated look after a good cry.

“What do you want?”

You flinched. “I’m here to help.”

She studied you without a word, but you didn’t miss the way her features mellowed the slightest bit. However coarse and uncaring she tried to make herself, she could never truly contain her expressiveness. 

You could see her weighing the options in her head, and, even as the biting chill on your skin wore your patience thinner with each passing second, you waited. You at least owed her that much.

“Fine.”

She turned, leaving the door open for you as she stalked into her apartment. With a sigh of relief, you followed.

You joined her on the couch, keeping a careful distance from where she’d slumped down. She slid her laptop over to you on the coffee table without making eye contact. It was open on a word document, two pages into her attempt at rewriting her essay. Not far off, you spotted a few stray tissues on the table, smeared black with mascara.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

You picked up the device, placing it in your lap and getting to work. Iseul’s eyes flickered over to you, more obviously than she probably thought, as you began clicking away, opening up the settings of the program and accessing the version history of the documents.

“Can you fix it?”

“Yeah.” You tilted the screen towards her. “There’s an autosave feature.”

She blinked, trying to keep up with your ministrations as you recovered the lost file with just a bit more fiddling around.

“Here. Make sure it’s the right one.”

Furrowing her brows, she scrolled through the pages and pages of her work, unable to mask her elation when she confirmed it was in fact her full essay, completely preserved from where she’d left off.

“It is.”

“Good.”

More silence. You wondered if that was your cue to leave. You’d done your job. You’d made yourself useful. There was no need to stick around.

Then, she said it; quiet, demure. 

“Thanks.”

A simple word, solidifying the belief that none of this had been worth it. Putting your feelings first was never worth it.

“You're welcome.”

A deep breath. 

“And, listen, Iseul. I'm sorry about what I said on the phone.”

She lifted her head, looking directly at you for the first time that night. 

“I was really stressed out about my own stuff, too, and I let my anger get the best of me. So, I’m sorry.”

Her expression changed, and though she looked like she was already prepared to forgive you, she didn’t quite say it yet.

“Is that really how you feel about me?” she muttered. “Like you’re my babysitter? Am I just a burden to you?”

A burden. It was such a heavy word, you knew it couldn’t be correct. Still, how could you explain to her that you were the problem in this situation? Worrying yourself with details about her that she didn’t even ask you to worry about, wearing yourself down without ever bothering to tell her, then snapping when it all became too much. 

It was an issue entirely of your own creation. She’d have to be as stupid and maladjusted as you to understand.

“No,” you said firmly. “You’re my friend, of course I wanna help you.”

“…But?”

“But…” you bit your lower lip. “Sometimes it feels like you just expect me to do things for you. Like, you don’t care about what I have going on as long as I can be there for you.”

You couldn’t explain why you felt near physically ill. You’d known this girl for three years, been friends with her for two, and spent practically every day with her for one. So why did being upfront with her seem like the most terrifying thing in the world? Like you were exposing yourself to a predator, completely vulnerable if she chose to swoop out and attack.

"Of course I—" Just as you braced yourself for another burst of indignation, Iseul forced herself to bite back her words, a rare display of her common sense trumping her impulsivity. She swallowed. "Oh. Okay."

“I’m always gonna want to help you,” you explained softly. “So, sometimes, I just need you to care enough about me to make sure that I can.”

You could tell she still felt wronged, and maybe, she had all the reason to. The way you’d gone about it was less than ideal. All that care you’d always tried to treat her with, nullified in a matter of seconds, just like that.

“I guess I just never thought of you as the type of person who’d need anything like that.” She picked at the skin around her nails. “But sure, okay. I’ll try.”

You leaned back against the cushions, exhaling. It seemed unreal to you, all things considered, that you’d reached this point. That telling her what you’d kept buried in your heart for so long could have ended in anything other than disaster. 

“Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

Iseul turned her attention back to her laptop, high-strung as ever as she scanned over her paper once more. A thought seemed to cross her mind, and when she spoke up again, you could tell she was doing her best to sound casual.

“Are you gonna go back to Chan, now?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“No.”

“You can go,” she mumbled. “I get that you’re like, in love with him, or whatever.”

The sting was back in your eyes. The pounding was back in your head. The chill was back in your skin.

“Chan and I aren’t together anymore.”

“O-oh.” 

Then, more troubled. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I…I didn’t know.”

You straightened yourself up, forcing a feeble smile.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Iseul frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m tired.”

“We'll talk later though, right?”

A lump rose in your throat. You could only bring yourself to nod.

For the next hour, you sat, unmoving, as the sound of Iseul’s rapid typing and frustrated huffs filled the room. Once she’d made the finishing touches to her paper, she submitted it with plenty of time to spare, lifting the weight off both of your chests. You sank your head back against the cushions just as she shut her laptop, a sigh of pure relief easing her nerves and yours.

Through her window, you could see that the sky outside was still blocked out by the low-hanging clouds, but even so, the world grew a bit brighter as day began to break and the sun began to inch its way up behind them. Iseul rested her head on your shoulder, and you at last allowed yourself to succumb to the fatigue that had been gripping your body for the past two days.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

When Chan's eyes blinked open, he wondered, faintly, if he’d been drifting off. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. Exhaustion consumed him so perpetually these days, not even standing upright could prevent his head from hanging and his eyelids from drooping. He adjusted his vision to take in his surroundings—kitchen, he realized for the first time—but the fuzz in his mind didn’t clear. That was nothing new, either. It hadn’t left him since you had.

He hadn’t slept in three days, not for more than just twenty or thirty minutes at a time. Not even enough to complete a single sleep cycle. Not even enough to dream.

He’d been kept awake by thoughts of you before, more than he’d ever be confident enough to admit out loud. But it was different now. He used to be perfectly content lying wide awake, staring at his ceiling with the giddiest of smiles plastered on his face over the mere memory of you. It had been better than any dream his mind could conjure up. Now, he wished, more than anything, to drift off instead. At least that way, he could be in a state where he didn’t have to think at all. Or maybe, if he was lucky, a state where he could dream of you, to pretend like you were still here with him.

The shattering of glass snapped him out of his thoughts all at once. With a start, he registered that he’d dropped the cup of water he was holding.

He stared blankly at broken shards, scattered amidst the puddle spreading across the wooden floor. He should probably clean it up. The remains could hurt someone.

He sank down to collect the pieces. Changbin liked this cup, he remembered suddenly. He’d gotten it on vacation. He was probably going to be upset. 

An unexpectedly sharp sliver of glass grazed Chan’s thumb, cutting it open and earning a slight hiss from him. He winced, dropping the fragments he’d gathered in his palm.

Blood began to bubble up on the surface of his skin, and he brought the injured finger to his lips. 

“Good job, Chan,” he mumbled, unsure of why his eyes were starting to sting. “You’re a good boy.”

The words didn’t calm him down like they typically would. In fact, they had the opposite effect. He didn’t want to hear himself say them. He wanted—

He curled into himself, shrinking under his clothes and barely managing to keep his balance as a sob racked his body. He pressed the wound closer to his lips, trying to get it to stop bleeding. But the blood kept flowing, and so did his tears.

He didn’t even process the sound of the front door unlocking, or the approaching footsteps that followed. A familiar pair of green sneakers shuffled into his blurred field of view. Chan lifted his head, tears falling freely as he met Minho's deep stare.

He looked concerned, but not surprised. Not in the slightest.

“What happened?”

Chan kept his thumb to his mouth, chest aching from the cries he was so desperately trying to hold in. 

“I’m okay,” he choked out. “Just c-cut my finger.”

Minho crouched down, coming face to face with the older boy. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Chan held out his hand, placing it in Minho's waiting palm. Minho gave a light click of his tongue, as if unimpressed by the injury. 

“It doesn’t look that deep.”

Chan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing a fresh wave of tears down his cheeks, hot and suffocating. “Feels like it.”

Minho hummed, half-sympathetic. But it was soft. The same way Chan would hear him murmur to his cats back home. He let go of Chan's hand, lifting his gaze to look him straight in the eyes, unfazed by how red and swollen they were.

“What did she do?”

Chan sucked in a shaky breath, nowhere near ready to talk. Minho waited for a few moments, then rose from his spot, opening the medical cabinet to find something to treat him with. He turned his back to sift through their sparse first aid materials, and the absence of his scrutiny was enough for Chan to muster up enough courage to answer.

“She left,” he managed to gasp. “Think it’s over.”

Minho said nothing.

“A-and, please, before you say you told me so…it’s not the same.”

Through the soft hiccups and shallow pants that filled the room, a sigh met Chan’s ears. 

“I got tired of telling you that a long time ago,” Minho replied. “And it never made me happy to be right, for the record.” 

He lowered himself to Chan’s level again, ripping open the antibiotic packet he’d retrieved and pressing the alcoholic wipe delicately to the cut. Chan tried not to pull his hand away as the harsh burn rippled through his skin.

Once the wound was thoroughly cleaned, Minho put the bloodied wipe to the side and wrapped Chan’s thumb carefully with a bandaid. Chan tried to rasp out a thank you, but it only came out as another pathetic sound. He never felt more pathetic than when he cried in front of Minho. Minho, who he was supposed to be strong for. Minho, who, even at his lowest, only betrayed his heartache before others with a subtle twitch of his lips or a few rapid blinks, shooing his tears away for later.

Minho redirected his attention from the now patched-up injury, stone face softening when he caught the uncontrollable shake in Chan’s shoulders.

“It’s okay.” He rested his hand on Chan’s back. “You’re okay.”

Chan took a deep breath, scolding himself, berating himself, screaming at himself to get it together. To stop being so fucking pathetic. He’d cried so much already, cried until his head throbbed and his lungs ached. He was surprised he had any tears left in his system to begin with. Minho’s voice was gentle, but Chan knew what he must be thinking. He knew the frustration, the judgment, the disappointment that must be boiling beneath his composed visage.

“I c-can’t—” he swallowed down another gasp. “Can’t be okay without her.”

“You can,” Minho said simply. “You’ve been okay before, you will be again.”

“Really hurts.”

“I know.”

“Feels…” Chan touched his index finger to his thumb, running it along the smooth texture of the bandaid. He pressed down, just hard enough to draw out the light pain. “Feels like I lost a part of myself.”

Minho frowned, hand pausing its rhythmic movements along Chan's trembling back. He stayed quiet for several heartbeats, letting the weight of the admission fully sink in.

“Tell me everything.”

[tizeline]

Asking some writers/artists I follow:

Is there anything in your fic/comic that you as the author know about, but won't end up in the actual story?

So I have a rather uh disorganized way of telling the story of the TSAU, I jump back and forth in the timeline quite a bit depending on what part of the story I wanna tell. Overall I improvise quite a bit, and because of that I can't be 100% sure what will be depicted in the story and what wont. But I might as well share some little tidbits of lore that are probably not gonna be mentioned in the main story (though they still might who knows lol)

So uh. April and Kendra are exes. Kinda. They were pretty close friends when they were younger and decided to become a couple when they were like 9 or something. This lasted for a grand total of.... 2 days, maybe? Then they had a huge fight about something silly like, I dunno, Kendra hacked April's tamagotchi as a prank and she got mad so they broke up and they've had major beef ever since.

Draxum made Mikey wear some type of artifact or gear that supressed his mystic powers as a kid for his own safety. Mikey started showing an incredible talent for the mystic arts at a very young age. Draxum was excited about this for all of 5 seconds before realizing that Mikey is a VERY small child with NO impulse control and he's definetily gonna turn himself and the rest of the family into glitter unless Draxum finds a way prevent that from happening until Mikey has the chance to develop an understanding of consequences. (He's learned to control his powers well enough to not need them by the time of the main-story, so he no longer wears the supressors)

Donnie's whole villain-act he puts on is partially a coping mechanism. He grew up never knowing anyone like himself (unless you count Splinter, I suppose) so the only times he saw himself represented in anything was characters in comics and shows and such. There were plenty of anthropomorphic reptile characters in the media he consumed, and Donnie clunged to anyone or anything that he could at least somewhat relate to. Problem is, a lot of these anthro reptiles were like.... y'know... villains. It's pretty common for super heroes and stuff to fight evil mutant reptile creatures, and even stories with only anthro characters reptiles tend to be charactarized as more villainous. Granted, turtles specifically usually don't get this treatment, but it still had quite an effect on Donnie as a little kid that most characters similar to him would be viewed as evil, which caused him to internalize that mindset. So turtle tot Donnie basically went like "Yes! This is what I am! A villain in someone else's story! It all makes sense now! This is a healthy mindset to have!" and just kinda embraced the role that human society had given to him because he didn't really know how else to deal. (Things changed after meeting April and he found out that there might actually be humans out there who might treat him like a person and not just a freak of nature! He still plays into the villain-persona, partially for fun and partially as a coping thing, but he doesn't have nearly as a negative view of himself now as he did as a tot)

And last, but certainly not least................ Draxum owns a Lou Jitsu body pillow (PURELY for research-purposes, NO other reason!)

[yorshie]

Dunno if you still take requests. But maybe for when you feel like it? (No pressure tho. You can totally ignore this if it isn't up you alley.)

How do them turtle dudes like to romance their honeys? Like who uses strategy (badly)? Who goes with the flow (also badly)? Who just blurts it out the first moment they realize what they're feeling (so SO badly)? And who just buries it behind heaps and heaps of repression (the absolute worst)?

And what about after being assured that their feelings are reciprocated? Is there a change in behavior or demeanor?

🧁

Cupcake Nonnie, I am so sorry. I have no excuse. I have no idea why this was so hard to write, or why it took so long.

I decided two birds one stone sort of thing with this one, a blurb about how exactly starting a relationship with each turtle might go, followed with headcanon style of what they would expect out of a relationship, how it would progress, and how a good relationship would affect them.

As always set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25, SFW

Michelangelo

By the time Michelangelo asked you to be his girlfriend, you low key thought you’d already been going steady for about a month. The turtle shows up like clockwork every Friday at your place, with a pizza and a soda, and the two of you stay up late watching movies while cuddling on the couch. Several times, you’ve woken to him stealing a hug or a nuzzle before leaving before the sun’s up. 

So when he turns from the movie unexpectedly one night, the last item on your ‘what is Angelo about to ask me’ bingo card was a sheepish:

“Hey, babes, would you- will you be my girlfriend?”

You stared at him for a whole scene, taking in those baby blues, before you blurted out your own question. “I thought I already was?”

“Oh. Ok. Cool.” And he grinned like it was nothing, turning back to the tv, leaving you still staring at the side of his head like he’d turn back around with a ‘gotcha’. 

Needless to say, you didn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. Mikey, to his credit, picked up on your mood during the credits, and you had a long conversation over what exactly the two of you wanted to be to the other.

Mikey’s love language is physical touch and quality time spent together

Angelo loves PDA. Soft kisses and nuzzles, hugs, you name it, he’ll try and get away with it. One of his favorite things to do, because he’s a little shit, is to see how many innuendos he can fit into a conversation while still maintaining decency, just to make you turn red and his brothers sigh in exasperation. 

Lowkey though, he doesn’t expect much from you other than your affection, and doesn’t have an overarching game plan. Sure, he celebrates anniversaries, but all the big milestones are simply tackled without him making a big deal out of them. One day you’ll just look up, realize you can’t tell where his stuff ends and yours begins, and have to come to terms with the fact that somehow the two of you are living together with no conversation about it happening.

Sunshine turtle approaches romance the same way he approaches life, with the firm belief that fun is the most important factor. Get ready for movie dates, late night parkour trips, canoodling on rooftops, etc. Just as often though, he will want to stay in. He’ll cook for you, cuddle while you while playing video games or watching a movie, include you in schemes and plans to drive his brothers crazy, anything to include you in his life or show off your bond to others. 

