#now everyone’s finished their studies. people are drinking more and i can’t think of eating the way i do at uni right now (hardly at all)

[embossross]

From His Mind to Yours

Chapter 5 >> Chapter 6 >> masterlist

✣ Pairing: Hanma x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+, minors DNI; unhealthy relationships & dark content

✣ Chapter CW: Exhibitionism (Hanma), Voyeurism (reader), oral (m receiving – not with reader), conversations about drugs (meth)

✣ Story CWs: patient/doctor relationships; smut (oral, ptv, pta, etc.), degradation, stalking, torture (not of y/n), murder, discussions of trauma and abuse, drug use, and more

✣ Synopsis: Forced into therapy, Hanma expects to waste his time and yours, but you’re not about to let the chance of a high-profile and higher paying patient slip through your grasp. The fact that you’re both attracted to each other doesn’t hurt either.

✣ Word Count: 7.5k+

Diners line up outside the door of the ikazya, only to be turned away. You were lucky to secure a low table for two with tatami mat seating. On a Tuesday at seven in the evening, the bar hums with office workers sharing an obligatory after-work drink. The dim lights force a strange kind of intimacy among colleagues that could not survive under the artificial LED lights of the office. You hoped some of that intimacy would possess you and your companion, but you are disappointed.

Half-empty dishes of gomae-ae, kushiyaki, and hiyyayako litter the table. Sake and beer sweat through glass cups to leave wet rings on the wood. There is a bunched-up napkin from where you spilled soy sauce earlier.

The meal is ending, but you have yet to bridge any of the distance between you and your companion: Miyasato Rie.

A senior of just one year at university, Miyasato has existed at the periphery of your existence for over a decade. In school, your classmates considered her a conscientious senior if a little disingenuous. She purposefully sought out all the first-year psych students, offering study tips, the best spots for a cheap beer, a sympathetic ear for the homesick. She helped you find your first apartment. With her advice, you survived the first few years of university. You are pretty sure she detests you.

“You didn’t finish your dinner,” Miyasato chastises, gesturing at the dishes you picked at earlier.

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” you say.

“Hmm, I suppose that was always true. Remember in school? You would never accept invitations to go out with everyone to dinner,” Miyasato says.

“I couldn’t afford it,” you say.

It was true then, when every yen you earned was shuffled straight into tuition or rent payments. With a full bank account, it’s no excuse now. You lost your appetite ten days ago along with your dignity in the back of a town car. You can’t eat. Coffee and chocolate parfaits are all you can manage. Like your stomach will only accept the very sweet or the very bitter.

“Well, I was surprised when you called me, but we should do this more often. We live so near each other, and it’s lovely to talk to another therapist. My husband tries, but he just can’t understand what it’s like to listen to patients’ problems all day! I don’t want to come home and listen to his next,” Miyasato laughs.

Angular cheekbones and premature sunspots age Miyasato by at least ten years, and you think the lovely young woman who would bully you into attending social get-togethers is gone. You feel sorry for forcing your company on an old acquaintance, not sure what you hoped to get out of this encounter.

Following your brush with death, the emptiness in your life echoes. The unlived in apartment, the cold office, the uncelebrated weekends. You want to regain some connection with the outside world. During university, at Miyasato’s prodding, you were almost a person in the world with acquaintances that bordered on friends.

Now, when you reflect on your life, you feel like you are at an airport, helpless as everyone whisks by you on a moving walkway. No matter how you hurry to catch up and join them, they glide further out of reach. Some people were born on the moving walkway, but you were born on the cold, hard ground. No father, a mother who refused to love you, no money to survive. How could you hope to ever join the moving walkway and its inhabitants, loved from the moment they were born?

The bill paid, you exit onto a quiet street. The red paper lantern above the shop casts Miyasato in a flushed glow.

“Remember what I told you,” Miyasato says. “About Dr. Kasai. If he doesn’t immediately have any openings, tell him that it’s at my referral. He’ll definitely book you then.”

Dinner was not a complete failure, and you thank Miyasato sincerely for sharing Dr. Kasai’s contact info. He is a therapist specializing in the treatment of other therapists. With no appetite and insomnia that stretches the night into little eternities, you recognize that you need help.

A car door slams, loud enough on the quiet street that you glance up and freeze. There is Hanma. You look away and back, but he is still there, looking at you. No illusion. No coincidence.

You make your excuses to Miyasato, who blinks in offense at the abrupt dismissal before heading in the direction of the subway station. Then, you hurry across the street to where Hanma waits for you.

He is dressed down for the heat in a white t-shirt that highlights the easy flex of his arm muscles and black jeans. The tail of a tattoo peaks from the collar, curling at the base of his throat. He isn’t wearing glasses either, and you wonder whether he is currently blind or wearing contacts that so eerily resemble his own natural shade. One side of his lip is red, too full, a little bruised.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” you demand.

“You cancelled our appointment,” Hanma says, eyes trailing your figure. Dressed up in a little black dress that ends a few scant centimeters above your knees, you are exposed.

“I did,” you agree.

Hanma sighs. “Look, I wanted to give you something.”

His head and torso disappear into the backseat of his car, and then he returns with a bouquet of flowers tucked into a tall porcelain vase painted with red and gold flowers. Your face must show your skepticism because Hanma forcefully places the offering between your palms. It is heavy.

You aren’t well-versed in flowers or their meanings, preferring to grow herbs and vegetables on your balcony garden, but you can pick out several in the overflowing bouquet. There are sprigs of deep purple lavender, blushing hydrangeas, and most of all, there are rich blue morning glories that look clipped straight from the garden.

“You got me flowers?”

“I’ve been taking the lithium as prescribed for eight days now, and I’ve been filling out your little app, and I’ve even made plans with Hakkai for later this week,” Hanma says.

“So, what is this supposed to be? An apology? A peace offering?” Your nose grazes a petal, seeking a sniff of morning glory, but you rear back at the feeling of plastic. “These are fake. They aren’t even real?”

“Exactly. They’ll last longer,” Hanma says.

The dead thing – no, not dead, because dead implies they were ever alive – weighs heavily in your hands. You don’t trust Hanma’s act of contrition. Every piece of this act is calculated to some purpose, most likely to convince you to resume your sessions.

When you reach for a kernel of the rage that drove you before, you can’t find the spark of it. All your anger towards Hanma was used up when you fucked him like a thing possessed, lapping at his blood like milk. You thought of him in the days since, wondered at your next step, but mostly you moped about your unfulfilled life, not much energy spared for Hanma’s place in it.

“This is not appropriate. I cancelled our session for a reason. Now, please call my office during business hours, and my receptionist will help you reschedule,” you say.

“But we’re both here now,” Hanma says, and he smiles in a way that is likely meant to charm, but only makes your stomach twist. You remember he smiled when he pulled the trigger, too.

“I cancelled because I have plans, Hanma-san. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

You move to step off the sidewalk and cross the street, but a bike hurtles past and stops your progress. That one moment of pause is enough for Hanma to try again.

“What plans do you have now?” Hanma argues. “Your only plan was to get dinner with your friend. If you leave now, you’ll have hours with nothing to do but sit in your empty apartment and wait for the sun to rise. Why not come with me instead? At least that way you won’t be lonely.”

There are no pedestrians on the secluded street, but you can hear the low rumble of conversation and laughter slipping through the cracked door of the bar. You live on the tenth floor of your apartment building. The only sounds that reach you there are car horns, sirens, and the roar of an airplane drifting overhead.

You know that you and Hanma are not alike. Not really. The differences stack up like used plates at a sushi bar. He is mercurial, dangerous, uncaring. He feels strongly and acts just as strongly in turn. But, beneath those differences lies a camaraderie, a shared emptiness. You are both life’s window shoppers, looking in through dirty glass at the lives you can’t afford to lead.

Nothing waits for you at home.

“Besides, I have questions about the lithium. Surely, you don’t want me to get lithium toxicity. It sounds dangerous,” Hanma goads.

“You want to discuss your medication?” you say slowly.

Hanma bends at the waist until his face is level with yours. “Yes.”

“I suppose I could accommodate you this once.” Seeing Hanma’s smile tilt too close to satisfaction, you rush to add. “But you’ll need to pay me double for this session. Out of your pocket, not Kisaki-san’s, as it’s your fault I cancelled the session.”

Hanma thumbs a stack of bills, so crisp and pretty you salivate, from his wallet. “This should do it.”

“And I have conditions,” you add, though you wait to pocket the money before continuing. “First, you will never again so much as indicate, no insinuate, that you have a gun while you are with me. If I see it, we’re done. If you gesture to it, we’re done. And I mean completely. Failure to meet these conditions, and I will call Kisaki-san myself to terminate our arrangement for good.”

“A gun? How would I even get a gun in Japan?” Hanma jokes, a tacit acceptance.

“Second, I have a safe word. And get that look off your face. A safe word for our sessions. If I say…Anpanman the session is immediately over. No discussion, no debate. You leave, and I call you to reschedule not the other way around.” You wait for Hanma’s solemn nod before continuing. “Third, no following me around like a stalker. I don’t know how you knew I’d be here today, but that’s the last of it. We meet at my office or a previously agreed upon spot. No finding me on the streets like a creep.”

“It’s really just a coincidence,” Hanma argues.

You shift the vase onto your hip so that you can point a finger at him. “And finally, and most importantly, you do not touch me.”

“Without your permission, yeah, yeah.”

“No. You do not touch me. Period. Ever. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” Hanma agrees.

He opens the passenger door with a chivalrous flourish, and you worry that he accepted your deal far too easily. Today he drives neither the Bentley from Hell or the town car from Hell…and actually, why do you keep getting in cars with this man when nothing good ever seems to come from it? You wonder if he isn’t running a chop shop with the number of vehicles he flaunts.

Hand on the top of the door, you pause. “Wait. Are you wearing contacts? Or are you blind right now?”

Hanma smiles widely. “Just get in the car, Doc.”

Against your better judgment, you do.

--

There are two Tokyos. During the day, one hides beneath the other, but at night they converge. The intersection where Hanma belongs squarely to the seedy underbelly when the sun goes down, the Tokyo of nightmares. Touts throng among the crowd, waving flyers and promises of pussy. Every face is underlit in neon, a sinister glow to their features.

Hanma leads you towards a storefront with blacked out windows. Hanging on each is a poster of women in bathing suits, posing with their tongues out or eyes crossed. This is the pleasure district.

“Absolutely not,” you say, stalling to a halt outside the entrance. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I refuse.”

“Oh, come on, Doc. I don’t mean anything by it. I just have business with the owner. We will be in and out,” Hanma says.

“In and out,” you warn.

Hanma slips away to speak to the owner, leaving you seated at the bar. You have never been in a strip club before, and the interior provides a feast for your eyes. Arranged in the western style, there is a single stage at the center of the room and table seating for patrons around it. The only other place to sit is the bar, where rows of liquor hang in glass cabinets. Panels of mirrors surround the stage, so that as a woman toys with the hem of her slip, drawing the fabric higher and higher, the mirror reflects her image out in every direction.

You should have refused Hanma at the door. Already, you are slipping back into the pattern of conceding too much to this man. Despite his claim that he needs therapy today, you barely spoke on the car ride over, merely discussing his recently improved sleeping schedule. Now, he has left you to fend for yourself at a strip club.

The woman on stage shimmies out of her slip entirely, revealing a lithe body and two impossibly large breasts. You don’t consider yourself a prude, but you find yourself staring hard at the bar, anything to avoid looking at her bullseye-shaped nipples.

A shadow appears at your side, tall and lean. You glance up expecting Hanma, but this is a stranger. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and towering over you at well over 180 centimeters, he looks like a model. How else to explain the hair-dyed violet?

“Can I buy you a drink?” the man asks. There is a special mortification in being propositioned at a titty bar.

“I can’t. I’m working,” you say, and then cringe when you realize what that implies. “I mean, I don’t work here…I’m a…never mind. I just can’t drink right now.”

The stranger motions to the bartender, who drops the customer he is actively serving to hurry over.

“A bottle of water for the lady,” he orders.

The gesture of respect is ingratiating enough that you shift on your bar stool to open up your space a bit. He slots into the opening without hesitation. It is the subtle language of flirtation, and you can tell he is fluent.

“I saw you come in with a man. Who would leave a woman like you all alone in a place like this?”

“An asshole,” you mutter under your breath, and then louder for this man’s benefit. “We’re not together, and we’re not staying. He has business with someone here. He’s going to be in and out.”

“What kind of business would a respectable man have at a strip club?” he laughs.

You shrug. The intricacies of Hanma’s work are interesting, but you make it a point to know as little as possible about the incriminating details.

“Is this your first time here? You seem…uncomfortable,” the man says.

“You can tell?” you ask dryly. Your fingers dance up and down the side of the water bottle, painting patterns in the condensation. “This isn’t much of a place for a woman. I feel sorry for the girls who work here.”

The man turns around, so that his elbows lean against the bar and casts a surveying eye around the club and the stage where a woman is now griding her panty-covered crotch into the hardwood. Sweat and glitter cover her body in a filthy sheen. Her eyes are closed, and you can only imagine what she thinks in moments like this.

“It’s true that many of the women here are exploited. But there’s something raw, something free about their work, isn’t there? To strip away all of society’s pretenses and reveal the base animal underneath? She knows the truth about men, about people after working here. She knows who the devoted family man truly is, who the buttoned-up businessman hides beneath his tie. And that knowledge equals a kind of freedom, a kind of power. It’s up to her how she wants to use it. That’s freedom.”

“Maybe for some women, but not for me,” you say coldly. This stranger is a honeyed devil in your ear, promising that at the other end of abandoning self-control and dignity lies paradise. It is a convenient myth, and he makes it sound dangerously convincing.

He smiles at you, eyes hooded and attentive, no different than when he trained on the stripper’s naked body, but then he nods. “Well, it was nice to meet you. Maybe you’ll let me buy you a drink next time.”

The man leaves, and you watch him walk right through the front door and out of sight. Very charming, you think, but off somehow. He reminds you of someone, but you can’t quite place it.

No one else approaches you in the five minutes you wait for Hanma to conclude his business. You polish off the water bottle in four, grateful to the stranger as you gulp down the final drops.

When Hanma returns, he doesn’t even meet you at the bar, beckoning with his head for you to join him at a table near the stage. The silent nod, disrespectful, arrogant, sets your teeth on edge. He is so confident that you will participate in your own shame, let him make a mockery of your work, that you won’t ever pull the trigger on him, the way he will on you. You don’ want to go home to your apartment, but you know you can’t stay here any longer.

“This is not in and out, Hanma-san,” you say through gritted teeth as you approach him.

“The owner is getting something for me,” Hanma says. “We just have to wait. Sit down and enjoy the show.”

A new woman saunters on stage to jeers of appreciation from the crowd. Hanma grins wickedly at her legs as they strut by.

“Anpanman,” you blurt out.

The club doesn’t quiet at your invocation of your safe word, but the turmoil in your chest does. You have the power to set your own boundaries. Like a child, Hanma may hurtle himself bodily at each one to test for weakness, but you can reinforce yourself like a castle and stay tall.

“Fair enough,” Hanma says, and the easy submission sends your mind reeling. You thought he would kick and scream and break your conditions. “Do you want a ride home? Or can you make it to the subway alright?”

“I can make it to the station,” you say slowly.

“Alright, I’ll wait for your call to reschedule,” Hanma says.

Already, his eyes return to the dancer on stage. Without his glasses, his scrutinous eyes are twice as intense. You can see the stage reflected in the black pupils; there is no reflection of your own face.

“Why…why do you want to stay so badly?”

“Like I said, I have to wait for the owner. Plus, believe it or not, but this place serves good food. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

Once you watched a documentary that compared pre-modern and modern hunting styles. The trick of trap hunting, it explained, is to camouflage the trap so well that the animal stumbles straight into its death with a smile. Your stomach rumbles from days of fasting. You see the trap, yet you still edge closer.

“I’ll stay but only if we sit over there,” you say, gesturing to the empty table furthest from the stage and its performer. “You need to face away from the stage, too…and you’re buying dinner.”

Hanma snorts, genuinely snorts, a puff of sound from his chest expelled from his nose and says, “Have you considered a career change, Doc? Because you would make a hell of a negotiator. I’ll even put in a good word for you.”

“You can’t afford me,” you sniff.

Stuffed into the corner, you can almost pretend you aren’t at a strip club. The flashing lights are no different than any club you would find in Roppongi, and if you fix your neck in place and focus on Hanma, you can’t see the stage. The music breaks your immersion somewhat, a low, griding bass that settles in your stomach, but the little table where you sit is innocuous.

Hanma orders a plate of chicken wings to share, a beer, and steamed vegetables. He is right that the food here is delicious. Fried and greasy, so that flavor drips onto your tongue. Your hunger must finally be getting the better of you because you find it simple to eat your half of the wings.

“So, you said you wanted to discuss how you’re feeling on lithium,” you prompt as you pick a piece of meat from bone.

“Yeah, or rather, how I don’t feel on lithium.”

“Is it numbing you out?” you ask.

“No, I don’t feel any difference. It’s like you gave me sugar pills or something. I’m going to the damn lab and getting stuck like a pig for bloodwork, and all the while, I don’t feel a damn change,” Hanma says.

“I know you’re used to popping a pill and feeling the effects within the hour, but lithium isn’t like that,” you say. “It takes a month for it to take effect for most people. We want to monitor in the meantime because the difference in dosage between what’s prescribed and lithium toxicity is so narrow, but I don’t expect you to have any real benefits to report for a few weeks yet.”

“And when it does kick in, what should I expect? Because I read through the side effects, and they’re a doozy, Doc. These things better make my dick rock hard and help me grow wings, or I’m going to be disappointed,” Hanma says.

There is a spot of sauce staining his upper lip, which he seems unaware of. He chews on without a care, smearing it further with each bite. You wonder if you should tell him. Decide it’s not your place. Discretely, you wipe your own lips with a napkin.

“The point is to moderate the wild swings up and down that you have in any given day. I looked at your log, and you are all over the place. My hope is that they will help you achieve a more manageable average. Most people remain at a steady baseline from day to day without all these big variations.”

You assigned Hanma the daily log before he threatened both your lives, so you had not expected him to actually follow through. For the past ten days, however, he has steadily logged his moods with little notes to indicate the source of the shift. Favorites include an eight on Friday with the note, ‘pussy,’ and a ten on Sunday with the note, ‘good pussy.’ Other sources that trigger a high or manic episode appear to be hearing a song he likes on the radio, seeing a middle schooler trip on a curb and eat asphalt, and evading a speeding ticket. There are just as many dramatic valleys in his log. Causes range from something as simple as running out of beer or missing a boxing match on TV. What concerns you is how often a peak of ten is followed mere hours later by a craterous one.

“Most people, huh? In my line of work, you don’t see a lot of steady. We must have gathered up all the neurotics in Tokyo,” Hanma says. “What about you though, Doc? Are you most people here?”

“I would say so. I spend most of my day at a steady five with some minor dips up to a six or down to a four. Unless there’s a big exception, I’m not going to leave that zone,” you explain.

A half lie hides in your answer. If you were honest, your baseline dropped to a four recently with a mere papercut pushing you down to a three. Good exceptions are few and far between to the point that you can’t quite remember the last time you were as happy as a six.

Time with Hanma breaks the scale entirely. You can’t say that you are happy or enjoying yourself in his company, but neither can you say that you sustain a bland four like you do throughout the rest of your day. You find your time with him exists in a completely different universe, one with reverse gravity where up is down and north is south.

“Sounds pretty fucking miserable if you ask me,” Hanma says. “Yeah, I sometimes hope a truck takes me out, but I also get to feel the opposite, like the world was made for me. Don’t you wish you spent more time at a ten? Or even just a seven?”

“I guess you’re kind of edging up against that age old question: what is the meaning of life? You actually sound like the Cyrenaics.”

You explain that the Cyrenaics were a Socratic school of thinking in ancient Greece that believed the meaning of life was to maximize the pleasure of every single moment. They argued that because the future was not guaranteed – you could die tomorrow, the unpredictable could tear your best laid plans asunder – it made no sense to do anything but live in the moment.

“It makes sense on paper,” you continue. “If I die tomorrow, don’t I wish I enjoyed every moment of today? But…my mom kind of lived that way, and it ultimately ended with her dying in poverty and agony. The future makes me too anxious. I need to prepare for it, even if that means denying myself something in the moment. Otherwise, I’ll get too worked up to enjoy anything in the present. So, sure I would like to be at a ten more often, but I can’t get there if I’m risking a future one. My brain just doesn’t work that way.”

“I think you just haven’t experienced true pleasure,” Hanma purrs.

“You might want to think that through,” you tease and then remember that you don’t want to remind this man of the pleasure and terror he inflicted upon you.

“I mean it. Real pleasure…it’s addictive. Pain and pleasure have a lot in common. They’re the only two forces in this world that make you exist fully in the present. And I’m talking about true pleasure here, not just a little jolly here or there. True pleasure wipes out everything else. If you have any room in your brain to worry about the future, then you’re feeling something different,” Hanma says.

Once upon a time, you would have dismissed these pretty, seducing words altogether, but you know what he means now after the mind and body games of your last session. There was no moment but the present when you rode his cock, no fear of what came next as you bit through skin to return a fraction of the hurt you felt to him. Thinking back to that time, you don’t remember it being pleasurable in any sense of how you would normally describe the term. Rather, it was transcendent. Not all good, but all-encompassing instead.

“If you never mitigate risk, you will find yourself in a situation where you can’t experience pleasure anymore. Say tomorrow, I quit my job and blow all my money on a shopping spree, that will feel good for a day, and then I’ll be living on the street when rent comes due.” Another example of this philosophy crosses your mind. A necessary reminder that despite the multiple men who have urged you to throw your inhibitions to the wind tonight, there would be consequences to dropping your professional mask. “I think the Epicureans had the right idea of things. They were another school of thought, said that one should maximize pleasure and minimize pain. Though even that I struggle with. No human being could ever get that equation right. Only an omniscient god could aspire to that.”

“You have a tiny, and truly, Doc, I mean miniscule, point there. Delayed gratification is only worth it if the prize is big enough. If I did what I wanted most right now because I might take a bullet tomorrow, that would stop me from getting something one hundred times better in the days to come. Sometimes we have to work for our meal,” Hanma says.

You catch a glimpse of the stripper on stage as she lifts one of her breasts to her mouth and suckles on the nipple. A cacophony of hoots rises up at the lewd act. Heat blossoms in your chest. Hanma’s mouth looks wet from where his beer lingers on his lips, sauce licked away.

“And I plan to eat well,” you toast him, tipping your can of grape soda in his direction. Sometimes you look at Hanma, and all you see is zeroes in your bank account.

“Is that your meaning of life then, Doc? Enriching yourself? And then one day you finally relax and enjoy it?”

“Maybe. I’m more interested in what your meaning of life is,” you counter.

Hanma picks around the bone of a chicken wing, teeth precise as they tear through flesh. A man of endless appetites, he reaches for another.

“I haven’t studied any fancy ideas like you. I don’t know the Epicureans or the whatevers. I don’t know the meaning of life. What I know is what gets me out of bed in the morning. And that’s that there is no alternative. I can’t stay in bed all day, or I’ll die. I can’t stay in bed all day, or I’ll die of boredom. Even if getting out of bed offers nothing better, I have no choice. I don’t think there is a meaning. People just are. We live because we have no choice but to live unless something kills us. And then, we’ll be dead with no choice but to remain dead, same as living.”

You are less studied in “fancy ideas” than Hanma imagines, only taking one elective philosophy course in university. One of your professors suggested you dabble in that side of the human condition as patients often require a grounding purpose to guide their recovery. Still, you recognize in Hanma’s musings the shadow of a real philosophical framework.

“That sounds like pessimistic naturalism. Some nihilist thought considers boredom the inevitable foundation of life. They say nothing humans do is ever meaningful enough to matter, so we suffer from boredom as a result. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it’s definitely not helpful. So many things already bring you joy, so isn’t it better to recognize that those things are inherently meaningful because they matter to you? That goes back to the mood stabilizers. I want to get you to the point where you can suffer a low period because you know that a high – which is the whole meaning of your life – is around the corner,” you explain.

Inconsiderate of everyone around him, Hanma lights a cigarette. He nods along as he puffs a plume of smoke that dances erotically overhead before disappearing into the neon lights. There is no ashtray at the table, so he dabs the stub into a table napkin.

“Sounds good to me. I know good things are coming,” Hanma says with a nerve-inducing smile.

“What is your goal exactly?”

“Oh no, Doc. That’s classified information,” Hanma tuts. More seriously, he adds, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do after I finally…get what I want. If I still have years of life ahead of me, I can’t picture myself old. I look around at other people and how they define their lives around money or success or family. I already have money and success, have had it since I was young. Nothing left to do there. And, I never had a loving family. Once I’ve done everything there is to do…I don’t know what’s next.”

Sharp pain slices through you, and you realize you were picking the skin of your cuticles raw. A bead of blood wells on your ring finger, and you pop the wound into your mouth. The bleeding stops, but the wound sits open and red. Pointedly, you fold your hands in your lap.

Without a family as a template for how to interact in the world, you often feel formless. There is a very clear schedule that women are expected to follow: it’s okay to worry about your career in your twenties, but your primary responsibility is to become a wife. Then, your thirties and forties are defined by the role of mother. Maybe a short break in your fifties to focus on yourself as a person, but then you’re hurtled back into the role of grandmother to wait for death. Even more career-minded women, like Miyasato, capitulate to the template and tell you their families come first.

Every choice you make is dedicated not to family but the accumulation of a fat nest egg that will keep you secure in your advanced years. Never mind that you don’t know what you will actually do with yourself once you retire and money is no longer the motivator.

Would you find a hobby? You love to cook, already dedicating two hours every evening to the preparation of multi-course meals, researching new recipes, and shopping around for rare ingredients. In retirement, you could embark on some kind of cooking challenge, like learning a dish from every country in the world. And then, you could set those scrumptiously prepared dishes out to a table of one, eat a few bites, and watch the garbage consume the rest.

You are aware that you are feeling sorry for yourself, but it is hard not to when even the bartender at the titty club is laughing and bantering with customers who know him by name.

“Well, I think you’re in no danger of doing everything life has to offer,” you say after too much time passes. “Focus everything you have on your goal for now, and then, if you achieve it, you’ll find something else to look forward to.”

The conversation draws naturally to a close. Good timing, as you see a man moving in your direction. He is dressed in a white button-down and gold jewelry, limp black hair combed to conceal a receding hairline. A waitress smiles solicitously as he passes, and you know he must be the owner.

“Hanma-san,” the man greets with a blow. To you, he gives a half nod, like he is unsure what courtesy you merit. “I spoke to my colleague about the situation, and we are in agreement. Thank you for trusting us with this. As a token of our appreciation, please enjoy your time here to the fullest. On the house, of course.”

He passes Hanma a folded-up napkin. Inside is a baggie filled with white crystals, almost pretty in the light. You have never seen drugs in person, but you can recognize crystal meth from your textbooks.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hanma says.

“Um, I mind,” you say immediately. The owner starts like he’s heard a gunshot. “You absolutely cannot take that while on lithium. You are going to overdose and die, and then where will you be?”

Hanma rolls his eyes. “Ten feet under, I suspect.”

“We just had an entire conversation about how you have to live to achieve your goals,” you snap, and then turning to the owner. “Thank you for your…generosity but take it back.” The owner is so pale his black eyes stand out like bugs on his face. He does not move to confiscate the meth.

“You have a point. How about a quid pro quo? If I can’t have my fun now, you need to help me have my fun some other way,” Hanma suggests.

“Not just tonight. All the time. You absolutely cannot take any drugs while you’re on lithium. I shouldn’t have let you even drink that beer, but I allowed it because it was just one. You need to be careful,” you snap.

“Let me…” Hanma rolls the words around on his tongue consideringly.

“Let you,” you restate firmly.

“Well, then, if my life means so much to you. I’m sure you’ll agree to a little something in return.”

Disastrously, you do.

--

There are nine beautiful women working the club tonight. Every one of them is paraded before Hanma for his selection. Each woman is as beautiful as the last, one for every imaginable type: curvy, lithe, glamorous, oxymoronically demure. Hanma picks a woman with long dark hair, dressed more like an idol than a stripper in a frilly multi-colored dress, who calls herself Naomi.

Officially, the club offers lap dances in a row of cubicles partitioned by black curtains that are mere bolts of fabric. Naomi confidently leads you past these seedy receptacles to a private backroom.

The room is dark, lit up by the same pink and purple lighting as the rest of the club. There is a small stage at the front – presumably for private shows, but you suspect is really covers for the illegal activities conducted here – and a three-cushion couch opposite it, where Hanma immediately seats himself. You demure from joining him, choosing instead to sit on the stage. The platform is raised, so your feet dangle off the floor.

“How should we start, Doc? What would you like to see first?” Hanma asks, voice battling the loud EDM music blaring from a TV in the corner.

“I want no part in this. I’m here per our agreement. That’s it,” you say.

“Why did I figure you’d say that?” Hanma laughs.

“Pretend I’m not even here.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t even look at you?”

“Yes.”

Hanma agrees easily, which surprises you, makes you wary. You wrap your arms around your body protectively to ward off the cold. A fan winds listlessly above your head and an HVAC blows cool air directly onto your skin. Dancing must be sweaty work.

With no regard to the cold, Naomi shimmies out of her garish dress, revealing a pair of panties and no bra. You try not to look but instinctively catalogue the curves of her exposed body and judge it against your own.

You look up, anything to avoid leering at the two of them. But, above their heads, is a mirror mounted to the ceiling that reflects the action back to you. From this angle, you can’t see the expression on Hanma’s face, but you have an unfettered view of his dick, hard and wet.

Naomi lowers to her knees in front of the couch, so that you are presented with her back. She unbuttons Hanma’s pants. This is the first time you’ve see the cock that was inside you. Hanma’s cock sits tall and curved against his stomach. Black hair, the same color as what trails down his stomach thatches at the base.

The head of Hanma’s cock is red and angry, more inflamed than Naomi’s pink tongue as it strokes along the underside.

Long, wet brushes of tongue. Barely started and strands of thick saliva already cling to Naomi’s chin as she slobbers all over the shaft. The impressive length of him becomes glaringly obvious when Naomi holds his cock against her cheek. The tip extends beyond her forehead, the cock taller than her entire head. And that fat, angry, red cock, had been inside you.

As Hanma receives a professional grade blow job, he leans back like nothing is happening. He lights yet another cigarette. The smell of smoke is eaten up by the air freshener that pumps away from an outlet near the stage.

Even as Hanma’s cock is worshipped, you are undeniably aroused.

Naomi moves to suck on Hanma’s balls, face tilted upward, so that you can make out her features through the ceiling mirror. Now that you look closely, there are some surface-level similarities between the two of you. Something in the line of her jaw, similar age. Glancing down, you think the way her ass sits, dimpled as it rests on her high heels is similar as well, the shape of it.

The similarities are enough that if you squint, you can almost imagine that is you on your knees. That you are seated before Hanma like a supplicant.

Naomi abruptly swallows half of Hanma’s cock, making space for something that should not possibly fit.

You touch the base of your neck carefully. Feel the hard cartilage beneath the flesh.

Hanma is different than you might have imagined. Not that you did. Somewhere instinctually, you simply envisioned that he would be rougher with a lover, forcing a woman’s head down and ignoring the choking. The kind of thing you see in porn. Instead, he dominates Naomi’s movements with a casual certitude that doesn’t require roughness. He makes little corrections to her technique with a tug of her hair or a push on her head. Never enough to make her gag, just a signal to adjust.

Your earlier conversation about the pursuit of pleasure returns to you. Perhaps it’s his confidence in the value of pleasure that grants him this effortless ability to pursue it now. You remember nights in the dark, when a lover missed your clit over and over, mashing uselessly at your labia, and you simply let him. Too detached to correct his form.

The intensity of the blow job increases by degrees. First, Naomi’s throat opens up, more of Hanma’s length caressed and sucked with each bob of her head. Then, her hands join in a sticky rhythm to massage the base of him. A line of spit dangles off his shaft every time Naomi returns to the head and is then swallowed up again on the downward descent.

Throughout, Hanma never glances in your direction. His eyes stare to the side and the door, or they study the woman on her knees. He follows your instructions to pretend you’re not there to the letter, and you desperately wish he would stop.

