#if those movies were good you wouldn’t feel the need to attack every single person who is even indifferent to them

[devilsskettle]

maybe if people stopped defining their identities by what movies they like then they could talk to people who don’t share their interests without feeling attacked by totally innocuous statements of opinion

[blipblooopp]

Let It Be Me

Summary: Choi San is many things. The most talented man you have ever seen. Be it on the dance floor or in front of a mic during a gig. He was the kindest person, always holding the door for the people behind him, helping the elderly carry things, even paying for strangers randomly. He got along famously with your parents and even better with your grandparents. He was charming like that, capturing the attention of anyone and everyone who even looked his way. He’s the love of your life, you’re sure of it but he’s also your best friend. Pairing: Boy Band AU!Choi San x F!Reader Words: 5.6k Genre: Angst/Smut

You’ve heard of a thing called platonic soulmates but it’s taken you years and years of watching Choi San grow to realize you weren’t. Well, you hoped you weren’t. Everything about him made your body erupt into a fire.

San looked at everything with adoration, finding all the good in life, including you. It was a double-edged sword, really. It made you feel special… important. But you could barely concentrate when his eyes were on you.

It didn’t help that he was gifted in pretty much everything; it made you nervous beyond belief. He’s pretty much perfect and as much as you wanted to be with him, you knew the odds of him liking you back were slim to none.

You’ve come to terms with it for the most part. It hurt to see him flirt with girls in front of you, hurt even worse when he started dating this awful girl named Areum. She didn’t give a fuck about him, actually. She barely responded to his calls and texts, going as far as blocking him one time. They fought nonstop. Every time you two hung out, San had a new dilemma to talk about. For some reason, San wouldn’t break up with her.

You had asked him after a night of you two getting drunk together, after another night of listening to his relationship problems. He laughed dryly, taking another sip of his beer, “I love her so much.”

Apparently, it was his “slow-motion” moment. He and his band had been wrapping up the night with their last song, soaking up every second they could have. Halfway through the song, San had noticed Areum in the front row. You were there too so you noticed the look on his face. A look you had never seen him make before. It basically tore your heart out when he told you that he couldn’t get “that beautiful girl” out of his head. She ended up becoming a dedicated face in the crowd so San asked her out.

You would’ve thought they were soulmates from the way they looked in the beginning. Lord only knows how they got to this point. How you got to this point, with San crying in your lap.

It was 10:00 pm when someone started banging on your door. You were enjoying a cup of coffee but you almost had a heart attack at that moment. You opened the door with shaking hands, hoping that whatever killer was on the side wasn’t actually a killer. Instead, you saw your best friend, with swollen red eyes, sniffling.

“Oh my god, San! You scared— what’s wrong?” You immediately dragged him in, locking the door behind you. He sniffled again as he slumped into your couch. You took a seat next to him and took his hand in yours. “Was it another fight?” You knew it wasn’t. In all the fights you had heard, San never cried.

“She was cheating on me… this whole time.” He hiccuped as he talked.

“That bitch.” You said under your breath. You held onto his hand a little tighter, trying to contain your anger.

“I went to her house tonight because she wasn’t responding to me again. I wanted to talk it out with her but she opened her front door in her underwear with some motherfucker sitting on her couch!” Although you had many words to say with Areum, you were speechless in front of San. What were you supposed to say? All you could do was scoot back on the couch and guide San's head onto a pillow in your lap.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You ran your fingers through his hair, “You can cry for as long as you want.”

And cry he did.

____

The next morning was hard. You woke up on your couch sitting up-right with a terrible case of stiff-neck. That’s not the only reason it was hard. No, it was worse seeing San still laying on your lap. He was wide-awake, dark eye bags contrasting against his face. His eyes stared deep into the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about, Sannie?” You started to run your fingers through his hair again and watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his body instantly relaxing.

His eyes opened again, “Why didn’t she love me?” You couldn’t respond, not that he let you. “I knew we weren’t perfect, knew she wasn’t perfect… but we always made it through the end of the day. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“It’s her loss.” You finally said. “You don’t need her anyway. It was her decision to cheat and you had nothing to do with it.”

San didn’t say anything after that, just continued to stare at your ceiling.

___

The first few weeks were the hardest for sure. San had spent most of them at your place, barely leaving even for band practice. When he did practice with the guys he would leave early, only strumming a few chords on his guitar before deciding that it reminded him too much of Areum.

“He’s been really out of it.” Yunho, the bassist commented one time. San hadn’t even played that day. He just sat in the corner for an hour. You stayed behind for a few minutes and told San to wait in the car. You wanted to catch up with the other band members.

“Can you blame him? That bitch was… well, a bitch.” Wooyoung shot back, setting his drum sticks down.

“How has he been holding up?” Hongjoong asked.

You scoffed, “Have you seen the man? I don’t even think San’s there anymore! God, if I see her, it’s on sight!”

You did your best to help him through those weeks. You had been through a few hard breakups in the past so you understood that the early stages were the worst. You even used up all of your sick time to stay home with him. You had never seen him this gloomy. At one point, he went through five pints of ice cream in three days.

____

It took three months for San to be even remotely okay. He started going to practice more and this time, he actually played. You couldn't say you were surprised. San loved playing with the band and you knew it was probably the only thing that would bring him out of his funk.

"You look good, man!" Hongjoong slapped his hand on San's back playfully and for the first time in months, San had his usual dimpled smile.

"I feel good." He replied, setting down his guitar and taking a seat next to you on the beat-up couch. "It's thanks to you, y/n"

Your eyes widened. "Me?"

He nodded. "You stayed up with me, didn't go to work, even made me breakfast when you knew I didn't have the energy to get off your couch."

You couldn't lie; your heart was racing. All you could do was stare back into his eyes with a goofy smile painted on your face. San put his hand on your thigh, skinship being normal between you two, especially within these past months.

Your friendship remained just that, a friendship, for the next month. You were okay with this, though. At least you had a small sliver of hope now that he was single. That tiny bit of hope that he'd love you back was able to tide you over.

Until one night.

San had come over for your weekly movie nights, an event you had been doing since high school but stopped doing because his ex got jealous easily. You tried calming your nerves as you sat next to each other, his arm wrapped around you.

You were so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Maybe it was the fact that he was newly single now, filling up your thoughts even more recently, but his entire presence was overwhelming tonight.

“You alright, beautiful?” Since San was single now, his usual playful flirty side was coming out again. Just like everything else about him, you had a love-hate relationship with it. It doesn't mean anything. You had to remind yourself. He talked like this with everyone, especially when he wanted to get a rise out of his bandmates.

You gulped when you looked up at him. How could a man have this effect on you? You would think that after years of unrequited love, you'd be able to at least contain yourself. “Yeah.”

San gave you a dimpled smile, shifting his gaze to a piece of your hair, moving it behind your ear. Your mouth parts, probably to say something but you can't be too sure right now. If someone walked in, they would think you guys are about to kiss. Maybe you are... you want to kiss him.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you slowly lean forward, keeping your eyes on his lips. They look too good not to look at but you're also scared of seeing the look in his eyes, the potential disgust that might be taking over at the thought of your lips touching his.

Everything is moving in slow motion. From your hand caressing his cheek to the moment your lips make contact. He's stiff against you and you can only imagine that it's because he's uncomfortable. You start to pull away, dreading the awkward conversation you're about to have but San is quick. His hand grips your thigh and he's kissing you back with fervor.

Your head is spinning, Is this really happening? These sparks you're feeling all over your body, does he feel the same way? You push away any thoughts you're having, trying to focus on keeping up with San. You needed to enjoy this moment. Without realizing it, you swing your leg and straddle San's lap. He groans underneath you but before you can question it, he's giving you a reassuring squeeze on your waist.

You don't want to take the initiative of going further, but man, your hands are burning to touch his bare skin. Your hands, instead, rest on his shoulders, gripping and releasing every few seconds. As if he was reading your mind, San's hands move to the hem of your shirt and for the first time, you break the kiss.

The second your shirt passes your head, San's moving to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking to leave hickies that are sure to last a whole week. You're breathless, taking this as a sign to take off San's shirt. Your hands are all over each other, San's going from your cheek to unbuttoning your jeans, your fingers feeling his abs contract under your touch.

It feels like a flash. San suddenly laying you down on your bed, both of your clothes littered behind you on the floor, his lips still on your neck. It's only when he's about to insert himself does he stop and look at you with dark eyes. He doesn't give you enough time to question it, pushing himself inside you. You both gasp at the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so tight!" He grips your hip with one hand, the other holding the headboard like his life depends on it. He feels like he'll burst any second.

You're right there with him though, the mere feelings of this moment making you sensitive. "You're just big. Holy shit!"

It takes him a second, taking a moment to give both of you a moment to adjust before he moves inside you. You can't contain the sounds coming out of you as he hits all the right spots with ease. You couldn't have pegged San to have this big of a dick, yet here he was.

Before you can realize it, your hands are finding purchase on his back and your nails are sinking into his skin. He hisses above you but his thrusts get harsher and the moaning in your ear doesn't get any quieter.

"You feel so good... so warm and tight for me." He's practically whimpering into your neck. You try to keep your cool, trying not to cum so fast but he's hitting that spot inside you with ease.

Your nails dig into him deeper, "S-san," You stutter out. "Close... so close."

"I know... but you gotta wait for me. Can you do that?" His thrusts get faster and deeper, you don't even comprehend his words properly.

"Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a good girl for me?" He's using both hands to clench onto the headboard now, the force making it harder to not cum. You just nod and wrap your legs around his waist. San is drilling into you with so much force and he's hoping that the bed isn't going to break. After a few more thrusts, he starts to get sloppy, and your vision's crossing.

"Alright, beautiful. Cum for me." He grunts out, trying not to cum at the feeling of you clenching around him. You finally let the waves of pleasure course through you, seeing stars. If you were lucid, you most definitely would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of your mouth and your pussy.

With a loud sigh, San pulls out of you and releases onto your stomach. Almost immediately, he’s up and cleaning you, you’re body’s too tired to do anything but lay there. You’re surprised, because instead of leaving, San lays next to you, even going as far as pulling you close to him.

You have so much on your mind but you're too tired now.

____

This goes on for weeks. Sometimes you would hang out. Sometimes do other things. Everything happened so fast. The friendship that you held so dear had become a muddled mess of lust and confusion. You obviously still had feelings for San but you had no idea where he stood.

You'd never even talked about the first time you guys had sex. When you woke up he was gone and when you saw each other again, he acted like nothing had happened. You didn't want to be that clingy girl who expected a relationship so you never brought it up. Now you're in this endless cycle of sleeping with each other and never addressing the elephant in the room.

What didn't help was how San was acting differently. He was much more touchy with you, always having to touch you in some way whenever you were together. His hand on your thigh, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, he did it all. Before the incident, you would have considered him touchy but that's nothing compared to him now.

Your hangouts started to become more elaborate as well. You guys were actually going out to movies instead of watching Netflix at your house. Small coffee shop hangouts started becoming intimate dinners. It was like you guys were dating. These dates gave you hope that he would eventually open up and ask you out properly but you didn't want to force it out of him. So, you just decided to go with whatever he wanted.

"Let's go ice-skating." The handsome man suggested his left-hand steering and his right hand on your thigh.

"You know I can't ice-skate." You deadpan, getting distracted by your fingers playing with his.

He glances at you with a honey-sweet smile before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I can teach you, ya know."

"Please, you just want to see me fall so you can laugh at me."

"That too."

San taught you how to ice-skate for maybe ten minutes. After that, he decided that it would be best to let you learn through trial and error.

"San, I'm literally gonna fall on my face!" You cried, your legs shaking as you attempted to walk on the ice.

"You're doing great. Just try skating to me." He held out his hand for you. Every time you got even remotely close to him, however, he would slowly start backing up. You were struggling around the rink but he made sure to sprinkle in encouragements so you wouldn't be too mad at him.

Just when you thought you were doing good, you got too cocky and propelled yourself towards San, wanting so desperately to close that gap. Your feet weren't pointed straight enough causing your left skate to hit your right, tripping you onto the ice.

"Holy shit, y/n! Are you alright?" San appears in front of you with seconds. Helping you up with ease. Your knees ache and you could feel the bruise forming on your hip.

“Did you not see me eat shit?” You bark out, now gripping his arm for dead life.

“I did but it’s always polite to ask.” You slap his arm playfully as he guides you off the ice and onto the benches. “Are you actually okay?”

You shook your head and pouted like a child. San chuckled to himself, seeing right through you. Instead of saying anything, he pecked your lips innocently and took a seat next to you. It was the first time he’s kissed you in public which only confused you further. Is he doing this on purpose? You really had to ask him.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to see San staring at you. It’s not until he’s moving a piece of hair out of your face that you’re snapped out of your thoughts. You jolt slightly and hum at him in response. He just shakes his head and returns his gaze to the people skating.

It was your turn to stare at him, to memorize his features for the nth time. He’s just as beautiful as he was two seconds ago and the butterflies are still strong. You open your mouth to question him about your relationship, finally building up the courage just when…—

“San? Is that you?” You freeze. Her, you think. That manipulative bitch.

“Areum?” San stands as if he’s been caught doing something bad like a child. She offers him a warm smile, completely disregarding you as always. You feel like you did during the concert. His eyes are no longer on you… but trained on her. You feel that distance he created on the ice growing bigger and bigger.

“What’re you doing here?” The man asks, still shocked to see her.

“Ah, I was just walking around.” The nerve of this girl to act like she didn’t do anything wrong. “What’re you doing here?” Her eyes land on you but she quickly looks back at him.

You stand this time. “We’re…” Don’t say it. Don’t be petty. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “On a date.” You entwine your arm with San’s.

Areum’s lip twitches in annoyance. “Oh?” She quirks a brow and glances at San. “Is this true?”

San freaks out without thinking and shakes his arm from yours. “No!— I mean like a friendly date, sure. We’re just hanging out like old times.”

There’s your answer.

His ex smiles with victory at your defeated state. “Well, we should catch up, San. I know we ended things on a bad note but I think we should talk.”

The car ride home was awfully silent. Usually, they were filled with laughter and off-key singing but tonight, you gave San short answers in his poor attempt to talk. When you entered your apartment, you told him you were going to bed early and that he should lock up when he leaves.

Instead, you feel his warm body climb into your bed and hold you at 12 am. As always, you didn’t tell him to leave. Because, as always, you couldn’t say no to Choi San.

____

You wake up and San's not next to you but there is a text.

San : Sorry I didn't want to wake you but I left to go to practice. It'll probably end late today so if you feel up to it, come hang out. :)

Should you? Maybe it's just better if you pretend like nothing happened. Obviously, that's what he's doing. Besides, it’s not like his bandmates gave you false hope just to reject you in front of their ex. You end up going to the practice, a huge lump in your throat. If you brought up the situation, you're sure that whatever you guys had would be over the second you said anything.

Jongho, the lead singer, greets you with a smile and a nod in your direction as he warms up.

"y/n!" Wooyoung calls out, getting off of his drum stool and engulfing you in a hug.

You giggle on command, loving his enthusiasm. “Wooyoung, why do you always act like we haven’t seen each other for years!”

He smiles and whispers, “Don’t tell the guys I told you, but you’re like… our muse!”

You roll your eyes and pull away from his chest just to look at him, “I think you’re the only one crazy enough to even consider that.”

Wooyoung lets you go completely and returns to his drum set, you follow suit. “Maybe but you’ve been our number one supporter since day one! Plus you’re beautiful and beauty inspires art, does it not?”

Laughter erupts from you again at his cheesiness and your feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the signature cologne giving him away.

“What’s so funny?” San’s smiling but you can tell there’s something different in his tone.

“Just exposing how important y/n is to the band.” Wooyoung sends you a playful wink, your cheeks burning slightly. San forces a laugh, something you don’t notice, before sitting you down on the couch.

After practice was over, you waited outside of the room for San so you could go back to your place. That wasn't the original plan but San insisted. The chilly air made you wrap your arms around yourself, internally scolding yourself over not bringing a jacket.

Wooyoung was the first to come out, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He wasn't the only cigarette smoker in the group but he was definitely the one that smoked the most. He grinned at the sight of you, resting his hand in his pocket instead.

"Why're you waiting out here? It's cold as hell."

"Yeah... But I didn't want to get in your guys' way." You rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to create heat. Wooyoung took off his jacket and wrapped it around you without hesitation. "A true gentleman." You remarked.

He put his hand on his chest, his face contorting to look hurt. "I've always been a gentleman. Even when I'm freezing my ass off."

Your eyes widened, ready to give the jacket back. "Woah there, missy. I gave it to you for a reason. We don't want our muse to die of hypothermia." The joke makes you laugh lightly. "You waiting on San?"

You nod, staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “It’s been a lot of waiting recently.” You accidentally confess.

“Uh oh.” He leans against the wall. "I noticed something was different."

"What do you mean?" You hear your heartbeat through your ears and you find it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"You guys are a lot closer... You guys are best friends, sure, but the air's been different between you two. He still doesn't notice how you look at him."

You scoff, "That obvious, huh?"

"To everyone but him, it seems. Can I be honest?" Wooyoung rolls to face you. You nod, now looking at him. "Unless you tell him how you feel, you'll be doing nothing but waiting on him."

"But our friendship-"

"If you're about to tell me that it's enough for you, so help me God, y/n, I will kick your ass." You laugh for the first time since the conversation started. You understand what you have to do. You guys have already crossed so many boundaries and clearly, he feels something for you, right?

The door to the practice room swings open and this time it's Yeosang and San. San's bright smile seems to falter as his eyes instantly land on the jacket that's wrapped around you. His eyes shift between you and the drummer then he strides to you, grabbing your wrist.

"Let's go?" You don't have time to answer. San's practically ripping the jacket off of you and throwing it at Wooyoung who barely catches it. This time, you don't miss the change in his tone. He replaces Wooyoung's jacket with his hoodie, not saying a word as he puts it on you.

Just like the night before, the tension in the car is thick but unlike last night, it's you who's trying to spark a conversation. San's knuckles are turning white as he drives and it's starting to worry you. You've never seen San this upset before and you're still trying to place the reasoning. Was it jealousy?

You pull up to the house, expecting him to follow you like he always does but he doesn't. Instead, he leaves the engine running and his eyes on the street. For some reason, this sets you off. This man had the audacity to pull away from you, act like you were just a friend in front of the ex that cheated on him, but gets jealous over you casually talking to another guy?

You scoff and unbuckle your seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut. San was feeling extra temperamental tonight. He couldn't understand why he felt like this either. Maybe he was looking for a fight. He turned off the engine and followed you inside. Before you could close and lock the door, he stepped into your house.

"What is your problem?" You asked venomously.

"What is your problem?"

"I didn't have any problem until you decided to get all confusing!" You dropped your tote bag on the floor, turning to face him fully.

"I'm confusing? Are kidding me?" He huffs out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Actually, I'm not. You've been driving me nuts since we started hooking up. I'm over it!" His lip twitches into a sarcastic smile. "What the fuck was that with your ex? You completely pushed me aside. She treated you like shit, remember? She cheated, she lied, and she manipulated you. Do you want to get back to-"

"You're not my girlfriend, y/n!" He cut you off. "God, it's like you don't know your place." Tears pricked your eyes but you felt more angry than sad. Angry, you've never felt this way with San before. You're experiencing a lot of firsts tonight. San immediately realizes what he said, how hurt you were. He took a step closer to you but you put up your hands, putting up your boundaries for the first time.

"No, you're right. It's not like you hold my hand wherever we go or put your hands on my waist in public. You don't smile at me sweetly during dates. We're not completely vulnerable with each other, telling each other things we'd never breathe to others. It's not like we fuck almost every day! Do friends do what we do? Please, enlighten me. What's my place?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have-" You're full-on bawling now, sucking in breaths where you can.

"I can't believe I've loved you for so long. I've torn my heart out for you and you just... you just throw it back at me like it's nothing!" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, instead he wraps his arms around you. You react once you feel him, trying to fight him off but he's stronger, trying to calm you down by hugging you.

You're screaming, all the feelings you've held inside bursting out of you, "Why can't you let me in?" You start to pound on your chest even though you know you shouldn't. You don't even notice that he's crying too. "Why can't it be me for once? Let it be me!"

"I'm sorry," He coos. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your feelings making it hard to focus. San catches you though, guiding you to sit on the floor.

San does his best to understand what you're saying through your sobs. He wants to understand what he's feeling. He thought he was doing this to get over Areum but why was he doing all the other things? He could've just stuck to the bare minimum but he didn't. Better question, how had he not noticed your feelings?

San was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed you had cried yourself to sleep. He was holding your head to his chest and he sighed, finally relaxing a bit. He couldn't really relax though, his mind still processing what you had said. He carried you bridal style to your room and thanking God that you had exhausted yourself.

San tucked you in and, after some hard debating, decided to lay in bed with you. He made sure that he wasn't touching you even though he knew he was going to leave before you woke up. He sighed to himself.

Even as you slept you were beautiful and he beat himself up for only now noticing how exhausted you looked. The man never understood why he was so willing and ready to sleep with you. He could acknowledge that there was steaming sexual tension but he never thought it would get this far. Nevertheless, you guys were in this situation; the very foggy area between friends and more.

Is this how you felt, absolutely terrified? You guys certainly couldn't go back to being friends after everything that's happened between you two. San's body started to shake as he silently cried. He couldn't even comprehend how much pain he's put you through these last few months.

____

You're not surprised to find your bed empty the next day; you wouldn't be surprised if San had sent you a message ending your friendship and promptly blocking you. You stare at your ceiling with tears already prickling your eyes. You weren't going to check your phone for texts. You just went to work.

The day went by fast, your boss giving you plenty of work to distract yourself. You were doing just fine until you pulled up to your apartment to find Wooyoung waiting to knock on your door.

"Wooyoung?" The man turned around, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Oh- Hey!" He quickly put his hands in his jean pockets. You walked to your door silently, unlocking the front door and inviting him in.

“What can I help you with?” You try to be casual even though all you’re thinking about is San and how you know Wooyoung’s here to soothe whatever problem you guys are having.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase. Talk to San. It’s only been a day of you two fighting and all of us are tired of him sulking.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“He came into practice looking all down and he didn’t talk to any of us. He just went through practice barely saying ten words throughout the whole thing.”

"How do you know this has something to do with me?"

“… Do I look blind to you? Everyone knows something’s going on between you two.” Wooyoung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure it was probably his fault. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away but just talk to him. Please?”

——

So now, here you are, outside his door. You took in a deep breath before knocking hard on his door. You couldn’t muster the courage to ask if he was home but there was no practice so you hoped for the best.

The door unlocked within a few minutes. “y/n?”

“H-Hi,” You stuttered out, feeling the weight on your shoulders get heavier. “Can I come in?”

San gestures you inside and you take a seat on his couch. There’s an awkward silence when he joins you and you can’t recall any other time it’s been like this. It was so easy to talk to San before but now you can’t even form a sentence.

“So—“

“What’d—“

You said at the same time.

“You first.” San breathed.

“I just figured we had a lot to talk about.”

"Right..." He brushed off his legs with a sigh.

"I like you, San- actually, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long and we slept together and it got messy. We've never talked about what we were after that night. You just made me a rebound and I turned the other way..."

His eyes burnt into your face and you were too scared to meet them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in that kind of situation. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I didn't think about the way you were feeling."

San's warm hand grabs yours. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to see how you feel about me. I'm so sorry I said that you didn't know where your place was. Your place..." He takes a big deep breath, making you look at him, "Your place is right next to me. I lost you for one day and in that one day, I've realized what you really mean to me. I'm in love with you, y/n."

He places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even notice. You're falling apart at his touch but you were so happy that he felt the same way and- Oh my god! Choi San was in love with you!

"You just said you were in love with me." You breathed, a smile breaking out on your lips.

"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles, closing the distance between your faces. Your breath hitches. "Are you going to give me a chance to love you for real this time?"

Your heart is going to burst and you don't really give it much thought.

"Yes."

[kanene-yaaay]

Secret Santa and new traditions

Warnings: I didn’t proofreaded it yet, so I believe it can get a bit confusing in some parts. Execpt for AizawaxYamada, all the relationships are platonic. Found Family. Ler!Kirishima and Lee!Eri. V brief Ler!Yamada and Ler!Aizawa. Raspberries. Brief angst. All the comfort. Domestic Fluff. Family Fluff. Around 2.000 words

Kanene’s notes: Haaaaappy dayyy @made-by-jade-222! Here is my part of our lovely Secret Santa and I hope you really like it! Also, I know, it’s long but look sdfghjsdfgh first I wanted to make it long because you wrote TWO fics intead of one so you def deserve something v nice and then I got carried away sdfghwqwertert. Well, I still hope it’s enjoyable!

[~*~]

Before, Eri thought that happiness was a dream.

During her darkest days, she remembers imagining about love and care and the warmth that came with those. However, not even years and years of daydreaming could prepare her for the true sea of good feelings that having a family, a true family would bring her.

That love felt like a buzzing, a great electric sensation that made her fingertips twitch on her new clothes (which she chosen, after some gentle prodding and encouraging nods, in a mall trip especially for the occasion) legs swinging on her chair, eyes firmly clued on her Papa’s expression, his gigantic smile, as he opened his gift, with a calm and patience that made her breath hitch in expectation.

Usually, she wouldn’t be so energetic, much more full of small smiles and watching gleamy eyes, but today was special. Just like his Dad explained to her, today they were celebrating, which she came to learn that it meant having nice meals together, sleepovers full of movies and candies and gifts too. It wasn’t like birthdays, though, today was Christmas Eve, what meant that not only one person would be receiving a gift but all the people she loved.

(And here, presents were something special, too. They indicated thinking, caring about the person you gave them to)

And she could be the one giving them. She could be the one giving her love to them.

(There was also a guy called Santa Claus, who gave presents too, but she didn’t trust him.)

So, she was very, very, very excited now. They were exchanging secret presents and Papa was taking forever to see his.

“Yamada-sensei!! Just open it already!” Kirishima groaned when the Voice Hero stopped tearing the shiny red paper of his gift only to shake the dark gray box underneath it with a teasy smile and an exaggerated ‘oooooh, I wonder what is insideeee~’ for the third time. “At this rate we are going to be all old and grumpy when you finally open the box.”

Eri allowed her gaze to travel to Kirishima, who winked at her playfully, showing he wasn’t actually annoyed, letting out a giggle when said yelped at Aizawa and Yamada’s synchronized prodding at his side, squeaking a protest.

Eri was glad he was there. His hair was read just like her and Dad’s eyes, and, even if it took a lot of time for her to gather enough courage to invite him to her special day, she couldn’t help but feel more relaxed about her beaming and more frequent smiles when he laughed so easily and beamed right back at her, even more excited with the Secret Santa.

“No ‘sensei’ outside the dorms and classes, remember, Kirishima?” Hizashi tweaked his nose playfully before finally giving in and opening the box without any more dramatics. He gasped loudly, pulling a few pieces of paper from the dozen ones that filled the box with a distant looking gaze. “Affection tickets?” His eyes bounced from one sentence to another, smile getting bigger and bigger at every single hand made ‘Free Hug’, ‘Free Kiss Attack’ and ‘Free Massage’. His heart melted a bit. “I haven’t seen one of these since high school. Thank you.”

The last part of his sentence was carefully directed to Shouta, who hid his blush behind the camera he used to record and eternalize the moment, ignoring Kirishima’s ‘awwww’ at them. He knew how hard it could be to talk about your needs, and even if they needed to always try to be more open about their feelings, it was nice to have a way to say what they wanted without words.

“I helped Daddy to make those!”

“You did?” Kirishima said, taking a ‘Free Dance’ coupon with cat paws and little stars drawn on it to analyze while Hizashi was too much occupied with his victory dance. He turned at her with a warm grin. “Those drawings are yours, Eri? They’re  amazing!”

She ducked her head, softly whispering a ‘thank you’ before her attention being caught by Hizashi’s happy “I knew it! I guess this is a win for me.”

“It’s not like I was trying to be secretive about it.” Aizawa rolled his eyes fondly at his husband’s attics, pausing his video and passing the device to Hizashi as he standed, walking to the small pile of gifts in the corner of their dining table, pretending he wasn’t grinning at Hizashi’s thankful forehead kiss. 

“Why did Papa win?” Eri seemed momentarially torn between watching Shouta opening his own gift and looking at Kirishima before deciding to stare confusily at the red haired boy, her head twitching slightly. “We are playing a game?”

“Sort of?” Eijirou tilted his head back, his finger scratching his cheek. "Technically, in Secret Santa we were supposed to try to guess who gave our gift at the end, after everyone had already opened theirs. If you guess who gave yours right it’s a win, even if there is no prize in the end, but it’s always fun to try to get it right!”

Kirishima expected a lot of things with his answer, but not the fearful eyes that found his, Eri’s tune being lower than previously when she answered him. “Did I make Daddy lose?”

“No, no. I never cared about winning this game, anyway.” Aizawa, who had been watching this exchange closely, laid his present on the tabletop, voice soft as he crouched to be in Eri’s gaze level, holding her hands when they started to turn into tight closed fists and squeezing them reassuringly.

“Yeah.” Hizashi agreed, also stepping close, showing her a reassuring smile when she turned his way. “Your daddy never really tried to really hide who he got on Secret Santa, but see this way! Now that I know who gave me my present I can be sure to attack the right person with butterfly kisses! Otherwise I would have to give everyone all the tickly kisses and big hugs until I discovered who got me, right Shou?.”

“Of course.” Aizawa locked his gaze with his partner, having a silent conversation with him before directing his attention back to the small kid. “However, now that he discovered that I got the help of a very nice girl, we will have to share his ‘thank you’.”

Eri only stared at him and then Yamada, confusion still lingering on her face.

“Yes, yes!” Hizashi was quick to take over the conversation, slowly lowering himself to carry their daughter, giving her plenty of time to protest or squirm away, and trying to not coo out loud when understanding filled her expression and she looked at him expectantly. He snuggled her close, resting three kisses on her right cheek, each one followed with a loud, dramatic ‘mwah!’ “And, you know,” He winked at her. “I think I am not the only one who wants to say thank you here…”

A smile escaped her lips when Shouta placed a quick kiss on her right cheek together with a small raspberry.

Kirishima chuckled quietly behind his phone, glad he was able to capture such a cute moment on camera. The gift exchange followed smoothly after that, however, the future hero couldn’t help but notice how Eri, even if much lighter than the moment of the ‘accident’, was still subdued, much quieter and smiley-er than previously.

And, maybe it was only his older brother instincts kicking, but he was going to change that. Eri deserved to feel happy and safe on this day, and he already had a plan to cheer her up, thanks to Hizashi.

He couldn’t help the bounce that took over his frame as he stared at the colorful, well thought and handmade card on his hands where the words “Mainly Hero” shone, his eyes tearing up a bit when he saw a drawing of him, Red Riot, in his hero’s clothes. 

“So pretty and mainly!” He cried, proudly showing the present to Aizawa when he asked to see it closer.

“Right!” Hizashi clapped, claiming the attention of everyone in the room. “It’s dessert time so, Shou, dear, can you please set up the movies?”

The one being called nodded, already heading to the living room as the blonde walked in the kitchen’s direction.

It was his moment, now.

“Eri, pssst, Eri!”

She turned to him, blinking.

“I need your help.”

That got a stronger reaction from her, who scampered out of her chair and got closer to him, eager to be a hero to her heroes. 

“So cute!” Kirishima cried internally. 

“Are you hurt, Eijirou?” 

“No, no!” He quickly shook his hands in dismissal, trying to dissipate the worry in her gaze. “I actually need your help for a very important mission.” He lowered himself, whispering. “I need to discover who was the amazing person who was my Secret Santa to give them all my thanks! They gave me a really nice gift, you know? I would love to have her, uh, I mean, them! To sign up my card so I can hang it on my room’s wall and never forget their kindness.”

“You… you want to hang it in your room?”

“Of course! Such a great gift should never be hidden. I want to cherish it forever!”

She ducked her head and played with the rem of her shirt, proudness blossoming on her chest. She was happy Kirishima liked it. Very happy. Telling him it was her who did it would be safe, she decided, but she couldn’t help the light anxiety she felt.

“I was thinking,” Eijirou’s tune was softer now, his eyes dancing across the house, looking from the living room to the kitchen. “You know that family a lot, don’t you? Maybe you can help me to solve this mystery?”

He smiled at her. She decided he was safe. She nodded with resolution.

“It was me.”

“You?!” Eijirou gasped and then beamed, as if nothing in the world could make him happier in that moment. “You are my secret santa?! Eri, that is so amazing!” He hugged her, who eagerly returned the gesture, giggling happily, legs kicking when he got up and spun with joy. “Eri! That means now I can give you all my thank you tickles!”

“Tickles?” She stared at him with a shiny in her eyes, a hint of a squeal on her voice. 

“And raspberries too.” He nodded seriously. “It’s the tradition, you know. Just like Hizashi-san has his thank you butterfly kisses, I have my thank you tickly-tickles!” He adjusted his grip on her so he could free his hand, teasily wiggling his fingers at her. “Full of silly wiggly wiggles and scribbly scribbles!”

She squealed and hid her face on his neck, a couple of titters escaping and slightly tickling his neck. Oh well, he could endure a few tickles if that meant keeping such a joyful expression on his little sister. Then, he attacked, being careful as his fingers scratched her ribs, prodding and poking every single one before worming his hand under her armpit, fishing louder laughter.

“Kirihihihihihi!” She kicked her legs, squirming happily around. “Ahahahaha! It tihihihickles!”

“Yes, it does! That is why they’re called Thank You Tickles. You have such wonderful giggles, Eri-chan!” After a couple of minutes, he decided to give her a breather, changing his attacks to lightly tickle her neck, leading a sea of titters to fill the room. "Thank you for making my gift, I loved, loved, loved it!” At each word he gave her side a small, quick squeeze. 

“Yohohohoou’re welcome! Ehehehe!”

Kirishima chuckled as he waited a couple of minutes for the uncontrollable giggles to end, which took way longer than the normal because, everytime their eyes locked together, he insisted on making a silly face, starting all the laughter again.

“No more silly faces!!” She pushed his face away, hiding her own on his chest, and how could he ever say no to this?

“No more silly faces, I promise.” He agreed, finally letting their laughter disappear. 

Then his eyes got a dangerous gleam.

“Do you want to know how much I love your gift?”

Eri, the pure, innocent angel, beamed and nodded.

“Thiiiiiiiiiiiiis amount!!!” He took the biggest breath he could muster, lowering his head and delivering a gigantic raspberry on her tummy. For the next few seconds, only squeals, belly laughter and snorts could be heard in the house.

After such an attack, Kirishima snuggled her close, hugging and slightly swaying her body from a side to another as her remaining giggles hit his neck and her arms returned his embrace, the incident completely forgotten.

“Love you, lil sis.”

“Love you too, Eiji.”

When Kirishima opened his eyes, he couldn’t help the light blush that covered his cheeks as he noticed Aizawa and Hizashi’s grin, the latter proudly holding his phone, probably adding a new video to the gallery.

“Noooo.” He half-heartedly complained, lowering Eri on the ground, who immediately ran to her Papa to tell how much Kirishima liked her gift.

That way, with both occupied in their conversation, Kirishima was left alone to notice the exact moment Aizawa’s fond gaze turned into something much more playful and dangerous.

“Thank you tickles? Now, that is a very interesting tradition to discover.” Suddenly, shivers were running across the red haired boy's spine, adrenaline filling his veins. “Especially considering you were my Secret Santa.”

Kirishima turned around and ran.

[rose2jam]

Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult, an essay by Rose Jam

So, let’s talk about Cults. Disclaimer: This is just information I’ve gathered over the years from my personal fascination with religious cults.  I’m in no way an expert or a psychologist or whatever.  This is just my personal understanding from the research I’ve done.

A cult is started when a wildly charismatic Leader feels like they have a purpose, a higher calling, or a mission to be fulfilled (or they could also just be an egomaniac). Maybe they really do feel like what makes them special comes directly from a higher power, be that God, or the Heir of Slytherin, but either way, this person has a pathological need to be worshiped, and they need followers in order to do that.  

So, how does one obtain Followers easily? By finding the misunderstood misfits of society, and promising them something.  The people who feel like no one else understands them, or their ideologies.  But this Leader?  This Leader GETS IT, MAN! The Leader understands them perfectly, vindicates them, and makes them promises along the way.  Like, if they stick with the Leader, then not only will they finally be understood, but they themselves will also be revered.  That they will rise above all of the others who have put them down for so long, and will come out on top as a superior being.  

Any of this sounding familiar?

Charles Manson preyed on young people in the middle of the hippie movement, mostly women, who were feeling lost, lonely, and in need of guidance, or in terms of the men he recruited, seeking power over others.  Not all of these people were poor or helpless; some of them came from middle class, or even rich homes and families.  Yes, some of them came from broken homes, but all of them felt “broken” themselves, in some way. So Manson used their desires to have a family to draw them in.  He then used LSD and other drugs to keep them under his control, and he created a manipulative environment where the members of his “family” felt they could never leave him, and if they didn’t follow his commands, something horrible would happen to them.  I’m not going to go into full detail on the Manson Family Murders, but if you’re personally interested, check out the Podcast “Cults” on Spotify.

So back to basics, this Leader draws in Followers with flowery promises of community, power, family, or whatever.  But once the Leader has that following, the terror will begin.  Cult Leaders are usually master manipulators, and have completely brainwashed their followers into believing the “us vs them” mentality, that the outside world is evil, that the outside world will only harm them, that the outside world would never understand what they’re doing on the inside.  And that the Leader is the only one who knows the truth, so they better stick with him.  Or maybe the Leader has gaslit his followers so completely, that they become dependent on him for everything, to the point where they don’t know how they would possibly function without the Leader.  Or, the Leader has created an environment that’s so hostile, that Followers are too afraid of what might happen to them if they tried to leave, or didn’t do what the Leader commanded.  Typically, it’s a combination of all of the above.  Destructive cults will either hurt others outside of their circle (The Manson Family, Sect of Nacozari), harm themselves (Heaven’s Gate, The Ant Hill Kids), or both (The People’s Temple, Aum Sinrikyo).  

Now that I’ve laid this foundation, I’m going to tell you why it was practically inevitable that Severus Snape would join a cult.

Snape’s childhood ultimately laid the foundation for the mental state he would be in when he decided to join the Death Eaters.  He grew up in an abusive household, where his father, the muggle, had his magical wife so thoroughly whipped, that she couldn’t (or chose not to) use magic to defend herself, or her son (1).  Eileen had obviously told Severus about magic, about Hogwarts, about what a wonderful place it was, and what a wonderful gift magic could be.  Severus also watched as Tobias beat the magic out of her.  (I know it’s debated whether Tobias actually physically abused his family, but he certainly verbally/mentally/emotionally abused them, so the term “beat” could be used figuratively as well).  I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe that Severus developed an extreme hatred of muggles with “burn the witch” mentalities from a very young age because of this.

Enter Lily, perhaps the only other magical person in his life besides his mother up to this point. He sees her using magic out in the open, perhaps recklessly, for fun, and he sees an opportunity to make a friend (and, admittedly, to be smarter than someone about something for a while). He was so eager to tell her all about magic, because getting to learn magic, and go to Hogwarts, has possibly been the only thing keeping him going in his young life.  And now he’s made a friend, a real friend who doesn’t think he’s weird because he’s magical.  Unlike Petunia, yet another muggle who makes fun of him for being weird (2). And Lily actually seems to like him back.  For a kid who probably hasn’t received a lot of affection in his life, this is monumental.  This friendship is everything.  Why wouldn’t he love her?

So the time finally comes to go to Hogwarts.  Severus gets to escape his abusive household, and finally has an opportunity to embrace magic for the first time in his life.  But almost immediately, he’s met with a hic-up.  Specifically, James Potter and Sirius Black.  So Severus is no longer facing abuse exclusively from muggles who think he’s weird, but now he’s also getting it from other magical people who think he’s weird (3).  And this started on the fucking TRAIN before he even GOT to Hogwarts. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t sour a kids dream right off the fucking bat.  And then, when he finally gets there, he’s separated from his only friend, by being sorted into different houses (4).  What a way for a life-long dream to be thoroughly dashed in less than 24 hours.

Let’s look at Snape’s Hogwarts experience.  He’s a good student, and he pours himself into learning as much magic as possible, and at being the best he can possibly be, probably motivated by a desire to be better than what his Father thinks possible.  During this time, he is regularly bullied and abused by the Marauders. Sometime before his 5th year, the Incident at the Shrieking Shack took place.  It definitely sucks to have been so thoroughly fucking duped, and put into a life-threatening situation involving a goddamn werewolf (5).  But perhaps even worse than that, the salt in the wound, was that no one fucking did anything about it (6).  He saw Sirius and James and Remus get out of that situation without facing any sort of proper punishment (as in, they all still stayed at the school as opposed to being expelled like they DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE BEEN (At least Sirius should have been)). Dumbledore was looking out for the Marauders, but no one was looking out for Severus.  On top of that, Severus isn’t allowed to TELL anyone about it, not even Lily.  So, he goes through what was possibly one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, and he can’t even tell anyone that it happened.

So, what sort of support system does Severus have during all this?  He has Lily, sure (who literally told him he should be GRATEFUL to James, one of his abusers).  But, what he really has, is Slytherin House (7). I’ll say it plainly: Severus was sorted into a house that was already full of existing cult members.  McGonagall says in Sorcerer’s Stone that “Your house will be like your family” (she at least says it in the movies, I’m too lazy to get up and reference my books rn lol).  So, Severus’ family, his support system, for 10 months out of every year, is a house that is already full to the brim with pureblood elitists with prejudiced ideals, who would absolutely vindicate Severus in his dislike for muggles.  As a kid first getting sorted into the house, it’s obviously not unreasonable to become friends with the people you’re literally living with.  His dorm mates became his family.  So, when his dorm mates started to become Death Eaters… This is headcanon, I fully admit, but like, fuck, Severus didn’t have a lot of friends, and was probably already drifting apart from Lily.  Do you really think he was going to tell the people he had to live with every single day, not to mention the only people that had been supporting him for years, to go fuck themselves for using Dark Magic?  Especially when he was probably feeling like he was on the verge of thinking that their rhetoric made some sense?

On to Snape’s Worst Memory (8).  At this point, he’s spent 5 years in Slytherin House, with fellow students who casually throw around the M word.  He gets attacked by James and Sirius, he’s practically defenseless, and then the girl who he’d considered his closest friend for so long… has to force herself not to smile when he’s thrown upside down and exposed to everyone on the grounds.  Sure, she was trying to defend him at first, but she also fucking nearly smiled at his humiliation, his pain, his abuse.  So he hurls the one word that he knows is going to cut the deepest, that will hopefully hurt her as badly as she has hurt him. And it works.

Severus had been beaten down his entire life.  By Muggles and Magic Folk alike.  And finally, he’s betrayed by Lily, his last lifeline to the light.  He betrayed her as well, of course.  But he did try to show remorse.  And she doesn’t forgive him (9), which was her prerogative, of course.  

So.  Who does he have left?

I’ve placed little (numbers) throughout my writing here.  Each of those numbers denote the specific events that led Severus to becoming an angry young man, who hates muggles, hates (some) magic folk, and resulted in him feeling weak, helpless, and desperate.  For what?  For power, for a family, for a community.  For a world where he is no longer the weird one.  For a world where he’s respected, strong.  For the world he thought he was going to be a part of, when he arrived at Hogwarts in his first year.

And it just so happens that this is the exact world that Voldemort is (allegedly) trying to create.

Severus Snape was angry, and vulnerable, and as such, he was practically the poster child for the type of person who would be susceptible to falling for a cult.  Maybe he was recruited by his friends in Slytherin House.  Maybe he was recruited directly.  Either way, charismatic Tom Riddle came along, understood how he felt, where he was coming from, told him he deserved better, and offered him all of the things he never had in his life.  And being at rock bottom, being the lowest of the low, to Severus it must have seemed like a miracle of an opportunity, or perhaps, like the only chance he had left.

Now, let me be extremely clear; everything I’ve written is not trying to EXCUSE Severus Snape for his actions.  There is always a point where personal responsibility must come into play.  Except for children born into cults or victims of kidnapping, nearly every person who has ever joined a cult has made the personal decision to join it. I’m just trying to express how unbelievably easy it is, for a Cult Leader to find people with damaged lives and low self-worth, to suck them in with promises of a fulfilling life and grandeur, and for those people to be easily swept up and brainwashed into believing that what they are doing is right.  (Or that what they are doing is required, because the alternative is more horrifying.)  

The type of people who joined the Death Eaters are the same type of people who joined Heaven’s Gate, or The People’s Temple, or yes, The Manson Family.  Now, I’m just going to say, from my own personal point of view, I do not vilify anyone who’s ever joined a destructive cult.  On the contrary, I feel sorry for them.  Because most people who join a cult, don’t necessarily do it signing up for the… end result of what happened to them.  Some of them totally do, like Heaven’s Gate. Most of them knew that the end result was going to be the “evacuation of their earthly vessel”.  But the people who joined the Manson Family, for instance, did not initially join it KNOWING how it was going to end.  They were part of the family long before Manson even came up with Helter Skelter, and by the time the Tate-LaBianca Murders took place, they were already too far gone to go against it.

I highly recommend anyone who’s interested in a humanizing view of former cult members, to read the essay “Leslie Van Houten: A Friendship” by John Waters. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/leslie-van-houten-a-frien_b_246953

Or, at the very least, listen to this 7 minute NPR interview with John Waters about the essay https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111585116

It’s the story of how notorious film maker John Waters, became friends with former Manson Girl, Leslie Van Houten, and about how she broke away from the cult after her conviction, how she’s spent the last 51 years of her life recovering from the psychotic influence of a maniac who’d promised her the world, and how even though she was convicted to life WITH a possibility of parole, it’s never been granted to her, despite the fact that she has done literally everything possible to try and atone for her crimes.

Maybe I’m just a bleeding heart.  I’m pretty much the only person I know who feels sorry for Leslie Van Houten and other cult members who were brainwashed, abused, and manipulated into doing a lot of the horrible things they’ve done.  But there are people in the world, who have committed FAR more heinous crimes than the Manson Family murders, and who are far less repentant than Leslie, but because those crimes weren’t as notorious, they get to walk free.

Addendum: When I first posted this, I had a few people point out to me that they had always associated Voldemort and the Death Eaters with Hitler and Nazi Germany.  This is a perfectly fair point, but one that I personally don’t jive with, and the reason is simply the numbers.   There were literally millions of people in the Nazi party during WW2.   Death Eaters don’t even reach triple digits, as far as I’m aware.  As I hinted at in this essay, I consider Voldemort and the Death Eaters to be MUCH closer to Charles Manson and the Manson Family.  The Manson Family 100% had Nazi ideology, of course. "Helter Skelter” was Charles Manson’s prediction that there was going to be a massive race war; one that the Whites were going to lose, and that he and his Pure White family would emerge from it in order to rule over the remaining Blacks.  Kinda... sounds like a Death Eater thing, huh?

Sorry.  Back to Snape.  There is a lot we don’t know about Severus’ actual time as a Death Eater. I think it can be reasonably assumed he’s never actually killed anyone before Dumbledore (In Prince’s Tale, Severus questions if his soul would be safe from killing Dumbledore, and Dumbledore implies that his soul would not be damaged by helping an old man avoid pain and humiliation.  This leads me to believe that Severus never committed any soul-damaging murders before this).  Beyond being a sneaky spy and delivering the prophecy to Voldemort, his time as a Death Eater is all up for conjecture.  

Severus does make one important deviation from the typical cult member mold, however.  In the end, he manages to break away from the cult.  The scales fall from his eyes.  In a figurative sense, the LSD has worn off.  What made him sober up, was the threat to his last lifeline to the light. The one good fucking thing he’d ever had in his miserable life.  He was brought back by genuine love.  Ya know, the ENTIRE MESSAGE OF THE HP SERIES. And not only did he leave the cult, but he then spent the rest of his life actively attempting to destroy it, and atone for the mistakes he’s made, in an effort to bring back the world he’d been excited for, as an 11-year-old kid, so full of hope.

[ballorawan740]

SCP Scenarios: When their kids swear at them (REQUESTED)

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Requested by: @Astro_KeySimp

WARNING: Swearing (sorta)

Ok so I kinda made the reader into the child since don't remember if you wanted the reader to be a child or not, so if it wasn't to your liking, then I'm sorry, but I can make a separate version on where the reader isn't the child

It kinda became more of the SCPs and doctors being dads than their reaction to their kids swearing

SCP 073 (Cain)

Cain was walking around with you since you were bored and there wasn't anything to do

Being unaware of what some of the staff were saying, ye went over to grab you some food for later in case you got hungry

Once you both went back, he watched you play with some Legos and was talking as if it was your Lego friends talking to you

Cain looked away for just 10 seconds and heard you shout out "Wow! He said that her baby's such a bi-" which shocked him as he heard it

Cain looked around and made sure that nobody was around the room and was somewhat surprised that you was the one saying this

Being a good dad he is, Cain explained to you carefuly that you shouldn't say that word because it's bad

And being a sweet shy child, you obliged and stopped saying the word

Til this day, Cain had no idea about where and who you've heard the word from and is very much more self-aware

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

Abel is that type of dad who would teach you all the bad words and encourages you to say them

It's the researchers who had to teach you top not to say those words

One time, Dr Glass came in to examine you and had rewarded you as usual since you were so cooperative

You drew a picture of you and Abel talking in a garden with bright coloured flowers

Simon asked if he could see your drawing and saw that the conversation you and your dad had was those of swearing

This surprised Simon since you knew so many at such a young age but wasn't totally shocked since he knew that you were Abel's child

And knowing him, he wouldn't teach you to be nice, so Simon took the job as a mother hen and taught you to not use those words around people

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

Ok, so I'll keep this SCP short since I, again, don't know what I should write for this adorable, squicky, neon-orange, bubby blob

Another SCP who doesn't cuss

This adorable squishy boi here was about to have a heart attack when he heard you swear fir the first time

He had to ask you worryingly where you heard that phrase and you just said some guy wearing a white jacket

999 sighed knowing that you'll grow and couldn't do anything to stop it

He did, however, mention that you should try and avoid saying those things to anyone and that they'd most likely have a heart attack since you were his child and you won the genetic lottery for being the cutest and outgoing child in the world

The only other person who knew of this was Dr Glass (sucks to be him ngl, he do be a mother to everyone) and he had to help poor 999 with teaching you better words

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

YAY! Another SCP who would teach their kid to swear

682 has such a dirty mouth like 076 and would 100% teach you all the words he knows

Similarly to what happened with Abel, you were taken for an interview with Dr Sophia Light since she was assigned to you

She's such a sweet and kind doctor to be around and would teach you anything and everything you would probably need to know all the while keeping an eye on you in case you become overly aggressive like 682

You were just eating some sweets Lights had given you for good behaviour and overheard some researchers swear

Remembering what your dad had taught you, you just repeated those curse words while clapping at your achievement

This had shocked Sophia and that researcher since you were known to be a moderately shy and quiet child who normally wouldn't say those things despite being 682's child

Sophia had to ask if you understood the meaning of those words and shook your head as an indicator for no

She had to carefully find her words and told you to never speak of those words again and took you back to 682's cell

You went and hugged your dad and told him that you learnt from the doctor that those curse words were bad and neither of you should say them

682 had a headache after that

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

I have a hard time thinking that 049 would teach his child to cuss and would avoid swearing in front of them at all cost

Like, he barely swears anyways but he wants to stay classy and sassy for his innocent child

Just like the other day, his kiddo, you, was curious about the whole surgery thingy he does on the dead bodies, so you asked him to teach you and so he did (like the good father we nevah had)

So you learnt some new, yet difficult, words (cuz we all have a nonexistent pea-sized brain) and somehow, you managed to fit in a curse word

This did surprise 049 as he had remembered that he didn't teach you those foul words

He had to give you a talk about using such words and you teared up since you thought that people used them to express their affection to others

Unsurprisingly, 049 took his sweet time looking for the guy who 'taught' you this and wanted to use him as a case study for your future lessons

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

Another parent with such an amazing influence on children

035 would teach and enable you to use swearing as a form of expression

So you were free to say whatever you want as long as they aren't directed to our mask here, especially if it's in a negative way

Otherwise, you'd be punished (No not like that! He'll just ground you from your favourite TV show/movie)

The researchers were surprised, not about you swearing, but how you use them through expression

Except for this poor guy who was new to the foundation and bumped into you by accident

This rookie found himself listening to you cursing like a sailor (maybe not that much but more or less on the same level as Samuel L Jackson)

Word got out and everybody laughed at the poor rookie and told him more about your background and how you love to swear (apparently swearing will prolong your life, so you'll basically be immortal here)

035 was impressed by the whole ordeal and rewarded you with more shows to watch whenever you're both free

SCP 105 (Iris)

Iris would accidentally swear in front of you and whenever she realises it, she would tell you to not swear at people since it wasn't very nice

So she would use words to replace the swearing like "oh fudging hell not now" and "no sugar honey ice tea"

The foundation felt that it was slightly unnecessary but went with it anyways

They'd even go as far as saying that it's ridiculous, but who are they to judge?

Iris was your mother and she's a single mum too, so she felt the need to be overly beating but would occasionally let you decide on your own since you were only 12

The foundation members did tell her that you will eventually grow and more of these words will be used but she just hesitates

As a teen, you did begin to use foul words more often and Iris would argue about how you're using them, especially towards her, your own mother

Needless to say, you both felt bad and made up

SCP 106 (Old Man)

Now this old man right here doesn't exactly speak, or at least very rarely

And if he does, he'll most likely be talking to you or the foundation staff if he needed some help finding you

He'll most likely be able to understand what the researchers are saying, even if they aren't speaking English

My own personal hc is that 106 understands English, German, Spanish, French, Chinese, Arabic and Indonesian and probably many others

Every now and again, somebody would come in and teach you new words and give other lessons like maths and poetry (our favourite)

You came back home to tell him all the things you've learnt as he watched you in awe as he braided your hair

You've even used some new phrases, including swear words while talking and 106 was pretty impressed

I feel that he's quite neutral with swear words since words are words and are used as a form of verbal communication

So I don't think they'll be much change in his behaviour to whether you're swearing or not

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

Now with 096, all he does is scream

So basically, somebody else would have to teach you some words

It's not to say that 096 is a dumb animalistic creature with no soul and just kills people who look at his face

He isn't stupid since he manages to find anyone who looked at his face from the other side of the globe

And he seems to understand what the researchers are saying, or at least on a more intermediate to moderate level

You'll learn about swear words from the other researchers, whether they'll be teaching it to you intentionally or you've overheard them

The foundation could really care less, but would at least prefer that you chill a bit if you got carried away

096 would act all cheery when you learn more new things as it's not like the foundation would let him out anyway, so he'll be living the outside world life from you (How relatable, but more with babysitting and dating, cuz I'm too pretty for anyone to date XD)

Like with 106, I don't think 096 would have any special reaction towards swearing, but would probably be screaming internally for a bit since he knows that it isn't a nice word

Dr Jack bright

This mf right here is one of those parents who would be kind but firm

Bright would most definitely give in to your curiosity and teach you whatever you want to learn but would warn you of the dangers

Depending on what it is, he would even go as far as giving you your own personal guard who would stay with you and train you

And unfortunately, this guard has such a foul mouth, so you're constantly exposed to such words

Luckily for the both of you, Jack Bright doesn't really care about swearing as long as you're not being extremely inappropriate if you were to work

He would even joke around with you sometimes and would even start the conversation with swearing

For instance, he'd just surprise you with a "Yeet his mf outta my sheithole"

And yes, you did laugh at his antics

Some would even say that you're an exact clone of him but more stable (for now)

Well, Bright is an amazing dad, but I'd say just below Dr Glass

Or maybe even on par with him

Like Bright is a goofy dad that has all the terrible dad jokes and Glass would be the type of dad to look out for his kid

Dr Simon Glass

Dr Glass would most definitely avoid using swear words, especially if you were under 15

Even if you were over 15, he'd still avoid swearing unless he wants to make a joke or 2

So most of the time, you'd learn all the swearing from other people and SCPs

Sometimes you would swear by accident and Glass would just look at you, slightly disappointed

I'd say he doesn't exactly care about you swearing per see, but would rather you avoid it

It's cuz Simon is the best dad a dad could ever dad and nobody could prove me wrong here

He's also one of the top best dads compared to the others on the list

He's basically your best friend so he'd let you vent and its the 1 time he'd let you swear to show your emotions

Simon would 100% know your thoughts and behaviour

He's just that good at reading people, especially you - almost to the point where people would say he's an SCP cuz I swear he's just empathic and telepathic

As mentioned before, Glass would be the type of dad to care for your mental health

It's not that the others don't, it's just that Glass is a top their God of Psychology and would come to you before you even know you have depression

He would even crack a joke sometimes

So every so often, he would shout out "LANGUAGE!!!" from across the room before you could even bat an eye and say anything

Dr Alto Clef

Another top tier dad, but swearing addition

Your godfather would literally be Jack Bright

Then it's Kondraki and Glass

He would let you swear on a daily basis and would join you

Sometimes you be looking at your Oppas/Noonas and be like: "Oh fxxk me!" and Clef, who's in the next room, be like: "Yeah, fxxk me too!" (Yes but no sis! No incest pls!)

Other times, you would be in the same room as Clef and Bright and you'd join them in being chaotic

And poor Kondraki  is just there at the back trying to do his work peacefully

One time, Kondraki had to grab a Simon Glass to help stop the chaotic trio

And OML did it end so well

You were easy to manage tbh, with the exception of you swearing

Clef and Bright would most definitely encourage you to swear more

Especially Clef since he does have a twisted sense of humour

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Kondraki is totally the type of person who would tell their kid to mind their own language

But he secretly doesn't care and his child knows it

His style of parenting is similar to Simon's

And yes, Simon is your #1 godfather/uncle

You'd go to him for emotional support since Kondraki sucks at that

Sometimes you'd swear at him and he'd get mad though

So yeah, running to Glass is a wonderful idea

And we all know that Kondraki doesn't mean what he said

He's just extremely introverted, but he's rather sensible - Usually...

Anyways, he would ask Simon on tips and advice on how to get you to stop swearing so much and he just gave Benjamin a parenting book (Like fr guys, let Glass have some rest, he's tired of babysitting over 100 dozens of pets in the zoo and all the other babies who work in it)

[blu-joons]

DATING SEVENTEEN A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Hansol Vernon Chwe

A ⇴ AFFECTION 

Vernon is a big fan of affection, he’s big on cuddles and loves to hold your hand at any opportunity that he can. Affection is a good distraction for him when he wants to focus on something else, often focusing on your hands instead.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING 

You’d met by sheer coincidence when you accidentally walked into the wrong room on your first day at Pledis. Luckily, Vernon was on hand to lead you back into the right direction, but not before he’d also slipped his number into your pocket, just in case you ended up getting lost again and needed him to help you out.

C ⇴ CONFESSION 

Confessing to you left Vernon terrified for quite some time, for a while you’d sensed that something had been off with him whenever the two of you met up. You tried to push it to one side, but eventually, on one evening together, you just had to ask him what was going on. The plan that he did have to confess was thrown out of the window as he told you there and then what had been really going on in his mind.

D ⇴ DATES 

Your dates are often spent watching movies, either at the dorm or the theatre. You know all too well how much Vernon loves franchises, and with that, the two of you have a lot of movie marathons. You’ll be bundled underneath your duvets all day with plenty of snacks in between you both whilst you watch whatever Vernon has usually chosen. Even if he’s watched the movies a thousand times before, he’ll never say no to watching it again, especially now he’s got you for company to join him too.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE 

The whole dating experience made Vernon very nervous, he was worried about putting his foot wrong or making a mistake. It took him a while to really feel comfortable around you and trust in himself too to do the right thing. He put a lot of thought into even the smallest things that he did, and even though there were times when he was easy going, he never wanted that to be mistaken as not caring. If anything, Vernon cared too much about making sure that his first relationship was as perfect as he hoped.

F ⇴ FIGHTING 

Arguments between the two of you weren’t very common, these were the times when Vernon’s easy-going personality really came to the forefront. If you had a grumble or complaint, he’d listen and work on it, still with a smile on his face. It takes a tremendous lot for you to push his buttons to a point where he wants to argue with you. There are times when he feels like he has to bite his tongue, but he acknowledges that arguing is natural between couples, and that he’s far from perfect. Once you’ve told him what the problem is, he’ll never fail to fix it right away so the two of you can move on.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

You were welcomed very quickly into his family, especially by his sister. She loved having another girl around who could wind Vernon up which certainly helped with integrating you into the family. As happy as Vernon was to see the two of you getting along, he was still bitter that the two of you constantly teased him.

H ⇴ HOME 

The two of you spent a lot of time in his room at the dorm, enjoying your own space. Vernon wasn’t huge on finding a place of your own just yet, but as soon as you’d begin to weigh up a few options about what you could do in the future, he’d definitely be open to starting to do a bit of house hunting with you.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU” 

You were the first to say, ‘I love you,’ when Vernon returned from his first tour. You never imagined that home could become such a quite place, but not having him around really took you by surprise. As soon as you saw him, you just couldn’t help but blurt those three little words out before Vernon even had the chance to say, ‘I’m home!’

J ⇴ JEALOUSY 

Being jealous wasn’t something that Vernon tended to experience, he trusted a lot in people, and most of all, in you. The biggest sign you’d normally get when something wasn’t quite right, would be his smile dropping. He would never say anything to anyone, but as soon as the two of you are alone and you ask him what’s going on, he’ll tell you, and you, only. It’s not something he likes in himself, and he tries hard to brush any situations that make him jealous aside like they’re nothing. But he’s human, and he knows there are times when jealousy can’t be helped.

K ⇴ KIDS 

Starting a family was something Vernon often thought about when he was with you. Whenever the two of you began to talk about the future, his mind would naturally wonder to begin to think about children. It was a topic that he was very nervous to bring up around you, because if you started talking about children, Vernon wouldn’t be able to stop, he’d surprise you often by how well planned out his future was.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER 

If there’s one person around you who can be guaranteed to always be wearing a smile, it’s Vernon. If you ever see him without a smile, then you know something’s wrong. He knows he’s cute too, and aegyo is definitely a good friend of his when he wants to try and put a smile on your face. He loves to joke around and make the most out of his time with you, and best of all, he loves ticklish. If Vernon is ever not smiling, your hands will be attacking his waist in an instant as you know it’s the best solution. He’ll try and fight you off, but he’ll be too lost in his laughter to even try and be able to put up just a bit of a fight.

M ⇴ MISSING 

Being on the road is hard for him, whilst he’ll wear a smile around every single member of the crew and the team, his eyes will often tell a different story. There’ll be plenty of moments where he’ll end up drifting out of conversation because he finds himself thinking about you, and not paying attention to what he’s being told. Whilst the boys will never make him feel bad about missing you, they’ll often encourage him to go and ring you if he needs it. They know that he wants to protect the group when he misses you, but as with so many other things, he’s human, and he can’t keep up the smile forever, even if he wants too.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES 

You’ll often shorten his name to ‘vern,’ when you want him, if he ever hears you call him ‘Vernon,’ then he’ll be pretty certain that he’s done something wrong. His full name is usually only ever used when you’re angry at him.

O ⇴ OBSESSION 

He’s obsessed with your hands, his favourite time is when they’re drawing patterns around his body which he can focus on, to forget about the outside world.

P ⇴ PDA 

Affection in public isn’t something that Vernon does often, he’ll often get incredibly shy, even if he’s just holding your hand. He’ll often find himself being put in articles with blushed cheeks because a pap has photographed a photo of the two of you, he just can’t help but getting incredibly flushed when he’s around you.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS 

He can be quite a deep thinker at times, so he’ll often ask you questions to get yourselves into pretty deep discussions. The topics are often very random, but Vernon loves unfolding them and exploring so much about them too.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS 

Having family split between South Korea and America is hard for him, he barely ever has the time to visit them. Whenever he gets a break in his schedule, the two of you end up playing a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide which members of his family you’ll visit that time. He can never choose between the two sides, so he much prefers to leave it to fate to see where the two of you end up travelling to.

S ⇴ SEX 

He’ll often get very shy during intimacy, the close proximity between the two of you will make his heart flutter uncontrollably. Vernon will love when he can feel your hands around his body, they’re always very warm and comforting to him. It’s often a very romantic time, Vernon puts a lot of thought into things, he’s not one for a quick fix, he likes to take his time and make sure that it’s always special for you.

T ⇴ TEXTS 

Throughout the day you’ll often receive texts from Vernon just to see how you are. His mind will often wonder to you whenever he has a moment free, and so naturally, he’ll text you too to let you know you’re in his thoughts.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE 

Even though everyone knows him as the cute member of the group, even the rest of the members have never seen Vernon as shy as he is when he’s around you. He just can’t help but get nervous whenever he’s around you.

V ⇴ VACATION 

If there’s ever free time, then it will be spent visiting family. When the two of you aren’t visiting either side of his family, you’ll be visiting your own. Vernon makes sure to make time for your family too whenever he has free time, he wants you to see your loves ones just as much as he wants to go and see his own.

W ⇴ WHINING 

Vernon isn’t someone that will whine, if he wants your attention then he’ll usually just go very quiet and not be able to meet your eye.

X ⇴ XXXXX��

Just like his hugs, his kisses are very frequent too. Whenever he looks away from you because he’s getting shy, you’ll be right beside him, kissing against his red cheeks until he looks at you again. If he refuses, you’ll throw in a few tickles too until he’s kissing you back. Kisses from you are definitely a weakness for Vernon, no matter how shy, mad, unhappy, or moody he is, just a couple of kisses from you will do the trick and brighten the mood.

Y ⇴ YOU 

You were his weakness; he was completely infatuated with you.

Z ⇴ ZZZ 

Together you’d always fall asleep close together, he’d often be the big spoon as he liked to hold you against his chest and be the one to keep you safe. For you, falling asleep over his heart is always a comfort too.

---

Masterlist

[ganymedesclock]

These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user. 

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist. 

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

-

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Ten

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: omg this chapter is so sad!!!

Warnings: angst, language

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART TEN

You cried so much that you forgot what it felt like to not have your breath caught in your throat, or tears in your eyes, wetness on your cheeks. Even if you’d barely spent a week with Loki, when he left you there, without even trying to get to you, the bond inside of you screamed. It’s even worse than when you couldn’t see him, when Natasha and Bruce were trying to get you to stay away. Now that’d you’d had a taste, you just wanted more, and the bond that had been a knot in your belly now felt like burning fire.

Thor took you in his arms and brought you back to a jet, but both the wound on your head and the one in your heart kept you from having any conscience of it. You were crying so hard it hurt, your stomach clenching, breaths hiccupping out of your lungs, eyes swollen.  

The last thing you remembered before they put you under, pressing a mask to your face, was the wretched sobs coming from your throat.

Your dreams were nothing but black. It was like floating in space, with no stars, with no air, and the suffocation of the dream left you even more anguished than Loki’s departure.

Why hadn’t he tried? Why hadn’t he at least tried to take you with him, instead of looking at you with those eyes, his mouth parted?

You’d remember that look until the day you died.

Death was more peaceful than this.

When you woke up, Bruce was all over you, acting like the mommy you both never had. He was in your recovering room 24/7, bringing you everything you ever wanted. And when they moved you out of the recovery room and back at the Avenger’s compound, Bruce was still on your heels like a leech. 

Nat kept her eyes on you every time you passed by the door, as if you’d pounce right back out there if she dared to leave you alone.

Steve kept giving you speeches about good and evil, how Loki’s bond with you did not mean what he did was right. 

Tony dropped by once in a while, asking you questions on Loki, but all you knew was what you’d seen while at the loft, and revisiting those memories made you want to scratch your eyes out.

When you stopped talking, just shut down, they brought in a therapist. But even she couldn’t make you talk. All that anger was the only thing that made you remember him. And the bond desperately wanted you to remember him. Every single moment spent away from Loki, the bond called to him. It gave you stupid ideas to reach out somehow, to runaway, to seek out a way to get back to him. 

But you couldn’t leave. Ever. The Avenger’s compound was on lock down, and you could not be left alone in it, ever. It was your own personalized prison. 

You wished so desperately, but so quietly, that Loki would come for you. That he’d bring an army and get you back. 

But the news you overhead - because they didn’t allow you to know anything about Loki’s whereabouts - suggested Loki couldn’t give more of a fuck about you. He’d terrorized more people across the Earth, all intent on “taking over the world” or whatever. 

“He’s got Selvig,” you heard Thor telling Nat. You were lying on the couch and they didn’t know you were there as they prepared lunch. “He’s going to open a portal and bring the Chitauri army here.”

“If he does that,” Nat said with a hiss, “then it’s going to get far worse than it already is.”

You knew what she meant by that. The Avengers already had to take care of you - Loki’s soulmate - and adding an alien war to the pile was not going to facilitate their game.

And if Loki wasn’t coming for you, you wouldn’t make any effort to get back to him. 

*** Eighteen days later, Three hours before the attack on New York ***

You didn’t like the movie. Nat had chosen it as the boys had taken over the gym to have “a boys workout” as they called it. 

Nat had been careful in avoiding any romance movies, and had picked an action packed, hot boy movie with no story line and a lot of explosions. The main character was good-looking enough to distract you from the actual plot, and the fact that you did not have a phone - actually, not allowed - made you even more concentrated on the character. 

It wasn’t long before the boys came back out, smelling like sweat and rubber. Lately, they’d all been hitting the gym often since Loki’s army was waiting to invade. Tony insisted on a seven-day a week training until they’d either caught Loki or killed him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat at the image of a dead Loki in your head. Thor’s presence didn’t really help either. He kept mentioning his brother as if you weren’t even there. 

“You okay?” Bruce asked, tapping your knee as he took a seat beside you.

You wrinkled your nose. “Ew, Bruce, you smell so gross,” you whined, pinching your nose. 

He smiled, the perpetual look of caution on his face he wore only around you dropping and softening his features. 

“Come on,” he drawled, “it’s not that bad!”

But before you could answer, Tony’s cell rang. Everyone went deadly silent. You could feel the blood draining from your face as Tony brought the device up to his ear, his face severe.

Your fingers curled into fists. Your blood ran cold, colder than you’d ever felt as you watched Tony’s face tighten. 

The first thought to enter your mind was Loki’s wellbeing. 

Please tell me he’s fine.

Tony hummed and hung up. “Suit up,” he said, his tone deadly, “Loki’s opened up the portal. They’re dropping armed Chitauri in the streets.”

The entire living room activated, as if everyone around you had just been waiting for Tony to give the heads up. Nat launched off the couch, running upstairs to get her suit, followed my Steve and Clint - which yes, they’d manage to save between all this time.

Tony turned into the kitchen, mumbling to JARVIS.

Only Thor and your brother remained in the living room, hard like statues, their eyes emotionless.

“Who’s gonna babysit, huh?” you mumbled, but your words felt like ash on your tongue. 

“I wager I should stay,” the God of Thunder said, pointing to you. “After all, my brother will attempt to get her out of here before he obliterates the planet.”

The soulmate bond would not let him leave you here to die.

Bruce shook his head, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “She’s my sister,” he said. “And you’re more needed than me on the battlefield.”

You frowned, anger and heat crawling up your chest like sour vines. “Bruce, if he gets here and you’re the one standing between him and me, he will go through you,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I can take him,” Bruce shot back. “And Thor will man the streets with the rest of the team. No one is going to take this planet and no one is going to take my sister! And until Loki is either dead or locked up until the end of your days, I will never allow you out of my sight!”

Thor knew better than to stay. He vanished from the living room even before Bruce had uttered the last words, either because of the look on your face or the privacy you and your brother needed.

Bruce had stood, towering over you, his face stricken with a mix of anger and annoyance, and you looked up at him from under your brows, heaving, feeling betrayal course through your veins. 

“Bruce,” you muttered, trying to keep a lid on your anger. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need my fucking brother looking after me forever.”

Bruce’s lip twitched. “That’s what you made us all think,” he seethed. “That’s what we thought. That we could trust you. And then you literally betrayed us and went to him with arms wide open.”

“He’s my soulmate, Bruce!”

“I don’t care!” At this point, your brother didn’t care that he was screaming and that Tony could hear him in the kitchen. “You’re a threat to yourself.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” you gritted from clenched teeth.

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “I told you the bond is different for men,” he said. “He doesn’t care about love or passion or whatever he made you think! It’s about possession, owning what is meant to be his! And with Loki, there is no possible way the bond could be -”

“You don’t know that!” Now it was your turn to stand, facing your brother like you’d done so many times as kids, but this time, it was for something a little more severe. “You say all that shit about the bond for men but you don’t even know yours! You stopped yourself from knowing her because of the shit you did to yourself!”

You regretted the words before they left your mouth, but anger had made you open up your lips and spill anything hateful that would deter your brother. And it did. It so fucking did. His face fell from that angered scrunch to something more tragic, tormented. 

Bruce had always counted on you to understand that the Hulk was not - absolutely not - Bruce. 

And there you’d been, accusing him of creating this monster he hated so much.

Bruce took a step back, his eyes falling to the ground. “If you leave this house, I will not hesitate to use force.” And then he plopped himself on the couch.

You looked up, seething, spotting Tony leaning against the door to the kitchen. He shrugged, jerking his head to the stairs, silently signaling that maybe you should retreat to your room.

Feeling like a child who hadn’t gotten what she wanted, you ran up to your room, crossing Steve in the hallway and not even bothering with wishing him luck. For all you cared at that moment, they could all burn.

You felt like your insides would fall out as you tumbled into your room, slamming and locking the door. You sat on the edge of the bed, holding a pillow to your belly, hoping the pressure would prevent your insides from spilling out.

What had you done? Why had you gone and said those things? The image of Bruce’s face falling, that look of utter bewilderment and betrayal passing across his features, haunted you. You rocked on the edge of your bed, feeling the tears brimming behind your eyes, an odd sort of pressure building in your head. 

You knew he was there before he even spoke. The air shifted, like a soft wind inside a glass jar, and the sound of fabric against fabric echoed in your otherwise dark room. 

“He’ll kill you,” you said, biting on the edge of the pillow to keep from sobbing.

“I am not really here,” he answered.

Relief and disappointment. They would not be able to hurt him if they caught him in here. He wouldn’t be able to actually touch you. 

“What do you want?” you uttered, still clutching the pillow, facing away from him.

“I can come and get you out of here,” he said, his voice calm, leveled.

You frowned. “You left me,” you whispered. “You fucking left me, Loki. You didn’t even try. And even if I wanted to go with you, my brother would rip you to pieces before you even set foot in here.”

You could sense Loki’s anger, rippling from him even in his illusion form. “You do not want to come with me?” His voice was rough, as if fighting to stay even. He was sad. 

You clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. “No.” Then you straightened. “No. Leave me alone. You’ve caused enough damage in under a month of being my soulmate. I don’t want to see you again. Now get the hell out of my room before my brother has me put in an actual cell.”

You never got an answer.

When you turned to see if he was still there, the air was empty, dark, silent, as if he’d never even been there to begin with.

DON’T WORRY! I KNOW WHERE THIS STORY IS GOING. I HAVE A PLAN ;)

tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor 

[7soulstars]

so glad you opened requests again! can I request an avengers x reader who has huge white wings ,but doesn't know how to fly ..maybe they found her in a hydra base locked in a cage, scarred and frightened and they took her in. thank you 💞

 Hey Darling! Thank you sooo much for sending in a request and for being so patient! I really love this idea and I'll try my best to give it justice it deserves. I really hope you enjoy it ! Love you !

Alate

...............

Pairing: Avengers x Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Reader is traumatised, ANGSTY AF, Overprotective Bucky, OOC Stephen, Avenger Loki (I just love him OKAY !), Floof

Summary: “Man must rise above the Earth—to the top of the atmosphere and beyond—for only thus will he fully understand the world in which he lives.”– Socrates

...............

Alate; having wings or lifted up in flight.

Soaring she moved like the wind would. As if even the winged gods and angels followed her path. Legs dangling she watched the lit up city beneath her, recalling her past.

It had been a regular enough mission. Ambush, Steal Information and destroy base. Natasha, Scott, Steve, Wanda, Loki and Tony moved as the rest directed them through the ear piece in their ear. Scott had managed to break in first through the main door of the warehouse with Wanda following suit. Loki got Tony and Steve in through the back and Nat, well, she slithered in from the top. Then came the problem. The files weren't in the fucking warehouse but at least 30 Hydra Agents were. But then again it never was a big deal when you had even half a handful of superheroes and a villian turned vigilante inside together. 10 minutes and half were either dead or barely alive. Just when they were about to leave Tony noticed the basement. Scott was made to go first since he wouldn't be noticed by anyone. And he definately did not expect to see what he saw.

"I don't like this. Nope."

"What the hell are you talking about Lang ?"

"Get in here !"

"No you tell us what is going on !"

"THEY'VE KEPT THIS GIRL PRISIONER AND HER STATE DOES NOT LOOK GOOD. WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR BULLSHIT ONE OF YOU GET HER OUT !"

"...........Stark blast the door open..........."

"Don't have to say more Capsicle"

There was a boom and the lead door fell open, almost squashing Scott who yelled a 'watch it' before sizing up.

What they saw was what Peter would say ‘Does not pass the vibe check’

It was a metal box. Only the front covered with bulletproof glass, that was covered with perspiration and probably high amounts of dust. Chains made of lead bound her limbs. Her mouth was muzzled, hair matted, bruises and cuts everywhere, cloth covered something protruding from her back and it looked like it hurt. She cowered into a corner of the box, glaring at the newcomers, visibly terrified as her body trembled.

“What kind of -”

“Sick bastard ? Demon Spawn ?”, Tony continued for Natasha.

“We need to get her out of here”, Loki said grimacing at the way she was being treated.

“She won’t come with us voluntarily.....When, Pietro and I were being controlled by Hydra....We complied so we were never tied down like that.....But the stronger, dangerous ones are.....abused.....Brainwashing probably didn’t work on her....so they may have subdued her and she probably won’t react well to us....”, Wanda said. She felt sick to her stomach at the girl’s state. Old memories came rushing through.

Nat agreed, trying to figure out how to get the other out. They all stood there silently wracking their brains as Bucky and Sam who had stood guarding the outside came in because the others were taking too long.

“ We need to leave they probably called for back-”, Bucky stopped to look in the direction of the cell, “Y/N ??”, he looked shocked as he moved to touch the glass seperating the two. The girl desperately tried to shuffle near to him, struggling with the chains holding her in place. It almost looked like he had forgotten about anyone or anything as he tried to break the glass holding her in. Loki helped in a way too. He somehow unlocked all the chains and the muzzle with his magic. The cloth from her back came loose and there was a bright light blinding everyone for a second. They were wings.....The whitest anyone had ever seen.

The ride in the quinjet was a rather troublesome one. Y/N would hiss at anyone who even tried to mildly interact with her, flinching everytime someone moved and clinging onto Bucky’s arm as she buried her head into his chest. Everthing scared her. The machines, the people, every single thing.

Bucky looked at her in pity.He was angry that he could never get her out of that hellhole. He was angry at himself. You see, Y/N was kidnapped and brought in by Hydra at the mere age of 10. She met Bucky for the first time at the mere age of 16. 

She was one of those who didn’t listen. One of those cases where a brainwashed Soldat was thrown into their cell to discipline them. But she was also one of them whom he refused to bring himself to harm even in that state. She had helped him once. When he was badly injured as he was thrown into her cell . She had looked past her fear and wrapped a scrapped part of her dust ridden gown around his hand. That was the last he had seen of her. He had thought they got rid of her.

Nat had tried. To make the girl at least glance at her. She finally succeeded on offering her food. It made Nat feel a weird kind of warmth something she hadn’t felt ever. 

By the time they reached headquarters Y/N had familiarised herself or at least tried to with everyone. Wanda had helped her in and out of the shower. Nat had brought her clothes. Loki kept apparating and magic-ing stuff to amuse her. Satisfied with a smug look on his face when she let out a soft gasp of excitement. 

Next part was the difficult bit. Equipment everywhere. It recalled the girl of enough horridness. Steve had hesitated and asked if a full health checkup was necessary immediately and it turned out that it was. But Bruce was gentle. At that moment Y/N wondered if such gentleness had ever existed and if it did, why hadn’t she gotten a nibble of it.

Tony had stopped Peter and Thor from attacking the girl with their golden retriever personalities as he constanly kept inquiring to F.R.I.D.A.Y about her origin. Scott and Sam had bickered making Y/N giggle as she sat by Loki and Bucky. For the first time in her life she felt at peace.

Stephen Strange met Y/N a month after her rescue all after winning a bickering contest with Tony when the rest of the Avengers suggested it in the first place saying that ‘It’s not only unfair to him considering his position in the team but he can also help her.’ 

See the thing is that Y/N didn’t know her true potential and the irony is that even with wings she had no idea how the fuck to fly. 

Stephen liked her. Wong did too. She was quiet and spoke only when necessary but there was kindness and fascination in her eyes. She had tried her hand in sorcery and she was learning. Fast though not as fast as Stephen it was surprising. 

Her wings were heavy It was understandable why she didn’t try flying. But Stephen tried. Oh how he did and though embarassingly for him he had also asked the others for assistance but it never seemed to work. 

Y/N had felt what the meaning of being called an Avenger for the very first time and that it was filled with loss and pain. She had looked around her as she threw the magical golden whip at the enemy. Nat was limping. Steve struggled. Peter was down on his knees. A pack of little screams had alerted her as she looked to see a set of civilians at whom guns were being cocked at. She had leapt. Without thing of the consequences as Bucky had yelled a painful no. She lept right in front of the group,Her wings shielding them when she heard the shots go off. She waited for the pain but she felt nothing but little jerks. The battle had turned silent. Everyone had stopped to look and take in what had had happened. Her wings had ricochetted evey single bullet. Hitting them backing into the ones who had fired them in the first place. And for the first time that she had flapped them she felt herself lift off the ground as the shone a blinding white.

Y/N recalls Sundays. The days when everyone sat together at Stark Towers as they lean on Y/N’s wings watching movies peacefully with occasional perks of laughter.

Shimmering gold and green flashed beside her as she sat recalling on top of the building. A hand placing a book by Socrates in her hand. “They’re waiting and I’m tired of being pestered. Come on, let’s go”,he snarked earning a giggle.

She finally knew what the quote meant. She was lucky to be Alate.

--The End --

Finally done! I am so sorry for delaying all the requests I’m really going through a very important and stressful phase of my life. (One which practically determines my future). Thank you so much for being patient and I really hope you will enjoy this fic! Feedback is appreciated and please like, reblog and comment if you like my work to support me! I have made changes in my fic request list so do check it out! Please do not plagarise my work!

~Love, Hri

[slightlymore]

no, thank you

part of the Pride Universe

jaemin x fem reader

others: haechan (mentioned in jaemin's thoughts but not present in the real plot)

genre: smut with plot, roommates au, mentions of university (jaemin is a med student), angst, fluff, very +18 tho

warnings: very! rough! smut! (brat taming, oral, masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, denial, slight degradation, restriction, manhandling, bath tub is one of the locations), short mentions of mlm (jaemin x haechan fwb in the past), yn comes off rude in the beginning but it's necessary for character development, yn has an anxiety attack, angsty 

words: 11.3K

this is kinda good if I say so myself, yall have to read 👁️ if you don't like mlm or memberxmember I promise it's just a short bit of fluff/angst connecting it to Cute~ and that's all lol, the plot is very jaeminxreader centered 

Jaemin has been told that he can't say no to people. Yes, he will come to the party. Yes, he can help with the moving out. Yes, he can help you with Anatomy. Yes, that kind of anatomy as well. 

The only time Jaemin would say no is when people would ask if he’s busy or tired. No, I’m fine. No, everything is alright. 

"Do you ever sleep, Jaemin?" Haechan asked once. 

His soft and sleepy voice made Jaemin smile. He wrapped the boy’s waist even tighter, tugging Haechan’s body against his. 

“Of course I do.” Haechan chuckled. “When?” “When you’re not here”, the other whispered. “Lies. You’re studying when I’m not here. Look at what kind of service I’m doing. Fucking you so that you can just lie in bed and fall asleep.” Jaemin smiled again and ghosted Haechan’s forehead with his lips ready to place a kiss on the other’s warm skin. He stopped himself before doing so. “Yeah, thank you for your service.”

But since Haechan started to date some guy, there was no one to force him into bed and make Jaemin rest. 

The boy would drift off to unconsciousness for a little while every night, head pressed into his med school books, mind full of notions and caffeine. He would stay like that for an indefinite amount of time, not enough to fully fall asleep but enough to being shaken to the core when he would wake up, batting his eyelashes as his unfocused gaze tried to make sense of his surroundings. Then he would get up slowly from his uncomfortable chair and drag his feet to the kitchen to make his nth cup of coffee for the night.

Jaemin has never had a roommate and it was probably because of Haechan. Said boy wouldn’t have cared less if someone was in the other room, listening to their moans, but Jaemin didn’t like that. Instead, he loved it when Haechan would pull up to his doorstep unannounced, eyes either wide with tears or tight with lust. Because the choice was Jaemin. It was always Jaemin. Haechan needed him and Jaemin loved it. He couldn’t have other distractions. No flatmates knocking on the door and complaining. Just him and Haechan, on his bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counters, against the entrance door, on the floor, in the shower. Jaemin didn’t know, but it wasn’t just him doing Haechan a favour, maybe quite the opposite. Because Jaemin has been also told that he doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t let people know about his needs, or whatever. But Haechan was aware of that. It took Jaemin a little while to notice it, especially since the other was already gone, but more often than not, Haechan would just show up for no apparent reason. “Nothing happened,” he would say, “I was just horny.” But Haechan would come for him. Because that’s how Haechan was. He could see people very well and he could see Jaemin when he needed something, or when he was exhausted and needed a simple hug, or when he didn’t sleep in days or having eaten nothing more than a single cup of instant noodles. They were friends with benefits but the benefits sometimes were just lying beside each other and talk, or order in some food while watching a movie. Sometimes they would just kiss for a long time, during nights where Haechan felt weaker, and those were Jaemin’s favourite nights. “You should sleep now,” the older would whisper against his lips and Jaemin would reply with a short-breathed yeah, in a second, before letting his tongue inside the other’s mouth slowly for another hour or so. Some people might have said that Jaemin was in love, but the boy had no idea himself whether that was the case or not and he didn’t want to think about that. Jaemin didn’t like thinking at all. But he loved it when others did and he loved to think about their thoughts instead of his own. He wanted to know people’s reasons and why they behaved in a certain manner so that he could understand himself without actively trying to.

“So, what do you think?” Jaemin was standing proud in the middle of his spot-free living room, hands on his hips, like a housewife expecting compliments from her housewive friends. 

“Could be better,” you mumbled, biting your nails, barely looking around.

When you found Jaemin’s pretty written paper renting a room on the university notice board, you did assume he was a girl. 

“What could be better?” he smiled at you. 

You stared back, sensing sarcasm but upon seeing the boy’s genuine expression you realized how naive he was. 

“I don’t know. The roommate maybe?” you rolled your eyes and walked towards your assigned room, dragging your suitcase carelessly on the nice wooden floor. “I’m staying, by the way,” you yelled after closing your door with your foot with a loud bang.

____

You have been told a lot of stuff during your life. Selfish, rude, uncaring, insensitive. 

It would make you angry. 

You would yell back that it’s not true making people step back and add some more adjectives that you wouldn’t want to use while describing yourself in class. 

You fought that back a lot, crying secretly under your covers, terrorized of being alone by yourself, afraid of being alone with such a bad person. 

You fought and fought until one day you just stared back at those people. 

So what? you found yourself thinking. Perhaps I am. Yeah. I am selfish and I don’t give a shit. So what about that? What are you all going to do? 

And when you ignored people, they started to ignore you as well. 

And slowly, everyone knew that no, you would not help them with their homework, no, you didn’t want to go to their stupid party, no, you didn’t give a shit about their new college charity event. 

And you didn’t give a single fuck about Jaemin’s rules.

“So, you can actually do whatever you want, really. The only things I ask of you is-,” he tried to speak to you the first morning of you living together.

You turned your music loudly on purpose the previous night as you settled in. You wanted to see the boy come knocking on your door and finally throw away his polite mask as everyone does around you after a few minutes of knowing you. Because you’re rude and it’s better for them to just know that from the start. 

The thing you hated the most was people giving you a little hope, that maybe you’re likeable and they wouldn’t turn their backs on you. Yet, you’ve quickly realized that it is impossible. Not with you. Not since you’re such a horrible person.

“Yeah, I don’t care,” you replied, one of Jaemin’s red apples between your teeth, a little juice glistening on your lips after you bit down. They were prettily on display in the middle of the kitchen island with a little vase of fresh flowers kept them company on the right.

The boy looked at your mouth for a second before locking eyes with you. “Okay,” he simply replied grabbing an apple himself. “I’m glad you like apples. I was afraid they would go to waste-,” but he didn’t complete the sentence, one hand suspended in the air, eyes wide as you let the piece of apple you were munching on fall on the ground as well as the fruit you were holding. 

“These apples are actually disgusting,” you commented then you both listened to the sound the apple made as it rolled into the living room and stopped as it met the soft rug.

That was it. 

It wasn’t your fault that this boy had more patience than your previous flatmates and you had to go stronger on him. 

Kick me out? Are you going to kick me out now? Come on. Kick me out.

But Jaemin didn’t look mad. 

After the initial confusion, he just put his apple back on top of the others and grabbed a paper towel. He knelt in front of you as you stood there with crossed arms and picked up your half munched bite of fruit and threw it away. Then he walked the few steps separating the kitchen island to the living room and picked up the apple as well, giving it the same journey towards the trash. 

You scoffed. 

Jaemin still didn’t say anything and grabbed a pan out of the cabinets. “I’m making pancakes,” he announced calmly. “I don’t like pancakes,” you acted like a kid but the feeling gripping at your throat was something new and you didn’t know how to behave. 

This Jaemin guy made you angrier than other people. 

Jaemin turned around to face you. “What do you like, Y/N?” 

You stared back for a few seconds at his neutral and unbothered face, then shoulder bumped him as you walked away. Grabbing your backpack from the ground you just slammed the entrance door on your way out.

You knew you were annoying. You also hated yourself just like everyone hated you. But you couldn’t help it. It has happened before. You let yourself believe that maybe you were kind and sweet, that you had a caring heart, that people would like you.  Yet, soon after, they would finally realize that you weren’t like that at all. That you were a monster trying to put on an act. So you liked the idea of people seeing the worst you could be first, so they could just leave if they couldn’t handle it. 

And no one could. Yet this Jaemin dude didn't budge.

You came home late that day and you noticed the way Jaemin turned off his music as he heard you enter your room. 

God, you hated him. 

And the morning after he was already in the kitchen, hair wet on his forehead, a white towel around his neck. 

He smiled like an angel. 

"Eggs and bacon?" 

You ignored him. 

And the morning after again. "Fruit?" Door slam. 

And another morning again. "Maybe cappuccino and croissants?" he wondered. Again. 

"Porridge?" "Okay! Okay. Fuck. Okay", you finally replied. 

It was the weekend and you had no excuse to dramatically leave the apartment as you did the previous days when you had to go to class. You were standing in the same spot in front of the kitchen island as the first day when you made a fool out of yourself by spitting out a piece of an apple. 

"I'm fine with whatever,” you added quietly. "Toast?" Jaemin raised his eyes from underneath his fringe before his hand could throw the locks back revealing the forehead. 

You shrugged. 

He smiled excitedly and got busy around the cabinets, the scent of his aftershave intimidating you. 

Walking around him silently you sat up on the kitchen stools, placing your hands on the marble and looked down, uneasy. It was alright if Jaemin was kind now then would start hate you afterwards. You could rest for a little bit, right? You could just put down your shield and breathe. It’s not like you would become friends if the made you breakfast. 

"How did the week go? You guys have many exams?" Jaemin's voice slightly startled you. 

Looking up you saw that he was already looking at you, two white plates in front of him with two pieces of hot toast. You stared back for a second then looked at the way his hands spread jam on the bread. 

"It was alright," you found yourself speaking. 

How was yours? You probably should have asked. But you didn't care and you were afraid to randomly engage in more than a few words long conversations. 

"Here," Jaemin placed the food in front of you then he licked his thumb. Thank you, you should have said. But Jaemin didn't look bothered. 

After a few moments of silence during which you couldn't bring yourself to start eating, Jaemin sighed like a British person would while slapping their knees when announcing they should go. 

"Alright. I'll eat in my room. I have a lot of stuff to do,” he announced and left with the plate. You stared at his back as he lazily dragged his feet towards the corridor and when you heard his door close you finally tasted the toast.

_____

A scared cat. An angry and scared cat.

This was the first thing Jaemin thought when he saw you. 

Honestly, he almost lost it on the first day but kept it in together when he saw the way your hands trembled while being confronted. Then all of his anger died. 

No, I don't care, you told him yet you didn't turn up your music loudly again after the first night and you never bothered him. It was almost as if you weren't even there. 

What a nicely crafted facade, Jaemin would think, hands behind his head, a pencil between his lips, an open manual on his chest, eyes directed towards an indefinite point on his ceiling. 

It was very late at night. His phone buzzed once and the boy stared at the "apartment empty, wanna come?" text. 

Yeah, he could use some of that. 

And he would have been at his friend's place by now if a weird noise wouldn't have stopped him from putting on his shoes. 

It was coming from your room, a small choked sound, barely audible that Jaemin wouldn't have heard it in other circumstances. He walked the corridor slowly until gently stopping in front of you door, a slight blush covering his cheeks. Could it be-? 

But no. 

Jaemin heard a fair share of whimpering girls before and you definitely weren't enjoying yourself. So he knocked, suddenly worried. "Y/N?" You didn't reply, only a little whimper being caught by Jaemin's ears. "Y/N, is everything alright?" He waited, face almost pressed on the cool wood. Another choking sound and "I'm coming in, now,” he announced and you couldn't stop him. 

Sat on your bed, wet cheeks from crying and irregular breaths, you looked up like a scared deer, sliding back when Jaemin walked towards you. "Shh, it's alright," he whispered with a calm voice, hands in front of himself as he sat down in front of you. 

"Don't touch me. Go away," you flinched, hiding your face from his gaze. 

Jaemin had a reassuring face when he spoke again. "I won't touch you if you don’t want me to."

"Go away. Leave me alone," you repeated with a feeble voice, arms pulling your knees to your chest. 

Jaemin looked at you for a few moments, your baby blue pyjama and irregular breath, then he gently sat down on the bed in front of you and crossed his legs. 

"Do you take medicine?" he asked softly. You shook your head. "Okay. Then, will you look at me?" You sobbed and furtively raised your eyes to meet his for a short moment before looking away. "It's alright. You're doing great." Jaemin's voice was low, articulating every word slowly and he didn't move. "It's scary, I know. But there's no danger now. I'm protecting you." His eyes were trained on your face and you finally let yourself stare back fully. 

"Imitate me," he spoke again, breathing in and out slowly. A little sob escaped your lips before you could do the same. 

"Good. You're doing amazing. Slowly," he cooed and you did just that for an indeterminate amount of times, the silence engulfig you both until you looked down and saw your fingers wrapped around Jaemin's hands. 

You let them go surprised but your palms liked how soothing touching another human’s skin felt. 

His was soft and warm, and you concentrated on the way the heat spread to your cold hands, holding them again timidly. 

Then you let yourself fall on the pillows, eyes looking up at the ceiling, the sobs getting more time between each other. 

Jaemin remained still for a moment, as if unsure what to do, then he slowly moved to the side, walking on all fours until resting on the bed beside you. 

A little stronger whine shook your frame again though and he slightly rolled over, rising on his elbow the other hand above your body. 

"I'm-- going to touch your diaphragm. Is this alright?" 

You bit your lower lip then nodded. 

"Okay, breathe in again, keep it for one second, then release slowly."

You inhaled, staring at Jaemin's big eyes as if looking for approval. His hand ghosted your stomach until finally resting on your body right underneath your bust. 

"That's right," he spoke softly. "Now, again.” 

You repeated the exercise, feeling Jaemin's warm palm through the clothes every time your rib cage expanded. 

"Again," he breathed in with you, keeping it, then releasing it. 

After a while your mind felt like white, blood fully oxygenated, Jaemin’s non-invading and calming presence actually making you feel better.

Yet your heartbeat couldn't stop beating and Jaemin could feel it. 

"Again," his low voice made your arms skin shiver with goosebumps, your breathing getting irregular instead of steady. 

"Focus on my hand and your breath," he said but his gaze falling on your slightly open lips wasn't helping you focus at all. 

He blinked and looked up into your eyes again. 

It was even worse. "Jaemin, I'm fine now.” 

The boy blinked a few times and retrieved his hand slowly. 

Your breath calmed down and Jaemin took it for a good sign since he returned to his side of the bed. 

It became silent so suddenly that you could hear Jaemin swallow. 

Thank you? Thank you for being here? Or, thank you for helping me out. Sorry for slapping your hand away? Is this what you should have said, right?

“Then, I’ll be going now,” his soft voice disrupted the silence and your bed creaked in the darkness as he presumably got up. 

No, wait, wait. 

"Why do I become like this at night?" you whispered instead. 

Jaemin’s silhouette against your dark blue windows moved around and lied on the bed again, this time on his stomach, bust raised on his elbows, eyes probably on the shadows of your face. 

"It's because the front part of your brain gets quieter and gives space to the other parts of your brain where feelings are."

"Why do you always have a good answer to everything?" 

You heard Jaemin's breath form a light chuckle. 

"Many people told me that before."

"Okay, right."

"No, wait, I meant that- I'm not bragging, sorry--it came out very weirdly." 

You smiled, the dark and sudden sleepiness making you care less about keeping up your cold image. 

"You want to be a psychiatrist?" "I don't know."

You turned on your side, hands pressed under your face, knees buckled until almost touching his hips. "Why is that?" 

Jaemin sighed. "I don't know if I'm good at helping people." 

The laugh you let out took both of you by surprise. "Are you joking?" 

The boy exhumed perplexed energy even if you couldn’t see him properly. 

"You're a human matt with weird gigantic patience. You'll help people alright." "A human mat?" Jaemin raised his eyebrow at you but you still noticed the amused twinkle in his eyes. "Yeah, you have no self-esteem,” you went on. "I have self-esteem," the other protested. "If you did, you wouldn’t let people treat you like that."

Jaemin let the clock on your wall fill the silence with its ticks for a little while. 

"Like what?" he whispered. 

You rolled on your back, unable to look at him anymore. "Like how I treat you." 

"So you're aware of that." 

"So you're aware of that as well but choose to ignore it instead of fighting back?" 

Jaemin rolled on his back as well, hand rising to his forehead and ruffling his fringe. 

You stared at the way the strands fell back exposing his forehead then you looked at his furrowed eyebrows and finally at his lips when he opened them to speak. "What's the point in fighting back?" 

A car roared outside your open window, giving you more time to collect your thoughts. 

"What's the point in being stupidly kind like that?" you finally spoke up. Your voice was a little whisper as if you secretly wanted Jaemin to not hear you. But he did. 

"So I can live by my principles." "And are you happy?" 

Ah. 

Shit. 

Jaemin was at a loss of words. 

"Isn't it better to just be yourself and do whatever the fuck you want?" you went on. "Like you?" he finally spoke up. "Yeah." "But you're not doing what you want.”

It was your turn to have no words to choose from. 

"You're not yourself, are you?" he asked. "I am," but your voice didn't seem convincing even to your ears. "People are not going to like you more if you behave as you do," you added. "And what should I do to make people like me?" Jaemin inquired. "Nothing. Just be yourself."

Jaemin sat up slowly and briefly looked out of the window. 

"Then you should follow this advice as well. Stop putting on this act."

You didn't sleep the whole night after Jaemin slowly exited your room.

_____

The next day you already left when Jaemin got up and walked to the kitchen. 

He heard you leave actually. He couldn't sleep the whole night either. 

Are you happy? Are you yourself?

No. After turning and rolling on his bed Jaemin got to the conclusion that he wasn't happy or himself at all. 

Not all the time at least. 

Because most of the times he did care about people, but he could also point out times when he did too much for no reason, getting back nothing but a bittersweet taste on his tongue. 

When he came back home after class, an intense sweet fragrance welcomed him first as he stepped inside. With the back turned at him and wearing his black apron, you were frantically looking for something in the kitchen cabinets. 

Jaemin indulged in looking at you for a little while, a fizzy feeling inside his chest, small happiness created by moments like finding money in an old jacket, a little surprise you didn’t need but that made your day better. 

How would it feel to behave like you? Would Jaemin be able to do it? 

At first, Jaemin wondered why you were like that, but after the previous night, he hit his head with an imaginary palm, feeling stupid for not realizing it earlier. 

You were just like him. 

Hiding something in front of people. 

He cleared his throat and smiled when you jolted with a little scream. “For fuck’s sake.” 

Yeah, you were hiding the little girl he saw crying on her bed and he was hiding the needy little boy that so desperately wanted to be loved. 

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he let his bag fall on the floor as he sat on the kitchen stools in front of you. “Are those cookies?” he indicated the oven with his chin. 

You adjusted your clothes as if suddenly realizing how embarrassing it was to wear an apron. 

“Why ask obvious questions?” 

Jaemin’s smile widened until showing his teeth and you felt like either fight him or run away from his eyes. What a weirdo, you thought. It was almost as if he was enjoying your moodiness. 

“Are you looking for something?” he asked again. You crossed your arms on your chest and Jaemin thought that seizing you in the act of being domestic was something that highly embarrassed you. 

He loved it. 

“No.” The boy rested his head on one arm, tilting his head to the side, already knowing what you were trying to do before. “Shall we decorate the cookies together? I can make the icing. The colouring is in the other cabinet.” 

You turned around and stared at the only place you didn’t look before. “I wasn’t trying to decorate them,” you lied. 

Jaemin lifted his hands as if innocent. “Never said that,” then smiled as you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you have plans tonight?” he walked around you to retrieve the decorations and you felt your breath hitch when he had to press himself on your back. “Because the cookies have to cool down first,” Jaemin explained. 

You didn’t reply and untied your apron, suddenly regretting your decision to remain in the kitchen instead of hiding in your room. 

“Watch a movie with me, please?” 

The “no” was already on the tip of your tongue but then you heard the “please” and your eyes moved to Jaemin’s face by themselves. His hands were pressing into the isle, shoulders raised as if he was trying to lift himself, the evident nervousness in his expression making you feel at a loss of words. 

You didn’t expect Jaemin to be shy. Why was he shy? To ask you to watch a movie with him? That made him shy? 

“Okay.” 

His eyes widened. “Okay?”

You almost laughed at how surprised he was and you had to admit that seeing him run around the kitchen to get to the living room was pretty adorable. 

A little sigh, as if a warning, left your lungs when you walked towards the couch. You were probably doing a mistake, but Jaemin - God - Jaemin was so kind. 

Watching his back as he was sat down on his knees in front of the tv, so eager to spend some time with you, even if it was fake, even if he didn’t really care, made your heart swell up. No one has behaved like that before. Maybe it was alright. 

“Okay, but I choose the movie,” you extended the hand and Jaemin got up, placing the remote controller on your palm. His smile never left his lips as you shuffled the options. “What about this?” Jaemin read the description with squinty eyes. "Oh, I don't like happy endings." You looked at him. "Why is that?" 

The boy remained quiet for a moment. 

"I think it's because you relate a lot to a sad story and it describes your life so well that you get mesmerized in it. You finally feel understood. Others are going through the same struggles. But then they get a happy ending and- you don't.”

Jaemin’s fingers played with one of the threads of his shorts and you blinked at his unexpected words. 

“It becomes a reminder of how your life could go if you were lucky like them. But you're not. That's when you can't relate anymore and it becomes even sadder. Instead of being a sort of relief, the happy ending is another punch in the gut, since I'll never be able to experience something like that,” he smiled after the last phrase as if he had just said that the best colour to decorate the cookies was blue. 

Suddenly it felt as if the reality was altered. 

Jaemin's face was a concentrated mask, trying to read other movies descriptions and you desperately wanted to touch it with your fingertips. 

But you touched the back of his hand instead and Jaemin looked down at his thigh before looking up. 

You didn’t know what expression you had on but the boy was so good at understanding people that you could have had a blank face and he would have known what you were feeling. 

He smiled warmly at you and held your hand, squeezing it a little bit. 

“I’m fine.” “It’s alright to be weak,” you almost talked on top of him. “Or to have desires.” 

Jaemin opened his mouth and closed it a few times like a fish and you both jolted when the ding of the oven told that the cookies were baked. 

The boy reluctantly let your hand go when you got up and walked towards the kitchen. 

The smell was incredible and despite the weird saddened energy of the room, you both smiled at each other when locking eyes.

_____

Jaemin got used to your love language very quickly. 

After cookies, came breakfast, and after that, it was the turn of a small gadget you found at the flea market. 

“It’s so ugly that the first person I thought of was you.”

You still kept the insulting wall but Jaemin loved that part of you as well. 

He ate your gratitude made of sweets and desserts, and looked at it in bed, rolling the little bald man made of wood on his palm. 

A night Jaemin would think a lot about, was when you were hammered, bodies spread on the living room floor, eyes closed, soft music in the background to make the ambience less awkward. But you didn’t care about awkwardness as soon enough, the only thing your dizzy heads could think of was nothing at all. 

With a wavering hand, Jaemin felt around him, searching for the bottle of “you’ve never tasted such good cognac before, I’m sure” cognac that Haechan sent him.

 And the “Oh, perhaps I’m getting engaged :P”.

Jaemin stared at the note for a long time then stared at the bottle of amber liquid, his hands gripping it hard. 

You took it from his hands before he could unreasonably smash it on the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

The bottle was put down on the kitchen counter and Jaemin looked at it first then at your concerned eyes, as you’ve started to do more often lately. 

Jaemin didn’t know what expression he had on but whatever it was, it made you take a few steps towards him when he didn’t reply. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out after a little while, trying to put on his normal smile. But when you wrapped his waist with your arms he didn’t stop the tears falling silently on his cheeks. 

He did not sob, nor wail. Jaemin just stood there, arms unable to hug you back. And when you dragged him by the hand, the bottle under your arm, making him sit down on the floor, he just obliged. 

“Let’s drink to that.” 

And Jaemin didn’t know if you meant his broken heart or Haechan’s happiness but he nodded and took a sip of the sweet drink. The bottle travelled back and forth between you until you couldn’t sit up anymore. 

Lying down, the sun setting, the same few songs playing on a loop since no one had the energy to change the playlist, Jaemin couldn’t find the bottle anymore so he just grabbed your hand instead. 

You didn’t say anything and intertwined your fingers with his, mind circling the spot Jaemin’s thumb was circling on your skin. 

"I feel like people love me for how I make them feel.”

The boy’s voice was hoarse and it made your chest tingle. 

You listened, squeezing his hand as to invite him to go on. 

“I know everything about them. I know how to make them feel good. I listen and I love. I love a lot.” 

“You do.”

Jaemin swallowed hard. 

You didn’t have to look to know that his cheeks were wet again. 

“I tried to be perfect. So I could be loved back.”

“You don’t have to do that. You just got an example of that not working very well anyway.”

A sniff. 

“I know. But the little amount I still get now, would it be there if I didn’t try as hard as I’m trying right now? Would people care about me if I wasn't perfect? Would they love me if I didn't do what they need me to? Honestly, I'm terrified to find out.” 

You sighed and let his hand go, rolling on your stomach and lifting your bust on our forearms to be able to look at Jaemin. 

The boy opened his reddened eyes and tilted his head to the side to meet your gaze. 

“If you try so hard and still get so little, you don’t need that love.” 

Jaemin blinked once, listening to your soothing voice, the evening breeze lightly swooshing his hair spread around his head. 

“As you said, they probably still love you for how you make them feel and not for how you are,” and Jaemin visibly flinched at the hard truth. “But,” you grabbed his hand again, not wanting to let him despair, “there are also people that love you because of who you are, even if you confuse them with those that love you for what you do. And I’m sure Haechan is one of them, it just didn’t go well.” “It didn’t have to go well. It has never been something that could go. It’s just my fault that-” but you shushed him pulling at his hand as to make him stop talking. “You can still admit that he hurt you. He didn’t do it on purpose but it’s not your fault either. And it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care about you. Sometimes you can try very hard and people would still not care in the same way that you do, and it’s alright. It’s not you. It’s them.” 

Jaemin kept his eyes closed as you talked, his chest rising with deep breaths and you placed a hand on it just like he did to you before. 

“Do you like me?” 

His question took you by surprise. 

“You can say no. I’m sorry, I’m putting a lot of pressure on you right now-” “I do.” 

The boy opened his eyes, staring at you from underneath his long lashes. “Why?” 

You stared down at your intertwined fingers. The truth was that you also liked him for how he made you feel. He never snapped, he accepted you, he tried hard to get to you and it was something that you’ve never experienced before. But what does that also mean about him? 

“Because you’re a beautiful human being.” 

Jaemin’s eyes widened imperceptibly. 

“You’re kind and patient and so sweet. And I know that it looks as if I’m saying only the stuff that has to do with me, like, you’re kind with me, and patient with me and sweet with me. But honestly, I would have liked you even if you were like that with other people and not with me.”

You looked up at his face and bit your lower lip. “Also, would you not like me if I understood you the way you understand others? Would that be only loving the way I make you feel? Would that be a bad thing?” “It’s a bad thing only if you were kind to me only to be loved back when in reality you’re not.” “Yeah. And you’re not doing that, are you? You think you’re not deserving of love without trying to be kind but you’re naturally like that, Jaemin. You’re just unhealthily pushing yourself sometimes. It’s not like you’d stop being kind if you stopped trying. Because you’re already kind. And people will love you the same.”  

The boy didn’t add anything to that. 

He pulled you by the hand until you softly landed on his chest and wrapped your body with his arms. 

You could feel his quick heartbeat under your chest and he probably could feel yours. His warm breath caressed your forehead until you fell asleep. 

_____

The day after, Jaemin was the usual boy. 

His teeth were the first thing you saw when you woke up with a groan.  “Good morning.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes focus on the background. “What the hell am I doing in your bed?” 

Jaemin giggled and tugged your body against his, making you realize that he has been hugging you the whole time. 

“Let me go!” you tried to escape but Jaemin didn’t budge. 

“We’re just cuddling,” his muffled voice on the sweatshirt you were wearing sounded whiny and sleepy. 

“Why are we cuddling? What the fuck happened last night?” 

Your body stiffened when Jaemin threw a leg on your hips like a koala. 

“Nothing. We got drunk and cried, then we fell asleep on the floor.” 

You waited. 

“And then I woke up and took ourselves on my bed where we cuddled some more until falling asleep again.” 

You waited some more. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Jaemin.” The boy raised his face from your shoulder to show you his innocent puppy eyes. “Like what?” “Like why I have nothing on besides your hoodie.” 

Jaemin’s face lit up in a bright smile and he hid his face into you again as if shy. 

“You were thirsty and drank water from the tap.” 

“And?” you were losing all of your patience while your cheeks heated up. 

“And your clothes got all wet.”

“Jaemin, for fuck’s sake, talk normally. Did you undress me?” 

The boy shook his head. “You took them off by yourself,” he paused. “While trying to give me a lap dance.” 

You choked on air and tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jaemin’s koala arms prevented you from doing so. 

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. 

“But you just took your clothes off and fell on me. Nothing happened. I forced you to wear my hoodie. Then you wanted to cuddle and we fell asleep as you kept saying how pretty my eyelashes are.” 

Oh my God. 

“And that’s it?” you asked with a little voice. 

Jaemin looked at you again and his face was so close that you felt as if on fire, the thought of being naked in front of him and doing stuff you couldn’t remember at all. 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” 

You hit him on the forehead and as he giggled, hands pressing on the spot, you could free yourself and run away in your room.

It was something you would have never imagined, the feeling between your legs.

 You breathed in and out, trying to calm yourself, but your skin still remembered where Jaemin’s hands were placed just seconds ago. And his breath on your neck. And your eyes couldn’t get rid of his sunlit chocolate eyes. 

Oh, fuck. 

This shouldn’t have happened. 

You didn’t predict this happening at all and it made you go crazy just like the heat spreading through your body as your hand slipped down your stomach. You didn’t think. Your mind was blank and your fingers moved on their own, teeth biting your lower lip, knees buckling until your frame slipped on the door and meeting the floor. Legs open and back pressed onto the hard wood, you closed your eyes and gasped, hoping that Jaemin’s hangover ears could not hear you.

_____

Jaemin loved how things started to go between you. Bad mannered and moody, you still snapped at him but didn’t run away when he would laugh and pull you into his arms. 

Perhaps Jaemin was making a mistake. The same mistake all over again. 

Perhaps he was giving and giving, thinking the other party felt the same, but he didn’t care anymore. That’s how he was. He wasn’t trying. He felt like hugging you and kissing your forehead just to hear your scream, loving the little smile blooming on your lips when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

He bathed into your silent affection and soon your affection became something else he wouldn’t have expected. 

“I think you should stay at home.” 

Jaemin adjusted his raincoat with furrowed eyebrows. You were standing near the wall of the corridor and watched him about to go out in the pouring rain. 

“Jaemin. There’s a storm outside. Your friend can just call a tow truck or something.” 

The boy has been in a rare bad mood for a little while that day and when he heard that his friend got a flat tire his mood didn’t get any better. And now, with you looking at him as if he was doing something wrong when his conscience was telling him it was the right choice made him unreasonable angry. Because he knew that he should probably listen to you. 

“I know.” 

You huffed. “Then tell him to go fuck himself and stay home.” Jaemin let his shoe fall down on the floor annoyed. “Why do you care so much suddenly?” and while saying it he was already regretting it but was unable to stop. “You’ve hated me since day one and now you care about my well-being?” 

You tightened your lips. “I don’t hate you. I thought-- you understood.” 

Your vulnerability made Jaemin close his eyes for a second. “Fuck, I do. I always do. I understand everyone and I hate it.” 

Sudden lighting made his face spectral and you took a step back. 

“Just stop being a human mat and stop doing stuff you don’t want to do. We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?” 

If the boy was cooling down, that phrase took it all out of the window. 

“You think it’s easy? Why don’t you stop saying no to everything and start being kinder then? We’ve talked about that as well. You can’t do it either.” 

“I bet I can go one day with saying yes to everything but you can’t go a day by saying no or doing what you want instead of what other people want,” you dared him. 

Jaemin scoffed. “Yeah, sure. I would want to see that.” 

You crossed your arms on your chest determined. “Okay. Starting from this moment I’m going to say yes. What about you? Are you going to refuse people and do what you want? I don’t think so.” 

Jaemin stared at you for a split second and his expression became one you’ve never seen him wear before. With a fluid movement, he filled the space between you until your faces were a breath away from each other. “I want to fuck you. How about that?” 

You almost gasped as you stared at his dark eyes, the storm outside the window giving him an even more dangerous aura. 

Gulping down, your mind started to run and search for an appropriate answer, but it wasn’t necessary as your lips betrayed you by forming a quiet “okay, deal.”

Jaemin’s pupils trembled as if he was surprised himself, yet his hands were quick, stripping him of his raincoat, letting it fall to his feet. 

“The safe word is,” he whispered slowly, “forest.”

You swallowed again, feeling your throat suddenly dry, then you chuckled trying to mask your nervousness. 

“Okay, but forest? Really? That’s very stupid-,” but you couldn't complete your shaky sentence as you found yourself dragged towards the bedroom and knocked on the bed in a second, ass up in the air with Jaemin’s hands on it. “Stupid?” he asked irritated. “Start fucking counting.”   You shivered even though your blood felt like boiling. Not in a thousand years, you would have expected Jaemin to manhandle you like that. 

Spank. 

A little yelp, more because of the surprise than the actual pain since your thick jeans didn’t really allow for much friction, escaped your lips. “One.” Your voice was trembling. “Good girl,” Jaemin’s voice was almost a deep whisper. 

Spank. 

“T-two,” you stuttered as Jaemin increased the force. 

Spank. 

You whined. “Three.” “God, I’ve wanted to do this the first time you left your dirty stuff in the sink and refused to clean up.”

Spank. 

“F-four. So you’re actually able to feel human emotions such as anger, huh?” you chuckled breathlessly. 

Spank. You moaned and your panties started to get too wet and hot for your liking. 

No five could come out of your lips as Jaemin grabbed your arms and rolled you over on your back. His eyes were full of fire and you felt your core tingle as he got on the bed as well, kneeling between your open legs, resting his weight on his hands pressed on each side of your head. “I’m going to stuff you up so hard. Let’s see if you’ll be able to talk back again, princess.” You were about to chuckle, pretending that his words didn’t affect you, but you lost it at the pet name. A little gasp left your lips in the form of a single breath and Jaemin got even closer as if catching it. “Oh, you like it? You want to be called like that?” he teased you. You gulped nervously and nodded. “Then I won’t do it,” he whispered, mouths almost touching. You raised your head to connect his lips with yours but Jaemin pulled away with a laugh until you couldn’t reach him anymore. Then he got closer again when you rested your head down. “Wanna kiss me?” his voice caressed your ears just the way one of his hands started to draw little circles down your neck. You turned your head to the side, giving him more space. “Hm?” he asked while the tip of his tongue traced the outline of your ear. You shivered at the sensation. “Yeah, wanna kiss you,” you replied, remembering the dare, even though, you realized with deep shame, you would have answered positively anyways. Jaemin’s soft chuckle added to the sensation growing between your legs and you would have rubbed them together if Jaemin’s bust weren’t there, so close to your core yet so far away. “Ask me nicely,” he ordered. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him, trying to flirt back, maybe making Jaemin weak the way he was making you feel. But the boy’s smile never flattered. “Do you not want to kiss me?” you fluttered your eyelashes. Jaemin shook his head. “No.” “I want to kiss you so badly though,” you tried again. “Sounds like a you problem.” “Okay, so you’re not actually able to feel human emotions,” you dropped the sugary tone. “This is pretty human in my book,” he lowered his hips grinding on you, his hard cock making you jolt even through the layers of clothes. “I have to do what I want right? Then I want to fuck you until there’s no trace of that attitude left, but on my terms,” and you would have replied if Jaemin didn’t rise on his knees again, looking at you sprawled in front of him like a full meal and if his hands didn’t go to your waistband, unbuttoning your pants and roughly dragging them down. Your legs fell on the bed like dead weight after the jeans were thrown somewhere in the room. Jaemin got between them again but not to do what you hoped he would. Instead, he reached on the shelves behind you and you recognized the sound before seeing the object: a pair of shiny metal handcuffs. Your eyes widened at the sight and Jaemin chuckled. “You want me to tie you up?” you tried to joke, knowing damn well that they weren’t for his wrists. Jaemin ignored your useless question and handcuffed you, tugging at the chain connecting your hands, making you whine as he hooked it to a nail above your head. You looked up, blaming yourself for not noticing it sooner and shivered at the sudden realization that Jaemin had probably done it very often. A little fear of what he might do to you crept in the back of your mind but instead of spreading panic through your body, it spread a wave of pleasure, collecting itself in a single pulsating point between your legs. “Tell me the truth. It’s the first time you’re not the one tied to the bed, right?” you teased him. “No, but it does look like it’s your first time, isn’t it, love?” his eyes were sweet and kind, the usual look Jaemin would give you in the morning or before going to bed, yet it changed in a second as he calmly slipped his fingers on your hips, getting under your panties and dragging them down your thighs. He twirled them around his finger a few times, the tip of his tongue moisturizing his dry lips as he drank in the view of your spread legs. “You’re not taking off this?” you tried to drift his attention to your face instead, shimming your bust as to indicate what you were talking about, suddenly very shy of you being so exposed to him and definitely not used to the look on his face. But Jaemin didn’t budge. He still stared where he wanted, as if almost caressing you with his gaze as he replied. “It would be a shame. That’s my hoodie, isn’t it? Tell me,” he got closer, hovering over you, finally looking at you in the eyes, making you regret that he wasn’t looking away as before, “does it still have my perfume on? Were you thinking about me today just as you touched yourself that time while wearing it?” he purred and chuckled at your shocked expression. “This apartment has very thin walls, angel. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you my little secret as well, yeah?” You nodded breathlessly. “I was fucking my fist to your pretty moans as well, thinking about your sweet lips wrapped around my cock,” he rubbed his thumb on your lower lip, making you open your mouth as if about to kiss you, then smirked. “What about you? Were you thinking about this-” he let his hand fall from your face down your body until reaching between your legs, touching your wet core with two fingers, dragging them up and down slowly. You jolted, inhaling sharply at the feeling, eyes unable to stay open. “-or maybe this?” his voice was a whisper as his fingertips circled your clit, snapping a whine out of you. His shiny necklace was dangling in front of your face, then it laid on your chest as he got closer and pressed his lips on your neck, sucking your skin in, playing with it with his tongue. “Was it perhaps this?” he spoke again as he easily slipped his middle finger inside of you. The wet sounds of him pumping your pussy made you even more aroused and it probably had the same effect on Jaemin since a little low growl roared in his chest. He slipped another finger in. “Do you hear it? So wet and all for me,” his hot breath ghosted your ear. “Jaemin, please,” you mumbled, the building up sensation keeping you on the edge but not enough to grow to what your gut needed. Jaemin raised his bust and sat down on his heels with a cocky smile, looking at the way his fingers disappeared inside you, glistening with your juices. “You’re in no position to ask for anything, angel,” he reminded you calmly. “But I appreciate the please. Now, let’s learn to say thank you as well, shall we?” You whined, rocking your hips against his hand, urging him to go faster. The boy raised an eyebrow at your eagerness and let himself down on his elbows between your legs. “Do you want to feel my tongue?” “Yes, yes, please,” you replied, all of your pride out of the window. “Like this?” he licked your inner thigh. You protested and it only made Jaemin more amused. “Sorry, like this?” he drew a line on one of your lips, so close yet so far. “Jaemin, I’ll fucking make you pay,” you spoke through your teeth and Jaemin clicked his tongue as if disappointed, retrieving his fingers from you and leaving you all empty. “No, no, no,” you wailed, eyes wide staring at him. “What was that? Did I hear some-” he cupped his ear with one hand in a playful act, “-attitude?” “Shit, Jaemin, you said you’re going to fuck the attitude out of me, yet here you are, not doing anything to me.” Jaemin’s smile disappeared in a second leaving space for a dark expression. Usually, he would have continued to smile, but this Jaemin was a different person. “Oh, be careful what you wish for, angel,” he whispered and dove into your core, not leaving you a single second to breathe in properly. You moaned hard feeling his quick tongue, curling your toes and tugging at the handcuffs keeping your arms painfully above your head. “Oh oh- fuck me,” and he did it, lapping at your wetness, fingers shoved back inside of you, quick to find your sweet spot thanks to your increasing moans guiding his movements. His name on your whiny lips probably made him insane since he started to move even quicker, so quick to make you arch your back, not stopping even when you started to uncontrollably shake, coming all over his tongue. Your legs tried to get together but Jaemin didn’t agree with that, slapping your thighs away his with free hand and diving back in, sucking on your clit as if nothing happened. You cried out and mumbled something about stopping but Jaemin didn’t accept anything besides the safe word. Deaf to your protests, he ravaged you until hearing your loud whimpers again, this time shaking so hard that the bed frame moved with you, your wrists hurting as you tugged at the handcuffs again. Only then Jaemin lifted himself on his knees again, breathless, your juices wetting his lips and chin, a thin layer of sweat matting his fringe to the forehead. “How are we feeling, baby?” he grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and undressed himself, revealing one of the best bodies you’ve seen in real life. Unable to speak, still coming down from your high, you just stared at him, fucked numb, and he still didn’t even put his cock to good use yet. “Good,” Jaemin seemed satisfied as he caressed his abs, going down to the waistband of his grey sweats with a slow movement. He teased you like that for a second, loving the way your eyes were trained on his hard one. “You want it?” he asked with a smirk, palming it and outlining its form. “Yes,” you managed to say. Jaemin clicked his tongue. “You’re back to speaking now. Better do something about it,” he commented and took off his bottoms alongside his boxers. In a single movement, your legs were around his waist and the tip of his cock was tasting your entrance. Jaemin moved it up and down with his hand, spreading your abundant juices on it, making you almost whimper with expectation before finally filling you up slowly with a deep grunt. And you felt every centimetre of it, stretching you out, making the air leave your lungs in the same moment until you felt it hit far inside where no cock has possibly touched before. “Shit-” Jaemin whispered as you moaned, slowly making more space inside your tight walls by swiftly rolling his hips. He didn’t need to keep the pace low for a long time though as you quickly adjusted to his girth, high pitched pleasure whimpers leaving your rough throat instead of pained ones. Jaemin swore again, thrusting every time faster, grabbing your legs and putting them on his shoulders, hitting it from a better angle. "Louder, baby. I want to hear your moans." You bit your lower lip, the remnants of your brattiness lingering on your tongue. "Then make me moan, Jaemin-," and in that second you realized that you've fucked up. Jaemin descended in a breath, making your thighs touch your chest, one of his hands deeply pressed into the pillow, the other tightened around your throat. He was quick. Oh, he was so quick you felt like you were about to go blind. "Like this? Huh?" the creak of the bed and the slapping of the skin almost covering his teeth spoken questions. When you came you felt your eyes roll back and Jaemin finally let you inhale, oxygenating your fucked out brain. Little pleas slipped your trembling lips, imitating your shaking muscles. But Jaemin didn't stop until you felt his hot cum spurting deep inside of you, making you clench hard around him, finally hearing his choked moans as well. His hips moved and moved until you begged. “Jaemin, Jaem- I can’t, I can’t take this anymore." “You know what to say, angel. A single word and I’ll stop,” he reminded you. You bit your lower lip, staring at him in the eyes. “Oh, so you like it that much, huh? Like - a - little - slut," he accompanied each of his last four words with a deep thrust. "Your tight little pussy can’t take it anymore but you still want it, isn’t that right, princess? You like to be used like this, just as I please. You’re filled up so much that it’s dripping out, baby. Would you let me use your other pretty holes as well?” “Fuck, Jaemin, you’re driving me crazy,” you whined, a few warm tears collecting to the sides of your eyes. “Oh, my baby is crying because it’s that good? Do you love it? You want more of my cock, right?” he cooed sweetly. “Yes, yes, please,” you squirmed underneath him. “No,” he shook his head amused slipping out of your hot pussy, slapping your clit with his tip. You jolted and tugged at the handcuffs. Jaemin smiled and jerked his cock between your legs. "Oh, fuck," his voice darkened as his fingers wrapped his glistening cock, fucking himself while looking at your abused pussy. He was so hot, with strands of wet hair to hide his eyes, open red lips to let out deep grunts and his abs flinching when his thumb would press into the tip of his cock that a little whine escaped your lips. "Give it to me." Jaemin looked up at your begging face with a smirk, hand not slowing down at all. "Where do you want it?" You let your tongue out and you could visibly see the moment during which Jaemin forced a moan down his throat. In a second your arms were down and you sighed relieved as he silently unlocked the handcuffs. But you didn't live that pleasurable moment for long that your bruised wrists were grabbed again to make you stand up on your knees in front of him. Jaemin looked at your face for a short while, almost tenderly, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, before he gripped your head and forced your on all fours, his other hand keeping his cock aligned to your face. You whimpered at the sudden movement but opened your mouth, looking up at Jaemin, waiting for him to do whatever he wanted to you. And he did just that. A choked moan vibrated up his length as he thrust on your tongue, making you taste yourself and his cum at once. Jaemin hummed once then whined, stopping the air inside his nose as if choking before releasing it with through his open mouth and it was so sexy that you desired to listen to his sounds forever. And they got louder as you bobbed your head, his hands loosely gripping your face before palming your shoulders and back, going further until reaching your ass and grabbing it, kneading your soft flesh, shoving himself even further inside your throat. Overstimulated, it took him less time to cum the second time and you loved it how briefly at your mercy he was when you let his cock out, a little string of saliva connecting your tongue to his tip, jerking him off until feeling his seed paint your face. "So fucking hot, fuck-," he groaned, staring down at your expression until you milked him all up. 

Both breathless you just looked at each other until a little smile broke on your lips. He followed suit and chuckled, one trembling hand searching for his t-shirt to clean you up. 

"Wait," he said when you sat up,  putting one finger to your cheek and sucking it clean. 

"Delicious," you raised one eyebrow. "Yeah, I bet," Jaemin replied sarcastic one hand sliding on your jaw while the other cleaned up your cheeks. You closed your eyes with a smile and waited for him to be done, not expecting the little peck he places on your lips. 

When you opened your eyes surprised, Jaemin continued to pat your skin as if nothing happened. 

"What was that?" you inquired. 

The boy blinked at you innocently. "You had something on your lips."

Your smile grew. "And it's all off now? I think there's some left. Wanna check?" 

Jaemin let the t-shirt go on the side in that instant and kissed you deeply, almost making you fall on your back. It was soft and careful, yet so intense that if you wouldn't have felt so spent it would have turned you on again. And maybe you still could go on for a while because when Jaemin tilted your head to the side and circled your tongue with his, you could have sworn that the heat between your legs came back stronger than ever. 

"Wait here," he whispered on your skin and got up, letting you admire the back view until he disappeared outside the room. 

With a deep sigh, you let yourself fall on the bed again, stretching your sore muscles, the realization that you've just had some mad sex slowly creeping in. 

When Jaemin came back you were almost drifting to sleep, lulled by the sound of the rain. 

"Come." A little whine rolled out of your lips as you opened your eyes again. Jaemin smiled looking at you for a few moments before sliding his arms under your knees and waist. 

"Jaemin, wait, no-," you jolted awake but not being able to do anything besides wrapping your arms around his neck. "You can't carry me-," but he shushed you and in a few moments you were already in the bathroom, the hot water still filling the bathtub. 

He put you down and held your waist when you realized your legs were still wobbly and helped you step inside the soapy water. When he followed suit, placing himself behind you and pulling you towards him, you felt your cheeks on fire. 

"You alright?" he whispered, hands already trained on your body, massaging your body softly. 

You nodded and inhaled sharply as he traced your bust with two fingers, going down between your legs. "Jaemin-," your thighs closed around his wrist while your face pressed on his bicep to your left. 

His soft chuckle brushed against your temple. "I'm not doing anything. Just cleaning you out," he had the courage to say. When you arched your back he retrieved his hand and grabbed a soft loofah. With gentle and careful strokes, he passed it on your skin starting from the chest and shoulders then going down on your torso, giving a little bit too much attention to your breasts. Too turned on but also embarrassed about him washing you up, you could just stare at the way the bubbly water dripped on your skin and when he ordered you to turn around, you couldn't bear to look at him in the eyes. Hands on our ankles, as you rested your back to the other side of the tub, he worked your legs up slowly, enjoying the view and your shy expression maybe too much. 

"You're so beautiful," he commented in a low, playful tone and you felt like asking him to get you off for the nth time that night. 

Perhaps it showed on your face or maybe he could read minds, but when he reached your inner thighs, he let he loofah float and touched you with his fingers, pulling you towards him until you straddled his lap. 

"The bet is off now. You can insult me just like before," he smirked while his fingers made their way between your aching folds. 

The breath you inhaled was shaky and you had to press your forehead against his, your hands restless on his wet shoulders. 

"I wasn't like that because of the bet," you confessed and Jaemin's pupils visibly trembled while his lips curved in a little smile. "And I'm not like this now because of it either."

A low sound vibrated in Jaemin's chest before he whispered against your open mouth. 

"So you saying that you're actually a good girl?" 

You nodded, unable to speak as the boy's fingers picked up the pace on your clit. 

"I know," he placed a peck on the corner of your mouth, "you're such a good girl," a peck on your jaw, "especially for me" a peck on your neck. 

You exhaled with a whine and let your head fall back, digging your nails into his skin, finally being able to touch him as you've wanted to do before. Jaemin took the opportunity to let his lips descend to your nipples, sucking them inside the warmth of his mouth, twirling the buds with his wet tongue until it was unbearable for you to not moan his name uncontrollably. 

Your body was all mush when you came again with an almost scream, pulling his head against your chest until his fingertips left your throbbing clit and traced your thigh, going around it and palming your ass. When you finally unclenched your arms from around his neck, he looked up from between the swell of your breasts with a soft giggle. 

"Sorry," you mumbled but he shook his head, a kind of adoration in his eyes that you've never seen before. 

"I loved it-," he started but stopped abruptly afterwards, as if not wanting to let the words aching on his tongue to roll freely. 

You sat down deeper on his thighs until your eyes were at the same level. 

"And?" you touched his chest slowly, fingers still trembling from the high. 

He swallowed, mind running at an incredibly high speed reflected in his suddenly troubled eyes. 

"And I think that-- fuck, I might love you as well." 

Oh. 

It made your whole body shake again. 

Jaemin noticed and you wondered what kind of expression you had on to make him look so worried all of a sudden. 

"Is it too much? Too soon?" he cupped your face with one hand.  

You couldn't look him in the eyes. "I don't know-- I just-" 

Jaemin shushed you. "It's alright. You don't have to do or say anything."

You shook your head and raised your gaze. "I just- I really want to let myself go and believe it."

The boy stayed silent for a moment as if wondering what his next words should be and you hated it. Nights and nights of talking freely with him made you understand how refreshing it was to be yourself and not walk on eggshells around people. And you knew that Jaemin felt the same. Seeing him now, delicate fingers on your skin as if afraid to break you, made your heart ache.  

"You care too much, Jaemin. Don't worry about me like this. We've talked about it."

Jaemin briefly licked his lower lip. "How can I not care about you when no one has cared about you before?" 

And you choked on the amount of tears that suddenly made your vision blurry.  

The boy pulled you towards him and you rested your forehead on his shoulder. "I know," he talked with a shaky voice, "I know I'm too kind and all that stuff and everything you've said is true, I need to change for my own sake, but-," his arms held you even more tightly, "not when it comes to you. I want to be like that with you. And I'm going to change, yes, I'll say no and refuse to do things people ask of me if this is what you want."

His words didn't make your sobs slow down but you raised your face and touched his cheeks. 

"Then I want you to care about yourself the way you care about me, Jaemin." 

"I care about myself now, because you care about me." 

You chuckled. "That's still doing stuff for other people." Jaemin smiled and stroked your under eye with his thumbs. "It's not for other people. It's for you. Because I love you, Y/N." 

You bit your lower lip as a new tide of tears announced their way. 

“I never said I care about you though,” your lower lip trembled after you let it go. “You don’t have to say it.” “I hate you.” “Yeah,” he kissed your lips. “And I don’t like cuddles and I don’t like breakfast.” “Yeah,” he kissed you again. 

And again. 

Until you didn’t let him go anymore and he was sure of being loved back. 

[angry-geese]

Favourite Worst Nightmare

Secco x Reader and that gross green guy i guess >:(

Warnings: sfw. Mentions of violence and injury but nothing too graphic. A little suggestive towards the end. Gn!Reader

Notes: ehhh idk what this is but I feel like i should apologize for it. Reader ends up running a job for Cioccolata and Secco and survives the encounter

Part Two

There were very few things you hated more than running packages for Unita Speciale.

As a courier, you were one of the more replaceable- albeit necessary- parts of the gangs; the gears that kept the machine of Passione running. To put it lightly, this was never a life you wanted. When you came to Italy you never planned on spending the rest of your days as a half-rate mobster.

Technically, you worked independently. You didn't fall under the jurisdiction of any specific group. It was a fancy way of saying you were on your own. God help you if you accidentally pissed someone off because no one was coming to your rescue. Considering you could be targeted by warring gangs for running packages, you hoped the pay would be decent.

It wasn't.

Italy's underground wasn't how you expected it to be. It was harsh- you knew it'd be like that- but nothing like the mafia movies you watched as a kid. As cheesy as it sounds, they were still people, each with their own stories to tell. Being in your position, you listened. It was safer to play along and make friends than become the enemy of your worst nightmare. Jobs for smaller groups were typically safer but didn't pay enough to survive. Those with more reach- specifically ones closer to the boss- paid better.

From the outside, the building was unassuming. It was once an apartment complex- still is, technically- but only two people live there. Long ago it was designated as a hideout.

You've never spent much time at the place. You weren't often desperate enough to take their jobs. People talked. It's reputation was not unknown to you. You were well aware of the doctor and his... whatever the hell the other guy was. Assistant doesn't feel like the right word, and pet- however fitting- seems a bit dehumanizing. Though maybe it should. You've been warned these two were dangerous.

The sooner you get this over with the better.

You knock in the pattern Passione uses to identify other members. Two-three-two.

A set of unblinking purple eyes stares at you from the crack in the door. Part of you is glad its him who answered the door and not the other one. Your meetings with them have been few, and only in passing. These are not people you want to give the benefit of the doubt. Physically, Secco isn't very imposing. But beneath Oasis is lithe muscle that could drop you in an instant.

You pull the package from you bag, offering it to him.

"What is it?" He asks.

"A parcel." You say.

You know better than to open it, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't tempted to. It's likely money. Which you could use, though they'd notice it missing before you could even leave the city. Someone seemed to want it- evident by the man who attacked you. Clearly you won, but you didn't come out unscathed.

"Let them in." Someone says from the other room. It's faint, but clear.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand.

The room is sparsely furnished, with a single leather couch and coffee table, and blank walls. If you hadn't been told someone lived here, you would think the place was empty. It's sterile, white, and clinical in every sense of the word. At least get some decorations or something. You may be a mafioso, but you at least make your apartment look lived in. They don't seem to take interest in creature comforts the way you do.

The door seems to echo in the room as its shut. You take a few stiff steps forward, stopping just a few feet from the entrance. Its then the other man appears- covered up to his elbows in blood. He has the gall to look rather annoyed.

"You brought a gun," Cioccolata circles you, "cute."

"It's nothing personal, Signore." You say. "I need to defend myself."

"Are you not a stand user?" He asks.

"No."

It feels safer to lie. Maybe he'll go easier on you. Having gained one rather recently- and then never using it- meant you didn't have the best grasp on your abilities.

"Sit," he switches out his gloves for a new pair, "I'll stitch up that wound."

"That's not necessary."

"Consider it payment," he passes the package off to Secco.

Despite everything within you telling you to run, you sit. It's only a stab wound, though you should get it checked out. God forbid it gets infected. Someone like him doesn't do good deeds, but nothing about this strikes you as dubious. Often times people offered you smokes or drinks in return, this isn't too different.

He doesn't numb the wound before stitching it up. It hurts, but not bad enough to say something. Part of you is alright with that- he didn't drug you. That thought is comforting.

Those unblinking eyes stare up at you from your lap. Secco's hand not-so subtly reaches into your bag, pulling out a stash of chocolate you meant to save for later. The two of you lock eyes.

"That's a weird looking dog." You don't really mean to say it out loud.

He sits by your feet, gnawing on the sweets, rubbing up against your leg like a cat. As uneasy as it makes you, you fear his reaction if you ask him to stop. It wouldn't kill you to suffer through a few minutes of this. Pissing him off might.

"Secco seems to like you." Cioccolata mentions.

You're not sure how you feel about that. It doesn't seem quite so innocent.

"Those sutures can come out in a week." He says. "I'm sure you know the drill; don't get them wet, keep them clean, don't tear the wound back open."

You gather your things and leave.

Maybe that job lured you into a false sense of security.

If they wanted you dead, you would be. The reasoning seems sound enough in your head.

You'd go on to run more packages for them.

The pay was decent enough. Nobody else tried to mug you. People in general gave you a wide berth. For the most part, you were left alone. Whether they had something to do with it- or if it was just rumors- you'd never know. You didn't question it. To be the one who looked the mad doctor in the eyes and live was reason enough. Your situation was far from good, but you were a long stretch from being at rock bottom.

It became a routine for you. Your run wasn't long, and it wasn't in a shady part of town either. Get to a pickup point, deliver the package, try not to die. You got comfortable.

Secco opens the door before you can even knock. He seems to have a sixth sense for whenever you're around. He does his usual act of raiding your bag for sweets- of which you make sure to keep a small stash of. It keeps him occupied, and usually far away from you.

You sit while Cioccolata finishes up whatever he's doing in the basement. Don't question it. Those definitely weren't screams. You should know better than to go poking around where you don't belong. Despite growing used to the sterile nature of their apartment, the basement brought up a visceral fear in you.

Secco practically climbs into your lap. Despite not being too imposing physically, he's heavy. You absentmindedly scratch his head while you wait.

"Stay with us," Secco runs his icy hands up your sides, squeezing the fleshy parts of your hips. His grip is strong, and only tightens when you try to squirm away. He grows tired of you struggling, and pulls you up into his arms, heading towards the basement.

[sweetwritertanya]

Dressed Up For Halloween (Jungkook)

Summary: You have to work on Halloween and you go dressed as a character your boyfriend likes very much. You are not ready for how worked up he was once you got home.

Warnings: SMUT! There will be: erotic body touching, boob-job, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (be safe out there!), doggy-style, aftercare.

Word Count: 3181

The idea came to you early in the month, when you were working at the coffee shop your boyfriend and his friends always like to come to, being close to their company and discreet enough that they could enter in small groups without being recognized instantly. There was still the one or another who recognized them, but always manageable. As you came with a bunch of drinks that they ordered to their table, you realized they were planning a movie marathon to get them in the Halloween spirit. And amongst all the movies the group discussed about seeing, Jungkook was very fixated on watching one in particular, saying the name over and over until they agreed it was on the list: The Nightmare Before Christmas.

You made a mental note of it, kissed him on the head, to which he scrunched up his nose as cheeks grew pinker, and went back to do your job.

A quick order online, a trip to the shop to buy some fishnet tights and a new pair of black heel boots, and your outfit for this Halloween was all set up. Not only would your boyfriend appreciate it, it was a good choice for you to wear to your work place, since your boss as asked the employees at the coffee to wear a costume on the 31st, as a way to please costumers.

Halloween came around rather quickly and, much to your frustration, Jungkook actually had half of the day off. He was currently on the living room, playing games in the big screen tv. And, of course, you had the evening shift at the coffee shop, thus you wouldn’t be able to stay with him.

So, here you were, in the bedroom, putting on the colorful dress with mismatched patterns, the fishnets tights and the boots, letting your hair down to resemble the character the best it could, some elongating mascara for your eyelashes and a deep red lipstick. Apart from the blueish skin and all the stitches, you actually resembled her quite nicely. If they ever saw the movie, everyone would certainly recognize who you were.

You get out of the bedroom and into the living room, your boyfriend currently with his back to you, headphones on and focused on the busy screen in front of him while you walked behind the couch in the direction of the door.

“I’m leaving, Kookie. See you later tonight, okay?” you say goodbye with a resented voice.

“Hum? Oh, okay, I-” Jungkook takes off his headphones that fall around his neck as he turns to look at you.

You almost miss his reaction while you grab the coat from the closet at the entrance. The way those round bright eyes enlarge so greatly you can see the full ebony iris, a hint of recognition and astonishment behind that sparkle, how his lips fall apart in the tiniest of openings, straight and thick eyebrows raising up in his forehead. His body sits frozen in the couch, only really reacting when he sees you putting on your coat with a shy smile on your lips.

“You, huh…!” he gets up in a jump, letting go of the controller in his hands and coming to stand in front of you, eyes roaming up and down your voluptuous figure. “You’re dressed up as Sally. You dressed up for Halloween.”

“Yeah” you respond, flattered by the way his eyes keep lingering at you in interest. “My boss told us to bring our best outfit to work on the coffee shop. So, I’m going as Sally.”

“It’s so pretty” he murmurs, almost in a daze until he looks back at your eyes and corrects himself. “You look so pretty, Y/N. As always.”

You giggle at his compliment and lean in to give him a long peck on those uneven lips, adoring their warmth of softness against your own.

“Thank you, baby. I’ll be back before eleven at night” you inform as you step backwards and turn to go out the door.

“What, wait!”

Jungkook stops you by getting a hold of your hand, keeping you from opening the main door and instead you stand back in front of him, with raised eyebrows in surprise and confusion. You recognize the look of disappointment in his eyes, a slight pout already taking over his larger lower lips in the cutest of ways.

“You need to go? Like… Like right now? I only just saw you in your costume.”

“Well, I told you I had to work today, Kookie. And, yeah, I’ll admit I chose this costume because I knew you would like it, but that was before I knew I had to work the late shift” you explain.

But he is not really keen on letting you go and it shows when he effortlessly pulls you close by your hand despite your hefty weight, attaching his hands to your waist and back while his face gets hidden at the crook of your neck. His breath hits your skin as he speaks, creating goosebumps before he kisses it.

“I don’t want you to go. I wanna be the Jack to your Sally” he whines.

As he kisses up your neck and across your soft jaw, you struggle to remain focused and responsible, when in reality all you wanted was to ditch your work and stay home with him.

“Baby, I can’t. I need to go now, but I’ll be back. Just wait for me, okay? I’m all yours then” you assure him, sneaking past his arms with heated cheeks and chills down your spine.

“Promise?” he sulks, albeit letting you go as you open the door.

“Promise.”

He would hold you up to that promise.

As soon as you came back through the front door, barely closing it behind you, he jumps out of nowhere to hold you tight against his muscular arms. You yelp at the abruptness of it all, your purse falling out of your hands as his arms wrap around you like bindweeds, his lips regaining their position across the skin of your jaw and neck as if they never left.

“How was your day?” he asks in a whisper between the kisses at your pulse point, as if it was just a normal conversation.

It takes you a few solid seconds for you to get a grip and process what was happening, realizing he asked you a question you had yet to answer.

“It… It was fine, I think. What… what’s happening?” your confusion is more than evident in your voice as you regain your balance by holding on to Jungkook’s delightedly strong arms.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you since you left” he confesses, leaning back just to stare at your face while his cheeks and earlobes glow red. You find it so puzzling, how he could just jump on you like that and then be this shy when actually looking at you. It made your heart flip. “How pretty you looked. How I wished you would’ve stayed. I couldn’t focus, I didn’t even play my game, I was letting my team down so I logged off.”

“It’s… It’s just a cute Sally outfit, Kookie” you say, blinking as you keep your gaze on his, large hands still holding you close by your lower back.

“It just suits you so well. A-And not just your body! Your personality as well. I never realized it until today. You are my own little Sally who treats me as if I was the center of your world and I never got to show how much I thank you for it.”

You bite your bottom lip and tilt your head at him, wondering how a Halloween outfit could remind him of this, of how much you adored him. But you weren’t about to stop him, for sure.

“Well” you shrug, with a warm smile. “Show me, then.”

He giggles and you chuckle back until the sound dies out just a moment before your lips meet, engaging in caresses that have you standing on your feet and tremors run down your back while you lean in to him. He holds you close and tight, his hands roaming your curvaceous body and brushing over every inch they could, from your rolls to your fluffy bits, squeezing and folding.

You are melting into his touch, heart jumping out of your chest, when his tongue flicks at your top lip, requesting your permission. You gladly give him entrance as you open your mouth and allow him access to every single crevice, tongue twinning with yours making your shudder. He tastes like a spicy nectar that sets your whole body on fire, effortlessly doing so and instigating breathless moans from you when his lips close around your tongue and he sucks on it.

You throw your head back in order to breathe and he attacks your neck instead. You don’t even realize it, but he has taken off your coat, leaving you in the costume’s dress, and is slowly guiding you to the couch. Once your bum hits the back of the couch, your hands grasp at the solid item while his hands found themselves just underneath your breasts.

“As much as I love this dress, can I take it off now?” he questions, one hand already travelling around your back searching for the zipper.

“Yes, please” you authorize, breathless.

He unzips the long zipper at your back while you kiss at his beautiful neck, feeling beneath your lips as he swallows and sighs heavily. Once he does it, he brushes the sleeves down your shoulders and arms, the fabric of the dress gathering at your wide stomach. You stand in order to pull it the rest of the way down and Jungkook takes advantage of your distraction to pull his hoodie off his body in an elegant move.

When you throw the dress away, standing now only in your fishnets and black matching underwear, you look back at him to find him shirtless, strong sculptured muscles on display and your fingers twitch and inner muscles of your belly contract at the sight. Subconsciously, you lick your lips while he takes in your feminine shape, the way your body looked so incredibly soft and warm and welcoming.

“I really love your body, so much” he confesses in a breathy whisper. “Especially these.”

Jungkook’s hands attach themselves to the malleable fat of your breasts, cupping them and watching his fingers sinking in to the flesh, adoring the way he could barely hold them in the palm of his hands. Your back arches into his touch without your control and he begins teasing at your puckered peaks, brushing his thumbs on top of them and tweaking them as if tunning an old radio. You moaned and squirmed, this unbelievable tension forming deep down inside.

With hooded eyes, you follow the lines of his abdominal muscles down with your digits, adoring their hardness that contrasted so much with your softness. Reaching the edge of the sweatpants he was wearing, you can’t help but notice the line of his manhood, growing ever more noticeable.

“Let… Let me try something for you, baby” you decide, having an idea.

Taking hold of his wrists and bringing them down, you grab his shoulders and make him spin so he is the one against the back of the couch now. Slowly, you kiss his neck and descend down his heated body, taking in every shaking breath and gasp as you went. Soon you are on your knees, facing the tent that had formed on his pants. Pulling the sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles at the same time, you are met with his engorged and pulsing dick, crown pink and throbbing the more you looked at it.

“W-What are you- Ohh!”

Jungkook’s question is answered even before he finishes it, as you take hold of your breasts yourself and place them on either side of his cock, pressing into him. With curious eyes, you look up at him, only the tip of his cock peaking through your cleavage. He is blushed and buggy-eyed, breathing through his parted lips.

“Feels good?” you ask.

“Y-Yeah. Very much” he assured you.

And so, you continue with this new technique, getting a hold of it as you study his reactions. He liked when you pressed your tits together, smothering his cock in between them, and started to move them up and down repeatedly. The tip that rarely got to disappear into your cleavage seemed left out, so you took it upon yourself to lick at the little crown and, when you felt his legs shudder at that, you even began to suck and take it into your mouth the best you could, tongue swirling around it.

“A-Ahh… Y-Y/N, come here!”

He pulls your body up smoothly by your arms, squishing you into him as he kisses you deep and passionately, tasting himself on your tongue. He swirls you two around and, once more, you are the one against the back of the couch.

“Let me return the favor” he murmurs against your bruised lips.

Falling to his knees, you squeal as he begins leaving deep kisses alongside your tick thighs, hands caressing the sides of them as his head made its way in between them, kissing up the inner part. His fingers hook around the fishnets and the panties you were still wearing, pulling them off swiftly when you lift your rump to help him do so.

His strong hands grab you by the knees and push them apart, revealing your needy core to him. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to delve his head in, mouth coming in contact with your folds and tongue delving in between them, flicking the drenching silky-smooth flesh. Your body jolts at that first touch and you cry out, one hand of yours clawing at the couch while the other grasps at the fluffy hair on top of head. He starts moving his tongue, up and down your slit, swirling it around your hole and you can’t help it, you are pushing him in, wanting more and more. Your pussy is clenching under the amount of unbelievable tension that has formed, as if it was a giant knot that continuously has its strings being pulled, bound to crumble eventually.

Jungkook’s hands keep your thighs steady as they struggle to not suffocate him, your body resisting the urge to close them around his head. He keeps slurping on your juices and moving his face around in the most infuriatingly pleasurable way, making you moan and whimper out loud, his nose rubbing at that incredibly sensitive button every time he moved.

Your whole body felt like it was catching fire and you could feel your insides clenching around nothing as he tirelessly persisted. You wanted – no, you needed – more.

“Kook…! Jungkook, stop” you say, and he leans back to look up at you, dark blown-out eyes and red lips coated in your essence. “I want you, now, Jungkook.”

He smiles as he gets up, almost smugly, before asking you to turn around with a twist of his wrist. You place your forearms on the couch’s back to brace yourself and present your ass up to him, wiggling it as your legs kept creating some friction for your throbbing center. You mewl as Jungkook’s body bends over yours, his torso warming up your bare back and arms wrapped around your protruding stomach while his length rubbed against your slit.

“Ready?” he asks before kissing at the back of your shoulder.

“Yeah” you respond.

He enters you then, slowly inch by inch, as if savoring every moment, every feeling of your walls stretching out for him as he delved a bit deeper. When he reached balls deep, a tremor cursed through your body as his tip was placed against your cervix, the most stirring feeling cursing through your body and short-circuiting your brain.

You can tell he is trying to take it slow, kissing down your back as his hips thrusted back and forth in strong and deep movements, but not quick. It was still enough to have you gasping at every time he reached deep, the tension building leisurely. But once he finished kissing the skin of your back, standing back up and placing his hands on your wide hips, watching your skin jiggle every time he plunged into your tight pussy, the rhythm accelerated. And your hips started to move too, meeting him halfway as you raced to your end too.

“Ahh… Faster, Jungkook! Fast, baby, faster” you beg in a whiny voice, backing your hips up into his.

His answer, rather than words, ends up being a grunt and his subsiding actions. Jungkook leans back down above your chest only for his hands to come and squeeze at your hanging tits, while his hips snapped faster and faster against yours, his twitching shaft dragging against your walls persistently and stimulating all the right spots as it did so.

The sounds are lewd to say the least, your breathless moans and his grinding groans, the rapid sound of skin against skin and the squelching, revealing exactly how immensely drenched you were for him. Your back arches and you lean your head against the couch as you feel the edge approaching with each push of his cock against your cervix, crown finding that particular spot that made you an absolute mess.

Jungkook pinches and rubs at your nipples as he struggles to keep the human-defying quick thrusts, only to succumb to his own need and release his hot seed in several pumps into your core once he felt your walls collapsing impossibly tight around his cock, sucking him dry.

Both of you reach your climaxes at the same exact time, you crying out his name while he bit down on your shoulder and squeezed your tits so tightly you had to check the next day if he left marks. You felt his warm thick essence fill your womb as your body shook with the waves of absolute bliss crashing down on you. It took you both a while to regain control over your bodies.

Jungkook slips out and you hear him running out into the kitchen. You turn around in time to see him come back with a towel in his hand, a guilty expression on his bashful face.

“Sorry. Here, to clean up.”

He hands you the towel and you gently clean the juices running down your legs and the few drops already on the floor.

“No worries, I had every intention of taking a shower once I got home, anyway” you appease him.

Jungkook brings you in for a hug and kisses your temple before starting to gather the clothes thrown on the floor.

“Can I join?”

You chuckle.

“Of course.”

It was in the middle of a very relaxing shower that you hear him gasping loudly and, worried, you look back at him.

“What is it?”

“Oh no… After today, there is no way I can see The Nightmare Before Christmas with the guys ever again!”

[sanders-sides-fic]

A hole of your shape in my heart

So… My brain went to war with me today. So I wrote some Anxceit-centred angst to cope. Consider yourself warned, this will hurt. I do hope you'll enjoy it regardless, though.

Trigger warnings: implied depression, mentions of panic attacks, self harm, fainting, memory loss

If I forgot a trigger or there is something you would like to be added to that list, please go ahead and tell me. You can do so anonymously as well.

It wasn't that bad at the beginning. A bit of a cold shiver, running down his spine. Ice that seemed to settle in his lounges. A dull ache. Nothing serious, really. He knew that it wasn't good to ignore it, he knew that from the start. And yet he couldn't help it.

They were happy. That was all that mattered to him then. Remus and Janus were happy. That was more important than a bit uncomfortableness. He was used to having panic attacks, mental breakdowns and the sudden urge to cry anyways. This didn't make such a big difference.

Except that it did.

You see, Remus was born without a soulmate. He just didn't have one. Janus, on the other hand, had an accident when he was younger. There was a nasty scar on the left side of his face, which he had covered up with a tattoo of a snake later. Ever since that accident, he'd been soul-blind. Colourblind for soulmates. He did have a soulmate, he just couldn't feel the bond anymore. Oh, it was still there, alright. He could feel that much. But he just couldn't tell anything beyond that. So he'd given up on finding that soulmate.

That's how Remus and Janus had gotten together in the first place. And that was wonderful. It was great. They made such a nice pair. They were happy and in love and sweet and… And it had come as a blow to the face to Virgil.

The three of them had been friends for years. When they'd become teens, Virgil had finally realised what the bond had been telling him all the time. The pretty sparkles around Janus, the glitter in the air that portrayed his emotion in colours, the warmth around his heart that reminded him of Janus. Janus could only feel that warmth. He wondered what it felt like to him. What he felt like to him. Because Janus was Virgil's soulmate.

Virgil had been a bit happy and a bit sad about that. Happy because he liked Janus and he knew him and that was fine. Sad because Janus couldn't tell that they were soulmates.

And that was why he kept telling himself that he'd tell Janus. For sure. But somehow he always ducked out the last moment. Something always happened. Just little things, but things that were bad enough to make him retreat into his shell.

He should have known. When Janus said he would give up on searching for a soulmate he couldn't even tell apart from the rest of the world, he should have known. And yet he hadn't expected Janus to start dating people. Janus was his soulmate, his. He didn't even consider the possibility that he might see other people. How very stupid of him.

He had almost told Janus that day. They were eighteen then, and he had bought a yellow nasturtium, Janus's favorite flower. It was inside a black pot that he'd made himself. He'd always liked to do pottery, it calmed him down. This was the best one he made so far, he thought.

He also wrote down what he wanted to say. How much Janus meant to him, how badly he wanted to be with him, that they were soulmates, that he didn't even mind that Janus couldn't tell and that he was sorry he hadn't said anything before. That it was okay if Janus needed time because this was so sudden, but that he hoped he'd give Virgil a chance anyways. Virgil had used his favorite paper. It was a bit fancy, but not over the top. And it smelled like Lavender, which always calmed him down. He'd wasted quite a bit of this paper because he kept starting over, but that was worth it. Janus was worth it.

But Janus had already told him that he wasn't waiting for his soulmate anymore. And when Janus arrived at his apartment that day, it was with his hand in Remus's.

"He asked me out earlier. I can't believe I said yes, the way he did it was terrible, really." But Janus had smiled, and Remus had laughed, and Virgil had been late.

He knew Remus wasn't to blame, and neither was Janus. They were happy right now. Remus hadn't been happy or confident when it came to the topic of love in forever. Janus had suffered because he'd always been so, so scared of his soulmate rejecting him for not being able to tell. And now they were happy and it was without him.

It hurt. A lot. But he didn't want to ruin their happiness. It was only his fault. He was to blame, for hesitating. For not wanting to ruin their friendship. For being selfish.

So he secretly took the letter and hid it in the bottom of his desk drawer. And he wished them the best.

After that, they started to drift away. Remus and Janus had a lot of date nights. And Virgil drifted away from them because he couldn't stand seeing them. It hurt too much, was all. Whenever Janus would smile at him, whenever Janus laughed, whenever Remus sighed and told him about a cute thing Janus had done, whenever they shared a milkshake, whenever they were so there, so with each other.

Whenever Janus insisted Virgil come as well, saying he missed him. Because Virgil knew, he knew that was because Janus could still feel the soulmate bond. But Janus didn't know, and Janus didn't see him that way, and that was just cruel. Why did fate do this to him? Why did it hate him so much?

After a while, when Virgil couldn't take it anymore, he begun to initiate fights. Janus was too much of a liar, he was too anxious to trust him. Remus was creepy and gross, he couldn't understand why he would say something like that. In the end, he became more and more of an asshole to the two of them. Their days were either spent apart or fighting, and Virgil would cry himself to sleep, pain and cold emptiness gnawing away at his soul.

After a while, he had pushed them so far away that he barely saw them at all anymore. And by then he was so used to it that he could just pretend everything was fine during the day. Sure, he couldn't bare to take off his hoody even in scalding hot summer. Sure, his panic attacks got worse and more frequent. Sure, he had started to wear black eyeshadow purely to hide the bags under his eyes. Sure, he woke up to dried tears on his face every single day. But it was fine. He was fine. He could take this, if it meant that the two most important people in his life were happy.

Patton, the soulmate of Remus's brother, had somehow ended up noticing how he was alone all the time now. And he'd adopted him into their friend group.

Roman and Remus were on bad terms with each other, so he barely knew them. It was kind of a fresh start, even if it was a rocky one. Remy and Roman were the least accepting of him. Roman because "A, he is the type of person Remus would hang out with. And, B, he hurt Remus with his sudden bullshit. Believe me, if you knew the things I learned through my brother…" and Remy just because he didn't want to breath the same air as him. Apparently.

Remy didn't hang out with the group if Virgil was with them. They meet up without him, which was a solution everyone was fine with. Besides, Remy had always liked to suddenly disappear and appear according to his mood. At least that was what his soulmate, Logan, said.

Roman, on the other hand, couldn't stay away that much. After all it was Patton who stuck to Virgil like friendly glue made out of puns, and Patton was Roman's soulmate. Both of them were extremely clingy too, apparently. So the two of them exchanged sarcastic comments and rude nicknames, but they didn't outright hate each other. At least Virgil didn't hate Roman.

Logan was nice to talk to. Almost as good at debates as Janus. They didn't have debates about philosophy, though. Those were reserved for Janus, and it felt like betraying him to have such a debate with someone else. They soon got to a point where hanging out was almost enjoyable, where they kind of liked each other.

And then, suddenly, it got a lot worse. A lot worse. So bad, Virgil couldn't get up in the morning. He couldn't eat anything, couldn't stop crying, could barely breath. About four panic attacks and one night of terrible, terrible loneliness later, Roman, Logan and Patton showed up at his door.

He couldn't help himself. He was so lonely, and he felt so worthless, and Patton was the only one who really wanted him around anyways. So he shrugged their concerns off, taking a sip from his hot coffee - the only acceptable hot beverage in August - and saying: "Well, I just… assumed you didn't want me around. I mean, you don't like me much anyways, so."

Patton had gasped in offence and horror, and Virgil couldn't help but smile at that, though the hole in his chest was still too much to bare and he couldn't look at them. "Yeah, yeah. Except you, Pat."

He'd been wrong. Logan drew up an entire chart to prove how much he contributed to their friend group and how much he provided. Even Roman told him that he was wanted, needed even. It was nice and wholesome, and to his surprise, it made him feel so much better. For just a moment, the hole inside his chest wasn't as icy and cold.

They ended up watching Disney that evening, with a bowl of popcorn and too much comments to actually concentrate on the movie. Later at night, Virgil even confessed that he knew his soulmate. A sore subject he didn't want to touch normally. They asked him why he was single, of course, whether it didn't work out between the two of them, whether that was even possible. And Virgil had shrugged. "I wouldn't know. We never tried, he already has someone." Then he'd chuckled. "I guess that was why I was such an asshole to Re and Jan when they got together, too. Kinda made me feel jealous and… lonely. Don't tell them, though. They don't even know that I already met my soulmate."

Janus would have been proud of him, for how well he had managed to lie to his new friends. Well, not lie directly. But a lie of omission, right?

There were many days like this after that. Days where everything got too much. His new friends understood that he sometimes had bad days. Patton would sent him videos of cute dogs and cats when he let them know he was out of order for that day. Roman would send him memes and Logan would tell him fun facts. It was precious of them, and it made Virgil feel a lot less lonely. The cold was still there, layered around the soulmate bond, the hole was just as gaping as always, but he didn't feel as lonely. And that was good enough.

Other days he could almost pretend that things were fine. He would be around his new friends for as long as his little, introverted heart allowed him. Then he'd listen to music, get stuff done, worry about dead lines and the world instead of Remus, or Janus and his absence in Virgil's life. Sometimes he would read, too. Or do pottery. He didn't do pots anymore though. Or flowers. Just art or tableware.

He didn't even mean to do it the first time. Really, it was an accident. He was just tired, and he did the dishes and then he accidentally cut himself with a knife. But as the blood trickled down his finger, the pain outside kind of overwhelmed the pain inside. So he sat down and watched his finger bleed. Because his hand was wet, it looked like more blood than it actually was.

He thought about that moment often after that, whenever the pain got too much to bare and he could barely hang on. And he did try to fight it, really, he did. But in the end, it was too tempting. Just a few cuts at a time, at first. Somewhere where no one would notice. With the hoody, that wasn't even that hard, actually. He always put on gauze, too, to make sure it didn't get infected.

It got a bit more when he heard from Roman that Janus and Remus had broken up. Apparently Janus felt weird dating Remus. They suspected that it was because Remus wasn't his soulmate - because Janus was Virgil's, his, he was supposed to date him and he wanted to yell it at Janus already, telling him the truth, finally holding him and kissing him and filling this Janus's formed hole in his heart - and Remus fully understood it. Things were a bit awkward between the two of them, but they would keep being friends.

And it got even more worse when Patton was Patton and decided to use this opportunity to get Virgil to make up with the two of them. It was nice of him, but the thing was that Janus was still Virgil's soulmate and didn't know about it.

He and Janus didn't get along too well. He made up with Remus way faster. And Roman didn't like Janus too much either, but once again Patton insisted on adopting the man into their friend group and Roman was too clingy to avoid him. But Janus made it, in the end. Of course Janus made it. He was dazzling and charismatic like that.

Only Virgil couldn't help keeping his defences up. If he let them down, he would tell him the truth. And he couldn't do that, not now, not until he made everything okay again. But he couldn't do that, not without letting his defences down and that just killed him on the inside.

And then he had a bad day. But he wanted to see Janus, so he got up and met up with the others. It helped. Seeing Janus there helped. Hearing him and Patton talking about Kant, watching him smile at Logan and joke around with both Remus and Roman… It helped. And yet it made him so much more aware of what he was missing.

Remus and Roman drove home together. Logan was supposed to meet Remy, so he had excused himself earlier. Patton worked in the café they'd been in, and his shift started after their meeting. So that left Virgil and Janus to walk out together.

Janus smelled like coconut, and his lips were a little chapped. Early winter, he always got chapped lips this time of year. The light made his skin glow, and from this angle with the way the light hit them his left eye looked a lot more golden than brown, unlike the right one.

It hurt. He wanted to grab Janus's hand, he wanted to kiss those lips, he wanted to hug him and never let him go, he wanted to grab him and hold him close until the smell of coconut would transfer to himself as well. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted so bad.

But how was he supposed to do any of it? How was he supposed to tell him?

In the end, he decided to just get it over with. Like a bandaid, just ripping it off. Straight out with it. But just when he was about to, had already taken a breath and opened his mouth…

"I missed you." Janus's melodic voice sounded way too sad. Virgil didn't like it. "Why did you just leave us behind, Virge? I missed you, but… You were acting so strange. You still are. Are you mad because I never texted you?"

He didn't say anything. Couldn't, even though he wanted to.

"If that's it, then I'm sorry. But, Virge, I… I did miss you. And you acting so cold to me really sucks. You're getting along fine with Remus now, so why not me?" He stopped and looked Virgil in the eyes, looking like he was searching for something. What, Virgil didn't know. But he didn't find it, judging by the way he averted his eyes. And that hurt, too. Everything hurt. He just wanted to go now. "I thought we were friends."

"No. I don't think we ever were supposed to be friends." Virgil took a deep breath. Now. He had to tell him now. Bandaid, remember? Just tell him. Virgil opened his mouth, looking at Janus.

Right. Just out with it. "The truth is we're soulmates. I'm sorry I never told you, I was scared. But I love you, Janus." Right. That was all he had to say. Just three sentences. Go on, do it. Please, just get them out already. It's been years now. You've known since you were sixteen, you've known for four years now. He deserves to know, too.

In the end, he shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I…" couldn't say it again. He ignored the tears gathering in his eyes as he turned away from Janus's hurt look. "I'm not feeling that good."

And he ran. He ran away, like he always did. God, he was such a coward. And for what?

At home, he pulled out the letter from last year. Then, he screamed. He couldn't take it anymore, he just screamed and sobbed. And he knew that it wasn't fair, that he'd done this to himself, but he was in so much pain. He just couldn't take it.

But he'd done this to himself. By hesitating, by not giving the letter, by ruining what little relationship he had with his soulmate, by pushing him away, by lying, by not saying what he wanted to. And what for? A fleeting happiness, a failed relationship, a churning ball of fear in his stomach?

Virgil didn't mean for it to get that bad. He meant to stop earlier. He didn't mean for the wounds to be that deep either. But they did, and he didn't, and he only really realised when he got dizzy at standing up. Oh. Oh, that was a lot of blood. And he was still bleeding. Damnit, he needed help. But who would…? Who could…

He grabbed his phone and called the first number in his contacts. It was Remus's voice that picked up after the second ring. "Hey, Rem. It's me." He winced at how weak his voice sounded. "I, uh… I did something stupid. And I know I've been an asshole, but I really, really need your help."

"Janus said you didn't feel so good." Remus sounded genuinely worried. And was that Janus's voice in the background? It was, wasn't it? Tears sprung to his eyes again.

"Yeah. Hey, tell him I'm sorry for me? I wanted to say something, but I didn't again, and… yeah." He couldn't understand the response he got. Blinking, he tried to stay awake. Falling asleep was bad, right? Oh, right. Remus. "Listen, Remus, I… Did something stupid. There's a lot of blood. I think I need to go to the hospital."

"Blood? The hospital? Virgil what did you do?!"

He flinched at the panicked voice. That didn't suit Remus at all. Wait, wasn't that Janus? Had Remus put him on speaker? Well, it didn't matter, really. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He said instead. And then: "I'm scared."

"Okay. Okay, shit. We're almost there. It's alright, we're almost- Take a left, Re, that's faster. We're almost there, okay Virge?"

"Okay." He hesitated, lump in his throat. He thought he could feel tears running down his face, but he was a bit too out of it to be sure. "Thank you."

They kept their word. He could hear Janus's shocked cry and Remus's cussing before the darkness took over.

❖

When he woke up, he was in a white room. Around him, he could see a bunch of people. One with dirty blonde hair and freckles, holding hands with a brunette with glasses. Next to them sat a man with similar glasses and black hair. On the other side was a man much like the first, but with one strand dyed silver and the rest chestnut brown. And another man, who stole the breath right out of his lunges.

Long, golden hair, tied up to a bun, pale skin, warm eyes somewhere between gold and brown, and a snake tattoo on his left cheek. He wore black, with yellow and gold accessories, and he was absolutely stunning. Around him there were weird fireworks, almost like glitter. Did the others see that, too? It was blue, and something inside him told him that that was worry. The same part clenched around his heart, demanding to make the worry go away.

But… "Who are you?"

They all gasped, looking at him. "Virgil?! Oh my god, you're awake." That was the voice of the man with the dyed hair. What was his name? He couldn't quite remember.

"I don't… Who are you? Where am I? Do I know you? I think I know you, but…" He trailed off, regretting having said anything when hurt crossed the stunning man's face. "Sorry."

"Oh, no, you don't… I'm sorry. I should've noticed you were hurting." He sighed, putting on an obviously fake smile as he grabbed his - Virgil's? His name was Virgil, had the man said, right? - hand. "We are your friends, Virgil. That's Logan, Patton, Roman, and Remus. And I am Janus." Janus. Yeah, Virgil though, that fit him. But somehow, Janus looked like he was steeling himself for something. He took a deep breath, smiling more, tears in those wonderful eyes. "I'm you soulmate."

"My soulmate?"

Janus nodded, clutching a purple piece of paper in his hand. "Yes. It's a bit complicated, but, I am. We're soulmates."

Virgil nodded, looking around. There were a lot of people around him. And they all looked so happy to see him awake. His friends and his soulmate, huh? Virgil looked back to Janus. "There's a lot of people here."

"Do you want us to go, kiddo?" That was Patton who'd said that, right? He sounded sad at the idea, and Virgil didn't like it much either. So he shook his head.

"No. I was just thinking, there's a lot of people caring about me."

He got a few sad smiles in return. "Of course, Virge. We all love you very much. And don't you dare to forget that again, you hear?" Janus clenched Virgil's hand in his and put it to his forehead, almost desperately. "Don't you ever dare forget that I love you. You idiot."

General taglist🖤: @gattonero17 @alias290

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

hello my favorite writer it is me again i was wondering if i could have another will imagine (gn as usual) and could it be about a reader who feels insecure about being wills partner because they’re still working on being famous and feel like they’re mooching off of wills fame and end up pushing him away slightly and it’s angsty, but ends in fluff with will finally telling them he loves them and reassuring kisses <3

Favorite writer?? You flatter me, darlin', but thank you!

Also, so sorry this took so long! I've been really unmotivated/lazy lately and I wanted to write this as perfect as I possibly could. Also also, ya know how the Powerpuff Girls were made? Sugar, spice, and everything nice but Chemical X was added accidently? Yeah, this is that, but replace Chemical X with a lot of angst. My bad.😬

WARNING: Depressing themes throughout

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't often you felt insecure, but you figured it was just one of those days.

You hadn't been in many blockbuster films or tv shows, you were still working hard on your career. You loved the indie projects you worked on, you loved any job where you could act. It was your passion, after all.

You couldn't help feel a little bit insecure when your partner, Will, was where you aspired to be your whole life. He was brilliant, working with amazing people like Tom Hardy and Leonardo DiCaprio. So early in his career too. You looked up to Will so much, praying that you'd be just as talented as him one day. But you knew it wouldn't be easy, acting isn't exactly the easier job in the world, you knew it would take a lucky break.

You always joked that maybe you should work as a waiter in some restaurant, knowing that Edward Norton got his first movie role while working in such a place, only to move on to work beside the amazing Richard Gear.

It was just one day you felt bad about your career, but then it started to snowball into anxiety and depression. It got to the point where it was all you could think about, especially when you were out with Will. And you could tell that he knew something was up, the thousand yard stare that you often had was something that couldn't really go unnoticed.

But for the most part, you acted like everything was fine.

You hated that you let your insecurity pile on and on like this, it normally was something you could handle. You don't know what came over you, but you found yourself scrolling for hours looking at comments on any of your posts. Most people were supportive of you and Will's relationship, and you were thankful for that. But of course, there are always a few bad apples.

The wonderful and lovely, supportive comments were many, outweighing the hate by miles. But just one negative comment could throw you off, ruining your day.

You wished you could just focus on the positive, but unfortunately, that's not how brains are designed. It always has to point out a flaw, find that one odd man out, find the error in the system. Usually, most of those errors can be fixed. You spent your entire life trying to get people to like you, being somewhat of a pushover and a people pleaser, disregarding your own self in favor of praise. So seeing people online hating you for no other reason besides being with Will, seeing that they might never change their minds, it was devastating.

You knew that the hate would usually come from obsessed fans who must've been jealous of you, and you could understand that and it was fine. You remembered the younger years of being jealous of a person who dated your crush, it was something that most people grow out of thankfully. You could get over those comments, saying you weren't good looking enough or not fit enough, any comments about your appearance. The ones that really got to you was the comments about your "horrible" personality.

It was odd, people saying awful things about you when they didn't even know you at all. Most of the contradictory was were amusing. There was a point in time after your relationship with Will was made public, where you'd feel to nervous about going to red carpet events with him. The comments would say, "Y/n's not there with Will? What an unsupportive partner they must be!" or anything similar. But when you started to go with him sometimes, the comments would shift dramatically.

"Y/n's a gold digger."

"They're just using Will for his fame."

"He deserves better than that snake."

It hurt, more than you'd admit. You told Will it didn't bother you that much, just wrote it off that it's normal. Then, you never talked about it again.

You felt awful, every single day. Thoughts of self doubt clouding your brain constantly, thinking, "Am I really deserving of such a kind person like Will?" No matter how you looked at it, the answer was always no.

You started to feel like you shouldn't even be with Will anymore. There was most likely someone else out there, an actor with more talent and more self-sufficient than you were.

You and Will had been together for a couple years, you loved him so much, but when he asked you to move in with him, you said you weren't ready. The biggest lie you ever told, and you instantly regretted it when you saw the disappointed look on his face. But being the gentleman that he is, he said it was completely okay and that there was no pressure.

You absolutely didn't deserve him.

Every time Will asked you to go out with him, you always came up with an excuse to stay home. You felt too anxious about being out in public, the thought of a fan seeing you with Will brought you to the verge of a panic attack. You became distant, trying to distract yourself by throwing yourself into your work. You rarely saw Will anymore, and you knew if you kept up with how you were acting on your insecurity, you'd lose him. But you couldn't bring yourself to try and talk to him about it, you felt too embarrassed.

From Will's point of view, he thought you were becoming distant because of him. He wracked his mind trying to think what was it that he did to make you spend less time with him? At first, he thought, maybe you just needed some space. There were times where he needed to be alone, just like everyone does. But it felt like it was going on for too long. Every time he wanted to take you out somewhere nice, you'd politely decline and you'd opted for a night in.

There came a point where enough was enough, Will was determined to find out what was going on with you.

You stared at your cellphone, the screen lighting up with a picture of Will along with your set ringtone. You sighed, you really didn't feel like answering. You knew you should, but you couldn't bring yourself to. A feeling of dread washed over you, you didn't want him to think you hated him, yet you still couldn't. You rang your fingers through your hair, anxiously scratching your scalp harshly.

Your screen darkened, following with a notification, voicemail and text. "Y/n, what's going on? I've been trying...", you couldn't listen anymore.

"I'm sorry, Will..." You whispered to yourself, wrapping yourself up tightly in a blanket.

You almost screamed when you heard a rapid knock on your door, quickly tensing up when you heard Will call out from outside. "Y/n?"

You wanted to fucking scream.

"I know you're in there, just, please, talk to me."

The desperation in his voice forced you to get up from your couch, tossing away your cozy blanket with a huff. You shakily reached out and opened the door, Will's concerned face filling your view. "...hi."

Will chuckled bitterly. "Hi? That's it? You haven't talked to me in days. What's going on, love?"

"Nothing!" You explained, plastering on a fake smile with a chuckle.

Will smiled sadly. "You're lying." He said simply, pushing his way past you into your home.

"Will, please, I'm not up to talking right now."

"You know, I want to respect your wishes, I really do. But I feel that I've been patient. I've been trying to support you in any way that I can, but I can't help if I don't know what's going on." He sat down on your couch, pleading for you to sit next to him with his eyes. "We used to be open and honest with each other about everything. Tell me what's going on so I can help you."

You huffed, running your hands over your face. "It's not that simple..."

Will casted his gaze to your wooden floor, squeezing his hands together and taking a deep shaky breath. "Is it...is it because it's something I did?"

"What?"

"You're shutting me out. It's because of me, isn't it? I did something-"

"No." You quickly exclaimed, rushing over to his side when you heard his voice waver, taking ahold of one of his hands. "No, it's not you, I promise."

"Then...why? Why are you pushing me away?" Will sighed, biting his lip to keep himself from crying. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"I love you, Will, more than I can express." You chuckled bitterly. "It's hard to talk about."

Will brought a hand up to your face, gently brushing a freshly fallen tear off your face. "You can tell me anything, Y/n, anything."

You smiled weakly, bringing his hand you were holding up to your lips and kissed his knuckles softly. "Okay..." You took a deep breath.

"Take your time, love."

"Being with you, brings me so much happiness that it feels like I'm dreaming. You're so...amazing, and honestly the best and most kind person I've ever met. And I? I feel like I'm nobody."

"Y/n..."

"Compared to others, I'm no one. Just another person trying to live out their dreams that are so far fetched that it doesn't even seem possible to even come close to achieving them. You're so self assured that acting is what you were born to do and you're so talented. I envy you, and I feel so guilty feeling that way. Sometimes I feel like I wasn't meant to be an actor. I feel like...I'm trying to run towards my goal, but every time I make progress, the goal moves farther and farther away until I can't even see it anymore."

"Y/n," Will started softly, "I know how you feel. I've felt that way about my career too. I always wondered if there was going to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Yes, you can work as hard as you humanly can, but it also takes luck. You just have to be at the right place at the right time sometimes. That's why they call it a lucky break, ya know." He smiled, making you giggle tearfully.

"I know, but that's not all." You frowned. "I know you said, it's just better to ignore what the internet has to say, but...I was looking some of our comments a few months ago. And...I just went down a fuckin' rabbit hole. I know I always say that hate comments don't bother me, but...they do. They really do, and I let them get to me. I'm sorry."

"No, darling, I'm sorry. I didn't see what was really going on when I should've."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Will. I thought I was stronger than this."

Will quickly brought you close to his chest, wrapping around your torso with one arm, the other gently cupping your jaw. "Hey, you are the strongest person I know, okay? Don't think you're weak just because you're feeling something that every human on planet earth feels. Whatever those comments said, there's no one I'd rather be with than you." He leaned forward and kissed you gently, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I felt so embarrassed, Will. I wished I had talked to you sooner."

"It doesn't matter now. You opened up and I'm proud of you for that. I love you so much. And I promise to try my very hardest to never let you feel that way again."

~~~~~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed, @fcvcritecrime ! 🖤

[freddyfreebat]

Jack Dylan Grazer Discovers Who He Is in Luca Guadagnino's “We Are Who We Are”

After supporting roles in the It and Shazam!, the young actor shifts gears with his turn as a capricious army brat in the Call Me By Your Name director's new HBO series.

by Iana Murray / Photography by Nik Antonio  —  September 14, 2020

A few years ago, Jack Dylan Grazer took a trip to the movie theater. He was in Toronto and it was one of his days off from filming Shazam!, the DC comedy in which he plays the shape-shifting hero’s foster brother. He decided to watch Call Me By Your Name, and he immediately fell for it. Grazer took note of the director’s name that appeared in the credits—Luca Guadagnino—and turned to his mother.

“I want to work with him,” he told her. With eerie prescience, she assured him: “You will.”

Whether Grazer, now 17, has a knack for manifestation, or it was all just happenstance, his wish came true in the form of We Are Who We Are, Guadagnino’s coming of age drama which follows a group of army brats living on an American military base in Italy. Thematically, the show is something of a spiritual successor to Call Me By Your Name: Grazer plays Fraser, a tempestuous 14-year-old with a pair of headphones constantly plugged in his ears. He’s the new arrival at the base with his mothers (Chloë Sevigny and Alice Braga), and quickly forms a deep bond with his neighbour, Caitlin (Jordan Kristine Seamon), as they both wrestle with their sexuality and identity in the midst of domestic troubles and teenage debauchery.

“He’s an enigma to himself,” Grazer says of his character. “He doesn’t really understand a lot of the things he does but he’s so forthright so he convinces himself that he knows everything. He feels like other people don’t deserve his intelligence. But he’s also very volatile and aggressive at times, and not because he’s coming from an angry place but because he’s constantly questioning who he is.”

If Fraser is just beginning his coming of age when we first meet him, Grazer is inching closer to the end. Starring in enormous blockbusters including IT, he became the Loser Club’s resident hypochondriac at age 12 and a superhero’s sidekick by 15. His films have grossed a combined total of over $1.5 billion. Suddenly the stakes are multiplied tenfold during what are ostensibly, and horrifyingly, the most awkward years of your life. Every misstep is now being monitored, examined through a microscope of millions. (See: His 3.8 million fans on Instagram, to say nothing of the countless stan accounts.) Child fame is a disarming transaction like that: a stable career and all the other perks of being a celebrity, but at the cost of normalcy. That unalleviating pressure forces a kid to mature fast.

Grazer is acutely aware of this fact, admitting outright that he’s “not a normal person.” But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I became 70 when I was 7!” he laughs. “I don’t know if I really had much of a childhood. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to grow up really fast.”

Nevertheless, he’s still 17. When we meet over Zoom, his shoulder length curls are damp and disheveled (he just got out of the shower), his black painted fingernails contrast with his brightly-lit, white bedroom as he rests his face on his hand. It’s a Saturday morning and he looks tired: It’s his first week back at school, which has traded classrooms for hours of video calls reminiscent of the one we’re currently on. “It feels like the days are shorter because the teachers don’t want to torture their students by keeping them on a computer for six hours a day,” he tells me. “You do miss the social aspect of being at school.”

If you were to judge Grazer by what’s out there on the internet, you’d expect an anarchic and relentless bundle of energy. A quick YouTube search brings up results like “jack dylan grazer being a drama queen” and “jack dylan grazer being chaotic in interviews for 4 and a half minutes straight.” He trolled a YouTube gamer on Instagram Live. His TikToks are inscrutable.

But here, he’s incredibly earnest, as he excitedly talks about his skateboarding hobby (a skill he picked up after auditioning for Mid90s) and his attempts to learn the flute (“I need to learn how to read sheet music, but it’s like reading Hebrew!”). He’s calm and thoughtful, as if this project we’re discussing requires a shift in sensibility.

For Grazer, acting had always simply been fun. While other kids might take up a sport or get hooked on video games, he performed in musical theater with the Adderley School because he “just wanted to play.” His roles so far have been reflective of his carefree approach to the job: Up until now, he’s portrayed best friends with biting one-liners, or the younger version of the protagonist in a flashback. IT is a prime example of both. In the horror franchise, Grazer plays a neurotic germaphobe running from a fear-eating clown, but in reality, the film felt like “summer camp.” Both films never felt like work; he just learned his lines and got to hang out on extravagant sets with his best friends. Likewise, school amounted to being pulled off set by a teacher in between takes to cram in the mandatory hours.

But with We Are Who We Are, he steps into his first leading role, one that required him to convey longing and confusion through Elio-like physicality and subtext. It’s abnormal to talk about the show as a turning point for an actor who isn’t even a legal adult yet, but Grazer explains that the show required him to radically change his approach to acting. He spent six months in Italy (“It felt like I was in Call Me By Your Name.”) and built up the character beyond what was on the page in collaboration with Guadagnino. “His philosophy is that we know our characters better than anyone else—even the writers—because we are the characters essentially,” he explains.

In many ways, Grazer absorbed that philosophy entirely. He describes the experience less as a performance and more like a “rebirth”—perhaps even an attempt at method acting. Over those months in Italy, the distinctions between actor and character gradually became indistinguishable. “I had no other choice but to act and surrender to Fraser entirely and throw Jack Dylan Grazer out the window,” he says. “I would go out and get a coffee as Fraser and walk like Fraser. That was just me trying to get into [character], but then I slipped at some point and just became Fraser.”

One day on set, he looked at himself in the mirror, and the hardened kid standing there with a bleach-blond dye job and oversized shorts was unrecognizable to him. He could only see Fraser. While talking about his character, he seems to unintentionally switch pronouns, from “he” to “I”, as if the two still remain one and the same.

The process was so transformative that it forced him to re-evaluate himself entirely. “I never really struggled with identity before,” Grazer tells me. “But I think the show opened up my eyes to question myself. Being Fraser forced me to question what I wanted and what I stood for and what I believed in. At some points, the show bled into reality.”

When asked how he has changed, he takes a pause and a pensive swivel in his armchair, unsure of how to answer. “I think I was more ignorant before I did the show,” he says, and he leaves it at that.

Coming of agers are a particularly well-trodden genre, but there’s a naturalistic, raw energy to We Are Who We Are that is distinctive from what we’ve seen before. Each character quietly struggles with their own problems and growing pains—for Fraser, it’s his sexuality. Caught in a fraught relationship with his lesbian mother and an infatuation with another man, his story doesn’t tick off the familiar beats. His personal discovery is instead internal and intimate. "I think every single person born as a boy has this guard. It’s this guard that they don’t even realize they have, where they’re initially like, ‘Being gay? I could never.’ But we’re all born as humans who are attracted to whatever we’re attracted to," he says. "I think that’s how Fraser interprets it as well. Yes, he’s reserved and nervous about it in the beginning because he’s unlocking this new idea for himself. He’s figuring it out, and that’s what you see in the show: him coming to terms with this idea."

As our conversation winds to a close, I ask him if Martin Scorsese ever visited the set—his daughter, Francesca, plays the confident cool girl of the show’s teen cohort—and his eyes widen. “That was actually a really stressful day,” he divulges. Still, he revels in the memory, speaking so fast it’s like someone has put him on 2.5x speed as he shows off his impersonation of Guadagnino. The director was so nervous about Scorsese’s presence that production halted that day.

“Luca was like, ‘I cannot do this today because Martin Scorsese is on my set. I don’t know what to do, this is not good for me. I will have a panic attack before the day ends,’” Grazer says in his best Italian accent. “It’s like if you’re a painter and Van Gogh shows up.” 

Admittedly, Grazer is also a self-proclaimed superfan of the Wolf of Wall Street director, and afterwards, he got to spend several days with his idol, as they went on lavish restaurant outings in Italy and talked about anything and everything.

He takes a second to compose himself. A giddy, Cheshire cat smile spreads across his face. The kid in him comes flooding back.

“...Oh my god!” he yells. “I met Martin Scorsese!”

[ithehellisbucky]

For You

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: “I love you isn’t always enough.”

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst to end all angst. PTSD, depression, spiraling, fighting, break up, sad shit.

Author’s Note: I meant for this to be out on Sunday because I wrote it last Monday but I forgot. Anyways this is really sad, but I'm proud of myself because I wrote the ~spoiler alert~ "breaking up to protect the reader" but its the reader doing to breaking up.

~

When it takes a century to find happiness, you thought it would stick.

From the moment that Bucky walked into your life (literally, walked into your bookshop) you knew that you wouldn't leave him behind any time soon.

There was something about him that would float around in your heart forever until you saw him again, and then the process would repeat.

The first 6 months of your relationship was a honeymoon phase. Waking up to him staring at you in adoration every morning. He stayed at your apartment every day. Cuddling in the middle of the night when he had nightmares, holding him when he was scared to touch anything.

Showing him your love in any and every way you could. Making misshapen pancakes together, and him showing you his favorite movies and books from the 30s and 40s. Pure happiness.

But there was something about Bucky that couldn't sit still. He can't live your little happy life knowing that there is someone out there.

It had caused many fights, you never wanted him to go back to crime-fighting, and he wanted to prove himself. And as much as you tried to tell him that he was already a hero, he was persistent that he had to make up for things that the man that used to live in his brain did.

It drove you crazy.

You were laying on the couch reading a book and absent-mindedly watching a mediocre television show you've seen twice before. You hear each of your locks click twice and from the weight of his footsteps and settle back down into comfort.

"Hi, baby." Bucky walks over to you and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

"Hi honey, how was therapy." You ask as he snuggles into your embrace and you put your book down.

"Boring," he exclaims as you stroke his hair.

"Boring is better than bad, I'm proud of you," He smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

Instead of saying the 'I love you' that you wanted to say, you replaced it with: 'I'm proud of you', 'Stay safe', and 'honey' 'baby' 'sweetheart'.

It wasn't what you wanted, but it'd have to do until your love was ready to hear it.

"I'm making pasta, when do you wanna eat?" You exclaim, wrapping your legs around his torso, and realizing that you are fully entangled in a cuddlefest.

"Maybe an hour, I'm never hungry after Dr. Raynor."

You nod and can tell he understood your response.

You hold each other in blissful peace, eat your food, and go to bed. Bucky does things a certain way to sleep. He wraps his body around yours and sleeps closer to the door, so if someone tried to attack he could protect you in an instant. When he can't sleep he goes into the living room and lays down on the floor to watch tv. He's never slept comfortably before, so it's hard to sleep in safety.

Apparently, tonight was one of those nights. You woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed.

You reach over and notice that the bedsheets are sweaty and his shirt is on the ground near the door. Bucky was fine with his arm around you, it took some time to show him that he's worthy of love- prosthetic included.

You walk towards the door wearing only one of Bucky's shirts and underwear with little flowers all over it.

"Hey Bucky, are you okay..." Your voice trails off when you notice Bucky staring at the tv with hollow eyes and an unrelenting gaze. "Baby what's wrong?" You slowly walk closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder, even though all you want to do is run to him and hold him.

At first, you think that he doesn't notice until he turns around and shows tear-brimmed eyes. "He gave away the shield."

He can't seem to say anything other than that, so you reach over and hold his face to your neck. You help him get up and walk over to your room and your bed, not bother to pick up his bedding or turn off the tv. You lay gently down in bed, and hold him close to you and let him sob into your chest.

The next day Bucky's acting odd, to say the least. But you don't push it, he's been through enough in the past 24 hours. Finding out that the pretty much only constant in your life was in the hands of a stranger isn't something you can take lightly.

He left in the morning and he didn't come back until late at night. When you ask him where he was he shrugged and ate a single-serving pizza in a record three minutes then went straight to bed, leaving you eating leftovers by yourself in the dark. Not exactly the perfect day.

The same happens for the next 2 days, and then the next day he doesn't come home, and all you get is a text that he'll be home back Sunday. That leaves you with paralyzing fear for the days he's gone, and when he comes back to you at 3:30 in the morning he has a black eye and knuckle-shaped bruises all over the parts of his body you can see, which is no small feat considering the super-soldier serum pumping through his veins.

"Where the hell have you been Bucky?" You yell once he's sat down on the couch like nothing ever happened.

"I was doing stuff." He shrugs and clicks on the tv.

You snatch the remote off the table and turn it off. "You can't just disappear for days and act like nothing ever happened!"

He rolls his eyes and gets up, beginning to walk towards the bathroom "Don't walk away from me! You don't get to walk away from this!"

He turns around and glares at you with the gaze that you've seen him use plenty of time at guys who were checking out your ass at bars.

"Why the hell can't I?" He spits out and towers over you.

"Because this is a relationship and you can't walk away whenever you want to and expect everything to be fine!" His anger doesn't intimidate you. "What the fuck did you expect me to do? Bake you cookies and shampoo your hair when you got home?

I'm not your bitch and you're not a liar, so tell me what's going on." You exclaim, hoping that he'll tell you something other than what you know is really going on.

"I was out with Sam."

"Oh my god," you sigh, turning away from him.

"There's this group called the flag smashers, and they're trying to cause a revolution or something," you run your hand through your hair, "and the new Captain America was there, and he's not a good guy, so me and Sam were-"

"No. No Bucky no." He seems slightly taken aback, but what honestly was he thought was going to happen.

"I don't care if you run around beating up bank robbers or making amends for things you didn't do, I do care that you lied to me about something that could've killed you."

"I know it's just-" He says, scratching his head with his metal arm.

"It's just what? That you want to help people? There are plenty of things you can do to help people other than getting beaten up Bucky!"

You take a deep breath and think it through more, "you know what, I'm blowing it out of proportion, you were just trying to help Sam and you were scared, let's just talk to Dr. Raynor and figure something out tomorrow."

You turn to go to bed and notice that Bucky isn't following "what's wrong?"

Bucky takes a deep breath "I'm not seeing Dr. Raynor anymore."

You turn around, angrier at him than you've ever been, "what?"

"John, the new Captain America, wants me to be focused on the mission, and therapy is just a distraction."

You can practically feel anger boiling through your veins. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound crazy. I would be fine if you went on missions or teamed up with Sam, but you can't stop going to therapy Bucky."

"Yes I can; the whole point is that I can make my own decisions. It's my choice." Bucky exclaims, yelling at you louder than you thought he ever would.

"Okay. If you think that making decisions is about ruining your life because you can, go ahead." You look him straight in the eyes, all fear gone. "you can quit therapy and implode all the progress you've made" you take a deep breath "and get out of my house."

Bucky drops all of his anger and steps back in shock and fear. "What?"

"I'm not going to let you ruin your life Bucky. When I met you, you wouldn't even let me see your arm. I've realized, that you are dependent on me, and that's not okay Bucky, because you deserve better than only having one good thing."

You were holding back tears, but in this moment you needed to help Bucky, and the only way to do that was to make sure he would be okay. And he can't do that if you are the only thing in his life. "You had nothing for 70 years Bucky, and now that you have the whole world you can't keep holding on to one person. You lost Steve, and then you were desperate to find something else to hold onto. You need to find yourself Bucky."

"No, no please don't do this. I- I love you." He starts crying and it takes everything in you not to run to him and hold him.

"Love isn't always enough Bucky." You turn around to leave your apartment in the middle of the night, "I love you more than anything, but I can't let you ruin your life. Go back to therapy, Buck, I'll be here. I'll wait. Go live the life you finally have Bucky. I love you."

You walk out your door and the second you close it you start sobbing. You wander out into the street and wonder if you did the right thing.

You hoped and you begged and you pleaded that Bucky would discover the world that he deserved. You wouldn't abandon him, you would make sure he stayed alive, he just needed time to be free. This wasn't for you, you reminded yourself, it's for Bucky.

Always for Bucky.

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