There isn’t a big difference to Mikey’s behavior after he knows you’re into him, though now when he gets in your space he doesn’t hold back from touching you. Turtle was a flirt beforehand, he’s a flirt afterwards. The only difference is, now when he says something you know eventually he will get around to trying it. He says something flirtatious that gets a reaction? He’s not gonna forget, and he’ll bring it up at a later date. 

He will stop flirting with everything that walks by eventually however. Guess calling you babes/babycakes/angelcakes in private had some spillover connotations (ie he can’t say it without thinking about you and it makes him gag trying to say it to anyone not you)

Donatello

Donnie’s blurted out his feelings for you in the middle of the Lair during Sunday Football. You’d arrived to find the turtles acting weird, leaving the room whenever you entered to grab snacks, suddenly making excuses and disappearing so every time you were left with an increasingly nervous Donnie who seemed to trail you around the Lair. By the time kick off happened, Raph, who seemed increasingly edgy, asked you to bring him another beer from the kitchen. You readily agreed, but when you turned from the fridge with the cold can Donnie blocked the way back to the others.

“Hey Don. You ok?” You asked, giving him a smile, craning your head back to meet his wide eyes.

“I like you.” He blurted out, practically looming over you.

You tilted your head, fighting the blush, convincing yourself not to read too much into it. “I like you to, Dee.” 

When you went to move around him though, thinking the moment was over, he caught your hand, grip slightly sweaty. “No, I mean…” He waited for you to meet his eyes again, and he visibly swallowed. “I- I like you.”

You eyes widened, a second before your smile followed. “Oh! Dee…” You set the beer to the side, covered his hand with your own. “I like you too.”

His answering smile lit up the whole room.

Donnie’s love language is gift giving and quality time. 

This turtle wants affection, but he doesn’t always know how to ask for it. You’ll have to pick up on his little cues to catch what he wants. Such as, if you notice him standing over you for periods of time before moving off and then returning, he might want to cuddle, and is just working up to asking for it. If you want things to go smoothly between the two of you, it’d be prudent to make a list of things you’re comfortable with and things you aren’t. It’ll stop him from worrying over things like hand holding and kisses, if he knows you’ll welcome his advances, and it’ll save you some headache trying to parse out what his nonverbal cues are if he is given free reign to just tell you what he would like. 

Dee’s idea of romance is to spend time with you, in whatever way you’ll let him. If you want to park your butt and watch him tinker in his lab or the garage, this turtle is all for it. If you mention there’s a play you want to see or a museum you’d like to go to, he’s already scheming on how to get the two of you in. The turtle disguise doesn’t work as well on him since he’s so tall, but he can sit in the very back and turn into a ninja statue just for you. 

He makes gadgets for you to stay in touch when you’re not with him, and readily goes into tangents about things you’ve said or done, or projects he’s working on for you. His brothers have learned to tune him out to various success. 

As far as changes after the two of you start a relationship, it’s easy to say that that it’s leverage over him and his habits. If he needs to eat, sleep, or just get away from his computer’s before the blue screen fries his brain, his brothers send in you. He gets in a snippy mood and clearly needs a night out or a break, you’re the only one that can convince him to go. Ooo, feel the power.

With you in his corner, Donnie blooms. Yes, he’s a genius and a sarcastic little shit beforehand, but now he has a cheerleader, a partner in crime, someone to fuel his crazy schemes and to be his rubber ducky on occasion. Anytime any old doubt trickles in, he only has to turn to you and be reminded that someone is always there for him, through thick and thin.

Raphael

You ended up confessing your feelings for Raph long before he’d gotten the courage to say anything. He probably would have continued to ignore his feelings, if you hadn’t cornered him in his weight room and spelled it out, angry that he’d been successfully giving you the cold shoulder for weeks.

“Hey, you wanna tell me what I did wrong, or are you gonna go sulk in the corner?” You asked, arms crossed and hip cocked, blocking the entrance to the weight room.

“M’not sulking.” Came the instant reply, though Raph didn’t turn to address you directly. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Leo said I could find you here.” You narrowed your eyes as he rolled his.

“Course he did, stickin’ his nose into-”

“Your brother isn’t my concern, you are.”

“Yeah?” He grumbled, still not looking at you, moving to rack up the manhole covers on his bar. “Why’s that, princess?”

Normally, that nickname made you feel special. Now, it pissed you off. Made you stupidly, sarcastically honest. “It’s probably because I’m not into him, I’m into you, dum dum.”

The weights clanked loudly together, and he turned just his head, glared at you. “Oh, real funny. Don’t go jokin’ about that.”

“I’m hilarious.” You answered. “And I’m 100 percent serious, Raphael.”

He turned to face you fully, head cocked, eyes slowly going from defensive to wide the longer you stood your ground. “You serious?”

You nodded emphatically, and he snorted, ran his hand over his face. “Damn. That’s fucked, babygirl.”

“It is not!” You started angry, but the wide smile on his face broke you out of the emotion.

Raph’s love language is verbal affirmation and physical touch

Yea this turtle can’t decide which is worse, telling you how he feels or seeing his large hands next to your small ones. But he so desperately wants to find the words, so desperately wants to ask you to hold his hand. Expect for him to start coveting private moments with you. He’ll agonize over what to say, what to do. You’ll have to lead the way most of the time, at least at the beginning, until he gets over waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to change your mind about him and all the issues that come along with him. 

Date nights with him are simple. He doesn’t like people, doesn’t like to be out of his comfort zone. He’d rather stay in with you, or up on the roofs where no one can see the two of you. He is very aware of how he is different from a human though, and so he will go out of his way to make sure he can bring normal things to the relationship. His gut instinct is to turn down anything new immediately, but all you have to do is pull out the goo goo eyes and he will bend. He wants to be helpful as possible to you to make up for the things he can’t do, and it’s up to you to make sure he understands how appreciated he is.

He loves to hear you voice your feelings for him, but he won’t outright ask for confirmation. Expect quiet moments where the two of you simply exist in the same space, or maybe cuddling while talking. Raph doesn’t like to be reminded of how different the two of you are though, so you might spend some time reassuring him that you love him, without telling him you don’t care about how different he is, because he will not believe you, or worse will get upset.

The differences in Raph are a long way down the line. At first, he might be even a little more standoffish, doubt and worry overtaking his usual responses. You’ll have to be dedicated to get anywhere past the initial ‘there’s no way this is gonna work, we’re both crazy for thinking this would work, you’re crazy for liking me, and I’m crazy for listening’ phase that will grip him hard. If you can weasel past that, however, be prepared to have someone that will never give up on you, ever. You’ll have a significant other that will come to your aid at the drop of a pin, at the first sign of trouble. 

He’ll mellow out over time, become a little softer around the edges and a little less ‘the world is out to get me and mine’. He might even tolerate his brothers’ teasings over the two of you, as long as they do it where you can’t hear, trading huffs and denial for small smiles and easy laughter at their pointed questions.

Leonardo

You found Leo waiting at your window, the same way you’d found him countless times. This time however, when you let him in, you were concerned at his formal movements. He was always careful, but now he was watching you as though waiting for something.

“Hey, Blue?” You asked, moving automatically to start tea, the way you had every time he came to visit. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” He answered, and you could tell it was a knee jerk reaction, but you let it slide.

“M’kay, well, I was just about to start dinner? How does that sweet chicken with the rice I made last month sound?” You asked, already knowing his answer, moving to grab the ingredients.

He surprised you by moving into your space, catching your hand. “Can we talk, for a moment, first?” 

You turned to give him your attention, careful to keep your movements slow as you took his hand. “Sure. Of course.”

Leo stood there for a moment, petting his thumb over the back of your hand, before he took a deep breath. “Stop me if I’m overstepping, but I need to speak my mind.” 

At your nod, he continued. “I like you, more than a friend, more than I should. I wanted- wondered, that is, if you could feel the same for me?”

If he had lifted his head at all, he would have seen your answer in the high wattage smile plastered across your face.

Leo’s love language is verbal affirmation and quality time spent together

This turtle has thought of everything. He’s intimately turned his feelings for you over and over in his mind, viewed them from every angle to inspect for marks or imperfections before he even accepts how he feels for you. Once he’s accepted them, get ready for slow burn romance. He has a sequence of steps the two of you must dance through in his head, and if you try and skip any steps he will want to backtrack to correct it. You want to hold hands for the first time and share a first kiss? He’s not going to turn down smooches, but he might not even notice you are posed for one, considering he’s too busy marveling at the feel of your much smaller hand in his.

Dates are simple things, he’s too paranoid to sneak into movies like Donnie or Mikey, instead he’ll go for walks with you, try and spot stars with you through the light pollution. If you want to do nothing but watch movies and lay against him, he’s in heaven, but he absolutely loves to hear you read from books out loud to him.

Expect lots of talks with Leo, but it’s less about sharing information and more he just wants to hear your voice, turn his brain off and simply exist for a moment where no one expects anything from him. Not to say he doesn’t listen, and not to say what you tell him isn’t important, but its calming to listen to simple workplace gossip after dealing with crime fighting and high stakes espionage. On the flip side, there will be times when he comes to you clearly lost in his head. In those instances, he just wants to be reminded that you care for him, that you’re by his side, that you willingly chose to be with him.

Most of the changes with Leo are the two of you are together happen privately, after all he is a very private person. The others don’t get to see him unravel, set aside everything bothering him. The first time you realized you cracked the code, is when Leo told you something that was bothering him, without getting defensive. Like he knew even if you disagreed with him there would be no judgement. After that, the two of you were inseparable. 

The only outwards change, that everyone picks up on, is his sense of humor. Before, it only came out in high stress situations, during fights, one-liners to goad others into making mistakes. But after meeting you, it morphs into quiet, humorous observations. The first time he dropped a joke in the middle of dinner just to make you snort into your soup, his brothers froze, wondering what the hell was happening. Raph legit asked Donnie if body snatching was a thing and if they needed to quarantine Leo. 

[mixsethaddams]

Some trans Eddie soft Steddie pre-relationship fluff for your Sunday. Modern au, college-aged, no kids, no upside down. Warning for blood and periods. Enjoy.

Blood pooled underneath Eddie where he sat.

His mind was working a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to get out of here.

Everyone else around him seemed blissfully unaware of his predicament. No one knew he was staining Steve Harrington’s mother’s white fucking couch a shiny crimson just by existing on top of it.

Eddie’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t move. Of course not. No one knew. He wasn’t out. He had to leave though, he had to figure out a way to run straight through the door without drawing attention to himself and never come back. And he had to do it fast, too, because if the sticky feeling between his legs was anything to go by, the leak would soon creep out from under him and then everyone would be able to see.

Eddie’s eyes started to sting. How could he have been so stupid? All it would have taken was a quick glance at the calendar but nooooo. He read online that six months of treatments would stop his period so he stopped even marking it. Idiot.

“Hey man, you ok?”

Fuck.

Steve was standing in front of him, looking genuinely concerned.

“I, uh, yeah, just…”

Eddie stuttered as he tried to think of an excuse as to why he was the only one left in the living room when everyone else had long since moved to the kitchen.

Steve’s brow furrowed and his eyes trailed down to the fabric of the seat. His eyebrows raised and nononono fuck no.

“Is that-?”

“Steve I can explain I-“

“Don’t move, okay?” said Steve gently. “Just stay there,”

“What?”

“Everybody out,” Steve yelled, walking back to the kitchen. “Someone broke a vase, no second chances, everybody out!”

Eddie watched as the rest of the party goers quickly vacated the house. Steve’s parents were famous for flying off the handle if something got so much as scratched after Steve had friends over, so no one wanted to hang around to get the blame pinned on them.

People shot glances through the living room door at Eddie as they left. Some laughed, some gave looks of sympathy. They all assumed he was the one who broke the non-existant vase.

When everyone was gone, Steve returned to the living room. He was holding a damp towel in one hand and a pair of shorts in the other. He took a small package out of his pocket and handed it to Eddie.

“Dunno if you can use it though, I know some people don’t like them… Robin leaves a stash here so thats all I have, sorry,”

Eddie stared at the tampon in his hand.

“You can change in the bathroom, I’ll wash your stuff for you,” said Steve, holding out the other items for Eddie to take. “You were planning on staying over with everyone else after the party, right?”

Eddie nodded, dumbfounded and still sitting on the wet seat.

“Cool, there’ll be time for it to dry overnight too then,” said Steve, stepping back so Eddie could stand. “There’s still a ton of pizza in the kitchen. Wanna watch a movie?”

Steve waited expectantly for Eddie to answer, his expression open and light. Eddie wasn’t sure what to do, or say.

“Yeah, uh, I guess?” he said after a pause. “I can just go though, you don’t need to like, do anything for me. I think I ruined your party, right?”

Steve scoffed.

“Ten people who were only here for free beer doesn’t exactly scream best friday night ever,” said Steve. “Eating pizza in peace with a movie sounds way better,”

Eddie clutched the wet towel and shorts. He and Steve were barely friends. Their social circles overlapped in certain places. Met a few times on campus, flirted at the bar, almost kissed one night before Eddie pulled away, too afraid of what might happen if he didn’t.

“We should probably watch it in the other room though,” added Steve, teasing gently.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie rushed to say. “I didn’t mean to… I’ll pay for it to be cleaned I swear,”

Steve waved a hand.

“I’ll tell my parents I had a nosebleed, it’s fine,” said Steve easily. “Go change, I’ll be in the kitchen,”

Eddie hesitated.

“Why are you being so nice about this?” he asked quietly.

Steve just shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Steve airily. “I mean it, people get periods, doesn’t bother me. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it,”

Eddie bit his lip, his eyes threatening him with tears again.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said, holding in a sob.

“No problem, man,” said Steve with another shrug.

Eddie started to make his way towards the bathroom as Steve returned to the kitchen.

“Oh, Eddie?” called Steve. Eddie turned and seen him standing with his hands in his back pockets. “Is it… Is it cool if I keep flirting with you though?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“You can say no!” Steve hurried to add. “Totally okay if you do, nothing’s changed, pizza and a movie are still like, totally happening, just wanted to ask,”

Eddie couldn’t help but let a small smile break out.

“You can do that,” said Eddie shyly.

“Cool, cool,” said Steve, rocking onto his heels. “I was, hah, I was kind of planning on trying to kiss you tonight too, you know, since we didn’t at the bar that time, but uh, if you don’t want that either then-“

“You can do that too,” said Eddie, cutting him off. “If you’re, you know, cool about… everything…”

Steve’s smile grew wider.

“Cool,” repeated Steve.

[tokkias]

the things we do under the blanket of nightfall ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: Natsu grapples with his feelings of the aftermath of the war in the only way he knows how—between the sheets in tangled limbs with the only one who can bring him true comfort. ao3

based on this ask from @bearandbirdfan and a reply from @dontpercieveme13

The sound of someone fiddling with the front door lock should have sent Lucy into a panic. She should have been scared of what was on the other side of that door and what their intentions were. Perhaps not too long ago she would have been, but the struggle with the lock, the subsequent squeak of the door hinge, and the sound of the door being locked behind them had become all too familiar to Lucy in recent days, so she knows there’s little to fear.

It comes at around the same time every night, right after she goes to sleep—or, at least, when her intruder thinks she’s asleep. Sleep hadn’t come too easily to her in recent days, and how could it? There's a lot on her mind in the aftermath of the war, and she finds it difficult to turn off at the end of the night. On some nights where she does find herself falling into sleep, it doesn't last long before she's gripped by the night terrors and haunting memories of the threat of losing the very person who finds himself walking through that door, night after night, when he thinks she doesn’t know any better.

“Hey Lucy,” he murmurs.