For the first time since you saw him on the street tonight, you feel a yawning distance, like there’s a glass wall, between you both. He is having an experience completely separate from you that you can’t hope to touch. You can’t reach him. You hate it. No different than if you were alone in your living room, scanning through cable TV for lack of anything better to do.

Because he is not looking, you don’t think too carefully as you uncross your arms, and let your fingers trail down the exposed skin of your arms. It tickles a little, a tease that chills your body and heats the spark in your stomach. You shouldn’t do this, vowed that you would not let him touch you again, but you deserve pleasure, too. Don’t you?

Again, you rub tenderly at the flesh of your neck, the shell of your own ear. You watch Naomi as you do. No matter how bored he looks, Hanma must feel good with Naomi laboring over his cock, and now you do too. You feel the distance between you shrink a little, a crack in the glass that separates you from him.

The look on Naomi’s face galvanizes you. Shimmering in her eyes are unshed tears, a furrow to her brow as she forces past her gag to satisfy him. Hanma’s cock must be a battering ram in her throat. You wonder if she is soaked through at having such a big cock inside her. If you were in her place, you would be.

You can’t resist escalating when such simple touches light your blood from within. You rub your bare thighs together to put pressure on your cunt. You pinch your nipples through the fabric of your dress. They are painfully hard, and you bite your lip to contain a gasp at the excruciating contrast.

If Hanma looks at you now, honest and shameless in your feelings, you will combust.

He doesn’t look. Emboldened by his continued obedience, you ruck your dress up over your hips, revealing your panties. They are damp, hardly a barrier as the fabric presses into your folds. You search for your clit and find it peeking (and peaking) through your clitoral hood. Sparks fly in your stomach at the barest graze of your fingertips over the fabric. Greedy, you rub it firmly.

Already, you are close to an edge and desperate to tip over. You imagine Hanma might be as well. You imagine that you are on your knees with that hard cock battering the inside of your throat. He was piercing in your cunt, and he would be in your throat, too, no matter how gently he treated you. He wouldn’t pull out. He would blow his load down your throat, and you would swallow him down with a smile. He would return the favor, drinking from the source of you, eating your pussy with no mercy until you cried.

You couldn’t stop your orgasm now if you wanted to. It approaches with terrible certainty. Your thighs quake before the crest and you close your eyes against the demand it makes of your body. Heat flares, and you whimper pathetically. When you cum, it will damn you.

Your eyes flutter open at the height of the peak and find Hanma’s staring you down. Not through the mirror. Direct eye contact as he strokes his own cock while Naomi mouths at his balls. You cum on the spot.

Your whole body seizes up with it, pussy begging as it flutters around nothing. Waves of euphoria wash from your stomach to your cunt to your fingertips as you buck and moan and continue to rub your aching clit through it. Just as you think the waves are weakening, Hanma grunts and cums on Naomi’s face. The sound incites you, and two more waves of pleasure burst unnaturally from your clit.

Later, you will castigate yourself for your choices today. If only you showed more self-control. If only you remembered your responsibilities as a therapist. Using your body has worked to a degree in capturing his interest and maintaining his focus, but it is not sustainable. You can’t sell your body and pleasure to Hanma in exchange for cooperation.

But, for now, as you slump backwards on the stage, back cold and chest heaving, you can only think that you are doing a damn good job at maximizing your pleasure.

And a damn bad one at minimizing your pain.

[makemeanangelpure]

April 10, 2024- 111.6

I can get back down to 108 by Friday morning by just doing what I do, and keeping to the liquid fast. I tried cooking for myself when Soul left. Nothinh astounding I guess, just an egg sandwich that’s special because it’s what momma used to make me when I was little and her and papa were still together… when they seemed alright at least… but it’s a comfort I guess and ever since I made it for Soul, I’ve been having one sometimes. It’s not the same though. I think eating it just makes me sad. I haven’t seen her in so long. But like momma I’ll make them for him, because he really likes them. Soup is pretty adamant about anything I cook and lately has had such a love for cream cheese chicken that he told me he dreamt about it the other night. Haha. Next time I make that I intend have half of one, take a few bites and then put it in the fridge. Then the time after that not have any do he can work out all 4, as is or I can put a sliced one on a sandwhich like he was drooling about. He’s so cute. I love feeding him after a hard day of missions and/or school activities. So I tried to eat the sandwich earlier… and I just felt… too full and gross… I drank water to try and help the nausea but I wound up getting sick… so I won’t make one for me in awhile… it’s really greasy anyway… I should be eating things more clean like fruit and vegetables and maybe I’ll boil my eggs… cause protein will help will my muscle build and my body will burn more naturally that way during the day so I’ll be super healthy! ^^

Soul is going to get home pretty late after piano practice and basketball with Kid and Blackstar, so he’ll bring something to eat home. Sometimes he’ll eat half with them and finish it home later with me. Our meal times together are usual so it makes me happy hes even subconsciously out of his way to have dinner time with me. Getting sick like that stole my energy, and I want to read some on my rest day today, so I’m having an energy drink. I used to never drink them, but soul has the Reign sometimes and I found sometimes when I’ve uo too late studying, it’s just what I need for a little kick here and there. I’ll get a case maybe when we go grocery shopping Sunday, among more necessary things like toilet paper and tooth paste. I got a part time job to help with living. You know grants can’t pay for everything forever. I’m really happy for soul too, he picked up a few shifts at a record shop we live pretty close too, just a 5 minute drive on his motorcycle, so I don’t have to worry about him being too late when he’s sluggish in moving around, doesn’t have to be there til 11 anyway. I tried so hard to find a bookstore to work at… but nothing was available unfortunately, so I’m making do with retail, working register or organizing shelves. They sell a lot of older items and the people that come in a pretty nice. Tomorrow I get to open the store which is nice. First time doing that so I’m a little nervous. My manager said if I’m still doing well in a month or two, he’s going to move me to the back to help with truck. It would be 7-3 pm shifts. Lots of lifting, tagging merchandise and stacking and the last 3 hours I could be called to go help with register but it would be fun to be promoted and get to basically workout with weights instead of the more cardio base that’s happening now. So yay! I just have to keep it up to get to that point. Which reminds me soul’s birthday is a month and half away now. He’ll be 17 which is amazing for him, I know he’s so excited to be 18, but still just enjoying the moment… I guess he’s taught me that it’s okay to look forward to something but not let it overwhelm you… just enjoy the the ride. The month after I’ll be 16! I know sweet 16 is a big thing, but I really prefer putting together surprises for other people. I almost feel bad sometimes when so much is attention is on me. It will be fun though, I’d really love to just cook everyone something and play games, or go out for sushi and go to an arcade… OR a picnic and swimming party since it’ll be summer time. The hassle of swimsuits though… I mean I don’t mind it… I love swimming and I’ve really missed it… it just going to be kind of embarrassing. I don’t know. The last thing I want to hear is how small my chest is… or I don’t fit a swimsuit right or ‘ of course I’m wearing a one piece.’ I kind of feel like the odd one out. Tsubaki, Liz and Patty and Blaire… they have beautiful womanly bodies… and I’m just different. My momma had a petite frame too- I’m not mad at her for the body she gave me… I can go down a rabbit hole about papa not being satisfied with momma and that’s why he treated… all the women I see him with definitely look a certain way. Whatever. If we swim for my birthday… I might even recommend it and I’m sure the others would bounce on the idea… beach volleyball… the boys would love. Liz would drag me and tsubaki to go tan a little while, so warm in the sun, and Patty and kid could make amazing sand castles and giraffes. Haha. Soul would be happy about popsicles. Creamsicle sounds so good!

I’m blabbering so much but I haven’t really said everything out loud before… or written it down really I just think about everything.

So swimming in two months and half potentially, well actually it’s for sure going to happen that sounds so fun. Liz will love if I ask her to help me find a nice swimsuit, and be totally positive about me getting a two piece. I think I will… maybe it can be light blue or white? My body and face is still really soft. I guess you could call it baby fat, and being more active lately, being more carful about what I eat, I can kind of see a bit of toned stomach action happening. I’m excited for what I can achieve in two months and even the one you know? Getting rid of baby fat and butterflying cacooning into my more young adult body will be good. I’m always going to be small and I’m trying to work on being okay with that, so I just have to make myself as proud as possible of the way I look. I’m going to look strong and healthy, so what if I don’t have the greatest curves, I’ll have skinny curves… angles and definition that I earned by working so hard. I’m almost 5’3 instead of 5’0 now from when we first moved in together and I was 14 so my baby weight is evening out and gosh soul is growing too. He already called me shorty but sometimes he looks down at me in such this smug way, like he’s so cool for being taller. He’s almost 5’7 now. I assume he’ll stop growing at 5’9 since I think Wes is around there or 5’10. Soul has always looked really handsome and like me, he’s growing into a more young adult version of himself, angels of his facial features a little more sharper, shadowed by a vague sleepiness like always, more movement to the way his scar runs along his chest in abdomen from natural definition. He’s the type of person to not workout barely at all, and look like he must go 3 days a week and eat like a clean freak, but nope, typical boy like Blackstar to be able to hork down unhealthy food and still look like he puts the work in. Ah being young with a great metabolism. Haha.

Oh what else…?

Oh yeah, last I made an entree, I was saying how I was nervous to get my hair cut, to repair damage and try something new for the warmer weather. Liz got highlights in her hair too, and even trimmed her front hair pieces ( evenly of course) to frame her face; it looks so pretty she’s like one of those victorious secret models. Tsubaki didn’t cut her hair, just a basic trim. She so pretty all the time, and Patty did a more blunt look with her bangs. My hair is shoulder length now, so we took 5 inches of dead hair off. It’s a big change. I can’t really wear my hair in pigtails right now in my normal mid spot because the hair at the nape of my neck is just barely too short to stay pulled up. I can do really tiny low pigtails but it’s really not helping with my “ growing up glow up” as the Thompson put it. I’ve been wearing it in half up pigtails when we’ve gone on missions so my hair isn’t swinging around in my face, like I did for the dance two years ago. But my hair will be around my upper arms in October, and then I’ll fully put my hair up again, and it won’t matter if it’s a more girlish hairstyle, I’ll be so confidently me by then it won’t even matter and I can pull off anything. Since I’ve lost some baby weight, I’ve noticed Soul doesn’t really knock at me having ‘ fat ankles ‘ anymore like he used to joke. Maybe he realized it hurt my feelings or i actually did have bigger legs and don’t anymore… if so then goodbye preteen fat. He’s been sweet too, picking me up from the couch to carry me to bed and either he’s just proud of how strong he is, but doesn’t brag because that wouldn’t be cool, or I’m actually fun to pick up because… like me lifting him in scythe form, it’s not a challenge? Rather than poking fun at me in what feels like an almost mean, taunting way, he’s been calling me ‘ itty bitty’ and ‘ little maka’ when he’s done his proud looking down at me..: or we’re just walking around town and sat for some deathbucks and he just kinda set his hand over mine, emphasizing how he could hide my fingers completely with his, sounding like he was marveling instead of mocking me when he said, “ you’re so tiny.” His comments are sounding more like compliments than half annoyed jabs, and I guess it’s him just becoming g more mature? Either way, it’s made me feel really nice and even a little more proud of my petite stature. If my partner thinks it’s cute rather than unattractive and off putting, then why should I feel so bad? He hasn’t said anything about my chest in awhile… maybe because I’m not so flat chested anymore? I did go from an A32 to a B32, and I think honestly where my chest size will be sitting at even when I’m momma’s age. Maybe he’s noticed I’ve grown a little… maybe he’s too embarrassed to say anything? Maybe it wouldn’t be cool to point out my chest or body changing at all because he doesn’t want to get slapped with a book? I’m overthinking everything… but doesn’t it feel kind of nice imagining he’s been able to see me grow and evolve some the same way I’ve seen him. I just texted him to tell him I’m proud of him. I know how much it bothers him his parents not approving of his work and how he’s going his own way about things apart from his family’s expectations. We were hugging a few months back after a slight argument I don’t even really remember what it was about but we were hugging about frogging eachother afterwards and I teared up telling him how proud I was of him if he ever felt like no one saw how hard he was working, I did. I feel his soul swell with emotion, and he’d tighten his hold on me, uttering a cool thank you, though I’d heard the way his breath shook like he was soft. I keep thinking about that day a lot, so I hope even when I don’t say it, he knows how proud I am of him. I know he’s proud of me too, especially lately trying to be nicer to papa, comforting me too when plans with him don’t really work out. I cried on his chest a few weeks ago when I made plans with papa and he forgot… too drunk when he’d been talking to me I guess to remember because when I went where we supposed to meet

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Chapter 76: Victory Lap

TWs in the tags

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When you wake up in the morning, you realize you didn’t have any nightmares at all. None that you can remember, at least. For a while, you thought that would never happen again, but here you are. You know that this is a temporary good period, and that the nightmares will eventually get bad again. But from where you are now, you can see that the temporary good periods are getting longer, and the bad periods are getting shorter. If things continue this way, and you think they will, you’ll eventually only have nightmares every once in a while, and you’ll be able to easily deal with them when they happen.

You can’t even remember the last time you woke up feeling this good. Not just safe- you felt safe for a while at Jane’s house, even though it was a lie. But you never woke up in Jane’s house feeling excited for the day. You don’t think you’ve woken up looking forward to the day ahead of you since you were a kid, actually. That’s… sad.

But now you are waking up excited. Now as you slowly go through the process of waking up your brain, you think of all the things you want to do today. You’re going to study magic and practice Dollie and Kit’s names and go on a walk and Diya said ey’d teach you how to bake bread, and maybe you’ll work on your knitting project or finishing up that book about trauma and nightmares if your head is feeling okay. If not, you’ll just play some simple card and board games with Diya and Ray and maybe Barron.

First, you do your morning work-out with Diya. You’re doing more push

-ups and sit-ups than you started with, but you’ve found that doing too many makes some old scars hurt. You looked up if scar tissue should be stretched and you didn’t fully understand the answers, so you just make sure to stop if you’re in pain.

You think that the scars limiting your movements would be a lot more upsetting if you hadn’t already been forced to accept that your body won’t ever work the same way it did before Jane took you. You get headaches from anything that requires prolonged focus and things that used to be easy are hard, now. Things will never be like they were before. But you can still be happy.

You really enjoy your morning runs. They don’t aggravate old scars or give you headaches, so long as you drink enough water. You tend to run for a lot longer than Diya every day. It feels really good, and if you could go beyond the reach of the magical protection, you think you’d be interested in trying to run marathons.

You definitely couldn’t run a marathon right now, but every day you’re getting stronger. It feels really, really good to feel strong.

After your run, you take a shower and join the others for breakfast. Ray made oatmeal for everyone, but says you can fix yourself something else if you don’t like it. You’ve never been a big fan of oatmeal, but you eat your serving enthusiastically. You can’t tell how invested they are in people liking what they made, so you’ve decided it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Hey Liam, did you ever end up having lucid dreams?” Diya asks.

“Oh shit, I haven’t even been doing the things to make lucid dreaming happen! My nightmares have been decreasing, though.”

“Good!”

“What about you?”

“Hmm… I think I had a lucid dream last night, but I couldn’t always control it. It was more like being lucid was part of the plot of the dream, rather than me actually having a lucid dream.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Did it help with the nightmares at all?”

“Not really, but that’s okay. It was worth a shot.”

Once you’re done with breakfast, you help clean up and then dive back into some of the magic books Barron gave you, remembering to take some ibuprofen before you start.

Over the past few weeks, you’ve finished the first two books, the ones about magic in general and magic history, and now you’re working on the one about magical objects.

Magic is… weird. Repeatedly, you’ve gone to Barron to ask why the books contain so many contradictions, and its answers have ranged from “oh, that’s not actually a contradiction, the book is just using that word to mean something different than it does to non-mages” to “Yeah, it wouldn’t be magic if it made sense.”

“It’s all guesses and models.” It said. “Ways of thinking about magic that allow for the best results. Magic isn’t like science. It actively resists being studied and practiced. Don’t treat anything anyone tells you about magic as absolute truth. It’s all guesses.”

“So… when you said Jane doesn’t confirm to the ‘rules of magic’…”

“She doesn’t conform to the way most mages understand magic. Honestly, it kind of does feel like hearing about something that doesn’t conform to the rules of gravity or something, even when I know magic isn’t like science. We’ve used these models for so long, so for someone or something to just not fit? That’s kind of scary. But it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s more powerful than things that follow the rules. It just means we’ve found a way that our current way of thinking about magic can lead to blindspots.”

You think back to that conversation often, reminding yourself that the things written in these books are not literally true in the same way things written in a textbook might be. This actually makes reading them easier. If something doesn’t make sense, you just figure that it’s not a way of thinking about magic that clicks with you, and you’ll find a completely different explanation of the same vague concept within a few chapters.

Even with the ibuprofen, you can only focus on one thing for so long. In fact, when you’ve tried to push past the pain and difficulty concentrating, you’ve found that you get dizzy and your ears ring. Best not to push it.

You can still come back to the book later. It’s… fine. It’s fine. You’ve been dealing with the brain damage very well lately, you think. There was other stuff you wanted to do today anyway, so there’s no reason to get upset about needing to stop reading. Even if it’s only been 30 minutes, and you were able to read for nearly an hour without feeling bad at all yesterday.

It’s fine.

You find Diya and Ray outside, cloud gazing.

“Hi, Liam! How’s studying magic going?”

“Fine. It’s kind of hard to read today.” You were going to ask Diya if ey thought making bread required a lot of focus, so you could decide if you wanted to jump into that or take a break first. But… Diya and Ray seem to be having fun, and you don’t want to end it early. “Is it okay if I join you?”

“Of course!”

“Are you sure? If you just want to hang out as a couple that’s fine too.”

“No, we want to spend time with you! Well, I do, and I assume Ray does.”

Ray nods. “I do.”

You lie down in the dirt next to Diya. Ey points at a cloud. “Doesn’t that one look like a dragon?”

“Hmm… Actually, I think that cloud looks like… stuffing coming out of a pillow with a hole in it.”

You can tell Diya is rolling eir eyes without looking at em.

Ray puffs. “No, it looks like white cotton candy.”

“No, no, that’s not right at all. It looks like a bunch of soap suds.”

“You guys are terrible at this!” Diya exclaims.

“Okay, okay, it looks like soap suds in the shape of a dragon.” You say.

“Good enough! What about that one?”

The three of you share thoughts about clouds for a long time. It’s really nice. Warm and safe and peaceful.

Eventually, bugs start to bother you, so you go back inside and work on Kit and Dollie’s names. Diya and Ray follow soon after and start playing a care game in the kitchen.

It’s going faster than remembering your own name went. You can already think the names and you think you’ll be able to say them by the end of the day. And then you’ll be on track to hear other people say them!

“Kit” you whisper to yourself. “Dollie.”

You’re thrilled to have so much control back, but also terrified. You put the notebook away for now, and, in an effort to distract yourself, you go to get Diya.

“Hey, you said yesterday you wanted to teach me to make bread? Do you still want to do that?”

“Yeah! Me and Ray are almost done with this game. Oh, is it okay if Ray joins us.”

“That’s fine. Um, while you’re finishing up, I could start getting stuff ready? What stuff should I get out?”

“Oh, theres no need for that. We’re almost done.”

“Diya…” You don’t know what to say. You need to distract yourself so that the fear goes away without you ever being hurt, and your brain learns things are different now. Diya’s the one who taught you that, and it’s always worked before.

Diya finally looks up from eir cards at you. Eir face falls. “Are you okay?”

“I just… want to do something. Right now.”

Ray sets down their cards. “We don’t have to finish.”

“Right, right.” Diya gets up. “Can you put away the cards while me and Liam get set up?”

Ray nods, and Diya leads you to a drawer and takes out a big, clear bowl. “Fill this with flour. It’s in the pantry.”

Diya goes to another drawer and starts getting other stuff out. You drag a large container of flour from the pantry.

“Were you just wanting me to pour the flour in there? That seems messy.”

“Things do get pretty messy when you bake bread, but I figured you’d use a measuring cup to fill it up. They’re in the drawer to your right.”

You pick out a large measuring cup and start scooping. “And you just want me to fill the whole bowl?”

“Yep!”

If you focus on not spilling any flour, the job takes quite a bit of concentration. You’re able to think less about how Jane would hurt you and just focus. By the time the bowl is full, your hands have stopped shaking.

Over the next several hours, the three of you make some bread. It involves a lot more waiting than you were hoping for, but that does help prevent headaches, so you’re not complaining. You take a break during one of the waiting periods to make lunch, but mostly you just… hang out, keeping an eye on the bread and chatting.

“We should make a bird house.” Diya says, looking out the window at some birds.

“That would require a lot of tools.” Ray says.

“Yeah, that’s the fun part! We should try to make the cabin, but tiny and for birds!”

“What kinds of birds are around here?” You ask.

“I dunno. Normal birds? You could use the computer to look it up, if you want.”

“Maybe later. It would be really nice to have a bird house. I like birds.

Diya nods and gently pokes the bread-in-progress. “That’ll be our next little project, then. I’ll have Barron get us the supplies.”

You never would’ve dreamed you’d be living a life like this. Living with close friends and learning magic and having the ability to just… make things, if you want to.

You really wish Kit and Dollie were here. They will be, soon, you’re sure of it.

—

Once the bread is finally done baking, the three of you to for a walk while you wait for it to cool.

“Geez, Barron’s missing out on all this bonding time. If only it didn’t have a job…” Diya sighs dramatically. “Actually, maybe I should get a job. I don’t think there are any vampires actually hunting me, I don’t need to be at the cabin all the time like you guys. And if your friends are going to be joining us we’ll probably need more money. I think. I honestly have no idea how much its mage job pays.”

Briefly, you feel guilty that you’re so dependent on Barron working, and that Kit and Dollie joining you will make things harder. But… they’ve said repeatedly that they want you here, and Ray’s in the same position you are, and you don’t think their a burden. Diya could’ve gotten a job at any time and you don’t think ey’s a burden. You let the guilt slide off you. It’s not like you don’t help out, anyway, you have chores like everyone else.

You walk in silence for a while. You’ve been wanting to ask Diya something for a while, but you don’t know how to bring it up.

“Can I ask you a question, Diya? You don’t have to answer, but I’ve been reading about magical stuff and I’ve been wondering… what it was like for you to be the captive of a vampire?” It’s not a purely magical question. You want to know… how similar Diya’s experiences are to yours. But you can’t just ask 'what was your abuse like.’ That would be weird.

Diya laughs. “Why are you asking me about that and not Ray about being the captive of a faery?”

“Me and Ray have talked about that before.” You know Ray eventually just left. That they could’ve left at any time, but they chose to stay to protect their sister. It doesn’t make what happened to them any less bad, but it does make it different. “You definitely don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s not important that I know or anything, and I can find other ways to learn about vampires.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not super hard to talk about, I just assume that people will ask if they want to know. Which is funny because I also assume other people will tell me things if they want me to know, so I shouldn’t ask… Anyway, I don’t know a lot about vampires. I only saw him for a few minutes every day, and it’s not like we were chatting during those times. I know vampires drink blood and that’s about it. I didn’t even see Jane kill him, I just ran.“

“Oh. That’s okay. Um… if you ever want to talk about it, either of you, I’m- I’m here to listen.”

Ray nods. “Us too. You can talk to us too if you ever want to.”

“Yeah! But I think you already knew that. I hope so, at least.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The three of you make it back to the cabin. You each have a slice of homemade bread with jam. It’s delicious.

When Barron gets home, you all have dinner, before playing Clue and heading to bed. You lost, and you didn’t even cry this time!

It’s still frustrating to be bad at things you were once good at. But you’re getting good at things you were once bad at, too.

You want to work on your knitting or read a bit more before bed, but you’ve done a lot today and you’re really tired. There’s always tomorrow.

—

You reread the page a few times to be sure you understood correctly, but there’s really not a lot of ways to interpret it. It’s a good thing Barron’s home.

You knock on its bedroom door, book still in hand.

“Come in.”

You throw the door open. “Barron! There were spells that reduced pain this entire time and you didn’t tell me? I was in so much pain you wanted to take me to the hospital once!” You hold the book open so that Barron can see the page you’re talking about.

Barron pulls several expressions you don’t understand before settling on something apologetic. “It didn’t even occur to me. All the pain reducing spells we know of have really bad side effects. When I first learned about them, I thought ‘it’d be a better use of magic to just invisibly steal some painkillers,’ and then I never really thought about those spells again. The thought that you would want me to use one of them never even crossed my mind. I should’ve given you the option, at least. I know that even if you decided the side effects were too much to bear, it would’ve been easier if you felt like it was your choice. I’m sorry.”

Geez, Barron is good at apologies. You can already feel yourself calming down. You flip to the next page. Sure enough, there are several warnings highlighted in red for each pain-killing spell.

“I… guess I should’ve finished reading that section before I came to confront you.”

“I can see why that was upsetting. I should’ve told you earlier. I wasn’t intentionally hiding that information, though, I just never connected those spells to your headaches in my head. Do you want to try them?”

You glance over the warnings again. Why the fuck would a spell about relieving pain cause your fingernails to fall off, or blind you for a full week? None of the other spells so far have had warnings like this.

“Ugh, definitely not. I guess we’ll see how bad these side-effects sound the next time I have a bad episode, though. They might seem worth it if I was in enough pain.”

Barron nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

—

“The worst part wasn’t being fed from.” Diya tells you during your morning run. You take a second to catch on, then slow down so you can talk more easily. Diya follows suit.

"Oh? What was the worst part? If you want to share.”

“I was completely alone in that little cell. Once a month he’d drop off a bunch of food, and other than that I only saw him when he was drinking my blood. There were two books, and a cot, and nothing else.”

“Shit.” It’s not like what happened to you, but that’s okay. Well, not okay. Horrible. “For how long?”

“Around a year.”

That’s similar. “…It’s funny, I don’t know what to say. Like I should be able to just think of what I want to hear when I tell people about what happened to me, but…”

“There’s nothing you can say.” Ey finishes. “A lot of wrong things to say, and some inoffensive ones, but never really a good one.”

You nod.

“It wasn’t so bad. After a while I was anemic enough that I was unconscious most of the time, so I didn’t just have to sit there and be lonely and bored.”

“Ray mentioned that you were anemic when you first came here.”

“Yeah. No, being anemic wasn’t so bad. Cold and exhausting, but bearable. The worst part, the worst worst part, was the first week.”

“That makes sense. You probably didn’t really know what was going on then, so it was extra scary.”

“Well, that, but actually it was mostly that I was going through withdrawals for like… several drugs.”

“Oh. I should’ve let you finish.”

“It’s fine. But yeah, that was the worst part. Being completely alone while I puked and shook and saw things, fucking, drooling all over me gnawing on my body parts… I still can’t be positive that was a hallucination. Maybe Irving had some fucked up friends. But I think I was hallucinating. I could’ve died. For a long time, I wished I had. But not anymore. I’m… glad I made it through all that. It sucked, it was meaningless and unnecessary pain that should never have happened, don’t get me wrong, but I’m happy with where I ended up, and I don’t think I would’ve ended up here without that happening.”

That’s very similar. “I get that. I hate that everything happened this way, but I’m so glad I got to meet you, and Ray, and Barron, and Dollie and Kit-“

Fear flashes through you. You run a bit harder.

“Yeah! I’m definitely not an ‘everything happens for a reason’ type of person, but I also know that everything that’s happened to me has impacted who I am, and I like who I am, y’know? It didn’t have to happen. I could’ve ended up this happy in a million other ways. But, this is how I ended up here, and… I’m okay with that. Hey, slow down.”

“Sorry.” You take some deep breaths. “You’re really good at putting this stuff into words.”

"You’re really good at listening. I’m glad I decided to talk to you about this stuff.”

You slow down a bit more. “Can I tell you something kind of weird?”

“Always.”

“I… was kind of hoping we’d have more in common? Like, that you were afraid of Irving the same way I’m afraid of Jane. Sorry. It’s dumb, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just a weird thought I should’ve kept to myself.”

Diya is quiet for a while. “I think… you do have a lot in common with what happened to you and what happened to your friends who are still captive. So maybe… maybe you were hoping to have the same sort of bond with me?”

You stop running. Diya stops quickly after and turns around to face you.

“I- I think that’s it. Wow. I guess it’s good that I told you. Holy crap. How did you figure it out so quick?” You feel like a weight has been lifted.

Diya shrugs. “Guess I’m just super smart.”

You laugh. “I guess so.”

Now that you realize what was wrong, it’s easy to deal with. You’re never going to have a relationship with other people that’s exactly what like you have with Kit and Dollie. But that’s okay. Your other relationships are really good too.

—

Barron didn’t come to breakfast this morning. You, Ray, and Diya found it fast asleep in its bed, with its alarm still going. Its face is covered in sweat and it’s shaking beneath the blankets. You turn off the alarm clock.

Ray shakes Barron, mumbling “not again, not again, not again-“ to themself and smiling.

Barron jolts awake. “Huh?”

Ray gasps and hugs it tightly.

“Ray, honey?" Diya gently pulls Ray off of Barron and places a hand against its forehead. “Barron will be fine. It looks like just a slight fever, okay?”

You disagree that it’s a ‘slight’ fever, but the statement seems to calm Ray down.

You leave the room and head to the bathroom. You run a washcloth under cool water and ring it out, then bring it to Barron and drape the washcloth over its forehead. It seems to be asleep again.

“Thank you, Liam.” Diya says. “Ibuprofen helps with fevers, right?”

“Oh, I think so? They help with aches, at least.”

You go to leave and get some ibuprofen, but Ray beats you to it, sprinting out of the room.

“Uh… have none of you been sick since you met Ray?”

“We have. Ray… always struggles with it. We do our best.”

Ray hurries back into the room, though not sprinting this time due to the cup of water in their hand. Once they reach Barron, their movements become less urgent, and they gently prop it up with pillows before shaking it awake again.

“Medicine, here’s medicine. It’ll work this time. It’ll work, the medicine is better now.”

Ray sounds… younger. They help Barron take the pills.

Barron groans. “Where… who?”

Ray steps away abruptly. “I’ll get you some food. You’ll feel better after eating.” They sprint out of the room again. You’ve never seen Ray move so fast.

Barron is still shaking and sweating. It softly groans in its sleep.

“That’s not a ‘slight’ fever.” You whisper.

“No, it’s not. I’m going to go get our thermometer, can you keep an eye on Barron?”

You nod and Diya leaves. Ray enters the room soon after, with a tray carrying toast, yogurt, orange juice, and a water bottle.

They don’t acknowledge you and go straight to Barron, shaking it more gently this time.

“Barron. Do you want some food? I got you some food.”

Barron blinks slowly. “Wha- what’s happening? Where am I?”

“You’re in your bed. Do you want some yogurt?”

“Mmm… sure? What’s…”

Barron closes its eyes and sighs. Ray feeds it a spoonful of yogurt.

You feel… you don’t know. You don’t like that Barron is sick and Ray is upset. You keep thinking about Dollie coughing up blood and-

Well, best not to think about that right now. If you start freaking out Diya will have to take care of all three of you, and that wouldn’t be fair to em.

Diya comes back and takes Barron’s temperature.

“It’ll be alright.” Ey says. “The fever isn’t high enough that I’ll need to take it to the hospital. Barron, how long have you been sick?”

“Hmm? How long…” Barron trails off again.

“That’s more concerning.” Diya mumbles.

Ray nudges Diya out of the way and continues feeding Barron yogurt.

“…I’ve been reading about healing spells. I haven’t had a chance to pra- try any of them yet, but maybe I could help Barron?”

There is a risk to using magic here. If Barron has something that its body can fight off on its own, magic will speed up the process. But if there’s something seriously wrong, which you’re worried about with how suddenly this came on and how intense the symptoms are… magic might just make it worse. If it’s not something that can be fought off with its immune system alone, speeding up the healing will just exhaust its body’s resources.

You can’t say that with Ray in the room, though. They’re already very worried and having trouble separating the current situation from what happened to their sister. You pull Diya aside.

“There’s a chance that healing magic will make it worse. It just speeds up what the body is already doing, so if the body isn’t being helpful… that’s bad. I think if I use one of the less powerful spells we can see if it makes whatever Barron has worse or better without a ton of danger, but I don’t think I should make that decision alone. The less powerful spells are easier to prepare as well. What do you think?”

Diya glances over at Ray. “I think… that’s a good idea. Even if it makes things worse, that’ll help, because then we’ll know it can’t fight this on its own and needs more medical care than we can provide.”

