#laptop monitor extender

[tripeportablemonitor]

Trio3Tech redefines your workspace with cutting-edge triple portable laptop monitors. Elevate your productivity by seamlessly connecting for a versatile tri-screen setup. Unlock endless possibilities and upgrade your tech experience with Tri3Tech's innovative solutions. Experience the future of work and play with our sleek, modern design. Transform your computing space into a dynamic hub for creativity and efficiency. Trio3Tech: Where innovation meets style, creating a new era in tech sophistication!

[creepyscritches]

trying to understand tech terms while purchasing a monitor feels like being a tourist poorly translating from a hand dictionary trying to ask where the bathroom is

[phoenixtakaramono]

Sugar Baby AU Threadfic - Part I

(You can read it here!)

Out of Context Previews for this Update:

Also as an FYI:

[blughxreader]

I've been watching natural disaster documentaries and I'm so down bad for the idea of Platonic Yandere! Batfam during a blizzard.

They obviously have enough supplies to maintain a small village, so no one is pressed when sudden snow picks up. Batman has special cold-resistant suits for all of them but when the windchill drops to the negatives, their patrols are an hour at a time.

When the blizzard finally hits, they escort stranded cars to safety for as long as possible before the white-out makes it impossible to work.

That first night, they're all huddled in the the smallest lounge, fireplace roaring and hot chocolate in hand. You're pulled to the very front of the pile, bundled in blankets and Tim's various school hoodies and up against the rolling heat of the flames.

Despite the temperature breaking record lows, you've never been more toasty. Chocolate on your tongue and cheeks hot from the fire, they only let you unbundle yourself when you complain about sweating.

However much the others bitch and moan, Jason and Bruce are the ones at your side. They're packed full of muscle and do a great job of trapping in heat, so the skinnier Bats have to settle for watching you. Jason and Bruce take great pleasure in draping a big arm around you, pinning you so close to their sides that you have to fold your arms to keep them from getting squeezed.

Bruce insists you sleep in his bed, since this is one of the few times he gets to fall asleep at the same time as you. Damian insists, on account of being the least efficient at maintaining heat (i.e. the smallest), he should join you two. Bruce relents with an amused smile. You fall asleep pulled almost fully across Bruce's chest with Damian wound tightly around you.

The whole situation would almost be reminiscent of a family enjoying the winter holidays, had it not been for the Bat’s palpable longing.

Normally, they're desperate to touch you, to hold onto some part of your person and bask in the closeness. But with their fingertips cold and a slight shake to their limbs—they're ravenous.

Their yearning mixes with the cold and spurs on their dark thoughts more than the heat ever has. They have to hold you or they'll die. They have to feel your warm breath fan their faces. They have to take your body heat and to give you theirs.

Physical intimacy seems so much more personal when they could die from the cold (never mind the fact that they're at a healthy temperature).

Fights break out faster as they get more clingy, and Bruce creates a rigid schedule. The Bats must follow the rotation by the second, no bartering time for favors, and no incapacitating others to extend your time.

The weak sun travels the sky and snow swallows houses whole. Almost two days in, the power cut and everyone was forced to move into the small living room. Using the back-up generators, they powered only a few important rooms in the house and set up space heaters in every corner. Blankets were nailed over windows and Damian and Tim had a mini bitch-session over the unusable internet connection.

Dick and Jason carried down mattresses, while Tim, Cass, and Steph found every blanket and pillow in the house. Damian and Bruce brought up laptops, monitors, and a radio for work. Alfred is forced into the recliner with an instant water heater and a teapot by his side. He hasn't complained once, but everyone knows the cold isn't kind to his joints.

Then there's you, sitting on a pile of blankets and pillows and wrapped in sweaters, throws, hats, and gloves. You almost threw a fit because you were warm enough, but Cass's darkened face silenced you immediately. She backed off when you settled into Steph's side, gloves and all.

The time passes slowly. On the third and worst day, the wind chill reached negative 50. The house rattled and creaked against the cold, and the Bats took turns nestled against you.

Dick flipped through his old high school year book and told you stories about the students, while Steph chimed in with made up-ones to add drama.

You and Damian played a game that involved finishing each other's drawings.

Tim pretended to be stuck on a video game level and let you help. Cass somehow procured a party horn that she honked to celebrate each victory.

Despite how hard Jason tried to avoid Bruce, they always finished their books at the same time and left to get more. They returned with arm-fulls of books and a frozen snack that they shared with you.

At the end of the week, when the sun finally began melting the snow and the were having an increasingly difficult time keeping Bruce from the cowl, they were all sick of each other.

It was slightly satisfying, considering you never caught a break from any of them and this was a taste of their own medicine. The Bats finally returned to duty after a spectacular meltdown from Dick after Bruce asserted his opinion one too many times.

You, however, remained locked in the living room nest for several more days because "it's still too cold for you to sleep alone" and "patrols will be very short until crime picks back up."

It was already safe to return to your room, but there was something so comforting about knowing precisely where you'd be at any given moment. And Bruce, settling into the couch after patrol to thaw his frozen limbs, melted at the sight of his kids all piled up together.

for more yandere batfam, visit my masterlist!

[kiwanopie]

Laptop

boyfriend!kiyoomi part IV!

“So… Where’d you two meet?”

Sakusa sighs.

This was exactly the scenario he was trying to avoid. Sitting on the bed adjacent to his longtime teammate and trying to avert his eyes from the way he kicks his feet from under him like an overgrown school boy. His gleeful - prying eyes sear holes in the side of his head from where he’s got his nose pointed at his laptop monitor, and if his hunch should tell him anything; it’s that little Mr. GossipGirl won’t rest until he’s juiced him of all the mushy details.

But the problems not that he doesn’t like talking about you. It’s the opposite actually, he could start and never finish, it’s just…

It’s embarrassing to get all sweet and blushy in front of this honey-eyed fool or any of his teammates. He hates the vulnerability of it all. Fending off a smile and trying to minimize all of these very big, very honest feelings he has about you. And ever since meeting you he’s been very slowly but surely pushing himself away from his previous dispositions.

Aloof old Omi, safely reclusive - inside his little shell, has peeked his head out and fallen in love with the sun.

This guy’s gonna eat that shit up.

Sakusa grazes his finger along the touch pad, tapping it a few times before grumbling curtly. “Can you go to bed already?”

“Not without a bedtime story,” Atsumu chirps. “C’mon. Tell me all about ‘er! I know you want to.”

Sakusa sighs again as he taps in a few loud keys. White orange tinted light turning his skin a filtered fuchsia as the screen flickers. “What are you five? You’re a little too old to be swapping secrets like a grade schooler.”

“Is she a secret though?”

“She’s not.” And that’s a resolute answer if he’s ever heard one.

“Then why won’t you tell me about her?!”

“Because-“ Sakusa blows out an exasperated breath.

There’s a long moment he spends pointing his nose to the hotel ceiling to quietly deliberate. Longer the few seconds he spends clenching and unclenching his jaw as his eyes fall and his pupils twitch in careful thought. He opens his mouth - closes it again but his lips part on their own. Sakusa blows out a breath until his voice comes tumbling after it, and it pains him to know that his fight for composure was fruitless.

“If I tell you, will you shut up and go to bed?”

Atsumu crosses his fingers over his chest. “Hand to God.”

Sakusa stares at him for a while.

“We’ve been… dating for the past couple of years,” Three years and eighteen days of pure bliss. “She was one of my sister's students so we met through her.”

The uncut version is that Sakusa stormed his sister’s office before her lecture could fully clear to bitch about her saddling him with mom on his only days off. Had to have looked mad as a snake when he walked in there, face twisted up and everything.

And obviously a 6’4 Olympian isn’t what your average college student expects to run into during their four o’clock lecture, especially when he’s calling out to their professor like he’s got a loaded gun in his hand. But you were too busy filling in your last minute notes to care about him or whatever he was doing at the time.

Sakusa sees you but he doesn’t see you. He just knows you’re the only person in this room and there’s a wicked witch on the loose. “Have you seen Kyouka?”

You hum. “Sakusa-san?”

“Obviously.”

Your eyes are the first thing he notices when you raise your head. They’re doey and soft and disarming. You’ve got that kind of look to you that reminds him of a love song; one of those old school radio ones that you hear in the car on the way to work but it’s stuck in your head throughout the day and you can’t stop singing it under your breath.

“You look like someone shit in your laptop and closed it.” You say.

The tendons in his jaw stress as you point your extended arm toward the door. “She’s in Nabuya’s lecture down the hall but, I don’t think she’s gonna talk to you with your face all twisted up like that.”

Sakusa quietly nods before turning his heel for the door.

It took two whole months of silently pining and bringing his sister pickled daikon for lunch to finally get you to agree to go out with him, and since then he’s been living on cloud nine.

“Oh-Ho!,” Atsumu grins. “And did charmin’ ol Omi put the work on her? ‘That it?”

He didn’t anticipate how dry the air would be on your first date so he wound up with a nosebleed that geysered for like a solid five minutes. “Yeah…”

“A’right, a’right, So… How is it that I’m just hearin’ about her now? I mean, from that phone call-“

“Let’s not talk about the phone call.”

Atsumu titters. And he seems genuinely happy to see his friend all settled down and loving someone so earnestly. He knows how difficult relationships can be for a high maintenance guy like him, and it’s refreshing to see his edges softened a little. He kicks his feet until he’s pressed against the headboard adjacent to Sakusa, smiling at him from across the way as he cradles a pillow against his chest.

“You should know that you’re safe to talk about yer personal life with us, Omi. It’s not like we were gonna tease ya too much about it.”

Sakusa blows out a short breath through his nose. “I know that. It’s just-…”

The way Sakusa softens up is quite honestly enough to make him start to blush. “____’s really special to me. So, I guess it’s hard to bring her up without getting touchy about feedback.”

Atsumu throws his head back a little. “Well, it’s flatterin’ that you’re bein’ so honest about it with me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He snorts as he rests his head on the headboard with a quiet thump!

And then he furrows.

Atsumu leans in to get a better look at his monitor. “Why ya lookin’ up purses?”

Sakusa hurriedly shuts his laptop.

Physical therapy

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 9: a time to learn

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 6.8k

chapter warnings: injury recovery, lots of emotions happening

a/n: no words can describe how difficult this chapter was to write haha i apologise for some of the transitions between scenes and also for the fact that i did not proofread more than a cursory skim.

i am not a doctor and i did minimal research on anything medical related

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

Chan’s not a doctor and he’s never wanted to be one. But the longer that he spends in the hospital, the more he wishes there was something he could do to help. He knows that in a way, his presence is helping. The doctor tells him that for injuries, a soulmate bond is actually beneficial because sufficient Charge can increase healing times. 

The doctor also explains that the more serious injury is the initial stab wound. The blade had damaged Y/n’s liver, which had required surgery and now demands constant monitoring. It was the main reason that Y/n would have to stay in the hospital for an extended period of time. While the second wound was larger and required more stitches, it was fairly shallow and was expected to heal without any issues. 

As expected, there’s various bruises from the fall, but what surprises Chan is that he’s told Y/n is suffering from a mild concussion. When he had watched the footage that he had saved from social media, he could see that Y/n may have hit her head, but it hadn’t seemed that hard.

It means that Chan hasn’t left the hospital yet. It doesn’t really help that Y/n was specifically brought to the hospital that her father owns and that she’s situated in one of the nicest rooms available. With a large private bathroom, a separate room that has a few couches and low tables to entertain guests, and a large bed that’s almost more comfortable than the one Chan has at home, there’s no reason to leave. Yonghwan has been going back to the dorms to collect clothes and other personal items, like Chan’s laptop and some equipment. After a few days, the boys are allowed to visit too, although only in small groups and for short periods of time. 

Chan kind of hates the medications that Y/n is put on. He knows that she needs them to deal with the pain, to protect her from infection, it's just difficult to witness how they make her woozy and extremely tired, drifting in and out of consciousness. When she is awake, her thoughts are scattered, she can’t concentrate for long periods of time, and she spends most of the time watching Chan as he works or dozing.

It's a relief when she's finally weaned off of the ones that have the worst side effects. 

Although she gets her phone back pretty soon after waking, Y/n doesn’t really touch it until her doctor lets her know that her concussion has healed and she’s been cleared to look at screens without any limitations. Chan has helped her with messaging some of her friends and family, but she seems pleased to have full access to her phone again. Chan leaves her to catch up on everything, taking out his laptop and opening up a track that he’s been trying half-heartedly to finish a first draft of. 

He gets pulled away from his work a couple hours later when Y/n calls his name. She’s biting at her lip and staring with a furrowed brow at something on her phone. He immediately sets aside his laptop and turns to face her, trying not to worry.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Did you- I saw-” Y/n takes a second to gather herself and then flips her phone to show him what she’s looking at. It’s a Twitter fanpage, dedicated to Chan’s Bubble subscription. The last tweets are the updates to his profile picture, background photo, name, and status.

He did it in a fit of anger, knowing it was about as much as he could do without getting in trouble with the company. He wouldn’t dare send any messages about the incident, especially ones that could be twisted the wrong way and end up hurting Y/n, but he couldn’t just sit and pretend everything was okay.

So he deleted it all. Or, rather as much as he could. Replacing the pictures with solid black, leaving the status line empty. He didn’t have as much freedom with his name, but left it as “찬“ and nothing more. He hadn’t sent anything since then, either.

The other members hadn’t changed anything on their profile, but they too had been subdued in their messaging. The first couple of days, they did nothing. After that, Changbin, Jisung, and Felix joined Chan in the continued radio silence. Hyunjin had sent pictures of the sunset, when it was Y/n’s favourite time of the day and the clouds were painted pink against the blue background of the sky. Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin had messaged only a couple times since then, reminders for Stays to eat well, get lots of rest, and stay safe.

There hadn’t been an official statement released by the company, but news of the incident had spread like wildfire.

“And yesterday was Sunday,” Y/n says slowly. “You were here the whole time, what about Channie’s Room?”

“What about it?”

“You didn’t do it?” When Chan just shrugs in response, Y/n’s brow creases like she’s trying to figure out some sort of puzzle. “What? But you… You always do it. Did the company tell you that you can't?”

“No, they didn't have to. I already let them know I wasn't going to."

"Then why?"

“I didn’t want to. I don’t want to,” Chan says sullenly, even though the explanation makes him feel like a toddler who doesn’t want to share their toys.

“What do you mean? It’s- You promised Stays! Here you can go now, just go to your studio and do a short live. If this is some sort of roundabout punishment for what happened-”

“I don’t want to,” Chan repeats. “All they’re going to do is spam the chat with questions about what happened. I don’t want to deal with that and honestly I don’t know if I can go through that without blowing up on them.”

"But-"

"Is it really so hard to believe that I have had other priorities the past few days? That I don't want to have to pretend that everything is okay?"

Y/n seems to soften at that. Chan reaches out and he catches her hand in his, mindful of the tape and IV that’s attached to it. The Charge warms between them.

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s-” she hesitates for a moment. “I’m glad that you’re taking a break. Sorry if it felt like I was pressuring you.”

“You weren’t. Everything that I’m doing, it’s my decision. I know everything has been pretty overwhelming lately, but you’re-”

Before he can finish, the door to their room slides open and a nurse steps in to serve them dinner. 

“What were you going to say?” Y/n asks once they’re alone again.

“I don’t remember anymore,” Chan lies. “So it probably wasn’t that important. Let’s eat.”

Chan’s almost glad for the interruption. The moment is gone now and Chan’s just now realising that he has no idea how Y/n would react if he had said what he wanted. That she was his biggest priority right now. That he cares about her. That he would do anything for her. 

He’ll do that later, when they’re at home. When everything has calmed down.

—

Chan wakes to the loud smack of someone’s hand against a table. His face is burrowed into the soft fabric covering Y/n’s shoulder, his arm is wrapped around her waist, and the whole length of his body relaxed by the warm thrum of the Charge. He cracks open one eye and, after seeing that neither Y/n nor Eunsung, who was the source of the noise, have seemed to notice, quickly closes it to feign sleep. 

When Eunsung speaks, his tone is exasperated, like he’s had this conversation multiple times before.

“Are you even listening to yourself? You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk to him about it,” he insists. “The doctor said you have acute fatigue and the only reason it’s getting better is because the two of you are practically glued together right now. The second that he starts going back to schedules, it’s going to be the same as it was before.”

“I was doing fine before,” Y/n defends herself. “Things just got so busy with all the concerts, I forgot to eat enough. As long as I make sure that I’m getting enough calories, it makes up for the Charge. I promise, I'll make sure to take better care of myself."

Chan has no clue what they’re talking about. Acute fatigue? Y/n not eating enough? Chan hasn’t heard anything on these before.

"I don't think you understand. It's not about you doing things to take better care of yourself, it's about him not letting you take care of yourself. If you Charged for at least 6 hours a day then you wouldn't have to worry about eating more than you used to. You shouldn't have to be making up for anything," Eunsung argues.

"Listen, Eunsung-oppa," she says. "I know you're saying this because you're concerned, but I know what I'm doing. This is… This is bigger than just Chan-ssi and I. He's not just my soulmate, he's the leader of Stray Kids, a producer for 3RACHA. It's- The work that he does- What I see on Twitter, the comments on Youtube, the posts on community. He has the power to reach so many people and make lives better. And he does. He’s such a good person. How can I do anything but support him in any way I can? Even if that means letting him push himself without stepping in, then I'll do it. I trust that he knows his own limits."

“And if that means him ignoring your limits?”

“Eunsung-oppa-” Y/n protests.

"You've talked to him about it," Eunsung interrupts her, clearly able to read something in her tone of voice.

"Yeah, I- I understand how you feel, being on that side of it. I thought that I could convince him, but it turns out that he convinced me instead."

"But the conversation you were having, it was about him taking care of himself instead of you prioritising your needs, wasn't it?" he presses. Y/n confirms, but it sounds reluctant. 

“He didn’t want to hear it. He was… I don’t know. I don’t want to say what he said to me.”

“And he never brought it up again?”

“He did, kind of. He said sorry the next day. And I know he’s sorry. I know some of the things that he said were just in the heat of the moment. I get it, I really do. He was stressed, tired, we probably weren’t getting enough Charge, even then. But… It hurt. What he said,” Y/n says, her voice small. “What he really meant. It still hurts a little, every time I think about it. Every time I see him.”

"Sometimes you two are too similar. You’re both just pretending you’re fine, but you’re not. I know Chan, maybe not as well as you, but in a different way. He’s not the type to just let this type of thing slide. As much as I hate him right now for making you hurt, if he doesn’t know that you’re hurting, then there’s no way that things will be fixed. I think you need to talk again, if he cares about you at all then he wouldn't just let this go."

"I think you're overestimating our relationship a bit."

"What? Even after the past few months, you guys aren't close?"

“I’m not delusional, I never had fantasies of us immediately falling in love like in the movies or shows, I just,” she shrugs with the shoulder the Chan wasn’t curled up against. “I don’t know, I just thought that we could be friends or something.”

“You wouldn't even consider yourself to be friends?” Eunsung says in a low voice.

“Actually, at one point I did think we were friends… or maybe more,” Y/n admits with a hollow laugh. “I was wrong. His attitude keeps changing, I can’t keep track of it. One second he’s annoyed at me for nagging him and the next he’s carrying me to bed because I fell asleep on the couch. But wherever we’re arguing, it feels like it’s always my fault. And I know, I know that I’m hard to be around. It’s just hard. The moments of… care, they were an illusion. It was all fake, like kids playing house. He can tolerate me of course, but in the end, I'm just someone he works with.”

"You don't think that if he were to hear what you're saying, he would be sad?" Eunsung asks. Y/n stays silent for a while.

“I don't know. What he said to me. I thought a lot about it. I- I want to make his life better, but I think… I think I make it worse. I don’t understand why we’re soulmates, I can think of a million people who would be better for him than me,” she finally confesses, voice sounding wet.

Eunsung shifts forward, but before he can speak, a nurse knocks on the door and lets herself in. It’s enough noise that Chan takes it as an opportunity to pretend to wake up. When Y/n notices, she looks back towards the nurse and quickly sits up straighter so that Chan's arm naturally falls away from where it’s wrapped around her.

“I think you should go to the company, Chan-ssi,” Y/n suggests after the nurse has finished redressing her wound and has left. Her voice is back to normal, upbeat even, and if Chan hadn't been awake then he wouldn't have been able to tell she had just been in a heavy conversation. It’s scary how easily she can mask her emotions. “I don’t want you to fall behind because of all the time you’ve been spending here. Eunsung is already heading there, he can give you a ride.”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Eunsung mutters, but he stands up and gathers his things without waiting for an answer. “Come on, let’s go.”

Normally, Chan would protest being ordered around, but at this point he’s just grateful to have some space to process what he just heard. He knows that Minho and Jisung were planning to visit soon and that Felix would be dropping by shortly after, so at least he feels somewhat comfortable leaving Y/n alone. He feels lightheaded and… bad in a way that he can’t describe. It's different than when he first found out that Y/n was hurt. Now it's almost like he’s dissociating, but worse because having an out-of-body experience would be better than the heavy press of emotions that he feels now. It’s clogging up his airways and all he can do is focus on following Eunsung out of the room.

Chan hasn’t had many opportunities to interact with Eunsung, but he knows for sure that they were never as tense as they are right now. It’s understandable though, after what he just heard. When Chan starts toward the lane where he usually gets picked up and dropped off, Eunsung instead steers him toward the parkade. 

“This way, superstar. Unlike you, I actually have the freedom to drive myself.” Chan barely notices the thinly veiled jab, he’s still reeling from the conversation. He can’t think of a comeback and really, doesn’t feel like he deserves to give a rebuttal.

When they finally stop in front of a car, Chan catches himself right before reaching for the back car door instead of the one to sit shotgun. 

The pair sit in silence for the first half of the ride, until Eunsung finally speaks up.

“You know, you don’t deserve her,” Eunsung says, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And you do?” Chan fires back, thinking of all the rumours he’s heard from the rest of the staff, the giggles he hears whenever Eunsung interacts with Y/n. Although his guilt is creeping up and clouding his thoughts, his first instincts are to feel defensive.

Y/n is his soulmate, not Eunsung’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen how close the two of you are.” He tries hard to not sound too accusatory, but instead his words come out as overly bitter.

"Yeah, we're friends."

"And is that all you want to be?"

In response, Eunsung just laughs incredulously. “What? Even you thought- You think that I like Y/n? I’m-” He can’t even finish his thoughts before he starts to laugh again. “Of course I like her, but she’s like a sister to me.” 

“Of course you would say that-”

“I’m married, Chan."

"What?" Chan exclaims. "But, but everyone was saying you- I thought- Who are you married to?"

"Saerom. I've definitely mentioned her before, I know for sure that Y/n has too."

“Oh,” he says dumbly, “I thought- I thought Saerom was the name of your dog.”

"What?!" Eunsung turns to gape at Chan.

“How was I supposed to know? You said you have to take her on walks otherwise she gets too restless, you talk about buying her treats! You said she doesn’t like it when you’re travelling for too long, it sounds like how Berry gets when the family goes on vacation. Just because she has a human name doesn't mean she is a human. I've never seen a picture of her either."

“Oh, I cannot wait to tell Y/n about this.” Eunsung continues to laugh while Chan hides his face in his hands. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire. He’s relieved that Eunsung isn’t secretly in love with Y/n but also mortified that he thought his wife was a dog. At this point, opening the car door and flinging himself out doesn’t sound like a bad idea to get himself out of this conversation.

“You don’t wear a ring,” he says, probably digging himself further into the hole he’s currently in.

In response, Eunsung hooks a finger under the collar of his shirt and pulls out a chain, a ring dangling on the end of it. They turn into the company parking lot and Eunsung kills the engine, turning to face Chan directly.

“Chan-ssi,” he says seriously. “I know that there are rumours about a relationship between Y/n and I. She knows about them too. I’m not deaf to the chatter or the way they react when we’re together. Just, is it really so bad if people suspect that the two of us are soulmates? And I’m not saying this because I enjoy all the rumours. It’s because I know that they mask any sort of interactions that you have with her. If any other staff finds out that you’ve been visiting her in the hospital, they wouldn’t think anything of it other than you being concerned because she’s a manager and you were right there when it happened.”

Even though Chan doesn’t like the idea, he knows that Eunsung is right. It’s safer this way. He just has to get used to swallowing the possessive part of him that wants to publicly declare his soulmate bond. He can do this if it means protecting Y/n.

“You’re right,” Chan says quietly.

“I know all of this must be hard for you and even harder if you didn’t know about Saerom. Just know, we’d never do anything outside of being friends, I promise. If you don’t trust me, then at least trust Y/n. And,” he hesitates for a moment. “I know you heard our conversation earlier.”

“What?”

“I saw when you woke up. You’re not as good of an actor as you think you are, but luckily for you, I don’t think Y/n noticed.”

“I- I really messed things up, didn’t I?” Chan says, feeling defeated.

“I’ll be honest, it’s going to be difficult, fixing your relationship. Y/n is very independent. It’s definitely one of her strengths, but it’s also a big weakness. She doesn’t ask for help, even if she needs it and she’s very hard on herself. You know her family, she’s used to doing things on her own. She’s trying her best with this whole soulmate situation and she was really opening up. She trusted you.”

The past tense in his sentence shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

“You hurt her,” Eunsung continues. “But I know Y/n will forgive you. She cares about you, a lot. If it wasn’t obvious by… everything that has happened so far. You just have to talk to her.”

“I- Thank you, Eunsung,” Chan finally says. “Thank you for being there for her, for helping with all of… this. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a good person, Chan-ssi. I want things to work out between the two of you.” Abruptly, Eunsung’s tone hardens. “But if you make a habit of hurting her, just know that sasaengs will be the least of your worries.”

—

Chan forces himself to try and be productive for at least an hour in his studio before resigning himself to the reality that he wouldn’t be able to get anything done with how distracted he is. He spends the whole time wishing that he was back at the hospital. 

Right as he’s about to call it a day, Jisung- who has just arrived after visiting Y/n and assures him that she’s still doing okay- and Changbin join him. They’ve actually been getting work done in the past few days and quickly run through the progress that they’ve made. Even with their presence, Chan’s attention span is practically non-existent. Everything seems to remind him of Y/n.

He ends up staying until the sun starts to set. When Changbin and Jisung start to discuss dinner options, he takes the opportunity to pack up his things.

“Hyung, are you not joining us?” Changbin asks.

“Sorry-” Chan starts saying.

“Hyung just wants to go and see Y/n again. He doesn’t care about us anymore,” Jisung whines playfully. 

“That’s not true!” Chan says indignantly.

“You don’t have to lie, just make it up to us.”

“Anything,” Chan agrees.

“Have dinner back at the dorms with us tomorrow,” Jisung says instantly. “You need to bring new clothes to the hospital anyway, you can save Yonghwan-hyung a trip this way.”

Chan realises this was his plan all along and reluctantly agrees. Logically, he knows that nothing will happen to Y/n while he’s away, he just feels better being able to see it with his own eyes.

—

When he gets back to the hospital, he’s surprised to find Y/n just staring blankly at the wall in front of her. She doesn’t react to the sound of the door opening or Chan’s greeting while he had closed it again. He approaches her cautiously, afraid of startling her, but still manages to make her jump when he gets into her field of vision.

“Oh!” she says breathlessly, putting a hand to her chest. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were back.” She automatically smiles at him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, just had a weird day,” she says in that same strange voice she had back in Japan. Chan is starting to realise it means that she’s hiding something.

“Y/n-”

“Maybe it’s just because you were gone. Not to be clingy or anything, I’m glad that you were finally able to go to the company and get some real work done, but I’ve gotten used to having you attached to my side,” she jokes. It’d be convincing if her voice was more steady, if her smile reached her eyes.

“Uhm,” Chan says, not quite sure if he should pursue the topic further or go along with Y/n’s attempt to gloss over it. “I’m sorry, I promised that I’d go back for dinner tomorrow.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at that. “You don’t have to apologise for that! I’m glad that you’re finally getting to see them after being cooped up here. They're your family, you have to spend time with them.”

“I wasn’t forced to stay here though! I want to be here, I want to be with you. You're my family too,” Chan says earnestly. 

Y/n's lips press tightly together at that and she breaks eye contact.

“How about this, Eunsung-oppa was planning to come by tomorrow sometime anyway. He said that he’d bring me some non-hospital food and I couldn’t say no,” she says instead of responding to Chan’s comment. “Felix wanted to come by again too, so you can go home at the same time as him. I’ll tell Eunsung-oppa to come by around dinnertime so you don’t feel like you’re leaving me behind, is that okay?”

“Okay, but promise me that if anything happens then just call me and I’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

—

Dinner with the members is rowdy as usual, maybe even moreso. Chan doesn’t think much of it, happy to have a distraction from his thoughts, until he takes a second too long to respond to someone and catches a couple of concerned glances. He realises that the boys are being overly rambunctious to keep him present. It warms his heart and makes him feel guilty at the same time.

After eating, Jisung slumps onto the couch, stretching out so that his feet hang over the side. Chan joins him, smothering him in affection before he leaves for the night. He knows that Jisung has been more anxious than usual these past few days and although he wishes he could do more to help him, his biggest priority at the moment is Y/n.

“Minho-hyung and I met Y/n’s family yesterday,” Jisung says, voice muffled from being pressed against Chan.

Chan bolts upright, accidentally elbowing Jisung in the process, forcing a groan out of him.

“What? When?” he demands. His mind is racing, finally able to sort out Y/n’s strange behaviour when he had last seen her.

“I forgot to mention it at the studio, but when I was visiting, they also showed up. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but they seemed alright.”

“Just alright?” Chan prompts him, trying to calm his heart rate which has spiked.

“Uhm, I mean her parents were very… polite. They spoke to Y/n privately so I just met them briefly.”

“Where did you go?”

“Her brother, Siwon, I forgot he’s a doctor too. He took me to a private lounge they had, there weren’t any people around which was good. He seemed nice, concerned about Y/n.”

“Well not that concerned,” Chan mutters darkly, “since he didn’t even bother to visit until yesterday.”

Jisung stares at him, clearly shocked by the sudden vitriol.

“Sorry,” Chan says, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up wildly. “It’s just been a lot these days, my emotions are everywhere.”

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jisung says cautiously. “It’s been a lot for all of us, but mostly you and Y/n.”

Chan hums in agreement, but still feels bad.

“You can go back now if you want,” Jisung prompts him.

“What? No, I-”

“I can tell you’re distracted,” he says. “Go, we’ll still be here when she’s better.”

Chan goes.

—

The route to the hospital and through the back entrance is becoming more familiar by now. Chan accidentally startles Y/n when he opens the door to her room, but her expression quickly settles to one of relief upon seeing him. Now that he’s looking closely, he can recognize the same, strained smile that he first saw at Chuseok. 

She shuffles to the side of the bed and lifts the blankets so that Chan can sit beside her. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer.

“The boys all missed you,” he says in greeting. “Dinner wasn’t the same with just the eight of us.”

“Oh come on-”

“You’re part of us, now. I told you before. And-” Chan hesitates for a moment. “I heard that your parents visited.” Y/n stiffens for a second, before relaxing again.

“Ah, Jisungie, the little snitch,” she says, the fondness in her voice opposing her words. “Yes, they dropped by while you were away.”

“And?”

“Well, my eomoni was telling me that it was a sign that I should quit my job, get out of the industry, said I was stupid for getting between the sasaeng on you, the usual. But I got my abeoji to look over my files, when I asked he said that I can be released tomorrow!” she says excitedly, smiling so much that her eyes curve into crescents. “I get to go home!”

It’s clear that things with her parents didn’t go as well as Y/n is projecting, but Chan is too much of a coward to push more. Somehow that righteous anger that had filled him when he had talked to Jisung has been replaced with uncertainty. He doesn’t want to get into yet another disagreement with Y/n now that he knows what she truly thinks of him. Or rather, what she thinks that he thinks of her. He needs to focus on bringing them together instead of allowing them to drift further apart. He vows to bring this topic up another time, when things are better between them.

“That’s great!” he replies, but even as he says it, he can’t help the nervousness that starts to form in his stomach at the thought. He is happy that she’s been healing well and will definitely be reassured to have her back home, but until now, the hospital has served as a sort of protective bubble for Y/n, shielding her from the outside world. He has the irrational sense that keeping her here longer is the same as keeping her safe for longer.

—

“Bang Chan-nim?” The doctor that has been in charge of Y/n’s care steps into the room and glances at Y/n, who is busy packing away her things. All morning she’s been in a good mood, enthusiastically talking about what she plans to do once she’s back at the dorms. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course!” he replies. He tells himself that everything is alright, but can't stop himself from running his hands through his mess of hair, palms prickling with nerves.

The doctor leads Chan to his office and smiles at him gently, like he’s about to break some bad news and needs to make sure that Chan doesn’t also break. It makes things worse, Chan’s stomach starts to churn, his mind racing.

“This might be a difficult conversation, but you may already be aware.” The doctor starts slowly. “Y/n-nim works with idols, right? In the entertainment industry?”

“Yes,” Chan agrees, but he’s confused. Did someone leak the news of Y/n’s injuries? Is there a sasaeng that’s been visiting the hospital? He wants to pull out his phone and immediately call the company and force them to do more damage control, but the doctor continues.

“These days, there is a lot of pressure for young women, especially those who work with or follow idols, to fit into certain beauty standards.” Chan nods. He’s seen countless people destroy their bodies to try and lose more and more weight and knows how devastating it is, but he still doesn’t understand the point of this conversation.

“I’m concerned about Y/n-nim”-the doctor interrupts Chan’s thoughts-“When she came to the hospital, we were focused only on her injuries, but throughout her treatment, we have noticed that she is underweight. The testing that we’ve done tells us she has not been getting enough of what her body needs. Not getting enough food, not enough charge, and not enough rest. She's showing signs that she was becoming malnourished.

“It’s not uncommon to see those with soulmates, especially young women, take advantage of the bond, reducing charging time and saying that they will eat more instead. They often eat a normal amount so that it doesn’t concern anyone, but it’s not nearly enough to make up for the missing charge. Both of you have probably been more sensitive lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve also noticed yourself being irritable or having rapid mood changes these past few days."

Chan can't do anything but stare as the doctor pulls out a small packet of paper. His pulse roars in his ears and all he can feel is guilt, pooling in his stomach and creeping towards his extremities. He feels nauseous. This is his fault.

He thinks back to all the nights where he stayed in the studio, just a little bit longer to finish a track, sliding into bed to charge for only a few hours before they had to wake up. Of the extra meals, protein drinks, snacks he had consumed that he thought nothing of, too used to the varying diets of the rest of the members depending on their schedules and the ups and downs of bulking up or cutting calories. He’s used to the heaviness of his eyelids, the pounding headaches, and occasional dizziness that were the result of sleepless nights.

All these things he had taken in stride, forgetting that Y/n had been dealing with too. He had the luxury of being an idol, during schedules and tour, there was always breaks for food. But he had seen the way the managers and coordis had to run around, only eating when they had a couple minutes to spare.

He knows that he’s snapped at Y/n more than a few times, patience worn thin enough that at the end of the day he doesn’t have it in him for niceties. Of course, he had felt bad about it after the fact, but Y/n hadn’t seemed very phased by it and he had forgotten about it until the next time. It wouldn’t be the first time that stress made him more easily annoyed and ill-tempered, but now he realises why he seemed quicker to get caught up in his emotions.

The doctor continues talking, but Chan feels like he's underwater, the sound is muffled. This is his fault. 

"Bang Chan-nim!" The doctor clasps one of Chan's hands in his and finally pulls his attention away from his self-loathing thoughts. "Are you okay? I know it can be a shock to find out, but don't feel bad. It's very common to be surprised, people are good at hiding things like this, even if you're close to them and I know that your bond is still relatively new. Luckily there are a lot of strategies we have to help your soulmate get more Charge, even if you both have busy schedules. Okay?"

"Okay," Chan replies weakly, he can barely focus on what’s being said, all he can think of is that he's the reason his soulmate is malnourished. And he didn't notice. That they think Y/n has an eating disorder, when it's him that has dictated the amount of charge that she gets. The doctor flips open the packet of papers and starts to highlight it.

"The most important thing right now is increasing Charging time. With Y/n-nim's injuries, her bedrest and all the time you two have spent charging have already been helping a lot. Take this recovery period as a time to build new habits and establish a routine that involves more skinship. I understand you two are busy, but I expect you try for at least 6 or 7 hours of sleep while charging, but more if possible. If you're both doing work on the computer, watching a show or movie, or eating, then sitting close enough to touch will help recharge without taking away from your regular activities. As you may already know, for the most efficient charging more skin-to-skin contact is recommended." He flips the front page back over and places the packet onto another, larger, stack of papers. "More details can be found here and this is the rest of Y/n-ssi's care instructions, prescriptions, and other information on soulmate bonds."

"Thank you so much," Chan says, automatically reaching out to accept all the papers.

"You're welcome. This must be very overwhelming, but Y/n-nim is healing quickly. Your bond is helping her recover much faster. We caught her malnutrition fairly early and expect that she'll be at normal energy levels within a few weeks. Don't feel guilty and try not to worry too much, Bang Chan-nim. Your bond is a good thing, not a bad one." The doctor smiles warmly, checking his watch and standing up. "Y/n-nim should be ready to be discharged now, let's go back to the room so that we don’t keep her waiting."

Chan follows the doctor back in a daze. Y/n is sitting on one of the chairs in her room, scrolling on her phone when they arrive. She brightens when they enter.

“Can we leave now?” she asks eagerly. Chan beelines to her side, reaching to hold her hand.

“Yes, everything has been sorted out now and Bang Chan-nim has all your care instructions. Please give us a call or come to visit if you have any questions or concerns at all,” the doctor says.

“Of course.”

“Looks like everything is ready to go. It was very nice to meet you both, although I wish it could have been under better circumstances. I hope that the rest of your recovery goes well, Y/n-nim, and please do not hesitate to contact us for anything.” With that, the doctor bows and leaves the room.

At the same moment, a nurse knocks on the doorframe as a greeting, pushing a wheelchair through the open door. Y/n’s smile fades when she sees it.

“Oh, no,” she says quickly. “I can walk, there’s no need for one of those.”

She turns to look at Chan for support, but he just shrugs helplessly. Secretly, he would feel better if she used it. After only a week in the hospital, she isn’t close to being fully recovered, even if she hides it well. He’s seen the slight grimaces when Y/n tries to shift positions and the way her face is lined with pain when she walks or has to stand straight for longer than a few minutes. If she pushes herself too much now, it’ll just extend the overall healing process.

“Really, I don’t need it,” she insists. “What was the point in all the walking practise? Besides, Chan-ssi and Yonghwan-ssi will be beside me, they won't let anything happen to me.”

The nurse looks sceptical, but agrees. Before they leave the room, Y/n twists her hand trying to break Chan’s grip. 

“It’s too public,” she murmurs when he tightens his hold instead. “Just in case, I don’t want anyone to see anything that can be misinterpreted.”

Unable to think up an argument against that, Chan reluctantly lets go. Y/n hooks her arm with Yonghwan’s instead and they make their way out, Chan hovering behind them anxiously. They’re all wearing masks and hats and the car that’s going to pick them up is waiting at a private exit, but there’s a shared urgency in their movement. By now, the media has turned their attention to other stories, but with the radio silence from Stray Kids since the incident, fans have had nothing to do except theorise and wonder what’s happening behind the scenes. 

He knows that it’s making him paranoid. He finds that he’s constantly looking over his shoulder when he’s in the hallways of the hospital. He’s never been more careful trying to cover up his appearance and avoid anybody who looks like they might recognise him. 

They can’t risk the chance of a sighting of Y/n, especially now that her face was captured and shared on social media by fans before JYPE’s legal team was able to step in, and pictures of Chan with Y/n would make things much worse. There have already been rumours about how close Y/n is with all the members and who she is, using pictures from other schedules and events, somehow identifying her in blurred out clips from vlogs that have been posted, and even old footage from when she worked with Xdinary Heroes as evidence. 

It scares Chan. Scares him so much that he can’t talk about it to anybody.

Although Y/n’s time in the hospital was fairly short, all things considered, Chan feels like he’s the one that has changed during this stay. Everything he has learned has made him feel like his chest has been opened up and his insides have been scooped out, leaving him hollowed out and unsteady. 

When they finally get home safely, it feels like Chan can breathe easily for the first time in days.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

[hijinxthinks]

Christopher Bang Chan who would love:

- your stage presence and the dichotomy between that and your offstage self. he would be in awe, backstage, watching your set while in his dressing room on the monitor hanging on the wall. “you killed it!” he would enthusiastically say once you finish your set and come back to your dressing room. he would be fully dressed for his set, which is coming up soon, on a different stage at the festival, but he would be waiting for you in your dressing room, and on the last night of your tour, he would present you with a bouquet of red and black roses tied with black and purple ribbons and be waiting with a really beautiful necklace that suits you, it might even be a black bat, wings extended, in a pretty case that he presents to you. “congrats on your first tour, baby, you did it! you’re a fucking rockstar!”

- your intelligence. one of his favorite subjects is space, and the way you both can go into discussions of hypothetical astronomical events for hours on end makes you one of his favorite people to talk to.

- it doesn’t end there, though, he loves that you are the world’s weirdest encyclopedia of random knowledge. he doesn’t know what to expect to come out of your mouth anymore. he’s sitting at the center island of the kitchen, typing away on his laptop while you brew a pot of coffee for yourself and while you’re waiting, you’d say “did you know a dolphin orgy is called a wuzzle?” and he’ll look up with his confused expression, “a wuzzle?” he’ll repeat, making sure he had heard your nonsense correctly. you sip your coffee, leaning back against the counter as you face him, “yeah, and rams prefer to be homosexual, a lot of animals are inherently homosexual actually-“ at that point he has to stop you, “wai-wai-wait, what? how do you know this?” you shrug, taking another sip as you sing out like a 90s informercial, “the more you know~” it makes him laugh, and speaking of which…

- chan loves your sense of humor. the air sign in him bows to the air sign in you. the dialogues you two share make the both of you fit for a reality series. somehow you land witty comebacks and animated expressions that have him giggling like an idiot. chan can’t take you anywhere, you have no filter. he thinks it’s hilarious but also could get you into trouble. he doesn’t like to admit the tiny adrenaline rush he gets from the chance of you being heard muttering “well fuck me i guess” when someone walks through a door you held open for them without saying ‘thank you’. and you could say it a dozen times and he still thinks it’s hilarious when you land a perfectly timed “alright then, good talk.” after being unceremoniously disconnected from a phone call.

- chan loves and admires your work ethic in the studio. he’s extremely impressed by how you take charge of your projects, taking and giving suggestions to the engineer, understanding rhythm, music theory and composition. when it comes to music, you know what you want and how to direct your team to get it. he’s not used to such a vast level of early career full freedom of artistic choice. you’re a relatively new artist, yet you’re the one calling the shots, making the decisions on how things sound. he loves sitting on the couch in the studio, on his laptop, creating himself in between getting caught up in how good something sounds and becoming distracted, a face of complimentary disgust at how fucking sick your last take sounded once the engineer punched the music in.

- its a given he loves the musician in you, but particularly on foggy, autumn sunday mornings, or late, cool, rainy october nights, when you can be heard playing intricate chords and humming along, or when you strum your guitar, even with the muted strings you didn’t mean to mute, he’s just in love with your feel for music. it’s something that can’t be taught, musicianship is in your bones and he can hear the effects of that as he lies in bed, scrolling on his phone. he’ll be reading the comments of a video one minute, and his ear will catch the pattern of your singing and playing the next, and he’ll find his head grooving and nodding to your rhythm as the backdrop for the little time he spends at home. everytime you pick up a new instrument, you take to it like a pro, and he’s proud to be matched with someone as creatively intuitive as you. you end up inspiring him to be great.

- chan loves how sentimental you are. he’s a romantic libra, after all, ruled by venus, the planet of love and beauty. you remember important moments and celebrate the anniversaries of them in special, unique ways that show how thoughtful you are. you’ll keep movie ticket stubs, or confetti shot out from cannons at a show. he’s naturally the same way, but it’s rare to find someone like that, and he’s found it in you. you’ll secretly prepare his favorite meal, play music by his favorite artist, and have a unique gift for him, even if it’s just to celebrate the anniversary of the debut of his group. no matter what the occasion, you put effort into it and he’s attracted to that.

- as a fellow air sign, chan loves that you’re vocal during sex. air signs are communicative and flirty, and thrive off stimulating verbal communication when done right during intimacy. he’s not used to his partner saying so many things, making his brain work to talk back even though he’s lost in the feeling of your pussy squeezing around him, wetting his thighs with each slap against your skin. that’s not enough, no, you have to talk him through it too, “yes, yes, im your good girl, right? right chan? i wanna be so good for you.” the way you whimper underneath him, it’s reassuring to his ego, and stimulating his carnal instinct to feel you coming around him, because if he’s being honest, that’s one of the best feelings in the world to him. “yeah, you are my—good girl, fuck,” he can barely hold back from how you tighten around him when he says it, “you’re always daddy’s good girl, yeah?” he knows you love to hear him talk, really sometimes it can be the silliest thing because he loves that you…

- are fascinated by the things that naturally make chan—well, chan. after being in such close proximity to him for so long, the novelty of his accent wears off to the average human, but every now and again he’ll say something that is just so…foreign that you’ll point it out, mock it, and giggle and find such joy and entertainment in just the pronunciation of a word or an unfamiliar figure of speech. “i dunno, i like the way the accent feels in my mouth when i try to do it. it feels like there’s something in the back of my throat,” you’ll say another word that sounds so vastly different in his dialect, like ‘traffic’, or ‘egg’, and you’ll butcher it so bad, and end up sounding like the australian equivalent of a redneck, and he’ll always laugh, rhetorically asking “what??” and you’ll spit it back out at him again, in an embarrassingly american way and it reminds him just how different you two are, but just how special he is, and always has been. “i have no idea, honest to god, you could read me the dictionary and i’d fall asleep,” you’d say, when he asks just what is it about his accent that you find so attractive. “-wet, i’d fall asleep wet, for sure, but i’d at least fall asleep. can you imagine? i mean think about it, you’re turning me on to the sound of the definition of ‘compass’” there you go with your blunt, transparent and honest humor again, bringing him to laughter at how ridiculous you can be sometimes.

but he loves it 🖤

[rosewaterandivy]

2. make plans to break plans

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumass reader

Warnings: no use of y/n - reader goes by Trouble instead, depictions of high school, cursing, dumb group chats & contact names, references to Vine memes, mention of a broken engagement, sad girl hours

A/N: Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance. Here’s 3.1K of Steve and Reader’s ~feelings~; feedback and reblogs are appreciated, enjoy!

series masterlist

previous || next

Then - Fall term, November

The end of the day finds you hunched over your keyboard, furiously typing back a reply to some helicopter parent. You blow out a puff of breath and hit ‘send’ as your door creaks open.

“Hey,” Steve greets pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He sets his hydroflask down on your desk with a clang and leans against a nearby desk. “You ready?”

“Yeah, gimme just a sec,” you say, logging off for the day. Turning back to your desk, you give him a small smile and shove a few things into your backpack. On Tuesdays and Thursdays the two of you worked at Tiger Library, aka extended tutorial sessions in the library. The extra pay was decent and it allowed you both time to keep up with any grading or lesson planning that had gone neglected during the week.

You rearrange a few items on your desk before swiping a stack of essays to hopefully grade. Steve hits the lights after you, while you nudge the door open with your hip, elbow pressing down on the door handle and balance a backpack dangerously close to slipping from your shoulder. 

“Gimme,” he tuts, index finger looping around the strap sliding from your arm, “S’okay, I got it.”

You hum in assent, turning to take the stairs down to the first floor, Steve hot on your heels. “Thanks,” you try to keep your voice level and impassive passing through the corridor. Steve keeps a respectful distance as you stride through the doors of the library. 

Something is wrong, but he can’t guess as to what. You’d been off all week; since your weekend bender, really. Nance had dropped you back at The Hideout to get your car and once she’d returned she beelined directly to her room and didn’t say a word.

Nancy rarely has such a visceral reaction to anything, so whatever you had divulged to her was enough to crack the surface of her rage. Having been on the receiving end of it before, Steve knows it’s endless. 

But the question remains, why haven’t you said anything to him? You’re friends, thick as thieves and have been for god knows how long. Yes, you’re an unfiltered, oblivious dumbass with poor emotional regulation skills, and he hates that at times. But you are his friend; and Steve currently wants to throttle himself for allowing you to go radio-silent for the better part of a week.

He sighs, for what feels like the millionth time today, he’ll let you be. 

For now.

Students have claimed tables and chairs for the evening, notebooks and laptops scattered here and there. Chairs pulled up as teens arranged themselves amongst their cliques, catching up on the latest gossip since the final bell rang. 

Making quick work of Vickie’s computer you set up shop, decidedly ignoring her post-it reading ‘Dumb & Dumber - don’t mess with my shit!’ Steve slides in the circulation desk behind you, depositing your backpack at your feet. Silently, you prize the post-it from the monitor with two fingers and pass it to Steve who reads it with a snort.

He snaps a quick photo to send to the ‘elite meeting’ group chat and tosses it into the trash. Queueing up the collaborative playlist for the night, you call out, “Okay team, this is our final Humanities night at Tiger Library before the fall break, so you know the drill.”

The students turn to the circulation desk, conversations falling to a murmur. Steve crosses his arms and leans back against the built-in bookshelf, he gestures between the two of you with his index finger, “Ask either of us a math or science question and you will be vacated from the premises.”

A few laughs and snickers ring out here and there.

“Yeah,” you concur, “Harrington will suplex you into next week and I’ll post it to the school’s socials.” 

That shuts them right up. 

“Furthermore,” you continue, “The collab playlist is live for tonight and if any of you turkeys forces me to listen to anything that would make your friends and parents ashamed to know you,” you pause, eyeing a few kids menacingly, “I will force everyone present to listen to ska for the rest of the session. Got it?”

Steve shudders and shakes his head, “That is not an idle threat, by the way. She’s done it before and it was god awful.”

Announcements made, you and Steve sign off on a few seat-time papers for the credit recovery kids and settle in for the night. You open your texts to find a notification from Eddie in the group chat. Reading through Harrington and Buckley’s responses, you tap out a reply to Eddie’s question. 

💫elite meeting💫

bandcamp 👿: why is my paladin not at Hellfire you schmucks?

god’s fav 😎: spill the tea, sis.

dingus 👽: ooh, if he’s breakin out the yiddish he must be pissed!

trouble 👁️👄👁️: it’s like you don’t even read your emails eds.

god’s fav 😎:  whaddup, i’m eddie, i’m 28, and i never learned how to fuckin read ✌️

 bandcamp 👿: shut up.

During tutorial nights, someone from the group would be assigned to take care of dinner for whomever else was stuck on campus. Nancy had made a laminated chart and stuck it to the loft’s fridge, y’know, like any completely sane person would do. 

You huff a laugh and open your insta feed, clicking on the invite in your messages. ‘Steve has invited you to eat at Chipotle today!’ You select your regular order, tacking on some chips and queso for good measure. 

After a while, a student shyly approaches the circulation desk with a worn copy of The Catcher in the Rye and a worksheet in hand. You give her a reassuring smile and invite her to take a seat. As you’re reviewing the questions she’s struggling with, Eddie storms into the room searching for Mike.

“Wheeler,” he bellows, startling the students from their conversations, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The student at your side jumps in her chair at the sheer volume of his voice. “Oy, Munson,” you hiss, “Can it!” He fixes you with a perturbed glance and strides over to Mike’s table to tear him a whole new asshole.

Managing to get the students back on track, you talk through the more complex passages of the text with the girl, directing her back to the questions when appropriate, and send her off with a friendly wave.

Returning from his circuit around the library, Steve dramatically slumps into the chair at your side, letting out a long-suffering sigh. He shoves his glasses up to his hair in an effort to scrub at his eyes. “What’s got ya down, clown?”

He blows a raspberry and rolls his eyes at your quip. “See that table by the windows?”

“Yeah,” you nod, noting the giggling group of girls, freshmen, if you had to guess. Sneaking side-long glances at Steve before blushing profusely and turning back to their friends. “Ooh, they seem struck by you!” you tease, letting your voice twang in a southern affectation.

“Don’t encourage them!” he admonishes, “They wanted help with geography, I don’t even teach that,” he sulks. 

“Steven,” you gasp, “Don’t tell me you never learned to read a map, you are an educator!”

Steve fixes you with a glance, “I’ll have you know, it all gets very confusing in Europe after the dissolution of the Soviet Bloc.”

“Don’t you teach AP World: Modern?”

“Yeah, you know that.”

“A-are you indoctrinating the students, Steve?” you needle him, earning an exasperated huff in response. “Snowflake,” you tsk reproachingly, “Trigger warnings! War on Christmas!” 

The taunting continues until Eddie approaches the desk. With a too-wide smile directed at Steve, you cut your eyes across the library to where Wheeler sits trembling like a leaf.

Mike looks well and thoroughly abashed after whatever Munson just lectured him about. Sinking as low in his seat as he did during the parent conference facilitated by Assistant Principal Bauman. Munson had clearly laid it on thick. 

Chains jangling against his hip, he sits on the desk. “Hey there, big boy,” he purrs winking at Steve, causing him to blush and sputter. “Light of my life,” he croons addressing you, “A thousand apologies for young Wheeler there,” he nods at the dejected teen in question, “It will not be happening again.” Raising his voice to a louder pitch, hollers out, “Not on my watch!”

“Yeah,” you goad him, waggling your brows, “On god, no cap?”

He stares at you as if you’d grown another head, and leans down to your level. “What fuckin’ Tik-Tok nonsense is that now?”

A notification pings from someone, Steve probably; grandpa that he is, he refuses to silence his phone like a normal person, no matter how many times you show him the focus or do not disturb function. 

He throws his keys at Eddie, who catches them before the ring of metal can brain him in the face. Steve pouts as Eddie jangles them triumphantly walking out the door, “Be back in five, hot stuff!”

Steve sends you an annoyed look, “Please tell me that wasn’t directed at me.”

You take a loud sip from his hydroflask and grin, “No, you’re big boy and I’m hot stuff,” you chide. “C’mon now.” Like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“So,” he mutters escorting you to your car later that evening. “Are you ever gonna spill what went down the other night?”

“Huh,” you kiss your teeth with a wet click, bag slung haphazardly across your arm. “Thought Nance would’ve cracked by now.”

“What d’ya mean?”

You kick at the rocks scattered along the blacktop, refusing to meet his eyes. “Well,” you sigh. A grunt, a huff of breath before you tug at the strap of your backpack and admit flatly, “He, uh, ended it.” You hold up your left hand and wiggle your fingers in proof, and sure enough, no engagement ring in sight.

Steve never truly understood what people meant when they said the phrase ‘seeing red’ until now. Granted, he’d been knocked on the head more than most in his time, but even with the concussions he still had enough sense to know that you were the real fucking deal. And any asswipe that thinks he can do better than you is sorely mistaken.

He should know.

Willing himself not to vibrate with rage, he slings an arm across your shoulders and pulls you to his chest. You sniffle and press your forehead to his neck, he smells clean and comforting like cypress and vetiver with the faintest whiff of laundry detergent. 

“M’sorry honey,” he soothes, voice soft and low, subtly rocking from side to side as you fail to stop the tears from falling. “I gotcha, it’s okay.”

Naturally, you completely lose your shit in the school parking lot while Steve holds you. And truthfully, you’re more frustrated than anything because you’d been trying so damn hard to keep it together this week. You thought you’d been doing pretty well, too, until Harrington used his dumb best-friends-forever powers of perception.

Unbeknownst to you, everyone’s been desperately trying to keep their cool. 

Nancy was tight-lipped about the cause for your bender last weekend, but occupants of the loft were distinctly aware of how rigidly she held herself after dropping you off. Completely glued to her phone in case you needed anything at all and going so far as to out-law rom-coms for seemingly no reason.

His anger is simmering now, bubbling just under the surface because hell if he’s going to let you see how affected he is. True, he was never the biggest fan of your fiancé, well, ex-fiancé now, but he seemed like an okay guy. 

Clearly not.

A wet sob claws its way from your throat as Steve draws you closer, his hand cradling the back of your head. He’s doing his best to comfort you, but there’s only so much he can do in the parking lot of Hawkins high school. 

He pulls back briefly to look down at you, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “Wanna crash at the loft?” He asks, voice hushed, as if he’s afraid to spook you. You glance over your shoulder to your car parked a few spaces away, eyes wide and wet.��

Steve feels like he’s lost all language. Doesn’t know any words because you’re stuttering, cursing, and sobbing against his chest like he’s never heard before. He’s at a complete loss as he shepherds you toward his car, opening the passenger door and sliding you into the seat. He has to pry your fingers off from the way you’d latched on to his shirt. 

As the door closes, he grabs his phone and types out a quick missive to let the roommates know what’s coming.

🫰freeloaders🫰

steeb🖕: nance, a heads up would’ve been nice

bucko 🤠: 👀

nwa 🔪: oh shit.

dumbass🤘 : stop talking in code nerds

steeb🖕 has changed the name of this group from 🫰freeloaders🫰 to 👊 fight club👊

steeb🖕: trouble is crashing with us, it’s bad guys. like, defcon 1

bucko 🤠: isn’t that the lowest level of defcon?

steeb🖕: not the time robs

nwa 🔪: her fiancé broke it off, that’s why she got shitfaced. didn’t want me to say anything until she was ready

bucko 🤠: what a piece of shit

dumbass🤘: i’m gonna need his name and address, ss# is a plus but not a necessity 

bucko 🤠: eddie NO

steeb🖕: eddie YES

nwa🔪 has ‘liked’ this message

“Sorry–” you whisper hoarsely, “I’m–sorry–”

Steve’s mouth falls open, so fucking helpless and confused. “There’s no need for that,” he assures you, “You didn’t do anything hon.”

You’ve barely gotten out of the shower, hair damp and dripping on the tiles of the bathroom. You stand in the doorway, dressed in an oversized Warped Tour shirt from ages ago, one bare foot scratching the adjacent ankle. 

Steve had to coax you to shower after arriving at the loft, your face puffy, smeared with tears and snot. Once you had been safely stowed in the shower, Nancy went into crisis-management mode. Delegating tasks to everyone in proximity to her and speaking in hushed tones with your parents on the phone.

Robin was in charge of securing a sub for you tomorrow (and, let’s be honest, one for Eddie, Steve, and herself as well), Eddie was researching moving companies and doing some mild internet sleuthing about your ex, just for his own research purposes, which left Steve on babysitting duty.

You start crying again, hiding the tears in your palms and dropping to the floor, curling up. Shit. Shit. Shit. Steve’s losing it. Can’t even keep you happy for two seconds–which he knows is the easiest job in the world because you have attention span of a goldfish and will laugh at anything.

He’s still perplexed when he drops to the floor with you, splaying his legs around your body, wrapping his arms around your back. His shirt is basically soaked through, sopping with your tears but that doesn’t deter you. You burrow into his chest, hands crawling up his shoulder blades, fingertips digging in enough to bruise, and you cling to him like a lifeline. Steve’s chest swells in pain for you, a hurt he feels down to his bones. You’re shaking with sobs and shivery hot in his arms.

Unable to soothe your tears, Steve gets to work and slides an arm down underneath your legs to secure you against his chest. “Okay honey, hold tight,” he breathes, scooping you up as he rises from the cold tile floor. You press your face further into his chest, sinking so deep into his hold he thinks you might fall right into him. Another choked sob as you nod.

He carries you down the hall and into his bedroom, all dark and quiet. Steve lays you down atop his sheets where you continue to sob fitfully, eyes blooming with fresh tears. He reaches over your body, takes the far edge of the sheet and pulls it around, tucking it beneath your back. He does the same to the other side and soon enough, you’re wrapped snugly in its cocoon. Only your head is visible.

And he knows you’re sad, and it’s very fucking real. The kind of sadness he felt when Nancy crushed his heart to smithereens back in high school. That, but times a thousand.

“How’s that?” he says, breaking the silence now that your cries have died down. “Better?”

You blink at him after a while. Your head jerks a few times, eyes pointedly cutting to the open space on the bed next to you.

Steve shucks his shirt, volleying it to the hamper, and slips in chuckling at the way you inch your body closer to his. His arm falls to rest against your hip, “Okay honey,” he whispers over the top of your head, “Better now?”

“Mmhm,” you sigh, pressing your forehead to his chest once more. “Stevie,” you rasp, voice muffled, “Can you stay?”

“Yeah,” he says right away, fingers sketching along your side, a crease of worry forming between his brows. “‘Course I’ll stay honey, long as you want.”

Steve spends another couple of hours with you, settling down in hopes that you’ll eventually drift off to sleep. He pulls a movie up on his phone, something with little emotional labor because you’re more than likely spent for the week. He lays next to you on the bed, propped up by a pillow or two, his free hand tracing calming circles against your hip. After the credits roll, your swollen eyelids begin to slip shut.

He stays for a little longer, just until your breathing evens out and he knows you’re asleep. As gently and slowly as he can, Steve gets out of bed careful not to jostle you awake and makes his way to the living room. Everyone’s awake and lost in their own little world, it’s quiet save for the sound of clacking keys and mouse clicks. 

Settling against an armchair, he clears his throat and says, “She’s asleep, for now.”

“How’s she doing?”

He shrugs, because isn’t that the million dollar question. Steve couldn’t begin to guess at that thoughts rattling through your brain. But he tries anyway, “Uh, not great.”

Silence settles around them once more. Steve stares wordlessly at the ceiling and grits his teeth loud enough for everyone to hear. He inhales a deep, steady breath and it feels like the only one he’s taken in hours.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to fall back on a familiar feeling. To push past all the anger and hurt; the tinge of his own failure he tries not to associate with you, struggles to do that most days, too. 

Behind the darkness of his eyelids, there is strangely so much light.

A semblance of hope.

[teaberrii]

Chapter 8: Friend or Foe

You've been Cupid for as long as you can remember. You've brought countless soulmates together, yet you've never found love.

When you're assigned to bring two childhood friends back together, it should be simple until you unexpectedly catch feelings for the mysterious and cold Ph.D. student, Dan Heng, the man with a soulmate… the man with answers to your past.

Dan Heng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

A man with a white ponytail and golden eyes walks up to a large window with a view of Xianzhou’s horizon. The sky has become a blended mix of warm hues that makes the bright lights of many of the city’s skyscrapers stand out.

The man has a hand in his pocket, his cold stare on the city as he listens to the person on the other side. Finally, he asks, “Do you have a name?”

“…I don’t. But it’s a man in his mid-twenties. Apparently, a Ph.D. student is using him as a test subject.”

The golden-eyed man narrows his eyes. “...Ph.D. student? Get me a name."

“Yes, Boss.”

The man ends the call and slips the phone into his dress shirt pocket. He still has his eyes on the scenery when he senses a presence behind him.

“I was expecting you,” he says, not turning around. Lan stands beside a large uniquely-shaped desk with two large monitors and a laptop. The man faces the God and extends his arm as if welcoming him. “It’s nice to see you again, Lan.”

“Save the theatrics, Jing Yuan.”

“You visit every time this God damn disease reappears. Why not make things a little more interesting?”

Lan walks up beside him. “Here’s a little piece of news for you. The disease is changing… again. I visited the man you just heard about.”

“…How did you find him?”

Jing Yuan isn’t surprised at Lan’s silence. Ever since they met in his mid-twenties, Lan has been secretive. Yet this nature is how they make this alliance work.

“…Do you believe me now?”

Jing Yuan was in a hospital washroom the day he had to listen to the doctors his fianceé’s family had hired to cure her. But even the best of the best had ultimately failed. Unable to keep his temper in check, he’d gone to calm himself in the washroom.

“I don’t know what kind of tricks you’re pulling," Jing Yuan said, looking from the man to the lack of reflection in the mirror. "But—“

Suddenly, he was mysteriously thrown and pinned against the washroom wall, the impact nearly knocking him unconscious. Lan slowly walked closer, but Jing Yuan couldn’t free himself from whatever force was holding him against the wall.

“There are no tricks. I assure you.”

Then, Jing Yuan falls to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. He glared at him. “…What the fuck do you want?”

Lan put a foot on top of him and forced him to the ground. “I’d start talking nicely if I were you.”

Jing Yuan’s blood ran cold as he couldn’t move anything… but his eyes.

“…What do you want with me?” he finally spat.

"I've known about The Withering for a while. I have my theories, but I need someone to be my eyes and ears.”

Jing Yuan smiled wryly. “In your fucking dre—argh!”

Eventually, Lan slightly eased the pressure on Jing Yuan’s spine. “Don't you want answers?”

“It’s not like you have them.”

“I’m closer than you will ever be.”

“Then, why do you need my help? Aren’t you a God?”

“No one can accomplish things solely on their own,” Lan said. “Unfortunately, that cliché also applies to Gods. This disease is not of this world, which is why you have no answers.” As soon as Jing Yuan could move, he immediately got to his feet. “The Withering isn’t supposed to exist. Not in this period, at least.”

“…Don’t tell me it was one of you who did this. What? Is it fun to see humans suffer?”

“…Someone’s laughing,” Lan said. “But it’s not me. If I knew, I wouldn’t be here trying to figure out who's behind this.”

Jing Yuan narrowed his eyes. Could he trust him?

“There’s a reason why The Withering is here," Lan continued. "Didn't you notice a pattern?" When Jing Yuan looked away, Lan smiled. “The Withering seems to target people from powerful and wealthy families.  You could be its next victim.” Jing Yuan stiffened. “I want to find out why it’s here and get rid of it… for good.”

“Am I supposed to trust you?”

“I don’t trust you as much as you don’t trust me. But we need each other to get what we want.”

“…As long as you don’t ask any unnecessary questions about how I do things.”

Lan scoffed. “I could care less about your family being involved in the black market. But, the same goes for you. We don’t need to ask about anything we don't need to know. How does that sound?”

“Did you forget our deal?” Lan asks.

“Forget I asked,” Jing Yuan says, waving his hand dismissively. “What's his name?”

“Caelus.”

“…I’ve heard of him.”

“Well, I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” Lan says. “His family has loose ties to yours.”

“Do they?” Jing Yuan asks nonchalantly. “I don’t keep track.” Then, more seriously, “Did you talk to him?”

“...Rather than talk, I saw it’s getting worse.”

Jing Yuan’s phone goes off, so he turns around to answer it.

“Dan Heng,” the man on the other end says. “That’s his name."

“Great.” Jing Yuan turns around but Lan is already gone. “…Now, get me a number.”

◆◆◆

The room is dimly lit as Caelus sits on his bed with his phone. He's been trying to sleep for the past few hours, but every time he closes his eyes, he sees the terrified look on the man's face. Everything happened so fast that Caelus still can't explain it.

One moment he was fine. The next, his body felt like it was on fire as a bubbling rage took his emotions by storm. He could only describe it as a craving for violence. The man had been unfortunate enough to be caught in Caelus's emotional whirlwind.

Caelus hears the door slide open, and his doctor walks in. "...How are you feeling?"

“...Fine,” Caelus says without looking at him.

His doctor walks up to his bed. “This might be a new development.” Caelus looks at him. “The Withering has never caused someone to become violent before.”

“You think it has something to do with the disease?”

“We’re looking into it. Unless there’s something you didn’t tell us.”

"No. I told you everything," Caelus answers. "I… don't know what came over me." The doctor looks at Caelus's hand. It's only been a few days, but the pigment has almost reached the bottom of his fingers. Caelus covers his hand with a bandage wrap. "Are there any answers you can give me why it's spreading so fast?"

“...We’re looking into that, too.”

Caelus glares at him. “That’s all you say. Isn’t there anything you can give me?” When the doctor's shoulders fall, Caelus looks down. “...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that.”

"...We did find something interesting. It won't help identify why this is happening, unfortunately, but it's worth noting." He sits next to Caelus. "With each victim, a new symptom appears. The first person, she became brain dead. There was a faint pigment on her skin, but it became more noticeable when the next person was infected. But he was infected in the neck. Eventually, the disease began spreading faster. And now there's you… with symptoms that are consistent with the past victims. But this time, you're experiencing violent tendencies."

“Gosh, I wonder what could be next,” Caelus mutters. “Blood from the eyes? The mouth? Are victims eventually going to turn into zombies?”

"...I understand your frustration, Caelus. But it's not just me working around the clock to help.” The doctor stands. “Get some sleep. Your friend is visiting you tomorrow.”

Caelus hears the door shut and looks out the window as a drizzle starts to fall. Lightning flashes once, and he sees a man's reflection in the window. Startled, Caelus turns around, but no one is there. He looks back, and the reflection is gone. Caelus doesn't know which he should be more afraid of. That he's becoming delusional or the man he saw looked exactly like his friend… only with horns.

◆◆◆

“Ooh, so is this what getting a buzz feels like?”

"I think you've had enough, Pom," you say, looking at your friend who's drinking happily with Nanook and Gepard.

“Aw… but—”

“You should probably listen to her, rabbit,” Nanook interrupts. “Or she’ll never stop nagging.”

“Well, this is a first,” Idrila says. “Nanook being oddly responsible.”

The God swirls the alcohol in his drink. “Isn’t the kid taking a while?”

You glance at the entrance to the restaurant. You never expect Nanook to notice that Dan Heng has been out for a while. He'd gone outside to take a call, and you'd be lying if you weren't curious about what was keeping him, too.

“I’ll go—”

You and Stelle look at each other, a slight surprise on your faces.

Nanook laughs. “Never thought the kid would be so popular.”

“Quit it,” Idrila chides.

“...I’ll go check on him,” you say, standing.

After you exit the restaurant, you walk a short distance away and hear Dan Heng’s voice.

“...Marriage?”

You stop.

“I’m not even thinking about that right now. Let alone—”

Dan Heng is facing away from you, but it’s the first time you can hear a slight distress in his tone.

“...And have you talked to Stelle about this? What does she think?” Dan Heng suddenly turns around, and his eyes widen upon seeing you. “...Okay. I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

He ends the call and slips his phone into his pocket just as you say, “You were taking a while, so I thought I’d check if everything’s okay.” You hope he doesn’t think you’d been purposely eavesdropping.

“Everything’s fine.” He walks toward you. “That was my father.”

“Ah…”

Just when you think he will drop the conversation, he says, "...You said I had a soulmate. Is it Stelle?"

You've gone down this route before of telling people who their soulmates were to make your life easier. While it worked in some cases, in others it strengthened their resolve not to get with that person, which obviously made your job a lot harder. Somehow, you feel Dan Heng will fall into the latter category.

“Why do you ask?”

Dan Heng sighs. “It’s my father. He’s been dropping hints that Stelle and I would make a good match.”

“...That’s news to me.”

“So, you haven’t been pulling strings?”

You aren't surprised he asked what he knows, but why does it annoy you?

“No,” you say firmly. “I haven’t done anything.”

“...I see.”

“Has he been pressuring you to get married?”

"No, but he has asked me if I'm thinking about settling down with someone."

“But you’re still young! You have time.”

Dan Heng steps toward you and slightly leans down. “...Mind if I ask you how old you are?”

“Take a wild guess,” you deadpan. Dan Heng tilts his head as if examining you. “...What? Do I have something on my face?”

"You look like you'd be around my age."

“...If I’m being honest, I don’t know how old I really am,” you say, looking away.

“So, you’ve looked this way for as long as you can remember,” Dan Heng says, and you slowly look at him. “...I bet a lot of people would be dying to know your skincare secrets.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I’m not sharing.”

Then, both of you crack a little smile.

"This is just a theory…" Dan Heng says, "But perhaps this was what you looked like when you started doing your job as Cupid.”

“That would make sense. I’ve only had visions of myself when I was younger… never older.”

“Then… maybe this was the age when your time also stopped.”

“...Well, I guess the question is what will it take for it to start again.”

“Again… this is just a theory”—the look in his eyes softens—“maybe it’s when you meet your soulmate.”

"...That's a nice fantasy. But, I doubt it."

"Why?"

You shrug. "I've never fallen in love. Not that I can remember, at least."

"You haven't met the right person."

"I suppose. But, love is the last thing on my mind right now. How can I love someone if I don't even know who I am?"

"Self-discovery isn't always a lonely journey. I assume you didn't start having dreams or visions about your past life without meeting certain people first."

"...Like you?"

"Like me." A corner of Dan Heng’s lips curves into a ghost of a smirk. “But if I ever see a wrinkle, I’ll let you know.”

“I’d rather you keep that to yourself,” you joke.

“For now, I’m going to treat you as if you’re the same age as me."

“Does it matter if I was older or younger?”

"Juniors typically respect their elders more. While those who are older usually give guidance to their juniors. It's Xianzhou's culture."

“Well, we may look the same age, but I’m still older than you,” you say with a teasing smile.

Dan Heng scoffs quietly. “Does this mean I should call you Sister Cupid?”

“Why does it sound like you’re going to start confessing your sins?” Then, with a small smile, you say, “But I shall listen, O’ Young One.”

“...Then, I expect a serious answer.” Dan Heng gently grabs your wrist and pulls you a little closer to him. “Is it a sin… if a human falls in love with a God?”

Seconds turn into minutes. It’s as if the world around you slowly melts away as you hold Dan Heng’s stare. “...That’s…”

“Dan Heng!” Stelle’s voice immediately makes you step away from him like a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Stells walks up and looks at you. “Both of you were taking a while.”

“She—”

“He—”

You and Dan Heng look at each other.

“...We were just talking,” Dan Heng finally says.

“Well, we’re just about ready to go,” Stelle says. She looks at you. “Pom looks like he’s going to pass out, by the way.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re playing babysitter for the night.

Once you return to the restaurant, you see Pom’s drowsy-looking face. Gepard is supporting him.

“For once, it’s not my fault,” Nanook says, slightly raising his hands as if to declare innocence.

“And for once, he’s right,” Idrila says. “He was the one who stopped Pom from completely passing out.”

“Is he going to be okay?” March asks.

“We’ll make sure he gets home safe,” Gepard says.

Dan Heng puts Pom’s other arm around him, helping Gepard support him.

“Well, this has been fun,” Nanook says, once everyone is outside of the restaurant. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

“Maybe with a little less alcohol next time,” you say.

"And more of you and the kid." He looks at Dan Heng, whose poker face doesn't change. You look from Nanook to Dan Heng and back to the God. "He pretty much kept you the entire evening."

“Well, I guess Cupid thinks he’s better company than you, Nanook.”

Nanook frowns at Idrila. “Gosh. I thought you were on my side, Idrila. But I guess I was wrong.”

Idrila loops a friendly arm around Nanook’s and winks at you. “I’ll make sure he won’t cause trouble on the way back.”

You smile at her. “I’m counting on you.”

Then, they’re off, but even a short distance away, you can still hear their bickering.

“C’mon, Stelle, we should get going, too!”

You turn and see March looking as if she’s ready to leave. But Stelle has her eyes on Dan Heng.

“Something wrong, Stelle?” Gepard asks.

“Oh, um… it’s nothing. Get home safely.”

Then, she walks away in another direction with March.

Pom groans and attempts to stand on his own. His world is spinning, all except for one person. He squints as he tries to focus on the person that seems to be getting closer… and closer.

“...Pom.”

Your voice is faint as if you're standing a distance away. When in truth, you're standing right next to him with Gepard and Dan Heng. Pom blinks once, and his eyes widen when he sees Dan Heng in front of him. Except… when did he have horns?

“...Pom!”

Pom blinks again, and he sees your face. "Cu…Cupid?" That's when he realizes you're in front of him, and Gepard and Dan Heng are standing on either side. "Wha… what happened?"

“You started walking randomly,” Gepard says. “...In the wrong direction.”

Pom turns to Dan Heng. “...You were”—Pom hiccups—”you were walking towards me.”

“...No, I wasn’t.”

You sigh. “C’mon, Pom. Let’s go home.”

“R…Right.”

By the time you and Pom get home, it’s late evening. Pom has collapsed on the couch as you walk Gepard and Dan Heng to the door.

“Thanks for helping get him back,” you say.

“Hopefully, his hangover won’t be too bad,” Gepard says.

You give your friend a small wave as he walks back to the elevator. But before Dan Heng can follow, you say his name. He turns around.

"Your question from earlier," you say. "I never heard about that happening… so I don't have an answer."

"Do you think it'd be any different than love between humans?"

"...Probably not."

Dan Heng smiles slightly. "It'd be chemistry worth exploring."

Perhaps it's the way he's looking at you that makes your face warm. Though the butterflies are short-lived when Gepard peeks around the corner and asks, "What's taking so long?"

Dan Heng gives you one last look and walks off.

You sigh softly and close the door. Why does it seem like he will be the death of you? When you head into the living room, your eyes widen when you don’t see Pom on the couch.

“Pom?” you call.

Silence.

You quickly head to his room, the washroom, and the kitchen. Eventually, you find Pom lying on your bed. You gently shake him.

“...Pom. Wake up.”

He groans, but suddenly you hear him say, "...Young…"

It's not until you see him sweating that you shake him harder. "Pom. Get up." Pom's eyes suddenly open, and your friend slowly sits up with your help. "...Are you okay? You were sweating."

"...Yeah," Pom mutters; he puts his hand on his forehead. Then, he looks around. "Wasn't… Wasn't I sleeping on the couch?"

"Yeah, you were. But, you ended up here." You sit next to him. “...You said Young's name in your sleep."

“He was here,” Pom says quietly.

You glance around. “...Here? Like… in the apartment? Are you sure it was him?”

Pom nods. “He told me his name. Everything was blurry and spinning, but I know it was our place. He was standing in the living room, and he told me something… interesting.” You wait with bated breath as Pom looks at the locket around your neck. “...He’s tied to that locket. If we can get it to open”—Pom looks at you—“it’ll set him free.”

◆◆◆

Dan Heng has just entered his room when his phone rings. He picks it up from the table and sees it's an unknown number. He ignores it, but when the calls persist, he finally picks it up.

“...Hello?”

"Dan Heng. It's nice to meet you."

The calm and masculine voice doesn't sound familiar.

"Who is this?"

Jing Yuan looks away from his open laptop. “...Someone who's on your side. We want the same thing, so let's help each other out."

"...What are you talking about?"

"A cure," Jing Yuan says sternly. "To help your friend."

Dan Heng's eyes widen. "Who are you?" 

"This conversation will be more meaningful in person. Let's meet. Shall we?"

“You’re asking me to meet when I don’t even have a name.”

"Is my name that important?"

"I'm not going to meet with someone who's going to waste my time."

"You need me more than I need you, so I suggest you start cooperating."

Dan Heng tightens his grip on his phone.

"Before Caelus, your mother was one of the victims," the man continues.

Dan Heng's blood runs cold.

"My fianceé was also one of them."

"If you truly want to help, why are you being so secretive?" Dan Heng asks. 

"Because The Withering shouldn't exist in the first place," Jing Yuan says sternly. "Trust me when I say that it puts us in danger the more people know."

"Enough with the riddles."

Jing Yuan smiles. "Fine. Answer me this, Dan Heng. Do you believe in Gods?"

Chapter 9

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel @lxry-chxn @tanspostsblog @theprinceofkhaos @nqctre @lunavixia @akwardbiscuit @klementime

[tripeportablemonitor]

Explore the finest 10.1” portable tri-screen monitors for laptops at Trio3Tech! Discover top-quality, HD monitors at the best prices. Shop now and elevate your portable display experience!

[call-me-maggie13]

It is supposed to be an easy gig. Watching an infant overnight while the mother works should be an easy job. One-year-olds are supposed to sleep through the night and Beatrice has been given explicit permission to sleep in the main room.

The baby is asleep by the time Beatrice arrives, and the young mother talks her through her expectations and warnings about the little girl. The woman is a lot younger than Beatrice had been expecting, barely appearing to break 20. Certainly too young to be solely responsible for a small child.

She has dark circles around her bright eyes and her shining smile burns a hole in Beatrice’s ribcage.

"She should stay down for the night. Everything is already set up for a bottle if she wakes up hungry, see if she’ll take a pacifier before trying to feed her because sometimes she’ll act hungry but if she doesn’t take the pacifier, she’s not. Diapers are in the green bag in her room. Here’s the monitor, she talks in her sleep so don’t worry unless she starts crying. My number is on the fridge if you need anything." The woman rambles, spinning in a circle and patting her pockets. "Where did I put my keys?"

Beatrice nods to the set of keys on the hook next to the door and the woman sighs before snatching them from the hook and grabbing the door.

Continued on AO3 or under the break.

"Am I forgetting anything?" The woman pauses, already twisting the handle to leave.

"Your name? And the baby’s?" Beatrice asks, shivering when the woman’s bubbling laugh fills the small entryway.

"I’m Ava." She extends her hand for Beatrice to shake, Beatrice tries to ignore how the contact sent a sharp shock up her arm. "My daughter is Diana, like the princess."

"Nice to meet you. I’m Beatrice, like the princess." Ava laughs again, flooding Beatrice’s chest with warmth and making her head buzz and Beatrice thinks it might be her favorite sound ever. Ava sighs before she pulls the door open.

"Call if you need anything. And I mean anything, okay?" Ava stands in the open doorway, grinning when Beatrice fakes a salute before she is gone.

Beatrice finds herself missing the woman as soon as she is gone. The tiny apartment feels too large without Ava’s voice to fill it. Instead of dwelling on the simmering feeling under her skin, Beatrice pulls her laptop from her bag and opens the document for her history essay that is due next month.

No sooner has Beatrice sat at the table when a piercing cry echoes down the hallway and rattles the baby monitor in her hand. Beatrice follows the sound into a shoebox bedroom, stopping beside the crib and lifting the screaming child into her arms. Beatrice bounces the wailing girl in her arms while she checks her diaper and searches for a pacifier, easing it between the baby’s four little teeth and wiggling until she recognized there is something in her mouth. Beatrice lets out a deep exhale when the baby quiets.

"Hi, Diana. I’m Beatrice." Beatrice shakes Diana’s little hand, smiling when little fingers squeeze around her thumb. "Are you hungry? Is that why you were upset?"

Diana blinks sleepily in Beatrice’s arms, dropping her head against Beatrice’s shoulder with a yawn. Beatrice rocks slowly, humming various lullabies until Diana is asleep again.

Beatrice smiles as she lays the little girl down slowly, resting her palm against Diana’s chest before retreating back to her homework. She tugs her textbook out of her bag and sprawls it across the table, flipping through the pages -

The baby monitor crackles under the force of Diana’s wailing, rushing Beatrice back into the tiny room and cradling the baby against her once more. Diana has abandoned the pacifier, shoving her fingers into her mouth as she cries. Beatrice pulls the hands from her face, bouncing and singing until Diana has calmed again. Diana tangles her wet hand into Beatrice’s hair, clenching her saliva-coated fist around the strands.

Beatrice checks her diaper and tries the pacifier again, thinking maybe Diana really is hungry, but Diana spits it out. So Beatrice takes a deep breath and bounces with the little girl, alternating between humming and shushing her until she quiets.

Diana tucks her head into Beatrice’s neck, the hand not in Beatrice’s hair exploring Beatrice’s face, lazily prodding her cheeks and nose and eyes until she is asleep again.

This time, Beatrice doesn’t even make it to the door before Diana is crying again, the baby pulling herself upright and reaching her fingers out to Beatrice from her crib.

"You just wanna hang out, huh?" Beatrice questions, grabbing the blanket from Diana’s crib and bundling her into it, watching as Diana tries to fight sleep until her head drops onto Beatrice’s shoulder with a soft sigh. Beatrice adjusts the blanket to block most of the light and carries Diana back to the table.

Diana settles against Beatrice’s chest easily, murmuring in her sleep as Beatrice tries to check her essay for incorrect information. It is obnoxiously difficult and uncomfortable to hold a baby and do her homework, plus Beatrice is beginning to feel the familiar itch behind her eyelids that makes her want to curl up in a tight ball and sleep.

Beatrice closes her laptop and stacks her textbook onto of it before pushing away from the table and moving to the couch.

"Just ten minutes," she tells Diana. "Ten minutes and then I’m gunna put you back down and we’re both gunna sleep, okay?"

There is soft touch on her shoulder, a gentle shake before Beatrice blinks at the early morning light.

"Hey," Ava greets softly, easing Diana out of Beatrice’s arms while Beatrice sits up and stretches, looking around confused.

"Hi. Are you early?" Beatrice’s voice cracks from disuse, her accent slurring her words together at the edges. Ava’s responding grin is crooked and toothy, and it makes Beatrice’s heart lurch and tugs her lips into a sleepy smile.

"I’m late, actually. You could’ve slept in my bed, you didn’t need to sleep on the couch."

"I didn’t mean to?" Ava giggles, rocking softly when Diana groans and shifts in her arms.

Beatrice takes the chance to look Ava over, her hair is mussed and falling out of the ponytail she has it tied back in and the dark circles around her eyes are darker than they had been before. Ava’s deep red polo is coming untucked from her pants and she smells vaguely of sweat and wood shavings.

"Have you eaten? I can make breakfast before you go."

It is a pleasant offer and the idea of getting to know Ava better makes her fingers tingle.

"You should probably shower," Beatrice answers as Diana lifts her head sleepily from Ava’s shoulder. "I can make breakfast and watch her while you do?"

Ava hesitates, accepting the sloppy kiss Diana plants on her cheek before glancing between them.

"Are you sure? I can’t afford - "

"No extra charge. I’m going to eat your food, Ava." Ava bites the inside of her lip and frowns, waiting until Beatrice smiles and assures her again before moving.

Ava nods and kisses Diana’s head again before passing her to Beatrice.

"Thank you." When Beatrice goes to respond, she could swear there are tears in Ava’s eyes when she turns away. Beatrice waits until the bedroom door has clicked closed before moving to the kitchen and digging through the cabinets for pancake ingredients, talking with Diana. She hands Diana the spatula and watches her waving it back and forth, giggling before Beatrice lowers her to the ground at her feet. Diana bounces and crawls from Beatrice’s feet to the opposite end of the kitchen, yanking on a cabinet in an attempt to open it before grunting in frustration.

Diana slaps the spatula against the cabinet door before toppling over, Beatrice freezing and waiting for her to cry. Diana giggles maniacally and slaps the spatula repeatedly, testing the various sounds she can force from the cabinet door and linoleum floor. Beatrice watches her while she makes the pancakes, smiling encouragingly every time Diana hits something then look at her.

"She loves making music."

Beatrice jumps at Ava’s voice, spinning around so quickly she flings pancake mix onto Ava’s cheek.

"Oh my god, I’m so sorry!" Beatrice grabbing the rag from the sink and wiping the batter from Ava’s face without thinking. Ava’s breath warms her fingers and her bright brown eyes meet Beatrice’s. Beatrice has to remind herself to breathe, holding Ava’s face between her hands and forcing herself to focus solely on removing the batter on Ava’s cheek. But Beatrice can’t help but be distracted by how supple Ava’s skin is under her fingers.

She wonders if Ava’s shoulders were as soft as her cheeks, if she has freckles on her back that match the ones on her nose, if her lips feel as soft as they look, and - oh no, Beatrice needs to get ahold of herself.

Luckily, Diana decides they have been still too long and throttles into their legs with a shriek. Beatrice steps back, only noticing how close they had been by the sudden absence. Ava drops to a knee and speaks softly with Diana while Beatrice turns back to the pancakes.

The quiet is simultaneously smothering and comforting, Diana’s music-making intermittently interrupting. Beatrice can feel Ava watching her, knows if she turns their eyes would meet.

Beatrice forces all her attention onto the pancakes. Pancakes, which she has been making since she was eleven-years-old. Watching them, like she expects them to do a somersault.

She spends the next half hour trying to slow her hummingbird heart around Ava before tragically extricating herself to leave for her classes.

As she gets into her car, she can’t help but hope Ava liked her enough that she asks her to take over regularly.

[cleomigadon]

LAWMANE FIC:

Just posted my fanfic, "Primary Instinct," on A03. This story has been sitting on my laptop for six months, and I finally had the time to proofread the first four chapters. The 5th chapter still needs some grammar care, but it's on the way. I have no beta reader yet.

Summary:

"Have I told you about how humans and birds fall in love when they share the same cage?"

Ryuzaki groaned. "Enough with the bird analogy, Watari," he scolded. He quickly shut the monitor. One glance at his reflection in the metallic floor told L all he needed to know. The gaunt face stared back at him with the same look of mild distaste that had been there since his childhood.

Due to her tendency to openly display her emotions, she became an easy target. Despite this, L began to see this trait as charming and captivating as time passed. Alas, it continued to worsen, and the situation deteriorated progressively. Misa embodied the untamed energy of a fireball he could never control. Dealing with mentally challenging puzzles had become his everyday routine. This was completely different. There is no puzzle he could ever complete, no case to solve that would offer the clarity and satisfaction being with her does. And he knew… yes, he understood he would be the one to mess it all up if she ever let him. If he had no choice but to fall, he would fall head-first and make it worthwhile. That's the reality when you reach rock bottom as someone unfamiliar with hunger.

Snippets:

What a cruel, unfair world... and Misa could do nothing but bow and hide her contempt. In her mind's eye, she was picturing Ryuzaki, his thick, raven hair framing his sharp face with that void of a leer and surprisingly beautiful lips curling into a sardonic smile. And in the fantasy of her mind, she slapped that face with all her hatred, causing his head to snap aside, wiping away that knowing grin.

***

Watari showed his disagreement through a head shake. "By no means. You lack awareness of this tool's immense power and lethal nature."

L gazed at his hands for an extended period before redirecting his attention to him. "Any ideas on how to stop it?"

Watari paused and looked thoughtful. "You can't stop it. It cannot be reasoned with; once it takes hold, it cannot be suppressed or eradicated. You either embrace it or be crushed by it."

L knew the older man was speaking the truth. "So, what's your advice, Watari?"

"You can either continue to deny its existence, which could be dangerous," Watari replied, "or you can explore these emotions and learn to use them to your advantage instead of letting them rule your decisions."

[shiveringgroovy]

PART 3 HC ASKS

WHAT KIND OF COMPUTER DOES EVERYONE USE ipads/tablets are allowed im extending this to like phones and stuff i've just decided

errrm HEHEHE !! gonna do my favs for this :3

Sheogorath

not a big computer guy. probably has a fuckass nokia phone and has hit computers with golf clubs before.

haskill gives him a tablet to watch shitty youtube videos on

i know he fucks with really bad yt shorts

probably invented them tbh

Atsushi

has a phone and that's about it

uses agency computers for work and kinda hates operating them (they also kinda suck so yk)

Sotha Sil

INSANELY FAST RUNNING SETUP

like 500 monitors and LEDs and a see-through tower and a fucking gaming chair

blender king

probably built it all himself

he's insane

the electric bill is through the roof.

Fyodor (i actually despise him but it's funny)

so he canonically has the worst most diabolical evil fucked up setup known to MAN please get him to touch some grass i'm begging you

freaky ass medieval peasant that introduced HIMSELF to goreshit

discord is running somewhere there. trust me

Relmyna Verenim (did you guys know i like her)

also has multiple monitors, not as many as sil but yk

probably runs like super slow and she has to resist the urge to snap her monitors in half every time she tries to open up any program

minecraft girlie (i also hc her as trans she's very loser scientist transfem coded)

she spends most of her time in the field but she likes her computers to write down her stuff

Yosano

has a tablet and a phone

uses them sparingly, but talks to ranpo a lot over texts

Vivec

has the newest phone models. always buys them instantly.

they're a prick

probably has a fucking typewriter rather than a computer because he's pretentious

Ranpo

has a tablet and a phone, uses them much more often than yosano

he seems like he prefers to read on screens than books imo

it also makes more sense, he doesn't like carrying a bunch of stuff around so having a tablet would be convenient

will text people while sitting directly across from them

Dagoth Ur/Voryn Dagoth

has a flip phone and that's it

Jouno

bc he's blind, he's not a fan of technology all that much, but uses screen readers and speaks to type.

more of a phone guy!!

has cut a laptop in half before

Nerevar

doesn't believe in computers

Kenji

also doesn't believe in computers

Lucien Lachance

owns a laptop but never uses it

written mail type of guy

Q/Yumeno

would go apeshit on a tablet.

probably a really big art fan, so really uses them for drawing and games and stuff

someone introduce this kid to a pc with a drawing pad

also loves music, would be the only normal technology user on this list istg

Haskill

owns something for every situation

nothing too fancy tbh

has a home pc, a laptop, a phone, and a tablet

uses them all for his job and has them all labelled and everything

has games on his phone for sheogorath

Ivan Goncharov

it's cause you're always on that damn rock

hates typing with every fiber of his being

smashes shit. has absolutely crushed pushkin's phone before and pushkin almost shot him

uses laptops and pcs out of necessity, uses walkie-talkies for communications because he just likes them

Ocheeva

biggest spreadsheet fan of all time

has a laptop that flips into a tablet

she loves organizing things and presenting them to the rest of the dark brotherhood

they don't listen to the immense power of a girl with a spreadsheet. like fools.

Bram

mp3 player or a phone just for music purposes

pays for every music subscription known to man

last.fm ass bitch

[chiskz]

《 𝐓𝐢𝐤𝐓𝐨𝐤 𝐅𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 - "𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞" 》

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨: fragment from Your Friendly Neighbor Chichi!

"what's your love language? love language? love language... you know what, let's do a quiz, hm?let's do a quiz because I honestly don't know... it seems to me that if I love someone... I love them on every field?"

♡ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

⭛ YFNChichi episode: "Our last show... apparently you guys enjoyed it. *laughs* yeah, my boys did a good job... Changbin... Changbin-hyung. He was amazing. His outfit was perfect! I even told it to stylist! It was great..."

⭛ YFNChichi episode: *listens to Doodle, staring at the monitor screen like there's a music video and it's just Spotify* "I still can't get over how good this song is. I listen to it every day, and I listened to it even before its official release! I don't think I'll ever get tired of it... Changbin-hyung always does a good job."

⭛ SKZ-TALKER episode: Changbin sings to warm up his voice while laughing. Chichi sits on the couch pretending the air conditioning remote is a lightstick and waves it laughing.

"Changbin-hyung, I'm your biggest fan! How do you manage to sing so well? Chang-bin-hyung! Chang-bin-hyung!" [ Editors Note: The new biggest STAY has joined the game ? ]

Changbin looks at her and extends his hand theatrically towards her, singing in an even higher note.

♡ 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞

⭛ SKZ-TALKER episode: Han, Minho and Hyunjin talk to the camera. In the background, Chichi opens a plastic container of food, inserts a drinking straw, and opens a package of chopsticks before handing it all to Changbin, who was doing something on his laptop with headphones and didn't even notice that the food had already arrived.

⭛ a little compilation of small gestures during vlogs: Chichi gives Changbin what he wanted to reach for /// Chichi gets up to give him a seat on the couch, which of course he won't let her /// at the hotel, Chichi packs Changbin's suitcase on the day they were due to return to Korea from Japan

♡ 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬

⭛ a compilation of photos of Changbin wearing/using items from Chichi (officially known to be from her)

louis vuitton leather bracelet /// protein shake bottle /// dolce & gabbana jumper /// balenciaga gym bag

♡ 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

⭛ a short montage showing how often Changbin and Chichi are together: vlog together in Kawasaki /// going out to a restaurants often /// being very often next to each other on the backstage /// a lot of their rap parts in SKZ songs are "ping-pong" like (alternating rap)

♡ 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

⭛ SKZ-TALKER episode: Han and Jeongin are recorded talking to each other. Changbin is getting makeup done in the background as Chichi leans against the dressing table, staring at him. She reaches out a hand and gently strokes his hair with a tender smile. Changbin smiles shyly, trying not to look at her so as not to hinder the make-up artist's work.

⭛ Changbin and Chichi are sitting next to each other during an interview. It wasn't until the members in front of them stood up that it became apparent that Changbin had his hand on her lap the whole time, and she had hers on his hand.

⭛ In one of the vlives, Changbin and Chichi are half-sitting on the couch in the background, hugging each other with their legs intertwined.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 8 - masturbation

stray kids 1.3k words gender neutral reader insert Reader x Han Jisung NSFW

🖤 warnings: d/s dynamics, one very desperate handy, a tiny hint of public exhibition?? 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

"I'm busy!"

Your words are hissed, one hand slapped over your laptop's tiny built-in camera and the other fiddling desperately for the button on your digital meeting controls that'll mute you and turn off your face cam. The two seconds that it takes to remove yourself politely from the view and auditory space of the rest of your team is two seconds too long, in this case.

"Sorry," Jisung apologizes blithely.

He's not sorry, you can see that in his shitty little grin, the way he's holding his tongue coyly between his teeth.

"You are going to get me fucking fired, and then sued, and then arrested!" you scold, still in that low urgent tone.

"It's not my fault that you're ignoring me."

You gape at him. "I'm at work. I'm in a meeting!"

"Again, not my fault."

Whoever invented work from home obviously didn't have someone like Jisung in their life.

Impatient, insatiable, and shameless to the extreme. He's naked, bare-ass nude in the middle of your sunlit home office (the second of the two little bedrooms in your overly-expensive two bedroom unit), and worse than that, he's hard. Full boner, just standing there, hands on his hips.

This isn't a wandered-in-by-accident-after-a-shower type of thing, the kind of thing that would be a quick apology and maybe a joke in the office, later on. This is calculated. Jisung walked right in during your meeting, and even if it was just for one literal, singular second before you could react, your boss, your team, and whoever else monitors these meetings saw it all.

Working from home means you're usually able to sneak away and play when the mood strikes either of you, but that's because your work is all digital except for the occasional meeting, like this one. Any normal person would just fucking wait.

"Ji, I can't believe you," you storm.

"I need you," he whines.

"After my meeting, we can do whatever you want."

"But I want it now."

He's unbelievable.

He's also a grown man. He knows how to control himself, knows very well that he could just text you to come when you have a minute to mess around. Or, like, knock on the door. This is a game of some kind, to him, and there's absolutely no way you're letting him win.

"I'm gonna turn my camera back on," you warn him.

"Do it."

"You really want everyone to see how much you think with your dick?" you ask dubiously. "I mean, you should see what you look like. Ridiculous. Just walking in like this, like some kind of-"

"Hey," he protests.

You're sure that he wasn't expecting dismissal, but that's what he's going to get.

"If you're so desperate to cum, you can go ahead," you tell him.

"But I wanted-"

"The chairs over there are off camera. Sit on down."

Two spare chairs for the extendable dining table set you keep in your scant living space also take up residence in this room, and they sit over in the opposite corner, safely away from the scope of your webcam. But that also means they're pretty far away from you.

"I wanted you to-"

"That's not gonna happen right now," you tell him flatly. "I'm busy. If you don't want to wait to get off, you can do it yourself."

Absolutely no way he's getting a hand, as it were, after a stunt like that.

Jisung pouts at you, but he does go and take an uncomfortable seat on the edge of the wooden dining chair. "This is bullshit."

"I'm sorry, who burst in on whom with their dick out?" you ask.

"I just-"

"I'm turning the call back on. You'd better get going," you say, "And hey, if you manage to cum once before I'm done, without ruining the call, then I'll help on the second one."

Framed that way, like a challenge with a good prize, you know he won't be able to resist.

And you're right. As soon as you turn your camera back on and give your coworkers a fake sheepish apology for your hasty retreat. They don't say anything about it, and you figure you're in the clear, as far as firing and suing are concerned. Over the screen of your laptop, you meet Jisung's eye to give him an encouraging nod and a mean grin.

He'd better get on with it.

Jisung's cheeks are already tinged pink with (admittedly delayed) self-consciousness as he wraps a hand around his hard cock, shuddering silently. That first touch is enough to make his whole body relax into the chair, sitting haphazardly, legs falling farther apart and posture slumping against the wood.

It's probably obvious to your coworkers that you're looking over the top of your camera, rather than down at your screen or politely into the lens, but you don't care. You're not about to take your eyes off him.

The pace he's set on himself is brutally fast, but you know that he usually takes more attention than that to reach his peak, and you don't know if he's going to make it in time, poor thing. His eyes are screwed shut, focusing on the pleasure...

But you're not above playing dirty.

A glance down at your screen, you say, almost bark, "Hey?"

Jisung's eyes snap open as your boss responds in the affirmative, and you glance back at your boy for a second before you grin into the camera again.

"Did we cover that quarterly report last week, or the week before?" you ask, all innocence.

"Last week, thanks for the clarification-"

You only wanted to break Jisung's stride, and he full well knows it, if the glare he throws you means anything. He's panting, now, and you can hear traces of the whines he's holding back. Not about to make a scene where people can hear? After that grand entrance?

"Are there any other questions?" your boss asks.

A telltale question that indicates the meeting is almost over. You hadn't anticipated it being finished so soon, but it's a delightful twist. Jisung's eyes widen. He knows time isn't on his side. If he wants to win the game you set out, he's going to have to speed things up.

It must hurt, you think, pitying, as Jisung works that hand over his cock at a breakneck pace, slicking his own precome over himself. The other hand tweaks his nipple, crawls over his torso, like he's trying to simulate the way you would play with him, the unexpected bits that you would bring to the equation. It's not the same, though, because with his own hands, he knows exactly what's coming, and the adrenaline that would usually help him right through to the end just isn't there...

"No," you say, joining a chorus of your coworkers who also have nothing else to add.

Jisung keens, audible probably even to your microphone. He's going to lose, and you can see by the swell, by the reddening, by the way he's squirming in his chair, that he's close, but not close enough-

You could throw him a bone, if you wanted.

"Oh!" you say, "Just - next week's meeting is at the same time, yes?"

"I think so," your boss murmurs, "Let me check..."

You can Jisung's desperation, as he ruts into his hand, making the tiniest whines that would be full moans if you weren't on a call, and the fact that he's probably not going to make it is all that much sweeter.

"Yes," your boss confirms.

"Thank you."

"Then we'll wrap it up. See you then!"

Your boss pings off the call, and you hang up, standing leisurely.

"Oh, baby," you coo.

Jisung is nothing if not predictable. He's got himself so strung out, there's no way he could cum without help.

Or so you think, until you're there in front of him, arms crossed, an expression of schooled disappointment on your face. As soon as you're close like that, within reach but doing nothing to help him, that's when Jisung finally moans, full-throated and needy, and cums over his fingers.

"Impressive," you say, taking in his heaving chest, his pink face and blown-out eyes. "But you didn't make it in time. Which means if you wanna cum again, you have to do it yourself. Then we'll see about some help."