Natsu’s voice is soft when he speaks to her, in a way she isn’t sure she's ever heard outside of his gentle break-ins.

She doesn’t reply to him—never does—it’s all part of this little routine they have. He lets himself in with the key Lucy pretends to not know he has, and she fakes being asleep. There isn’t a real reason why she does this, mostly just a stream of half-baked excuses. Maybe part of her fears that if he knew she knew what he was doing, he would stop—that he wouldn’t come by every night, that he wouldn’t talk to her when he thought she wasn’t listening, that he wouldn’t crawl into the spot of the bed that she has mentally designated as his.

“Sorry,” he continues in a mumble, but Lucy isn’t quite sure what for.

Natsu doesn’t apologise for the things he should be sorry for, and right now there's nothing she feels warranting it. Still, she stays quiet, letting her thoughts stay just as they were—thoughts—and hoping that perhaps he might choose to elaborate.

“I know you don’t like it when I get in bed with you, but…” He trails off for a moment, and Lucy has to hold herself back from correcting him. Maybe in years gone by she was vocal about her distaste for it, but now it brings with it a sense of comfort that is completely unparalleled by anything she’s felt before. “I dunno; I missed you, I guess.”

I missed you too, is what she wants to say, but instead she simply squeezes her hands together by her chest to mimic the way his words make her heart feel.

It isn’t exactly rational on either end. They had seen each other mere hours ago; there was no reason to be missing one another when they’d only just parted, but feelings like this are never rational, she supposes.

“Sometimes I just get all in my head, and I just gotta make sure that you’re still okay,” he breathes.

Somewhere in his voice, there hides a sense of apprehension, as though this isn’t something he felt comfortable saying to her face. It makes her feel a little guilty for deceiving him like this. She never truly knew if he believed she was asleep or not—she wonders if he has come to memorise the way her breathing patterns differ between when she's awake and when she's asleep. She can’t put it past him. Despite what people might think, Natsu is observant, and he’d certainly spent enough time laying in bed next to her to have picked up the change.

Whether he does or doesn’t, the thought dies in her mind when he speaks up again.

“I’m really glad that you’re safe, Lucy.”

There isn’t any reason she wouldn’t be, but she knows that he doesn’t need a reason to worry. All the trauma, the loss, the heartache—that is all reason enough.

He thought she had died. He had held what he had assumed to be her lifeless body in his arms, and she isn’t sure she could even fathom what that must have been like to him.

They’d never talked about it—not directly, at least. He’d mentioned it to her on another night, just like this one, and he’d never brought it up with her again. She had never mentioned it out of fear that he would stop their little routine, so it simply stayed an open secret between them.

The newly familiar sound of him shedding his jacket, his scarf, his shoes, rings out, filling the otherwise silent room around them. He would place his jacket over the seat of her desk chair and his scarf over the headboard of her bed. Though she had never seen him do it, and they were often gone by the time she rose in the morning, she had caught a glimpse of it on nights she had to worm her way out of his grasp to totter to the bathroom.

The cool air of her room hits her exposed shoulders as Natsu pulls up the sheets to let himself crawl in with her. Any grievances she may have had about the cold are quickly dashed when she feels Natsu’s heat emanating from his body. His arm slips around her, and he pulls himself closer. Her back rests against his strong, hard chest, and she can practically hear the vibrations of his thumping heart beat through their proximity. He presses his nose into the back of her neck and nuzzles in close, making himself comfortable in proximity to her.

Though she knows it’s best to play into the ruse that they had kept up all those weeks, Lucy doesn’t stop herself when she feels her hands trailing down to rest atop his. As if by instinct, their fingers lace together, sitting comfortably against her stomach, slotting perfectly together as though their hands are made to hold one another.

If he notices she’s awake, he doesn’t mention it. It doesn’t change anything—he had already said what he said, and he had already wormed his way into his side of the bed, making himself comfortable with his Lucy in his arms. She’s always had an inkling that he knew—he can probably hear it in her breathing pattern, but like many things between them, it had gone unspoken in favour of letting things stay the way they were.

His nose brushes against the back of her neck, and the feeling of his warm breath against her skin made her shudder slightly before his words graze over her again.

“Goodnight, Lucy.”

A beat of silence befalls them as Lucy lay in quiet contemplation, her mind abuzz with all the things she wants to say but isn’t sure how to articulate, or better yet, if she even should. Her mind begins to calm as she feels his arms squeeze her tighter to his chest, just for a moment, and a wave of security washes over her.

Anything else can be addressed in the morning, should they choose to, but tonight she feels as though a little change in routine can’t hurt as she breathes out her response.

“Goodnight, Natsu.”

[em1e]

༝  you know, i really like you, but are you like . . y’know?

家入 // DYLTGIR ⠀ ༝ ༝ ieiri shoko ⠀ ༝ ༝ 1.8k words ⠀ ⚠︎ modern!au where everything is fine, no pronouns but implied fem!reader bc of the song, in their early 20’s? suggestive kinda maybe idk man i just work here, alcohol consumption ⠀ — shoko loves retelling how the two of you got together.

contrary to popular belief, shoko ieiri was a lightweight. 

as much as she likes to drink and smoke and brag about how she could outdrink any of the boys in front of you, she takes five shots back to back and you know you’ll be dragging her to bed with more effort than you’d like. 

but, she’s having fun, and so are her friends, so who are you to really be upset when she has a pretty flush to her cheeks and she’s giggling like a schoolgirl? 

“can ya tell the story of how you two met again?” gojo slurs out, leaning most of his weight on nanami, who just pushes him off with a scowl. gojo bounces from one shoulder to the next, into geto who welcomes him with a small smile. 

it’s childlike, the way he asks, like he’s begging for a bedtime story from his parents rather than the embarrassing retelling of what brought you and shoko together. 

your own cheeks are warm despite not touching a drop of alcohol, waving in front of you dismissively, “you already know the story, gojo, i dunno why you ask for it everytime you’re drunk.” 

“but geto doesn’t!” he shakes his friend by the shoulder as if to emphasize this, and you fear geto might puke from the sudden movement, “he wasn’t ‘round when you two met, ‘member?” 

you do, vividly remember how shoko would complain to you about gojo complaining to her about geto going on a ‘sudden spiritual journey and leaving them behind’, but you think maybe now isn't the time to bring it up. 

and shoko’s interest has been piqued enough to your current conversation that she draws away from nanami with a giggle, arm wrapping around your own as she leans forward. 

“you wanna know how we met?” 

“‘f’course,” geto slurs out, now leaning against gojo. if anyone knocks into the two, they’d both go down in a heaping pile of lanky limbs. 

“i don’t think-” you start, only to be shushed by gojo. 

“she’s gon’a tell my favorite part!” 

you roll your eyes, sending a pleading glance to nanami as if he’d ever have any amount of control over them, but he just shrugs and slides over the whiskey he’d been drinking. before you’re even able to touch the cup, shoko’s grabbing it and swinging it back into her mouth with a click of her tongue and a boop to your nose. 

“nuh uh, you’re drivin’, ‘member?” 

in your defense, you weren’t going to take a sip of the drink, but it still makes you pout how quickly she took it away. at least she’s distracted from the story –

“gojo ‘nd i were out drinking,” she starts, and you visibly deflate at the start of her recount. 

༝ ༝ 

shoko was honestly surprised she managed to convince gojo to come out after such a disastrous midterm she is sure they both butchered. she knows he’s been down since geto dipped and the untimely failure was surely not going to bring his spirits up, but what broke college student doesn’t love to get drunk on a weekend? especially when your best friend offers to pay? 

she thinks her offer is what really got him to come out, and he seems at least a little happy to be out of the house; not burrowed under five different blankets with a tub of melted ice cream at his side, flipping through the same four streaming services before ultimately doom scrolling on his phone. 

it’s a nice change, she thinks. 

and when he leaves for a second to get the pair of them another round of shots, she spots you. 

pretty, with your hair styled nicely out of your face with a hot form-fitting outfit that hugs you nicely. she’s surprised she isn’t drooling. you catch her eye, offer a meek smile and turn away just as gojo comes back with the shots. shoko’s eyes haven’t left you, though. 

gojo slides her the glass and she catches it without looking away, bringing the rim to her lips and tipping her head back until the liquid’s past her tongue, warmth spreading further through her body after it being her second (or third? how many had gojo passed her?) shot. 

“you like ‘em?” gojo asks after shooting back his own, wiping at his mouth and following his friend's  gaze. 

“‘s cute.” she comments, but gojo can see the heart-eyes forming in her iris. he grins. 

“i can go talk ‘em up for ya, if you want-” 

that pulls her attention from you quick, eyes snapping to meet his, “absolutely not.” 

“why not?” he straightens his shoulders as if he’s really considering going, “they are pretty cute. might have to talk to ‘em myself-” 

gojo moves to step away from the table they’d laid claim to but before he can fully maneuver his way around, he’s being pulled back by shoko, who narrows her eyes and fixes her own little black dress with a pointed finger, “you are not ruining this for me.” 

and she makes her way to where you were previously hovering, eyes scanning over every warm body until she finally spots you sitting alone, finger running around the rim of your glass as if you were bored out of your mind. 

shoko could fix that. surely, definitely could fix that. 

she slides into the seat across from you, smile already on her cheeks when your eyes shift from the glass to her. 

“hi,” she starts, glad the warmth from the alcohol is buzzing under her skin enough to give her the boost she needs to be friendlier than usual. a look to the side and she catches gojo’s  lingering stare, a smirk on his face as he cheers her on with a nod of his head, and it’s enough to spur her on further, “you here all alone?” 

you smile besides yourself, hiding it when you look down at your lap. your fingers still tap tap tap at the rim of your glass, “i’m not,” you offer, “my friends are on the dancefloor and ‘m not much of a dancer.” 

noted, shoko’s smile only seems to widen, “really? ‘m sure you dance just fine.” 

you wave a hand absentmindedly in front of you with a scrunch of your nose, “nope, not me. i’m just here for the booze.” 

“then let me buy you one?” shoko offers, eyes flitting to the cup you’d been nursing, “you don’t seem like a bourbon type to me. i’m thinking you’d like . . a strawberry daiquiri? or maybe a mojito? i can make a mean sex on the beach, too, if . . that’d be something you’re into?” 

the implication isn’t lost on you; leaves you pausing for a second as if in thought, opening your mouth to say something then thinking better of it before bringing the glass to your lips and tipping your head back, drinking the entirety of it in one go. 

shoko’s impressed at how you don’t cringe at the taste, head tilting as she waits for your reply to her offer. 

“you don’t recognize me, do you?” 

shoko can’t help the way her brows furrow at the question, head turning further as she scans over your face. sure, maybe you look familiar? you could be in her econ class, or even her physics class, both are at eight in the morning and she’s hardly alive at that point of the day – the bar’s so dimly lit, too, who is she to really say? 

“i can’t say i do,” she says finally, sitting up straighter, “should i?” 

you smile again, bashful and pretty as you lean forward but look away from her, gesturing for her to lean forward as well. shoko does so without hesitation, eyes on your lips when you bring your hand towards your face like you’re getting ready to spill a juicy secret. 

“we’ve met before,” you almost whisper the words, and shoko’s glad she knows how to read lips or she fears she wouldn't catch the way they leave your tongue, “we went on a date like last year.” 

you lean back, almost impressed with yourself at how she remains hovering forward, searching your face for any sign of it being a lie. 

then, she’s on damage control, “i would've remembered a date with someone as pretty as you.” 

another smile is on your lips, “i changed my style up a bit. s’okay if you don’t recognize me, especially in this lighting.” you half gesture up to the flickering neon lights hanging around the establishment. 

“well . . what if we tried it again? ‘m sure i could make it up to you with that strawberry daiquiri?” 

her offer is quite tempting, but still, you can’t help but tease, “we slept together, y’know? one night stand and you left before i even woke up.” 

you almost pout as you recount the night, and shoko’s brows cannot raise any higher on her face from surprise when you add, “especially when it was so good.” 

the sex? or the date? she wants to ask, but this hardly seems like the time when you’re looking at her the way you are. 

“well how ‘bout another chance? ‘m not above begging.” shoko thinks gojo has been rubbing off on her, because surely these words are not leaving her lips. you’re just so fucking pretty, how could she skip out on another potential chance? 

she holds her breath when you smile, head tilting as you think and think and think. 

“sure,” you say finally, with a shrug, “as long as i get that strawberry daiquiri?” 

shoko can’t stop the grin from forming on her face, looking over her shoulder to send a wink to gojo, who’s already into his own flirty conversation with some blonde. 

“let’s get outta here.”

༝ ༝ 

shoko’s full weight is pressed happily into your side when she finishes retelling the story, with gojo and geto in a fit of giggles across from the two of you, while nanami left in the middle of the story to get another round of drinks for the table. 

nanami makes it back just as the story concludes, and shoko’s quick to grab her next shot from the table as he sets the glasses down, swinging it back before she’s pressing into your side again with her head on your shoulder. 

“don’t act like you’re not happy you gave me ‘nother chance.” 

she leans up and messily presses a kiss to your cheek, and you can smell the alcohol she’d just drank on her tongue. tequila. nanami must hate you, because tequila means you’ll be sitting in the bath for an extra thirty minutes promising her you love her while she giggles (or pukes into the trash can you’ll need to pull beside the tub). 

“never said i’m not happy.” you assure her with a smile,  turning your head to press your lips to her own. 

she grins at the contact, cupping your cheek clumsily, and you think there’s no one you’d rather be with. 

[loonylupinblack3]

Jess Mariano x Reader

Pairing: Jess Mariano x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: it's cold outside and Jess helps you out

Word count: 1.1k

You’d been walking around town for a while now, the chilly night air starting to get to you. You rubbed your arms to get some semblance of warmth as you tried to think of what to do. You didn't want to go home, not with your mother bound to be there. After the vicious fight you two had, you had no longing to be anywhere near her, which unfortunately left you with no place to sleep tonight. You knew you should go back, you knew it would be the smart, reasonable thing to do, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it as you remembered the words your mother had spat at you as she stared at you with revulsion.

Of course you’d had fights with your mother before, but when she wanted she could be particularly cruel, and tonight she had certainly wanted to be cruel. She was pissed at you because you’d failed an important test at school, a failure she said had to do with a certain raven-haired boy currently residing above Luke’s diner. She believed that Jess was a bad influence on you and since you'd refused to stop hanging out with him, your mother sought other ways to convince you he was bad, namely blaming every single failure you had onto him. You were sick of defending him to your mother whenever you made a mistake, and so you had said some things you shouldn’t have, which caused the massive fight to implode, and here you were. Walking around Stars Hollow late on a Tuesday night with nowhere to sleep.

You were about to relent and go home, wondering if you’d be able to sneak into your second story window, when you heard someone call your name.

“Y/n.”

You looked up and found Jess leaning out of his window, staring at you with a slight smirk and smug expression.

“Jess?” you asked in disbelief.

His smirk widened “Y/n. Enjoy your walk?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Seen you walking around for a while. Cold night for a stroll, don’t you think?”

You let out a huff, crossing your arms as you stared at the boy you were so reluctantly fond of.

“Shut up,” you muttered, though you made sure you were loud enough for him to hear you.

“I’m guessing that means you don’t want to come in for a hot chocolate.”

Your head perked up as you stared at him. “Are you offering?”

Jess rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t very well say it if I wasn’t offering, would I?”

You grinned and walked up to the diner, crossing your arms to savour any warmth you might have while you waited for Jess to come downstairs. How slow could he be? Eventually you saw the diner light up and Jess walk towards the door, his stride leisurely despite the fact you were contracting hypothermia right that second.

Jess did open the door though, and as soon as he did you were inside, as far from the door as possible as you felt your whole body shiver in delight at the change of temperature. Maybe you wouldn’t contract hypothermia after all.