You nod. You hadn’t even thought about that. “Okay, I was thinking of using a spell that gives food healing properties? There are a few, but I’d use a simpler one. That way we have even more control over how and when the magic is used. So we can do just a little at a time.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. If we made it some soup, could you cast the spell on that?”

You nod.

“Awesome! We’ll wait a little bit, since Barron’s eating breakfast right now. And if we keep an eye on it for a while before we use the spell it’ll be easier to tell if the spell makes things better or worse.”

“Good plan.”

The two of you head back towards the bed. Ray has finished feeding Barron the yogurt and is working on the toast.

“This is the last of the bread we made.” They tell him. They look up at you and Diya, smiling. “You don’t have to hide things from me. I won’t be annoying. I’ll understand. You can tell me what’s going on.”

You look to Diya, not knowing how to handle this. Diya takes Ray’s hand. They continue feeding Barron with the other. “We just didn’t want to worry you. We’re not worried about you being annoying, or not understanding. You could never annoy me, and I think you’re super smart. I just… don’t want you to ever have to suffer. And you’re already so worried, so I didn’t want to make it worse. But you’re right, that’s not fair, and we shouldn’t hide stuff from you just to stop you from worrying. I’m-“ ey cuts themself off.

Ray’s smile wavers. “What were you guys talking about?”

“We were talking about Liam’s suggestion to use a healing spell. There are some risks, but ultimately we decided that it would be worth it. We’re going to make some soup and have Liam cast a healing spell on it, so that eating it would heal Barron, and we can administer it slowly and stop if it has a negative reaction. What do you think?”

Ray gives a pained smile. “What if that kills he- it. What if that kills it?"

Diya squeezes Ray’s hand. “I think that’s very unlikely. Healing magic speeds things up. It could have negative effects, but with the way we’re doing it it’s near impossible for one of those effects to be death. Plus, if it’s something Barron can’t fight off on its own, we want to know that as soon as possible.”

Ray looks at Barron, who has fallen back asleep. They nod slowly, still smiling. “Okay. We should do a healing spell.”

They get up and take the now-empty tray back to the kitchen and come back with another water bottle, which they set on Barron’s nightstand. Then they just… stand there and stare at it. Watching it breathe.

Diya pulls the chair from Barron’s desk over to Ray. “If you’re going to just stay and watch, at least sit.”

Ray sits.

Diya watches Ray watch Barron, concerned. “I guess I should try and figure out how to call Barron in sick to work, since it doesn’t look like it’ll be able to do that itself…” Ey looks at you. You don’t know what ey wants.

“Good idea. Um… when I was living back with Jane, we used to read to each other if we ended up stuck in bed, would- would that help?”

Ray doesn’t look away from Barron. “It might.”

Diya looks reassured, and ey leaves the room to go figure stuff out. You pick up a random book sitting on Barron’s desk, sit on the end of its bed, and start reading aloud.

—

You read for a long time. Barron has stopped shaking, which seemed to calm Ray down a little bit. They’ve replaced the washcloth on its forehead a couple of times.

Your head is starting to hurt, but… you don’t know how you’ll be able to help if you stop reading. So you keep reading.

Diya hasn’t come back. Maybe ey’s having trouble contacting people outside the cabin, or maybe ey just didn’t feel the need to come back and watch Barron sleep once ey was done.

You keep losing track of what the book you’re reading is talking about. Your reading aloud has gotten more and more choppy as time goes on. You know it has something to do with magic and culture and politics.

Ray hardly blinks as they watch Barron. Your heart aches for them. You don’t know how to convince them it’ll be okay.

Funny, how you don’t feel for Barron in the same visceral way. It’s much easier to out yourself in Ray’s shoes than to but yourself in Barron’s. Not entirely surprising, but funny.

You set the book down and try to ignore your headache. “Ray?”

Ray doesn’t look up. “What is it?”

“I… I didn’t mean to be condescending, earlier, when I talked to Diya and not you.”

“I know.”

“I… also had, um, someone I, uh, cared about- cared about a lot, get really sick. And… die.”

Ray does look up at that. “Why are you saying this now?”

“I just… I understand, at least a little, how you’re feeling. I didn’t want to make it worse. I know I don’t fully understand, because you clearly felt a responsibility towards keeping your sister healthy that I never felt towards… the person I really cared about. I was never expected to take care of him or watch over him, and his symptoms were very different. But I understand a little.”

“…You never talk about it.”

“Yeah. It would probably be healthier if I did. But mostly I just don’t think about it. It was a long time ago. Over a decade. I guess it was a long time ago for you too…”

"No. My sister didn’t die until after I left the fae realm. She died a few days after we met Barron, two years ago.”

“Oh geez. That’s hard. Two years after I lost my- my dad,” there’s no reason to keep it secret “I was barely functional. I guess I just assumed that it was a while ago for you too, since you’re handling stuff so well.”

Ray puffs. “So well. That’s why I’ve been watching Barron sleep for the past hour.”

Their tone doesn’t sound like they’re being sarcastic, but you’re pretty sure they are.

“I kind of want to give you a hug, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like that.”

“What makes you think that?”

You have to think for a moment. “You just never really seek out stuff like that. Even with Diya, and ey said you’re, like, dating. I guess you hugged Barron earlier, but that was because you were really upset.”

“Public displays of affection are impolite. Diya says there’s nothing public about hugging your partner in a cabin in the middle of the woods. I still prefer to only do that stuff when we’re alone, most of the time. Someday I won’t be so scared of being impolite… But I don’t dislike it. I really like hugs, actually. It’s just… I feel rude touching people without permission, and I feel rude asking for permission… You can hug me if you want.”

You scoot towards Ray and envelope them in a very awkward hug. The movement makes your head hurt worse and you feel dizzy, but it’s worth it.

They freeze at first, and you wonder if you misinterpreted something, but then they rest their head on your shoulder and return the hug, very gently. Even though their arms are technically around your torso, they’re barely touching you.

They invited you to hug them, so you don’t think they’re uncomfortable. That’s just… the way they hug. As if they’re trying to hug a cloud.

When you pull away, Ray isn’t smiling anymore. You feel a flush of pride. They’ve been terrified all day, and hugging you is what finally calmed them down.

“Awww!”

You look towards the voice. Diya’s standing in the doorway to Barron’s bedroom.

“How long have you been standing there?” Ray asks.

“I was just going to get Liam to come cast a spell on the soup I’m making, but you were hugging and I didn’t want to interrupt! You two are adorable.”

You laugh and get up off the bed. You immediately fall over. Ow.

“Liam!”

You’d almost forgotten how dizzy you’d been getting. You really need to stop ignoring headaches… At least your ears aren’t ringing yet. “It’s fine, I just… read for too long. Can you help me up?”

You almost fall over again as Diya helps you up, but ey catches you.

“How about you stay here and I bring the soup to you?”

You nod. The world spins and you feel like you’ve been stabbed in the head. “Could you bring me ibuprofen too?”

“Yeah. Do you need, like, rocks and shit for the spell?”

“Barron has a bunch of that stuff in its dresser. I’m sure it won’t mind.”

Diya sets you back down on the bed and goes through Barron’s dresser until ey finds the drawer of magic stuff. “What do you need?”

You describe the type of leaf you want and the rune that should be drawn on it. “If there aren’t any leaves like that with that rune that’s fine, it shouldn’t be too hard to draw something on a leaf.”

Luckily, Diya finds the exact type of leaf you wanted. Ey hands it to you and leaves (ha) to go get some soup.

This spell doesn’t even require you to say anything. You just have to do the right movements. You go over them in your head while you wait.

Diya quickly returns with four bowls of soup on a tray and some ibuprofen, and sets the tray on the bed. “I figured we should all eat. So, is there else anything you need for the spell, or…”

“I can just do it. Does it matter which bowl?”

“Nope, they’re all the same."

You quickly take the ibuprofen. It won’t help that much after you’ve let it get this bad, but it’s worth a shot.

You pick up the bowl nearest to you and set the leaf under it, then set the bowl back down. You remind yourself which hand is your right and which is your left, and then do the motions for this particular spell.

…

Nothing happens.

“I, uh. Don’t know if that worked. When I made water start boiling it was pretty easy to tell, but this spell doesn’t really have a visual component… Barron’s magic always makes a popping noise. I don’t know what mine does when it works.”

“I think… for a second your eyes turned yellow? Maybe I just imagined it.”

“I think I saw that too.” Ray says.

You shrug. “Well, I guess that’ll have to be confirmation enough. Let’s wake up Barron.”

Ray shakes Barron awake as gently as its possible to shake someone awake.

“How are you feeling?” They ask.

“I wish you’d stop waking me up.” It grumbles. You feel kind of bad about annoying it, but hey, that’s the first full sentence they’ve said all day.

“Diya made some soup. Liam cast a healing spell on it. Can you eat some?”

It sighs. “Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t eat too quickly. And drink plenty of water.”

Barron grumbles something under its breath that you can’t hear.

“You can go straight back to sleep after.”

Barron starts on the soup, taking a drink of water every couple of bites. The rest of you also eat. It’s chicken noodle soup, which you really like. Normally you chat more during meals, but right now Barron doesn’t seem to want to talk.

Barron eats about half the bowl of soup before setting it down and closing its eyes. Ray glances at you and Diya, then leans in close and whispers something to Barron.

It rolls its eyes. “Yeah, that’s fair.” It starts slowly getting out of bed. “I’m going to go to the bathroom before I pass out again.”

—

Barron also ends up taking a long bath before going back to bed, and reports that it feels much better. You can’t be positive it was the spell, since its condition was improving before that, but you decide to take credit for it anyway.

Ray feels comfortable enough to not constantly watch it breathe, but doesn’t want to leave it alone, so the three of you quietly play card games on the bedroom floor while it sleeps.

By the next day Barron seems completely better, but Ray makes it stay home anyway. They get it to admit that it had been feeling sick for a while before it got this bad and just ignored it, and all three of you lightly scold it. Mostly stuff like “you wouldn’t want any of us to hide if we were sick” and “you really scared me” and “we can’t exactly call an ambulance out here and we don’t have a fucking car, I would’ve had to drag you through the fucking woods to the nearest hospital if things got any worse. And you scared Ray!”

It apologizes for hiding feeling sick and for ‘being grumpy’ while sick. It apologizes in a fairly roundabout way to avoid saying ‘I’m sorry’ and upsetting Ray, but you get the idea.

Barron and Diya spend a long time talking about how to make sure that if something does put it out of commission you all still have a non-teleportation way to get to the nearest town. Eventually they settle on Barron getting someone it trusts from work to agree to come and help if any of you message them on the computer.

Within a few days, everything is back to normal. A joyous, wonderful normal.

You feel like you’ve won. Against Jane, against your own brain, against everything that was keeping you down. Now all that’s left to do is help your other friends win too.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

[sugacookees]

10:00 PM

You had agreed to meet him in your dorm room at 10 p.m.

It's half-past eight, and you've been alone with your thoughts for far too long. There were no messages, not even from your friends. Of course, it's not because they dislike you. Everyone is just too preoccupied with final exams right now. You should probably study for yours, but you believe the three days you've spent cooped up in your room have prepared you enough, if not too much.

The internet connection in the dorm building is agonizingly slow, allowing your show to run at 480 frames per second.

I can’t even finish this god damned episode.

You made the decision to leave your room before going insane. There’s a lounge on the second floor of your building, so you decided to head there.

The room has bean bags, couches, a table, some seats, a vending machine, and a TV. It's nine in the evening, you've had your dinner, so you've settled on some chips. You chose to sit on the brown leather couch in front of the TV, your legs resting on the sofa's arms. Because students aren't allowed to change the channel, you're stuck watching the news.

Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do.

A couple of minutes later, two students enter the room. They're giggling all the way to the table, their arms locked. You give them a quick glance before averting your gaze to avoid drawing unwanted attention to yourself. You return your gaze to the television and see a man being arrested for drug use in a bar's staff room.

Soon enough, the giggles become too loud, interfering with your ability to watch in peace.

Can’t they fucking do this someplace else?

You glance at the couple and see them eating each other’s faces out. But instead of being more frustrated, your mind wanders over a certain boy.

The two of you had no label for whatever you two had. Just people who are more than friends but less than lovers. It's not like you were keeping it from everyone or your friends. You had just agreed to keep it that way. The reason for so, though, was uncertain. Perhaps out of fear? Fear of what others would say, or fear that if you made it known to everyone and things went bad, it would be absolutely embarrassing. But maybe you both just wanted each other for yourself. Who knows.

He isn't unpopular. Girls are definitely lining up for him. When he gets tired of you, it won't be long before there's a replacement for you right by his side. The most daunting aspect of it all is that you already have a female candidate in mind for the position. She's been suspicious of you both ever since she saw you holding hands in a café. She's also very attractive. And smart. And incredibly fucking kind. That is the most upsetting aspect of it all. She’s a sweet girl. She’s known him since freshman year and developed a much-too-obvious crush on him.

You admit that in some aspects, she’s definitely better than you.

Hell, if I were him, I’d choose her.

So tonight, you think. Think of where he is. Is she there by his side, as she should be? Is he entertaining her? Is she making him happy? These awful thoughts linger in your mind for the remainder of your stay in the dorm lounge, with the TV playing in the background and the giggles of that damned couple who prompted this dilemma.

Fuck, it’s quarter to ten. I’m gonna be late.

And so he runs.

He’s been at the bar since 5. As a reward for finishing the exam, a group of his classmates invited everyone out for a drink. Mr. Congeniality that he is, he gladly joins in. The girl he’s known since freshman year sticks by his side. She’s nice, he thinks. However, a distinct image of someone comes to mind. He glances at his watch, which reads 8:30 p.m.

To be honest, he's tired of it. The party, the people, and the beverages. All he can think about right now is leaving this bar and going back to their dorm. Eating take-out together, watching random Youtube videos on their bed, and keeping them close enough to smell that fresh coconut shampoo they use that he loves so much. But it would be too weird.

Because they aren't his significant other, arriving early would be too obvious. He clearly likes them more than he's letting on. But he's not sure how much longer he can go on like this. Clandestine meetings and longing gazes. He wants to walk around campus with them, post pictures of their dates, and let everyone know that he already belongs to someone else.

The bartender's yell snaps him out of his trance. He tries to approach the commotion to find out what's going on, leaving his spot and the girl behind. He stands on his toes as he sees one of his classmates being dragged out by the bouncers. Soon after, sirens and the all-too-familiar red and blue lights appear. He learns from others that the man who was just dragged out and is now being arrested was doing drugs in the staff room. Fucking moron. Now he really wants to go.

He goes outside to wait for a cab. But so is everyone else. And, being the gentleman that he is, he allows everyone to hail a cab first. Moments later, the girl who had been by his side earlier approaches him and asks if he wants to share a cab with her because they live close together. He refuses, claiming that he has someone waiting for him. Which is a lie, and in retrospect, a better option than where he is now.

Running.

Waiting for a cab made the time fly quickly, and now he was running late. He really doesn't want to let them down and make them feel unimportant. They were so far away from it. If they had texted him and he was on the other side of the world, he would immediately book a flight to meet them.

He calls them, hoping they'll understand that he'll be late. Unfortunately, he only gets a dial tone. He tries again and comes up short. He considers calling them again, but this may be too clingy of him.

So he keeps running until he sees that familiar building, which strangely makes him smile. In his mind, he laughs at how mundane things have become extraordinary simply because of them.

You are startled awake. Shit, I fell asleep. When you look at the time, it's five to ten. You make your way quickly out of the lounge, shaking your head as you pass the couple passed out by the bean bags. And, to make matters worse, the elevator is being repaired. As a result, you begin your journey by ascending several flights of stairs.

By the time you make it to your floor, you’re completely out of breath.

I probably look fucking insane right now.

You make your way to your room to prepare for a bit before he comes. However, the universe had other plans for you.

Just when you turned towards the hallway where your dorm is, he stood there, almost mirroring your condition. He's heaving, his hair is stuck to his brow, and his hands are on his knees.

You take a few tentative steps forward. He looks up, sees you, and smiles. You do the same and ask as to why he looks tired.

"I- uh, used the stairs because your elevator wasn't working," he says, not making eye contact with you, which usually means he's lying. But you remain silent and hum in agreement.

You nod towards your door, inviting him to enter and follow you.

If I told them I ran from the bar, I’m actually fucked. Whipped son of a bitch.

He follows them in and heads straight for their bed. He believes that this bed is softer than the expensive one he has at home and that it must feel like a cloud.

Like routine, they head to the bathroom to freshen up, and he looks for a shirt of his in their drawer. While waiting, he sets up the movie and orders some food.

They emerge from the bathroom, and he believes it would be fine if he died right now. He doesn't mind if he ends up in hell because he's already seen an angel.

They settle in the bed, with him enclosing them in their arms.

“How was your day?” He asks, trying to beat the awkward silence.

“It was alright. I was busy all night studying.”

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking.. Uh, where did you come from when I saw you in the hallway?”

Their eyes seem to widen a bit as if caught in the act. “Oh, I just gave my friend my notes at the lobby.”

With no energy to pry further, he nods and moves to turn the movie volume up.

As the credits roll, you turn your head to face the body that is enclosing yours. He's fast asleep with his arm around your waist.

You admire him in this way, but you think it's too domestic. But you'd give anything to sleep every night and wake up to this every morning. But you know all too well that by the time the sun rises, like clockwork, he will rise and move so as not to wake you, but you always are.

With eyes closed, you silently beg for him not to go, and just this once, to stay. To hear him say he feels the same way you do and that all your doubts were just you rationalizing.

He is jolted awake by that familiar alarm. He carefully gets out of bed and never forgets the part of his routine of looking at you asleep, a picture that will stay with him all day. He notices the polaroid picture of you two on the night you met as he grabs his shirt from the top of your drawer. As he gazes out the window, he decides to be brave and make an exception today.

He returns beside you, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in your neck. And, ever so gently, he says,

“Just tell me you love me already. Please, please, please."

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction | Uses Your Insecurities Against You [Request]

`A/N: The anon is right by the way you’re all beautiful in every way possible, including the anon that requested this. I love you all! Stunning, beautiful peopl all of you! ~ M

CHAN: Insecurity: Clingy

Chan rubbed the bridge of his nose as he stared at the screen in front of him trying to grab some ideas from the air, he had been suffering with writer's block and it was starting to get to him. Normally if he was suffering with it he would call you over, you were his constant muse but this week he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. He was stressed from being put under pressure from his managers to finished a certain amount of songs, as well as making sure he and the rest of the boys were staying on top of their practice. Everything was just piling up on top of him and he didn't need you around to add to the pile, as much as he loved you being there he just needed some peace and quiet which he soon realised wasn't going to happen,

"Jisung told me you were feeling shitty so I bought your favourite snacks," Your voice that was normally heavenly to Chan only made him cringe as he realised you were here. 

"Hey babe, do you mind coming back later? I really need to get this done," He turned around on his chair to face you, trying to get you to leave quickly before things went south but you stood your ground, placing the small basket of food down onto the coffee table. 

"I also got your favourite hot drink, I figured you could use a pick me up." You began explaining everything that was in the basket but it only annoyed him more as you listed everything, ignoring his request for you to leave.

"We can sit on the sofa and eat while you relax for a while-"

"Fuck! Have you always been this clingy or is it just as of late?" Your heart sunk as you stared at Chan who was red in the face, it was now that you took in his dishevelled appearance it looked like he'd slept less than usual and he was clearly beating himself up over something so you let the comment pass. 

"I was just- I wanted to make sure you were okay," Your voice cracked as you tried to get over the comment, moving closer to Chan who simply rolled away from you on the chair and shook his head at you. 

"I want you to leave. You're so fucking clingy! I can't do anything without you being right there on top of me, it's exhausting having a partner who doesn't know what space is!" He was yelling loudly enough that the staff outside his studio had stopped speaking to hear what was happening in the office but you felt like you shrunk in size as he yelled at you so without another word you left him there. Chan knew how insecure you were about being considered clingy, your exes had all said the same thing to you so when you began dating Chan you told him about it, not wanting to have the same problem. You never thought, in a million years, that he of all people would use it against you.

(X)

Later that night there was a knock on your apartment door, thinking it was just the food you'd ordered for yourself you got up to answer it to see Chan standing there holding the basket of food with a giant smile on his face. 

"What do you want?" You asked plainly as you stared behind him, hoping your pizza would arrive so you could take it and shut the door. 

"To tell you how sorry I am," You scoffed rolling your eyes at him, 

"You know exactly how insecure about that I am and you still-" You began sobbing as you thought back on what he said, all he did was wrap his arms around you tightly. Pulling you into a hug, his hugs were the answers to all of your problems, no matter what you were going through as long as he hugged you everything else seemed to be insignificant to you.

"You know how insecure I am about that," You managed to say through sniffles as he kissed the top of your head, rubbing your lower back as he repeated how sorry he was to you. 

"Things with work have been stressful...I just- You weren't listening and I needed you out of there." He knew it was never going to make up for what he had unintentionally said to you but he was going, to be honest with you from the start and tell you what happened. 

"I'll make it up to you if you let me." He whispered as he continued to hold you in his arms, kissing your cheeks as you nodded. 

"Start by paying for my pizza," You sniffled, wiping your eyes when you saw the delivery man walking over in your direction, 

"Anything for you," Chan whispered, handing you the basket so he could get out the cash.

MINHO: Insecurity: Not having Friends (One of my many insecurities lol)

As soon as Minho heard your voice from the hall he rolled his head against the floor of the dance studio, 

"I thought it was just us today," Hyunjin said to Minho, confused as to why you were in the building when it was supposed to be a private practice between him and the boys this afternoon.

"It is," Minho grumbled as he glanced over at the glass panel on the door, you were stood talking with Nayeon so he wrecked his brain at some kind of excuse to get you to leave without being so mean about it. The boys were all stressed out, Kingdom was getting harder with every week so they were having to step up their game, every second of practice alone was important to them. With you there, they weren't able to get anything done. 

"Hey Babe, guys! I got you all some lunch and I figured we could hang out this afternoon?" You glanced over all of their faces and the boys turned to look at Minho for help, none of them wanted to be the ones to send you home but it needed to be done. It was probably best it came from your boyfriend rather than the boys who were just friends of yours, 

"Don't you have plans with any of your friends?" Seungmin tried to come across as friendly, hoping you would somehow get the hint that they wanted you to leave but Minho laughed loudly at the comment. 

"Y/n doesn't have friends, that's why they're always clinging onto us," The room seemed to fall into silence, all that could be heard was the air-conditioner and your rapid breathing as Minho used your number one insecurity against you in front of everybody knowing full well that it hurt you more than anything else he could have said to you. 

"Y/n!" Minho yelled out as you backed out of the room without another word to him, the other boys looking shocked at him as he called you to come back to him. 

"Give them some space...Y/n will just want some time to cool off," Chan said as he placed his hand on Minho's arm wanting him to calm down before he spoke to you but Minho couldn't concentrate on anything else but the look on your face as he said that to you. 

(X)

Minho stared at you from across your apartment as you waited for him to say something, he'd let himself in with his key but you weren't speaking. He'd been sitting on the sofa for an hour without either of you talking, he was just as stubborn as you were about things but he knew he was in the wrong this time. 

"Why did you say it?" That was all you wanted to know, why he'd felt the need to use one of the biggest things you were insecure about in front of everyone, laughing about it as if it was something funny when it wasn't. 

"I just- I need you out of there, I've been stressed and I know that will never be a suitable excuse but I was." You rolled your eyes at him, sitting down on the opposite sofa to him as you listened to what he was saying, 

"You could have told me, I would have left...I know how much stress you're all under for Kingdom," You whispered as you looked down at your hands, wondering if he really found it funny that you didn't have many of your own friends, you were new to Korea it wasn't as if you weren't trying. 

"What I said was out of order, nothing I can do or say will make up for it but I'm hoping you'll let me try...I never meant it, you know that." You knew deep down he hadn't meant it but you didn't want to forgive him so easily and seem so weak,

"Fine but...I want to be alone tonight, I just want some space." You whispered as you glanced up at him, he nodded and walked over to you giving you a kiss on your forehead. 

"Call me when you're ready to speak, I'm sorry." He whispered before you kissed him again, letting him go out of the door. 

CHANGBIN: Insecurity: School/College work

it out on one When Changbin walked into the dorms that night and heard you laughing loudly with the guys he frowned, you were supposed to be at home studying for your exams that were coming up not here with his friends. 

"Y/n? I thought you had an exam tomorrow." He said plainly as he walked into the room, you stopped laughing as you glanced over at him and nodded your head. 

"I do, I was just coming over for a break and I ran into Jisung," You looked over at Jisung who was still red in the face from laughing, Changbin grew with jealously as he watched the two of you giggling while trying not to laugh.

"This is why you keep failing the exams," He mumbled not thinking you could hear him as he walked into the kitchen but you heard him and your face fell, 

"What?" Your voice cracked as you waited for him to repeat what he had just said to you, nothing but the sound of the tap dripping could be heard. 

"Nothing." He grumbled, Jisung attempted to slowly leave the room without being noticed but you took his wrist in your hand, 

"What did he say Jisung?" Changbin stared at the younger member with a look that said he would kill him if he said anything. 

"I wasn't listening," It was clearly a lie but you let him go before grabbing your stuff, 

"That's great, you know. You confide in your boyfriend that one of your insecurities is that you failed an exam and he uses it against you," You said snarkily as you began heading towards the door of the dorms, wanting nothing more than to go home and be left alone but Changbin followed you out. 

"I didn't mean it, I was just-"

"You were just what?! Stressed? So, what? You thought. 'I know let me just take it out on my partner, who's already having a rough enough time without their boyfriend being rude about it'" You yelled before leaving the dorms, making sure to slam the door so he knew you didn't want him to follow you back home.

(X)

A week had passed since your little yelling match with Changbin, he'd been doing everything he could to say sorry, sending flowers, chocolates and teddies to your apartment to try and make up for everything he had done. Then there were the calls, voicemails and texts telling you how sorry he was for what he had said to you, that he hadn't meant it. You finally gave up on ignoring him when you realised you were both just stressed and it didn't mean you had to take it out on one another. 

"I'm sorry," You said in unison as you opened the door to your apartment to see him standing there with a bunch of flowers in his hands, 

"No, I'm sorry." You said in unison again before laughing with one another, Changbin put the flowers down on your kitchen side before bringing you into a hug and kissing the top of your head. 

"I promise that it won't happen again, I've been stressed at work and that's one of the worst excuses in the world but I'm really sorry-" He was cut off when you kissed him softly, telling him that it was fine, you'd been stressed out as well and you shouldn't have ignored him for as long as you had done. 

"How did your exam go?" He whispered as he pulled you into a tight hug, 

"I passed." You laughed softly, kissing his chest as he told you his plans for congratulating you. 

HYUNJIN: Insecurity: Not Being Good enough for him

You ran your hands down the outfit you were wearing for the award show the boys had invited you to go along with them to and you sighed, you looked great but you thought back on what everyone else was going to be wearing. All of those people around Hyunjin who were going to gain his attention within seconds, 

"You ready to go? Whoa," He whispered as he walked into your shared room to find you in the most stunning outfit he'd ever seen you in, he walked over and kissed you softly. 

"Looking good babe," He complimented but your heart dropped, "good" wasn't what you wanted, you wanted to look great. So great that he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off you all night, 

"I need to change, it's not right." You mumbled, heading into the wardrobe to try and find something that would meet your standards that you had set in your head. 

"You don't have to, you look good." You ignored him as you pulled out different options up to your body trying to find the best one, 

"I don't want to look good, I want to look great." You whispered not thinking he could hear you but he watched you from the door shaking his head, 

"You always look great, it doesn't matter what you wear," You looked over at him and shook your head this time, 

"But they're going to be people, that will look better...You will look at them and want to be with them instead." He rolled his eyes at you, leaving the wardrobe to go and wait for you outside not wanting to listen to this over and over again. 

"You always think that I'm going to leave you for someone else, why? You're all I want." He was getting tired of telling you this and you never believe him, it was like a broken record. 

"Maybe I should spend my time looking for someone who would be good for me, someone who wouldn't spend so much time getting ready," He snapped not meaning it, he was stressed from work and the award show but you came out of the wardrobe in sweats. 

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm not going. Spend the night finding someone that can be good enough for you," You remarked before looking yourself in the en-suite, ignoring him as he banged on the door for you to come out.

(X)  

Hyunjin walked into the room later that night to find you curled up in bed with his shirt on, he crawled in behind you and kissed your shoulder softly. 

"You know I didn't mean it right, you're perfect for me...Sometimes you're too good for me." He whispered as you pretended to be asleep, 

"I know you're not asleep because you're not doing that little snorting thing you do when you're sleeping," You began making the snorting noise as he laughed softly, kissing your cheeks and turning you around to face him,

"There is no one in the world I want, I only want you for the rest of my life," He admitted as he kissed your lips over and over again, telling you he was going to remind you every day how good you were until you began to believe and listen to him.

JISUNG: Insecurity: Don’t earn as much as him

It was no secret that you didn't earn as much as your boyfriend Jisung did but that was because he was famous and you just happened to serve in a restaurant and work in a bookstore in the week. 

"We're all going to split the bill," Jisung announced as he looked at the waiter who had asked had you and the boys wanted to pay for your meal that night, you looked at the receipt nervously thinking about how you were going to pay for it. 53000 won wasn't exactly the cheapest meal in the world, you figured you would all pay for the food you had ordered for yourselves which was why you'd gone for the cheapest items on the menu. 

"Well, Changbin is the birthday boy, we shouldn't make him pay. Let's split between the eight of us," Felix said as he bought out his wallet, you began to grow with anxiety as you realised you weren't going to have enough to cover it. 

"Here, mine and Y/n's half," You stared at the wad of cash that he placed down and then up at him as he smiled at you, kissing your lips. 

"I got you, baby, I know you don't have a lot so I figured this was my treat." Your mouth fell open as he said that in front of everyone and the boys awkwardly looked away from you, doing anything they could to not pay attention to you. 

"I can pay for my own meals," You whispered not wanting to make a scene in such a fancy place but Jisung didn't see a problem with him putting money down for the two of you. 

"I know you don't earn as much as me, it's no big deal it's just money." A hiss sounded from Changbin as he realised Jisung was saying the wrong thing right now so all you did was get up, 

"Well, this person who doesn't earn as much as you is leaving to catch a cab. Don't worry Jisung, I can afford it." You snapped, moving out of the restaurant leaving Jisung shocked as he watched after you, not seeing the problem in him offering to pay for your food. 

"Dude...Bringing up that they earn less than you? Harsh," Changbin whispered as he patted Jisung on the back before getting up to leave. 

(X)

Watching him from across the room you waited for Jisung to say something, he'd come to your apartment begging you to let him inside so you did. 

"What is it? Come to mock me some more for my jobs?" He sighed as he stepped closer to you, only for you to back up against the wall not wanting him to touch you right now. 

"You know I never meant it like that, I just...I thought I was doing a good thing." You shook your head as you rubbed your arms, 

"Doing a good thing would be if you didn't announce to everyone on our table that I make less than you," You mumbled as you thought back on the boys all staring at you, it felt as if you'd shrunk in size with the way they all stared at you.

"Babe please, I didn't mean to I thought I was doing a nice thing." You shook your head rubbing your temples as the headache you'd gotten increased, 

"Whatever Jisung, just...lock the door on your way out," You turned away from him only for him to take you by the hand and pull you close. 

"You know I would never do something that spiteful to you on purpose, I was stressed, it slipped out, I didn't mean to use it against you." You could tell by the look in his eyes how sorry he was and the thought of curling up beside him to fall asleep was too good to resist right now so you gently kissed his lips. 

"Next time we eat, I'm paying." You mumbled, dragging him  into the bedroom to get some well-earnt sleep.

FELIX: Insecurity: Emotionless/Cold hearted

According to everyone around you, you were that cold and heartless person that everyone tended to steer away from which was why it was so hard for you to believe someone like Felix, who was the living embodiment of sunshine, would want to date someone like you. 

"All I'm saying is, you could have been a little bit nicer." He mumbled as you stood in the dorms, Jisung had been crying about a fight he'd had with Chan earlier that day and you told him to grow up about it. 

"All I said was that he needed to grow up," You were confused as to why he was so angry over something so small, Jisung hadn't seemed that upset over it and it was him you were talking to. 

"You're so fucking emotionless! He was crying Y/n and you told him to grow up!" You felt your body slump as the words left his mouth, you could take that from everyone around you but not him, not Felix. Felix was the one that made all of your insecurities melt away, the one you felt happy with but now he'd just thrown that back in your face and it looked as though he hadn't even noticed. 