Jess snorted at your reaction and started making the hot chocolate while you trailed behind him, unused to being in the diner when everyone else was gone.

“Where’s Luke?” you asked, eyes darting around the place as if Luke would spawn there any moment.

Jess shrugged, his back to you as he stirred the hot chocolates. “Out at something. Can’t quite remember. He’s not gonna be back till later.”

You raised your eyebrows, checking your watch which said 11:45pm. “When exactly is later?”

Jess shrugged again. “I dunno. Later.”

You rolled your eyes but gratefully accepted the warm cup of hot chocolate he placed into your hands. You took a sip, burning your tongue slightly but you didn’t care. It was nice and warm and you were still so cold after spending most of the night outside with the snow in just a flimsy cardigan.

“You look cold,” Jess observed over his hot chocolate.

“You don’t say?”

Jess placed his mug on the counter. “I’m serious. How long were you out there?”

You checked your watch again. “I don’t know. A few hours? I left just after dinner so…”

Jess didn’t need to ask why. You’d complained enough about your mother that Jess knew when you had a fight it tended to be big, and staying outside while it snowed for hours was a pretty clear sign that whatever happened had been big.

Jess sighed. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Come on, I’ve got blankets upstairs.”

Jess took your hand and you complied, though you brought your hot chocolate with you. When you arrived in Luke and Jess’s tiny apartment, Jess led you to his bed where there were clothes, books, and most importantly, blankets scattered across the area.

You carefully placed you cup on a table and found one of Jess’s jumpers to put on, as well as not one, not two, but three blankets that you wrapped tightly around you. Still, you couldn’t stop the chills racking your body from all your time outside. Jess had sat next to you on his bed and was quietly watching you while you froze away, until he let out a frustrated sigh and tugged you towards him.

“What are you doing-“

You didn’t get to finish before Jess ripped you of every layer you had just wrapped yourself in – minus the jumper – and you squawked in outrage. Jess ignored you, rewrapping both of you in the cocoon of blankets and pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest.

“There,” he said. “Body heat.”

You rolled your eyes but nestled further into his embrace, feeling the delicious heat surround you. The two of you stayed there like that, holding on to one another, until you tilted your head to look up at him.

“Thank you,” you said. “For doing this.”

Jess raised an eyebrow. “Doing what, exactly?”

You shrugged. “Letting me stay over, keeping me warm, the hot chocolate.”

Jess looked at you silently before carefully brushing some hair away from your face. His hand stopped on your face, before a slow smile crept across his face.

“You’re all good,” he said quietly, tugging you closer to him.

You placed your head into the crook of his neck so he couldn’t see you smiling, and slowly, as you listened to the steady beat of Jess’s heart and felt some feeling come back to your fingers and toes, you drifted to sleep, wrapped up in Jess’s embrace.

[chirpingfromthebox]

I forgot to post about this back when it came out. But this was an interview with two prominent figures from the management side of the PWHL from a few days back. I was expecting it to be a bit dry, but they actually address quite a few prominent questions.

I was originally going to skip doing this one as it's somewhat long, but I've been seeing a number of things they talked about coming up in discussions here, so I thought y'all might be interested to hear what they have to say.

I'll transcribe what I personally found to be the most interesting elements that came up, but know I'll be cutting down some of the remarks and only doing some of the questions, so definitely watch the video for the full story.

Since this is already going to be a massive post I'll spare you my musings on the answers.

Transcriptions of some of the questions under the break.

At the table are Senior Vice President of Hockey Operations Jayna Hefford & Advisory Board Member Stan Kasten.

And I believe this was after Game 2 of the finals and before the start of Game 3.

For context on who these two are in a bigger picture, what little I know is:

Jayna Hefford is a HIGHLY successful and influential former Canadian hockey player who's been working in the field of women's hockey ever since she retired from playing. If I tried to sum up her career we'd be here all day, so let's just say she's in the Hockey Hall of Fame for a reason.

Stan Kasten comes from a background of running/managing large sports teams, though mostly baseball. He is even the current president of the Los Angeles Dodgers and also one of the co-owners. He seems to have had a brief foray into hockey as the president of the NHL's Atlanta Thrashers for a few years. The Thrashers no longer exist and I think they moved and became what are now the Jets? (I dunno, I shouldn't be your source for NHL history, that's for sure.)

--------------- INTRODUCTIONS ---------------

STAN KASTEN: I can’t describe the pleasure this is for me to be here [at the Xcel Energy Center in Minnesota]. The last time I was here I told you that I thought that day, the 13,000*, really convinced us that we were going to make this work.

[* the first home game for Minnesota had an attendance of 13,316.]

But even then I couldn’t have imagined how the year would play out. How we would set attendance records, sponsorship records, and viewing records. So our media strategy was a success. But of course the thing that made it work, really, was what I said opening day: we got the hockey right.

And that’s because of Jayna [Hefford] and her staff. You know, we didn’t know our playoffs ‘til after the last game on the last day. Who could have imagined that we’d put together a system that would've worked out that perfectly. You see how close and competitive the playoffs have been. And as exciting as this is for all of us, we can’t wait to get started on year 2, because we know with all Summer to prepare, it’s gonna be even better.

JAYNA HEFFORD: When we kicked off this league we had a few goals and—at least on the hockey side—one of them was to create parity across the league. And through the draft and the player dispersal, the player signings that we put in place, we were able to do that.

And to Stan’s point, I don’t think we could have wrote the script any better the way it played out and came down to the last game of the regular season to decide who was in the playoffs. We certainly achieved that.

Secondly, innovation and creativity was a priority for us. We wanted to find ways to improve the game. To make it more engaging for fans, to make it fun. We didn’t want to change hockey in the traditionalism of hockey, but we wanted to do things a little bit differently.

So implementing the Jailbreak rule, implementing the pick your own opponent, the Gold Plan*. All of those things are new. But I think right now, and of course we’re going to debrief post-season, but right now the response from all of those things has been overwhelmingly positive. So we will continue to try to be creative and think outside the box and present the game in new ways to people.

[* It didn’t come into play this season, so in case anyone isn’t familiar: The Gold Plan is the system by which after a team is out of contention for the playoffs during the regular season, any wins they get would be factored into where they’d be placed in the draft order for next season. It was designed to be an incentive for teams out of the running to still play their hardest and strive for wins.]

...

So excited to be here now for the next two or three games. And really it’s been a remarkable, amazing journey this last number of years, but really this last 8 or 9 months. And as Stan said, I don’t think I could have envisioned this playing out the way it did. The excitement around this, and the response from our fans, and response from media. So we’re just thrilled with where it’s at and I know this is gonna wrap up in a really great way in the next number of days.

...

--------------- LOOKING AHEAD, WHAT ARE THE CHANGES/CHALLENGES FOR NEXT YEAR? ---------------

STAN: We didn’t have our business staff in place until about 60 days before the season started. So we have a lot we can still do.

The most obvious one was merchandise. Having, you know, the amount of inventory that we needed was a challenge for us. Getting an online business started, in two countries, that was a challenge. So all these two country problems are different than other leagues.

By the end of the season we did really well on merchandise. But we have more coming and more designs and greater inventory. The one good thing is that we sold everything that we could make. I mean, it was just flying off the shelves when we could get it to arenas. And the online business has been strong also. Those things are challenging when they’re start-ups, and as I said, they’re start-ups in two countries, so we know how to do it now. It’s gonna get a lot better going forward.

JAYNA: And I think what everybody is waiting for is names and logos. So that’s one big thing that’s coming. So I think that’ll be really exciting to be able to build those brands and make those brands significant in the markets and communities we’re in.

STAN: It’s interesting how the name thing played out. We did not start out to do that, but because the lead time required in these things, we just thought it was better to just skip that for now and just go with: PWHL and the location.

And that has had an amazing unintended consequence of anytime anyone has talked about any of our teams all year, you had to say “PWHL.” So our league has gotten more exposure in the first year of its existence than any league in history ‘cause they kept repeating our name.

Again, we didn’t plan it that way; it just worked out that way. And it was about mid-season that I started hearing from fans and players, “You know, we kinda like the name the way it is.”

We’re gonna have team names. And I invite people to adopt those names too. But you can feel free to continue to call it what you’ve always called it. And we will be selling merchandise with both of those names. So these names aren’t going away because they have become popular. But for those of you who like team names, we’ll be addressing that as well.

...

JAYNA: ...Of course we feel like we have incredible talent on the ice every night now, but putting the best on the ice is about putting the best on the ice. And we know there’s a number of incoming players. So it will get more challenging. Good players will have a hard time making this league. But when you think about the product we’re gonna put on the ice? It’s gonna continue to get significantly better every single year as we welcome in newer and younger players. Then at some point we’ll look to add teams, when that depth of talent is at the right place in our minds. But right now it’s just exciting to look at all the new and fresh talent that’s going to step in.

--------------- WHAT CAN YOU DO TO IMPROVE DIVERSITY AND ATTRACT MORE BLACK FANS TO THE GAMES? ---------------

JAYNA: I think the first thing is representation. And we have some incredible athletes in our league that continue to be great role models, be active in their communities. And when you think of Sophie Jaques and Sarah Nurse and players that continue to give back and become something that young girls can look up to? I think all of our players do that for a lot of different communities of people.

And I think the one thing that’s really special about our league is- I feel it every game I’m at, it doesn’t matter what market we’re in, is that there’s a sense of inclusivity in our buildings. People are here and they’re excited and they’re happy and they feel welcome, regardless of who they are. And they feel free to be themselves. I’ve talked to many, many people that have never felt this way in a hockey rink. So we’ll continue to do that on the culture side.

I think what we want to do is continue to grow the game for young girls and I don’t think there’s any limits on who those young girls are. We want people to fall in love with the game. And I think we approach our business side and staffing side the same way. We want to bring people in who love the game and we want to bring people in that represent different communities.

--------------- WHAT ARE THE PLANS FOR NEW YORK TO POSSIBLY PLAY IN ONE VENUE INSTEAD OF THE THREE OR FOUR THEY USED THIS SEASON? ---------------

STAN: When the season is over we’re gonna review everything. Every city, every venue that we’re in, and we’re going to try to improve. We’re aware of the New York situation. It wasn’t ideal this year. But we’ll see what ways we can improve the situation. We’re not ready to say here today which way we’re going to go or what we’re going to do. But I can tell you that certainly one of the things we’re going to spend a lot of time looking at.

REPORTER: What do you guys think is the ideal venue situation?

STAN: The ideal venue situation is to play in the biggest NHL venue in every city. And merit playing there. We’re not always there yet in every market. But in big markets, as you might know, the big venues are there because there are a lot of events and a lot of teams in those cities. That gets into availabilities. We don’t want to be in a big venue, but have to play on a Tuesday morning, right? We wanna play on weekend nights or nights in general.

So it’s a complicated matrix of considerations that goes into where we choose to play, when we choose to play, what’s good for the team, what’s good for the visiting team, how we travel. It’s complicated.

It’s complicated with 6, it’ll be more complicated the bigger we grow and the more games we have. Those will be good problems, but we don’t ignore it. We’re thinking about all of it. And you saw in this year when we found an opportunity that we thought would work for our fans in cities where we could go to big venues, we did it. I would call them experiments and in general I’d say those experiments were all wildly successful.

--------------- WHEN CAN WE EXPECT NAMES AND LOGOS? ---------------

STAN: Sometime this Summer. I don’t have an exact time, but you should be counting the days.

--------------- HOW DID THE GATE RECEIPT REVENUE COMPARE TO WHAT YOU EXPECTED? ---------------

STAN: I will tell you that, yes, it exceeded what we thought we were going to- it exceeded our early projections. But that’s partially because we made the strategy decision to also greatly exceed our expected expenses.

Let me give you an example. You know how women’s hockey games have been broadcast in the past, right? Single camera from upstairs. It isn’t what we chose to do. We made the conscious choice to spend a lot of money to make it a major league professional broadcast. And I think all of you who watched our games would agree. That’s what we delivered. It was expensive. But we think it’s gonna pay off for us in the long run.

Additionally we didn’t hire three people and slowly build each franchise. We went right to 120 people by opening day and now we’re over 200 people. So that was a lot of expense that we didn’t expect right away, but we said, “you know what? We’re all in. So let’s do year 4 expenses in year 1.”

So yeah, and that resulted in a lot more revenue. And that’s why we think our decision to invest in the league, which is what I call expenses, was the right one. We’re on the right track. The investments we made are paying off.

--------------- WHAT CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT NEXT SEASON’S SCHEDULE, NUMBER OF GAMES, AND POSSIBLE NEUTRAL-SITE GAMES? ---------------

JAYNA: Well, in terms of number of games the league will go up to 30. And that’s in our CBA that 24 regular games in the inaugural season will move to a minimum of 30 next year. In terms of neutral site games, we do expect that there will be more of those next season. I don’t have a timeline for our schedule to be done yet, but we do expect more games, more neutral-site games next season.

--------------- WHAT WAS THE CONSENSUS ON THE OFFICIATING THIS SEASON IN THE LEAGUE? ---------------

JAYNA: I don’t know if you’ll ever get a collection of people that all agree on officiating in any sport, in any league. So we’re actually really happy with where we’re at.

We set out initially to find the best officials we could find. We worked closely with the NHL, the AHL, Hockey Canada, USA Hockey, to select the top officials. We obviously also adjusted the standard of play to this league. It’s not full body checking, but there is an increased level of physicality in the game. So I think we spent the early months of the season really trying to figure out where that line is and get people comfortable with it.

Now where we’re at I think players have figured it out to some extent. Of course not everyone’s going to agree on that. But the way I see the players playing the game now, and their awareness of positions they’re in, and to be ready for that physicality has changed. So, are we right there? We’re probably not right there yet. But we’re really happy with where we’re at, we think the officials have done an incredible job in the league this season.

--------------- ARE THERE PLANS FOR DRAFTED PLAYERS WHO MIGHT NOT MAKE THE PWHL ROSTERS? ---------------

JAYNA: I think trying to figure out what the right solution for that is in the short term is at the top of our list of things to do. You know, building one league in 9 months, but to build a whole ecosystem for hockey? It’s just not something that we can do right now. But we are thinking creatively around places that players could play if they don’t end up on our 23 or 26 player rosters next season. So it’s a bit of a work in progress. But in speaking to number of stakeholders there’s many many people that want to figure out a solution to this so that we can keep more women in playing the game at the highest level.

--------------- DO YOU LOOK AT THE LEAGUE AS A “WOMEN’S SPORTS” SUCCESS STORY OR HAS IT MOVED BEYOND THAT? ---------------

JAYNA: I think that we are very different from most men’s leagues. I think we’re very different than many women’s leagues. I’d like to see us stand on our own as a sports league. But in saying that I also believe that this time for women’s sports and the success of one feels like it’s a success for all. We’re all big fans and collaborate with folks in the WNBA and the NWSL, and it feels like we’re all working together to raise women’s sports. So I don’t know if that’s an appropriate answer, but I feel it’s a little of both.

--------------- HOW DO THE INVESTORS FEEL ABOUT THIS FIRST SEASON? ---------------

STAN: I have one investor, he is ecstatic.

...

--------------- WHAT IS THE POTENTIAL FOR DOING A BEST OF 7 GAMES SERIES IN THE FUTURE? ---------------

JAYNA: This is a little bit like getting asked about expansion 3 months in. Great question. Would I love to see a best of 7 series? We’re sitting here 1-1, you know of course I would. But I think we’re really excited about the format we have now. This is new for women’s hockey. Even the best players in the world who’ve won multiple Olympic gold medals have not played in a best of 5 series. I think we’re seeing that it’s challenging. There’s a lot of travel, there’s fatigue, the volume that they’re experiencing is huge

So I think we’re really good where we’re at right now. Somewhere along the line I could see us maybe expanding, but again, year 1? The two best of 5 series have been a really great format for us.

STAN: And that comes from someone who’s won 4 Olympic gold medals.

JAYNA: [laughing] I’ve never played in a best of 5 series either.

STAN: Exactly.

--------------- end of interview ---------------

[adidastain]

just like heaven

college matt stone x fem reader

warnings: smut (vaginal penetration)

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.), i really wanted to write something fluffy and kinda vanilla so sorry if it’s boring but i love it a lot i think it’s sweet

word count: 5240

—

Nothing was more relieving than getting in bed after a long day of classes and running errands. I’d been busting my ass the entire day, making sure everyone around me was happy and calm. It was what I did best, to be completely honest. I liked taking over. Sure, it made me kind of a bad collaborator, but I preferred to stay positive and think of it as one of my best qualities. Productive, stern, and leaderly. 

One of my classmates had a dorm to himself and had been letting me stay there for a while, since I lived off campus on paper, but didn’t have a car. We both majored in film; he double majored in math as well, and I was minoring in psychology. 

He was cool and funny. Sometimes he’d even say stuff that earned him a clock to the jaw, but regardless, I thought he was funny. And smart. He double majored; of course he was smart.

I sighed heavily, opening the heavy steel door to his dorm, labeled ‘MATT’ with a cute paper cutout of a kid wearing a ushanka and glasses showing a peace sign. It made me smile every time I saw it. His mind was so interesting.

To my surprise, the lights were on inside. He’d told me he was going to a little party in our other classmate’s building a few blocks away, so I didn’t think he’d be home.

“Oh, you’re here,” I said, taking my jacket off. 

“Unfortunately,” he said, grinning. His voice was deep and slightly nasally as always, with just a hint of raspiness. He sounded really tired. 

“What happened? I thought you were going to Trey’s party,” I said softly. I looked in the mirror on the back of the door, removing my hair clip and earrings. I didn’t want to waste any time getting to bed. 

“I just…” Matt swallowed, shifting in his seat in the beanbag on the floor. “I dunno. I changed my mind. Kinda exhausted.”

“I hear that,” I laughed, raising my eyebrows. There was some sort of old comedy movie on the little TV next to Matt’s bed. His whole dresser was covered in empty cans, dirty shot glasses with sticky syrup at the bottom, wrappers, deodorant, shit like that. I guess someone had been over and Matt was too tired to clean up the mess. “I’m gonna change real quick, don’t look.”

“Aw man,” he said, teasing me. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him, pulling my sweater and tank top over my head all at once. I’d been wearing a sports bra all day and the elastic was starting to dig into my skin. I looked behind me, just to make sure he wasn’t trying to sneak any glances. Not that there was much to see. 

Lo and behold, as soon as I turned my head, I caught his turning too, back towards the TV. 

I grabbed a discarded T-shirt off the floor and swung it at him, hitting him a lot more violently than I really intended to. “You are such a pervert!” I laughed.

“I wasn’t trying to look at you!” he shrieked. I hit him again. “I thought I heard someone at the door!”

“A pervert and a liar!” I accused. Matt stood up, trying to defend himself from my wrath as I exacted my revenge. He yelped and grabbed my wrists, pushing back against me. 

We play-fought like this often. He was a lot stronger than me. He may not have looked like it, being so slim, but he was fit underneath all that fabric he was drowning in. Especially his arms. We’d go on and on, until it felt awkward and drawn out. 

Of course, by doing this, I’d ended up giving him a free show anyway. He’d definitely seen me changing before. Matt had walked in on me on several occasions, but it was mostly my fault, since I would come and go in his dorm without saying anything. He didn’t seem to have a problem, though. 

I bit my lip, pushing against his weight with all my might. He pretty much towered over me and my hands were engulfed in his large ones. He probably wasn’t even using half of his strength on me. 

Suddenly, he let go of my hands, causing me to fall forward slightly. I lost my balance until I felt his arms wrap tightly around my torso, before he lifted me up and pushed me onto his bed and walked away. 

He giggled to himself as he stepped towards his little mini refrigerator to grab a can of soda. I felt slightly warm inside; something about the way he was able to just lift me up and throw me down so easily made my face burn up. 

Of course, Matt acted like it was nothing and sat back down in his beanbag, one of his hands idly rubbing the fuzzy fabric cover with his thumb and index finger. 

I scoffed loudly and stood back up, blocking his view of the TV. My hand politely took the soda can out of his hand, watching his eyes follow it as I brought it to my lips and took a long, long sip. He just stared up at me, but he didn’t look in any way offended. He just looked completely awestruck, a puppy-eyed look ever present in his face. 

I put the soda down on the dresser so that he’d have to get up to get it, and went back to changing. I faced the TV so I could keep a hawk’s eye on him as I peeled off my jeans, rendering me in just my bra and panties which didn’t match at all. 

I heard him grunt slightly as he stood up to grab his soda off of the dresser. He turned around to face me, until he stopped dead in his tracks and his smirk was wiped clean off his face. 

After a second or two of him taking in as much of the sight as he could, his hand flew over his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he whined. “I was gonna play a prank on you. Didn’t know you were changing again. ‘M sorry.” 

“I don’t care, Matt,” I sighed in defeat. “I practically live here now. You were gonna see me half-naked at some point anyhow.”

Hesitantly, he lowered his hand, keeping his gaze on the floor. It was strange; he didn’t sit back down. 

“Just don’t let me find any of my clothes in your bed or I’ll punch you hard enough to turn your teeth into bullets,” I said. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, focusing on my task at hand once more. I dug through my big duffel bag to look for a clean shirt to sleep in, only finding a bunch of dress clothes that I hadn’t yet needed to wear. Right. I sighed. They’re in the wash. 

“Could I borrow a shirt?” I asked. Matt was sitting once more, rubbing the back of his neck and gently tugging on some of his curls. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, glancing at me again. That ‘glance’ turned into more of a ‘good look’. My back was turned to him again and I pretty much had my ass on full display. 

I don’t know when he looked away. I don’t actually know if he looked away at all. I just dug through his closet, trying to find the biggest T-shirt he had. 

It wasn’t uncommon for me to borrow his clothes. My duffel bag had initially only had enough clothes for 2 weeks, so I did laundry quite often and sometimes had to wear the same pants multiple days in a row. When I felt extra lazy and put off doing laundry, he let me borrow shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, pajama pants, the whole shabang. 

I picked out one of his Primus tees that had some fucked up linework drawing of a prostitute smoking a hooka. It was a sick shirt but it definitely wasn’t something you could wear to class. 

It fit me like a dress, which I loved. It was big enough that the hem covered most of my ass, which was good, because I didn’t have any clean shorts to sleep in unless I stole a pair of his. 

Lastly, I pulled my bra off from under my shirt and tossed it towards the door, where I threw most of my dirty clothes. Once I was finished, I turned back around and stood next to where Matt was sitting. 

“Scoot over,” I said. He quickly obliged. It was a pretty big beanbag, so we could both fit as long as we were shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. I must admit that there had been a night or two where we would end up entangled in some way due to the lack of space. My legs in his lap, my head on his shoulder, his arm resting up behind me. 

There was nothing I didn’t like about being close to him. He made me feel safe and he smell good and was warm. Some nights I hoped he’d be in the mood for having me real close. I hoped really hard now, especially after what just happened. 

“What are we watching?” I asked, making myself nice and comfortable and curling up next to him. 

“Groundhog Day,” he said, tilting his head back slightly so he could speak through the soda in his mouth. I looked at him for a moment, watching the muscles in his neck move as he swallowed the liquid. Then I turned my attention to the screen. “You missed the beginning, but basically he’s stuck living the same day over and over again. It’s like, a big allegory or whatever for Buddhism. Pretty good, though”

I nodded, watching as the Bill Murray character talked to a woman and asked her out on a date. A few seconds later, there was a smash cut to them on the verge of having sex. Matt awkwardly laughed next to me.

“Ah, yeah. Buddhism,” I said, mocking him. 

“You’ll like it. It gets better,” he argued. That’s when I felt his arm snake behind me, just a few inches away from laying across my shoulder. Once again, he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, fidgeting. 

Eventually the whole foreplay bit was over and the next scene started. My body subconsciously leaned into Matt’s, sinking my weight into his slim torso and absorbing the warmth that his body generated. I was both extremely comfortable and extremely exhausted. 

The movie went on, and like Matt said, the character was living the same day over and over. It was kind of lulling me to sleep. It was definitely pretty funny; occasionally I would jerk awake at the sound of Matt chuckling softly. I think at some point he pulled a blanket off his bed and wrapped it around me. I swear he ran his hand through my hair for just a moment, pulling me closer to him. 

Now his arm was wrapped around my shoulder, his hand occasionally lifting up to run his fingers through my hair or flatten any stray strands. It felt safe; it felt right. 

I opened my eyes and looked up at him, finding that his gaze was already on me. He looked like a deer in headlights, but exhausted at the same time. I watched Matt’s eyes dart around my face. 

“You ready for bed?” he asked softly, looking at the top of my head as he fixed a strand of my hair. 

One of my favorite parts about him was that he could be harsh and gentle, depending on the occasion. He always had a resting bitch face and was kind of intimidating to a lot of people, but he had such a soft, gentle side to him. 

My hand made its way up to his cheek. Matt had a nice, soft layer of peach fuzz that, paired with the warmth of his face, made my heart beat faster. My thumb tenderly traced back and forth on his cheek bone while my eyes fixated on his lips. 

Eventually, I felt his breath on my face as he closed his lips over my bottom one. I’d been biting the skin off of it all week, so there was a small stinging sensation that quickly faded once he kissed me again. 

I felt so shy all the sudden. Here I was, curled up in his arms, softly making out with him like teenagers with no experience. No second guesses or hesitations, just hearts beating together, breaths melting into each other while we explored. 

How did we get here? The question crossed my mind before I immediately pushed it away. I didn’t give a shit about how we got there, I was just glad that this is where we ended up. 

Without pulling his lips away from me, Matt somehow managed to find the remote and turn off the TV, before caressing my waist and pulling me ever closer. He was hovering over me a little, only making my heart race faster and my desire for him grow stronger. 

Now things were definitely starting to heat up. Matt softly groaned into my mouth, and for the first time since our lips first met, we pulled away. 

His eyes bored into mine, pupils dilated. We sat breathing into each others mouths, catching our breath as we tried to read what the other was thinking. It was almost suspenseful. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” I asked. It wasn’t even a whisper. Nope. I just breathed and moved my mouth to form the words. 

“Uh-huh,” he responded, nodding. He swallowed and I didn’t hesitate to tuck my hands under the hem of his baggy gray-green T-shirt. Matt kissed me again, deepening it. 

In an instant, his lips parted and he gasped softly as soon as my fingertips made contact with the warm skin of his abdomen. I could feel that part of his torso shifting ever so slightly as he breathed. 

I pulled away, making sure to keep eye contact with him while I slowly lifted his shirt up inch by inch. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he exhaled, catching me off guard. I swallowed, feeling my face flush once again. 

A second or two later, I pulled the fabric over his head, finally rendering him topless in front of me. He had a slender, curvy waist and just the smallest little bit of muscle in his abdomen. His hips were prominent, and his upper body was very broad in contrast to his slim frame. He had little dark beauty spot freckles scattered across his shoulders and body. I would love to sit there all day and just count them. I wanted badly to just map out and explore his body, feeling every inch of his skin and memorizing his shape. 

I snapped out of my trance as soon as he kissed me again, letting out several vocal breaths that I honestly didn’t expect to ever hear him make. He remained gentle in his kisses, but I felt the desire boiling and festering within both of us. It was extremely hard to ignore. 

“Do you wanna stop?” I asked, pulling away suddenly. 

“Do you wanna stop?” he repeated, his voice somewhat nervous. Matt swallowed and scanned my face. 

“No,” I whispered. I wrapped my arms around his neck, taking one of his curls between my fingers. 

Matt licked his lips. I could feel his whole body relax, and he leaned closer, ghosting his lips against mine. 

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” he asked shyly, staring down at my lips. My stomach flipped and felt a strong jumping-like feeling in between my legs. 

“I would like that a lot,” I answered, giggling wide eyes. I was so flustered that I was to the point where I laughed at myself. 

“Fuck yeah,” he laughed, out of breath. Matt leaned in to kiss me again, this time opening his mouth slightly wider. “Should we go up there?” 

He tilted his head towards the bed next us, and I nodded, wrapping my legs around his torso so he could pick me up.

“Mmh… c’mere baby,” he hummed softly, pressing my body against his as he lifted me up and tenderly laid me down beneath him on his bed. 

Matt suddenly felt so much bigger than me now that his body was hovering over me. He was straddling my hips, both of his large hands massaging my waist under my (his) shirt while he started leaving wet kisses down my neck. 

I arched my back at the feeling of his teeth as they pinched a small spot below my ear, his tongue coming quickly to the rescue to warm up the spot and relieve the pain. My hands were entangled in his soft, somewhat messy curls, caressing his entire head and holding it close to me. I stared at the ceiling, letting my eyes flutter shut any time I heard him groan and felt his hips subtly buck above me. 

“How about your shirt, baby?” he asked, nibbling on my ear. I could hear him breathing heavily through his nose, each warm exhale covering my ear and neck. One of his hands slid up my body and grazed the underside crease of my boobs with his fingertips. 

“You mean your shirt,” I giggled, rubbing his warm shoulders.

“Okay, my shirt,” he scoffed. “Can I take it off?”

I nodded, sitting up slightly. As soon as his hands lifted the fabric up and over my nipples, I panicked slightly. In no time the shirt was on the floor and Matt’s eyes were tentatively glued to my bare chest.  

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good…” he mumbled, prying his eyes away from my now nearly naked body. His hands squeezed my hips, lifting them up so he could start grinding against me. 

“Matt-“ I gasped. His hot mouth almost immediately attached to my collarbone, his tongue pressing flat against the skin. Meanwhile, I shivered as one of his hands slowly dragged up my waist and tenderly caressed one of my tits. And on top of that, for the first time, I could feel the tent he’d been pitching press into me as he started grinding against my hips with desperation. 

I ran my fingers through his hair and lifted my hips up, supported by my heels digging into the soft covers below me. My hands slid down over his shoulder blades, tracing each muscle as I moved them towards my panties. Finally, I managed to wriggle out of them and fling them onto the floor while Matt was sitting on his knees, towering over me. His broad chest moved in and out with each heavy breath he took with his lips slightly agape. 

He looked like one of those ancient Greek statues. Each muscle so defined under such smooth, warm skin. Natural posture so relaxed and almost ethereal. I wanted to devour him. 

Matt stared at me, the look in his eyes almost anxious but infinitely flustered and filled with lust. In a flash he yanked his flannel pajama pants down to his knees, kicking them off while he crawled on top of me again.!

“Do you like it fast or hard?” he asked me, his voice faltering slightly. He swallowed, looking down at me from above. Matt’s arms were on either side of me, propping his body up as he then got ready to start pulling his boxers off. 

“Fast,” I exhaled, though it really sounded more like a moan. Even subconsciously I wanted him to know that right now, I wanted him more than anything. 

“‘Course, baby,” he hummed softly, bending his arms like he was doing a pushup so he could peck my lips. I felt him smiling in the kiss. “Do you wanna… get me going?” 

He gestured towards his boxers and the hot, throbbing erection beneath them. Without hesitation, I spit in my palm and slipped my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, first untucking his cock from the side and then gently wrapping my hand around it. 