"How do you do it? How do you get away with being so cold to everyone around you, he was clearly hurt and needed our help and you fucking made it worse." You looked over at the dorm bathrooms wondering if you could make a run for it while he was ranting with his back to you so you did. Shutting the door as you slid down it, crying into your knees as you remembered the way Felix looked at you as if you were a monster. It wasn't that you were emotionless or cold to everyone, there were just some feelings you didn't understand. 

"Y/n! I'm sorry!" He banged on the door as soon as he realised where you were, trying to get you to come out as he heard you sniffling from the other side of it. 

"Please, I didn't mean any of it Y/n, you know that." You continued to cry into your knees, wanting nothing more than for him to leave and go into his room so you could sneak out and go home but he sat there on the other side of the door and waited. 

(X)

You finally emerged an hour later when Chan knocked on the door telling you he needed to use the bathroom, Felix was waiting for you with open arms but you attempted to move away from him, failing as he hugged you from behind. 

"I'm sorry, I was just stressed and overwhelmed with work, I shouldn't have taken it out on you," He whispered as he kissed your shoulder, watching you as you kept your eyes forward on Jisung who was talking to Chan about that day.

"You were right though, he did need to grow up...I shouldn't have said what I said to you and I am really sorry Y/n." You knew that no matter what Felix was going to keep saying sorry until you forgave him, 

"You're right there, I am-" He kissed your lips softly before you could tell him you agreed with yourself being emotionless, 

"I don't want to hear that, it's not true...Remember when I broke my ankle and you were there taking care of me," You nodded and he continued to list off everything you had done for him, the boys and all of your friends when they were sick or injured. 

"I don't want to hear that again," He kissed your nose and you nodded before kissing him softly to stop him from saying sorry again.

SEUNGMIN: Insecurity: Not successful like other people your age

Your eyes glanced over the wedding invitation sitting on your coffee table, yet another one of your friends were getting married and you were happy for them. You would always be happy for someone who was doing well in their life but everyone you knew seemed to be getting married, having babies, getting their dream carers all the while you seemed to be stuck in the same place moving nowhere in your life. 

"Why the long face?" Seungmin asked as he brought over your plate of food, the two of you were having your date night at your place tonight since the boys were all at the dorms and you wanted some alone time together.

"Nothing, I'm just wondering what to get my friend for her wedding," You said as you nodded over at the invitation, Seungmin nodded along with you and without thinking about it first, 

"Doesn't it make you feel bad that they're all so successful and you're just still in your small apartment," He didn't mean for it to come out the way it did, he'd been so stressed all week over something he needed to ask you that it came out a little too harsh. You dropped the fork onto your plate as you looked at him, wondering if he was joking or if he was serious but he looked at you confused. 

"What?"

"Well, I mean, they're all married, starting families, having these large homes and you're still in this crummy apartment." You couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, especially from Seungmin of all people, your boyfriend. The person that was supposed to be supportive and loving to you no matter what, it felt as though he was turning your back on you. 

"Crummy?" Your voice broke as he continued to eat, watching the TV as though he didn't notice what he had said was hurting you so badly, you got up without another word, placed your plate down and rushed to the bathroom. 

(X)

When you didn't come out after an hour Seungmin was beginning to worry, he knocked on the door when he heard sniffling coming from inside. 

"Babe? Everything okay?" You wiped your eyes as you hummed in response, reaching to the toilet to flush it before lying to him, claiming you were sick and he needed to go before he caught it.

"You were fine earlier," He mumbled confused as to where this sudden sickness had come from, he opened the door to find you leaning against the bathtub wiping your eyes. 

"Babe! What's wrong?" You scoffed at him, moving away as he tried to reach out and comfort you, 

"What's wrong?! Me and my crummy apartment!" You yelled as you moved away from him and went into the living room, 

"Baby, I didn't-"

"Didn't mean it? Because clearly, you did! Do you find it funny?" He reached out for you but you stepped away once again not wanting him to be near you right now,

"Let's just laugh at Y/n and the fact that they still live in a 'crummy' apartment, not married, not having kids and alone!" He realized as soon as you began crying again that his words had hurt you unintentionally, he hadn't meant it the way they'd come out.

"I didn't mean it like that, I've been stressed this week trying to-"

"So you took it out on me? When have we ever done that?" He shook his head, finally gabbing your hands as he made you look up at him, 

"I've been stressing myself out trying to ask you to move in with me, I-I found a house we could live in and I- I didn't know how to ask you and I thought that dropping hints would be a good way." You stared at him with your brows pressed together, 

"You thought telling me my apartment was crummy...was a hint?" He laughed awkwardly as he realised how stupid it seemed but you started laughing softly along with him somehow seeing the funny side of it as you shook your head. 

"Kim Seungmin, you are the most strangest, perfect boyfriend in the world." You whispered kissing him softly, 

"Yes, I'll move in with you."

JEONGIN: Insecurity: Worried He doesn’t Love you

"You were flirting with her," You scoffed as you stood in one of the empty conference rooms that were in the JYP building, Jeongin rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration listening to what you were claiming he was doing.

"I was talking to her, she's like a younger sister to me." He explained you'd walked into the building to find him standing extremely close to Lia from itzy and it sent jealousy running through your veins. It wasn't as if you didn't trust Jeongin, you just found it incredibly difficult to see him with someone like Lia and not be attracted to her,

"You're just always too jealous to see what's in front of you! Why would I flirt with her when I'm with you?" You stared at him as he called you jealous, you looked down at your hands and not knowing what to say to him. 

"You're always so worried that I don't love you! Do you know how tiring it is to have to remind you all the time?" You felt a pang in your heart as he yelled at you, people turning to look through the glass door as they heard the youngest member yelling. 

"Well if it's so tiring why do you keep doing it?!" You yelled back only for him to shake his head and shrug his shoulders, 

"I don't know," Your heart, felt as though it had fallen onto the floor and crashed into a million tiny pieces right in front of him and it was as though he didn't care to notice. 

"You don't know? So...Why don't we just break up?" Your voice was quieter, hoping he would realise you were upset about this and that he would tell you he didn't mean it but he nodded his head, 

"Fine." Your breath caught in your throat as he stormed out of the room leaving you alone to try and gather up everything that had just happened in the room while he seemed to go off as though nothing had happened. 

(X)

When Jeongin walked into the dorms later that night the last thing he expected to find was you packing everything up into a bag with tears gushing down your cheeks. 

"Sorry, I thought I would be done before you got back," You sniffled, wiping your eyes and side-stepping out of the room telling him you would come back for the rest of your stuff when he wasn't at home.

"What are you talking about? Why are you taking your stuff?" You ignored him as you struggled to take the key to the dorms off your keys, dropping them all onto the floor and crying as you saw him bending down for them. 

"We broke up. Remember? You didn't want the hassle of telling me you loved me so we broke up," You couldn't bring yourself to look at him but he tilted your head up to look at him and shook his head, 

"I was just mad, I didn't mean it Y/n...I would never break up with you over that, I've just been stressed and then the whole jealousy thing came out and I just...I'm really sorry," He whispered leaning forward to kiss your lips softly, repeating over and over how much he loved you in every way possible, kissing you all over your face as he pulled you back into his dorm room so you could unpack your bag. 

Tagline: @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @minholuvs​

[annebelle93]

Obey me boys react to an MC with a Th.D

You just finished your Th.D (Theology and religious studies Doctorate), younger of the class and now you’ve been struggling a bit to decide on what to write. Lucky you, you wake up in devildom, surrounded by all of the figures you’ve been reading about for the last years.

Lucifer

Is a bit impressed at first. You’re so young and already speak Latin? Maybe this exchange won’t be a total waste of time

Then he is annoyed

You just ask SO. MANY. QUESTIONS.

“MC, I swear to Diavolo, if you ask me one more time to teach you Sumeric I’ll lock you in your room!”

After you pester him over and over again with questions, he secretly asks Barbatos to find him a copy of your thesis

It’s about him. 300 pages of him.

The man is intrigued.

“Did you really spent three years writing about me?”

“Yeah, man” you shrug “the history f***ed you up. I always thought you were a much more complex character then described in the Bible”

He will teach you Sumeric now. And ancient Latin. And whatever dead language you ask him.

Honestly, he will marry you if you ask him nicely enough

Mammon

He doesn’t like you very much at first

Why do you use so many big words? It’s confusing

Very disappointed on how little you know about him compared to his brothers

“What do ya mean not enough lore?”

“I’ll show ya lore”

Lucifer may or may not have to “rescue” you from field trips to the fourth circle

Levi

Snake boy is flustered

You know him?

You actually like his stories?

You are i-i-interested in the g-great admiral?

“Why should I share my stories with a normie like you?”

Is very confused by you and he doesn’t like to be confused, so he keeps his distance

Until you slide a copy of an article you wrote about “Leviathan through cultures: similarities and idiosyncrasy”

You are a big obsessed nerd like him, only he likes video games and you books (don’t get me wrong, you like playing too, you just suck at it)

“I’m your Ruri-chan” he whispers after reading it

“Come with me! I’ll tell you every thing you need to know!” *anime pose*

Satan

HE. LOVES. YOU.

Finally someone who understands the beauty of spending hours reading in a library

At first was a bit bothered to always find someone else using the library

But you are very quiet when you concentrate

And you concentrate. For hours.

Very different from your overall hyper and impulsive behavior

Will happily explain to you all the inconsistencies in human literature

His memory is amazing, so he remembers every single event

Is very eager to explain why Satanás is far superior in literature and not at all the same character as Lucifer

“Why the humans always get it confused? It’s not that hard” procedes to give a very hard explanation

By the end of the program your research is so detailed and refined you can’t even publish it. No one will believe THAT level of details.

Asmo

Like Mammon, doesn’t like you at first.

Goes batshit crazy when you ask him why he doesn’t have three heads

“You appear one time to one human as an ugly beast after loosing a bet and then suddenly everyone thinks you are ugly!”

Demands you write at least one article proving to the humans he is beautiful

Will send you 7728372 selfies for you to use on the article

Likes to braid your hair and do your nails while you study, because “by Diavolo, you can be quiet when you focus!”

Is constantly worried about you because you don’t stop studying to drink water, eat or exercise

“Who is going to spread my beauty to the humans if you die?”

Secretly he just worries about you, nothing to do with spreading his beauty

Beel

Is VERY confused by you.

He didn’t ever remember he was once a god after he fell, how do you?

“What do you mean Mammon is seen as a part of me? Mammon is Mammon, I’m Beel”

Eventually he begins to enjoy listening to you talk about your research. You are very passionate about it and he enjoys when people like his brothers

Was upset when you reminded him about the god thing, because he recalled humans used to give him food offerings all of the time and now they don’t

You walk around with food on your pockets now

Belphie

Doesn’t like you. Doesn’t dislike you. You are just there.

Thinks you’re weird for writing 300 pages about Lucifer. Who would want to know that much about him?

Eventually he finds out you like to cuddle when you read in bed and “whatever, you are warm, I’m sleepy. I’ll indulge you”

He is like a big cat around your legs while you read

One day he peaks at what you are writing now

It’s about Lilith and how much of a power figure she is through history

You don’t see her as a fragile little girl

He will hide his face, he can’t let you see him emotional after all

But he’s is much more affectionate. He’ll even let you run your fingers through his hair now

Will tell you everything about his sister

And I mean EVERYTHING.

The rest of the boys are here now!

[skyeet-the-writer]

The Love Among Us

Chapter 1-- I’d Never Snitch On Daddy

so i haven’t seen many corpse husband x reader stories on here, so i decided to upload one myself. i’ve been watching jacksepticeye’s among us videos and when i heard corpse talk for the first time, i was like, “hol up” and now i’ve been obsessed with him. also, go stream his music on spotify, it’s amazing. enjoy! x. 

 corpse husband x female!reader

summary: while playing among us, y/n watches corpse kill felix in o2. when his body is reported, however, she doesn’t tell who killed him. 

 word count: ~3.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of death (not real death), mentions of murder (not real murder)

EDIT: before i wrote this and after i published it, i did not know that corpse did not like to be referred to as “daddy”. had i known this, i would have not even thought of posting this. and since i know now, i won’t refer to him as such in the future. thank you. (10/19/2020)

EDIT 2: this is the first part to my corpse x reader series. i will be adding chapters as we go!

next>

4 rounds before the incident

“I was in coms with PJ!” Sean exclaims. 

“He is doing the liar voice!” Felix shouts with a laugh. 

“I’m not,” Sean tries to say, but everyone talks over him and the voting time ends. Everyone left alive, though it was only four people, had all voted for him and he yells at them as he gets ejected. 

stinky was not the imposter

2 imposters remain

The round ends and everyone unmutes themselves. 

“Lizzie, you saw Felix kill me and you did nothing!” Roomie yells as soon as the round ends and the imposters are revealed. 

“Yeah, because I was the other imposter.”

“Oh. Okay, well that makes sense.”

Everyone laughs and Ken starts the round again. 

“Wait, can I invite y/n to play? She’s doing her twenty-four-hour stream and she just finished playing Monopoly with Mark, Bob, and Wade,” says Lizzie, looking down at her phone as they all appear back in the waiting room. 

“Yes,” Corpse blurts out and there are a few laughs and chuckles. 

“You were quick to answer, Corpse,” Sean teases. 

“Shut up,” Corpse mumbles and there are even more laughs. 

Lizzie smiles and taps into her phone. “I’m gonna invite her.”

~

“I can’t believe that you actually made that deal, y/n,” Wade is telling you after ending the second round of Monopoly that you’ve played with them. 

You smile and cross your legs on your chair. “Look, I was going bankrupt and it seemed good at the time. Besides, Mark was going to win anyway, he owned half of the board.” Your phone buzzes beside you on your desk and you pick it up. “Lizzie texted me.” There’s a sound effect that plays in your headset and you look up at your screen and smile. “Thanks to _lorieplays _for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot. Thank you so much.”

“Do you want to play another round?” Marks asks. 

You shake your head, reading the text from your friend in England. “No, I don’t want to lose to you again.” You laugh. “Nah, Lizzie wants me to play Among Us with her and a few others. It was fun playing with you guys.”

“It was even though you took all of my money,” Bob snaps. 

You laugh. “Yeah, yeah. See you guys later.”

“Bye,” says Mark.

“See y--” Wade begins but you cut him off when you disconnect from the call. 

“Oops.” You put a hand over your mouth and laugh. “Sorry, Wade. Okay.” You straighten up and glance over everything, making sure it’s all working properly. “I have to pee and I think my roommate ordered pizza, so we’ll be back after this short break. Enjoy this live feed of my pet rats.” You giggle and switch the stream over to a view of your two rats in their cage where you have a camera set up. You take your headset off and head out of your recording room. 

Every two months, you have a twenty-four-hour livestream where you play games with your friends from all around the world. Despite being only twenty-five, your Youtube channel had grown exponentially in the past three years and you’ve had the chance to meet lots of other Youtubers like Markiplier, PewDiePie, and your close friend, LDShadowLady. 

Currently, you’re on hour twenty of twenty-four and you’re beginning to feel the effects of not sleeping for a whole day. You had been drinking coffee and energy drinks for the past four hours and that seemed to perk you up for two hours max. But your roommate had ordered pizza and that would hopefully wake you up. 

After going to the bathroom and grabbing an entire box of pizza, you return to your recording room and sit down. You put your headset back on and eat a slice of pizza before switching the views back to you. “And we’re back. I hope you guys enjoyed my rats because I don’t. They keep me up at night.”

You read a comment while loading up Among Us and laugh. “No, they’re not dead. They’re sleeping. They do that a lot when they’re not fighting.” 

When you finally get into the game and entire the code, you spawn in. You also quickly join the Discord chat and wince when nearly ten voices hit you at once. 

“y/n!” exclaims Lizzie and the other voices die down for a moment before rising to greet you. 

You wince again but laugh. “Jesus, you guys are loud. Hey, Lizzie.” You move your character to the customize tab and go to try and switch your color. But then you frown and realize that you’re stuck with being dark blue. “Damn, I wanted to be white.”

“Do you want to switch?” Corpse asks. 

Your eyes widen you your stomach flips. You hadn’t noticed Corpse was in this game. Immediately, your chat became flooded with keyboard smashing and lots of “omg my shipp” and “y/n rlly said ‘anna oop-’” 

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind,” you manage to stutter out and take a bite of pizza as Corpse’s player comes over and the white option becomes available. You select it and also select the goggles in the hats menu. 

“How’s your stream going?” asks Sean. 

You shrug. “Pretty good. I’m super tired, though. I literally almost fell asleep while playing Monopoly with Mark, Wade, and Bob.”

“You went to college, right?” You’re pretty sure that’s Roomie. 

“Yep,” you affirm with a nod even though they can’t see you. “You’d think that those all-nighters writing papers and studying for finals would make me able to do this.”

There’s a laugh in the group and the round starts.

3 rounds before the incident

You scratch your eyebrow and sigh in relief when you’re the crewmate. You mute yourself and slide up in your chair. 

“I like being the crewmate,” you say, heading towards admin as a habit. “It’s a lot less stressful than being imposter.”

After doing your tasks in admin and fueling the engines, you stumble across a dead body in the lower engine and a vent closing. 

“Oh,” you say, and press the report button. You unmute yourself and begin with, “So I saw a vent close but I didn’t see who went in.”

“Who died?” asks Lizzie. 

“Felix,” says Sean. 

You smirk. “It’s always yellow that dies first.”

“Where was the body?” Ken asks. 

“Lower engine,” you reply. 

“I was in medbay with Corpse doing the scan so it wasn’t him,” PJ says and Corpse makes a noise of confirmation. 

This makes your cheeks heat up and you smack a hand over your mouth. Your chat explodes again but you decide to ignore it. 

“And I was doing wires in cafeteria,” Lizzie says. 

“Sean, where were you?” 

“I was in reactor doing the simon says thing,” he answers. 

You sigh. “I hate that one. What about you, Ken?”

“I was with Roomie in electrical doing the power thing. You know, the one where you have to divert it somewhere else.”

“So do we skip then?” asks Lizzie. 

“No one is super sus, so I’m going to skip,” you answer. 

When no one is ejected, you mute yourself again. “I dunno why, but Sean seems pretty sus. Because I didn’t see him on the way down from upper engine. But I guess he could have gotten there in time.” You shrug and run over to the trash chute in the cafeteria. “RIP to Felix, though.”

After doing the trash there, you head down to storage, running into Corpse doing the wires in there. You wait there to clear him and once you do, you run a few circles around him to get his attention and he follows you over to the trash in storage and watches you do that. After that, the two of you head over to electric together and do wires there. 

Suddenly, there’s a body reported and you unmute yourself. 

“Sean just killed Lizzie in front of me!” exclaims PJ. 

“PJ killed Lizzie,” Sean retorts, flipping the blame. “I watched it, he didn’t realize I was there and murdered her.”

“I watched PJ do the scan in medbay, he’s cleared,” Corpse says and you find yourself smiling for no reason. “Sean, you killed Lizzie.”

“I knew he was sus,” you say, grabbing another piece of pizza. You look at the box and your eyes widen. Had you really already eaten half of it?

“Wait wait, how am I sus?” Sean asks. 

You take a moment to swallow. “Because when I was doing fuel earlier, I was running down from upper engine and didn’t see you in reactor. Sure, maybe you could have gotten there earlier, but it was super weird.” 

The discussion time ends and PJ immediately goes to vote for Sean as well as you, Corpse, and everyone else still alive. Sean ends up getting ejected. 

stinky was an imposter 

1 imposter remains

“You’re such a detective, y/n,” Sean says when he gets ejected. 

You laugh. “I just play this game too much.” You then mute yourself and smile. “I am a genius.” 

You end up finishing your tasks quickly after that and then stand in the cafeteria and eat another piece of pizza and read some of the chat. 

“’ What am I going to do after this?’ I don’t know. I might play some Minecraft. Should I have a poll on Twitter? I’m stuck between public Among Us games, Minecraft, and taking random quizzes on Buzzfeed.” You smile and hear another sound effect and something pops up on the screen. “Thank you to coochie man for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot.” You laugh at their name. “I love your name, by the way.” 

There’s some rattling in the cage behind you and you turn around to see one of your rats drinking water. You turn back to the chat and read another comment. “’ Do you have a crush on Corpse?’” You blush and smile, biting your lip. “I mean, his voice is hot. I’ve never met him since he lives in San Diego and I live in h/t, but yeah, I guess I do. I’ve been listening to his music for the past few days and it’s really good, you guys should go check it out.”

You look up and unmute yourself when a body is reported. “Who died?” you ask. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you already done with your tasks, y/n?” Corpse asks. 

God, even the way he says your name is making you blush. “Yeah, I get them done quick.”

“She does that,” says Lizzie, “She always gets her tasks done quick.”

“Ken is dead by the way,” says Roomie and your snort, smacking a hand over your mouth. “I found him in the hallway by navigation. Where was everyone else?”

“I was in cafeteria doing nothing,” you say, leaning back in your chair and spinning around just a little. “I think I saw PJ downloading while I was in there, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, I was downloading,” says Ken. 

After more discussion, Corpse points out that Jaiden had been following him and it looked like she had been faking tasks. 

“No I haven’t,” she says. 

“That sounds like something the imposter would say,” you hum with a smirk. “That’s pretty sus, Jaiden.”

Everyone else agrees and you all end up voting Jaiden out. 

jaiden was the imposter

0 imposters remain

You cheer as the round ends and a blue victory screen pops up for the crewmates. “Good game, guys,” you say and play again, waiting for the host. 

~

1 round before the incident 

“Oh my god, I’m imposter again?” you groan and sigh when you spawn back in. “I was just imposter, I don’t want to be it again. I’m so bad at it,”

After another short round of you and Felix losing to the crewmates, you all agreed to play two more rounds before Sean had to leave. So you move your character to admin where PJ is and fake the card swipe before moving over to the admin security thing where you could see who was around where. Luckily, no one appeared to be near admin, so you quickly kill PJ and escape through the vent and come out through medbay. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper over and over, running down to storage. “That was clean.” You fake getting fuel and go back up to the upper engine. 

When PJ’s body is reported, you see that your fellow imposter, Sean, had reported it. You stay silent for most of the round and only say that you were in the fuel area when it was reported. 

“Yeah, I saw her run past electrical earlier,” Corpse says. You blush and glance at your exploding chat and shake your head. 

After everyone skips the round, you mute yourself once more and head towards navigation. “I hate this.” You drag the last syllable and watch Lizzie enter the room. You wait a moment before walking towards her and killing her, jumping into one of the vents. You let out a sigh and flex your fingers. “I’m so stressed.” You exit out of the vent into shields and your heart stops when you see someone else in there but you realize that it’s the other imposter, Sean, and you relax. 

You run past him and go to the trash compartments and pretend to unload those. And that’s how the rest of the round goes. You kill someone, someone reports it and you vote someone off. Eventually, you and Sean do a double kill and end up winning the round.

You unmute yourself. 

“Let’s go!” Sean exclaims and you smile. 

“I can’t believe you killed me, y/n!” shouts Lizzie. “I thought we were friends.”

You laugh. “There are no friends in this game. I’m not loyal to anyone in this game. You could be my best friend and I would fucking murder you.”

“That’s cold,” says Roomie as everyone else spawns back in. 

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“Wait, PJ disconnected,” says Sean, and you all end up waiting for him to rejoin. 

In that time, you look at your chat and say, “Hey, do you guys have any questions for who I’m playing with. I’m asking you, chat.”

“I swear if someone asks about my hands, I’m leaving,” Corpse says and everyone laughs. 

You laugh louder when you read a comment and read it aloud, “_Ironlady _says that you should be a hand model, Corpse.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you hear Corpse say over everyone laughing. 

“No, stay!” you exclaim, trying not to laugh. “C’mon, don’t leave.”

He sighs deeply and your brain goes fuzzy. “Fine. I’ll stay for you.”

You beam and your tummy turns. You ignore the whistles and remarks from everyone else and stand beside Corpse. You suddenly wish that the little bean characters could hold hands. 

When PJ joins the server again, Ken starts the round and you cross your fingers, hoping to get crewmate. 

0 rounds before the incident

You mute yourself and sigh when you’re a crewmate. “Thank god.” You let out a breath and go over to admin with everyone else. You swipe your card and go to the cafeteria to do some wires there. 

The game turns out to be rather uneventful. A few people die and two people are voted off before the game gets truly interesting. And that happens when you walk in on Corpse and Felix. 

“I’ve had this song stuck in my head for days,” you’re saying, walking from electrical over to O2. “And I can’t get it out of my head. Maybe singing it will help.” You hum the first part. “Don't go in there, you'll become one. Freaky creatures, monster party. Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers, tails in tethers. Turn the lights off. Bend the nightmare, you control it. Artful dodger, easy does it. Shut the closet, get under the covers. Snakes and lovers. Turn the lights off.” You do a little dance for a moment and continue hum the song, glancing at the chat as you go towards O2 after doing wires in storage. 

“Like, I know the song, it’s just been stuck in my head,” you explain. “And it kind of annoys me--”

But you stop as you enter O2 and watch Corpse murder Felix. Neither one of you move and you don’t know what to do. “Uhhh.” 

Then, without thinking, you turn straight around and make your way away from the scene of the murder. “I didn’t see anything!” you shout to no one. “I suddenly can’t see who murdered Felix.” You smack a hand over your mouth and stand in the middle of a hallway. “Oh my god, what do I do? I don’t want to snitch on Corpse, he’s hot.” You scratch the back of your neck and shrug, continuing on to reactor. “I didn’t see anything.”

You’re in the middle of doing the simon says in reactor when Felix’s body is reported. You unmute yourself and fidget with the sleeve of your hoodie. You know exactly who killed Felix. 

“--was in O2,” says Jaiden and you focus back into the conversation. “And I didn’t see anyone around.”

“I saw you heading that way, y/n, but I know it wasn’t you because I saw you do the trash in storage.”

You look at the screen when Sean talks to you and you chew your lip. “I know who killed Felix.”

“Who?” asks almost everyone at the same time. 

You close your eyes and swallow. It’s just a game, why are you taking this so seriously? Suddenly, a song lyric pops into your head and your stomach flips. You imagine yourself saying it and no one knows who you mean except for him. 

You open your eyes. “I’d never snitch on daddy.”

There’s a laugh in the chat and you blush fiercely, your livestream chat blowing up once again.

“I think we know who it is, then,” says Sean, laughing. 

“Yeah,” agrees Lizzie and your eyes widen. 

“Wait, what?” you ask, watching everyone vote almost as soon as the discussion time ends. “Wait, hang on, who--”

“We know who you’re talking about, y/n,” PJ tells you. 

You vote for yourself and your brain goes blank as you see that everyone voted for Corpse. He even voted for himself. They knew. They all _knew _about your feelings for Corpse. 

The round ends with Corpse being voted out and the crewmates win. There’s some talking, but you stay on the victory screen. You’re trying to decide if your mad or embarrassed or both. 

“I didn’t know you’d say that, y/n,” Corpse says, effectively breaking you out of your trance. “I thought you were gonna snitch on me.”

“You heard her,” teases Lizzie and you can tell she’s grinning. “She’d never snitch on you, Corpse.”

He laughs and you feel something in a certain place. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die of embarrassment.” You put your face in your hands, listening to your friends tease you in the chat. You suddenly want to jump out your window and run into traffic. 

“Don’t die,” comes Corpse’s voice through the onslaught of teasing. “I’ll be sad.”

“Fuck!” you shout and slam your hand on your desk, shaking your equipment and scaring your rats. “I’m so sorry, Corpse, that was really weird, I--”

“Stop.” He interrupts you and the chat goes silent and you look up at the screen even though you can’t see him. “It’s okay. It was funny.”

Your eyes widen and then narrow. Funny? He thought what you said was funny? How could he think it was funny?

But then he speaks again and he sounds oddly flustered. “Uh, I gotta go. Um, it was fun playing with you guys. Bye, y/n.”

“Bye Cor--” but then he disconnects and you’re left talking to no one. “--pse.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Felix breaks it. “I can’t believe you just watched me die and didn’t do anything about it.”

There are some laughs and you smile faintly, rejoining the game. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“Are you okay, y/n?” asks Lizzie. 

You blush and swallow. “I don’t know. God, I’m so weird.” You run a hand through your hair and adjust your headphones

“No, you’re not,” Roomie assures you. “He has a crush on you, too.”

Your eyes widen and you scoot up in your chair. “He does?”

“I mean, he called you pretty once during a game and said that he watches your videos a lot, so maybe.”

You groan and sink in your chair. “I’m gonna go, I need to run into traffic now.”

A few people laugh or chuckle and Lizzie asks you if you’re actually going to leave. 

“Yeah,” you tell her. “But not to run into traffic. I’m going to go play Minecraft to soothe myself.”

“Aw.” You can practically hear her frown. “Okay. Bye, y/n.”

“Good luck with your stream,” Ken tells you. 

You grin. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

When you exit the game and leave the chat, you scream. You actually scream and it’s loud. Your roommate even knocks on your door, asking if you’re okay. 

You look at them and nod. “Yeah, totally fine. Probably about to have a mental breakdown, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” they say and lean on the doorframe. “But I’m not cutting bangs for you again.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, okay, fine.” They leave and you turn back to your stream, feeling like you’re about to cry. Corpse knows you have a crush on him. And it seems like he has one on you as well, but now you’re embarrassed because you called him ‘daddy’ on stream.

You rub your eyes. “Well, now I know what’ll be streaming on Twitter tonight,” you tell the chat. 

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Pairing: classmate!jaehyun x webcam model!f.reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, cum play, exhibitionism

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: requested by a lovely anon, hope you like it, and sorry it took so long!

*Disclaimer: I am not well-versed in webcam shows and did my research through wiki so I hope it makes sense :)

“Y/N, you wanna come out for a drink with us tonight?”

The class had just finished and you were packing up your things when Yuna came by to ask you if you wanted to go out with them.

“Sorry guys, I gotta start on that paper tonight.”

“Aw come on, it’s Friday night!” Yuna pouted, but you just shook your head.

“You know me, if I don’t start something right away I’ll procrastinate and wait till the last minute,” you shrugged. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Jaehyun, the guy you’d been crushing on, standing amongst your group of friends. You pulled Yuna closer to you.

“Is Jaehyun going?” you whispered into her ear.

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. “Now you wanna come along, don’t you?”

You were torn. You absolutely would’ve loved the chance to get to know Jaehyun better since you never had a chance during class, and outside of it you were too busy with your studies and your cam shows. But Friday nights were your biggest nights, and if you didn’t stream tonight you’d lose out on a huge payday.

“Ugh, I can’t,” you reluctantly declined, “I’m sorry, guys.”

Yuna just shrugged. “Yeah, you’ll be sorry alright.” She turned around, hooking her arm through Jaehyun’s and pulling him away. She turned back to look at you and smiled innocently, while you just gave her the finger before walking away.

---

“Well, that’s all for tonight everyone, thanks for coming by.”

You saluted the camera and blew a kiss, your signature goodbye, as the last messages in the chat came in wishing you a good night and thanking you for the show. You couldn’t help but notice that one of your favorite viewers, peachyvalentine77, hadn’t joined at all that night. He was one of your best tippers, one of your sweetest and most polite customers, and he almost never missed a show.

You went into the bathroom to get yourself cleaned up, but your mind wandered to Jaehyun, wondering what he was doing while out with your friends. You knew Yuna had just been teasing you by linking arms with him, it was her way of trying to persuade you and on any other day it would have worked. As it was, you’d made a killing tonight, all of the money you made paying for the astronomical fees your college was charging you. If it weren’t for your cam shows, you wouldn’t have been able to afford to go to college in the first place.

Sighing to yourself, you went about thinking what Jaehyun must be like, if he was as sweet as he seemed, while you decided to paint your nails a vivid blue. You wondered mindlessly if Jaehyun liked blue, if he maybe thought your hands were pretty, or most importantly, what he might think if he found out you were a cam girl.

---

Saturday nights were your next busiest nights, and you were pleased to see peachyvalentine77 sign on like he normally did.

Pv77: hi gorgeous

Me: oh you’re here! Missed you yesterday

Pv77: sorry had plans

Pv77: missed you though

He sent more messages throughout the show like he always did, praising you and showering you with compliments. He also tipped really well, as usual, right up until the show ended.

Pv77: i’ll see you again soon gorgeous

Pv77: and i love your nails btw

Pv77: blue is my fav color :)

You smiled at his message, happy to have impressed him.

---

The following Monday you were exhausted in class, your friends thinking you were studying too hard but really it was too many late night cam shows. You noticed Jaehyun looking at you curiously, and you figured you must have looked really bad for him to notice. He kept glancing at you during class, and oddly enough, kept staring at your fingers. When class was over, you were packing up your stuff slowly, your energy lagging, when he came up to you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted you, and you were slightly shocked that he knew your name, but you figured Yuna had probably told him.

“Hi, Jaehyun,” you answered, somewhat shyly because he was looking at you quite intensely.

“Can I… ask you a question?” he was hesitant in how he asked, but his eyes felt like they were boring into your face.

“Sure,” you answered, wondering what he was going to ask you, and feeling very self-conscious with the way he was looking at you.

“By the way,” he started casually, pointing to your nails, “blue is my favorite color.”

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, as his gaze slowly went from your nails to your face. You knew then you were caught, and you looked at each other in shocked surprise.

“You’re… peachyvalentine77?” you whispered, your hand going up to your mouth.

“And you’re Y/N-cam?” the look of shock on his face slowly changed as his suspicion was confirmed, a wide smile spreading that made his dimples extra deep. “Oh wow, I can’t believe it.”

Mortification quickly took over, as you realized you had just been found out, by your crush no less. You couldn’t have him spreading this news, especially to your friend group.

“Oh my god, Jaehyun, you can’t tell anyone about this!” you started to plead with him, putting your hands together in a supplicating gesture.

He looked at you quizzically, before a slow smile spread across his face. “Absolutely, my lips are sealed.” He made the motion of zipping up his lips but not before he looked at you with a sly grin. “But…”

“But what?” you didn’t like where this was going, the look on his face starting to alarm you.

“But my silence comes at a price.”

You knew it, you knew it was too good to be true, your good fortune had run out and now you were going to be blackmailed, by the one guy you were hoping to date. You were too busy calculating how many more shows you had to do to be able to pay him when you realized he was looking at you expectantly.

“Okay, what’s your price,” you sighed, willing to pay anything to have your secret kept.

“Well, I was actually thinking of something that would benefit both of us,” he began, and he really got your attention then. You looked at him to see if he was playing with you, but he had a pretty sincere, if a little mischievous, look on his face.

“And what’s that?” you asked suspiciously.

He leaned in closer, and at that distance you could see the gold specks amongst the brown of his irises, and smell the heady scent of his cologne. “How about we do a show… together.”

You blinked a few times, unsure if you heard him correctly, but he was still regarding you questioningly. “Are you serious, Jaehyun? Don’t joke about this stuff.”

He looked taken aback. “Of course I’m serious. I think we should do a show together.”

“Like have sex? On camera?” you clarified, and he nodded, smiling at your realization. You thought about it, while looking at his gorgeous face, and all of a sudden you were thinking about how he would feel inside you and just like that your pussy made your decision for you.

“Okay, I’m in.”

---

Jaehyun came over on a Friday night, easily your busiest night, and therefore he figured you’d make a killing if you had sex on camera. He showed up at your place looking, and smelling, absolutely delicious, and you almost wanted to jump his bones right then and there and forget about the cam show altogether. But he was perfectly professional, helping you set up the camera and lighting to get everything just right.

“Ready?” you asked, when there was nothing left to do but start the show. You couldn’t help but be nervous, since it was your first time having sex on camera, and your first time having sex with Jaehyun. He noticed your apprehension, taking your hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

“I’m ready,” he responded, looking you in the eye, “I got you, okay? Anytime you want to stop, just squeeze my hand, okay?” He squeezed your hand to demonstrate what you should do, and you nodded, grateful for his understanding.

“Okay, here we go.” You started the camera, and did your customary greeting. You noticed people logging into the chat, and once you had a good number going you made your announcement.

“Everyone, today is a special show, since we have a special guest.” You held out your hand, and Jaehyun joined you, the camera set up so your faces wouldn’t be shown. “This is my friend, we’ll call him Jay.”

The chat lit up, and tips started to pour in, no doubt in anticipation of what was to come. You and Jaehyun shared surprised yet satisfied looks.

“I’m sure you’ve all guessed what’s going to happen today, so let’s get to it.” You led Jaehyun to the bed, and positioned yourselves so that the camera wouldn’t capture your faces.

“Are you ready?” he whispered in your ear, while rubbing your sides gently with his hands. His touch ignited something in you, and you nodded, biting your lip as you got into position. “I’ll go slow.”

You were wearing crotchless panties, so all he had to do was reach down between your legs, rubbing your pussy with his fingers. He groaned when he found you wet, and the sound just made you want him more, your hands coming up to grip his arms as he fingered you.

“Mmm,” you moaned, already losing yourself to his touch. You noticed the prominent bulge in his Calvin Kleins, so you rubbed him over the fabric, eliciting more beautiful sounds from his mouth. 

“Oh god, Jay, I need you inside me right now.” You had wanted to go slow, you had meant to go slow, but he was driving you crazy with how sexy he was. You took a glance at the screen and saw the tips still pouring in.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, “I was thinking we should drag this out.”

“I can’t,” you responded honestly, “I just really want you to fuck me right now.”

His eyes grew dark at your admission, and he removed his fingers from you, pulling his boxers down and pumping his cock as he stared down at you. You bit your lip as you watched him, everything in slow motion as he knelt between your legs and placed the tip of his cock at your entrance. You took a moment to look over at the monitor, tips lighting up the screen, as his cock parted you. 

Your mouth opened in a wordless scream, back arching off the bed as he entered you, his size not something your body was accustomed to. You grasped at the sheets, as he inched slowly inside you, his face intense as he watched your reaction.

“Can you take my cock?” he asked, voice husky, and you could only nod, “you’re so fucking tight, but your pussy is taking me so well.”

His dirty talk was heightening your arousal, and you couldn’t help but squeeze him, the walls of your pussy contracting around his cock. He hissed at the feeling, before he bottomed out with one hard thrust.

You screamed, clutching to the sheets as he started to pound into you, grunting with each thrust.

“You like it, baby?” he groaned, “show everyone how much you like my cock.”

You moaned and thrashed, the pleasure he was giving you sending you into a frenzy. “Oh, oh fuck, yes, yes, your cock feels so good inside me.” You had a vague notion that you were probably blabbering, but the way he was rutting into you was making you crazy.

“Jay! Oh my god, yes! Just like that, fuck me just like that,” you went on, grabbing onto his back now and digging your nails in as he fucked you, the bed shaking from his harsh thrusts.

“You’re so good for me, baby, your pussy was made for me,” he cooed, reaching down to squeeze your breasts over the lace of your bra. You moaned when he pulled the fabric down and pinched your nipple, moaned louder when he tugged lightly on the hardened bud. “So good,” he whispered, ducking his head down quickly so he could suck on your nipple, making sure his face couldn’t be seen on camera.

You moaned even louder when he tugged at your nipple lightly with his teeth, all while pounding into you at an insane pace.

“Jay, you’re gonna make me come,” you moaned, your entire body tingling as you felt your orgasm build up.

“You’re gonna come for me, come all over my cock,” he growled, rubbing at your clit now with his thumb. It was enough, sending you crashing, your limbs convulsing as you came, pussy pulsing around him. He groaned deep within his chest, then pulled out when you were done, pumping his cum all over your stomach.

You’d almost forgotten about the camera, wanting to just pull him down and kiss him until he was breathless, but you suddenly remembered, sparing a look at the screen. The tips were continuing to pour in, and you couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“So your idea worked,” you whispered at him, and he smiled at you.

“Told you it would,” he responded, winking at you before he leaned over and shut the camera off, leaning down to capture your lips in his.

[arcadejohn127-9]

ALSO- I have a request! Brothers (+royals if you want) reacting to an MC who is extremely affectionate once they like someones- gives hugs, praises often, gives gifts, does their best to help when they can- but if any of this affection is returned they cry. Hard. Because they're emotionally constipated and any affection or love they receive overwhelms them- this also embarrasses them extremely-

Damn.... didn't think I'd feel called out by a prompt request XD it seems my time has come!

I'm guessing royals are Diavolo and barbatos so I added them but if you ever request again and someone you wanted wasn't here, feel free to comment and I'll make sure to add them

Brothers + Diavolo & barbatos with an overly affection MC with issues

Lucifer:

He grew use to your affection ways

The words of praise when you notice he finished a work load

Or when you'd pat his head when he was tired

At first he wondered why you would handle or touch him likes he's a fragile doll but he grew to love how gentle you were

Subconsciously he'd lean his head down whenever he completed a task expecting a head pat

Even if you weren't there but if he's caught he'll just pretend he was tired

Lucifer wasn't always the most affectionate, especially as he rarely shows how much he genuinely loves the people around them

He decided to return the gesture, you recently got a high grade in a class you were struggling in

He patted your head, giving it a light ruffle

"You did good, you're improving alot - it's very promising."

Didn't expect you to start crying, aggressively shoving away your tears

"what's wrong? Did something-"

"I just- this is embarassing- you patted my head and people don't really do that for me and I just-"

"Ah, I see, then I shall do it more often."

"even in public?"

He was never a public man, wanting to get his softer side hidden in the protection of his soul and the walls surrounding his room

But here you were, crying because he simply caressed your cheek

He wants you to be happy and feel as loved as he does

So he'll happily push his walls down for you

"if it means this much to you, then yes but let's keep it appropriate."

Mammon:

"How's my handsome super model?! Did it go well? Aww you look tired, let's get you rested, okay?"

He's so in love

No one has ever made him feel this mooshy and love sick and he's ANCIENT

He's use to his brothers always insulting him - he likes a good tease and making a rude remark about each other but they tend to push it

They hit his Insecurities and think he can handle it because they're demons

But he wasn't always

Then you came along, giving him head pats and words of praise

Always standing up for him

He fell for you so quickly and so hard

He basically turns into a puppy when he's with you

When you left with Satan to get groceries he had to be forced to not go with you, waiting at the stairs for you to come back

As soon as Satan left with even your bags included, he came bolting for you

Leaping into your arms and squeezed you tight, insisting he didn't miss you but just got bored

The way he's nuzzling your cheek says otherwise

When you began crying he immediately panicked

"Did Satan do something to ya?! I swear I'll beat-"

"I'm just not use to others being as affectionate as I am back to me - it's okay."

"Huh?! Well I guess the greatest demon of all time has to be that person, that's me! Don't forget it, okay?! I'm going to smother you."

Mammon is already a touchy person but knows to be respectful, since that day his hands are always on you

Either holding your hand, touching your shoulder, petting your hair or just Hugging you

Levithan:

Levithan isn't one to give or receive when it comes to affection

He tends to get overwhelmed by just a head pat and gets embarassed if his fingers accidentally brush against yours

You're an overly affectionate person

He's a simple man who needs self worth

It's definitely a good duo

You've learned to be more vocal about your praises and affections, still testing the waters with physical touch

But from time to time he'll ask to get a head pat if he's really proud of himself

Has made you call him your little pog champ

"Levi are you- oh sorry you're streaming- I'll just leave these here."

He was confused until he saw the section dish filled with different snacks with a energy drink in the middle

He almost teared up

"No! Stay with me, they'll like you!"

In an act of no thoughts and boldness, he pulled you into his lap

You fell awkwardly and was half straddling half on his side

As soon as you got comfortable you hide your face In his neck forcing back tears

Not wanting to cry on stream

"You're so sweet, levi, I'm sure your followers can agree."

He literally short circuited

Hiding his face in your shoulder as he got flustered

"You're sweeter than me, you're always being nice to me - I really lo- like you for that."

Anyone who watched that stream now ships you - the non believers didn't believe all the stories he told about you but now they had physical proof

That stream was re-upload so many times with comps filled with him gushing about you

Levithan is determined to make sure you never see them but it's too late and you cried with joy in your room

Next time you saw him you kissed his cheek and he immediately melted

Did kiss your cheek back though but did it so quick and harsh that you stumbled backwards

Satan:

Someone being gentle to him????

Someone who doesn't keep away from his because of his sin????

Who??? What??!!

You're the who! he was SHOCKED you were so happy to get close to him and just treat him so kindly

He made a theory on the Devildom detectives group that you're actually an angel but it backfired by demons just telling him he's got feelings for you

He does but he didn't expect to get called out on a whole forum

"You're really smart, thanks for always helping me with my studies - I've found It alot easier to study and remember all my notes now, you're a good teacher!"

He's so smitten with you

You could be saying the most disgusting or insulting thing and he'd still smile and nod

He needed help getting food for this secret but really not so secret pet cat and you gladly accepted to help him

When you two were just spending time together in his room and when suddenly picked up his cat

You didn't think too much of it but grinned when he booped the cats nose onto yours

"thank you for being so kind to me- it means alot."

the cat was like you; overly affectionate so it didn't surprise you when it started gently pawing at your face and giving you little kisses

"I feel embarrassed by admitting this so I'm letting Chaos show how I feel."

He avoided looking at you

It would be for the best as you started crying, taking the cat from his hold and kissing it's head repeatedly

"and that's how I feel about you trying to move through your discomfort and be open with me."

His cheeks are BURNING

Holds your hand throughout the rest of the hang out

Asmodeus:

You're being gentle and affection despite Everyone perceiving him as a sex hungry annoyance?

You're immediately his favourite - sorry Solomon

You always understood his protectiveness over his appearance

Fixing his hair and pushing back stands if you ever pet it

You didn't need to but you always told him you washed your hands before touching his face

You always did these simple things to make him feel at ease

But he loved your touch

No matter any comment he makes; he adores you and just being able to have these tender moments with you

He knew you were special to him when you walked in on him

Barely awake, hair messy, no makeup or moisturizer - he didn't look even the slightest bit appealing

And just smiled, looking at him no differently even when his voice came out tired and croaky

"You're really pretty even when you just wake up, it's so unfair - what's your secret?"

"because it's me, darling! I always look good~"

Internally, he was freaking out about how you liked him at what he deemed - his most unattractive state

So it only made sense he became more touchy and grew closer to you

"are you sure I look good in this? I know you're very up to date with fashion."

"You look stunning, I haven't seen a bad look on you yet, perhaps your charm is just as high as mine."

He was holding your hips, smiling as you both looked in the mirror

He wrapped his arms around you, leaning on your shoulder

"I think you look good all the time, you're just amazing like that."

You tried to hide your tears but he could see them, immediately asking you what's wrong

"Nothing- I just- that means alot coming from you and you're always being so affection towards me....its really nice."

He just hugs you tighter, smiling

"I just treat you how you treat me, you're a real angel."

Beezlebub:

This guy is worried about so many things

He's scared of hurting you

He's worried if he gets carried away with touching you he'll make you uncomfortable and his gluttony will act up; wanting more of your tender touch until he feels full

The last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable or you feel forced to be affectionate to him because he could throw a fit

He's always ashamed of his hunger tantrums

But when he does do affection it's either carrying you or holding your hand

But was so happy whenever you cuddled hi against him or when you gave him praise

He could spend the whole day with you running your fingers through his hair, telling him he's a good demon and that he means something to you

"Can you finish this for me? I'm not feeling that hungry right now."

You offered your bowl to Beel, he happily took it

As you two spent time with each other he noticed you eyeing some of the more sweeter things set out on the table

He gently pushed it towards you

"Eat if you want it, I'll share."

You waved your hand, not wanting to take food from him

"I'm just snack-ish, I can't eat a meal right now."

You knew how hungry he could get and didn't want to leave him peckish

You knew that small feeling could easily turn into something bigger

But he just nudged it closer to you

"You eat what you want, I'll have what you don't finish."

You finally agreed, knowing he was insisting on you to eat with him

He patted your head, smiling as he watched you eat

"are you sure you won't still feel hungry?"

"you make me feel full, it soothes another type of hunger in me, it's nice."

He grabbed your hand, nuzzling his cheek against it, he couldn't stop smiling as you just looked at him in surprise

You finally grinned, tearing up and shook your head, you leaned against him and continued eating

Gripping his hand tighter as you pushed back your tears

Belphegor:

He was spoilt

Beel was always looking after him, helping him get ready for school and drying his hair, carrying him around when he was too tired to walk

And you were only fueling his spoilt nature

You always showered him in affection

Petting his hair whilst he laid his head on your lap, combed his tail, told him he looked cute

"My precious little belphie, are you feeling okay? I noticed you were struggling to sleep today at lunch."

Whilst he believed he looked intimidating with his heavy bags and sleepy grin

You found him adorable, treating him like a sweet innocent boy on those special nights of just you two cuddling

It's been a long time since he's felt innocent

You were always checking in on him

Making him feel special and cared for

He was a soft mess in your hands

"Hold me more, your hands feel so nice~"

He placed his hands on yours, making you gently squish his cheeks

"Don't you wanna cuddle?"

He raised a brow, a smug smile growing on his face

"it seems you want to."

"we don't have to-"

"If you wanna be held just ask, I'm more than happy to hold you."

He wrapped his arms around you, shifting his position and buried his face into your chest, humming as your hands ran through his hair

He gave you a small squeeze

"It feels good to be the one hugging you, you're always so comfy~"

He began murmuring how much he loves this time with you, drifting to sleep as he praised you, letting himself mindlessly go on about how wonderful and sweet you are until he started to snore

You let your tears fall

Holding him closer as you softly thanked him for his words

He just hugged you tighter in his sleep, his smile growing

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

This man is TOUCH STARVED

the fact you're unafraid to be with him and around him is already amazing but you freely hold his hand and pat his head

He thinks he's knocked his head and been taken to the celestial realm

People are intimidated by his title as prince and having you so care free in his company is new for him

So of course he enjoys how affectionate you are!

He embraces all your touches and praise!

He's even had you sitting on his lap during meetings, letting you hug him after a tiring day of studying

"You did great today, I really felt your passion for this new project, I think the students will really enjoy it!"

He gets so happy everytime you even look his way

Your smile alone fuels him for the whole day

"Meet me in the castle today, there's something I need you to do for me."

You agreed, not thinking much of it; most likely a new update on the school fair

What you didn't expect was to be greeted by shopping bags and gift boxes and even a human sized teddy bear with demon horns, you tried to ignore them as Diavolo came jogging down the steps

"What did you need me for?"

"I want you to see what you like, I bought as much as I could before Barbatos stopped me, I hope they're up to your liking."

You were speechless

You felt as if you touched the gifts you wouldn't be able to hold back; you were excited to see what he got but you didn't want to seem too excited

"Please, go ahead - it's all yours unless something is not up to your liking."

You finally went through the shopping bags; there was clothes, products, jewelry, shoes and all other sorts of items

You hugged the giant close to your chest, choking back on your tears

"thank you-"

"No need to thank me, you're always so kind to me I just wanted to return the favour."

Barbatos:

You were a like a breath of fresh air, someone he could just go to

He can unwind and be rewarded for his efforts and others normally don't notice

Whilst his lord was always praising him, it felt different with you

It felt so joyful

You would brush through his hair, always thank him even if he's just doing his job and always seem to be in awe at what he does

He'll never forget the gloves you gave him, sleek and a perfect fit with a cursive 'B' stitched to the edge - they were enchanted to warm up whenever he got cold

"Wow! You prepared all this?! That must of taken you ages! You're really amazing, Barb."

"I'm simply doing my job but your praise makes it all worth it."

Often invites you to the castle for tea

He'll make any excuse to have you come see him; the prince wants to talk, he wants a hand with a recipe, he needs an outsider's opinion on something

Whatever he can come up with; he will use it

You might as well just stay in one of the guest bedrooms because you're always coming to the castle

Speaking of excuses; today Barbatos decided to thank your lovely behaviour

Convincing you to come to the castle and meet him in the dining hall

"I saw you eyeing some recipes whilst helping me in the kitchen so, I made you them AND wrote down how I did it exactly so you can make them any time you like."

"I- you didn't have to do that! Thank you for this, they look delicious."

"I always wanted to give you this."

You couldn't even ask what it was

He already held it up for you to see

It was a box of gloves with your the first letter of your name stitched onto the edge

They were heat up gloves!

"I thought you'd appreciate your own as they'll always be handy but the gesture of matching with someone you're close to is very appealing."

He helped you put the gloves on, pinching the tip of your fingers to make sure they fitted properly

He held your hand, admiring how it looked in his

You couldn't stop a few tears forming, smiling

You felt abit silly crying over heat up gloves but you couldn't help it

"I want to match with you more often, perhaps one day it'll end up being a ring."

[embossross]

From His Mind to Yours

Chapter 5 >> Chapter 6 >> masterlist

✣ REPOSTING because it got eaten in the tags

✣ Pairing: Hanma x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+, minors DNI; unhealthy relationships & dark content

✣ Chapter CW: Exhibitionism (Hanma), Voyeurism (reader), oral (m receiving – not with reader), conversations about drugs (meth)

✣ Story CWs: patient/doctor relationships; smut (oral, ptv, pta, etc.), degradation, stalking, torture (not of y/n), murder, discussions of trauma and abuse, drug use, and more

✣ Synopsis: Forced into therapy, Hanma expects to waste his time and yours, but you’re not about to let the chance of a high-profile and higher paying patient slip through your grasp. The fact that you’re both attracted to each other doesn’t hurt either.

✣ Word Count: 7.5k+

Diners line up outside the door of the ikazya, only to be turned away. You were lucky to secure a low table for two with tatami mat seating. On a Tuesday at seven in the evening, the bar hums with office workers sharing an obligatory after-work drink. The dim lights force a strange kind of intimacy among colleagues that could not survive under the artificial LED lights of the office. You hoped some of that intimacy would possess you and your companion, but you are disappointed.

Half-empty dishes of gomae-ae, kushiyaki, and hiyyayako litter the table. Sake and beer sweat through glass cups to leave wet rings on the wood. There is a bunched-up napkin from where you spilled soy sauce earlier.

The meal is ending, but you have yet to bridge any of the distance between you and your companion: Miyasato Rie.

A senior of just one year at university, Miyasato has existed at the periphery of your existence for over a decade. In school, your classmates considered her a conscientious senior if a little disingenuous. She purposefully sought out all the first-year psych students, offering study tips, the best spots for a cheap beer, a sympathetic ear for the homesick. She helped you find your first apartment. With her advice, you survived the first few years of university. You are pretty sure she detests you.

“You didn’t finish your dinner,” Miyasato chastises, gesturing at the dishes you picked at earlier.

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” you say.

“Hmm, I suppose that was always true. Remember in school? You would never accept invitations to go out with everyone to dinner,” Miyasato says.

“I couldn’t afford it,” you say.

It was true then, when every yen you earned was shuffled straight into tuition or rent payments. With a full bank account, it’s no excuse now. You lost your appetite ten days ago along with your dignity in the back of a town car. You can’t eat. Coffee and chocolate parfaits are all you can manage. Like your stomach will only accept the very sweet or the very bitter.

“Well, I was surprised when you called me, but we should do this more often. We live so near each other, and it’s lovely to talk to another therapist. My husband tries, but he just can’t understand what it’s like to listen to patients’ problems all day! I don’t want to come home and listen to his next,” Miyasato laughs.

Angular cheekbones and premature sunspots age Miyasato by at least ten years, and you think the lovely young woman who would bully you into attending social get-togethers is gone. You feel sorry for forcing your company on an old acquaintance, not sure what you hoped to get out of this encounter.

Following your brush with death, the emptiness in your life echoes. The unlived in apartment, the cold office, the uncelebrated weekends. You want to regain some connection with the outside world. During university, at Miyasato’s prodding, you were almost a person in the world with acquaintances that bordered on friends.

Now, when you reflect on your life, you feel like you are at an airport, helpless as everyone whisks by you on a moving walkway. No matter how you hurry to catch up and join them, they glide further out of reach. Some people were born on the moving walkway, but you were born on the cold, hard ground. No father, a mother who refused to love you, no money to survive. How could you hope to ever join the moving walkway and its inhabitants, loved from the moment they were born?

The bill paid, you exit onto a quiet street. The red paper lantern above the shop casts Miyasato in a flushed glow.

“Remember what I told you,” Miyasato says. “About Dr. Kasai. If he doesn’t immediately have any openings, tell him that it’s at my referral. He’ll definitely book you then.”

Dinner was not a complete failure, and you thank Miyasato sincerely for sharing Dr. Kasai’s contact info. He is a therapist specializing in the treatment of other therapists. With no appetite and insomnia that stretches the night into little eternities, you recognize that you need help.

A car door slams, loud enough on the quiet street that you glance up and freeze. There is Hanma. You look away and back, but he is still there, looking at you. No illusion. No coincidence.

You make your excuses to Miyasato, who blinks in offense at the abrupt dismissal before heading in the direction of the subway station. Then, you hurry across the street to where Hanma waits for you.

He is dressed down for the heat in a white t-shirt that highlights the easy flex of his arm muscles and black jeans. The tail of a tattoo peaks from the collar, curling at the base of his throat. He isn’t wearing glasses either, and you wonder whether he is currently blind or wearing contacts that so eerily resemble his own natural shade. One side of his lip is red, too full, a little bruised.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” you demand.

“You cancelled our appointment,” Hanma says, eyes trailing your figure. Dressed up in a little black dress that ends a few scant centimeters above your knees, you are exposed.

“I did,” you agree.

Hanma sighs. “Look, I wanted to give you something.”

His head and torso disappear into the backseat of his car, and then he returns with a bouquet of flowers tucked into a tall porcelain vase painted with red and gold flowers. Your face must show your skepticism because Hanma forcefully places the offering between your palms. It is heavy.

You aren’t well-versed in flowers or their meanings, preferring to grow herbs and vegetables on your balcony garden, but you can pick out several in the overflowing bouquet. There are sprigs of deep purple lavender, blushing hydrangeas, and most of all, there are rich blue morning glories that look clipped straight from the garden.

“You got me flowers?”

“I’ve been taking the lithium as prescribed for eight days now, and I’ve been filling out your little app, and I’ve even made plans with Hakkai for later this week,” Hanma says.

“So, what is this supposed to be? An apology? A peace offering?” Your nose grazes a petal, seeking a sniff of morning glory, but you rear back at the feeling of plastic. “These are fake. They aren’t even real?”

“Exactly. They’ll last longer,” Hanma says.

The dead thing – no, not dead, because dead implies they were ever alive – weighs heavily in your hands. You don’t trust Hanma’s act of contrition. Every piece of this act is calculated to some purpose, most likely to convince you to resume your sessions.

When you reach for a kernel of the rage that drove you before, you can’t find the spark of it. All your anger towards Hanma was used up when you fucked him like a thing possessed, lapping at his blood like milk. You thought of him in the days since, wondered at your next step, but mostly you moped about your unfulfilled life, not much energy spared for Hanma’s place in it.

“This is not appropriate. I cancelled our session for a reason. Now, please call my office during business hours, and my receptionist will help you reschedule,” you say.

“But we’re both here now,” Hanma says, and he smiles in a way that is likely meant to charm, but only makes your stomach twist. You remember he smiled when he pulled the trigger, too.

“I cancelled because I have plans, Hanma-san. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

You move to step off the sidewalk and cross the street, but a bike hurtles past and stops your progress. That one moment of pause is enough for Hanma to try again.

“What plans do you have now?” Hanma argues. “Your only plan was to get dinner with your friend. If you leave now, you’ll have hours with nothing to do but sit in your empty apartment and wait for the sun to rise. Why not come with me instead? At least that way you won’t be lonely.”

There are no pedestrians on the secluded street, but you can hear the low rumble of conversation and laughter slipping through the cracked door of the bar. You live on the tenth floor of your apartment building. The only sounds that reach you there are car horns, sirens, and the roar of an airplane drifting overhead.

You know that you and Hanma are not alike. Not really. The differences stack up like used plates at a sushi bar. He is mercurial, dangerous, uncaring. He feels strongly and acts just as strongly in turn. But, beneath those differences lies a camaraderie, a shared emptiness. You are both life’s window shoppers, looking in through dirty glass at the lives you can’t afford to lead.

Nothing waits for you at home.

“Besides, I have questions about the lithium. Surely, you don’t want me to get lithium toxicity. It sounds dangerous,” Hanma goads.

“You want to discuss your medication?” you say slowly.

Hanma bends at the waist until his face is level with yours. “Yes.”

“I suppose I could accommodate you this once.” Seeing Hanma’s smile tilt too close to satisfaction, you rush to add. “But you’ll need to pay me double for this session. Out of your pocket, not Kisaki-san’s, as it’s your fault I cancelled the session.”

Hanma thumbs a stack of bills, so crisp and pretty you salivate, from his wallet. “This should do it.”

“And I have conditions,” you add, though you wait to pocket the money before continuing. “First, you will never again so much as indicate, no insinuate, that you have a gun while you are with me. If I see it, we’re done. If you gesture to it, we’re done. And I mean completely. Failure to meet these conditions, and I will call Kisaki-san myself to terminate our arrangement for good.”

“A gun? How would I even get a gun in Japan?” Hanma jokes, a tacit acceptance.

“Second, I have a safe word. And get that look off your face. A safe word for our sessions. If I say…Anpanman the session is immediately over. No discussion, no debate. You leave, and I call you to reschedule not the other way around.” You wait for Hanma’s solemn nod before continuing. “Third, no following me around like a stalker. I don’t know how you knew I’d be here today, but that’s the last of it. We meet at my office or a previously agreed upon spot. No finding me on the streets like a creep.”

“It’s really just a coincidence,” Hanma argues.

You shift the vase onto your hip so that you can point a finger at him. “And finally, and most importantly, you do not touch me.”

“Without your permission, yeah, yeah.”

“No. You do not touch me. Period. Ever. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” Hanma agrees.

He opens the passenger door with a chivalrous flourish, and you worry that he accepted your deal far too easily. Today he drives neither the Bentley from Hell or the town car from Hell…and actually, why do you keep getting in cars with this man when nothing good ever seems to come from it? You wonder if he isn’t running a chop shop with the number of vehicles he flaunts.

Hand on the top of the door, you pause. “Wait. Are you wearing contacts? Or are you blind right now?”

Hanma smiles widely. “Just get in the car, Doc.”

Against your better judgment, you do.

--

There are two Tokyos. During the day, one hides beneath the other, but at night they converge. The intersection where Hanma belongs squarely to the seedy underbelly when the sun goes down, the Tokyo of nightmares. Touts throng among the crowd, waving flyers and promises of pussy. Every face is underlit in neon, a sinister glow to their features.

Hanma leads you towards a storefront with blacked out windows. Hanging on each is a poster of women in bathing suits, posing with their tongues out or eyes crossed. This is the pleasure district.

“Absolutely not,” you say, stalling to a halt outside the entrance. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I refuse.”

“Oh, come on, Doc. I don’t mean anything by it. I just have business with the owner. We will be in and out,” Hanma says.

“In and out,” you warn.

Hanma slips away to speak to the owner, leaving you seated at the bar. You have never been in a strip club before, and the interior provides a feast for your eyes. Arranged in the western style, there is a single stage at the center of the room and table seating for patrons around it. The only other place to sit is the bar, where rows of liquor hang in glass cabinets. Panels of mirrors surround the stage, so that as a woman toys with the hem of her slip, drawing the fabric higher and higher, the mirror reflects her image out in every direction.

You should have refused Hanma at the door. Already, you are slipping back into the pattern of conceding too much to this man. Despite his claim that he needs therapy today, you barely spoke on the car ride over, merely discussing his recently improved sleeping schedule. Now, he has left you to fend for yourself at a strip club.

The woman on stage shimmies out of her slip entirely, revealing a lithe body and two impossibly large breasts. You don’t consider yourself a prude, but you find yourself staring hard at the bar, anything to avoid looking at her bullseye-shaped nipples.

A shadow appears at your side, tall and lean. You glance up expecting Hanma, but this is a stranger. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and towering over you at well over 180 centimeters, he looks like a model. How else to explain the hair-dyed violet?

“Can I buy you a drink?” the man asks. There is a special mortification in being propositioned at a titty bar.

“I can’t. I’m working,” you say, and then cringe when you realize what that implies. “I mean, I don’t work here…I’m a…never mind. I just can’t drink right now.”

The stranger motions to the bartender, who drops the customer he is actively serving to hurry over.

“A bottle of water for the lady,” he orders.

The gesture of respect is ingratiating enough that you shift on your bar stool to open up your space a bit. He slots into the opening without hesitation. It is the subtle language of flirtation, and you can tell he is fluent.

“I saw you come in with a man. Who would leave a woman like you all alone in a place like this?”

“An asshole,” you mutter under your breath, and then louder for this man’s benefit. “We’re not together, and we’re not staying. He has business with someone here. He’s going to be in and out.”

“What kind of business would a respectable man have at a strip club?” he laughs.

You shrug. The intricacies of Hanma’s work are interesting, but you make it a point to know as little as possible about the incriminating details.

“Is this your first time here? You seem…uncomfortable,” the man says.

“You can tell?” you ask dryly. Your fingers dance up and down the side of the water bottle, painting patterns in the condensation. “This isn’t much of a place for a woman. I feel sorry for the girls who work here.”

The man turns around, so that his elbows lean against the bar and casts a surveying eye around the club and the stage where a woman is now griding her panty-covered crotch into the hardwood. Sweat and glitter cover her body in a filthy sheen. Her eyes are closed, and you can only imagine what she thinks in moments like this.

“It’s true that many of the women here are exploited. But there’s something raw, something free about their work, isn’t there? To strip away all of society’s pretenses and reveal the base animal underneath? She knows the truth about men, about people after working here. She knows who the devoted family man truly is, who the buttoned-up businessman hides beneath his tie. And that knowledge equals a kind of freedom, a kind of power. It’s up to her how she wants to use it. That’s freedom.”

“Maybe for some women, but not for me,” you say coldly. This stranger is a honeyed devil in your ear, promising that at the other end of abandoning self-control and dignity lies paradise. It is a convenient myth, and he makes it sound dangerously convincing.

He smiles at you, eyes hooded and attentive, no different than when he trained on the stripper’s naked body, but then he nods. “Well, it was nice to meet you. Maybe you’ll let me buy you a drink next time.”

The man leaves, and you watch him walk right through the front door and out of sight. Very charming, you think, but off somehow. He reminds you of someone, but you can’t quite place it.

No one else approaches you in the five minutes you wait for Hanma to conclude his business. You polish off the water bottle in four, grateful to the stranger as you gulp down the final drops.

When Hanma returns, he doesn’t even meet you at the bar, beckoning with his head for you to join him at a table near the stage. The silent nod, disrespectful, arrogant, sets your teeth on edge. He is so confident that you will participate in your own shame, let him make a mockery of your work, that you won’t ever pull the trigger on him, the way he will on you. You don’ want to go home to your apartment, but you know you can’t stay here any longer.

“This is not in and out, Hanma-san,” you say through gritted teeth as you approach him.

“The owner is getting something for me,” Hanma says. “We just have to wait. Sit down and enjoy the show.”

A new woman saunters on stage to jeers of appreciation from the crowd. Hanma grins wickedly at her legs as they strut by.

“Anpanman,” you blurt out.

The club doesn’t quiet at your invocation of your safe word, but the turmoil in your chest does. You have the power to set your own boundaries. Like a child, Hanma may hurtle himself bodily at each one to test for weakness, but you can reinforce yourself like a castle and stay tall.

“Fair enough,” Hanma says, and the easy submission sends your mind reeling. You thought he would kick and scream and break your conditions. “Do you want a ride home? Or can you make it to the subway alright?”

“I can make it to the station,” you say slowly.

“Alright, I’ll wait for your call to reschedule,” Hanma says.

Already, his eyes return to the dancer on stage. Without his glasses, his scrutinous eyes are twice as intense. You can see the stage reflected in the black pupils; there is no reflection of your own face.

“Why…why do you want to stay so badly?”

“Like I said, I have to wait for the owner. Plus, believe it or not, but this place serves good food. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”

Once you watched a documentary that compared pre-modern and modern hunting styles. The trick of trap hunting, it explained, is to camouflage the trap so well that the animal stumbles straight into its death with a smile. Your stomach rumbles from days of fasting. You see the trap, yet you still edge closer.

“I’ll stay but only if we sit over there,” you say, gesturing to the empty table furthest from the stage and its performer. “You need to face away from the stage, too…and you’re buying dinner.”

Hanma snorts, genuinely snorts, a puff of sound from his chest expelled from his nose and says, “Have you considered a career change, Doc? Because you would make a hell of a negotiator. I’ll even put in a good word for you.”

“You can’t afford me,” you sniff.

Stuffed into the corner, you can almost pretend you aren’t at a strip club. The flashing lights are no different than any club you would find in Roppongi, and if you fix your neck in place and focus on Hanma, you can’t see the stage. The music breaks your immersion somewhat, a low, griding bass that settles in your stomach, but the little table where you sit is innocuous.

Hanma orders a plate of chicken wings to share, a beer, and steamed vegetables. He is right that the food here is delicious. Fried and greasy, so that flavor drips onto your tongue. Your hunger must finally be getting the better of you because you find it simple to eat your half of the wings.

“So, you said you wanted to discuss how you’re feeling on lithium,” you prompt as you pick a piece of meat from bone.

“Yeah, or rather, how I don’t feel on lithium.”

“Is it numbing you out?” you ask.

“No, I don’t feel any difference. It’s like you gave me sugar pills or something. I’m going to the damn lab and getting stuck like a pig for bloodwork, and all the while, I don’t feel a damn change,” Hanma says.

“I know you’re used to popping a pill and feeling the effects within the hour, but lithium isn’t like that,” you say. “It takes a month for it to take effect for most people. We want to monitor in the meantime because the difference in dosage between what’s prescribed and lithium toxicity is so narrow, but I don’t expect you to have any real benefits to report for a few weeks yet.”

“And when it does kick in, what should I expect? Because I read through the side effects, and they’re a doozy, Doc. These things better make my dick rock hard and help me grow wings, or I’m going to be disappointed,” Hanma says.

There is a spot of sauce staining his upper lip, which he seems unaware of. He chews on without a care, smearing it further with each bite. You wonder if you should tell him. Decide it’s not your place. Discretely, you wipe your own lips with a napkin.

“The point is to moderate the wild swings up and down that you have in any given day. I looked at your log, and you are all over the place. My hope is that they will help you achieve a more manageable average. Most people remain at a steady baseline from day to day without all these big variations.”

You assigned Hanma the daily log before he threatened both your lives, so you had not expected him to actually follow through. For the past ten days, however, he has steadily logged his moods with little notes to indicate the source of the shift. Favorites include an eight on Friday with the note, ‘pussy,’ and a ten on Sunday with the note, ‘good pussy.’ Other sources that trigger a high or manic episode appear to be hearing a song he likes on the radio, seeing a middle schooler trip on a curb and eat asphalt, and evading a speeding ticket. There are just as many dramatic valleys in his log. Causes range from something as simple as running out of beer or missing a boxing match on TV. What concerns you is how often a peak of ten is followed mere hours later by a craterous one.

“Most people, huh? In my line of work, you don’t see a lot of steady. We must have gathered up all the neurotics in Tokyo,” Hanma says. “What about you though, Doc? Are you most people here?”

“I would say so. I spend most of my day at a steady five with some minor dips up to a six or down to a four. Unless there’s a big exception, I’m not going to leave that zone,” you explain.

A half lie hides in your answer. If you were honest, your baseline dropped to a four recently with a mere papercut pushing you down to a three. Good exceptions are few and far between to the point that you can’t quite remember the last time you were as happy as a six.

Time with Hanma breaks the scale entirely. You can’t say that you are happy or enjoying yourself in his company, but neither can you say that you sustain a bland four like you do throughout the rest of your day. You find your time with him exists in a completely different universe, one with reverse gravity where up is down and north is south.

“Sounds pretty fucking miserable if you ask me,” Hanma says. “Yeah, I sometimes hope a truck takes me out, but I also get to feel the opposite, like the world was made for me. Don’t you wish you spent more time at a ten? Or even just a seven?”

“I guess you’re kind of edging up against that age old question: what is the meaning of life? You actually sound like the Cyrenaics.”

You explain that the Cyrenaics were a Socratic school of thinking in ancient Greece that believed the meaning of life was to maximize the pleasure of every single moment. They argued that because the future was not guaranteed – you could die tomorrow, the unpredictable could tear your best laid plans asunder – it made no sense to do anything but live in the moment.

“It makes sense on paper,” you continue. “If I die tomorrow, don’t I wish I enjoyed every moment of today? But…my mom kind of lived that way, and it ultimately ended with her dying in poverty and agony. The future makes me too anxious. I need to prepare for it, even if that means denying myself something in the moment. Otherwise, I’ll get too worked up to enjoy anything in the present. So, sure I would like to be at a ten more often, but I can’t get there if I’m risking a future one. My brain just doesn’t work that way.”

“I think you just haven’t experienced true pleasure,” Hanma purrs.

“You might want to think that through,” you tease and then remember that you don’t want to remind this man of the pleasure and terror he inflicted upon you.

“I mean it. Real pleasure…it’s addictive. Pain and pleasure have a lot in common. They’re the only two forces in this world that make you exist fully in the present. And I’m talking about true pleasure here, not just a little jolly here or there. True pleasure wipes out everything else. If you have any room in your brain to worry about the future, then you’re feeling something different,” Hanma says.

Once upon a time, you would have dismissed these pretty, seducing words altogether, but you know what he means now after the mind and body games of your last session. There was no moment but the present when you rode his cock, no fear of what came next as you bit through skin to return a fraction of the hurt you felt to him. Thinking back to that time, you don’t remember it being pleasurable in any sense of how you would normally describe the term. Rather, it was transcendent. Not all good, but all-encompassing instead.

“If you never mitigate risk, you will find yourself in a situation where you can’t experience pleasure anymore. Say tomorrow, I quit my job and blow all my money on a shopping spree, that will feel good for a day, and then I’ll be living on the street when rent comes due.” Another example of this philosophy crosses your mind. A necessary reminder that despite the multiple men who have urged you to throw your inhibitions to the wind tonight, there would be consequences to dropping your professional mask. “I think the Epicureans had the right idea of things. They were another school of thought, said that one should maximize pleasure and minimize pain. Though even that I struggle with. No human being could ever get that equation right. Only an omniscient god could aspire to that.”

“You have a tiny, and truly, Doc, I mean miniscule, point there. Delayed gratification is only worth it if the prize is big enough. If I did what I wanted most right now because I might take a bullet tomorrow, that would stop me from getting something one hundred times better in the days to come. Sometimes we have to work for our meal,” Hanma says.

You catch a glimpse of the stripper on stage as she lifts one of her breasts to her mouth and suckles on the nipple. A cacophony of hoots rises up at the lewd act. Heat blossoms in your chest. Hanma’s mouth looks wet from where his beer lingers on his lips, sauce licked away.

“And I plan to eat well,” you toast him, tipping your can of grape soda in his direction. Sometimes you look at Hanma, and all you see is zeroes in your bank account.

“Is that your meaning of life then, Doc? Enriching yourself? And then one day you finally relax and enjoy it?”

“Maybe. I’m more interested in what your meaning of life is,” you counter.

Hanma picks around the bone of a chicken wing, teeth precise as they tear through flesh. A man of endless appetites, he reaches for another.

“I haven’t studied any fancy ideas like you. I don’t know the Epicureans or the whatevers. I don’t know the meaning of life. What I know is what gets me out of bed in the morning. And that’s that there is no alternative. I can’t stay in bed all day, or I’ll die. I can’t stay in bed all day, or I’ll die of boredom. Even if getting out of bed offers nothing better, I have no choice. I don’t think there is a meaning. People just are. We live because we have no choice but to live unless something kills us. And then, we’ll be dead with no choice but to remain dead, same as living.”

You are less studied in “fancy ideas” than Hanma imagines, only taking one elective philosophy course in university. One of your professors suggested you dabble in that side of the human condition as patients often require a grounding purpose to guide their recovery. Still, you recognize in Hanma’s musings the shadow of a real philosophical framework.

“That sounds like pessimistic naturalism. Some nihilist thought considers boredom the inevitable foundation of life. They say nothing humans do is ever meaningful enough to matter, so we suffer from boredom as a result. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it’s definitely not helpful. So many things already bring you joy, so isn’t it better to recognize that those things are inherently meaningful because they matter to you? That goes back to the mood stabilizers. I want to get you to the point where you can suffer a low period because you know that a high – which is the whole meaning of your life – is around the corner,” you explain.

Inconsiderate of everyone around him, Hanma lights a cigarette. He nods along as he puffs a plume of smoke that dances erotically overhead before disappearing into the neon lights. There is no ashtray at the table, so he dabs the stub into a table napkin.

“Sounds good to me. I know good things are coming,” Hanma says with a nerve-inducing smile.

“What is your goal exactly?”

“Oh no, Doc. That’s classified information,” Hanma tuts. More seriously, he adds, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do after I finally…get what I want. If I still have years of life ahead of me, I can’t picture myself old. I look around at other people and how they define their lives around money or success or family. I already have money and success, have had it since I was young. Nothing left to do there. And, I never had a loving family. Once I’ve done everything there is to do…I don’t know what’s next.”

Sharp pain slices through you, and you realize you were picking the skin of your cuticles raw. A bead of blood wells on your ring finger, and you pop the wound into your mouth. The bleeding stops, but the wound sits open and red. Pointedly, you fold your hands in your lap.

Without a family as a template for how to interact in the world, you often feel formless. There is a very clear schedule that women are expected to follow: it’s okay to worry about your career in your twenties, but your primary responsibility is to become a wife. Then, your thirties and forties are defined by the role of mother. Maybe a short break in your fifties to focus on yourself as a person, but then you’re hurtled back into the role of grandmother to wait for death. Even more career-minded women, like Miyasato, capitulate to the template and tell you their families come first.

Every choice you make is dedicated not to family but the accumulation of a fat nest egg that will keep you secure in your advanced years. Never mind that you don’t know what you will actually do with yourself once you retire and money is no longer the motivator.

Would you find a hobby? You love to cook, already dedicating two hours every evening to the preparation of multi-course meals, researching new recipes, and shopping around for rare ingredients. In retirement, you could embark on some kind of cooking challenge, like learning a dish from every country in the world. And then, you could set those scrumptiously prepared dishes out to a table of one, eat a few bites, and watch the garbage consume the rest.

You are aware that you are feeling sorry for yourself, but it is hard not to when even the bartender at the titty club is laughing and bantering with customers who know him by name.

“Well, I think you’re in no danger of doing everything life has to offer,” you say after too much time passes. “Focus everything you have on your goal for now, and then, if you achieve it, you’ll find something else to look forward to.”

The conversation draws naturally to a close. Good timing, as you see a man moving in your direction. He is dressed in a white button-down and gold jewelry, limp black hair combed to conceal a receding hairline. A waitress smiles solicitously as he passes, and you know he must be the owner.

“Hanma-san,” the man greets with a blow. To you, he gives a half nod, like he is unsure what courtesy you merit. “I spoke to my colleague about the situation, and we are in agreement. Thank you for trusting us with this. As a token of our appreciation, please enjoy your time here to the fullest. On the house, of course.”

He passes Hanma a folded-up napkin. Inside is a baggie filled with white crystals, almost pretty in the light. You have never seen drugs in person, but you can recognize crystal meth from your textbooks.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hanma says.

“Um, I mind,” you say immediately. The owner starts like he’s heard a gunshot. “You absolutely cannot take that while on lithium. You are going to overdose and die, and then where will you be?”

Hanma rolls his eyes. “Ten feet under, I suspect.”

“We just had an entire conversation about how you have to live to achieve your goals,” you snap, and then turning to the owner. “Thank you for your…generosity but take it back.” The owner is so pale his black eyes stand out like bugs on his face. He does not move to confiscate the meth.

“You have a point. How about a quid pro quo? If I can’t have my fun now, you need to help me have my fun some other way,” Hanma suggests.

“Not just tonight. All the time. You absolutely cannot take any drugs while you’re on lithium. I shouldn’t have let you even drink that beer, but I allowed it because it was just one. You need to be careful,” you snap.

“Let me…” Hanma rolls the words around on his tongue consideringly.

“Let you,” you restate firmly.

“Well, then, if my life means so much to you. I’m sure you’ll agree to a little something in return.”

Disastrously, you do.

--

There are nine beautiful women working the club tonight. Every one of them is paraded before Hanma for his selection. Each woman is as beautiful as the last, one for every imaginable type: curvy, lithe, glamorous, oxymoronically demure. Hanma picks a woman with long dark hair, dressed more like an idol than a stripper in a frilly multi-colored dress, who calls herself Naomi.

Officially, the club offers lap dances in a row of cubicles partitioned by black curtains that are mere bolts of fabric. Naomi confidently leads you past these seedy receptacles to a private backroom.

The room is dark, lit up by the same pink and purple lighting as the rest of the club. There is a small stage at the front – presumably for private shows, but you suspect is really covers for the illegal activities conducted here – and a three-cushion couch opposite it, where Hanma immediately seats himself. You demure from joining him, choosing instead to sit on the stage. The platform is raised, so your feet dangle off the floor.

“How should we start, Doc? What would you like to see first?” Hanma asks, voice battling the loud EDM music blaring from a TV in the corner.

“I want no part in this. I’m here per our agreement. That’s it,” you say.

“Why did I figure you’d say that?” Hanma laughs.

“Pretend I’m not even here.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t even look at you?”

“Yes.”

Hanma agrees easily, which surprises you, makes you wary. You wrap your arms around your body protectively to ward off the cold. A fan winds listlessly above your head and an HVAC blows cool air directly onto your skin. Dancing must be sweaty work.

With no regard to the cold, Naomi shimmies out of her garish dress, revealing a pair of panties and no bra. You try not to look but instinctively catalogue the curves of her exposed body and judge it against your own.

You look up, anything to avoid leering at the two of them. But, above their heads, is a mirror mounted to the ceiling that reflects the action back to you. From this angle, you can’t see the expression on Hanma’s face, but you have an unfettered view of his dick, hard and wet.

Naomi lowers to her knees in front of the couch, so that you are presented with her back. She unbuttons Hanma’s pants. This is the first time you’ve see the cock that was inside you. Hanma’s cock sits tall and curved against his stomach. Black hair, the same color as what trails down his stomach thatches at the base.

The head of Hanma’s cock is red and angry, more inflamed than Naomi’s pink tongue as it strokes along the underside.

Long, wet brushes of tongue. Barely started and strands of thick saliva already cling to Naomi’s chin as she slobbers all over the shaft. The impressive length of him becomes glaringly obvious when Naomi holds his cock against her cheek. The tip extends beyond her forehead, the cock taller than her entire head. And that fat, angry, red cock, had been inside you.

As Hanma receives a professional grade blow job, he leans back like nothing is happening. He lights yet another cigarette. The smell of smoke is eaten up by the air freshener that pumps away from an outlet near the stage.

Even as Hanma’s cock is worshipped, you are undeniably aroused.

Naomi moves to suck on Hanma’s balls, face tilted upward, so that you can make out her features through the ceiling mirror. Now that you look closely, there are some surface-level similarities between the two of you. Something in the line of her jaw, similar age. Glancing down, you think the way her ass sits, dimpled as it rests on her high heels is similar as well, the shape of it.

The similarities are enough that if you squint, you can almost imagine that is you on your knees. That you are seated before Hanma like a supplicant.

Naomi abruptly swallows half of Hanma’s cock, making space for something that should not possibly fit.

You touch the base of your neck carefully. Feel the hard cartilage beneath the flesh.

Hanma is different than you might have imagined. Not that you did. Somewhere instinctually, you simply envisioned that he would be rougher with a lover, forcing a woman’s head down and ignoring the choking. The kind of thing you see in porn. Instead, he dominates Naomi’s movements with a casual certitude that doesn’t require roughness. He makes little corrections to her technique with a tug of her hair or a push on her head. Never enough to make her gag, just a signal to adjust.

Your earlier conversation about the pursuit of pleasure returns to you. Perhaps it’s his confidence in the value of pleasure that grants him this effortless ability to pursue it now. You remember nights in the dark, when a lover missed your clit over and over, mashing uselessly at your labia, and you simply let him. Too detached to correct his form.

The intensity of the blow job increases by degrees. First, Naomi’s throat opens up, more of Hanma’s length caressed and sucked with each bob of her head. Then, her hands join in a sticky rhythm to massage the base of him. A line of spit dangles off his shaft every time Naomi returns to the head and is then swallowed up again on the downward descent.

Throughout, Hanma never glances in your direction. His eyes stare to the side and the door, or they study the woman on her knees. He follows your instructions to pretend you’re not there to the letter, and you desperately wish he would stop.

For the first time since you saw him on the street tonight, you feel a yawning distance, like there’s a glass wall, between you both. He is having an experience completely separate from you that you can’t hope to touch. You can’t reach him. You hate it. No different than if you were alone in your living room, scanning through cable TV for lack of anything better to do.

Because he is not looking, you don’t think too carefully as you uncross your arms, and let your fingers trail down the exposed skin of your arms. It tickles a little, a tease that chills your body and heats the spark in your stomach. You shouldn’t do this, vowed that you would not let him touch you again, but you deserve pleasure, too. Don’t you?

Again, you rub tenderly at the flesh of your neck, the shell of your own ear. You watch Naomi as you do. No matter how bored he looks, Hanma must feel good with Naomi laboring over his cock, and now you do too. You feel the distance between you shrink a little, a crack in the glass that separates you from him.

The look on Naomi’s face galvanizes you. Shimmering in her eyes are unshed tears, a furrow to her brow as she forces past her gag to satisfy him. Hanma’s cock must be a battering ram in her throat. You wonder if she is soaked through at having such a big cock inside her. If you were in her place, you would be.

You can’t resist escalating when such simple touches light your blood from within. You rub your bare thighs together to put pressure on your cunt. You pinch your nipples through the fabric of your dress. They are painfully hard, and you bite your lip to contain a gasp at the excruciating contrast.

If Hanma looks at you now, honest and shameless in your feelings, you will combust.

He doesn’t look. Emboldened by his continued obedience, you ruck your dress up over your hips, revealing your panties. They are damp, hardly a barrier as the fabric presses into your folds. You search for your clit and find it peeking (and peaking) through your clitoral hood. Sparks fly in your stomach at the barest graze of your fingertips over the fabric. Greedy, you rub it firmly.

Already, you are close to an edge and desperate to tip over. You imagine Hanma might be as well. You imagine that you are on your knees with that hard cock battering the inside of your throat. He was piercing in your cunt, and he would be in your throat, too, no matter how gently he treated you. He wouldn’t pull out. He would blow his load down your throat, and you would swallow him down with a smile. He would return the favor, drinking from the source of you, eating your pussy with no mercy until you cried.

You couldn’t stop your orgasm now if you wanted to. It approaches with terrible certainty. Your thighs quake before the crest and you close your eyes against the demand it makes of your body. Heat flares, and you whimper pathetically. When you cum, it will damn you.

Your eyes flutter open at the height of the peak and find Hanma’s staring you down. Not through the mirror. Direct eye contact as he strokes his own cock while Naomi mouths at his balls. You cum on the spot.

Your whole body seizes up with it, pussy begging as it flutters around nothing. Waves of euphoria wash from your stomach to your cunt to your fingertips as you buck and moan and continue to rub your aching clit through it. Just as you think the waves are weakening, Hanma grunts and cums on Naomi’s face. The sound incites you, and two more waves of pleasure burst unnaturally from your clit.

Later, you will castigate yourself for your choices today. If only you showed more self-control. If only you remembered your responsibilities as a therapist. Using your body has worked to a degree in capturing his interest and maintaining his focus, but it is not sustainable. You can’t sell your body and pleasure to Hanma in exchange for cooperation.

But, for now, as you slump backwards on the stage, back cold and chest heaving, you can only think that you are doing a damn good job at maximizing your pleasure.

And a damn bad one at minimizing your pain.

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Rei hurting reader Pt 3

I couldn't write anything for Valentines, but I hope you like this. Enjoy!

Pt 1 here.

Pt 2 here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Enji wasn’t surprised at your funeral.

He wasn't surprised when Rei had begged him to have you frozen, keep your body encased in a glass box at home.

He wasn't surprised when the kids held her, letting him make proper funeral arrangements.

He wasn't surprised when Rei had a breakdown, punching his chest and thrashing around in Shotou's and Dabi's arms.

Enji wasnt surprised when the divorce papers came. He knew the kids were making her do this, but he didn't care. He signed them without hesitation.

He wasn't surprised when he heard the kids had sent Rei to an asylum. She kept escaping the house to run to the graveyard; she wanted to dig your body up. He understood why the kids sent her back.

He wasn't surprised when he heard Rei had killed herself in that place, 6 months after you had died.

He wasn't surprised when his kids didn't inform him of her death or funeral. If he was being honest, he wasn't even sure if he would've gone to pay his respects.

Enji poured himself another glass of vodka, taking the bottle with him as he sat on his recliner, almost tripping on a few empty bottles.

He wasn't an alcoholic, he was just trying to numb his pain. Its the only thing that helps him fall asleep.

Enji pulled out a cigarette and pushed it between his lips. He snapped his fingers to light it, closing his eyes as he inhaled the carcinogen.

"Again, dad?"

Enji didn't have to open his eyes to know its you.

"You know these things are not good for you."

Enji smiled. You were always so caring.

"Ah, so you do smile? I didn't think you were capable of doing that."

Enji opened his eyes. You were standing in front of him, a grin on your face.

"I smiled a lot more when you were around." Enji said.

You chuckled. "Me too." You sat next to him, before putting your head in his lap. "But you weren't around often."

Enji felt tears prick his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

Enji woke up the next morning with a massive headache. He went to his kitchen to get himself some coffee. He checked the calendar as he sipped the hot drink.

Friday.

He finished his coffee quickly, before wearing a large coat. He grabbed his car keys and drove away from his house.

When he reached the graveyard, he made sure to wear his sunglasses and a baseball cap, before grabbing the bouquet of white lillies.

Your grave was a little away from the rest, he wanted you to have space, and his family to have privacy when they visited.

He stood in front of your grave. It was clean and the bed of grass of fresh as ever. He had paid the caretaker good money to regularly clean up your resting place.

Enji stared at your tombstone for some time.

Y/n Todoroki.

Heaven's brightest angel

A loving daughter

Now resting safe and at peace

Tears fell free from Enji's eyes at that. "Safe and at peace". Safe and at peace. Two things he failed to give you.

The image of your bloody face flashed in his mind for a moment. Blood coated your teeth and mouth, your gut was also bleeding heavily. Your face was contorted in pain, confusion and betra-

Enji needs to stop thinking.

He sat down beside your grave and pulled out the flask from his coat pocket. He knows he has to drive back. He knows he shouldn't drink, not in front of you at least, but he can't help it. "I'm sorry." Enji whispers before he started drinking. It didn't take long for him to finish the entire flask. It was getting dark and he knew he had to leave before the caretaker came.

Enji pressed a kiss to your tombstone before he turned on his heel to leave.

"Endeavour?"

Enji was stunned to hear his hero name; nobody had called him that in a long time. God, he wished it wasn't the paparazzi. They had no respect for anyone, not even for the grieving or the dead.

But he looked up to see an old face.

"Keigo?"

Hawks smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine. What are you doing here?"

He scratched the back of his head nervously. "I've been meaning to talk to you." Hawks sighed. "I tried contacting you several times but you're impossible to track."

Enji knew that. He disappeared from the public eye after your death. He left his agency to Hawks, and got himself a home hidden in the woods. People assumed that he was just distraught over his wife's death or something. They didn't know about you. Nobody did. He paid off the hospital staff to keep their mouth shut because he didn't want his kids to suffer anymore because of his mistakes.

"What do you want?" Enji asked, gruffly.

"I just wanted to talk to you. Check up on you, y'know?"

"I'm doing great." Enji replied, stepping around him, about to walk away, but Hawks put a hand on his shoulder.

"Enji, its not your fault-"

"Shut up." Enji walked past him and made his way towards his car.

"Enji, listen to me-"

"I said. Shut. Up." He growled out. He didn't need anyone's pity. He reached his car with Hawks running up to him.

Enji tried to open his door but he suddenly felt lightheaded as he fell down.

"Enji! Are you okay?" Hawks kneeled beside him.

"I'm f-fine. Leave me alone." Enji was slurring.

Hawks grimaced when he smelled his breath. "God, you reek of alcohol. You weren't planning on driving in this state?"

Enji pushed him away. "I said I'm fine." Enji stood up before stumbling towards his car again, fumbling with the keys, his vision blurring the more he strained himself.

"Let me take you home, Enji." Enji felt his hands on his shoulder, but just as he tried to tell Hawks to fuck off, his vision faded to black.

Enji opens his eyes and finds himself in his house again. His old house. He's laying in bed when he hears laughter from outside. He gets out of bed and walks towards the source.

The kitchen.

He walks in and sees his family, the sun rays flooding the room, and the golden orange hues illuminating their faces. Rei is mixing something in a large bowl, Fuyumi is greasing up some pans. Natsuo and Touya are eating the chocolate chips from the bag, and Shotou is telling them to save some for the cake. And you. You're there too. Sitting beside Shotou, laughing as Touya sneakily gives you some chocolate chips too. Suddenly, they all turn towards him. Rei motions for him to come in. "Enji! Come in. We're making a cake!" Enji walks towards her, wrapping his arms around her. Rei kisses him, making his kids cringe and tell them to stop. They all laugh. Rei pours the batter into the pans, before raising the spoon. "Okay, who wants to lick the spoon?" And suddenly Touya, Natsuo and you yell "me!" before trying to reach for the spoon. Shotou freezes Natsuo's foot to the floor, while Enji pulls Touya back. Fuyumi grabs the spoon from her mom, and gives it to you, making you smile as you eagerly lick the spatula clean, while Touya and Natsuo whine how its not fair. Everyone laughs as Rei cleans up the batter smeared on your nose with a tissue. Its a heart warming scene. Its all he ever wanted.

But its not the reality he was given now, was it?

As Enji closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of his family, he suddenly hears someone crying. He snaps his eyes open, but the kitchen is empty and dark. He hears the crying again. He gets out of the kitchen quickly, trying to find the source. Its coming from Fuyumi's room. He bursts through the door, looking for Fuyumi, but finds you there instead. You're on the floor whimpering as you're trying to rub your arm with a towel. He kneels next to you. "What's wrong?" You cry when you remove the towel to reveal the huge ice burn on your arm. There were ice crystals littering all over the skin. Enji begins to heat up his palms as he melts the ice downs, slowly allowing the sensation in your arm to return. "What happened?" You sniffled. "F-fuyumi came to my room and said that she wants to go shopping with me, I told her I had to study for my test." You hiccuped. "She didn't like that, she- she said I'm ignoring her, blowing her off- I'm not!" You cried. Enji focused on your arm, heating it up slowly. "I know, you didn't do it on purpose. But maybe you could take some time off school? Think of it as a little break. You could spend more time with Fuyumi, with us." You looked at him in confusion. "B-but she hurt me-" "no, she was just a bit frustrated. You know she didn't mean it, right? She's your big sister, she loves you." You hesitantly nodded. "If you say so..." Enji smiled. "See, its all better now. Let me heat up the towel and wrap it around your arm." He turned to get the towel, but when he turned back, the room was empty.

He heard quiet sobs coming from your room. He made his way to your room and opened door and found you lying on the bed. "What happened?" He asked, taking a seat on your bed. "I saw him, I saw Natsuo put crushed pills- sleeping pills in my food! That's why I've been feeling so sleepy lately. When I confronted him, he told me its for my own good. B-but I know its because he doesn't want me to go out with my friends! He forcefully fed me the food, and then he took my phone away too! He said its because its not good to sleep with your phone but I know he took it because he wants to go through my stuff!" Enji hushed you. "Can you talk to him? Tell him to stop or something." Enji raised an eyebrow. "Natsuo is your big brother. He's just looking out for you. And he's not wrong about going through your phone either. Do you have something to hide?" You shook your head no. "But-!" "Natsuo wouldn't do anything to cause you pain, okay?" You closed your eyes. "Okay." You whispered. Enji closed the door as he left your room. But as soon as he did, he heard banging coming from the basement. He rushed down the stairs and found the door locked. Bursting through the door, he was suddenly engulfed by a small body. It was you again. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, help me!" Enji pulled you away from him. "Hey, shh. Its okay. I'm here. What happened?" You sobbed into his chest. "I just went to the grocery store- just for 20 minutes!" Enji already knew what went wrong. "You didn't go with Shotou, did you? You didn't even inform him, right?" You shook your head no. "It slipped my mind. I promise I wasn't running away!" Enji sighed, petting your hair. "How long have you been down here?" You sniffled. "I dont know. It was Wednesday when Shotou pushed me in here." Three days. "Its okay. You've learnt your lesson, right?" You nodded. "Please, I don't want to be down here anymore." Enji led you out of the basement. "Just don't forget to tell Shotou next time, or tell us what you need. We'll bring whatever you want." Enji closed the basement door, but suddenly someone whimpered from inside. He opened the door again, but he found himself in the main bathroom. You were standing in front of the sink, putting some ointment on your shoulder. Enji looked closer and found burn marks on your skin. "Did Touya-" You turned around towards him. "Yes." Enji couldn't take his eyes off the red, burnt skin. "Why?" You shrugged your shoulders. "Does it matter?" You slammed the door shut in his face.

Enji didn't even realise he had begun walking away from the door and towards another one. He instinctively opened the door and found Rei and you. Rei had her arms raised, a sharp knife in her hand. "Rei- what are you doing? Put the knife down!" Suddenly, the rest of his kids appeared in the room. They stood between Rei and him, like a barrier. "Honey, its okay! We know whats best for her!" Rei spoke. Shotou nodded. "Yes. You said so yourself." Fuyumi spoke this time. "We're her family! We wouldn't hurt her!" Touya walked towards Enji. "Besides, if something happens, you promised you would save her, won't you?" Enji nodded. "Of course." "Then trust us. Like you always have." Natsuo said. Enji's eyes moved towards you. You opened your mouth to say something but all of a sudden, Enji was pushed out of the room and the door slammed closed. Enji jumped to the door when he heard your painful, gut wrenching screams. "DAD! STOP THEM! HELP ME! DAD!" Enji kept on banging his fists on the door but the door wouldn't budge.

Then it was silent. All too quiet. The door creaked open a bit. Enji didn't know if he wanted to see whats behind there anymore, but he still pushed the door open. How he wish he hadn't.

Lying on the floor, blood spilled from your mouth and your gut. Your body bore burns and scorch marks, the smell of burnt flesh wafting through the air. Enji fell to his knees. Its too late. "D-daddy? It- hurts."your voice was so quiet, so soft, he almost didn't hear you. "Save me?"you coughed out more blood, with each word. Enji started crying. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-I can't." Your eyes dimmed when he said that, your chest finally stopped moving.

Enji finally woke up from his recurrent nightmare. He had been haunted by them ever since your death. Sad thing is, they didn't stray that far from reality. You had come to him many times, begging for help, but he turned you away, assuring you that they're just messing around, that it was an accident, or it was just a one time thing.

It wasn't.

Enji couldn't count how many times you had told him how his family had been hurting you, before you stopped asking all together when you realised he would always take their side.

It took a few minutes for Enji to register that he wasn't lying in his bed, or was in his home for that matter.

Enji groans as he sits up, rubbing his head. He remembers he was at the graveyard and then Hawks was there too. Hawks must've brought him to his home.

Stupid bird. He should just mind his own business.

Enji got up and left the room, leaning against the wall for support as he made his way around the house. Where was Keigo anyways?

He was passing by a garden when he saw someone move there. Enji focused his eyes and saw...you. He sighed. Enji sat down on the porch that opened into the garden. He realised he must've had drank a lot yesterday. Clearly, the effects of intoxication were still there.

You were sitting next to some bushes, trimming up their rough edges, your face turned away from him. You were humming to yourself as you worked.

You always did like plants, flowers especially. That's why he made sure you were buried where there was enough space for some flowers and grass to grow.

"I see you've found her." Hawks handed Enji a cup of coffee. He didn't even realise when he had walked-

Wait.

"You can see her?" Enji asked. Was he still dreaming?

Hawks chuckled. "Of course. She's right there- Enji, did you drink again?"

Enji looked at you, then at Hawks, then back to you. "What?" There's no way. There's no way. Hawks looked at Enji weirdly before he called for you.

"Y/n! Sweetie, come here!" You whipped your head around at Hawks voice.

And Enji sees you.

He wasn't hallucinating. You're real.

You skipped towards them, smiling. And Enji didn't even realise it until you were right in front of them. You had eyes. They were different than your real ones. These new ones, they were the same colour as his. Sharp, turquoise blue.

Were you a doppelganger? Is this some kind of sick joke? He couldn't help but wonder, but some part of him knew that wasn't the case.

Enji stood up when you reached them, the cup falling from his hand.

"Hey, dad."

In a second, Enji had his arms wrapped around you. You're really there. You weren't dead. You're still alive. "Y/n? Is it really you?" Enji asked, tears falling from his eyes as he held you tighter, still in disbelief.

You hugged him back. "Yes. Who else would it be?" You chuckled.

He pulled you away from him, his eyes scanned your face. There was still some charring and faded scars around your eyes, but they were mostly healed. It really is you.

"B-but how?"

You smiled. "Hawks-"

It was like something snapped in him at the hero's name.

Enji suddenly pushed you behind him, taking a protective stance. "What the fuck did you do?!" He growled at Keigo.

Hawks held his arms up in surrender, trying to pacify the man in front of him. "Nothing. I just helped her." Enji pounced at Hawks, pushing him to the ground. He was going to murder Hawks if he even looked at you the wrong way. "Oh yeah? And what the fuck did you want in return, you sick bastard?!" Enji raised his hand to punch him, but he stopped when he felt your tiny hands pull on his arm. "Dad! Please, stop! He saved me! Please!" He could hear the fear in your voice. He got off Hawks and yanked you back to him. "Tell me. Did he threaten you? Harm you? Touch you?" Although Enji's eyes held concern for you, he was scaring you with his grip on your wrist turning painfully tight. "No! Please, stop." You replied, struggling as you tried to free your wrist.

"Enji, calm the fuck down! You're hurting her!" Hawks finally managed to pull his hand off of your wrist. As soon as he did, Enji saw his handprint around your wrist.

Fuck.

You moved behind Hawks, peeking at Enji from between his wings, your eyes pooling with unshed tears. Enji's heart sank.

Looking at your scared form, Enji couldn't help but recall how different it used to be before. How you used to run to him for help, seek his protection.

And now, you need to be saved from him.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Y/n. I didn't mean to." He reached his hand out for yours. When you moved further behind Hawks, his heart broke. You were scared of him. Your eyes holding the same fear as they once held for the rest of his family.

"Y/n, darling, why don't you go tend to the bushes. I need to talk to your father." You scurried away as soon as Hawks said that.

"She's scared of me." Enji's voice held guilt.

Hawks patted his back. "Don't worry. She'll come around soon."

Hawks sat on the porch step, motioning Enji to sit beside him as well. He sat but kept his eyes towards your form. "What happened, Keigo?"

"Well, when you had called me, informing me how Rei had stabbed Y/n, I came as quickly as possible. I remember you were holding Rei back, stopping her from entering the hospital room. Once your kids had arrived and taken their mother away, you told me to keep guard while you sorted out some hospital forms." Hawks took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Y/n had woken up a few minutes after you had left. And she started crying as soon as she was conscious. I tried calming her down, but she was- hysterical. She kept on saying how they were going to torture her again. I told her that Enji would make sure they wouldn't. She kept on insisting that you were going to take Rei's side." Hawks looked at Enji. "And you and I both know know, you would've." Enji held his head shamefully, because he was right. He would've taken his family's side yet again.

"She asked me to kill her, Enji."

Enji's eyes widened at that, turning his head to Hawks. "What?" Hawks nodded, his eyes stone cold. "She said she'd rather be dead than return to your house." Enji felt like someone had drove a spear through his chest. Oh god, how long had you been feeling like that? "Thats when I decided to take her."

"But how? We buried her." Hawks rolled his eyes.

"It isn't hard to find a body. You know that."

Enji nodded. Right. "And her eyes?"

"Got a quirk doctor to replace them."

Enji's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But Natsuo said that they were irreplaceable-"

"Natsuo lied, Enji. All of your kids did. They were going to side with their mother, no matter what. And Rei wanted her to remain blind, so everyone made sure she did." He took another sip of his coffee. "You have a fucked up family."

Enji clenched his jaw at that, but it was the truth. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Hawks raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You're hard to track. You went into hiding and I had to run your agency, clean up your mess so that the public doesn't find out and I had a daughter at home to look after too. I guess you could say, I was a bit occupied."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Enji looked towards where you were, happily tending to your garden, completely oblivious to your surroundings. You looked so lively, so content. "Is...is she happy?" Hawks smiled at that. He still adores you. "Yes. She stays at home mostly, tending to the garden, but she occasionally goes out as well."

Enji looked at Hawks. "Alone? What if she runs away? What if something happens to her?"

Hawks shook his head. "She won't. Where's she going to go? She knows that your kids are still out there, and if they ever saw her, God knows what they'll do to her." Hawks crossed his arms against his chest. "Besides, I gave her a special bracelet. It has a tracking device in it and if she ever runs into trouble, all she needs to do is tap it and I'll be there!"

Hawks really had it all figured it out. Everything was under control, so why was he there? "Why did you bring me?"

"To save you." Enji stared at him in confusion. "You can't live without her, Enji. The past few months are evidence that you can't. You almost drank yourself to death." Hawks ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Look at yourself. Your eyes are bloodshot, you drink, you smoke, you're depressed as fuck. Is this the kind of hero you imagined yourself becoming? Is this the kind of father you want to be?"

"Keigo I-"

"You know, she never spoke ill of you once. Never. If anything, she told me that her good memories with your family, were mostly with you. Almost like she misses you."

"What do you want me to do, Keigo?" He asked helplessly, because Enji truly didn't know.

"I want you to stay here." He began. "Be the hero she needs; the father she needs."

"Keep your promise to her." Hawks eyes were full with fierce emotion as he reminded Enji of his promise.

I'll keep you safe. I promise.

Those word had been echoing in his mind forever, always accompanied by gore filled images of you.

"Raise the family you always dreamt of."

As if something had finally clicked, Enji nodded before he slowly made his way towards you. Hawks watched as Enji sat down beside you and talked to you. You smiled slowly before handing him a pair of gardening gloves as you taught him how to plant some flowers.

It was a good thing that Hawks cared about both of you deeply.

He was happy he was going to save his hero, Endeavour.

He was happy that he was going to start anew with you guys.

He was happy as he saw the love of his life and his goddaughter, now daughter, playing in the mud.

He was beyond ecstatic when he had slit Rei's throat in the asylum.

"What?" Hawks asks you, the person reading this story. He leans towards you, face mere inches away from yours, and smirks.

"That bitch had it coming."

So...

How was it?

Oh and yes, I will be taking asks for this (and answering some previous ones as well)

[jujutsubabe]

“This is so pathetic”

Synopsis: In which you and Megumi get really touch starved after not seeing each other for too long 😌

Word count: 1.8k

A/n: reposting this cause the last one got super blocked! It got no likes at all omg

————

You laid in Megumi’s bed squinting up at a textbook you were supposed to be taking notes on. As you stared all the words blurred together the longer you went over them and Itadori’s mumbling as he read aloud made you lose focus.

You sighed before reaching over the bed to tap his head. “Itadori can you please read in your head.”

Nobora clicked her tongue from across the room, “You’re almost an adult and you still can’t read in your head!?”

“I can’t help it, it helps me focus better.” He whined.

“Well if you could, could you just,” you pinched your fingers, “quiet down a little more, I’d love that.”

“If you could read in your head I’d love that.” Nobora grinned.

As Itadori pouted you moved the text book up and down, trying to see if a change in movement would do you better. You squinted, glared, flipped pages, whatever, no matter what the words continued to jumble.

You dropped the book and looked over to Megumi, he sat at his desk effortlessly writing away. It looked as though he did this daily, skimming his eyes over the pages and flipping within seconds. He had filled notes piled all over his desk in messy, but organized stacks.

You turned your head to the few sheets of notes you took, with margins full of doodles. You had to write so much more information.

If only you, Nobora and Itadori hadn’t slacked off all day watching movies, you would be at the same level as him. Or better yet, finished!

You popped some candy Itadori bought into your mouth. You had all been studying for hours, you figured it could be time for a bit of movement.

You hopped over Itadori’s legs to the door, “I’m gonna get a drink from the vending machine, anyone wanna come?”

Nobora shook her head, “I’m good, can you bring two sodas for me though?” She fluttered her eyelashes until you rolled your eyes and held your hand out. She squealed before placing some quarters in your palm. “You can keep the change!”

“Thanks.” With what she gave you, you’d have enough change leftover to throw one penny at someone's car. “Anyone else?”

Megumi stood from his chair while Itadori looked up from his game, “I'll go.” They said at once.

They turned to each other, Itadori’s face full of interest while Megumi’s was full of anything but that. You didn’t like being around people for a long period of time, but he really didn’t like it. Especially when they were in his space for this long.

He did tell them to “go somewhere” but like usual you all didn’t listen and procrastinated all day. Leaving a loud group of teens within Megumi’s quiet space was torture, you swore if you squinted you could see him twitching every time anyone talked.

You looked between the boys, Megumi probably needed an excuse to go outside. You hoped Itadori would somehow get that.

Itadori cocked his head, not reading the room. “Nice! It’ll be the three of us the—”

Before he could finish Megumi already slipped out and slid the door shut, leaving Itadori hanging with his mouth open. Nobora laughed at him.

———————

The two of you walked in silence, Megumi thinking and you in your own little world. The sounds of your footsteps echoed as you walked along the pavement.

He wondered what you were thinking about as you hummed and blew on your hands. Your sweater didn’t have any pockets so you kept pulling your sleeves over them.

“Are you cold?” Megumi asked.

You nodded but continued to rub your hands together, “But we might get caught if we hold hands.”

The two of you were dating. Very secretly, only being romantic whenever you had definite private places to kiss and hold hands. If it was in public it would be you giving a quick peck to his cheek or his hand slipping into yours.

You two wanted it to be a quiet relationship, at least until your friends and teacher happened to catch you guys, which you were both very careful to avoid. He figured as soon as the group found out it would be full of so much chatter and teasing, something you both weren’t too interested in dealing with at the moment.

He flicked his eyes around the building then held his hand out, “No ones here.”

“Are you sure…? What if Gojo comes out of nowhere?” You checked your surroundings as you whispered.

The two of you silently listened for any rustling or footsteps of some kind. He continued to glance at you while your eyebrows pushed together, when you were focused on something he thought you had the sweetest expressions.

Even you looking frustrated made him feel soft, like today when you struggled with that book. It was cute and he couldn’t help but look at you every so often, whenever someone looked back at him he would turn and start writing something random down. He had a few piles of paper with random crap all over it… he really hoped Nobora or Itadori didn’t check his notes while he was gone.

He looked down at the hands by your sides, at this point he didn’t care if the relationship got exposed to everyone.

“Please.” He mumbled.

You pulled on your ears, leaning forward to hear him again. “Huh, what’d you say?”

He squirmed the longer you looked at him. “I didn’t say anything...” he looked away the closer you got to his face.

“You didn’t? I thought I heard you say something.” You backed down, teetering on your toes.

“I…” his tongue tied as he tried to spit out what he wanted to say. It felt like he was confessing to you all over again. He internally groaned as he lost courage to say the words that he felt were too embarrassing to share. “This is so pathetic…”

You grinned, “What are you trying to say? Is it that bad?”

He shook his head, covering his mouth as he circled his brain about how to say his thoughts. Get it together! You two are dating. This shouldn’t be that hard to express, why was he struggling so bad with this?

He glanced down at your hands, flickering his eyes between your face and them. You were shivering and he wanted to do something nice, and he also kind of didn’t see you all day. So he didn’t understand why it was so embarrassing to admit it.

You followed his gaze down before twisting your hand around. “Are you trying to ask if you can hold my hand?”

He frowned, it was even more embarrassing for you to catch onto him...

“So that’s what it was?” You pulled his hand away from his mouth, pulling it up to your lips. “That’s not bad, it’s cute.”

You gave a quick peck to his knuckles, making him let out a flustered noise he tried to eat up with a cough. His brows knitted together as he tried his best to look away, he must have felt overwhelmed or something, your hands were cold but so much warmth spread through his arm.

You two hadn’t held hands in so long, it was like that first sip of drinking cold water on a hot day. You were refreshing, well needed company after a long day.

He intertwined your hands correctly, fingers wrapped up in each other, held inbetween the center of you both.

“I missed you.” He whispered.

You grinned as you squeezed his hand, “I missed you too.”

He let out a sigh, letting the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as you two stared at each other. The crickets cooed and the wind wisped soundly against the grass, if you listened closer you could hear the whirring of cars on the main roads.

You turned your head closer to his, looking up to him as you cupped his cheek. Your eyes danced over every feature of his face as he looked down at you with his glossy, painted like eyes.

He leaned down, fluttering his pretty lashes shut as you pulled him in closer. Up until your lips touched, a light butterfly kiss that felt like a small cloud graced your face. You could feel him smiling the second your lips touched, his hands moved to your waist, pulling you in just a tad bit deeper.

Your lips were soft, pushing onto his with a gentle squish. He was a little too excited for this. But who could blame him? With the way you touched him it made him warm on the inside, you had him wrapped around your finger with every smooch.

You grazed his cheek with your hands pressing kisses all over his face. He felt himself go weak under your fingertips, every press of your lips against his face made his heart rise into his throat.

How did he get someone like you?

This felt right to him, pulling you away from friends for a night time kiss felt needed. You pulled away, tapping his cheeks while he blinked his eyes open.

His eyes glided over your features, the moon highlighting every lovely aspect of your face. He ran his thumb over your cheek, making space, about to give you one more kiss before he heard a gasp.

“Fushiguro you creep! What are you doing!?”

The two of you flipped around to see Nobora with Itadori trailing right behind her. Itadori’s face dropped open while Nobora’s face twisted into itself.

“Yeah Fushiguro, get it!” Itadori pumped his fist up and down.

You were blinking and taking in your surroundings, one second you were being romantic with your boyfriend, the next you were caught by your friends. You looked between the two wondering where they even came from.

“Why are you guys out here?”

“I didn’t tell you what sida to get and you two were taking a long time!” Nobora pinched your cheek until you apologized.

You rubbed the side of your face as you checked your pocket for change, you forgot she sent you out here. You were too caught up in this quiet boy’s eyes to realize people could have gotten suspicious if you didn’t hurry.

You sighed, nothing you could do now, Itadori was already embarrassing Megumi and you couldn’t help but giggle. As hectic as this situation was, at least now you two could show a tad more affection in public. Nothing more than holding hands, but this reaction from the two wasn’t bad.

You cocked your head, though sweet, this situation felt a little too calm… you looked around as you thought of something that was missing in this situation, like an almost full puzzle piece with one left to fill.

Itadori sighed, “I can’t believe Fushiguro started dating before us…”

“Right it’s not fair…” Nobora nodded solemnly.

Megumi scoffed as the two moped. Scolding them for ‘not minding their business’ as you laughed at them. It was so cute seeing your friends like this over your secret relationship, you couldn’t help but feel a tad bit happy your secret was released.

That was until you heard shuffling from around the corner. You all turned your heads until you heard a voice.

“Did I hear Megumi and dating in the same sentence?” Gojo slipped from the deep dark shadows below, a goofy smile wrapped around his cheeks.

Ah there it is, the missing piece.

[devildomdisaster]

Hi can I ask for the reaction of the demon brothers to the mc who always behaves fearlessly, but is afraid of a sharp clap and hides behind them?

Hi anon, this is my first ask for this blog so I hope it's what you wanted.

I got a bit carried away with this one so it ended up a bit long.

Normally fearless mc who hides behind the brothers after a loud noise

Lucifer:

Initially, Lucifer thinks that a human who has little to no magic ability (at least at first) is going to be helpless and frightened of almost everything. This is the Devildom after all, and demons would love to eat a sweet human soul.

But you routinely stand up not only to his brothers but to him.

Honestly, he finds it frustrating.

With no way to intimidate you Lucifer’s normal tactics to ensure proper behavior are rendered useless.

Not only that but you encourage his brothers to act up as well.

But your fearlessness has also endeared you to him.

Even more pride than normal radiates off him when he sees you put some lower-level demon or his brothers in their place. Even if he has to step in sometimes.

Lucifer discovers your fear as you walk into Ristorante Six and a waiter drops a tray of drinks behind you as you are being shown to your table

The tray hits the ground with a loud clatter

Lucifer turns at the noise but otherwise thinks little of the situation

You however are immediately hidden behind him, hands fisted tightly around handfuls of the back of his coat

He is surprised but quickly schools his expression into one of concern.

His first thought is if you are alright, did something on the tray somehow hit you?

He turns to you, taking your clenched fists into his hands.

For all intents and purposes you seem physically fine just…scared. Truly frightened.

Later when you have calmed down he might ask you about your reaction. But for now he will simply comfort you.

He pulls you into his arms whispering lowly into your ear, “there is nothing that can hurt you while I am here Mc. It’s alright.”

Once your breathing has slowed he’ll ask if you’d like to leave and go back to the house of lamentation.

If you were just startled he’ll spend the evening as planned, although he is far more aware of the movement of the surrounding demons. And any possible loud noises that could startle you again.

If you do want to go home he will gladly take you, he’ll propose a quieter evening, relaxing in his study listening to his records perhaps?

Mammon:

Oh, his fearless human!

He is oh so impressed at your bravery.

It’s almost reckless at times how little fear you seem to have in the face of demons.

This boy loves to watch you stand up to other demons or handle situations that others would consider frightening (especially for humans).

Your fearlessness makes you the perfect partner in crime for his schemes.

He loves the rush of getting away with his schemes and loves having you there to share that rush with even more.

Of course, when you do participate in his less than honest scheming, or even his honest ones, he is always there to protect you.

Watching you be fearless is fun but if anything could actually hurt you he is always aware of it. Ready to step in front of you at any moment. You’re his human after all. It wouldn’t due to have something harm you when he can prevent it.

You’re not even outside the house of lamentation when a rather peeved Lucifer comes into the kitchen. “Mammon!” he thunders with a loud slap of his hands on the counter.

You jump behind Mammon, face pressed into his back

One of Mammon’s arms unconsciously reaches behind him to shield you even more.

He is shocked at your reaction but the instinct to protect you kicks in instantly.

“Lucifer” Mammon warns quietly with a quick glance towards you behind him “could we maybe do this later I think Mc…” He trails off

Once Lucifer is gone, seeming to have gotten the gist of the situation, Mammon turns to you. one hand stroking your head gently until you look at him.

“Hey, Mc you’re ok. What’s gotten into ya?”

“The noise” you mumble. Half embarrassed, half still trying to calm your racing heart.

“Geez Mc, ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout stuff like that when I’m around”

He doesn’t quite understand why a loud noise would scare you but is more than willing to listen if you want to explain.

Levi

Levi doesn’t get you.

How can some magicless normie human not be afraid in the Devildom? Surrounded by actual demons? Whatever it’s not like he gets normies anyway.

But then he gets to know you and he actually likes you. You’re his Henry now, his player 2 or… whichever you prefer Mc. Even admitting this to himself is sometimes so hard.

Your whole fearlessness thing still confuses him, but it’s impressive too.

He enjoys being able to play horror games with you or watch horror anime without you being terrified.

It’s like nothing phases you. You can face down anything the Devildom throws at you. Levi thinks you’re so cool, it’s almost not fair!

He kind of wonders what actually scares you

He finds out one night when Asmo throws the door to his room open so hard it bounces off the wall with a loud slam.

Asmo is crowing about family bonding night and repainting Levi’s nails “because gaming isn’t all that matters Leviathan, and you should have been in the living room half an hour ago!”

Levi groans at Asmo’s outburst. Then pauses, blinks slowly, and realizes you’re hidden behind him quaking in…in fear?

His demon form slips out quietly and he wraps his tail around your waist protectively.

He doesn’t understand why you’re frightened but he’s got you covered normie.

“Ohhh, I didn’t know you were playing that kind of game!” Asmo grins purposely misreading the situation. “You and Mc can come down when you’re done.” he sings, shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

Levi’s face is so red, he opens and closes his mouth several times before any words make it out.

“M-mc did did Asmo do something to you? or?” He’s trying to figure out what’s got you so scared.

But he’s still so flustered from Asmo’s teasing that he can’t turn to face you. Instead, he keeps his tail protectively and hopefully comfortingly around your waist.

“No” you sniff “the noise. When the door, it just”

“Oh, good. Not good-good! I mean good that Asmo didn’t do anything.”

You’re both silent for a long moment as Levi composes himself and turns around. Levi finally has time for his surprise to hit him. This is what you are afraid of? He never would have guessed. Still, he doesn’t think any less of you. How could he? Everyone’s got their things, their fears.

“Thanks, Levi,” You say, tapping his tail gratefully.

You get to watch the red bloom across his face this time.

Satan

You being fearless is intriguing and impressive.

He has read about all sorts of phobias and a part of him wants to expose you to some common ones just to see if any of them scare you.

But he won’t.

He likes you too much for that.

You aren’t afraid of pranking Lucifer with him.

Or of late-night library searches, or cursed books, or most importantly of him.

He expected you to be afraid of him, he is the avatar of wrath after all, and his anger can and has made him lose control.

But you're not the least bit afraid of him. He truly appreciates that.

While cooking dinner the loud clatter of a pot falling to the floor and splashing its contents to the ground makes him curse and then sigh, but it makes you jump behind him.

hm? Oh. Oh!

With one hand gripping his shoulder and the other clutching his shirt, it only takes a moment for him to recognize your fear.

He realizes pretty quickly that it must have been the loud noise.

There’s a part of him, the same part that had wanted to test you for hidden phobias, that is immensely satisfied with this new information about his favorite human. Excited even.

Satan feels that knowing there is something that scares you makes you more real.

He almost chuckles at your reaction.

Instead, he guides you to a seat and as he straightens lets his knuckles brush your cheek gently.

“Are you alright Mc?”

He waits until the shock and fear have worn off before cleaning up the mess on the floor.

He knew there had to be something that scared you, he just hopes this fear isn’t tied to any…unpleasant people or situations in your life. Just the thought of that erases all his satisfaction at discovering your fear.

If you’re still a bit rattled he’ll keep you distracted, while he finishes cooking, with tales of the Devildom and the new installment of his favorite mystery show or the new novel he’s reading that he thinks you might like.

If you have recovered he’ll gladly accept your help finishing dinner.

Asmo

Asmo loves your fearlessness.

He thinks it makes you even more attractive.

He says that other than your magical potential it was one of the things that led him to make a pact with you.

“Nothing seemed to phase you, I just had to know more!”

Drags/brings you shopping a lot partly just to watch you stare rude demons down.

Of course, he is always there just in case a demon doesn’t get the point, but he takes a kind of pleasure in seeing demons try and fail to intimidate you, before leaving in shock and shame at being unable to scare a mere human.

He doesn’t let you get into dangerous situations if he can help it. Being confident and fearless is all well and good Mc, but you are still a human and demons can be dangerous.

During one of your shopping trips, there is a loud clap of excitement from a demon when they find what they were looking for.

You gasp and duck behind Asmo.

He turns an amused smile on his face.

“Mc, how can you possibly help me look for my size when you…oh!

As he sees your face he understands. You’re afraid.

He is flattered that you chose to hide behind him for protection. He thinks it shows how much you truly trust him.

He takes your hand in his, even as his head tilts slightly trying to figure out what scared you.

It all clicks a moment later. The noise.

He grips your hand a bit tighter and guides you out of the store, away from the situation.

Asmo knows that your reaction could have just been from being startled but he also knows that it could be tied to a deeper fear of something or someone.

He hopes you were just startled but makes sure you know that he will always protect you from your fears. Minor or serious.

If you let him he will have a whole self-care spa day with you after you get back to the house of lamentation.

Beel

Beel is impressed by a fearless human.

Especially one with little to no magic when first coming to the Devildom.

But he is also concerned for you.

He worries you might do something reckless.

So he makes sure to be around in order to make sure you stay safe.

Will 100% eat a lesser demon who tries to harm you.

Beel wants you to be safe.

But he is glad that your fearless nature gives you the confidence to explore more of the Devildom than just RAD classes.

He is so happy when you want to go somewhere new with him, maybe to a restaurant or cafe you haven’t tried yet.

The first time you hide behind him is after the wind blows a chair over at a nearby table outside a cafe.

You are on your feet in an instant

And in the next, you are almost cowering behind him.

Beel is startled.

He doesn’t understand why you seem so afraid.

But he pulls you into his arms anyway.

Beel comes right out and asks you about your reaction.

When you explain that it was the loud noise Beel nods.

He wants to ask if you were just startled or if there is more to your fear but doesn’t want to overstep.

He’ll wait until you are headed back to the house to ask.

Whatever your answer is he’ll accept it and in the future act accordingly to prevent you from being afraid.

Belphie

Honestly hates how fearless you are at first.

It annoys him and he wants to make you afraid of him…until he doesn't.

And the complete 180 surprises even him.

He still wonders how a human can be so fearless and kind of wonders if it's all an act you use to protect yourself.

Even so, he’s still impressed that you can be fearless in the Devildom.

He’s another one who likes to see you tell other demons to get lost.

He thinks that a human chasing off a Demon in the realm of demons is hilarious.

On the way to RAD one morning what sounds like a loud clap causes Belphie to turn and see another demon being slapped.

He goes to make a snide comment to you, only you aren’t standing next to him anymore.

Instead, you are tucked behind him holding tightly to his uniform jacket.

“Um, Mc? What exactly are you doing?”

And that’s when it all comes out.

The noise had scared you so much you had hidden behind him.

Belphie just shrugs. It’s surprising sure, considering all the other things you’ve seen and experienced in the Devildom. But hey you are a human, something was bound to scare you eventually.

He’s curious if you are just easily startled or if you have a fear of sudden loud noises.

Unlike his brothers (*Satan) he is curious enough to test you and see which it is.

Unless you come out then and there to tell him you have a fear of loud noises he will plan out a ‘prank’ to startle you again.

If it turns out it’s not a fear caused by anything serious and you are just easily startled he will use it against you occasionally, at least until he is bored of your reaction or you ask him to stop.

But he doesn’t want to hurt you, emotionally or physically. If it’s a genuine fear he’d never use it against you. And he’d personally end anyone who did.

[skzsauce01]

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’  are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.  

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

The coffee and the cup (Jeong Yunho/Smut)

Ateez Masterlist                                       Group Masterlist 

A/N: You bet your ass this was inspired by the pottery video. I was also inspired by a lot of ceramics artists I follow on instagram and thought this was fun.

This is a feel good story, no bad things, just good. Just wanted a feel good thing. 

Tags: Potter! Yunho x Café owner reader!, Fem! reader, a lot of pining and sweet glances, coffee, a freshly starting relationship, love confessions, Hongjoong that likes to judge

Smut tags: Very sweet, gentle, soft dom! Yunho, marking, oral (female receiving), Fingering (female receiving), scratching, Praise, teasing, Unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all)

Word count:  8046 (I don’t do short stories) 

There was something utterly comforting about the feeling a café could give you. It was something that you had always enjoyed, from being in middle school, getting cookies and chocolate milk before school, to high school and college where you did all day study sessions, cafe’s had become a safe haven for you. Therefore it was only natural that you had grown up with a dream of starting your own. 

With the little money you had managed to save up and the help from your family, your cafe had become a reality. A reality that you never thought would happen. It was even more surreal as you unpacked your first groceries and placed them in the pantry and refrigerator, looking around your place. Your place.

It was small, with only two, two persons tables indoor and two outdoors, it was more a “grab a drink and go” type of place and it was perfect for you. It was seated in a small street, filled with small locally owned businesses and what better way to introduce yourself, than to bake. 

A classic lemon blueberry muffin was the taste of coming home, the taste you wanted to sell at your store, a taste you wanted to give your fellow shop owners. You wanted people to feel comforted at your place, so you made something comforting with a little twist, so that everybody could see what type of person you were. Baking was your second love to coffee, so you went to work making around 30 muffins. The delicious smell filling your store and placing a smile on your face. Nothing could drag your day down, not that day.

Once the muffins had cooled enough from coming out of the oven, you packaged them carefully and placed them all in a little wicker basket, setting off to say hi to your neighbors. Starting with the little music instrument store right next door. The owner wasn’t what you expected at all, young, well dressed with one painted nail on each hand, going by the name Hongjoong. He greeted you with an amazing smile, wondering how he could help you.

“Welcome! Can I help you find anything?” He asked and you couldn’t help but beam a smile back at him. “No believe me you wouldn’t want me playing any instruments. I bought the café next door and wanted to introduce myself!” You said raising your basket to show him. “Oh! Welcome to the neighborhood!” He shook your free hand, smiling at you brightly. “So you’re going to be providing us caffeine from now on. I greatly appreciate it.” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh. It’s nice that people were missing a café here, gave you hope that you would do well.

You grabbed one package of muffins and placed them on his counter. “I hope you like lemon blueberry muffins. I made them from scratch and well they’re my personal favorite.” You explained and he tore into the packaging quickly. “I’m partial to anything made with bread.” He said, pulling apart a muffin and popping a piece into his mouth. “Oh, everyone around here is going to love these. You should head to Wooyoung’s restaurant down the street, Yeosang’s skate shop, Oh and Yunho’s little store next door. He might eat you out of house and home but oh boy he might become your best customer. These are delicious.” He complimented and you felt a sigh of relief. No matter how many people tried your food and drinks, you still got anxious when it came to their opinions. “I’ll head there now. Would be nice to have a customer before we even open.” You said softly and Hongjoong nodded. “He’s loyal too. If he likes what you have, he’ll never go anywhere else.” He added, making you laugh.

The sound of the door opening behind you made you glance in that direction, seeing a teenage boy looking around the instruments. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” You said, heading for the door. “Thank you again for the muffins and if you ever need any help with anything, don’t be stranger.” Hongjoong told you, making you feel all warm in your chest. He was incredibly kind, you could tell from the way he carried himself. “I won’t. Have a good day!” You said, waving as you exited his store. 

It was an incredibly good day out, sun brightly shining down on you as you walked to the little shop next to the music store. The bell signaled that you entered the building, but there was no one in sight. You stood by the door a moment, not wanting to overstep boundaries even if it was a store to shop in. Not only for that reason though, you were scared to knock something over and break it. 

The store was filled with shelves lining the bright yellow painted walls, on those shelves were a bunch of clay made works. From little figurines to beautifully sculpted plates, vases and mugs coated with bright paint. It was all so colorfull and bright, making a large smile pull over your lips. 

However, no one came to the front so you remained still another moment before calling out. “Hello?” You asked, holding on to your basket and leaning forward to see if you could spot anyone. “Hello?” You asked again, not really expecting a response but wanting to make sure. 

“Come on to the back, I can’t open the door back here because my hands are really dirty!” A voice called out and spotted the door that muffled it. You maneuvered yourself carefully to not knock things over as you made your way to the door, spotting a few mugs and plates you wouldn’t mind adding to the café’s collection on your way. You stood in front of the door not quite knowing what to expect when you opened the door, but you did it anyways. 

It lead to a little studio, with big windows in the back and more shelves lining the room. In the middle sat a pottery wheel with what looked like a half finished vase resting on it. But what was really eye catching, was the man washing his hands by the sink in the corner.

He was tall, with long legs, dark hair and broad shoulders. Wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt that had clay stains all over them. Then he turned around, finally exposing his face to you and you seemingly felt your knees get weak. Never in your life had you seen eyes like his, so big and full of emotion. It only made the stripe of dried clay on his cheek seem even cuter. 

“Can I help you with anything?” He asked, drying his hands before walking towards you. Lifting your basket, you had a hard time finding words for a moment as he smiled at you. “I- uh- Hongjoong next door sent me over. I bought the café 2 doors down and wanted to introduce myself.” You explained, watching his smile get even bigger. You quickly stuck your hand out to his and he looked down at it, taking it gently. “I’m Y/N.” You said, really taking note of the way his eyes sparkled. “I’m Yunho.” 

Now Yunho knew it wasn’t really all that common for people his age to make a living off of pottery and art. But he saw that as a challenge, a challenge he took head on and had managed to do it. It was his passion, it was what he was good at and well, the looks of surprise on people’s faces when they asked him what he did for a living was an added plus. 

Now he hadn’t been expecting any visitors that day so he was taking the time to create a vase he had been thinking about making. But he wasn’t mad at the interuption at all, especially not one in such cute packaging. Your yellow sundress was inviting, your pink cheeks even more so and not to mention the wicker basket with baked goods. You looked like the angel of his own personal heaven. 

“I made muffins, they’re lemon blueberry.” You said, pulling the two packaged muffins out of the basket and handing them to him. You were feeling incredibly shy suddenly, even though the man was radiating nothing but a positive energy. “Oh! You said Hongjoong sent you?” Yunho asked, taking the packaging. You nodded at his words and he let out a hearty laugh. “He knows my kryptonite, baked goods.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his words as he took one more step closer to you. 

“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what are you making?” You asked, gesturing to the pottery wheel. Yunho’s eyes widened at your interest before moving back towards the wheel. “I was asked to make a vase specifically for calla lillies. The design needed to be ‘unique’ according to the client.” He laughed and you took a step closer to look at the clay better. Unique was definitely an accurate description for it, but beautiful none the less. “It’s really pretty.” You said and looked back at him. He was watching your response to his work, finding it endearing how focussed you were on it. 

“I have something for you.” Yunho said quickly, wanting to welcome you to neighborhood properly. He gestured for you to follow him back to the front of the shop as he scanned his shelves for something. “Something for me?” You asked, following him as looked around. “Yes, something for you. To welcome you to the neighborhood.” He said sounding incredibly cheerful which made butterflies fill your stomach.

It was funny how Yunho had taken a few looks at you and instantly had a piece of his in mind to gift you. It just seemed like it suited you, with your bright choice in muffin flavors and the sunny aura that you had radiated to him. It was just an obvious choice to him. 

“There they are.” He said, pulling 2 mugs from the back of a shelf. They were made for a large cup of coffee, with sunflowers molded onto them and painted. They were very pretty and something you most definitely would have picked out for yourself. He quickly shuffled to his counter, wrapping them with paper for protection and placing them in a little bag. Yunho was a little scatterbrained, self admittedly, but it was only natural to get a little extra nervous when there was a pretty girl in front of him. 

“I hope these get put to good use when the café opens.” He said, as he wrote something on a card and slipped it into the bag. You caught a glimpse of his handwriting, noting how messy and cute it was before looking away again. “I’ll definitely put them to good use. I’ll make sure to serve my first cup of coffee in one.” You promised and Yunho could feel his ears burning red. “Good.” He said softly, sliding the bag in your direction. “The shop opens in 2 days, I would enjoy it if you stopped by.” You said softly as you grabbed the bag and placed it in your basket. “I’ll be there for sure.” He said, simply standing and looking at you. You admittedly were doing the same, finding yourself getting absolutely lost in those eyes before tearing yourself away. “I have a few more stops to make-” You started, walking towards the door because you were embarrassed for staring. 

“I really hope you enjoy those muffins.” You finished, placing your hand on the door handle and looking back at him one more time. “I most definitely will.” Yunho smiled, watching you leave his shop before leaning down and pressing his forehead against the counter. He hadn’t had a rush from someone in a long time, you were like a shot of caffeine and he had you on his mind for the rest of the day. 

You had brought around the rest of your muffins before coming back to your shop. It was now late in the afternoon and the had calmed down quite a bit. You had discovered that your new little neighborhood was close, tight knit. Everyone seemed to know eachother and something about that was quite comforting. Wooyoung’s resaurant was incredibly home-y with delicious food (he had forced you to sit down and enjoy some food) and Yeosang’s skate shop was just adorable with a lot of custom boards there and they all seemed to know eachother quite well. It was helping you realise you had chosen the right spot, you needed the support. 

Sitting down at a table, you placed your basket down as well. The whole afternoon you had been curious about what Yunho had written down on the card. It was on your mind the whole time and well so was he. He was quite magnetic, awkward and just very cute, you really couldn’t help it. 

Pulling the mugs from the bag, you unwrapped them carefully so that you can take in the details more. You hadn’t really gotten the chance to before, you were entirely too focussed on something or rather someone else. You held one of the mugs in your hand, looking it over and running your fingers over the smooth ridges. It was all so incredibly detailed and such a sweet gift. 

You put the mug down and pulled the card from the bag. It was just simple cardstock with no design on it, only his writing and you felt the butterflies bubble back up as you read.

“I thought it was a good day because of the weather, but I guess it was because you were in the neighborhood. I can’t wait to stop by your café when it opens, but I would love it even more if you would go on a date with me, maybe let me teach you how to sculpt. I’ll leave my number for you. 

It was nice meeting you, sunshine.

- Yunho

P.S the mugs are handwash only”

You laughed at the last sentence holding the letter to your chest as you did so. A date with Yunho, it was all so sweet. Not to mention his nickname for you had you swooning. 

Pushing yourself up from the table, you placed the mugs on the counter and put the card by your store’s phone. It was too soon to call right away, but you were definitely going to call. There was no doubt about that, you could feel a connection with him instantly and you couldn’t help but mentally thank Hongjoong for that. 

-

Time had seemingly slipped away from you after that day. You had been incredibly busy the day after, getting everything ready and prepared for your grand opening. Baking what you could, grinding coffee beans and preparing mugs, plates and other items. You weren’t expecting a huge turnout or anything... but it never hurt to be prepared. 

But that coupled with your anxiety for doing well, you seemingly forgot about Yunho’s number that was just waiting to be called by your phone. It was purely accidental that it happened, that it had all slipped your mind. 

But you were quickly reminded of it when he stood in front of you, after you had given one of your first customers their order of coffee and an oatmeal cookie. There he was, standing in front of you at 10 a.m, wearing a lightly striped button down tucked into black jeans. Considerably more dressed up than the last time you had seen him, however this image of him made you think of his number and you panicked. 

“Oh my god Yunho, I forgot to call.” You said, clasping a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. You felt absolutely horrible at the realization however Yunho could only laugh. “It’s alright, it’s alright sunshine. I figured you were busy with the opening and everything so I didn’t take it to heart.” He smiled at you and you pouted. “I feel really bad. What can I do to make it up to you?” You asked, walking around your little counter because from what you could tell, there were no more customers left to serve aside from him in the café. 

Your response was just so cute to him, he didn’t think you owed him anything at all. He gave you his number and it was your choice to call him or not. However he still would have really like that date, especially seeing you again. You were wearing a simple orange, shin length, floral skirt with a black t-shirt tucked into it and an apron fastened around your waist. You were... sunny to him. 

“You don’t have to make it up to me, you don’t owe me anything. But I would still like to know if you would like to go on a date with me?” He asked and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief at his question. “Oh and I would love another lemon blueberry muffin. I ate both alarmingly fast the other day.” He added on quickly, laughing as he did so. He didn’t want you to feel pressure, at all. Yunho wanted you to go out with him because you wanted too, not anything else. 

You looked down to the ground in attempts to hide the blush on your cheeks, before pulling yourself together and finally looking up into his eyes. “I can definitely do a date and I can also definitely do a muffin.” You said and quickly disappeared behind your counter again. Yunho watched with adoration as you did, incredibly happy but trying to keep things cool. 

“Here is your muffin... would you like anything else?” You asked, handing him the packaged treat and his fingers grazed yours. “No, I got what I came for.” Yunho said and reached for his wallet. “No, it’s on the house.” You stopped him and he looked at you, opening his mouth to  say something. “I know you said I don’t owe you anything but, just take it. For my own sake.” You explained and he bit down on his lip to keep his smile to a minimum. “Thank you.” He said softly, back away from the counter because how much he was beaming. 

“Call me to set up the date tonight? Okay?” He said, now leaning in the open door of the café. “I will. I definitely will this time.” You said and he nodded, walking away and letting himself smile fully. 

Your first day was incredibly good, a total of almost 50 customers which really wasn’t much but still good and a date settled with an absolutely beautiful man. It was just a good day, you smelled like coffee when you got home and there was nothing better than that. Life was coming together. 

-

He had set things up in such a specific way, he wanted this to be perfect. Something about you drew Yunho in so much, he didn’t want to mess this date up at all. It meant a lot to him. 

So when you showed up to his store again, ready for your date, he had his heart in his throat. He had told you to wear something you wouldn’t mind that got dirty and well you listened, showing up in overall you deemed your “paint overalls” the ones you would wear while painting your house and some beat up Converse sneakers. Yunho was wearing the same clothes from the day you had first met and waiting inside his store when you appeared at the door. 

“You look very cute.” Yunho commented, the second you entered the building and your cheeks flushed red. “I’m used to people starting conversations by saying hello.” You said, leaning onto the counter he was stood behind. He mimiced your actions, face getting closer to yours. “Hello. You look very cute.” He teased and you looked down to avoid his gaze with a soft smile. “Anyways, what are we doing today?” You asked, standing back up fully and slipping your hands into your pockets. 

“Well, do you need anything else for your shop?” Yunho asked and you took a moment to think. “I was thinking about stopping by for some small, single flower vases. To see if you even had anything like that. Why?” You asked and he pushed himself off the counter. 

Now if you had said no, he would have sat you down to make something random just to have fun. But now he was going to give you something you could absolutely make use of and hopefully something to remind you of him. 

“I figured I could teach how to make them, something you want exactly.” Yunho said, scratching the back of his head because he was now completely questioning his own idea. “Oh!!! I would absolutely love that!” You said, needing to contain your excitement. Something about a date like this really touched your heart and even if this wouldn’t go anywhere, you know you would remember it for the rest of your life. 

He let out a sigh of relief before leading you to his studio, where he had set up a picnic blanket on the floor next to the large windows with a basket filled with treats. You couldn’t help but place your hand on your chest, your heart pounding because of how sweet he was. 

“Jeong Yunho, I do believe you are a romantic.” You said, gesturing to the blanket and he had to hold back a laugh. “Maybe just a little bit... I just thought we could talk a bit while the clay is in the kiln.” He explained, well rambled more. He was absolutely making your heart melt and there was no doubt about it. 

He sat you down behind the wheel after preparing everything for you, the damp clay sitting on top of the wheel. You looked up at him, questioning what to do because this was completely foreign territory to you. “Start spinning the wheel and wet your hands in that bowl and just start feeling around the clay a bit. Get a feel of what you’re doing.” He said, crouching down by your side. You followed his instructions, under his carefull gaze.

Yunho had guided your hands carefully from next to you, until you had accidentally placed way too much pressure on the clay and denting the form. “Oh, uhh let me see if I can fix that.” Yunho said, seeing how you struggled to get it back the way it was. You stood and he took your seat, his height when sitting coming up to your shoulders. He was mesmerizing to watch as he sculpted, eyes focussed on the wheel and lips kind of pursed. He was just so pretty. 

“I think I get it.” You said and he looked at you in confusion. “This suits you, sitting here behind the pottery wheel, working with your hands. It really suits you. You’re completely in your element. It’s really beautiful to see.” You explained further and he allowed the wheel to slow down, to look up at you. 

You didn’t even realise how close you were until you felt his breath fan over your lips and you suddenly felt excitement in your chest. So you made a split second decision, you made a judgement call. 

Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his very soft looking, plump lips. Yunho was caught off guard, not having expected that at all but not complaining either. In the few hours you had maybe spent together, there was something completely undeniable there. 

Now admittedly, the kiss was too long for it to be a peck and that was because Yunho could’ve sworn he tasted strawberry on your lips. It left him wanting more, so he deepened the kiss and for a moment you forgot your hands were covered in wet clay. You cupped his face, only for him to laugh against your lips and you realised your mistake. 

“Oh my God, I am so sorry.” You said, pulling away and looking at your hand prints on his cheeks. Yunho couldn’t stop laughing, maybe because of how ridiculously funny the situation was or maybe because of the pure joy he was feeling. “I got too caught up - I- I- completely forgot my hands were-.” You explained in frustration, really wanting to cover your face in embarrassment but deciding against it with better judgement. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Can you just maybe wash your hands and then hand me that washcloth by the sink?” He asked and you did as told quickly bringing him the damp cloth to help him get your marks off of him. His cheeks and ears were flushed the whole time as you did so, eyes following your movements and reading the concern on your face. “It’s really okay.” Yunho laughed, comforting you a little more but you couldn’t help but stay embarrassed. “It’s definitely a story to tell. Not my best first kiss admittedly.” You said and pushed your hair out of your face, not your brightest moment most definitely. 

“I mean, I could act like it didn’t happen. Or we could just have a do over?” Yunho suggested, placing the cloth down on the counter and looking at you with a cheeky smile. He just wanted to make sure it was really strawberry he was tasting on your lips. “A do-over?” You asked, crossing your arms and looking up at him. 

His hands came up to your waist, pulling you a tad closer by the belt loops of your overalls before leaning down to your level again. You cupped his face, allowing your thumbs to run over the smooth skin of his cheeks and smilled to yourself. “Oh sunshine, you’re just the cutest.” He said softly and closed the space inbetween you too. This was it, this was what it was supposed to feel like. Butterflies flying around your stomach and your heart pounding in your chest because of how badly you wanted to kiss someone. This was right. 

Your hands moved from his cheeks to his hair as he deepened the kiss, tasting that sweet strawberry flavor again and making a mental note to ask you about it later. His hands held your waist gently, not moving in any way in fear of overstepping his boundaries. 

Pulling away again, this time with a considerable less amount of embarrassment, you placed your hands on his chest gently. “You see, that’s what I was trying to do.” You said softly, toying with the fabric of his shirt. “I figured.” He said in response, letting eachother go in the process. “Your lips taste like strawberries, as if you couldn’t get any more sweet.” Yunho commented, just looking at you with mild disbelief as you sat behind the pottery wheel again. You knew exactly why you tasted that way, you were experimenting with strawberry creme for on top of cupcakes and had to taste test it.

“Come by the café some more and I’ll show you why.” You smiled cheekily and started to spin the wheel again, wanting to finish your vase. “Hmm, sounds good. It sounds like another date.” 

- 

“That’ll be 7.50.” You said cheerily before going to pour her coffee and grab her 2 slices of coffee cake. You handed her, her items and waved her out of the store before letting out a sigh. There was a dip in how busy it was and you had a moment to relax. 

“I just noticed that your customer service voice is the same as your regular voice.” Hongjoong said from the table closest to your counter. He had been coming in on his breaks to hang out and talk and well this was one of those times. “Is it? I never noticed.” You asked with a raised brow, Hongjoong shook his head at you. “I can’t believe your just genuinely that sweet.” He commented and went back to looking on his phone. 

“Of course Y/N’s that sweet.” Yunho’s voice came in from behind you, knowing he came in through the back. His hands moved to your hips from behind and rested his head on your shoulder. “They even smell cake 90% of the time.” He added on before kissing your cheek. This earned a blush from you and a sigh coupled with an eyeroll from Hongjoong. 

“Disgustingly cute.” Hongjoong grumbled, standing from his seat and grabbing his coffee. “I’ll be taking this to go.” He added, leaving your cafe to give you both a shred of privacy. 

Laughing, you turned around in Yunho’s arm and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hi.” You said softly, toying with the hairs on the back of his neck. A few months in and you were incredibly close, ridiculously in love. The whole neighborhood knew, the whole neighborhood thought it was disgustingly cute and well you were incredibly happy. 

“Hi.”  He said back, leaning you backwards to press you against your counter. He had been missing you all day, all week more like. With the school breaks on top of general vacation days, business had been going quite well. But that also meant a little less time together. Which was alright, that was healthy but God Yunho was missing you. 

He kissed your cheek, moving his lips over your skin lightly to pay you some special attention because there was no one in the cafe anyways and there was just something about getting you so flustered. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You asked, taking a deep breath as his lips moved over your neck and down to the neckline of your dress. “When can I get you alone for more than 5 minutes?” Yunho asked, pulling his lips away from you again. He could tell you were breathing a little heavier and your cheeks were flushed, exactly what he wanted. 

“I think I have more than 5 minutes of alone time after work.” You explained, only for his lips to find the base of your neck again. His hands were now massaging your sides, bunching up your dress slightly when the bell of your door rang. 

“I forgot my phone and I’m glad I saw this so that I can leave a bad review on yelp.” Hongjoong said and you both pulled away from eachother quite quickly. “Come by the shop after you close up okay sunshine?” Yunho said, trying to hide his embarrassment as Hongjoong gave him a dirty look.

“I will.” You said, quickly pecking his lips one more time before he exited your shop. You were a total shade of pink because of the way Hongjoong was looking at you. “Don’t say anything.” You said, pointing your finger in his direction the second Yunho left. He started laughing, grabbing his phone from the table. “You two are so in love it’s disgusting. Get married already, have coffee filled, artsy babies.” He teased and you shook your head. “It seems like you two were half way there already, wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t walk in.” He added and you turned away, suddenly feeling the need to keep your hands busy. 

“Probably nothing, we haven’t gone that far. Doubt it would’ve happened in broad daylight, in an open café.” You said, now wiping down a fully clean counter to get out of your own mind. You wanted to take that next step with Yunho and he seemingly wanted to take that step too. 

So you made your way over to his shop after closing, checking the way you looked in the reflection on the windows before entering. You weren’t nervous, at all actually. Everything felt certain with him and so did this. You instantly walked to studio portion of his shop, anticipation in your chest as you pushed the door open. 

“Hey you closed early.” Yunho said as he cleaned his counter by the sink. “I did. Thought maybe we could stretch those 5 minutes into a few hours.” You said softly, walking behind him to hug him from behind. You missed him the last few days too, you were definitely realising it while holding him. “You can’t just kiss me like that in the middle of the day and leave.” You mumbled against him as his hands found your, drawing shapes into your skin with his fingers. 

“Sorry about the inconvenience.” He chuckled and pulled you to stand in front of him, wedging you between him and the counter. “Big inconvenience. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” You leaned back onto the counter as Yunho took a step forward. His thigh, wedging between your legs as he did so. He was completely hovering over you, hands finding purchase on your hips. “Maybe that’s what I wanted.” His voice was a tone lower than normal, making your tongue dart out to wet your lips. 

You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him close because you really couldn’t wait much longer and kissed him. Yunho loved it when he brought you to that point because he found it oh so endearing when you needed him so badly. 

Using his hands, he lifted you up onto the counter fully making your dress bunch up slightly. His hands moved down to the newly exposed flesh of your thighs as his tongue slipped into your mouth. This, this was what drove him insane because everytime he kissed your lips you tasted so sweet. 

You tugged his hair as his grip on you tightened, making him groan against your lips. “How do you do it, you always taste so sweet?” He asked with his forehead pressed against yours. You leaned forward a little, making your core come into contact with his denim clad thigh and you whimpered before answering him. “That’s for me to know and you to be amazed by.” Shaking his head at your answer, he pressed his lips to yours again absolutely not caring if it was sloppy or not. 

He continued to pull your hips down, making your core rub over his thigh and you couldn’t help but pull his hair harshly. This made him nip down on your bottom lip before moving his hands to hike up the skirt of your dress. He was absolutely obsessed with how soft your skin was in his hands every new inch that was revealed, didn’t disappoint. 

Moving his lips down your neck again, he made sure to nip down on your skin and making you gasp. Yunho was going with intent to leave marks, there was just something that made him compelled to do so. His hands moved to your waist to drag you closer to edge of the counter and closer to him. His fingertips finding the hem of your panties to toy with them, making heat pool between your legs even more. 

His mouth stopped at the neckline of your dress, before he looked up at you. “Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging on your dress slightly. The little question making heat rise to your cheeks. “Yes, you can.” You answered softly, helping him lift the fabric off of your body. You were about to throw your dress to the side when took it from you, folding it before laying it down gently on a chair. You sat, kicking your legs slightly as you watched him because the action made your heart flutter. 

“Don’t want your dress to get dirty.” He said, turning back around to look at you. He could feel his heart stop a moment, you were incredibly just so incredibly beautiful to him. The dim lit room, coupled with your slightly swollen lips, pink cheeks and the fact that you were sitting there in nothing but your underwear, it was driving him insane. 

“God you look...” Yunho started, walking back to you to wrap his arms around your bare waist. You curled his hair between your fingers, looking him the eyes. “Absolutely beautiful.” His eyes sparkled as he spoke, making your whole body fill with warmth as he looked at you. You wrapped your legs around him, to pull him even closer to you. “I’m feeling a little self conscious here. Can you maybe?” You didn’t finish your sentence, just tugging on his shirt in hopes he’d get the message. He pulled it off of him and simply threw it on the ground, not giving it the same care he gave your dress. “I don’t care if that gets dirty.” He said before kissing your lips quickly and sinking down to his knees. 

Eye level with your core, he traced his fingers over your clothed slit slowly, looking at you to see your response. Your eyes were shut up and your lips were agape, body tensing as his finger grazed your clit. That was enough for him to hook his fingers into the lace, tugging your panties down your legs. You brought your hand to your face, taking your thumb between your teeth as Yunho pulled your legs over his shoulders. 

He feathered kisses over your thighs, squeezing them as he did so and inching closer and closer to where you needed him. “You’re going to tease me when I’ve already been thinking about you all day?” You asked, voice muffled by your own hand. He looked up at you again, eyes darker and blinking at you. “Yes, because it seems to be working.” He answered, dragging his fingers over your slit. “You’re so wet, Sunshine.” He finished, kissing your clit lightly and your hips bucked for more friction. 

He looked up at you one more time, taking a mental image of you with your finger caught between your teeth just staring at him before kissing you again. Allowing his tongue to move over your folds and tasting you. You attempted to clamp your legs shut at the sensation only for him to hold them open, not allowing you to go anywhere as he ate you out. Lips wrapping around your clit and making you moan out loud. Your hand moved to grip his hair, just wanting him even closer to you because fuck... he was making you feel so good. 

“Yunho-” You moaned, making his fingertips dig further into your thighs. “Sunshine, you even taste sweet.” He commented, kissing your thighs again as you tugged on his hair for more. “Baby please don’t stop.” You begged, nearly pouting as you did so because you were oh so close to cumming. 

He stood back up, face now level with yours again and you whined. “Relax.” He said softly, hand trailing down your body before cupping your core. His finger teased your hole while the other hand cupped your face, slipping a finger into and watching every expression as he did so. Yunho thrust his fingers into you harshly as your mouth fell open again. Eyes locked onto Yunho’s as he drew you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your fingers clawed at his arms as the coil in your stomach tightened. “Yunho, please.” You whined, feeling him insert another finger and stretching you out. 

He sped up his pace, feeling you tighten around his fingers and the scratching down his arms get harder. “Come on, cum for me sunshine.” He pressed his forehead against yours as you let out a small scream that faded into a whine. The coil bursting as his fingers continued thrusting into you. Your face burried into his neck as you held onto him, needing something to brace yourself with. 

He watched you slump into his arms, using his hand that was holding your face to now stroke your hair. “You’re alright.”  He cooed, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his hardon pressing against his jeans. You kept your face in his neck as your hands moved from his arms down his chest and torso. Trailing down the faint outline of abs as your hands went down, resting on the button of his jeans as you finally looked at him again. 

“I love you.” You said softly, as if it was a secret and you were in a crowded room. Your fingers undid his jeans, not waiting on a response from him. If he wasn’t there yet, he wasn’t there. 

“Hey.” He cupped your face again, making your focus now be solely on him. You hardly gave him time to respond to your confession before you went undo his jeans, he needed you to focus on what he was going to say because he could tell you were scared for his answer. 

“Relax, Sunshine. I love you too.” He said, taking in the way your eyes widened at his words. “I- I- can I?” You stuttered, gesturing to his jeans. “Yes, yes you can.” He laughed, continuing to cup your face as you undid his jeans and dragged the zipper down. He hummed as your fingers grazed his hard on, gripping your face a little tighter making you smile. 

“Now who’s teasing?” He asked you and you giggled, only for him to shake his head. He grabbed your hands and pulled them off of his jeans so that he could pull them down, together with his briefs. “Can’t deal with what you dish out?” You asked and he shook his head, placing his hand next to your hips on the counter. “Not nearly as well.” He admitted and you wrapped your legs around his bare waist to pull him against you. 

His free hand gripped the base of his cock as he rubbed it over your folds. You held the back of his neck, watching his actions before he slipped into you slowly. Your nails dug into his skin, making goosebumps coat his skin as he sheathed himself into you fully. The whimper you let out of was like music to his ears and the way you felt wrapped around him was better than he dreamed of. 

Yunho gave you a moment to adjust before wrapping his arms around your waist and almost picking you up off of the counter. It caught you by surprise making you hold onto him even tighter. “Fuck Yunho.” You hummed, as he started thrusting into you, using the leverage he had gotten from holding you. His pace picked up, fucking into you slowly as your sounds filled his studio. 

“You feel so good, Sunshine.” He praised, a low moan leaving his mouth afterwards as you scratched down his back. He thrusted a bit harder and faster, needing a taste of that sweet release because he too had been thinking about you all day. 

“Right there-” You choked out as he hit your sweet spot, the heels of your feet digging into his thighs. He pressed his face into your neck, placing kisses everywhere he could reach and sucking even more marks into your skin. He continued actions, making you tighten around him very quickly. He let go of your waist to place one of his hands by your side on the counter and the other down to rub your clit, giving him leverage to bring you both to the edge quickly. Your hands moved to his arms, scratching down them as well just adding to the pleasure he was going through. 

“Sunshine, I’m really close.” He moaned out, hips staggering slightly as he continuously rubbed your clit. You pet his hair, drawing his attention back to your face and that was it for him. You looked oh so fucked out and the way you were holding on to him, it was enough to send him over the edge. His hips stopped as he came inside of you, head drooping and beautiful loud moans leaving him as he did so. However, his fingers never stopped circling your clit and threw you over the edge with him. 

He was a mess, moaning at the feeling of you contracting around him and the overstimulation of it. The way you felt holding on to him, stroking his skin as you both calmed down. He was now holding you close against his chest, still resting inside you for a moment as you caught your breaths. 

“I meant it you know, when I said I love you back.” Yunho’s voice was soft spoken as he pet your hair. “I know.” You said as you traced over his arm. “Good, just wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t just say it because we were having sex.” He explained, body leaving yours and making you sigh. 

“I know I definitely didn’t just say it because of that.” You said as he handed you back your underwear. “That’s good.” He smiled at you that goofy smile, eyes filled with love. You shook your head, before grabbing his face gently and pulling him for another quick kiss. You just really wanted him to know that you meant it.  

“Come on, let’s go to my place. Maybe watch a movie, eat dinner, have round 2. All of the options are allowed.” He said laughing before handing you your dress, as you rolled your eyes at his words. 

“Ah Sunshine, I love you to bits.” 

- 

“The back of Yunho’s neck looks like he’s been mauled by a tiger, you wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that?” Hongjoong asked as he entered Yunho’s shop the next day. He had to run errands and asked you to watch his shop for a moment, so there you were sitting behind his counter and painting a piece of pottery you had helped him make not to long before. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, needing to bite on your lips to contain your smile as you continued to paint the clay. “Uh-huh, tell that to those hickies all over your neck.” He commented and you looked at him. “Do you ever spend time in your own store?” You asked in frustration and he started laughing, pointing at you. “I knew it!” He laughed and you shook your head. “Okay, okay. Shut up about it.” You hid your face in your hands, feeling how beat red you were. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing.” Hongjoong joked, walking around the shelves of pottery. No one else was in the shop, so the conversation wasn’t entirely inappropriate. “But it was good though? No hiccups, no awkward situations?” He asked and you could only smile at the thought of it all. “No, nothing awkward.” You said and he stood in front of the counter again. 

“I told him I love him for the first time.” You added quickly, simply going back to painting. “Wait, you did? For the first time? It took you both that long?” Admittedly Hongjoong wasn’t wrong, but you had felt love for him a long time ago. There just wasn’t a desire to vocalize it just yet, on either end. “I mean it was obvious that you too loved eachother, I’m just surprised it took you so long to say it.” Hongjoong explained and you nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. But sometimes it’s better to just wait until there’s that moment. That perfect moment to say it.” Last night was most definitely that moment for you. 

The store bell made you both redirect your attention to the door. Only for Yunho to pop his head in and look at you. “I was half way to the store when I realised that I didn’t ask you needed anything.” He said, smiling at you with stars in his eyes. “You could’ve just texted me.” You smiled back as Hongjoong watched the interaction. “I could’ve, but I would rather just walk back and see you instead.” He explained and Hongjoong laughed. 

“You two, you two are something else.” Hongjoong commented and Yunho shook his head. “But you don’t need anything?” He asked and you shook your head. “No, I got all I need.” You said and he nodded before going to leave again. “I love you, Sunshine.” He said quickly, shutting the door behind him. “I love you too.” You said smiling, knowing he couldn’t hear you anymore but still taking the time to do it. Hongjoong rolled his eyes at you and opened his mouth to say something. 

“As disgusting as you two are, how cute you are together makes up for it.” 

A/N: Feedback is kind!

I’m not completely satisfied with the ending but I still like this story alot. Sometimes you just need some happy stories. I hope you guys enjoy!