Matt immediately whimpered, holding in as much of it as he could while screwing his eyes shut. He felt so warm in my hand… and thick. I could feel a vein or two protruding from the soft skin and made sure to pay a little extra attention to them. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, letting his head drop down so he could see what wonders I was working with my hand. He shimmied out of his boxers and now I could see that yes, he was in fact thick. Most definitely thicker than I knew I was used to. 

I knew it was going to hurt like a bitch. It was intimidating, but still, as I tenderly stroked up and down his length, I only kept thinking of it as something that was making him feel insanely good and not as something that was going to hurt me. It would only hurt for a few seconds. 

His breath hitched and he practically threw my hand off him, sitting up again to catch his breath for a moment. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed, out of breath. Matt raised his eyebrows and smiled. His cheeks were so flushed and it looked like some sweat pearls had begun forming at his temples. 

I laid back, watching his muscles shift and flex as he took his glasses off and reached inside one of his dresser drawers for a condom. 

As he tore open the package, he looked at me, seemingly getting lost in the sight of me. 

I grabbed the hand of his that held the unopened condom and brought it close to my face so that I could kiss it. Then I pushed his hand back towards him so he could do the same, though he looked thoroughly confused.

“What, is that good luck or something?” he chuckled, looking down at his hands and dick as he opened the condom and slid it onto his length.

“It’s tradition,” I said, shrugging. Matt furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What tradition?” he scoffed, crawling on top of me. 

“Messing with you. I made it up,” I grinned. 

He shook his head, adjusting his position and posture while handling his cock, making sure it would slide in easy. 

Matt looked up at me through his eyebrows. It was the last look of reassurance before anything was really about to happen. Our lives were about to change forever. 

I nodded. I was so desperate for him at this point, I didn’t care if he hurt me at all. 

His large hand spread out on one side of my hips, digging into the flesh ever so slightly and likely leaving faint nail marks in my skin. I kept my eyes on him and found him instructing me to take a deep breath in with him. Before he told me to exhale though, he started pushing in. 

“Hmmn- ahh!” I half-moaned, half-winced. 

“Shh… oh, fuck,” Matt whispered in my ear, letting out a deep moan that’s he’s probably kept inside for a little while. 

I let out a groan of discomfort, trying my best to hold it in but ultimately failing. In response, Matt pulled his lips away from my ear so he could get a good look at my face.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, swallowing. 

“Mhm,” I hummed, biting my lip. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the feeling of Matt’s fingertips brushing my hair out of my face. “Just give me a minute.” 

Matt lowered himself on top of me, beginning to pepper soft, wet kisses on my jaw and neck. His hand massaged my hip and occasionally inched lower to squeeze the soft flesh of my upper thigh. 

I kissed him and became lost in his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him close to me. His curls tickled my forehead as we kissed softly. I’d completely forgotten about the fact the he was inside of me; I was so focused on how his lips felt and the fact that I could feel his heart pounding with his chest pressed against mine. Our skin grazed together softly with each breath we took, giving me goosebumps. 

“You can start now,” I whispered against his lips. Matt hummed in response, kissing me a little bit deeper as he adjusted the position of his body. 

We remained with our lips attached as his hips started to roll back and forth. I could hear Matt whimper every couple of seconds and he kept holding his breath, pulling away from the kiss to exhale into my mouth. The warmth in the pit of my stomach really started to boil up once he started moving, slowly drawing himself out and thrusting back in. I listened carefully to each little sound and breath he made as he moved. 

I heard him heavily exhale after swallowing. “S’good…” he whispered, grunting slightly. I moaned, running my fingers in his hair and tugging on it gently. 

A loud groan escaped his throat as I did this, encouraging me to do it again. One of his hands suddenly wrapped tenderly around my throat, carefully squeezing my neck. Matt’s head cocked to the side as he opened his mouth and slid his tongue in between my lips. 

I let out a soft moan as his tongue slid against mine, exploring the inside of my mouth with hunger and desperation. I let my hands travel from his head and neck down to his body, caressing his waist and pulling him into me. Matt’s hand left my hip, instead moving up to grip the top of the headboard of his bed, holding it to keep it from knocking against the wall each time we moved. 

He leaned down to let his forehead rest against mine, staring into my eyes. I stared right back. I’d never seen him without his round silver glasses before, but I knew he had a stunning set of dark green eyes and now I could see each little spec of blue in them as they darted around my face, almost nervously. 

His free hand moved to cup one of my tits, rolling his fingers over my nipple to tease the sensitive area. I gasped slightly, arching my back. 

“You have no idea how perfect you look right now,” he exhaled. 

I couldn’t do or say anything else but smile. I always had that reaction when he complimented me, but I was much more used to him saying something about my clothes or my work. His voice always sounded so deep and smooth; to hear him say my name or something nice about how I looked always sent my blood rushing to my cheeks.

“I’m close,” I whispered, touching his chest. 

“Faster?” he hummed. 

“Yeah,” I laughed slightly. 

Before moving again, he adjusted his position, letting go of the headboard. He propped himself up and licked the thumb of his free hand, before lowering it and using it to massage slow circles around my clit. Matt’s body was hovering above me when he bowed his head to start kissing the crook of my neck. Only then did he start thrusting once more, rolling his hips faster and faster. 

The new sensation along with the added pleasure of his fingers working my clit had me in shambles. I threw my head back and let out a loud moan, succumbing to the electrifying, hot sensation that festered throughout my entire body. The pit of my stomach tightened, my legs trembled, my hands gripped anything they could touch. I dig my fingertips into the sheets, his back and shoulders, his biceps, his waist, his scalp. Several times did I pull on his hair like I was holding on for dear life, earning a groan from him each time. I just hoped I wasn’t hurting him. 

Matt let out a loud moan. I opened my eyes to see him struggling to thrust at a consistent pace, faltering every few seconds with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth agape. I watched him look down to see himself pumping in and out of me, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip tucked under his front teeth. 

He whimpered, trying his best to hold his breath. The sight of him rushing toward his own orgasm sent me over the edge. I cried out his name, gasping as every muscle in my body tensed up. The knot in my stomach came undone and I could feel my blood pumping through my body. 

Only a moment or two later did Matt’s body shudder and tense up. His muscles flexed as he leaned forward and tried his hardest to keep his hips moving, but he was ultimately overcome by his orgasm as he came, my name spilling from his mouth in the most beautiful way. 

I huffed, my body melting into his bed as my legs twitched and trembled. Matt collapsed on top of me, allowing his entire weight to sink into me. His arms were shaking, as if he were shivering. We both laid there for a minute, absorbing each other as we caught our breath. 

I think he fell asleep after a minute or two. He was completely relaxed on top of me like a big bag of sand. After a little while, my breaths became forceful, so I had to wake him up.

“Matt,” I hummed, tucking a strand of his hair behind my ear. 

He wasn’t sleeping. Matt lifted himself up, smiling down at me. He kissed me, seeming quite shy all the sudden as he had to hold his weight up while he leaned his head down towards me. 

“Sorry about these bruises,” he hummed, tracing a circle on the side of my neck.

“You’re not sorry,” I grinned, teasing him. 

“I’m not,” he admitted sheepishly. “They look good on you.” 

After a few seconds, we sat up and helped clean each other up a little. I could see small red marks in his skin from where my nails dug into his arms and shoulders. While helping each other get dressed again, Matt and I found ourselves a little distracted once more, kissing each other gently and softly as we pulled shirts over our heads. His lips were like air. I almost needed them to breathe. 

“Do you wanna finish the movie?” I asked him, massaging his waist underneath his shirt. 

“Sure,” he giggled softly. 

With that, we snuggled up under the covers in his bed, turning the TV towards us. Matt had me in his arms with my back pressed to his chest and his hand under my shirt, tracing shapes on my skin. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep. 

However, at one point, I opened my eyes to find that the TV and lights were off, rendering the room completely dark. Matt was no longer next to me, but it wasn’t long before he came back over to the bed and laid down behind me. His lips softly grazed the crook of my neck. “Good night,” he whispered, before kissing my neck one more time. 

“Mm… night,” I mumbled, barely awake. Matt pulled his thick pile of blankets over my shoulder, peppering small pecks of kisses on my neck as I drifted off once again, melting in his warmth. 

[itsohh]

Electra Heart Part 2

A/N: Female reader, I actually really enjoyed writing this dynamic even though I never really did dive into the reader being a popstar too much so I might do something more focused on that element in the future if theres intrest. Dunno, I'm just glad this didn't die in the wip graveyard lmao.

Summary: After a successful date with your long term friend Johnny things go rather well you finally decide to follow your heart without a care for your popstar image.

Word count: 5082

Warnings: Smut

Part 1 AO3

The next day after your date with Johnny, you found yourself at the studio as everyone talked about the demo you had submitted. “It's upbeat, it's fun, it's a song you get down to at the club. I think it should be the single of the album.” Mike, one of your producers argued. 

“It's a love song. It's off her brand, her brand is breaking hearts- ruining lives. Not this.” Katie, your manager bickered back. 

“No it's supposed to be a commentary of the modern age-

Meanwhile, you ignored them. Your focus was on your phone. Johnny's glasses decorated your face and hid your eyeline from everyone in the room. In your hand was your phone, just at the perfect angle to see under the glasses. Eyes on your phone you recorded yourself as they argued next to you- the volume muted. 

Going to work was a mistake 

You zoned out of the conversation as you received a reply from Johnny. His snap was a picture of him at his mansion. Without his shirt, you could see the sweat that covered his chest muscles. A pair of glasses covered his eyes as he flexed in the photo. 

Damn and I thought I looked good in them

Another snap came through of a slightly adjusted photo.

free 2nite?

Johnny, we literally went out yesterday 

what can I say? Can’t get enough of u

Next Tuesday I'm free

that's like five days away :(((

You’re a big boy, you can wait

lunch then? bring swimwear 

or don't ;))

=⁠_⁠=

you weren’t giving me that look last night

need a ride?

Nah I'll find my own way there

u sure? can drop you off again if u like?

We’ll see 

“Gale!” The sound of your stage name snapped you out of your thoughts and your eyes were met with the look of everyone else in the room. 

“Huh?”

“Are you listening?” Katie asked annoyed. You blinked and bit your tongue. 

“I don't know why we're are arguing over this, the album isn't even done.” Jacob, a man who rarely spoke up, raised his voice. 

“Because this is against her entire image if we-”

“Katie who cares?” Jacob leaned forward. “Artists change their vibe all the time. So she's fallen in love? It's not like we can't work with that.”

Something ran across Katie's eyes and she turned to face you. “Who is it? We can-”

“No no no no.” You immediately waved your hands. “There will be no publicity stunt. No tabloids no nothing. This one's private.”

You gave her a stare as you put your foot down, something you didn't do too often. 

“If you do go public with this you need to tell me first. Or if someone catches you.”

“Alright.”

-

Before you could even knock twice the front door to Johnny's mansion swung open and he picked you up in his arms. 

“There's my girl!” He swung you around in a circle before he placed you back on the ground again. 

“Your girl?” You laughed. 

“My girl.” He confirmed and a moment later his lips were on yours. Johnny pushed the door closed with one hand. His body pressed against yours and your back made contact with the now closed door. Sandwiched between him and the door, you hung your wrists around his neck and enjoyed the ride. 

“...Being waiting to do that all week.” He breathed when he parted, his forehead pressed against yours. 

“Yeah? Then why did you stop?” 

Something clicked inside of Johnny and he was upon you again. His hand found the joints on the back of your knees and picked you up with ease. Instictly you wrapped your legs around his waist and he carried the pair of you over to his lush sofa. 

The caps of your knees met the sofa as he at down on it. His hand settled on your ass where he gently kneaded it and encouraged you to grind against him. One hand tangled in his hair, you ran your nails through it and grabbed a chunk. 

His lips separated from yours only to assault your kneck and trail down to your chest where the open cut of your shirt exposed. “So fucking hot.” He mumbled against your skin. 

Then a ring of the phone happened. 

But this time, it wasn't your phone. 

“Johnny, your phone.” You mumbled.

In response, he growled against your skin and continued to assault your lips with his. 

“Ignore it. It’ll stop.”

He was right, it did after a few rings. Then it started again. You pulled back and stepped off his lap which caused him to let out a whine. 

Johnny snatched his phone off his liquor table and pressed it against his phone. “Cage here.” His eyes watched as you approached his swimming pool and nearly dropped his phone when you started to take off your clothes. 

Johnny watched with great obvious interest as you stripped down to reveal your high-waisted bikini underneath. 

“Uh-huh.” You were at least fifty percent sure he wasn't listening to his phone. There was a decently sized charcuterie board on a small mobile table near the pool. It was filled with different, cheeses, meat, fruit and crackers. 

You picked a couple of grapes from the bunch and popped one in your mouth. Johnny watched as you approached him and pressed the grape to his mouth. His lips accepted it without hesitation and you could feel the slight touch of his soft lips against your fingertips. 

“Hey look, I'm actually in the middle of something. I’ll have to call you back or just email me alright? Yeah okay. Bye.” He tossed the phone over his shoulder onto the couch and attempted to snatch at your waist but you skipped out of grasp. 

A squeal left your lips as he chased after you until you jumped directly into the pool as an escape. When you surfaced and turned to face Johnny, he crouched at the edge of the pool. 

“This shirt can not get wet but damn is it tempting to ruin it right now.” 

You swam up to him in the guise that you were going to kiss him but last second you snatched his glasses once again and pushed off the pool wall with your foot. 

Johnny watched as you placed them on your face and grinned at him. He stood up from his crouched position and pointed a finger at you. “In about three to four minutes from now, your dead.”

“Whatever you say Johnny!” You sang back. 

He disappeared from view and you snuck out of the pool to go back to feasting off the charcuterie board. A couple of minutes later the hair on your shoulders stood up and you turned to see Johnny at the top of his stairs. No longer was he in a dress shirt and pants but in a rather small and tight pair of swim shorts. 

Cage stalked his way over to you rather casually but as he got close there was violence in his eyes and he went to grab you. Like a caught deer, you scrambled to jump back in the pool but this time he followed you in. 

It shouldn't have surprised you but he was an extremely strong swimmer and managed to catch you by the waist with ease. You squealed and laughed as he pulled you by the waist. 

“You have something of mine.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Your head rolled over his shoulder and grinned in his glasses. 

He raised his brows up as if to say ‘really?’ but grinned regardless. The pair of you stayed like that for a moment, just looking at each other. Then you saw it, that look in his eyes. Always hidden but now revealed, not desire but care. Johnny looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

The smile on your face dropped and you slowly turned around to face him. Johnny's grip loosened so you could move and you hung your arms around his neck once again. 

“I swear I can't think I'm around you,”  Johnny said. 

“Really? You hide it well.”

“Gods yes. That time at the academy? I swear I felt like I was at high school again.”

“Johnny you slept through half of the lessons.”

“Dreaming of you babe.”

“Johnny.” You rolled your eyes. One hand left your waist and came out of the water to reach for the glasses. A sudden gasp left your lips and you pushed off Johnny back into the water to escape. When you looked over your shoulder Johnny was on his way towards you, watering flying everywhere as he did so. 

You found the ladder at the side of the pool and quickly climbed out. Water dripped off your body but you didn't get too far before you felt his hand grab at you. Yet, he failed and only managed to get a grasp on the back of your bikini. As you continued to move forward, it pulled the bikini and in doing so it came undone. 

“Johnny!” You hissed and spun around to face him, your hands on your chest to keep yourself decent. 

For once, a red dusting covered his cheeks and he immediately put his hands over his eyes. “Oh fuck I’m so sorry. I swear I didn't mean to.” 

A second passed and you watched him. Despite his obvious horniness for you 24/7 he still cared. His head tilted to the sky so he couldn’t possibly see, his palms were most certainly in the way.  Your heart hammered instead of your chest and you swallowed. Instead of doing it back up, you took a couple of silent steps towards him. You dropped the bikini top in your hands and let it fall to the ground. “Johnny…” You reached up and grabbed his wrist then slowly pulled it down. 

His eyes were squeezed shut and he peaked open one testinly. It went from your face down to your exposed chest. Johnny pressed his lips together and looked away from you for a second as he obviously restrained himself. 

“You can look.”

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Both eyes opened as he drank up your form.

“Ohmyfuckinggod may I touch?”

“Mhmm.”

The second you gave confirmation he bent his knees and picked you up by the waist. Up in the air, he aligned your chest with his mouth as he latched on. Your legs wrapped around his waist automatically as Johnny sucked on one breast and felt up the other. 

He rolled your nipple between his fingers as he carried you over to his sofa, not a care in the world for the water that was sure to cover it. “John-ny.” Your whine turned into a long moan. Now that you were on his lap he could use one hand to palm your ass where he encouraged you to grind against him. 

The swimwear that separated the pair of you did little to create a barrier and you could soon feel the sheer size of him that hardened against you. Mentally you made a note that he seemed to really enjoy your movements.

One of your hands leaned on the sofa while the other buried in Johnny's hair and kept him pulled against your chest, not that he needed to be held there. There was a pop as he detached from your breast and then made a large lick on the other one before he swapped sides. 

Johnny hummed against you and his hips started to rock up to add more friction between your legs. “I've wanted you the second I saw you.” He briefing spoke against your skin and continued, his big brown eyes looking up at you. 

“You want every woman that you see.”

“What can I say? There's a lot of beautiful women out there. But you're the one I wanted to keep.” 

Johnny detached his lips from your nipple and placed a kiss between your breasts in your cleavage. “You’re smart.” Kiss. “And fun.” Kiss. “And pretty.” Kiss. “And can kick some serious ass.” Kiss. “I’d be a fool to let you slip between my fingers.” This time instead of kissing your chest, he pulled you down by the jaw and planted his lips against yours. A messy and open mouth kiss that was full tongue. One caused your cunt to drench further. 

“Think you can take me baby?” His eyes trailed your jaw to your lips

“Only one way to find out.”

“Fuck.” He moaned at that thought as his eyes shut for a moment and he swallowed. “That's the attitude.” 

He allowed you to press up from him and separate the pair of you. The distance was just enough to give him room to fish his rock-hard cock from his shorts. The hand that had been him his hair drifted down and you pushed your bikini bottom to one side. Your cunt glistened for him, covered in your arousal. Johnny started to rub the tip of his head between your soaked folds and you watched the way his eyelids fluttered. 

“Fuck.” He moaned again and he drew out the end of the word

Just as he held it between your folds for a little longer and you used the opportunity to slide down on it. Johnny let out a lot of hiss of delight. “Oh, you're going to be the death of me. So tight.” He whined as he slouched slightly on the sofa. Your hands found his shoulders and your nails dug in slightly while you anchored yourself. 

“Your…. Like…Really big.” You panted. Johnny blinked a couple of times as the pain of you slowly adjusted to the feeling.

“No need to tell me.” He winked and placed both palms over your ass. Johnny didn't try and get you to move though, he was content in allowing you to pick the pace. 

As you steadied yourself you couldn't help but be almost overwhelmed by him. Sure you had taken dick before, real or not. But this time, he was so deep inside you could swear you could feel him in his chest. His thick cock had you so pleasantly stretched that he had quite literally stuffed your entire hole. 

Then his phone started to ring. Johnny's head snapped forward and snatched the phone that vibrated next to you. He promptly threw it across the room and it fell into the pool with a satisfying ‘plop’. The sound was cut off as it quickly sunk to the bottom of it. 

“Where were we?” He looked up and down your bare form. “Oh yeah, that's right.” Johnny's lips connected with yours again and slowly you started to roll your hips against him. Just the smallest of movements sent electricity throughout your entire body.

“Please.” Your voice was strained but he wasn't one to make you beg. Johnny started to lift you with your bounces, making it easier for you while he thrust up. 

Johnny's palm cupped your cunt and his thumb found your clit at expert speed. When he grazed it, you flinched up and his smirk grew. He gave you that one look before he started to circle your clit to the same rhythm of your movements. 

It was a different type of pleasure that started to build inside you and soon you were squirming on his cock while he kept control. Mentally you made sure to get him back but then that thought faded to the back of your mind as your body continued to tense up. “Mmm so nice and tight for me. Yeah? Come on baby, lemme see you cum on my cock.” 

His voice, the purr of his voice had you squeeze down on him as the thread inside of you snapped and a wave of pleasure took your body by storm. Your heartbeat raced in your ears and your nails broke through the skin on his shoulder. Yet, Johnny didn't care. He continued to praise you through your high. 

“That's it, oh fuck yes, you’re doing so well. Let it out baby, I got you. I got you.” For a moment his babbles were silenced as you were taken away for what felt like an hour but in reality was only for a few seconds. 

Energy spent, you slumped forward into Johnny's waiting arms. “Tired you out huh?” He chuckled and picked you up with his cock still inside. You didn't bother to look where he was taking you, simply burried your face into his shoulder. 

“Just gimmie a few minutes.” You mumbled into him.

He laughed and kissed the side of your head. “Take your time. I'll be here all day and all night.”

-

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of a loud thumping and it wasn't in your head. When you opened your eyes and blinked you found yourself in an unfamiliar room and it took you a couple of seconds to recover your memories. 

The rush of resting in Johnny's bed cuddled up to him came to your mind. Then the memory of you getting a little handy. Then him getting handsy, then him fucking you. Against the bed, in the shower, in the bed again, the shower again and finally him taking you to the bed where properly went to sleep. 

Sheets barely covered the pair of you and pillows were all over the place in his massive bedroom. Your bikini bottoms nowhere to be seen. The open bedroom door did little to mitigate the continued thumping.  You looked over to see Johnny was on his front fast asleep. You lightly shook him but he just rolled over some more into an even deeper sleep. 

With a roll of your eyes, you slipped out of his bed and grabbed his dressing gown that was hung up on the back of his door. It was a white silk piece with golden embroidery of his name on the back. The bright light that streamed through the windows when you left the room had you pause. You backed into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of his sunglasses. How many copies he had of the same pair, you didn't know. 

The pounding continued again and you slowly made your way downstairs until you got to the front door. With a yawn, you opened it. “Cage reside-” Your sentence was interrupted as you stared at the person at the door. And they stared at you. 

The pair of you both said each other's name in surprise and you let him into the house. Now wide awake you yelled Johnny's name and kicked your clothes to the side as Kenshi walked in after you. “So you and Johnny huh? Should have seen that one coming.” He didn't seem too upset by the matter. Kenshi seemed more amused than anything. 

“Yeah.”

“How long has that been a thing?”

“Maybe a week?”

“Yeah I'm up, you could have woken me a different-” Johnny started to speak and you interrupted him. 

“Kenshi’s here.” 

“Johnny.” Kenshi greeted.

That seemed to wake Johnny up. “Oh shit, hey man.”

“You forgot again, didn't you? I tried to call you yesterday but you didn't pick up.” 

Cage looked towards the pool where his phone still was. “Yeah, it had a water accident.” It was waterproof, of course, but Kenshi didn't need to know that. 

“Right.”

“I thought you weren't coming till noon though.”

“It is noon.” 

“It's what?” You gasped out in horrible and started to rush for your clothes. “Oh fuck my managers going to be pissed.” You found your phone in your pocket to see the right missed calls. Neither of the men were able to say anything to you as you continued to head into Johnny's room to get dressed. You were without your missing bikini top and bottoms but you made do. 

“It was great seeing you both again but I have to go bye!” Is all you said as you practically ran out the front door.

-

It wasn't that you didn't want to reply to Johnny's texts, it was the fact that you were just a bit late that threw everyone off schedule. The mouthful from your manager was an annoyance at best before you were shoved into makeup and costume. 

Like always, you gave the concert your all but you couldn't help but feel a little distracted at times thinking of the ghost touches left by Johnny. Thankfully you had the lyric prompter in front of you. 

It wasn't until an hour later after the concert at the end of the day did you finally settled down. At least it had only been in Vegas and not an international concert. 

There were a few snaps of Kenshi and Johnny sent to you when you finally opened up your phone after your shower. 

miss u already 

home isn't the same without u

how u feeling? surprised u can still walk ;))

The first message had been sent about an hour after you left and the other about three hours later. 

Sorry, I was late for work and then got swept up. I'm good. You’re going to have to try harder than that to stop me from walking, kombat’s built up my stamina 

His reply was pretty quick. 

guess I will have to try again

also had to get a new phone turns out waterproof phones have a time limit

who knew???

You rolled your eyes 

Who would have thought leaving your phone in a pool all night would kill it?

…

He rewrote his sentence a couple of times before the next message came through.

worth it 

Your eyes went to his glasses which you had stolen, the second pair, that lay on the hotel room dresser. An idea formed in your head when you glanced at the large mirror that ran parallel to the bed. You pealed away the towel you sat in. 

Next, you removed the towel around your head and threw them both in the hamper. Completely naked, you picked up the glasses and placed them at the end of your nose so your eyes were still visible. 

You got on the end of the bed and sat on your knees, your feet aimed outwards on an angle. It wasn't a very comfortable position but you only stayed there long enough to take a photo in the mirror. 

I have to confess, I’m sorry, I stole another pair

The response was immediate

keep them

Then came the barrage of texts. 

where r u rn?

can I come over?

babe that's so hot

have that framed on my wall if I could

so hard thinking of you

Sorry, Johnny, I'm out of town for the night.

;-; 

What about Kenshi?

kenshi was only over for a few hours

he has special agent shit he needs to do

Rip

gotta ask sweetheart why are you all dolled up? still got makeup on your face

Had a work thing, just got out of the shower

mmm I love taking showers with you 

wish I was there

Next time Cage

Also after tomorrow I'll be out of town for a while

how long?

About a month

A MONTH? 

u didn't let me say goodbye:((

Then what was yesterday?

me saying hello

Uh-huh anyway it's for work so you’re gonna have to toughen it up

maybe I should come join you ;)

Don't you have a movie to direct?

yeah (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Promise I'll stay in touch okay? Now off to bed big guy

goodnight &lt;3

Goodnight Johnny 

-

A month later Johnny received a text from you stating you were finally back from your work trip. Exhausted though and bed was your first objective. The next morning he was on the phone with you.

“I still can’t believe you recorded that.” Your voice huffed over the phone. 

“What can I say? I'm a born director.”

“I ate mad ass in that fight, Johnny.”

“Come on, you weren't that bad.”

“I was! I feel like you have an inflated opinion of- ah hold on one moment someone's at the fucking door.” Your tired voice turned into a hiss of annoyance. 

Despite the muffled sound that came from the phone, Johnny could hear rather easily. 

“Um hello, can I help you?”

“Nightingale?” The voice was deep and Johnny stayed completely silent, dedicated to listening. 

“Ah, another one. How many times do I need to tell you that the leak is incorrect? There's no Nightingale here.”

“We both know that isn't true.”

“Excuse me, you need to back the fuck away from the door. I will defend myself- Get the fuck away from me!” There was the smallest sound of what he presumed was a struggle and the line went dead. Alarm bells went off in Johnny's head and he scrambled to his feet. 

When he arrived at the apartment he pounded on the door. But instead of you, he was met with a rather short blue-haired woman. She yawned as she opened the door and he immediately said your name. 

“She's not here. She just finished her tour dude, I know you guys just started dating but she hates visitors just after a tour.” 

Johnny stared at Lisa blankly. 

“She doesn't live here?” 

Lisa’s brows shot up and she shook her head. 

“No way.”

“Where is she? I think she's in danger.” Johnny's voice was quiet, serious for once. Lisa’s lips parted and she nodded. 

“I can direct you, let me grab my shoes.”

-

Johnny drove fast normally but at the thought of something happening to you? It was like he was on a track, like a madman. Lisa surprisingly didn't seem to mind and was quick to direct him expertly. 

She helped him find the mansion. It was massive in the worst of ways. It seemed half of it wasn't in use, curtains covered all the windows. Large high walls surrounded the place like a prison and only when Lisa told him the code was his car allowed him. 

“Stay here.” He commanded and Lisa gave him wide eyes but nodded, his martial skills were no secret. 

Johnny was careful in his approach when he was your busted door, a dead chain on the ground. Your house was a palace. While his house was modern and personalised, yours seemed rather generic and didn't show much of your personality at all. What was alarming was the amount of broken things on your floor. Then blood. There was a decent amount of blood spatters that now stained the once-perfect marble floor.

His keen ears managed to hear something and he crept up the stairs. There was a loud sound and he narrowed dodged the metal object that flew at him. Johnny's eyes went to the Grammy which flew past him and down the stairs. “I told you guys to fuck off- Johnny?” 

When his head turned he was met with you. Your hair was frankly a mess. A massive change from your usual self, you wore sweatpants and a cropped singlet. There was no hesitation before you flew into his arms and buried your face into his shoulder. 

“What happened?” 

“There was this group of men. I don't know who they were but I gave them a piece of my mind.”

“I've got Lisa in the car- let's get out of here.”

You didn't try to argue, instead you nodded and allowed Johnny to walk you out. 

“Where are they?” He asked. 

“I don't know, there were only about five and I think they took off when they realised I wasn't going quietly. There are security cameras in the house, I have a friend at a security company. They can figure it out, the cops won’t do shite.” A sigh left your mouth. “Fuck I knew I should have moved the second my address got doxxed. Fucking hate this house anyway.” You mumbled. 

“Why didn't you move?”

“Honestly? I hate moving, I have so much shit that I don’t care about, clothes I don't care for. And in the end? All houses in LA are the same. Big and empty, all too lonely.” 

Johnny stopped abruptly and turned to face you, his hand planted on both sides of our face so all you could do was look at him. “Live with me then.”

“What?”

“Live with me. You don’t even need to bring your stuff, we buy you new clothes. I’ll buy you anything you want. The bed feels better with you in it anyway.”

“Johnny… we only just started dating…”

“Who cares? We know each other.” His hand directed between the pair of you. “We know each other. Worst comes to worst it gives you somewhere to stay while you look for somewhere else.”

“Okay.” You nodded and he pulled your head in where he placed a kiss on your forehead. The pair of you reached his car and you got in the back seat. 

“So… was that a Grammy you threw at me?”

-

Johnny's house really started to feel like home as he helped you get comfortable. Originally you had refused his offer to buy new clothing but when you thought about the overwhelming closet had, you reconsidered. In the end, you had agreed to let him shop for you so long as he used your card. 

“I can't believe you never told me you were an international pop star.” His finger made a small gesture for you to turn so he could see the entire outfit. Normally you weren’t one for clothes shopping but Johnny really made it fun.

“It never came up.” 

“Does Liu Kang know?” He nodded while he ate up the sight of you.

“Yeah, all our friends know.” 

Johnny gasped at you, offended. 

“Why didn't you ever tell me?!”

A sigh left your lips and you turned off your phone that was in your hands and placed it on the coffee table in front of you. 

“To be honest I hid it from you.”

“But why?” He whined. 

“Because all my relationships have been PR stunts I didn't want it to be that I didn't want you to like the performance version of myself. I wanted you to love me for me. Just me.”

Silence filled the air as Johnny proceeded what you were saying. “You want me to love you?” 

“I do.”

He leaned in close to you, his lips almost touched yours. “Good, because I do. I have, for a long time.” They connected with yours. 

[rebouks]

Let's be nosy and see what a few folks have been up to recently and/or since Somnium ended, shall we..? 👀

Kaden/Joey are still around, somewhere.. Joey would probably tell you by accident, but Kaden keeps him on a tight leash. I very much doubt either of them have changed their ways, you can't teach an old dog new tricks and all that... I dunno if we'll really see em again properly, though I never say never!

Brynn, Ace and Robert may have left Del Sol, but Randy and Genesis are still stuck in their old ways. Sissy likes the attention and money from her "job" too much to leave. I think part of her still hopes someone's gonna whisk her away to a life of luxury and she'll live happily ever after, just like Brynn did.. assumedly 😩 Randy won't leave without her ofc, and he doesn't really like change anyway. He's lazy, what else is he gonna do?! The motel barely makes any money either, but he manages with a few odd jobs from the less savoury folks around town. They're doing swell 👍

Luckily, no one ever ratted on Darien and he was far too careful to end up under the microscope without being exposed - especially since Wyatt left the scene - so he moved back to San My eventually. Ever the workaholic, he found himself a job at the same accounting/law firm as Wade (props to anyone who remembers him lmaoo) he doesn't need the money but he'd probably go insane without a job ngl 😆 He doesn't really find it easy to make friends either, and Wade recently found himself behind bars for a lil tiny bit of tax evasion so he's pretty lonely-.. although he did meet a fellow asexual lady friend he's been on a couple dates with recently. They have fun n' get on well, but she thinks he's this straight laced/awkward accountant and it makes him feel weird, like he's lying about himself.. so idk how long that'll last. I think he kinda misses being part of a "family", however fucked up it was.. but most of all, he just misses Wyatt 😔

Alma and Mack have been hanging out more often recently, just casually tho u kno?? She likes her freedom too much to give it all up, and although he's a great lover, he's a terrible boyfriend lmaoo.. I think she's accepted that Mack is Mack so they're not making it serious or official this time. They're not exactly getting any younger either, may as well have some fun whilst they're still here, right?! Kobe's considering moving out 'cause eugh 😆

Brivan n' co are just kinda living life right now, working, hanging out with Jacob/Suzie/Miya a fair bit and tryna get used to the news of Jude n' such u kno? Pixie's hitting her milestones like a champ ofc, but she's a picky eater just like her pappy 😅 Bruno insists he's fine but he's been a lil quiet and weird recently. Part of him still struggles with his old self and his guilt, though he ain't exactly a talker, so he retreats into himself now and then instead. He's been thinking of proposing to Ivan occasionally as well, but he doesn't want to do it whilst he's in a funk AND he's a lil worried (aka majorly overthinking) the fact that Ivan might not take too well to being proposed to?? But wait, nah.. he'd love it, right? Maybe-.. unless he hated it, maybe he'd rather be the one to ask-.. should he? Yes-.. no, wait-.. maybe?!!? Probably-.. AGHHHHHFJSDK <- said Bruno's brain 🙈

Jessie and Ivan have been taking it slow, mostly since she's so damn busy all the time, but also 'cause they hardly know each other n' all. Ivan's kinda bummed she's slow to trust him, but he can't exactly blame her so he's being patient n' meeting them whenever he can. Jude is so smitten with his new pappy tho, he even wanted to grow his hair just like him 😭 Oscar n' Robin have tagged along a few times as well since the kiddos are practically the same age, but idk if Robin is too sure abt Jude just yet! He's very talkative and he's a big hugger.. I wonder where he gets that from?? 🤣 I think Jessie's finally warming up to the idea of sharing Jude 'cause she agreed to leave him alone with Ivan for a sleepover soon! They're gonna get dressed up n' head to Oscar's for a spooky party! Oh, and Oscar thinks Jessie has a nice rack....... boi plz 🙄

Not pictured/spied upon..

Tilda - she's just existing rn tbh! She hangs out with Brivan/Pixie now n' then which she enjoys more than she'll let on! She's tryna stay away from dating and focus on herself too.. but she's not all that keen on herself so that's hard work 😩 a few dates here n' there but nothing interesting! She's also still ignoring her family.

Noah n' co - Aspen started teaching a few mommy/toddler yoga classes in the upstairs portion of Noah's gallery since he barely uses it, Juni loves it! Juni started ballet recently too 🩰 Noah's still salty with Oscar for not hanging out more but the man's busy dammit! I think Oscar's glad he's on semi-decent terms with everyone but he'd rather keep them at arms length so it stays that way skdjskjd

Salton - Alton's still Alton lmao.. though Sid gives him more shit nowadays since she's mostly retired she's realised he's even lazier than she thought and I'm sure she regrets letting him get a TV! She's a bit bored/lost tbh, which is why she hasn't fully retired yet.. introspection doesn't suit her (so says she) and she doesn't like all this extra time to think n' shit.. ough 🙈

Rhys & Tommy - both finished uni wooooooo! They're staying with Rhys' parents for now tho, Tommy's not rlly sure what to do with his psychology degree yet but he still thinks he'd like to be a psychologist so maybe he'll get a job/save up n' do his masters or smth?! Rhys has been taking on jobs as a wedding/event photographer for now, but he'd like to veer more towards photography as an art form-.. tho he's not sure how to go about that just yet either 🤔 they're figuring it out and they're happy so it doesn't rlly matter toooo much for now

Uhhhhh idk I've probably missed some folk out but feel free to ask abt anyone else in the comments! 🧡

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

i was gonna wait until i finished the bitd and deadlands line-ups before posting these, but i'm not gonna get those done before the final season starts, so might as well bite the bullet now XD woohoo, oxventure d&d designs! i'll go into further detail below the cut for all of my thoughts on these designs and reasoning for smaller details, but for now, just know that i will never draw a cape. i simply cannot do it. hoods and weird draped fabric or nothing XD

okay i put like. waaay too many thoughts into a lot of these small details so im gonna allow myself to geek out here X3 firstly - though they're way too small to read properly, i did the little symbol eye shines i used in my first art for them! dob gets music notes, prudence gets fire, corazón gets hearts, and merilwen gets flowers. i usually draw egbert's pupils pretty thin to resemble a reptile, so he just gets normal eye shines, but i probably could have given him some here... he would get suns if i thought of that

dob - muscular in a wiry and dehydrated way, lol, hence having a more defined stomach/hips despite not being as strong as prudence or egbert. he has sad/down-turned puppy dog eyes at all times because i think the big-eyed endearing look is fitting for him, though i do make them darker blue than his canonical baby blues because i just... like how dark blue eyes look, lol. i'm pretty sure he canonically has the stomach scar, and obviously his facial scar has always been there, but i gave him a couple other ones just to show that hes pretty reckless. and he gets freckles because even though they arent mentioned in the dragon dogma's video, i noticed luke added some and. i like freckles a lot

prudence - i've said this before, but i love the thought of pru getting muscular after the werebear bite <3 i just think she should be a little bit hench. as a treat. once again, the heavy stomach scarring comes from the dragon dogma's video, because i found their design choices in that really fun. i change prudence's outfit the most out of any of the characters, just because her canonical outfit confuses me. i'm really bad at understanding/drawing fantasy wear as is, but her fit... i'm lost entirely XD so i free-balled a bit. her inner sleeves that hook around her fingers are based on jane's various prudence looks, and then the looser outer sleeve is just because i love prudence with a dramatic sleeve. originally the colors were closer to her canon outfit, but it just looked messy without all the details of the original, and then i tried red like jane's prudence looks but it didn't contrast enough with her skin. so i restricted them to just deep purples and black with pops of gold and dark magenta!

corazón - what can i say besides. transgender. LMAO honestly though, besides adding the top surgery scars, i just really like his canon look. i simplified the details, obviously, but i really love his big coat and his tall boots and the earrings and the black-on-black-on-black of it all. i didn't particularly feel like drawing hats when i was doing this, lol, so i stuck with a red bandana instead. the beads that are strung from it are black, red, purple, green, and yellow to match their guild's canonical color associations/the colored name plates they get in later seasons :] because corazón is the sentimental sort, even when he won't say it. also he gets a little cateye for his eyeliner, i dunno if i've ever said why i do that before haha

egbert - egbert my dearly beloved. literally just his canon look except he has la vache mauve on his tunic instead of fire! and the nose spikes i give him, i guess, but i forget those aren't canon. i actually usually draw him in mike's egbert get up, with the black robes and the golden dragon sigil, but i kinda wanted to move away from that to lean more into the end of legacy of dragons, where egbert fully commits to never going back to the dragon d'or. also i just love drawing little cow heads <3 also! i like the idea that rather than typical scar tissue, dragonborns grow thicker scales over places where they've been injured. so the thicker patches of small scales on egbert's body are meant to be scars! including his kidney scar, lol. the larger scales and the ones on his face were always there though, that's just dragonborn biology baby

merilwen - if i said i based merilwen's body on cartoon bears, would you forgive me... i just think it's cute LOL tummy <3 for the final dragon dogma's video reference, that's where her freckles and tattoos come from. ellen was right, merilwen with floral tattoos fucking rules. who am i to deny it. as a hairy woman myself, i also like making merilwen a hairy woman. she's a hippie, she would NOT shave. i also really love the red earrings she wears in her canon art, so i tried to carry that through to some other small parts of my drawing for her, and landed on the bands she has on her pants as well as the odd feather for her arrows. fun archery fact, for those who may not know - in modern archery at least, you usually will have a differently colored feather (or for my arrows, rubber fins lol) that indicate how youre meant to string the arrow! so i took advantage of that to give merilwen some more red, hehe

[juicedbug]

𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙃

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦

they couldn't be more different. polar opposites, most would say. but jason thinks that's what he likes most about salim; he's nothing like him nor like anyone else he's ever met.

frankly, salim othman is everything jason could only dream of becoming. he's the epitome of fearless. stable, if it could wield a metal stake and walk on two legs. while jason can put on a powerful facade of such things, it'll never be authentic like it is with salim.

and it's just like jason to only discover that after being trapped in an abundance of deadly situations with the man himself. though, in a way, he's rather appreciative of it. despite the darkness, the ray that salim managed to offer was nothing short of eye-opening. and jason was left utterly mystified by the fact that everything his father attempted to force feed him as an adolescent would just simply pass in a matter of hours.

brushing against death with alien vampires would be more than enough to make anyone overthink their entire life, but for jason, it was more than that. his thirty years, and everything he's both failed and accomplished within them suddenly felt like a waste. it's as if, for just a moment, all his inner guilts and regrets were no longer there. it was just salim, and that stupid piece of rusted rod he used to save his life countless of times.

inevitably, in the back of his mind, he always knew this day would come.

"what is it that you always say?" nick's voice breaks through his thoughts, "I can hear your brain ticking away?" he recalls, joining jason at his side as he ruffles through his pockets. no doubtedly for his pack of cigarettes.

"unless ya got a couple of shots rattlin' 'round in there, I don't wanna hear it." jason retorts, but not without a dismissive flick of his hand.

nick regards him with a little more than a grunt, carefully looking over the dirt covered expression upon his friends face. he redirects his gaze downwards, patting some more at pockets. for his lighter, assumingly. "gotta admit, man. I was not expecting you to go back for salim like that."

"me neither."

"not after you nearly shot rachel."

"your keyword there is nearly." jason points out. "dunno what that's gotta do with anythin'," he adds, clearly bitter about the reminder.

"well. . ." nick trails, "I guess I'm used to you making the hard, sacrifical decisions, you know? but you didn't that time, and. . .I'm just trying to say I'm proud of you." he attempts to assure. his hands eventually rest as he comes to a conclusion. ". . .rachel still has my lighter. . ." he sighs out in a distant defeat.

jason glances at nick, then away, then back once more. he uses the opportunity to switch topics, and he shortly snorts at nick's realization. "jesus fuckin' christ, nicky," he clicks his tongue, "can I ask," he prods, though he doesn't stop to actually get an answer from nick. "why rachel? I didn't think the two of you had anythin' in common."

"we don't," nick concurs, "but I. . . liked her."

"liked?" jason parrots with interest.

"she broke up with me," nick informs quick, akin to how one might rip off a bandaid. "right before we found you and salim in. . .whatever the hell that place was."

"fuckin' hell on earth," jason corrects, granting a pause shortly there after. ". . .does the colonel know?"

"does he ever," nick answers begrudgingly, "the whole confrontation kinda took place. . .at the same time. . ."

jason blinks, turning fully to face the other in a style of bewilderment. "shit," he exasperates in a single breath, and nick nods in agreement. "well, 'm sure glad salim and I weren't dyin' while that was happenin'," he teases.

nick rolls his eyes, though in theory, he's actually grateful for the subject change. "as if either of you would get that far just to let the other die," he raises his brows in expectancy, ". . .seriously, man. you guys work well together. it's kind of surprising."

jason stares at nick as he speaks, his lips pressed together tight in a thin line. he falls into the quiet, for once not really sure on what to say.

briefly, he wonders if nick is or at least was in love with rachel. if he knew it, or if he figured it out when it was already too late. either way, it sounds like a terrible feeling. but jason is unfamiliar with love. in every aspect of it. therefore, he's kind of envious of nick for getting to experience it in any way possible. even if it ripped his heart out in the end.

that's what it kind of felt like when he watched salim walk down that dirt path. maybe not as dramatic, but it certainly left behind an ache in his chest that he can't quite form into words.

". . .there's somethin' about salim," jason speaks after what feels like forever. "even when I was bein' a dick to 'im, he stayed polite and understandin'. . .I've never met anyone with so much patience before. i mean -- fuck, man -- he saved my life. I couldn't let 'im lose his.."

it's nick's turn to stare, and he does just that. if only because it's rare to see jason so calmly emotional. especially given the circumstances.

he opens his mouth as if to say something, but jason continues.

"did ya know 'm gay?"

nick halts for a second time, a clearing of his throat that tumbles into a nervous chuckle. "are you fucking with me? I can't tell if you're fucking with me."

a moment passes. silence again.

"shit, man. . ."

"yeah," jason chortles humorlessly, "kinda ironic, ain't it?" he turns from nick to avoid his gaze, leaning over the loose fence that keeps them close to the shepherd's hut they've just battled viciously in. "s'pposed there were bigger fuckin' problems and better things to worry 'bout than my sexuality."

". . .like salim," nick chimes in, almost visibly connecting the dots.

jason practically freezes where he stands. "he's straight," he assumes hastily, "ain't no way he isn't."

nick arches a brow. "I thought you were straight until now," he counters matter-of-factly.

"that ain't -- " jason cuts himself off, shaking his head, "whatever, man. I'm not tellin' you this so you can play matchmaker, or whatever. the entire thing is unrealistic, and fightin' freaky alien vampires ain't gonna change that. salim is salim, and I'm. . .me. . ."

nick frowns, and genuinely so. he struggles to find something within his brain that'll cheer jason up on the idea. frankly, he's just now facing the reality on how deeply insecure jason kolchek seems to be, perhaps even unknowingly.

"who knows what could happen," he settles on with a shrug, placing a cigarette between his lips even if it remains useless.

"so thats it, then? you aren't going to go after him?"

jason offers a glance through his peripheral before he focuses forward towards the whole lot of nothing that happens in front of them. it's a little surreal, considering what they've just discovered. what they've just fought against.

he pulls his cap from his head, wiping sweat from his brow. "nah. . .maybe. . .I dunno. I don't wanna be the constant reminder of the worst day of his life."

nick's brows grow tight in a judgemental stance. he looks at jason, shaking his head in disapproval. "that's stupid," he retorts, leaning over the fence that creaks just that much more under their shared weight.

jason doesn't respond after that. and nick can pick up on the rather depressing atmosphere that surrounds him. he purses his lips, struggling greatly to let it continue.

". . .so, you like them a bit dangerous?"

"nicky. . ." jason says in warning, face warming for reasons other than the hot, Iraqi sun.

"𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙩 𝙪𝙥, 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚."