#perhaps even somehow ending up losing threads I really love too

[courtforshort15]

All I Feel is You

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word Count: 10,700

Summary: The story of how Matt Murdock falls in love with you, as told through the five senses

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sex and oral sex

Written for this post by @dorothleah

Seriously guys, this was supposed to be short🤣🤣

Masterlist

1. Touch

The fabrics you tend to wear are warm and inviting and almost begging to be touched. Every single thread is soft and calming, more so than what Matt is accustomed to finding on friends and the general public, and it's become a much welcomed change. He's noticed that you very rarely wear cotton, instead sticking to silk and satin and cashmere, and though you’ve only been at the firm a scant few weeks, he is addicted and can’t help but want to run his fingers up and down the fabric, dying to know how it would feel underneath his fingertips. 

He’s felt silk and satin and cashmere before, often preferring those materials on his own skin, but he’s never felt them on you, and it somehow still changes the way he gravitates towards them. The thought is arousing and enticing in a way he would have never thought possible. 

The fabric slides over your skin as you move, and Matt finds the sound almost distracting, wishing it was his fingers that were sliding over you instead. When you wear dresses, the material sways around your legs as you walk by him, and it takes everything in Matt to not pull you close and slide your dress up, just so that he can test if the clothing you wear is as soft as the inside of your thighs.

His fingers twitch at his sides whenever you move past him, ruthlessly pushing all indecent thoughts away and out of his head. He knows that if he were ever to touch you like the way he's hungered for weeks, he'd never be able to stop. 

Matt very nearly loses all semblance of control the first time you grab his hand and place it around the crook of your elbow, silk blouse pressed between his flesh and yours. 

Typically Foggy is the one to lead him, perhaps even Karen, because leading a visually impaired individual is a skill, and it requires a certain level of finesse and anticipation of the other’s needs. You’ve been hesitant, he’s aware, to guide him, though not because you don’t want to help him; it’s because you’re afraid you’ll mess up, you admit, and he outwardly laughs in your face. 

You flush, smacking his chest, and tell him you’re nervous you’ll forget to remind him of a step up or down, nervous you’ll walk him right into something or someone. He finds it adorable, especially given the fact that he has better coordination and direction than you ever will.

He’s not ready to tell you that yet, though the secret is constantly brimming at his lips, ready to spill at any given moment, regardless of the consequences.

But one day Foggy has a late meeting with a client across town, and Karen has left early for a date, and it’s just you left in the office with him. The long work day ends with a quiet sigh, the office pleasantly peaceful as the last few hours of work tamper off, and Matt startles when you kindly offer to help walk him home. It’s later than you’re usually at the office, and Matt briefly wonders if you’ve stayed because he had needed to finish things and wasn’t able to leave at a decent time.

Matt strives for a healthier life-work-vigilante balance, has worked for it since things ended with Fisk a little over a year ago, but he’s still a work in progress. He’s addicted to his work, both the work that sees the light of day and the work that doesn’t, and he still sometimes forgets that it impacts others, too, despite the constant drilling of these details into his mind by Foggy and Karen.

“It’s really not necessary,” he tells you with a laugh after the offer spills from your lips, packing his things up and putting his suit jacket back on, sliding his arms through the sleeves. The weather is still decently temperate, the warmth of summer still desperately clinging to New York City, but he can already feel the way the air outside has started cooling down now that the sun has almost finished its descent below the skyscrapers that surround the neighborhood. “I know my way around Hell’s Kitchen well enough. I’ll be okay.” 

And the words are true enough, with or without his senses. He’s a New York City boy, through and through, and he knows these streets and city blocks like the back of his hand.

You pick up your purse, pushing the strap over one shoulder, before turning back to him. The sound of your hair and the smell of the shampoo still clinging to each strand stirs a sense of want and yearning, one he so desperately wants to satisfy. 

“What if it makes me feel better?”

Matt shakes his head, smirking, the look on his face something Foggy would probably label as the typical Matt Murdock charm. The ticking of the clock echoes through the office, and though he can't read the time, the dull sounds of the New York City streets outside the window tells him it's later than he thought it was.

“And what if the idea of you going out of your way at night just to walk me home makes me feel worse?” He’s teasing, of course, though there’s some level of truth to it. He hates the idea of you walking alone at night, knowing far too well the danger that seems to always lurk in the alleyways, knowing far too well that even he can’t be everywhere at once, should something happen to you.

The words that leave his mouth seem to temporarily quiet you, but Matt’s not shocked when the silence ends after only a moment or two. You're usually quick with a rebuttal, your mind always sifting through sentences and body language, and Matt waits in amusement as you work to find the right reply for the situation. 

“It’s hardly night,” you finally respond, decidedly shoving the concern aside easily. “It’s only 7. There’s still a little light out.”

Matt may not be able to see the way his face lights up or darkens with certain expressions, but he knows he’s giving you the driest look possible. “You’d still be going far out of your way. Don’t you live in the opposite direction?”

He hears you scoff, though the sound is more amused than anything. “I can walk you home and take a cab back to my place.”

“You should take a cab back to your place regardless of where you are at this time at night,” he counters, stepping completely out of his office and into the lobby of their space, briefcase in one hand, cane in the other. “But I promise I’m fine on my own. It’s only a few blocks.”

“Humor me.” 

It’s a last ditch effort, he’s well aware, if the helpless sigh you let out is anything to go by. You’re waiting for him by the front door, and Matt, despite his protests, wants nothing more than to walk through it with you and bring you home with him.

“Fine,” he says with another sly grin, and he hears the way you exhale in relief. “But only because I’m not going to pass up a few extra minutes with you when you’ve so graciously offered them.”

The words settle between the two of you, and Matt can feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks as vividly as if he was pressed up against you. Your heart skips briefly, and the sound reverberates in his head. He laughs internally in pure satisfaction when you gulp.

“Fine,” you repeat the word back to him, voice slightly higher than it had been a few moments ago, and Matt can’t help but still be secretly pleased with the reaction you’ve given him. “Are you ready then?”

He gestures towards the exit. “Whenever you are.”

“Good,” you say, turning to open the door, but before you can step through it, you pause. Matt tilts his head at you curiously, wordlessly questioning the silence and the way you've hesitated. 

“So…this is an awkward question, and I don’t know how to do it delicately, so I’ll just dive in. At what point–”

Matt cuts you off, suddenly knowing where this was going. This time he's unable to hold back a laugh. “You want to know when you should offer your arm.”

There’s not a moment of hesitation on your end when you answer. “Yeah, pretty much.”

The grin on his face widens, and Matt wonders if it’s possible to ever frown when you’re around. “I can make my way to the elevator just fine,” he says with a brief shrug of his shoulders, unsnapping his cane as he takes a few steps forward. “But having help after that is always appreciated.”

“Got it,” you reply with a quick nod. You turn back to the door, finally opening it up, and step back so that he has room to walk through. “After you, Matt.”

He resists the urge to brush past you as closely as he possibly can, and instead places a careful distance between your body and his. It's almost excruciating, this self-imposed separation, but he pushes the feeling down.

He doesn't need your assistance with this particular task, but he'll be damned if he doesn't take full advantage.

It’s not long before the elevator is dropping you down at the lowest level, and the doors slide open with a quiet ding. He follows your lead, taking a step outside and into the fresh air of the building lobby, and waits patiently for you to reach for him.

Your hand is trembling as it stretches out to grab his, Matt notes curiously, but it’s steady by the time it pulls him slightly forward. Soft fingers settle on the skin of his wrist, and he adjusts his body so that he’s grasping the crook of your elbow as you step further in.

Matt’s stood intoxicatingly close to you before. He's felt the heat of your body close to his as you pass him files, or when you sit next to him at lunch. He’s felt the length of your hair brush his arm lightly as you reach for something that is on the other side of him, felt the way your breath fans over his face when you lean in to whisper something in his ear while at court. It drives him crazy, these little moments of feeling you, always burning and aching for more. 

But through all of that, nothing has prepared him for the feeling of silk that encases your upper arm and the way it feels against your skin resting underneath it. He’s sure he’s gone to heaven, or whatever sort of heaven is possible for a man like him, and he knows then and there that he needs to feel the way your skin will slide against the silk of his own sheets.

You feel far too wonderful him in that moment, wrapped in the soft material the way that you are, and Matt relishes the way your sensitive skin is an equal match to his, knowing he’ll never have to wonder or worry about rough, scratchy fabric rubbing against him if you can help it. It’s exhilarating, this idea that you’ll always be soft and ready for him.

He’s going to have you, one day. You may not know it yet, but there will be a day when he has you spread out and waiting underneath him, and he’ll tell you that it was this moment that was the tipping point for him.

It's hard to focus as you walk him home, saying your goodbyes at his doorstep when a cab pulls up, and he knows his hand will feel empty and bereft until it has the chance to settle on you once more. It’s like he was always meant to hold you, always meant to touch you, and he’ll wait patiently for you to come to the same realization.

*

2. Hearing

Matt has long since learned to drown out noises that aren’t necessary to the tasks at hand. His ears always pick up everything going on around him, relying on them more often than not for obvious reasons, but he’s mastered the art of tuning things out if they are not currently relevant to what he is working on. It’s a skill Stick had taught him, and it is perhaps the best thing that man had ever done for him, encouraging him to focus in the moment while forever remaining vigilant.

The same cannot be said for you.

He's not exactly sure when the others pick up on the way you need things to be softer, but he notices the first time you flinch as the front door slams shut by mistake. 

A potential client, rejected by their team due to several, incessant lies that pour from his mouth in the thirty minutes they meet with him, storms out of the office in annoyance. He mutters angrily to himself as he leaves, and yanks the door behind him, the sound of it echoing throughout the office. 

The sound was expected by Matt, having already anticipated the way it would reverberate throughout their space due to the heaviness and speed of the door headed towards the frame, but with his senses trained towards you, as they so often are, he doesn't miss the way you flinch and cover your ears.

Harsh and loud noises are triggering for you, it seems, and it’s something he can fully sympathize with, unfortunately. He finds it concerning, if not a little intriguing, this flash of vulnerability you display.

Your voice is gentle as it floats out around the office, rarely rising above a certain decibel, almost encouraging those around you to keep things quiet as well. It's impacted the way he, Foggy and Karen listen and speak to each other, making an effort not to shout things through offices, but rather get up and find the person they’re talking to. The transition happens almost over night, and he can sense the way your body relaxes the longer you are employed with them, trusting the team to use voices that aren’t louder than they really need to be.

Over the course of the months you spend settling into their team, you're frequently invited to happy hour at Josie's. It’s easy for him to pick up on the way you love joining the team, having told them you hadn’t felt like New York was home until you accepted their offer of employment, and it warms him. Your cheeks flush with the buzz of alcohol, your posture relaxes, and your speech becomes less poised, less polished. And every time you join them, without fail, you have soft, silicone plugs nestled in your ears while you're seated at the table.

Tonight you’re seated next to him, something that Matt had carefully orchestrated while you were placing a drink order at the bar, adjusting himself so that the only open seat would be next to him. He tries not to give himself away, but he can’t help but lean into you as far as he can without making it extremely obvious how much he wants to be pressed against you at all times.

He inhales sharply when you abruptly twist your body so that you’re angled towards him in a way that suggests he might not be alone in this need that runs viciously through him.

Matt does his best to focus in on the story you’re telling, your arms gesturing wildly as you regale the group with a funny anecdote about your younger brother. Your voice, despite the loudness of the bar, is still gentle in its cadence, and Matt has long since determined that no other voice will ever captivate him the way yours does.

When you’re done, you take a long sip of your drink, the liquid sliding down your throat, and Matt longs to wrap his hand around the column of your neck just to feel it, while maybe tilting your head back to kiss you in the process. 

Before Matt has the chance to ask you a follow-up question about your brother, curious to know more about the life you’ve led before moving to New York, Foggy jumps in with a question of his own, shouting over the noise of the bar.

"I've never asked before, but why do you wear ear plugs when we come here?"

You freeze next to him, and for a brief second Matt wants to shove his friend off of his bar stool. It’s a question he’s always had, though he thinks he already knows the answer, but he hates the way you’ve been put on the spot. He opens his mouth to tell you that you don’t need to answer, but you reply anyway, cutting him off.

"I, uh…I can get overwhelmed with loud noises," you explain quietly, fidgeting with the napkin still resting in your lap, placed there to wipe salt and grease off of your fingers as you munch on the french fries the group had ordered. "Sometimes it just gets to be too much. I can't focus on what's going on in front of me because everything else is just too loud. The ear plugs drown some things out."

Foggy tilts his head in curiosity, and Matt throws him a look of warning, wordlessly asking him to tread carefully, unwilling to let anything upset you. It had surprised him, initially, his reaction to the thought of you being uncomfortable, but now he knows and no longer questions the fact that he’d gladly rake his body over flaming coals if it meant you were always safe and happy and settled in whatever environment you found yourself in.

Foggy hasn’t caught on to his feelings just yet, but Karen has, and he can practically feel the amused side-eye she’s shooting him.

He rests a hand on your knee gently, intending to only leave it there for a second, but your hand suddenly reaches down and grabs it, easily interlacing your fingers with his. Matt tracks the way your cheeks flush, the way your heartbeat stutters for a split second, and is unable to stop the way his face splits open in a smile.

"Can you hear us okay, then? When you have them in?" Foggy questions, continuing on with the topic, completely oblivious to the body language of the people around him. 

You let out a quiet laugh. "You're sitting close enough that it's not really an issue. But I am decent at reading lips, so that usually helps, too."

“Gotcha,” Foggy says with an easy smile. “Let me know if there’s ever anything we can do to help make you more comfortable."

The conversation about your ear plugs ends there, Matt steering them gently towards another topic to help lead the focus off of something he can tell you're slightly self-conscious about, and he's rewarded by another squeeze of his hand. 

After that evening, the group still goes to Josie's fairly often, but they begin taking turns hosting happy hour at their own individual apartments. It becomes a frequent habit, ordering take out and staying in rather than going out, and Matt easily admits to himself that the quieter get-togethers are easier on his own ears, too. 

The lack of the sharp noises and drunken chatter of a bar also gives him the ability to focus on your heartbeat just that much easier, jumping whenever he gently brushes his fingers over yours when handing you another drink or carton of fried rice, and that alone makes the slight change worth it. 

Matt is committed at this point, intimately aware of what his presence does to you, and while he’d wait forever, he’s desperate to hear every single moan, gasp, or sigh he can draw out of you with his body pressed against yours.

"I never did thank you," you say quietly one evening, helping toss the beer bottles in his recycling bin. Foggy and Karen left ten minutes ago, claiming the need to prep a few more things before trial tomorrow, though Matt knows they had strategically left him alone with you on purpose.

Sometimes he thinks his friends are trying to get back at him for the years of chaos and tears he’s caused them.

"Thank me for what?" He asks, throwing some of the leftover Chinese into his fridge. He packs up a small bag of leftover white rice and vegetables for you to take, knowing without verbal confirmation that the slight blandness is something you'll enjoy and appreciate. He enjoys it, too, strong flavors sometimes too much for him, but he would rather you have it.

"You're the one who started encouraging us to spend time as a smaller group at someone's place, rather than going out," you say, voice floating through his apartment. He may not yet have told you about his own senses, but for some reason you've picked up on the way he can always hear you, no matter how soft or loud you are. "And I just really appreciate it. Going out isn't a big deal, but this is still a nice change sometimes."

Matt steps out of his kitchen to where you've picked up your purse from his table and stands directly in front of you, close enough to reach out and touch. He notices the way your breathing catches, as it always does when he stands near, and for whatever reason, tonight he feels emboldened to fully lean into it.

He reaches out to run a gentle finger down your cheekbone, and you sigh and seem to lean into it instinctively. It's all the encouragement he needs to continue. "I've found that I'd do just about anything to make sure you're comfortable," he says, enjoying the way your skin heats, and he takes another step forward, hand now fully cupping the side of your face. "Whatever you need from me to help that, I'll do it."

You pause for a moment, apparently weighing something in your mind, and he feels the moment you've made some sort of decision. He stands still when you take a tiny step towards him, the heat of you downright scalding, and he waits with bated breath for you to say something. 

"You don't need to do anything, Matt," you whisper quietly, taking his other hand in yours. "But thank you all the same. Truly."

Months of him needing you near more than he needs to breathe, months of him needing to put you first before all other things in his life, causes him to close the distance, unable and unwilling to spend one more second of not knowing what your mouth feels like underneath his.

Your lips are warm and soft as he presses against them, and he keeps the kiss gentle. Your hands reach up to wrap themselves in his shirt, and Matt knows he'll spend the rest of his life wanting to hear nothing else but that quiet sigh that leaves your mouth as it parts for his.

*

3. Taste

Matt grew up in perhaps one of the most unique melting pots in the world. 

New York City is an explosive mixture of cultures and ethnicities and races, and he’s been exposed to all the wonderful things that come with the mixture of so many people living in his city - the different music, the different languages, the different dreams and ideals. 

But the one thing that never fails to disappoint and sadden him about it is the fact that all the different foods of the world, so easily within his grasp, can be extremely overwhelming to his sense of taste. It’s a sense of irony that he doesn’t appreciate.

Over the years, he’s learned to cook with minimal spices and flavors, almost desperate to avoid making his taste buds go haywire, but though everything he makes is nourishing and edible, it doesn’t necessarily make them…good. Matt has a relatively bland diet, sticking to foods and flavors that are subtle, and the repetition is boring. 

But then…you come along.

It’s like an explosion, the flavors you bring with you in your lunches and snacks every day. Matt’s mouth salivates over the meals you bring in, knowing without tasting them that nothing you make will overwhelm his taste buds. It’s never anything fancy, he admits. But you’ve tossed ingredients and spices together in a way that he would have never thought to mix, and it suddenly sets him on a renewed journey of finding new things he can’t wait to try.

Rich and savory spices and herbs spill out of your small backpack as you load them in the fridge every day, and the way the scents sometimes stick to your skin makes him want to take you home and never take his tongue off of you.

…which, he feels that way one hundred percent of the time anyway, the taste of your skin divine by itself, but these moments bring out his hunger for you even more. He's had his tongue on you now, had it in you, and he'd gladly spend the rest of his time here on Earth tasting nothing but the salt on every single inch of your body that you'll let him touch.

He's only made love to you once, but Matt can no longer imagine his life without your taste in his mouth.

It's a rainy Friday night in Hell's Kitchen when you manage to drag him to one of your favorite restaurants, though the word drag is used lightly. He's eager and selfish enough to take every spare second you'll give him, but even he can admit that some cases at work require late evenings. There's an everlasting desire to press his lips to yours, if only to draw out every sound he now knows you can make, so he follows you anyway, despite the heavy workload resting on the secondhand desk that's situated in his office. 

The streets of New York City are wet and miserable, but you pull him happily with you, and he has no control over the heart that has decided your hand is a better home and keeper than his own chest.

Before you even round the corner with him half a step behind, he knows instinctively what restaurant you’re taking him to without a word being spoken. It's a few blocks outside of Hell's Kitchen, so he's never really walked by this restaurant before, but now, just a few hundred feet from him, it calls to him, a delicious mixture of spices and herbs and sugars rolling across his tongue that are satisfying without being overwhelming.

He takes his time on your arm, enjoying the way you sway and swerve in between other pedestrians, simply because it gives him an excuse to hold onto you that much tighter. And by the time he holds the door open for you to step inside, Matt's mouth is almost drooling in want and hunger.

It's not long before food is being placed in front of you both, and he wastes not a single second before diving in. He knew before he even entered the restaurant that he was about to eat one of the most fantastic meals of his life, outside of the classic bacon and eggs and pancakes his father used to make him every Saturday morning while he watched cartoons. 

The same explosion of flavors that he had smelled from outside is there, foods that are bold but still somehow subtle, and he swears he's never tasted a combination of ingredients and sauces and spices that fit so well with his palette. 

Add in the fact that the restaurant uses natural products to clean their dishes and wash their vegetables, rather than burning chemicals that scald both his nose and tongue, and it makes him feel like he never wants to eat anywhere else again.

He also never wants to eat or discover new things with anyone else but you again, but that's a conversation for another time. 

"This is one of my favorite places to come to," you say lightly with a soft smile on your lips, and Matt hmms in agreement, because it has suddenly managed to become one of his favorites, too. "I found it a few months back. It’s relatively new, I think. It just has so many options to choose from that fit with the sorts of things I like."

Matt lifts his fork to his mouth, eyes briefly shutting in contentment, a swirl of rich, savory flavors that settle enticingly on his tongue. He savors it before he swallows.

He can track down every ingredient used for this specific dish. The vegetables are the same ones Monica Smith sells in her small market on 42nd, the chicken from the butcher on 57th. Most of these ingredients are sold fresh and locally, sources that Matt often trusts with his own meals that he cooks himself, and there's nothing more comforting than tasting Hell’s Kitchen, than tasting home on his tongue.

"Do you come here often, then?" He asks once he places his fork down and takes a sip of his drink. 

Your mouth twists into a smirk. "You've already got me, Matthew. No need to use a pick up line.”

A startled laugh escapes his throat, and the sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. "That's not how I meant it."

"Felt like you were putting the moves on me like we were some sort of dive bar," you tease. You blow on the spoonful of soup you're about to wrap your mouth around to eat, and Matt can't help but think of the way your mouth had been wrapped around him not too long ago.

"No need to put the moves on you when I've apparently already got you, sweetheart," he fires back with a grin. "Though I'd be very interested in discussing that particular fact later. In detail."

A quiet laugh trickles over to him. "That can probably be arranged."

"Good," is all he says. He takes another bite, and you mirror him, finally placing the spoon in your mouth. Matt lets out a quiet moan, both at the taste of the food in his mouth and the taste that's now resting on your tongue, eager to pull you to him and share it with you by way of placing his mouth greedily on yours.

"But to answer your question, I do," you tell him once you swallow, and Matt simultaneously attempts to push the arousal away temporarily (he fails), and smiles at the way your voice sounds wistful and happy. He hopes the sound can be contributed to his company just as much as the food in front of you. "It's hard for me to find places that I like."

He tilts his head to the side. "Any specific reason why?"

You shrug, and Matt's attention lazily drifts to the sound the silk makes as it slides over your shoulders. He's had you in his bed now, and the sound of silk and your skin gliding against each other will forever be etched into his memory. 

"Too many places just use ingredients that don't…taste right to me," you answer easily. "Too much salt. Too much grease. Too much everything, really. This place is more gentle, more thoughtful with how they prepare things, I think. Things just feel more natural here."

Matt has to bite back a smile because you just…get it.

He hasn't said a word to you about his senses, not yet at least, but somehow everything about you just fits with him, like you're two pieces of a puzzle, meant to connect and stay connected, revealing an image that only the two of you can see and feel.

"I understand what you mean by that," he says softly, reaching out to grasp your hand in his before he pulls away to grab his beer. "Have you always been that way? Sensitive to different foods? I've noticed the types of things you bring in for lunch; seems to be a common thread."

He feels the way your hand halts on its way to your mouth, and the pause sets him briefly on edge, the sound of your heartbeat stuttering for just a quick second. Opening his mouth, Matt means to ask what's wrong, but you answer before he can do so.

"Yeah, I've always been like this. I, uh…I'm on the spectrum," you tell him before shoving the bite of your salad in your mouth. Matt's mouth drops a fraction of an inch, honestly having not suspected the response. But it makes him pause, because all of a sudden it clicks that he has observed traits that seem to be consistent with what he knows about the diagnosis. 

Sensitivity to sound. Sensitivity to certain fabrics. Sensitivity to taste. He hadn't caught on before, but now it just…makes sense.

You continue. "I'm a fairly mild case, honestly, but certain tastes and textures of food are just overwhelming sometimes, or they don't feel right in my mouth. It's hard to explain."

His focus quickly shifts to the way you adjust in your seat, as if nervous about his reaction, and he finds himself intensely disliking the thought of you regretting your admission in any way.

"You could try to explain, if you're comfortable with it," he suggests softly, reaching out to gently grasp and squeeze your hand again before he pulls back, needing you to know that anything you divulge is safe with him. He hopes that when he's ready to divulge a secret of his own, you'll sit and really hear him, the way he's always needed someone to hear him, the way he's always needed someone to hear him and still love him.

"Whatever you have to say, I want to listen."

Taking a deep breath, you place your fork on your plate, though Matt doesn't necessarily take it as a sign that you're uncomfortable with the topic, to which he is grateful, but rather something that indicates you're planning in your head what you want to say.

When you finally answer, Matt is utterly powerless to do nothing but give you every single cell of attention that resides in his body.

"I'm not necessarily shy about it, I'm actually pretty open about it, but I guess there's not much to say," you begin, sounding less hesitant than you had sounded just seconds before. "It's pretty common for people on the spectrum to be picky eaters, and that's always been the case for me. But even if it's common, it doesn't mean it's necessarily well understood why, and no two people and their reactions are the same. For some reason, it tends to be more prevalent in women, which makes it even more difficult to track or explain because there isn't a ton of research on women who are autistic. Most studies focus on men."

He hmms in the back of his throat, tilting his head to the side in consideration. "I guess I hadn't really thought about that."

"Most people don't," you say after another bite, and he frowns lightly at the tone of nonchalance in your voice, because even though you sound unaffected, he can hear the quiet waver that suggests that there's a part that ever so slightly bothers you at people's general lack of acknowledgment of the matter. He vows to learn every single thing you're able to teach him, vows to read every single book, published article, or internet post he can find. "Long story short, my sense of taste tends to be limited in terms of what I can tolerate, you know?"

Matts quiet for a moment before he responds. "Oddly enough, I can understand that," he says with a small smile, raising his glass to take another sip of his drink. 

"I figured you would," you reply with a light shrug, the movement stirring the air around you, making the scent of you carry over to him enticingly. He opens his mouth ever so slightly to catch the taste on his tongue. "You tend to order pretty simple things when we all go out. You stick to the same foods and drinks for the most part."

A smirk replaces the grin on his face. "You've been paying attention to me? What am I supposed to do with that information, I wonder?"

He can feel the way your face flushes, and he imagines the color that is blooming rapidly across your cheeks. He vaguely remembers the color red, and he wonders if your skin is vibrant and bold right now, or if the hue is soft and sweet.

"Am I wrong, though?" You ask, neatly avoiding his own questions. "You prefer things that are subtle, things that taste smooth, as opposed to things that taste sharp or in your face, I guess? Do you know what I mean by that?"

"I do. Things that are easy rather than bold," he says with a quick nod. "I can't do bitter or spicy or sour."

Your face splits into a grin. "Exactly. Certain flavors are nice, but they can't be overwhelming or I just kinda…start to shut down. I don't tend to like new things. I'm perfectly happy sticking to the things I know I like."

Matt leans back in his seat as he places his napkin on the table in front of him. He waits until you swallow before speaking again, diving in for the kill, knowing exactly what sort of reaction he's hoping to get from you.

"I'm typically the same way," he says with a smirk. "Though, based on the other night, I'd have to say that my new favorite taste is you."

Your skin flares to life again as you take in a sharp breath, and the smile on his mouth is wide with borderline glee and satisfaction when you give him just the response he had been looking for.

He practically pats himself on the back for a job well done, but is unprepared for your response.

"Well," you say slowly, voice quiet and wavering for just a split second before it strengthens, "if that's the way you feel, then maybe we could go back to your place and you can have me for dessert."

It's Matt's turn to be momentarily speechless, and while blood had rushed to your cheeks at his comment, his own blood heads straight to his cock at yours, and at the thought of having his mouth on you again makes him go absolutely feral.

When he regains his ability to speak, he flags down the waiter he can hear at the table next to him, and asks for the check with a speed he's never managed to achieve, despite his years of snapping at the heels of every violent and manipulative criminal in Hell's Kitchen.

Your soft laugh continues to echo in his ear as he practically drags you to his apartment. 

*

4. Scent 

You miss two or three days of work a month due to what you’ve described as chronic migraines, and the whole office cringes in sympathy whenever you call out. Matt is no stranger to headaches, having had his head bashed in too many times to count, and he knows he’s caused several headaches of his own for Foggy and Karen, the direct result of them being friends with a man who is always finding himself in some sort of trouble.

But migraines, he’s heard, are a whole different ball game, and it saddens him to think of you in so much pain.

When you first started working for their firm, the team used to come to your home and bring you case files and notes at your request, as you were always eager to prove that you were a valuable member of their team, despite the illness that randomly knocked you on your ass for sometimes 24 to 48 hours. They all trust you to complete your work, usually staying late and working weekends to make up for lost time, and for months he humored you, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to show up on your doorstep and check up on you.

Now, though…it’s different.

He ignores your request to bring the files over, and is instead armed with decaffeinated coffee, green tea, peppermint tea, anything and everything he’s researched that is recommended to help ease you out of a migraine and prevent future ones. He’s not sure how much of it all works, but he’s willing and desperate to lessen your pain, even if only for a few minutes.

You’d gifted him with a key just a few weeks ago, shortly after he had told you he loved you for the first time. Unlike most things in his life, being with you is effortless and calm. The transition from friendship to this was seamless, the pair of you somehow knowing this was something meant to last, so he lets himself quietly into your apartment without a second thought. 

The air conditioning is cranked up and blasting as it always is when a migraine sets in, something about heat being a trigger for you, and he doesn’t need to see to know that all the blinds are shut, cutting out all of the natural light and the warmth that would have hit his skin through the windows.

You’re in your bedroom, your heartbeat too rapid for his liking, so he sets the items he’s brought over onto your counter, removes his shoes and suit jacket, and makes his way towards you. You don’t say anything when he settles in behind you, just grabs his arm and pulls it around you, and within a few moments, you’re dead asleep. It’s as if you had been waiting on him before you could fully relax, trusting him to watch over you in your moments of vulnerability.

It’s hours later, well into the evening, when you finally stir again, your body stretching before sinking further into his. Matt had drifted off to sleep beside you for a bit, but had already been awake for an hour before your eyes fluttered open, grateful that your heart rate had decreased and your breathing settled into something more peaceful. The way your body physically reacts to any sort of stress, whether it be sickness or an impending deadline, never fails to put him on edge, ready to leap into the fray of whatever has the potential to cause you harm.

“You’re still here?” Your voice is groggy with sleep, though it’s not as tight with pain as it normally is when you’re in the throes of a migraine, so Matt finds himself relieved that the worst of it may have passed.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he whispers in your ear, tightening the arm resting around your waist. “I don’t have to go out for another few hours or so.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after 7,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head from where it’s almost tucked under his chin. “I got here around 3, after the meeting with that new client.”

“And you stayed the whole time?” The words are quiet, but they still sound slightly incredulous. “Matt…you had so much to do today.”

“Nothing more important than making sure you’re okay,” Matt responds easily, slotting his legs up behind yours, pressing the entire length of his body against you. You’d called early this morning while he had been on his way to work, claiming that an awful migraine had started up last night, and he had rushed through his day as quickly as possible. “Are you feeling better?”

You make a non-committal noise. “Maybe a little. I think my meds kicked in this afternoon.”

Matt hums quietly in your ear. “Have you considered a new brand? They don’t seem to be helping much. You still get them pretty frequently.”

Shifting in his hold, you suddenly turn to face him, and Matt adjusts by rolling slightly on to his back, allowing you to curl up against his side and lay your head on his chest. Matt uses the opportunity to brush a kiss against your forehead, the heat of your skin against his always welcome. He had long since removed his pants and shirt, having taken them off before he decided to nap with you, and the way you snuggle closer reminds him that you like being skin to skin just as much as he does.

“They help as much as they can,” you say with a subtle shrug. “It’s hard when something triggers it.”

Matt stills the hand that had naturally risen up to brush lightly against your back. “What triggered it?”

“The lady that came in yesterday afternoon.”

He furrows his brow, searching back through his memory. “Mrs. Henderson?” He feels you nod against his chest, still shuddering and inching impossibly closer. “What about her?”

“It was her perfume.”

“Her perfume triggered the migraine?” You nod again, and Matt frowns mildly as he starts piecing some things together. 

It clicks. “Are you migraines…scent triggered?”

You sigh against him, throwing a leg over his, further settling yourself against him, and Matt tightens his arm. Your eyes flutter shut as you speak. “Yeah, usually. Being around strong scented things can be awful.” 

Matt’s not sure why he hadn’t recognized it before, now that he thinks back on it. The way your apartment always smells clean, but not in a way that smells like a solution of pure chemicals. It always smells more natural, made up of subtle scents that are warm rather than piercing. Your detergent is in similar fashion, and the shampoo you use on your hair is soft and almost indistinct to anyone who doesn't have a nose like his. No candles. No air fresheners. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t noticed it, given the fact that he has always used similar products at his own place that are equally kind to his nose.

“How come I didn’t know this?” Matt questions curiously. He should have known, uniquely prepared and understanding of yet another sensory factor that he has in common with you. But unlike your own unique sensitivity, Matt has found a way to block out most scents, especially the more unpleasant ones that come with living in New York City. 

“Didn’t seem important.”

“Didn’t seem–? It’s super important, if it means there’s something that causes you this much pain,” he argues quietly, resuming the movement of his hand running up and down your back. You arch into the touch. “I might not be able to help all of the time, but I might be able to help with this.”

Matt knows you know exactly what he’s talking about, having told you his biggest secret not long into the relationship. You take a sudden deep breath.

“I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” you admit quietly. “It didn’t really occur to me, that this might be something you could maybe…help with.”

“We’ll figure it out, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, shifting his head to kiss your cheek. “Whatever I can do to help, just like I said before.”

You nod sleepily into his chest, the conversation having apparently worn you out already, and Matt huffs a laugh when your eyes close again and don't reopen.

It doesn’t take long to develop a routine from there on out. Matt’s able to pick up on a scent headed up the elevator that he knows will bother you, long before the client even enters the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page, and he takes great care in either encouraging you to work from home the rest of the day, or hoarding you in his own office, the quiet and unassuming scent of your shampoo and detergent an everlasting sense of peace to his own sensitive nose.

It’s only been a few months, but he has every intention of permanently blending your scent with his.

*

5.  Sight

You prefer muted lights over fluorescent ones.

It doesn’t take long for Matt to notice that the lights in your apartment are warm and relaxing, a strong contrast to the lights he can hear in other various settings. It’s no surprise to him, not really, when he pairs this detail with all the other sensitivities you have. And while the low lights are a benefit to your eyes, Matt considers them a benefit to his hearing.

He’s never mentioned it, but even though he can’t see the harsh lights of a courtroom or police station, he can hear them, and the buzzing noise isn’t always pleasant. He can block most things out, but the constant thrumming does wear on his nerves sometimes, a sharp sound that blazes across his skin before settling in his ears.

He appreciates coming home to you, for more reasons than he could ever possibly count, knowing that the only lights you’ve brought with you when you moved in are soft and warm and blessedly quiet.

Matt knows your eyes are sensitive, that you wear sunglasses whenever you’re outside, regardless of sun or rain or snow, and the lenses that perch on your nose have a special blue-light filter to help take away the strain of staring at a computer screen for too long. He split the cost of having custom sized curtains throughout the apartment to drown out some of the light, and he’s heard you explain to Foggy and Karen the reason the backlight on your phone is so muted.

This isn't something he can necessarily relate to, the one sense of five he is lacking and will never regain. He remembers what it was like to see, colors and faces and neighborhoods rich and vibrant, but light had never caused him actual pain.

He will forever live his life in the dark, even while you remain the bright and pulsing star he will never stop orbiting around.

Over the course of the past year and a half, Matt has spent time tracking the similarities he has with you. All the sensitivities that match up, and it's brought so much comfort to his life that he doesn't know how to articulate it. You've begun building a life together that is soft and soothing for you both. 

He's not surprised that the topic of his own sight has taken so long to be brought up. Calm and simple conversations have sprouted up here and there, and he's always known that you'd haven't avoided the topic, but rather simply made it clear that while losing his sight has continued to be a large part of his story, it is not necessarily the one that is most important to you.

You have always understood that he is more than his blindness, even before his big reveal. And when the topic finally surfaces, it carries both more and less weight than it has anytime before. 

"Matt," you begin quietly, settled in his arms after he absolutely wrecked your world with his fingers, his tongue, and his cock. He's wrapped himself around you from behind, one of his favorite ways to ensure that you're here with him, that you're safe, that you're his. "Can I ask a question?"

He makes a sound in the back of his throat quietly, indicating that yes, you can ask him anything. He has stripped down every barrier that keeps you from him, both his walls and yours, and there is nothing he'll deny you. 

You must pick up the unspoken words he's given you in a language only the two of you understand, so you proceed. "If this sounds insensitive, please tell me. I don't want to upset you, I'm just curious."

Beyond interested now, Matt rolls you in his arms until you're facing him. Your breath gently rolls over him as he pushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Taking a deep breath, your mouth parts in response. "Do you…ever wish you could still see?"

The question makes him pause in a way he hasn't quite stilled before. He's been asked the same question hundreds of times over the decades of his life since the accident, and the answer has always been the same. In an effort to tell people he's happy with where his life is at, in an effort to make people not pity him by him thinking a part of his life is missing, he has always responded with a quick, no, I'm fine. I've gotten used to it.

And while he is fine, the reasoning goes far beneath what he hands out for others to know. Matt may struggle with believing he is worthy of being loved and adored, but one thing he is sure of is that he doesn't owe anyone his story, and that very few deserve to hear it. 

He told Karen once that he wished he could see the sky one more time in a rare moment of opening up, though he admits that he had mostly done so to earn her trust in a display of offering a vulnerability. He had hoped it would inspire an admission of her own, something to help guide him towards the next clue to the puzzle in her case, but he had been unsuccessful.

But that was neither here nor there.

The question falling from the lips he'd gladly spend every second pressed against is quiet, less probing than others who have asked, and he knows this is yet one more thing he's unable to keep from you. 

Actually, the word is no longer unable, but rather unwilling, because there's not a single piece of himself that he wants to keep hidden from you. You own him, body, heart, and soul, and months ago that acceptance of ownership came with the realization that he has no desire to be anything but open and free beneath your fingertips.

A soft hand runs up his torso and settles over his heart, a quiet yet intentional moment of comfort, and you speak before he gets a chance to reply. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He shakes his head. "No, it's not that. I'm just thinking."

"Take your time, love," is all you say, and the term of endearment never fails to knock him off his feet. You are his love, but he is also yours.

With a subtle clearing of his throat, he opens his mouth to answer, not an ounce of hesitation, though the words at first seem disjointed because he's not quite sure how to say what he wants to say. 

"I…yes and no," he starts softly in your ear. "There...are certain things I wish I could see at least once, or at least one more time, but for the most part, no. I don't necessarily wish that."

Sheets rustle as you push a thigh between his to press even closer. "Is it because you just have accepted it? That there's nothing you can do about it, so no use thinking about it?"

"In some ways, sure," he tells you, pointer finger drawing lazy circles on your hip. "But I was angry about it for a long time. Angry that my vision was taken from me because I tried to help someone. I felt like I had been punished by a god who only ever saw the devil in me, rather than the good I had tried to do, even as a kid. But that anger shifted the older I got, and rather than blame God, I blamed the rest of the world for all the injustices, feeling like I was doomed to do nothing but hear them. And it made me furious that everyone else had the ability to actually see these horrible things happening, and yet they did nothing."

"So…you let the devil out," you murmur against his chest, already familiar with this part of the story, having heard the explanation of what had made him snap, the final straw that broke the camel's back. 

"Yes," he whispers back, knowing you held no blame or disgust associated with the sentence you had just let out. "I let the devil out."

Once upon a time he had begged Foggy to understand why he had chosen this particular path, asking him to forgive him for doing what he had thought necessary to save that little girl. He had repeated the process with Karen some time after that, but the results had been even worse the second time, the lie in their friendship and failed relationship a chasm between the two of them.

But with you…there had been no begging involved. No praying at your feet that you would understand it, understand him. The shock had been there, true, when he finally revealed himself all those months ago, laying all his cards on the table, yours to do with what you wished.

A silence had echoed between you, one that had felt like years but had only actually lasted a split second, before you picked up all the cards he had given you, tucked them in your chest for safe keeping, and responded with endless amounts of love and affection. You'd taken his hand just as easily as you'd taken his heart, told him you trusted him to do what he thought was right, and that there was not a single piece of him that you did not want and adore.

"And now? How do you feel about it now? About not being able to see?"

"I talked about this once with Maggie," he replies, recalling the conversation he'd had with her years ago underneath the church. "This idea of looking back on the past and trying to figure out if the life we led was on the right path or not. I told her about all the anger I had felt, all the hurt and betrayal. It took me a long time to realize that maybe God thought sight was unnecessary to do what needed to be done, and that I needed to go through the things I did in order to become Daredevil."

"And has that helped you? Thinking about it that way?"

"Yes," he says without hesitation, without pause. "If getting back my sight meant losing everything else, losing all the things that have helped me to help others, then it wouldn't be worth it."

"That makes sense," you whisper quietly against his chest. Your hair rubs against his skin, and Matt sighs at the contact. "You're Daredevil. Daredevil is Matt Murdock. There's no separating the two, because you're both. You wouldn't be your full self if you couldn't do what you can do."

He pulls you tighter against him. "Yes, I....that's exactly it," he says with a rush of breath that slides over your hair and skin. "I couldn't…be me without it. So, no. I don't wish I could see, not if it meant giving this up."

"And you don't feel the need to see." 

Matt can't help but love the way it's a statement, and not a question. 

"I don't," he says simply. "I've lived the vast majority of my life without sight, and I can live the rest without it, too. I have Foggy. I have Karen. I have our practice. And I have you. My life is complete the way it is."

Fingers trail up his chest, up his neck, and settle on his cheek. Matt instinctively leans his head into the touch, relishing the way you always manage to provide love and affection without saying a word. 

He's not necessarily sensitive to the topic anymore, and certainly never could be with you, this wonderful person in his life who has filled him with warmth, a steady flame licking at his heart and spreading outwards, always finding every crack and crevice to stitch together and make whole. 

He'll never be able to fully articulate the way he's never felt like home with anyone else but you, never be able to fully articulate the way you've righted the axis of his life that has not felt safe or secure since his father died.

All he can do is try. 

Try to explain just how you've pulled him in like a moth to the flame, but never once tried to burn him.

"My eyes haven't worked since I was 9, but you manage to help me see, sweetheart. In a way no one else has been able to before, " he says, and the words cause your breathing to hitch. He continues without much pause. "You describe things to me without me asking. I can hear and feel everything so much, but there's always going to be things I can't pick up on, and you've filled that void for me."

Your hand twitches, curling into itself on his chest, and he doesn't waste a single second reaching up to flatten it against his heart again. "Matt." Your voice is thick with an emotion mimicking both surprise and reverence, and your heartbeat has sped up considerably. 

Bending his neck lightly, he brushes his lips across your forehead. "You just naturally tell me about things going on around me, as if you had been doing it your whole life. I thought it was cute before you knew what I was capable of picking up on, but you haven't stopped. You still describe colors and facial expressions and funny signs you see when we're outside. You still tell me all about these things you notice, as if you want to make sure I don't miss a single thing, and I love you for it."

Seemingly stunned into silence, you lay cradled up against him, heart racing and skin flushed and warm. Winding his hand in your hair, Matt pulls your head back, and waits until he knows for sure your eyes have rested on his face. His smile is soft, as is the skin of your cheek when he moves his hand to stroke a thumb down your cheek, picking up a stray tear that rolled down. 

He tilts his head down to kiss you, but before he can move an inch, you're pulling his mouth down towards yours with a hand of your own wrapped around the back of his neck.

He pulls away after a brief moment before he gently rolls you onto your back, parting your thighs so that he can lay between them, anxious to be pressed against you, pressed in you, in every way he can. You moan as his weight settles on top of you, though it changes to a quiet gasp when his cock slides inside, your cunt still wet from where he had finished inside you not an hour before. 

He's pretty sure you're nothing but wet when you're around him, something that never fails to arouse a sharp sense of satisfaction that he makes your body react that way. It makes it easy to take you whenever he wants, your body ready for his with his name and a murmured yes on your lips. 

Matt captures your mouth again with a soft kiss, and when he pulls away, even as his hips rock languidly against yours, he can't help but whisper the words that have unconsciously circled in his head for months now.

"Out of everything out there, out of everything you've told me or described to me, if I could see only one thing in the world, it would be your face when you say I do."

And with that, he laces his fingers with yours as he presses your hand into the mattress next to your head, lightly tracing over the engagement ring he had slid on to your ring finger not too long ago.

It seems that every one of your sensory sensitivities matches his in some way or another, and he can’t help but be thrilled, be calmed by it. The idea of spending the rest of his life side by side with someone he not only loves and adores and cherishes more than his own life, but someone who appreciates and understands the way that the world is just too much sometimes, someone who has helped him find peace in a way he had never thought possible, has forever changed this path that his life has always been on.

Your mouth parts in a sigh underneath his, and he spends the rest of the night using all four senses to drive you both to the edge over and over again, aware that he'll never need his sight to see how perfectly, how flawlessly you were made for him.

[theladyragnell]

Hi! Question for you once you've had a chance to finish S3 of Ted Lasso: I'd love to hear your perspective on how S3 could have unfolded in a more fulfilling way. No pressure, of course, but I enjoy reading your insights. :)

Okay! I am rolling up my sleeves.

EXPRESSING-OPINIONS-ON-THE-INTERNET CAVEAT: I am not a media critic, and not everything in this post will be cohesive, well-thought-out, and non-contradictory. I do not for a moment pretend that my opinions are Correct, they are merely my own.

SECOND CAVEAT: At this point, with where they left arcs, I'm about 80% sure that depending on how the WGA strike goes (crossing my fingers for them) and any corporate retaliation for that, there will be a spinoff or continuation sans Ted. More of their choices make sense if that is true, even if I don't love the thought (let shows end!!!), so this is all changes I would make assuming s3 is the final season.

The thing about this season, for me, is that any given episode or moment was largely really enjoyable for me! Sure, a few quibbles, and the whole Roy and Keeley thing we will get to in a moment, but if I ignored the fact that I was watching a season, most things worked for me. Looking at it as a season, though, it was too busy, in a way that meant the show dropped a lot of things I wanted to see more of.

So, when pondering this question, I think that there's no way to keep everything I love while getting rid of only the things that annoyed me or that didn't feel right to me. And in the end, I'd rather miss things that weren't there than be annoyed with things that are present, so my take on s3 would streamline a lot of things to engage with others.

Oh boy, this is already long, time for a cut.

Change #1: Roy and Keeley do not break up. There was simply no reason for this, and especially no reason for it to happen off-screen. They can still fight and have difficulties, and Roy can deal with his mental health, but it's just unnecessary drama and I never understood it. This also prevents Roy and Jamie's weird last-episode regression to fighting over her and forcing her into shitty positions.

Change #2: Most of Keeley's plotlines change. All of the KJPR plots and characters were interesting, but they also busied the season up too much. So I'd have her actually building up a one-woman business without Jack (or, tragically, Barbara), maybe doing the Shandy thing and grappling with that for longer, or her dealing with the Establishment the way Rebecca does so often, trying to make them see her as a businesswoman and not a footballer's girlfriend.

Change #3: Beard and Jane break up. We get to carry over the threads from s2 from the Beard episode and from Higgins expressing his concern, instead of treating the way Jane treats him as comedy. We also get to counteract this show's everyone-deserves-not-just-forgiveness-for-everything-but-also-to-be-in-your-life-again message with one instance of someone setting out a boundary and sticking to it.

Change #4: Many of Nate's plots change. As with Barbara, I would really regret losing Jade, but I think there are better uses of Nate's screentime--he was set up to be a real main character in s2 and I felt like I hardly saw him in s3. What I really wanted was for Nate to learn how to have power over people responsibly, I think? I'd have chosen either for him to grit his teeth and stay at West Ham (perhaps while joining the conspiracy to overthrow Rupert) or, when he left, for him to somehow end up coaching a kids' team, and learn gentleness in authority that way. It would pick up this show's really genuinely cool theme of "once one person makes a point of stepping out of the cycle of abuse and trauma it can ripple out around them" in interesting ways.

And while there are many other tweaks I'd make (more Sam, his last focus plot was SO goddamn miserable; eliminate everything about the psychic; goodbye to Rebecca's boat stranger), I'm going to finish with the last big one, which is

Change #5: Ted gets to do something besides reinvent total football, pine for his son, and make speeches that should have been edited down to a third of their length tops. He just seems so checked out this whole season, just talking about how none of the work he's done is on him, all focused on Henry in the wrong ways, so that going back to Kansas felt more like a horrible sacrifice than a choice that will bring him fulfillment or contentment. He was always going to go back to Kansas and his son, much as I wasn't wild about that, but it doesn't feel like a new beginning for him, just like he's going back to his old life with a little more knowledge of football and more knowledge of how to model good parenting and relationships for his kid (while not, from the way I interpreted that last expression, dealing any further with his own mental health). It felt weirdly dark for this show.

(Also I know this show loves its book theming, and I know it's The Wizard of Oz (see: a song from The Wiz playing over the credits to the penultimate episode), but have they considered that in subsequent Oz books Dorothy and her family move back to Oz? Things to consider.)

[amymbona]

Yes!! I can't stand scenes that are too explicit and pornographic, like in Mothering sunday or God's own country, like... damn do u really think we really need his dick that much?

I suppose a more creative approach could have been used here, for example, a sailor's girlfriend knocks on the door and josh?(Amy!! We need to come up with a name for him) gets up from his chair with an irritated sigh, writing something before, he thought that one of his soldiers was bothering him again about some stupid and obvious issue, but there she is, all so beautiful and perfect. He doesn't let her into his ship's cabin, but goes out into the corridor with her, tells to get away from him, but she teases him in response, and seduces him with her divine body. Eventually his lustful side takes over and he grabs her by the elbow, sees in the room, kisses her passionately and even in some ways roughly, pressing her against the door, and soon knocks her down on knees in front of him, unbuttoning his perfect black trousers to the thread.

In order not to show the dear viewers everything in detail, there may be a digression in another direction, as the soldiers discuss something very urgent and important, maybe even a threat of attack, and after the tension of the situation among everyone, directing thoughts to something else, we're already shown how they're out of breath lying on the bed, it is all damn spoiled, her curls have turned into strange interweavings, and the mascara is leaked.

She lies on his chest, trying to catch her breath, but it was not so easy and the admiral quickly gets out of bed, getting dressed, the girl is in shock, not understanding his behavior, grabs him by the shoulder, and josh recoils and demands that she leave his room. Woman argues with him, says that she will not go anywhere and will be with him! and in the end, having angered him, he throws her out in her underwear, throwing a dress at her(cruel, but that's his nature).

There are some terrible pronouns here and it pisses me off that everything is repeated, but this is a sketch, so 🙄🙄

Baby, I'm ready to make a movie, just write when hah

I love love love it when sex in a movie is a metaphor for something, mainly for gaining or losing control. It's so fucking scrumptious when the constant teasing and temptation finally catches up with the character and he does something completely irrational just in the heat of the moment. Like our man choosing to fuck this girl's mouth.

There's such a beauty about sex being in contrast with something. Imagine some classical music in the background, like Vivaldi's four seasons or something that doesn't fit the setting at all, but it makes all the emotions flow through on such a different level. His character is so nasty and bitchy and the music is a complete contrast, a baroque piece, a work of art that he could never appreciate. But somehow, it's perfect in that situation.

I also find it incredibly satisfying when the sounds are reduced. Like all you see is his ass from one angle, and then from the other one her neat curls covering his crotch. But you don't hear anything, no moans, no groans, no anything. You're only left to imagine whether they are holding back, attempting to be silent or just letting it all out. Do you see the vision?

We certainly need to work on this man's name. Let's assume his is in his late 30s or early 40s. I googled some most used names from the time when he was born, let's pick one!

My personal favs are William (the girl would be the only person in the world who dares call him Will) and perhaps Henry or Thomas.

Also, if you want to, you can choose your emoji anon, so I know who's this clever person with such a big brain! :333

[glimzsparkle]

How Did The Writers Look For An Excuse To Ruin Glimmadora So They Could Make Catradora Canon?

"And how exactly they caused the toxic distribution by splitting the SPOP community into two as Glimmer and Catra haters?"

First of all, this isn’t a Catradora hate thread. I love both Glimmadora & Catradora. With that being said, if you’re still gonna be butthurt about this, you are free to go fuck yourself.

As people love to claim that Glimmer turned toxic and even evil according to some people, let’s start with how they have no reason to think so.

Glimmer may have been uncharasterically aggressive in season 4 due to grief. But remember; she’s the sweet sparkly princess who’d take a bullet for her friends and we all know it.

For all her life she’s lived under Angella’s concern as the queen was so scared of losing her daughter, just like she’s lost Micah too.

With Angella always holding Glimmer back and not letting her learn anything.

She’s preventing her to engage in battles, which causes her to lack war knowledge and forces her to be a princess who stays at the back rows like a coward unlike her character.

Glimmer perhaps doesn’t think that she’s fit to be a soldier let alone be a queen.

Angella prevented her from her true potential. Glimmer is a soldier who tries to learn how to be a commander, a good friend, and a good daughter all at the same time.

After Adora’s arrival, Angella lets her out of the cage but only slightly, just because she’s sure that Adora as She-Ra will take care of her daughter.

Angella even threatens Adora.

Glimmer is held back up until the end of S1.

Before she knows it, she gets the queen title but it’s nothing like she expected. Her mother didn’t resign; she died, and that leaves Glimmer with no choice but to become the queen.

Glimmer is too young and inexperienced for that. A few war experience and engaging in small battlefields did not feed her knowledge enough for diplomacy.

She is not ready. Not even ready to make a simple decision her aunt gushes about. She needs to mourn. She needs to cry first.

That adds a heavy burden on Glimmer’s shoulders. Before she could even mourn her mother, a huge kingdom is entrusted to her and people are expecting her to protect them, also she has to keep the Rebellion in line.

And the fact that Glimmer and Angella argued in their last conversation and she couldn't say sorry before she died; there’s also a guilty conscience within Glimmer.

So she is tense; sad and angry all the time but keeps it all inside until she can't take it anymore.

The best way to get rid of those feelings is to have them properly as it's meant to be. This is the healthy thing to do.

But she has no time to cry, no time to rage or mourn. Instead, Glimmer has to delay her feelings which only makes it worse. She isn't healing as she's supposed to. Instead, the suppressed feelings inside grow bigger, resulting in Glimmer being angrier.

(Adora defying Glimmer's orders)

Also, she is so insecure about being a queen since no one (not even Bow nor Adora) takes her seriously and treats her as a queen. Adds fuel to the fire.

These compressed feelings had to explode at some point, so the writers decide it would happen best with Glimmer raging upon Adora instead of Catra.

Has any of you noticed that Glimmer never blamed Catra for opening the portal that her mother was forever stuck in? Technically, Catra caused all of this.

Glimmer doesn’t seek revenge or doesn’t even say a word about her mother to Catra, not even when they’re fighting to the death above.

But somehow Glimmer snaps at Adora back then.

This scene is clearly forced. "The Rebellion is in a worse place than ever since you've showed up."

Come on.

Is it really something Glimmer would say? To ADORA? To her best friend who did a painful teleport in order to save Adora from Shadow Weaver? You should have done better than that, writers.

Glimmer yells at Adora and blames her for her mother’s loss. She is aware that it was wrong to take it out on her best friend, so she immediately attempts to fix her mistake.

Unlike Catra, it takes her only a moment to realize it was wrong and she wants to apologize.

Just when she’s about to make things right, Mermista interrupts it mid-way. Their friends are in danger and they have to delay their feelings aside if they want to save them. As I said before, it just makes things worse.

YET, Glimmer tries to make it up to her once again after they save the boys but this time Adora thinks Glimmer blames her for Angella’s death and refuses to listen to her.

Already upset due to many things I listed above before, Glimmer refuses to try to make things right when Adora doesn’t listen. That’s what ends their romance path completely.

Let's go back to the beginning because some people unbelievably find that Glimmer toxic too.

In S1, Glimmer behaves aggressively toward Adora because she is from the Horde –the syndicate that killed her father– which is a logical thing to do. But she realizes Adora is not really one of them with her pure heart and desire to save everyone to make a better world.

Over time they get intimately close. They share physical touches and they support/protect each other all the time.

That scene in the Mystcor proves they are not only friends. They feel safe around each other. Adora trusts Glimmer enough to relax by her side.

When Glimmer is captured, Adora saves everyone and surrenders herself in order to save her, not really caring about what would happen to her despite she knows what Shadow Weaver is capable of. It didn’t matter as long as Glimmer was safe.

And Glimmer knows Shadow Weaver’s magic could bring critical damage to her if she tried to teleport through it. She might lose her powers or get harmed badly.

But she does it without hesitation when it comes to saving Adora.

She risks everything for her, she goes through a massive pain trying to teleport. Because if Shadow Weaver succeeds, Adora won’t remember anything about them. About her.

As painful as it is, Glimmer even sheds a tear thinking about that possibility before breaking through.

With all that being said, I want people who claim Glimmadora was toxic just because Glimmer broke Adora’s heart for once –which she immediately wanted to apologize about– to just think about it as a whole.

The first thing Glimmer does when she reunites with Bow and Adora; she apologizes for everything she said and has done.

How is that toxic for you when Glimmer agrees to save Catra despite she is the one who caused her mother to vanish?

The writers have been so unfair to Glimmer for portraying her as a second antagonist. They wanted Catradora canon which is fine but it wasn't the proper way to star Catra's redemption while shading another character.

Especially one of the main characters like Glimmer who has been nothing but a good, protective and understanding friend.

I’m addressing the toxic people in the fandom: Say Glimmer is toxic, but what is Catra if anything but not toxic? For 4 seasons straight, Catra hurt everyone including Scorpia, Lonnie, and Glimmer besides harming Adora both mentally and physically. Be fair.

Just because you’re gonna show everyone that you like Catradora, you don’t have to talk bad about the other ship and vice versa. I don’t understand why people feel the need of criticizing one ship negatively and spreading pure hate when they like the other ship.

Be fair, be logical, let people enjoy things. Thanks for coming to my TEDx talk.

Farewell, fellars.

[starsmuserainbow]

First off, I feel the need to apologize.

I'll explain some more below the cut, but I want to keep the visible post short because I'm planning to be reblogging this a good few times. I will need to drop some things.

If I owe you a thing and I feel the need to drop it, I will come to your IMs or something and let you know - if I'm not saying anything and you get my reply, you can assume I wanna keep our thing.

If you owe me something, feel free to come ask me straight up if I wanna keep our thing or not. Otherwise, I will only be able to tell you whether or not I want to keep our thing once I get back your reply for the thing. Please don't just assume I dropped something, because I might want to keep it! Unless of course you don't want to continue the thing anymore, in which case, I absolutely will understand and accept that.

Okay, now that we're below the cut, on to some longer blabbers about why or how or, well, anything.

I'm feeling more and more unmotivated these days, and I have realized that that especially goes for a good bunch of things from Starfire here. Whether that means that I start to lose "muse" for her in general or maybe it's just about the things I'm doing with her, I don't know, but, point being - I need to drop things, hence this post.

I can assure you that it doesn't affect all the things on Starfire, and I assume it might affect some things of my others muses too, but I don't really have an overview of all the things, so uh, we'll find that out once I'm aware of a specific thing.

I don't have a thread tracker, and am very much not knowing of all the things I have going, so there's no way I'll be able to just know what I want to drop and what not of the things that I'm not currently owing - so I rely on either you coming to ask me if I wanna keep thing, or me being able to tell you once I do get back the reply.

Like said in the post before the cut already, please don't just assume our thing gets dropped. There are some things I very dearly love, and there are other things that I might not define as that but still as something I do wanna keep, so, I'm not dropping everything and I'd really be thankful if you can understand that.

Please, however the dropping fares towards you, know that I am very very sorry for needing to do so, and know that this is in no way anything personal or me saying I in general don't wanna interact with you. I just need to do something about the way I'm "losing" muse/motivation, and this is the way that I can think of.

For a little bit, hopefully only a short time, but really, likely until I have more muse/motivation back, I will also be kinda more picky on what asks I answer or what things I wanna actually continue or do as a thing. Again, this might more affect Starfire here than any of my other muses, but we'll see about that.

One more time. - I'm not dropping everything, - I will only be able to tell you if I wanna keep a thing if I'm owing or if you come ask me, - this is in no way any statement against anyone, I will probably still be happy to interact with you, just, at another time, - this mostly will affect things on Star, which I'm sorry for, but it's just how I feel about things or not that makes me decide if I drop something or not; - I'm just feeling a drastic lack of motivation these days and I need to try to "fix" that.

Thank you if you understand, and I'm sorry!

[demoiselledefortune]

Fics in which Jin Guangyao survives the ending (or is reborn, or timetravel shenanigans happen)

Where JGY is kept at Gusu by Lan Xichen

The Deep Dominion by Madrana 14234 words, Explicit

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31988605

After the clan leaders finally turn against Jin Guangyao, he is saved from his execution by Lan Xichen asking for him to be instead imprisoned in a house near the Cloud Recesses. Here, his freedom and all his power taken from him, with not much to do but remember all he once had and wait for Lan Xichen to visit him, A-Yao tries to figure out whether love alone is enough when everything else has crumbled into dust.

After Cruelty by Yen 1385 words, Not Rated

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970539

Lan Xichen swallowed hard. Just the thought of the inevitable outcome made his blood run cold. The mental image of Jin Guangyao, forced to his knees before the baying mob, neck bared and waiting for the executioner's blade to fall… he could not even bear to think of it. 

Really, there was only one way out.

Epistle from Gentian by zebaoth 5552 words, Mature (check the tags this one is pretty dark)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330995

Jin Guangyao survived the confrontation at the Guanyin temple. Now he lives in exile, under house arrest, at the Gentian House in the cloud recesses. Lan Xichen resides with him, ensuring that he does not leave his gilded prison.

This is the story of how their shared past and their shared present forces Lan Xichen to unravel.

Give no Quarter by thefaceofno 1500 words, Teen and up

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910713

When you die, how long does it take for people to forget you?

If they forget you before you die, is that the same as dying?

Confinement by clockwork_spider 2668 words, Mature (also pretty dark)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533835/chapters/41312477

After the events of the GuanYin temple, Lan XiChen took Jin GuangYao back to Cloud Recess and hid him away. Isolated with only Lan XiChen for the occasional company, Jin GuangYao slowly loses his mind. 

Content warning: solitary confinement, Stockholm syndrome, suicide ideation, self-harm, cat murder

In the smoke and dying ember, I’ll find you by Aria_Chu 3641 words, General Audience

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20041918

Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao live happily away from the cultivation world following the events of Guanyin Temple...

(ACTUALLY THEY DONT)

Timeloop/Time travel

Defying Your Fate by Fortune Maiden 6219 words, Teen and Up (Xiyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32674597

After the clan leaders finally turn against Jin Guangyao, he is saved from his execution by Lan Xichen asking for him to be instead imprisoned in a house near the Cloud Recesses. Here, his freedom and all his power taken from him, with not much to do but remember all he once had and wait for Lan Xichen to visit him, A-Yao tries to figure out whether love alone is enough when everything else has crumbled into dust.

RoundTwo by theRecorder 9,853 words, Mature (Sangyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828003

Before the temple

Before the siege

Before the campaign

Nie HuaiSang and Meng Yao suddenly wake up in the time and bodies before all of it

And now they meet for round two after three different previous lifetimes

Contemplate the darkness, crawl your way out by Gotcocomilk 7323 words, Teen and Up (Xiyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216506/chapters/47907925

It began, as it always did, above the stairs.

It would end at the bottom, where he pulled himself up and the beast in his skin roared. It would end standing above the stairs again, with gentle fingers gripping his.

But it began where he made every one of the most fateful decisions in his life.

Empathy by clockwork_spider 30062 words, Mature (Gen but centered on Nie Mingjue and JGY’s relationship)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571534/chapters/38830160

Stuck in the same coffin, Nie MingJue and Jin GuangYao’s souls were pulled together in an extended Empathy. Having experienced Jin GuangYao’s entire life from his perspective, Nie MingJue finds himself back in his younger body.

Before the Sunshot Campaign. Before Meng Yao was kicked down from the Koi Tower.

Where did the Stygian Tiger Amulet Go? By WangYue 24704 words, Teen and Up (Xiyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16342619/chapters/38236091

Inspired by the movie "Source Code"

This is the story of Jin Guangyao's repeated deaths in the goal of changing history, getting out of the coffin after his (first) death, and getting together with Lan Xichen, not in that exact order.

Reevaluation by Nirejski 2734 words, General Audience

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653915

First order of business: don’t underestimate Nie Huaisang, Jin Guangyao decided when he figured out that the bizarre talisman he’d found that promised to abrogate his greatest regrets had actually somehow implausibly worked and he was back in the past.

As for the rest of it, though - for Nie Mingjue, for Lan Xichen...

It was time to reevaluate.

(not really shippy)

Rebirth/Reincarnation

Grief Negotiation by Nomette 17513 words, Teen and Up (Xiyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016826/chapters/47395921

Five years after the events of Guanyin Temple, Lan Xichen is gifted a folio of songs written by Jin Guangyao. But the music he plays is more than just a song, and soon Lan Xichen's life and happiness hang on the brink as he struggles to unravel the mysteries surrounding him and save Jin Guangyao before it's too late.

Written for XiYao week 2019, for the prompt of "Alternative Ending."

A Troublesome Charge by Moonsheen 14208 words, Teen and Up (Xiyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301232

Sixteen years after the collapse of the Guanyin Temple in Yunping, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji must investigate a new mystery: the curious case of Nie Huaisang's entirely too knowledgeable young cousin, who has arrived at the Cloud Recesses with a peculiar set of skills, a shady past, and smile that's just a touch too familiar...

Spirits come back, after all.

Further than I ever had by SetsuntaMew 6279 words, Teen and Up (Xiyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256811

One day, when the skies are blue and the sun is shining brightly, things will feel small and less inconceivably impossible. When fields are green, when they’ve shed the skins and scars of the past, perhaps it will be better.

Life is a never-ending flow, a place for second or third or sixth chances, until one of them is right.

The sun shines overhead, time marches onward, and the many threads of fate weave together to bring two broken and repaired souls towards each other once again.

The Fox and the Deer by mercyandmagic 59308 words, Mature (Xiyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19975780/chapters/47289019

When Jin Guangyao finds himself resurrected through another body-sacrificing ritual, he plans to fulfill the caster’s wish and flee as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it seems the previous owner of his body had business with Lan Sect. Post-canon. Written for XiYao Week 2019, with each chapter loosely corresponding to the day's prompts.

Return to the Canva of Life by Shiome 5799 words, Teen and Up (Xiyao)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2275868

 Lan Xichen has spent so long becoming one with this house, this mountainside, this green. He knows immediately that someone new has set foot among the gentians.

 The man standing among blue flowers is young, svelte and elegant in his movements as he steps towards the Gentian House with purpose. He walks with such grace the flowers barely bend beneath his feet.

(120 years after the temple, someone sneaks into the Cloud Recesses looking for Zewu-jun.)

[sashi-ya]

It is okay to request a part 2 of angst Ace? like their child is searching for s/o in Amazon Lily and asked Ace: "Papa, when is Mama coming home?"

I'm so sorry 😭

Hi my dear! I got too into the story, so I always end up crying a little 😅. But, either way I hope you enjoy this second part full of pure angst! Thank you so much for requesting and reading ~ 💖

PART 2 - Portgas D. Ace x F! Reader ~ Why isn't she here?

PART 1: https://sashi-ya.tumblr.com/post/652998156866486272/hi-may-i-request-a-one-shot-of-ace-x-femreader

TW: pure ANGST. Hurting, wounds, blood. Mentions of death

WC: 887

Boa is asking Law about the state of health of Ace, while Luffy stays by his side making funny faces, but Ace won’t wake up.

“Mugiwara-ya, let him rest, all the wounds have opened again. He is not ok, please. Plus, you should rest too”, says Trafalgar Law, who thankfully arrived to give them treatment at a crucial moment while escaping Marineford.

Boa looks at the ground thinking about ways to make Luffy head off a little, and she offers him some food. Even Law has a worried expression on his face. The whole Heart pirates crew is outside, really touched about the news.

Jinbei is on the coast with Rayleigh taking some fresh air, trying to calm himself. He is wounded too.

Truth is, so many lives have been lost in the war, but all of them were deeply touched by the loss of Ace’s lover… because Ace won’t be the only one suffering…

While inside, Ace still remains unconscious, yet salty tears flow from the outside corners of his eyes and has his fist clenched hard over his heart… Losing the love of his life, made a scar over his heart, almost as if he has a big hole in it. But somehow, he keeps breathing.

Luffy tries to act tough, he struggles not to fall because of his weak legs, so Boa helps him to walk away from the room. Some Kujas have brought a big pile of meat, but he is not eating. It hurts to see his brother suffering, plus, he knew his sister-in-law since they were little.

“This is going to take a long time to heal, and I’m not even sure if this type of wound could be cured completely, Luffy-kun. We should be next to him, as much as we can”, Jinbei tells Luffy while both are sitting on the shore looking at the sunset. “Yeah…”, says Luffy, with a tone so unusual, almost extinct.

The night comes, and everybody goes to sleep. Luffy, who can’t fight anymore against the exhaustion, falls asleep sitting next to Ace with his head over the mattress. Boa, who is at his side, also falls asleep. While Law sits on the ground outside with his back over the wall with his katana on his shoulder. He does not sleep, he knows Hiken no Ace’s life is hanging on a very thin thread, so he is ready -even if he doesn’t show it- to save his life if it’s necessary.

The sea and his sounds surround the darkest of all the nights. Law is watching at his submarine docked on the port when he hears some child shouting. He turns around and devises a little kid running towards the hut. The doctor stands up, and sees some Kujas running behind the child, who screams “Daaaddy!! Mooommy!!”. He gasps, he knows the little girl is Ace’s daughter.

“Oi, oi, kid, stop”, he tells her trying to tackle her to avoid her entering. “Let-Let me in!!”, she says and kicks Law. “Rouge, wait!”, everybody shouts at the little girl, but she is already inside. Boa and Luffy wake up scared. “Dad…?”, she asks at the foot of the bed. Rouge cries, without any sound, but with tears that could flood the world. Uncle Luffy is not moving, Boa hugs the little girl, she is not moving either.

“R-Rouge…”, a weak voice struggles to say. “Daddy!!”, the little girl says, and aunt Boa let the little girl approach Ace. “Daddy, what happened?”, she asks. Ace reaches for her and pulls his daughter to his chest. He needs to feel the warmth of his baby girl. He brushes his hair, while Rouge hears the heartbeat of his father slowly increasing. “There is a reason to keep living, Ace”, says Luffy.

“Daddy… where is mommy? I searched for her all over this island, I couldn’t find her… is she here? When is Mama coming home?”, Rouge asks. Ace shuts his eyes, once again, he feels a dagger to his heart, slowly but firmly stabbing him. “How am I supposed to tell my daughter her mom died protecting me? I am the one who should protect her mother… She is going to hate me...”, Ace thinks repeatedly.

The moment seems to be stopped in time; Ace can’t hear anything besides the words of her daughter asking for her mum. He needs to tell her the truth, even if that means he is gonna lose his baby girl, too.

“Baby… Rouge, my baby…”, he mumbles. Rouge looks at his aching father, perhaps already knowing what he is about to say. “Mommy… Mommy is in heaven now…”, he tells her, trying to sound as soft as he could. “Daddy… Mommy is dead?”, she asks. Ace cries, but swallows something that tastes like sand, mixed with blood. “Yes, baby. Mommy is gone… I’m sorry, I’m sorry she died protecting me. It was my fault, I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry…”, he tells her, trying to stand up, failing miserably.

“Daddy… don’t leave me, please. Don’t you ever go away, ok?” Rouge tells his dad while wiping his tears out of his cheeks. Ace gasps, and tells his little baby girl, “I won’t baby, I will always be with you…”, and daughter and father close their eyes as they melt into a tight hug.

[taephilia]

lost (myself) & found (you)

pairing: jeon jungkook x gn!reader

genre: fluff, soulmate au, based off of kimi no na wa

warnings: one (1) swear word

word count: 2,120

a/n: i saw this quote from the movie and inspiration just struck and i haven't been able to get it out of my head since. ofc i wrote this for jungkook since he's a weeb and said he would also want to hear bells ring when he meets his soulmate <3 also this is not edited lol i'll come back to it later, i just wanted to get this out

"Once in a while when I wake up, I find myself crying. The dream I must’ve had I can never recall. But… the sensation that I’ve lost something, lingers for a long time after I wake up." - Tachibana Taki, Kimi No Na Wa (2016)

Jungkook isn’t sure how long he’s felt like this—felt like something is missing, something important, something that his heart just can’t seem to let go of even if his brain has already forgotten. He knows that he dreams of whatever it is. He recalls scenes as he goes about his day; a loud laugh here, a brush of a hand against his there. People that he’s never seen before walking by him in a city he’s never been to, music playing on the radio that he’s never heard, a family that he comes home to that he doesn’t recognize at all. It’s all very strange and Jungkook is starting to wonder if maybe the late night ramen he’s built up a habit of eating has gone bad or maybe the unhealthy amounts of salt in it are the cause behind this. Because it was all fun and games until Jungkook’s heart starts to ache, like it’s calling out to someone that his brain can’t even conjure up an image for. Someone that he would search the ends of the cosmos for, someone that, whenever he feels like he gets close to them, slips right through his fingers like grains of sand. But he shakes it off whenever the feeling comes and ignores the heavy feeling in his chest in favor of paying attention to that day’s classes. If he had somehow found his soulmate, it definitely wouldn’t be someone in his hometown in the countryside.

Soulmate. That’s who his grandfather had told him he’s been dreaming about ever since Jungkook confessed almost two months ago about the reason behind his ever-present furrowed brows and faraway look in his eyes. He says that it had happened to him when he was around Jungkook’s age but, like most dreams, he’s forgotten who it was. He then went on to talk about the red thread of fate and that’s when Jungkook started tuning out. It’s a nice concept to think about when you’re a child—a red string tied around your pinky that connects you to the person that you’re destined to be with—but it’s just a myth and Jungkook doesn’t have time to think about things that aren’t real. Not when he barely has the time to think about the things that are real, like college entrance exams and graduating from high school.

So he buries his head in his books and pours every last drop of blood, sweat, and tears into his studies to get into his dream college in Seoul. The yearning in his heart doesn’t go away but it’s eclipsed by the pure exhaustion that he feels at the end of every day. And, like most dreams, he forgets.

Jungkook is 23 when he seriously begins to wonder whether or not he’s going crazy. He had thought he was going over the deep end while in college but hearing bells go off? Now that takes the cake. It happens at random; he never knows when the bells in his head will ring (and Jungkook knows that only he can hear them because nobody around him ever gives any sort of indication that they’ve heard them) no matter how much he tries to prepare for it. He checks his surroundings every day, eyes scanning over the crowds of people weaving around him in Seoul, but it’s no use. The only consistent location that they seem to chime in is when he’s on the metro and even then, it’s on random days, at random times, and not always at the same stop.

He’s not the type to go chasing after fairy tales, or at least, he isn’t anymore. He doesn’t have time to think hard and long about what these imaginary bells could mean, not when he has a job to do and people to impress and money to be made. And his grandfather died during his second year of college so the only conversation of “soulmates” that occurs now are the ones he has with himself in his head and the memories of their conversations years ago. But as fate would have it, Jungkook took a couple of days off to get an early start to the weekend and he is just itching for an adventure. So when he hears the bells go off while he’s making his way to his connecting train, he closes his eyes for a brief moment and puts himself into the hands of fate.

Jungkook allows his feet to carry him where they want, observing his surroundings and keeping an eye out for any person who gives any sort of indication to hearing something that they shouldn’t be hearing. He climbs up the stairs and out of the station, not giving any attention to the people who side-eye him for standing still on a bustling sidewalk, but looks down at his hand instead. In particular, at his pinky, which feels like there’s something squeezing at it. Like… like a thread that’s been tied snugly around it.

The red thread of fate, a voice in his head whispers to him and Jungkook almost chuckles out loud at the thought. And then almost laughs out loud again because, although he doesn’t believe in soulmates, his actions say otherwise. Because as much as Jungkook doesn’t believe in soulmates… Well, the thought of them and the red thread of fate being real is nice, isn’t it? Someone that you’re destined to be with, connected to by a string that can tangle and stretch but will never fray, keeping you tied to them for all eternity. It’s a comforting thought, especially when he thinks of his extremely lacking love life that comes with his high standards and fear of rejection.

Jungkook passes by a bakery during his fate-led walk and just as he’s considering stopping in to buy something, he hears the bells again. A light sound, one that could be mistaken for a phone notification, but one that he knows very well. But Jungkook’s soulmate must be as used to the sound as he is because no one around him gives any sort of indication that they’re also in search of him. And after an hour and a half of walking around a part of the city that he isn’t too familiar with, he’s ready to call it quits for the night. So Jungkook makes his way to the nearest metro station and gets on a train home.

Of course, that’s when he hears the bells again.

He looks up from his phone and around the crowded train but nobody has been able to move since the doors closed. And if it were someone near him, he would have heard them before. There’s a flash out of the corner of his eye and when Jungkook looks up and out the window of the sliding doors, he sees a pair of eyes staring back. A pair of eyes that are not his but in fact belong to someone in a train traveling right next to his. They stare right at him and mirror his own when they widen at the exact same time as his. But just as soon as Jungkook finds you, he loses you just as quickly when your train goes in a different direction.

Jungkook spends the entire day the next day looking for you. He manages to cross off everything on his “things to do when I’m in Seoul” bucket list that he’s been adding on to for the past 10 years. His feet hurt, his wallet feels significantly lighter than when he first left his apartment, and he’s wondering how much weight he lost from walking what feels like the entire expanse of Seoul three times over. And even after all that, he hasn’t heard the bells. Not once.

And it’s at this point, when Jungkook decides to eat dinner at his favorite ramen shop before calling it a night, that he begins to wonder if he had missed his chance last night. Not like it was much of a chance considering the fact that you were on a different train and he had no way of getting to you. But fate is cruel, isn’t that what some people say? Maybe his thread is just so tangled, so frayed, that it’ll take a lifetime before he’s able to get another glimpse at you. And Jungkook just isn’t that patient.

He can barely even remember what you look like anymore. Maybe it’s the hunger eating away at his stomach and the aching of his feet but as he eats his ramen, he can only recall vague details about you. Like how he wants to drown in your eyes, how soft your skin looks even through two dirty train door windows, and how he thinks your shiny hair probably smells nice - like vanilla or peaches or something. But your face? Absolutely nothing. It’s like he blacked out the second he looked up at you last night.

Jungkook leans back in his seat as he sips at his water, staring out the window of the shop as if you would walk past right that second. But you don’t. So Jungkook throws a couple of bills down onto the table for a tip and heads out, a sigh leaving his lips when he looks around but doesn’t hear any bells. Now that he’s had a chance to sit down and eat, he feels a bit more rational and more determined to find you—but that can wait until tomorrow after he’s had a good night’s sleep. It’s a bit later in the evening so there’s barely anyone around him as he makes his way to the nearest metro station that will take him home. Jungkook is just about to descend the stairs when something makes him stop. He’s not really sure what it is that he stops for; the bus honking on the street beside him or the group of friends laughing as they walk by him? Or perhaps it’s the person at the bottom of the stairs, their eyes looking down as they climb up, but Jungkook just knows that it’s you.

Well, he doesn’t actually know. He’s pretty sure it’s you. It feels like it’s you. But is that fate talking or just his hopeful heart? Jungkook decides not to say anything and slowly walks down the stairs. The bells will tell him if he’s right. Your eyes glance up and meet his and Jungkook sees them widen, but like him, you don’t say anything. Are you waiting to hear your own bells?

He shoves his hands deep into the pocket of his hoodie, eyes quickly darting away from yours to stare holes into the ground as he keeps walking. His heart beats faster with every step and he has to resist the urge to just stare at you point blank because he needs to know and-

He hears the bells. And it’s like a weight is taken off of his shoulders.

But he keeps walking. And you keep walking. And now Jungkook is panicking because why the fuck is he still walking? You’re his soulmate, he found you, so why isn’t he stopping? Jungkook tries to get his feet to stop moving, to just turn around and call out to you but he can’t. What would he even say? ‘Hey, you’? He doesn’t even know your name. ‘I think you’re my soulmate’? How disgustingly cliche. What if you don’t even care that he’s your soulmate? What if you’re already seeing someone? What if he’s the only one that can hear the bells for you and you hear them for someone else? What if-

“Um, excuse me?”

Jungkook almost trips on the last step from how fast he turns around at the sound of your voice. His hands feel clammy but he keeps them in his pocket otherwise you’d be able to see how they’re shaking ever so slightly. He drags his eyes up to yours and suddenly, every bit of anxiety he felt is suddenly gone. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?

“Have we met before? You seem really familiar.”

You’re at the top of the stairs now but you step down a few steps, as if you want to get closer. Jungkook climbs back up a few steps because he does want to get closer. There’s an easy smile on his face as he says, “Found you.”

He isn’t sure where it came from. He isn’t even exactly sure what he means. But it feels like the right thing to say, like something that he’s vaguely remembering from a dream he had a long time ago. And judging from the matching smile on your own face, you know what Jungkook means.

“Took you long enough.”

[mxvladdy]

Hi, I love your writings 💜 and wanted to suggest a prompt, but if it won't hit you or if your requests are closed than feel free to ignore.

What if MC will forget the brother and that they are in relationship (it can be as side effect of some spell /potion etc, but it will last for quite some time, no one knows how long). How brothers will react on that? What they will do to make MC fall in love again, or will they do anything at all? Or they decide that it's the chance to change everything? What if MC won't love them again? I don't know if that can be angsty (I want some angst), or you can do whatever style you find appropriate. Anyway, if you don't feel like doing for 7 brothers you can do only for brothers of your choice (who you feel comfortable to write about, but maybe Lucifer, Mammon and Beel?? ).

Thank you! And have a good day or night!

A/N: 80000 years and a day later I post lol ;.;. Sorry for the wait! I tried something new with this, hope you like :)

So I was going to drop all three at the same time but it turned into 20+ pages of work. So I will post in 3 separate parts since they all turned into beefy boys... Much like their counterparts >:)

Hope you like it!!!

Part One of Three: Lucifer

Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing. It permeates the Devildom like an eternal fog. For the residents, it is as common as breathing. From the strongest of their kind down to the lowest inhabitants, it is integral to their culture and daily life. Mistakes and accidents happen daily with young and old alike learning or experimenting. Magical rebounds and mishaps mean very little to them, especially the brothers. From the Celestial Realms down, they have seen it all.

Sometimes they forget that to you, magic can be a volatile and dangerous.

The crackle of energy and the acrid taste of sour magic on his tongue are his only warnings before things went south. He reaches for you, strong arms moving to shield you from the blowback of energy discharging around you both. Lucifer crouches, turning his back to the explosion to cover you from the debris and dust raining down. The rebound of the failed spell washes over him for a moment turning his stomach on impact. A heavy miasma coats the room. It weighs down his wings momentarily before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

Once the dust settles, the room fills with light-hearted teasing and jabs at the inept caster. Whatever chastising remark he had stuck to his tongue. When he looks down at you the air seizes his lungs in horror. You were heavy and unresponsive in his arms, eyes closed and face slack. Physically, he could see nothing wrong with you, no hair unkempt or dust on your uniform. He shakes you trying in vain to rouse you.

He doesn’t remember fleeing the room with you clutched tight to his chest nor the shouts of his confused brothers all he could focus on was your limp body cradled in his. You weren’t waking up. None of his magic was working, and you were still sleeping. It was like looking down at his brothers all over again. The feeling of dread, of helplessness, had him staggering. You were like his little Lilith all over again, another failure in his unending life span.

The healer's answers do nothing but anger him. Diavolo’s weak speculations drive him into a frenzy. Wait, they want him to wait. For how long was anyone's guess. They say that you just need rest, the human body is unaccustomed to such stresses. That though your body is weak, a human’s spirit is strong. You’ll recover-he had to trust that you would heal on your own. Trust… he had so little of that left to begin with, but he had he gave to you.

He couldn’t lose you. Couldn’t lose this small flicker of hope you brought into his life, of happiness. He didn’t want to be alone again.

So he waits, a permanent sentinel by your bedside. He sits in silence stuck with his sins. His rough hewn palms cover your small hand to warm your cooling finger tips. He strokes them with callused fingers. He contemplates all the little things he could have done differently while he waits. Hells, what he should have done differently. Spells at the best of times were unruly and dangerous and in the hands of a novice? He shakes his head squeezing your hand. He was so stupid to have let you take that course. Why hadn’t he told that weak pissant of a demon off for trying such an incantation? Or at least to take it outside. Was he that bad of a protector? Of a lover? Deep down he wants to be angry at you. That this somehow was all your fault, with your puny human constitution and defenses. He wants to blame you but the moment passes with a gut-twisting sense of guilt and almost shame.

The days move on unceasingly, the clock on your wall mocking him with every steady tick and turn of the hand. With each moon that passes his simmering anger and wounded pride cools to an ice cold fear in his veins. The healers stopped showing up daily, they were at a loss like the rest of them.

No one would say it, least of all around him, but he heard it travel down the halls like an unwelcome guest. The whispered sympathy, the soft admissions of acceptance. He blocks them out, his world narrowing down to nothing but your icy hand and weak pulse. Your room begins to turn into his. His paperwork fills your desk, while he holds meeting over the phone. One hand clutching his phone to his ear and his other always touching you. No one but him is going to take care of you. He refuses help, turning down Diavolo’s increasing offers and pleas of support.

He turns them down each and every time. He will take care of you.

Yet, no matter how much he tends to you and researches you remain inert.

It’s maddening, he was suffocating under the weight. Finally he tips. One night drunk and desperate in his destroyed room he does the last thing he could think of.

The hardwood of his bedroom is unforgiving under his knees. The cold of it soaks through his pants and the harsh grain digs into his skin. But he doesn’t care, he wasn’t looking for absolution anymore, he was begging for your salvation.

It burns him bowing like this. His pride lashes out, roaring like the untamed beast it was as he dives deep searching within himself to find the tattered remains of his former self. Each second with his eyes closed and head bent was tortuous as his pleas fill the oppressive silence of the room. No matter the discomfort of the moment he can only think of you. No cost was too steep to have you open your eyes again.

Lucifer should have known going back to his father would be a mistake. Nothing was ever simple with them, everything was by their rules and their way. Not even being the once most favored son could fix that. Your eyes open, sure. They are hazy with confusion, but also bright and full of life. You were back.

Papers forgotten Lucifer approaches you like he would a wounded animal. He stares in disbelief for a moment before succumbing to his need to hold you. “Amata-” He breathes out in relief into your neck squeezing you closer to him. Lucifer pulls away when he notices you not embracing him back. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. You just took me by surprise is all.” You rub your eyes and smile wearily. “What did I do to deserve such a good morning hug?”

His smile fades, hearts sinking. “Do you not remember?”

“Remember?” Hmmm. You look around you at the clutter of your room. “I- remember being in class, then you over me.” Something must have happened, but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall. He fills you in leaving small blanks hoping to see some recognition in your bewitching eyes. But you sit, nodding along taking his word as gospel truth. “Wow.” You lean back on your pillows. To be asleep for so long, you had so much work to catch up on. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

There was an odd look in his eyes before he nods, rising to his feet. “Of course… for you, anything.” He flees then, choking back a sea of emotions to go fetch a healer to look you over. It was as he expected. You were whole and healthy again, back to your old wonderful self. Except for him. Did you truly remember none of him? Have you really forgotten how he held you at night when you were able to tear him from his works.

How could you forget the words he would whisper to you as you drifted off long after the candles had been snuffled out, the sweat had cooled on your skin, and your limbs loose and tangled with his? Would you ever remember the way he would watch you at school? How he would search for you and watch you with vigilante and hungry eyes. You were not his little lamb anymore. Even after everything he had lost you.

It was what he bargained for with his father it seemed.

He calls a meeting soon after informing his brothers and the Prince of your condition without telling them of his speculations as to why. “We will say nothing.” He speaks standing rigidly while the room erupts with confusion around him.

“Why not tell them?” Beelzebub asked brows drawn low in concern.

“And say what?” Lucifer rubs at his nose pinching the bridge tightly already feeling a dull throbbing growing underneath. “What would it change?” He leaves it at that and retreats to his room. He looks at his dusty chambers and broken furniture from his explosive temper. It is so cold again without you there. This is how it must be. The thought brings a broken whine from his lips. Tt soaks through his leather gloved hand, refusing to be shoved down. He didn’t want to believe he was so forgettable, that something as intimate as his trust and love was so weak in your soul. He had thought surely he had ingrained himself deeper than that. You were in his mind.

He turns to his private libraries that night, looking for any scrap of information he could find. Perhaps the threads of him were there within you, maybe they just needed to be mended. He often forgot how malleable the human mind was, how easily things can just slip from them. Each book on the topic started promisingly enough before piddling off to a dead-end or debunked hypothesis.

He hunts down the student that had fired the spell. If he knew the original purpose of the spell maybe he could recreate the reaction? No, yet another dead end.

He comes to realize one night sitting hunched over on the grimy floor that either your mixed blood had altered the spell's intentions or the fact that since you were not in your original timeline it had changed something deeper within you that none of them had taken into consideration. Or, perhaps-just maybe he truly did make a deal with Father.

Devil below, he hoped that wasn’t true. How ironic it would be that the first time they had heard his pleas to only answer it with more pain and punishment. Either way, he must accept this...eventually.

“You know, if you keep frowning like that it’ll leave permit winkles.” Lucifer ignores his brother, not glancing up from his journals to entertain him. He had recently found more old tomes deep in his studies. “Luci.” Multi-colored nails block his view of his documents.

“Move Asmodeus. I will not ask again.”

Asmo frowns but moves his hand back to his hip. “You need to breathe brother. Take a minute for yourself.” Lucifer snorts dismissively, flipping to the next page. Asmo sighs deeply, his old bones rattling with the heavy gust of air. “You know you won’t find anything in there. We’ve all tried, you know? Read up on fruitless leads and scoured the depths of the catacombs too. Satan’s hands are a mess from rummaging through his books.” He swallows thickly. “Perhaps it is time.”

“Time for what?” Lucifer rises to his impressive height towering over his smaller brethren. “I do not like what you are implying Sakhr.” Asmo flinches, he hates that damn name. He calms the simmering rage underneath his well kept skin. Lucifer was hurting, he lashes out blindly when he is. He always suffers alone.

“I’m not implying anything. We just want-” Lucifer laughs, the hollow sound pulls at the emptiness within Lust’s heart.

“What would you know of my wants?” His ruby eyes lock with Asmo’s. It was a mistake. Lucifer’s presence was imposing at the best of times, but as mad as he was now it was a knee jerk reaction from Asmo to put his guard up. It was a strong defensive mechanism that Asmo took special care not to let slip, but as Lucifer approaches him shoulder hunching and chest puffing up in anger. It took only a moment for his defenses to take over, eyes locking Lucifer saw exactly what he wanted reflected back at him.

He didn’t know what Lucifer saw but he could see the absolute agony etching into his older brother's glassy eyes with each second. Asmo steps back breaking eye contact with a gasp, the trance between them breaking. “I-I’m sorry!” He trembles.

Lucifer says nothing but raises a shaking finger while he collects himself. Finally, he looks up, face impassive once more. He shakes his head and points to the two chairs in front of his desk. A wordless order that Asmo takes. Asmodeus watches Lucifer busy himself with a decanter, broad back turned to him. “You meant no harm,” Lucifer says, voice tight. He turns back with two glasses in hand. “ I-my aggression was unnecessary.” He offers Asmo a glass before sitting back in his throne-like chair with a grunt. They drink in silence.

Asmo swirls the spicy drink around his tongue thinking hard. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He thought he could make things better by offering a shoulder or ear, perhaps tell Lucifer that you were doing well. You didn't seem to notice the hole at the table or in the classroom where Lucifer used to join you and the rest of them to eat or study. They had missed seeing him look so at peace around them. Everything had reverted back to like it was when you first arrived between the two of you, and it was affecting everyone. “Talk to me?” Lucifer blinks.

“And say what?” He peers at his empty glass before grabbing the decanter. “I’m fine? I have meetings piling up and I frankly don’t give a damn anymore. Or the fact that I have yet to cancel the table I had reserved for our anniversary dinner?” His last words waver dangerously before he burns them away with a large gulp of his drink. He sees the look in Asmo’s honey-colored eyes when he looks up. “I don’t need pity.”

Asmodous sniffs, waving away the thought. “Please. We all know better than that. I just want to check on you, and perhaps give you an idea?”

“What idea could you have that I have not thought of?” He asks curiously. Asmo lights up leaning in.

“What if we’ve been going about this the wrong way? We’ve been looking at magic to solve this when the answer was in front of us the whole time. Humans aren’t used to magic, so why look to it for the solution?”

“I don’t follow.” Lucifer puts his glass down leaning back in his chair. Was science what he needed to look at? He had tried that, had talked to human doctors and surgeons that owed him “favors”. They were as unhelpful as the rest.

“We are thinking like demons! We have to think like a human, woo them again. You did it once, surely their attraction wasn’t wiped out, just their memories.” Ahh. Lucifer shakes his head. He had thought of that, staring at himself in the mirror. Many nights were filled with the nagging fears of defeat. If his father had a hand in your recovery could he even be allowed to try again? Lucifer looks back at all the things he said those nights kneeling by your side. It was foolish, what even contract he might have accidentally made had too many open ends, too many half wishes, and clauses.

“I’m afraid I have already thought of that my brother.”

“Then why haven’t you tried? Have you given up?” Asmo is met with silence. “Does that mean the rest of us have a chance?” He gets the reaction he was looking for then. Lucifer’s form shutters, a full body twitch as his body blurs around the edges in warning. “Seems to me like you haven’t given up yet. So what is stopping you.”

Lucifer crumbles under his brother’s worried gaze. Perhaps he could divulge his worry, just this once. “I asked father Az.”

Asmo gasps in surprise, eyes wide in disbelief, then dawning realization. “You think They did this?” Lucifer shrugged, running a hand through his disheveled locks. “They wouldn’t-they couldn’t...could they?” None of the brothers knew what their father was up to anymore, nor if They were even still able to track them. It was an ever present cloud of stress over all of them. While they trusted Diavolo and his protection, the nagging fear was never-ending.

“This is perfect!” Asmo claps his hands together. Lucifer stares at him in confusion. Lust’s smile grew toothy and dangerous. “Do you know what this means?”

“No.” His younger brother snorts looking down at his nails. His mind was running a mile a minute. For as organized and crafty as Lucifer is, he sure had his moments.

“Think about it. If Father did meddle then you have to try courting them again. Defying Father is a talent!” Asmo claps his hands in giddy delight. “Wouldn’t it just chafe their linens if you got back together?”

“And what if They didn’t meddle?”

“Then what do you have to lose?” Lucifer laughs. It was breathy and lifeless at the start but grew in intensity as Asmo’s words sunk in. Why was it when he said it it made sense?

“As devious as ever Az.” Lucifer smiles. Yes, he could win you back easily and reclaim his pride all in one fell swoop. “Thank you for reminding me of who I am.” They were troublemakers, the lot of them and it was time for him to prove it once more that he was the worst of them.

He starts the next day dressing down for once in his long life. He wears an outfit you always complement tucked neatly into a pair of dress slacks you bought him after a date gone awry. He smirked, remembering the tight squeeze of your hand on him on the drive home. The friction of your palm on the smooth material...he tipped his dry cleaner extra that night. “Good morning.” He purrs out in greeting taking his seat at the head of the table. The few brothers around the table freeze for a moment, keen eyes darting from him to where you sat still eating as if nothing had changed. Asmodeus shot him a wink.

“Morning.” You chirp back around your spoon. “It’s good to see you back at the table. Finally got a break from work?” The demons hold their collective breath.

“Yes, you can say that I came to a revelation of sorts.” He hums into his mug.

From that point on no matter what corner you turn on Lucifer was there. A pleasant smile on his lips and an offer of aid. “Thank you for the help!” You drop the large stack of books on your desk with a satisfied grunt. “You know- even though our pack is still somewhat new, if you need help with your work I’d be glad to give you a hand too!”

“Would you?” He hides his predatory grin under his hand. “ Some of the matters I have to attend to will require some long, hard work. It may take up some of your nights.” The flush that graces your cheeks and the warm buzz from his pact mark make him giddy.

“I’m willing.”

Slowly he begins to pull you back into his world. He leaves well placed hints of your past together scattered around his workspace. Your favorite Devildom blooms and treats always seem to be around when you come to offer your help in the evening. He slips old pet names into daily conversations as you scribble notes and transcribe letters for him by the soft light of his desk lamp. Pacing himself was never so hard before in his life. Was he finally cracking through? Or were you falling for him again? It was a heady rush to be sure, the mix of anticipation and thrill of such earthly courting made him realize many things he didn’t see the first time around. He learns all over again just what he loved about you.

He had forgotten how patient you were around him and with his siblings. Your keen eye and attention to detail reminded him just why he trusted you. You flitted about him picking up things he missed and settling brotherly disputes without him having to waste his breath. It was almost like things were going back to normal, minus the cold sheets beside him at night. But he sticks to his plan, finding pleasure in simply learning about you all over again.

It came to an end sooner than he had expected.

“Enter.” Lucifer calls from his overflowing desk. It was finals time once again and the damages done to school property were picking up dramatically. He heard your fluttering heartbeat before you even entered his domicile. It picks up as you approach.

“Am I interrupting?

Lucifer looks up from his work, a grin growing on his tired face. “For you, never.” You smile back, coming closer. You held a mug of coffee in your hands. The beast within him wanted to raise its hackles in triumph and howl. His life must be a divine comedy. This night is playing out just like it did nearly a year ago. Did you remember too? Or was this just how it always was meant to be?

“I haven’t seen you in a bit, and got concerned.” You fiddle with the handle of the copper mug. Lucifer nods, it was true. He regrettably had to put his plans with you on hold, he had spent so much time scheming he had let a few things build up. “Asmo told me you were hold up in here working, and I thought you could use a pick me up. He-he helped me make you some coffee.”

Ah. It wasn’t the same as the first time, but it was a matter of time before his sibling started meddling again. He takes the cup from your outstretched hand. “Thank you, this is much appreciated.” You glow under his praise taking a seat by his side.

“Need any help?” You eye the stack of papers with interest. “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading the fine print.”

“Have you now?” He pushes a small stack of papers towards you. “Very well, I would love your company again.” You take the work with a nod eager to spend time with him again. He watches you work, unable to contain his growing smile before looking down at the cup by his side. The tar-black coffee looks back at him. Oh, how he wished to commend his brother and berate him all at once. It is putrid and stomach-churning but he savors it all the same.

“Is it alright?” You pause watching him drink in. You have never seen him so enraptured by a drink before.

“Yes.” It will be.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 2

The Girls Are Fighting!!!

We return to Aguefort Adventuring Academy where the man himself has just told the Seven Maidens that their party is being split up which they are NOT having even though it doesn’t seem to be a malicious plot so much as the fact that Danielle, Ostentatia, and Zelda are Juniors while the other four are graduating Seniors. Antiope casts Hunter’s Mark on Aguefort, Penny pleads, Katja threatens (well, “threatens”; she walks up menacingly and then says that he can’t do this because it’s the only group of friends she’s ever had and it’s heartbreaking like all of her non-hilarious dialogue is).

Aguefort understands that it sucks and has no respect for rules but says it’s out of his hands. Sam clocks that he’s hiding something (along with the fact that he seems to know about something going on with Antiope and Penny which we know is their respective internship/apprenticeship offers) and calls him out, hitting him with a Lightning Lure to drag his ass back when he tries to turn into a bat and escape out the window. She’s unhinged and I love it. 

So does Aguefort who decides to let them in on some school secrets, leaving a decoy while he leads them all to the super secret part of the forbidden library which is bondage themed because sure. Also, Ostentatia is topless for this also because sure. He does a lot of pomp and circumstance to summon a book which Yelle flatly says better not just be the syllabus and it isn’t but she’s close. It’s the bylaws of the school district which he has summoned for the guidelines on the special, magical thing the girls can get so they can graduate together…

Their GEDS!!!!! Trés mystical. 

Basically what they need to do is complete a level A, B, or C quest together (which Antiope knows are like the top 3 highest difficulty quests--they go from A-F) and get signoff from the superintendent. But the superintendent has been missing for 12 years and there can’t be a new one until she’s dead (which she isn’t or else they’d be able to appoint a new one). Her name is Tectonya Karkovnya (who I will be calling TK) and Aguefort calls her, “chaotic and impossible to predict,” which coming from him is como se dice, troubling. 

Sam pulls out her mirror to do a little snooping on TK’s past and sees that she’s a coppery, earth genasi woman. She also sees her talking to Aguefort and saying that the magic of consciousness is far superior to his beloved chronomancy. Then the scene shifts to show her getting more and more worried as she got deeper into her studies and then going to a dwarven holy site in the Mountains of Chaos with some kind of shadow figure following her. 

Penny gets photos of the super cursed bylaws and Arthur leaves since he very much is the principal of the school and has to do his job (ostensibly). With Aguefort gone, the girls discuss the proposition after conscripting a very reluctant Antiope to be their leader (Aabria hilariously improvises that a shaft of sunlight somehow comes down to illuminate her and she has to step out of the spotlight). 

They discuss whether they want to do this GED quest or not and Zelda says she wants to but she wants to give anyone who has other stuff going on an out so they don’t feel beholden. Ostentatia immediately shoots back that Zelda is just saying that because she has plans with Gorgug. That brings down the mood and Sam, despite being a water genasi, fans the flames by saying that Gorgug has lots going on that doesn’t involve her so she shouldn’t be running back to him all the time. 

Yelle tries to calm things down and says they should sleep on it but Sam and Ostentatia are taking this super personally and are offended that they’re even having this conversation. Penny accidentally lets slip that she has some kind of apprenticeship (she’s trying to keep it on the DL because it’s supposed to be a secret) and oh man it becomes a Whole Thing. They fight in the way that you do when everyone in the fight actually wants the same thing and cares deeply about each other but are in completely different headspaces which are making them lash out.

Penny, not wanting to be around the conflict, goes invisible. Zelda is suppressing going into a rage and says that maybe she should go be with Gorgug. At least he won’t yell at her. Yelle once again tries to cool things down and suggests they have a text thread where they can say if they’re in or out by the end of the night instead of hashing it out in the open. She’s accused of not being in and, in response, texts that she’s in. Ostentatia and Sam also immediately text that they’re in, which basically makes her “solution” entirely moot. 

Zelda is finally fully fed up and leaves (Penny following invisibly). Katja also follows. 

Antiope can tell that Sam is upset about something that’s not this but Sam brushes her off rudely and storms off (quite literally, causing storm clouds outside in her wake). Yelle goes after her. Ostentatia is left with Antiope.

Time for a string of very emotional mini scenes which I highly encourage you to watch because they are peak improv.  

Zelda, Katja, (Invisible) Penny

Katja runs to find Zelda who is under a tree crying and asks if she’s OK. Zelda says that Sam and Ostentatia are so beautiful and confident and eloquent and she gets so tongue tied and useless when they disagree with her because she’s so timid. Zelda wants this so bad but she doesn’t want to feel like she’s forcing her friends to stay with her. 

Katja, as we know, has major abandonment issues because of her constantly away dad (and prob her mom too) and she doesn’t want to be left behind again but she also doesn’t want her friends to factor her in so she tries to be stoic and says that the people you love have to want to stay. But with a 3, Zelda immediately clocks the emotion behind the words. Instead of calling her out, Zelda offers to listen to music with her. 

Penny takes this opportunity to make herself known (which has got to be terrifying--unless you’re used to it and then it’s like same shit as usual from Ms. Luckstone) and Zelda goat jumps to grab her out of the tree she was crying in above them and tells her that she doesn’t have to go invisible every time there’s conflict. They all agree that they hate confrontation and Rehka gets the funniest lowkey line of the episodes: that she wouldn’t know what to do if they didn’t agree on that. We then cut to…

Ostentatia and Antiope

Where Izzy gets the high key funniest moment of the episode by transitioning in with a big, “You know I LOVE confrontation,” which breaks everyone at the table. But she says it as a preface to admitting that she may have been a bit of a bitch to Zelda. She plays coy for like a half second before she breaks down sobbing with Antiope catching her before she sinks fully to the floor. Antiope comforts her and admits that while she wants to stay with the party, she hates having options taken away from her as they have been her whole life effectively. She was honestly kind of relieved when she was trapped in the crystal because it meant all that pressure was gone for a bit. They affirm that they love each other then Ostentatia goes to apologize to Zelda. 

Danielle and Sam

Yelle goes to talk to Sam (who she adorably calls “merbae”) and while Sam doesn’t wanna talk about it, Yelle says they don’t have to. She just wants to be there for her in whatever capacity she needs. She knows Sam loves her friends and would never hurt them on purpose so something must be wrong with her-- “History of abandonment?” Sam finishes, almost glibly. She’s tired of losing people. She doesn’t want to lose more. She doesn’t want things to change. Nature is change, Yelle says. Nature sucks, Sam says. Yelle is gonna pretend like she didn't hear that. 

Sam feels bad that she snapped at Zelda and Yelle says that they’re all a family. Things will be alright. The storm clouds that Sam reflexively summoned peter out into a cool, refreshing mist. 

Ostentatia and Zelda

Ostentatia goes to where Zelda and the girls are and full ass runs at her like they weren’t just fighting. After assuring her that she’s not there to fight she apologizes, saying she was a cow. Zelda says she honestly agrees with Ostentatia that she wants the group to stay together and wishes she could be bolder in non-rage settings. Ostentatia says that maybe if the Seniors leave they can still have a party and Penny vetos that even though, as Ostentatia says, it’s a pretty reasonable compromise. Anyway, they basically all go in a circle saying they love each other and it’s very sweet. 

I’m serious, I can’t do these heart to hearts justice in this format, just go watch them for that emotional girl group goodness.

Anyway, outside of the main group, Antiope goes to talk to her sister Corsica who is currently teaching a class. Antiope does not give AF. She orders the students out and they scatter. Wouldn’t you?

Antiope wants advice. Should she stay with her party after flaming out of her last one? Should she take the internship and stay on the path her parents want her on? Corsica really feels for her. Antiope has had to struggle in a way that she and their brothers never did. She finally answers that she and her brothers are awesome and successful fighters but none of them have been able to do the scariest thing possible: disappoint their parents. They’re soldiers. They like it that way. They fall in line. But maybe Antiope isn’t a soldier. Maybe she’s a leader. She ordered those kids out of the room without thinking after all and they obeyed. It’s an extremely good speech and Antiope basically has chills, as do I.  

I assume while this is happening or perhaps right before everyone goes home, Penny goes to see Jawbone (who has some spiffy new art--as did Gilear who cameoed early in the episode when Aguefort atomic wedgied him invisibly because sure) and talk about this uber difficult decision she had to make. Jawbone gets to the heart of the matter pretty quick. Penny is a high achiever who’s lived a life without choice. But now that she’s about to be off the rails for the time she’s freaking out. Penny sees the truth in the statement (after hilariously trying to solve his metaphor about an amusement park) and thanks him for the perspective. She then, in a very Fig move, tries to kiss him and Jawbone basically stiff arms her and breezes right past like it didn’t happen, showing her out. What a trooper that Jawbone.   

Moving on to Katja. When she gets home she tries to call her dad who is unreachable on his hell mission. She leaves him a message saying that he should call her back when he can and she knows what she wants for her graduation present now. She wants her party to not break up. This breaks Brennan and me. 

She then snoops arounds for info on TK. She sees letters of her dad trying to get her into Hudol. And she sees some stuff from the Ministry of Adventure, asking if he knew where TK was. But she doesn’t get anything else. At least, she doesn’t get anything else that’s helpful. She does however find a picture of her mom which makes her bolt to go talk to Cinnamon who prances for her to make her feel better. She joins in dancing, badly.

EDIT: I initially wrote that Katja’s mom was dead because that’s what I thought she said but @ennn said that in the Adventuring Party, Rekha said that her mom didn’t die, she left. Which is less dramatic in some ways but SO MUCH WORSE for abandonment issues so, yikes girl!

Yelle meanwhile goes home to talk to her unofficial third mom, Holly, who is the awakened tree under which her house is. Picture a Grandmother Willow situation from Pocahantas basically. Yelle talks about the conflict a bit and, as usual, ends up on a tangent about how the world is unfair and she has to speak for the voiceless. Holly is concerned for her (as are her other moms which I may have neglected to mention in the last recap). She asks Yelle if she can tell her something that might be painful. Yelle agrees. Holly says that Yelle is great and wonderful and kind but she spends so much time speaking for other people that she never speaks for herself. Her moms worry that there will come a day when she needs help and will have to ask for it without couching it in terms of the greater good and she won’t be able to. 

Yelle really hopes she’s high when the time comes. 

At her home, Ostentatia casts Commune With The City to see if TK has been around and she’s not there now but she can tell she has been (though there’s no indication on if that’s recently or not). On a 17 religion check she knows that there is a dwarven holy site in the mountains that matches Sam’s description from the mirror. She’s still avoiding her dad but when she prays for her spells, she asks for her dad to feel like himself again too. 

Hey, what time is it? Let me check my watch. 

Ah yes, it’s time for Sam to make some rash decisions. 

She feels like she should text Zelda but doesn’t. Instead, she goes into Penelope’s room. And she takes out her mirror. And even though she’s expended the charge for today, she tries to make it show her Penelope. 

OK, says Brennan. Sure. Hey, can you roll me a quick little Wisdom Save?

5. 

Haha, Sam’s in danger. 

The mirror heats up as it’s pushed beyond its limits and Sam sees an image of a young Penelope with braces grabbing her hands and grinning and saying that they’ll be best friends. Then, the image shifts and she sees the Penelope of the present in her tattered prom queen dress and glass shard crown. Her eyeless, haunting, demon prom queen form, teeth razor sharp as her words. 

“A call without a text,” she says. “Are you out of your mind?”

“You look better than you ever did alive,” Sam spits back. 

It is a battle of the bitches right out of the gate. The girls are fighting part two if you will. They snipe at each other for a bit and Brennan has Sam roll insight into herself. On a 19, Sephie says that’s not enough for Sam to get a read on herself (yikes girl) so she doesn’t understand that this fight can only ruin her because while Penelope enjoys causing people pain, Sam doesn’t. 

They both get in some very choice barbs but when Penelope tries to entice her into making a devilish pact and disparages her new party, Sam does the mic drop of the century by telling her that her parents are divorcing and hanging up. The entire table LOSES THEIR MIND. It is like a real life representation of one of those Draw The Squad memes. Everyone brandishes their fans in a salute to that truly epic conversation ender. 

As the night draws to a close, Brennan asks the girls who haven’t responded to the text chain yet if they respond. Katja texts that she’s in. Zelda texts Antiope and Penny that she’s not going to text whether she’s in or out until they respond because she doesn’t want it to feel like a 5 on 2 dogpile.

Antiope and Penny call then text, then call, then text, then call each other to discuss what they should do and also hype each other up because with all the drama, they didn’t really get to celebrate their opportunities. Penny tries to downplay her thing and insinuates that it wouldn’t be a big loss if she wasn’t in the group anymore and Antiope shuts that down immediately. You’re the last thing so many people see before they die Penny! That’s so cool! 

They both decide to text that they’re abstaining from voting for now and go to bed.

The next day, Antiope gets up and sees that her party’s schedule has been cleared for the next two weeks by the school for quest reasons. She tells her dad she wants to talk to Charity Blythe (the woman at the Ministry of Adventure she needs to talk do) and he sets up a no pressure (but actually tons of pressure) meeting with her before turning her 5 mile run into a 12 mile run because she is a Jones and 5 mile runs are for Amateurs. 

Ant texts the rest of the Maidens that this meeting is happening so they can maybe get some quest info from Charity and Ostentatia has in the meantime texted (after the 2 abstains) that she will be going for the GED regardless and anyone who wants to join can. Of course, there was never any reason to NOT go for it (besides the danger which they obv don’t care about) and getting it doesn’t mean any doors are closed to them. It’s just that emotions are running so high they can’t fully seem to see that (or at least some members can’t). 

Ant doesn’t have the clearance to meet at Charity’s office so they meet at the Museum of Adventuring instead. In it happens to be the skeleton of Kalvaxus who they killed (if you don’t remember, the Bad Kids killed him first and then he was resurrected so the Maidens could also kill him for catharsis reasons). Tensions are still super high as evidenced by Sam’s snide abstention comment to Penny and Ant and then by her TRYING TO LIGHTNING BOLT THE DRAGON SKELETON TO DESTROY IT.

GIRL.

That doesn't happen though because she’s Counterspelled by Charity Blythe who walks in, surprised to see that Antiope brought her whole party. Antiope says they were just leaving but Charity can sense shenanigans when she sees them and says if they’re gonna spy on the conversation they might as well stay for it which they of course do.

She gives Antiope a rundown of the internship: 1 year commitment with a possibility to expand to 2-3 years. Stipend. She’d have to live in Bastion City.

Katja remembers that her dad was talking to the Ministry of Adventure in the letters she found and asks Charity about it. Charity says they were asking him about TK’s whereabouts because he was friends with her. On that, Yelle casts Detect Thoughts with a Stealth roll of 17 (we see on a secret Box of Doom roll that Charity got a 26 to see her cast it). Anyway, she sees that TK took some object with her when she disappeared (which she later sees is a crystal screen with a map seemingly marking quest locations from A-F) and of course the fact that Charity knows this. Yelle shares this info with everyone as Antiope walks off with Charity to talk further. Katja suggests to the group that maybe Ant should take the internship to get more info for their quest. While she’s talking to Charity, Ant feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

See looks up and sees a figure with blood red lips look at her and disappear.

Yikes! Combat time baybee!

Superlatives 

Danielle: Most Likely to Talk Her Way Out of a Hostage Situation 

While, like her mothers, I am slightly concerned that Danielle is the type to set fire to herself to make sure others are warm, I also very much love her chill, warm, encouraging vibes. For those of you coming off of MisMag, she is like vibing at the same wavelength as Whitney Jammer but with the intensity turned all the way down. Danielle encouraging Sam honestly gave me like second hand calm. Excellent vibes. 

Random Thoughts

If you’re wondering how long it took for it to come up that Aguefort banged a phoenix, the answer is 12 minutes.

The concept of phoenix chlamydia is the definition of thanks, I hate it. 

Aguefort saying that TK is a crazy person could literally mean anything tbh. It could mean she is the most batshit person on the planet or it could mean she’s totally normal and just kinda bugs him. Literally no way to tell. 

Someone (I think Rekha?) mentioned that the cursed bylaws book is copper and so is TK. Idk if that’s relevant but thought I’d flag it anyway. 

We learn in this episode that the friendship bracelets Penny made them last week let them track each other and see each other even if one of the in knocked out (which is what gives it utility outside of what their crystals can already do).

We learn in this episode that Skullcleaver Elementary School is actually named after Katja’s family. 

Nothing like the fear you feel when a DM gives you what you wanted even on a failure. And on that note...

Sam, I wish you a very happy Please Go To Therapy. Please girl. 

This episode was such an emotional roller coaster. I deeply empathize with the horrible feeling that your friends have stuff going on and you don’t and you’re going to be left behind. It’s so rough to see everyone hurting and lashing out (or in the case of Yelle for instance, trying and failing to diffuse the situation). But it’s so nice to see everyone trying to be there for each other and apologizing and affirming that they love each other (from Antiope saying that she would kill and die for any of them to Danielle defusing the ticking timebomb that is Sam). The players really get the cadence of how teenage girl friendship works and it’s such a treat to watch. 

“Did we ruin your life?”

Do you think ep 7 of The Seven is gonna be when everything pops off? As a DM I wouldn’t be able to resist that.

Penny’s response to being told that she can’t take every path is, “You can with chronomancy” which isn’t a bad point. 

Rekha is the Zac of The Seven which is to say low key the funniest person on the planet. Her saying she was so scared that she wasn’t gonna be told “I love you” during that scene was so funny. Her comic timing is impeccable. 

Katja fainting at the end of the “I love you” session after Penny says she loves her and Cinnamon. 

I love the table ambient whisper of, “LCAB” under Antiope’s scene with Corsica. 

I really felt for Zelda in this episode. Like, I felt for everyone but especially her, being the quiet one with all this yelling happening. When she was talking about how much she hates to have to fight with Sam/O my heart really broke for her. I’m so glad she got all her hugs in after that. 

In this episode Katja, Ostentatia, and Sam roll nat 1s. No nat 20s.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part II

Part I (complete)

Part III (complete)

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Making deals with a vampire was one thing, (Y/N) supposed, but fulfilling such a deal was quite another.

When Zeke— who held the contradictory position of the regional Commander of the Hunters as well as the alpha of a local werewolf pack— had approached her with the idea of infiltrating Eren Jaeger's inner circle, she had jumped at the chance; her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather really had been Jean Kirschtein, and she had read his old journal, and her curiosity about the Old Ways was always bubbling just beneath her skin. Zeke, she thought, must have known of her curiosity, because his offer had been everything she was searching for.

You'll have your answers, he told her, And we'll have ours. One way or another, the problem of Eren Jaeger will be solved through your efforts. There is no possible way to lose.

If only she had known how wrong Zeke had been.

At first, things with Eren were simple— well, as simple as things could be with such a delicate arrangement. It had been beyond easy to bait him into approaching her at the Creature bar on 76th Street, and aside from the first time, allowing time for Eren to feed was almost nothing. Even the process of feeding itself wasn't much of an ordeal— there was hardly any pain since he drew from her wrist after a warm soak, and the whole thing took less than five minutes— but around the second time, when the visions began, things began to be… different.

Little snippets of Eren's past began to come as the two of them interacted more and increased the amount of regular feedings. Sometimes it was as little as a feeling, a memory of a face that (Y/N) had never seen before; other times, it was like (Y/N) was truly there centuries ago, in a land that would one day become her home. Now, almost every time she let Eren drink from her, she was thrust back into a world where humanity was (literally) with it's back against the wall, fighting demons and mindless monsters just to survive; and, sometimes, the visions were so intense that she would come back from them terrified, shaking, and incapable of cogent thought. It was during those times that Eren held her, silent, resigned, and yet somehow caring until she was herself again.

It was strange; in the visions, Eren was often passionate to a fault. He was wild, like an animal, but kind, too. During times like these, when he cradled her in his arms as she was trembling with the force of a particularly poignant memory, (Y/N) wondered if the centuries had truly changed him, or if he hid that passion beneath the jaded indifference she had come to expect.

"You think too much," he told her as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Your heart is racing."

Of course it was— the terror of watching hundreds of people be consumed by the very wrath of hell itself would do that to a person— but (Y/N) had no rebuttal. She did think too much, and the end result was muddled reports sent back to Zeke and a clouded heart.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question. Mikasa— the brave, beautiful woman that Jean Kirschtein had once loved— may not have always known it, but Eren truly had felt very deeply for her.

"More than life," Eren replied.

(Y/N) thought back to the memory— the sheer panic Eren had felt at the thought of losing his comrades, the desperation with which he strove to save them— and she amended her statement.

"You loved them all."

Eren hummed.

"More than the wide, wide world."

And (Y/N) thought that, perhaps, he truly meant it.

"What did you see this time?" he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) pulled back so that she and Eren were face to face, her legs straddling him. His eyes were glowing-green, and she shivered beneath their scrutiny.

"I saw a field full of demons," she told him, unable to meet his gaze. "You and Mikasa were defenseless, yourself having been pushed to your limit, and Mikasa's blades having been broken. There was nowhere to run, and you— you screamed, and—"

A large, warm hand caressed her cheek, and it occurred to (Y/N) that it was her own blood within Eren that gave him such warmth with which to comfort. She placed her smaller hand atop his, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment to allow this brief, intimate interlude.

"Do you understand now?" he asked as he did almost every time she had a vision. "Do you see why I did what I did?"

As always, (Y/N) shook her head, moving his hand from her face.

"No, I don't."

The response was never met with anger or frustration; Eren was only ever resigned to it. Before, (Y/N) might have felt scorn for such a man who cared so little, but now that she had seen who Eren had been, what he'd been through… perhaps he was simply tired of caring so much.

"You're beautiful when you're thinking."

The words caught (Y/N) off guard. She had known that Eren had thought she was attractive— his emotional feedback told her that much— but she had never thought that he would voice such a thought. The compliment heated her cheeks, and (Y/N) had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I've always thought," said Eren, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "That one can never truly appreciate the beauty of a blush until one could see it with the eyes of a vampire, or smell it as it rises on the cheek."

Eren placed a hand on her face, tilting it until their eyes were level.

"And as a vampire who has seen many beautiful blushes on many beautiful women, yours is the most bewitching of all."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly.

"Why are you saying this?"

Eren cocked his head to the side, studying her. It was a long moment before he spoke, but when he did, he gave an answer that (Y/N) was not expecting.

"Because it's true, and because I would very much like to kiss you."

(Y/N)'s heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't dare move one way or the other. She just stared at Eren, slack-jawed, as he stared patiently back.

"Why?" she asked when she had collected herself.

Eren shrugged. "Does that matter?"

(Y/N) supposed very much that it did matter, but she didn't feel the need to say so. She studied Eren closely— the latent hunger in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the stain of her blood on his lips— and she thought of how gentle he had been with her, how patient. She had no doubt that he would prove to be equally so in other matters, and she wanted him— but something stopped her.

It would be wrong of me to allow this, she thought, letting her eyes wander to Eren's lips. I'm his enemy, a spy for the Hunters. Allowing him and myself the potential of intimacy is too deep a betrayal, even for me.

Even so, she didn't stop him as he shifted her closer; even so, when his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back, tasting her own blood on his tongue.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered against his lips, shifting in his lap.

"How young you are," he said in return. "There is no such thing as a bad idea, only poor timing and execution. Take it from someone who has centuries of experience; rarely ever is the regret for having done something greater than the regret of not having done it."

So saying, he kissed her again, and (Y/N) threaded her hands in his hair as he reached beneath her shirt. His hands— warm, now, with the heat of her own blood— reached beneath the cup of her bra to cradle her breasts, and she exhaled a hiss as his fingertips found her nipples. She arched into him, pressing her flesh into his hands and parting their lips; he chuckled, dark and low, and she shivered at the sound.

"How many other Creatures have you tricked like this?" he asked, pressing kisses against her neck. "Tell me, pretty girl— just how many have fallen prey to your charms so that you can run back to your little doggy master with their deepest, darkest secrets?"

(Y/N) froze, stuck somewhere between fear, dread, and ecstasy. Eren knew— somehow, he knew— and yet he continued to touch her, kiss her, caress her as though nothing were amiss. Her whole body went still with shock, but Eren never stopped even for a moment.

"Come now, you can't think I didn't know." His lips were just below her ear now, and he closed his teeth around the lobe, teasing her with the sensation. "I can smell him on the papers in your bag; I can hear the clicking of the letters as you type your memos after I've pieced you back together for an evening. Most of all, I can hear the way your heart pumps a little faster when I feed you the information you want. I can taste your guilt in the very blood I take from you. You can hide nothing from me."

"Eren," she said as fear— rancid and terrible— began crawling up the back of her throat, "Eren, please, I haven't told him about the important things, I'm trying to make a case for you—"

He pulled away then, and when his piercing green eyes locked with her own, she stilled like a sparrow caught in the gaze of a cobra.

"I don't care," he replied simply. "You are what you are, and at your core, you cannot change that. It is the same with me. I'm not afraid of my half-mutt half-brother no matter what you tell him, and as long as you want what I have to offer, there's no reason not to take it for your own."

(Y/N)'s mind was reeling.

"Half-brother?"

Eren chuckled at her confusion.

"Oh yes, pretty one. Zeke Jaeger is my older brother, and I suspect he sent you to me just to you with the both of us." With a carnivorous grin, he added, "But little does he know that I play for keeps, and you're not the good little Huntress he must assume you are— that is to say, he must have no clue at all how hungry you are for vampire cock, hm?"

(Y/N) would be lying if she hadn't pictured Eren in… less than appropriate situations, but for fuck's sake, she wasnt blind. The man— vampire, Creature, whatever— was fucking gorgeous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't mean she was gagging for it.

Did it?

"We can't do this," she said, pushing at Eren's chest, though he didn't budge an inch. "We shouldn't do this."

Eren cracked a grin, toothy with fangs that glistened.

"Says who?" he asked, his large, strong hands coming around to grab her by the ass. "You were perfectly fine with letting me kiss and touch when you thought I was in the dark— is it no longer any fun now that you don't feel like you're taking advantage of me?"

(Y/N) couldn't take it.

"Eren, be serious—"

"I am serious."

When she looked in his eyes and reached out with her own heart, (Y/N) knew that he was telling the truth. He wanted her regardless of anything, regardless of everything.

He simply wanted her.

Could that be so bad?

***

Eren didn't think that this would happen even in his wildest dreams, but when he saw (Y/N) splayed out on his gold silk sheets, he knew it wasn't the madness that Armin accused him of lying to himself about. No mind, well and whole or not, could ever conjure up such a vision. The woman who lay before him— naked and gorgeous— was beyond imagining. She was something from another world entirely.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled as Eren stood over her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. "Come hold me."

And how lovely was that? His natural enemy, his perfect prey, asking him to come hold her, as though his skin on hers was blessed assurance that he was there and wanting.

Maybe Eren was mad— or, perhaps he was dreaming. If he was, he hoped he never came back to himself. A world without this was not a world he ever wanted to return to.

"Yes," she hissed as he crawled atop her, his mouth suckling at her breast. No other creature that walked the earth could ever taste as sweet as her— having tasted many, many before, Eren would know— but even were that to be disproved, Eren wasn't sure he would much care. This woman would be his undoing.

"Touch me," she demanded, canting her hips up to him. "I want to feel you."

How could Eren ever deny her? He brought a hand down to her sex, caressing her there before parting her folds to quest for her clit. Having found it, he drew small, teasing circles, and she whined.

"Am I still a monster to you?" he asked into the hollow of her throat, placing biting kisses there as his hand kept busy with its work. "Still something to hate and abhor?"

"You're still a monster," she replied, so startlingly honest even now, "But I never once hated you. Oh Eren, please, I want you inside me, I—"

Her wish was his command; Eren plunged two fingers into her depths, and (Y/N) gasped at the intrusion. She was so wet already, and so tempting as she squeezed down on those fingers, rocking her hips as he withdrew them just to the tip and repeated the motion. The way she felt around his digits shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but as Eren slid in a third finger, he had to keep himself from letting out a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he told her as she writhed beneath him. "You truly, truly are."

Distantly, Eren wondered what Jean would think if he were alive to know who was finger-fucking his great-granddaughter, but when Eren remembered the nasty right hooks the taller man used to give him when he was being a shit, he figured that he would rather not know. Still, as he watched (Y/N) come undone on the tip of his fingers, he couldn't help but think that perhaps it was something of Jean's spirit— the part that even Eren had to admit was better, kinder, more human than most— that drew him to her.

"I want you," he said, withdrawing his hands and licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Do you feel ready enough?"

And then, as though to prove his point, (Y/N) sat straight up with the cutest little Jean-like scowl he had ever seen and pushed at his chest with no small amount of force. He went with the motion, and he found himself being mounted by her as she said,

"I'm not made of glass— if you can't wrap your head around that, I'll have to show you just what I'm capable of."

She did— and how! Powerful thighs— the thighs of a Hunter— levered her up and down on his cock, squeezing him until he thought he might die from it. He thought she was never going to stop impaling herself again and again, and by the time she did eventually tire, Eren was sort of hoping she never would. He was in ecstasy with her, and like the selfish bastard he was, he wanted it to last forever.

"Such fire," he said, reaching up to press kisses into the skin just between her breasts. "You've made your point, now let me take over."

Let me take care of you.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as he thrust up into her, the head of his cock buried so deeply within her that he marveled at how she didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. "Oh fuck, right there, please don't stop—"

Eren didn't stop; he couldn't. He was beyond restraint.

"May I?" He asked, tapping the wrist that was trapped in his right hand. "I won't take much, but I want to show you something."

Delirious, drunk with lust, (Y/N) nodded, and Eren pierced her skin with a single fang, letting a drop of blood fall onto his tongue. In that moment, as they connected physically, her blood connected them spiritually, and Eren groaned as he physically felt how close she was through the link he had created.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, and Eren buried himself as deeply as he could within her as he came. "Oh, oh, oh—"

And then (Y/N) was following him, shaking and gasping as her orgasm overtook her. It seemed that the world had stopped existing for a moment, and Eren found it hard to breathe even though he had no particular need to do so at all.

In the afterglow, they clung to each other like the survivors of a shipwreck; when the world began to exist again, it felt new, and as Eren closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that this changed everything.

I must keep her, he thought as sleep overtook him. I don't know if I could feel like this ever again for anyone else.

[lochsides]

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power Review

Where do I even begin with 'If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power'? It is such a good album, it's almost criminal. If I had to pick the best album to be released this year, IICHLIWP would be it. Halsey has always been an excellent songwriter, that was never even in question, but it has been proved once again, in case anyone wasn't paying attention. IICHLIWP is an album that covers so much depth in sound and in lyric. The dichotomy of the Madonna and the Whore, as they said in their announcement of the album, is an overarching theme of IICHLIWP and it is articulated so consummately. The references to pregnancies and childbirth are more subtle than I expected but that's what makes them so genius. This is an album where every lyric is intentional.

My favourite songs are ‘The Tradition’, 'Bells in Santa Fe', '1121' and 'Ya'aburnee'. More detailed thoughts on each track are below the cut. Trigger warnings for sexual assault and miscarriages.

The Tradition — This is the first song on the album and Halsey had already fucked me up so there's that. I got full-body chills listening to 'The Tradition'. The production is masterful. There is this darkness that settles in early and ebbs and flows beautifully, not only throughout the song but the album as a whole. 'The Tradition' already sets up so many of themes of this album, but what a way to talk about sexual assault. I am in love with the entire chorus line but I think my favourite lyric is ‘she got the life she wanted but now all she does is cry.’

Bells in Santa Fe — The transition from 'The Tradition' into 'Bells in Santa Fe' was so smooth I didn't even notice that the songs had changed until I looked at my screen. I don't think I could actually describe how much I adore this song if I took up the rest of my life doing so. The production is absolutely God-tier. Everything from the way it keeps building throughout the song to the percussion to the piano on the second chorus and the distortion towards the end is so perfectly done. You will never hear me rave about production this much. What a fucking song! On top of all that, you have the lyrics that are so powerful. When they said 'cause who the fuck would chose this?' it reminded me of my favourite Manicsong, 'Forever... is a long' where they sing 'how could somebody ever love me?' so that stood out to me. I love the cadence on 'secondhand thread in a secondhand bed with a second man's head' but the lyric 'better off dead so I reckon I'm headed to Hell instead' is probably the one that hits the hardest. My escapist, runaway tendencies felt very exposed by the entirety of the pre-chorus.

Easier than Lying — The way she emotes on ‘you lair, you don’t love me’ is fucking everything. I needed to start with that. It’s my favourite aspect of the whole song. And then there is that obvious callback in the bridge. ‘Easier than Lying’ is the punk sound we were promised of IICHLIWP and they delivered. The Grungy electric guitar, the bass, the production!!! This one goes hard and it makes no apologies of it’s anger.

Lilith — ‘I’m disruptive, I’ve been corrupted, and by now I don’t need a fucking introduction.’ I mean what could I possibly say after that??! Honestly, I love the duality of how this line could be about Halsey but it could also be about Lilith, herself. There is a selfishness to 'Lilith' that I love. When you connect that to the mythology of Lilith preying on pregnant women and the context of this album — it's just got so many layers. Halsey's mind!! I love the sound of this song. The production has a classic rock flare to it. Those drums are so clean and the bass accompanies it perfectly. The smoothness of their vocal on this track is very pleasing to listen to.

Girl is a Gun — I'm not going to lie, this song isn't for me. I get it. The message is right up my street but the overall sound of it just isn't what I personally like. I do love their little laugh at the start! The lyric 'it's a shot in the dark, I'm not a walk in the park, I come loaded with the safety switched off' is my favourite.

You asked for this — This song is really interesting because they gave us a pop punk sound, pushed it to the back of the track, really grungey guitar riffs and all, but their voice is so light and delicate almost, very airy in a way that stands apart from the backing track. I really like it. To me, it's like an emphasis of the message of 'You asked for this'. Young women are oftentimes forced to grow up too soon and 'be a big girl.' Society forgets, I would even say purposely overlooks, that they are 'still somebody's daughter,' one of the few things that is used to give value to a woman. We've all heard people throw the phrase "but what if it was your daughter/sister?" into the conversation when discussing women that have somehow been abused by the patriarchy. 'You asked for this' also calls attention to how when we're younger, all we want is to be grown up but how unaware we can be of what it means to be a woman in this world, the trauma that comes with it.

Darling — The guitar in this song and it’s almost-country sound are what sets this song apart from the rest of the album. ‘Darling’ is a lullaby for their child, but it tells a story of their struggles. It is honest in a way that feels private. Motherhood sounds so good on them!! This song is just a collection of things I love in music. 'Darling' is soothing and it sounds like comfort, in both melody and lyric. 'Foolish men have tried but only you have shown me how to love being alive' is perhaps the softest lyric on the whole album.

1121 — I expelled a heavy sigh when I heard ‘1121’ it absolutely took my breath away*.* This song is a truly moving ode to an unborn child. So many people talk about how they had never known what unconditional love really meant until they had a child. Halsey tells it as such: ‘you could have my heart and I would break it for you.’ I love their vocal styling on this song so much, going between their lower register and those beautiful falsettos in the chorus. The overlapping on the bridge of ‘please don’t leave, don’t leave me in the shape you left me’ and ‘I’m running out of time to tell you, I’m running out of things that I regret’ and ‘you’d never, you told me’ really capture all the wide array of emotions felt by pregnant person upon finding out they are pregnant when they’ve dealt with miscarriage. Her voice emotes the fear of losing another child, the regret of the ones she's already lost, the promise, almost desperate, of the opportunity they have right now. All of these feelings are brought to life further by the production of the song. There is so much depth in '1121'.

honey — Pop punk wlw anthem check. Halsey suits this sound so much. This track, the production, the instrumentation, all of it catered to their voice so perfectly. The sound is so refreshing and yet so classic. I adore the melody. It’s unsuspectingly catchy. I wonder if there are links to ‘Lilith’ with ‘she’s mean and she’s mine’ or if I’m just reaching. Either way, a song about a love that is a little chaotic and wild, sign me up!

Whispers — Whispering on a song called 'Whispers' might be obvious but I'm a basic bitch so leave me alone, I loved it. Lyrically, 'Whispers' was the song that I saw myself in the most. When she said 'camouflage so I can feed the lie that I'm composed,' I just felt far too exposed for comfort. Same thing with 'I do not know me.' And that's what art is supposed to do. The instrumental is haunting and dark. The way they create tension by adding in one instrument at a time. The production is amazing. Top 5 shit right here!

I am not a woman, I'm a god — Not only does this song have the catchiest hook, it’s literally ‘I am not a woman, I’m a god. I am not a martyr, I’m a problem. I am not a legend, I’m a fraud so keep your heart ‘cause I already got one.’ That hook right there tells you everything you need to know about this song. ‘I am not a woman, I’m a god’ acknowledges that one needs not be a woman to create life. They are claiming power to their gender identity through relation to Godliness. Even in the other lyrics, they talk about being ‘a different human in a new place’ or ‘a better human with a new name’ (this line in particular draws direct parallels to trans experiences). Both times, they specifically use ‘human.’ The production of this song is designed to be a single. It’s got the signature darkness of this album, tells the listener where Halsey is at sonically, and it’s a total banger.

The Lighthouse — The way this song just comes in swinging right away with the distortion and the heavy guitars is exactly what I expected from this album going into it for the first time. Very modern punk rock. And the lyric doesn't pull any punches either. 'From a tender age I was cursed with rage,' like c'mon!! I love the melody and her vocal inflations throughout the song. This is the longest song on the album but it doesn't drag. The change up right before the outro really helps with that. I find that outro so interesting. The contrast between the instrumental constantly building but their voices staying so far in the back on the track creates so much tension that is relieved in the best way possible with 'Ya'aburnee'.

Ya'aburnee — ‘Ya’aburnee’ is the perfect conclusion to this album. Halsey said in their Apple Music interview that IICHLIWP is about the power to choose and by the end of the album you realise that they choose love. This song perfectly embodies that. It’s familial. The entire chorus talks of seeing yourself in your kin and the circle of life. The second verse is a clear love letter to their partner and it makes me emotional, knowing their romantic history as we do, to hear them sing ‘wrap me in a wedding ring.’ I love how the lyric ‘you will bury me before I bury you’ is not only a statement of their hopes that they don’t have to live in a world without their loved ones, a statement of how parents should never have to bury their children, but it almost sounds like a protective promise that they will do anything to ensure their loved ones are kept from harm so as not to need burial. The softness of the instrumental on ‘Ya’aburnee’ is feels like unwinding from the rest of the record. It’s such a beautiful song.

[thisissirius]

reshape the foundation eddie/buck, eddie diaz week day one: fatherhood (I have no idea what i’m doing.) Post-tsunami, no lawsuit, buck protecting eddie who just wants to be a good dad <3

Eddie picks up the phone, hates himself a little for the weakness, but he can’t think of anything else to do. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, sounding sleepy but happy. 

Guilt rolling in his stomach, Eddie blurts out, “can you come over?”

Immediately, he hears rustling. “Of course. Are you okay? Is Chris—”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Eddie says, voice barely above a whisper. 

The movements on the other end of the phone don’t stop, but Buck’s voice is a little softer. “About Chris?”

Eddie’s glad he doesn’t have to explain. Somehow, Buck always seems to know what he’s trying to say even when he can’t put thoughts to words. “He’s having nightmares and I don’t know how to help him.”

“I know,” Buck says gently. “You need to put him on the phone or can you wait until I get there?”

“I can wait,” Eddie says, leaning his forehead against the wall. “Please.”

Buck’s breath hitches and Eddie doesn’t wanna know what he’s thinking. “I’ll be there soon.”

Hanging up the phone, Eddie breathes in, out, in, out. He concentrates on trying to breathe, focusing on the sounds of Chris sleeping on the other side of the wall, doesn’t want to fall apart when he’s on his own. Not that he wants to fall apart with somebody else, but Buck—

Buck won’t judge him. Will he?

Eddie’s out of options. He doesn’t want to do this alone. The anger is threatening to swallow everything up, and Chris is devastated, and needs his dad to be strong when Eddie barely feels the threads of his sanity holding together. 

There’s the sound of a voice from the other room, but there’s not enough time for Eddie to pull away from the wall before Buck’s rounding the corner. He’s barefoot—kicked off his sneakers at the door because that’s the way Eddie likes it—and stupidly, it’s that small act that has Eddie heaving out a sob. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, sounding wrecked. He’s got a hand on Eddie’s elbow, tugs him round.

Whatever hold Eddie’s got on his emotions shatters and twists away from him. He gasps in a breath as Buck holds him close, presses Eddie’s forehead to his neck. Eddie’s breathing is shaky, sobbing out words, nothing he can make sense of himself. Buck’s hand is a steady pressure on the back of his head, lips pressed to his temple. Eddie shakes apart, fisting a hand in the back of Buck’s shirt. 

There’s self-hatred and anger bursting in Eddie’s chest, but Buck tightens his grip before Eddie can pull away. 

“Asking for help isn’t a weakness, Eddie.”

The words should piss him off, but Eddie thinks about Chris, about how lonely he is. “I can’t help him.”

Buck breathes out slowly. “You can. Not knowing isn’t the same as not being able to.”

“I know that,” Eddie bites out. 

They pull apart and Eddie swipes at his face. He stumbles towards the door to Chris’ room, and he peers inside. Chris is finally in a calm sleep, curled up under the sheets, and Eddie feels like he can breathe. 

A tsunami. Loses his mom and then gets caught in a tsunami? There isn’t even anyone Eddie can be mad at. Oh, he’s not proud to admit he tried to be mad at Buck. Hates himself for that, because how can he be mad at Buck when Buck’s the only other person on the planet who might love Chris as much as Eddie. 

Who does love Chris as much as Eddie. 

Eddie heads for his own room, knows Buck will follow. “I know you tried to protect him,” he says, not looking over his shoulder. He doesn’t think he can get the words out if he does. “I know you’ve got your own shit to deal with because of Bobby and the department but I can’t—”

The words don’t come. 

Buck’s standing on the other side of the bed, staring at Eddie. Eddie meets his eyes, clenching his hands into fists because he doesn’t know what his emotions are doing. “You’re important too.”

Eddie closes his eyes. There’s the sound of soft footsteps on the carpet, Buck’s breath, and then fingers against his arm, sliding up to his neck. Eddie finally looks at Buck, who’s so patient, so gentle with his touches that it almost makes Eddie want to shatter. 

“You’re important too.”

“Chris needs me to be—”

“Chris is just happy to have his dad,” Buck stressed. “That kid loves you to death, Eddie. You’ve done a great job.”

Eddie can’t hear this. “Don’t.”

“I will,” Buck says, and the steel in his tone brings Eddie’s head up. “What was it you said to me? You love him enough to never stop trying.”

The words batter against the self-doubt and Eddie feels adrift. He twists a hand into Buck’s shirt again, swallows, and drops his head. “Buck.”

“Eddie,” Buck says softly. His fingers stroke down the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb against Eddie’s pulse point. Eddie wonders if he can feel it racing, if Buck can see the turmoil raging through Eddie like a beacon. “Don’t underestimate how much love can impact a kid, how much it can keep them adrift even when they’re falling apart.”

“I want to be able to help him,” Eddie admits in a whisper. 

Buck nods, tugs gently and Eddie goes, forehead to Buck’s neck. Buck strokes the back of his hair and it’s soothing. Eddie’s not touch-starved. Chris touches him all the time. Carla’s tactile, and even his time with Shannon had been intimate. But Buck—the kind of intimacy with Buck leaves him yearning for more and he’s not ready to address that yet. 

Not that he could tear himself away from Buck’s pull if he wanted to, and he really doesn’t want to. 

“I know you do,” Buck says. “And you are. You might not think so,” he continues at Eddie’s protesting noise, “but you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says abruptly. He tries to pull away, but Buck’s pressure is insistent. He gives, breathing out, tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Chris wasn’t the only one in the tsunami.”

Buck huffs out a breath. “You can help me out with my nightmares another night.” Eddie frowns, wants to say something to that, but Buck whispers, “sorry, that’s not funny.”

“I will,” Eddie promises, needs Buck to hear them. 

“You will,” Buck agrees. “But for now, I wanna help you. Will you let me?”

It’s on the tip of Eddie’s tongue to say no, that he doesn’t need the help, but Buck’s here. He’s in Eddie’s house, in the middle of the night, because Eddie asked. Because it’s Chris, because it’s Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that kind of loyalty, with that kind of love. 

Pulling back to look Buck in the eye, Eddie swallows down the words. 

“Eddie,” Buck presses gently. “I won’t if you don’t want it.”

“I do,” Eddie admits quietly, feeling something in him give at the confession. “I need your help, Buck.”

Buck nods, lips lifting into a small smile. “You have it. Whenever you need it.”

“But your stuff—”

“Eddie,” the frustration is obvious in Buck’s voice, “the station will still be there when I’m ready for it. You and Chris need me.”

Eddie’s chest feels tight, his hands shaking and he nods. 

“Come on,” Buck says, when it’s obvious Eddie doesn’t have the words. “Let’s try and get some sleep. In the morning, we’ll make pancakes, and we’ll call some people for Chris, alright?”

Too exhausted to argue, Eddie nods. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting when they get in bed, but it’s not for Buck to slide a hand over to Eddie’s and clasp it tightly. The last resistance gives and Eddie shifts, presses against Buck’s side. Closing his eyes, he feels Buck pull him closer, bury his face in Eddie’s hair. 

“We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“Okay,” Eddie says quietly. Perhaps they will. Maybe they won’t.

Either way, for the first time since Shannon died, since the tsunami, Eddie feels something solid beneath him and he’s not about to let it go. 

[sundaysundaes]

Iridescent

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader/Female OC | Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst | NC-17 | Soulmate AU, Childhood-Friends-Become-Lovers AU

An epilogue to Monochrome. Contains HEAVY SPOILERS, so please read Monochrome and Spectra before you read this.

Summary: Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

Broken bones can be mended and bruises may vanish over time, but what befell Lee Donghyuck after the accident was deeper than fractures and scars. It took him five days to wake up from his comatose sleep, eight months for his body to fully recuperate, and another ten months in rehabilitation to overcome his trauma and mental state. But even then, he was never the same. He would never be the same.

As he could never be able to see the light again.

“Vision loss may strike as a devastating injury that could change your life,” his doctor once said during his regular check-up, “But it doesn’t mean that your life has ended, nor should you stop living. There’s still a beautiful world out there waiting for you. It may feel hard today or tomorrow, but you will get through this. You will get better.”

But to Donghyuck, they sounded like a string of murmurs as if the older man was drowning but still trying to mouth the words to him. Or maybe he was the one who was drowning instead, with no chance to resurface. And he didn’t mind, not at all. He wasn’t sure he had the will to do it anyway.

A gentle caress of warm fingertips and a voice as smooth as a lullaby to a child’s ears were the only ones who kept him sane. She was there, from the very first day he’d opened his eyes and seen nothing, and she continued to stay, no matter how much he’d cried in agony or screamed from bottled-up anger. She would hug him when the thought of hurting himself became too much to bear, and she would tell him over and over again, how lucky she was to have him alive and breathing in her arms. And she would still call him in the same way—Haechannie, Haechannie—between loving words that were filled with nothing but honesty, even if he no longer shone as bright as the sun.

She was the sole reason why he continued living, though not truly alive. The only one who gave comfort to his shattered heart and soul. To him, there would be no life without her.

On the day he was discharged from the hospital, dressed in his favorite white tee and a knitted navy-blue sweater she often borrowed to wear around her figure, his chocolate brown hair was long and untrimmed, nearly brushing against his collar. His skin was starting to lose its beautiful tan, and his collar bones were protruding from how much he had lost weight during his recovery. His matching dark eyes were  slightly opened and they shone in a soft glow under the sun, but they were as lifeless as the waves before the storm.

But to her, he was still a sight to behold.

Pushing his bangs out of his eyes with her fingertips, she smiled. “I haven’t seen you standing under the sun for a long time,” she said, mesmerized by the way his hair was fluttering under the wind. “My Haechannie is so pretty.”

He responded by kissing her inner palm and they hugged once before she accompanied him walking down the stairs.

“One step at a time, okay, Haechannie?” 

Her voice was always warm, always filled with the passion of life, as if she was trying hard to be happy for his sake as well. And it made him feel various emotions at once, from the elation of having someone as patient and loving as her nurture him back to health, from agony for being the one who always caused her trouble, and from fear of losing her if one day she woke up and decided to not love him again.

“Don’t let go of my hand. I’m here with you, Haechannie. I always will be.” 

Her promise found its way to his heart, and instead of making him feel drowned like anybody else, she was the one who pulled him out of the water.

“I won’t,” Donghyuck said, tattered voice escaping chapped lips. “As long as you’d let me.”

He couldn’t see her smile, but he could somehow sense it in the way she let out her breath, in the way she squeezed his hand, in every time she spoke his name.

“I got permission from your parents to take you somewhere today before we head back home,” she mentioned before a small, excited giggle tumbled down her lips. He was sitting in what he supposed to be his father’s car by the smell of it, and he let himself stay in silence as she dragged a seatbelt forward and tied it around his body with a click. “I hope you don’t mind taking a walk because I’ve been dying to go on a date with my boyfriend.” He could hear her placing her seatbelt and the sound of dangling keys. The car engine soon started with a stutter and Donghyuck’s fingers immediately tried to find reassurance by sinking their nails into the edge of his seat, his heart ramming against his ribcages.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She hastily laced their fingers together, stealing his shivers away with how firm she held on to his hand. “Breathe, Haechannie. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you, do you hear me?”

It reminded him of their old days when she tried to protect him with a plastic sword from the monster that hid under his bed. She still had the same effects on him as to how she did back then, clouding his entire mind with the feeling of safety and assurance.

He followed her guidance and tried to smile even when his throat felt like burning and his heart trying to find its way to leap out of his chest. “I’ll—” he swallowed when an inevitable crack appeared in his voice. “I’ll be fine.”

There was a pause and he desperately wanted to see what kind of expression she had on her face, but the thought went away when he felt a pair of lips meeting his in a soft, chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding somewhat shy when she parted away but close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. “I know you’re shaking in fear and a kiss would probably be the last thing you wanted right now, but…” She brushed her thumb along his lower lip, yearning for him. “I really miss you.” 

 Given the situation, perhaps it wasn’t the right thing to do but to him, it was exactly what he needed. She made him feel wanted, made him feel like his existence did matter to her more than just as a burden. So Donghyuck blindly reached out to her, searching for her hands, her face, her everything, and she met him halfway, lips melding into his as naturally as breathing.

To her, he still felt the same—just as warm, just as pleasant, just as passionate although his touch felt frail on her skin. Donghyuck was still Donghyuck she remembered, the one who reminded her of the sun, and how his entire presence made her feel joy in the way no one had ever given to her before.

She was devastated when she nearly lost her sun. Countless nights were spent with her crying with her face sinking at the sheet of his hospital bed, just a few moments after he fell into his slumber with lines of tears smearing his cheeks. She had always tried to be strong in front of him and his family, but when she was alone in the dark, listening to his soft breathing as he slept, she would allow herself to break apart, just for a few moments.

Those five days when he was in his comatose state was the  loneliest, most painful time she had to endure in all her years of living. Her fingers were desperately squeezing his just to feel a slight movement and she had called and called and called but he never answered. Her life was suddenly as dark as the night, where the moon had crumbled to dust with stars transforming into black holes.

So when he finally opened his eyes, her name escaping his lips, she felt like she was being reborn, finding back her purpose in life and there would be no way, no matter how hard it would be for them, for her to let go of her sun again.

“I love you,” she whispered between kisses, finding her way back to his lips with a sense of urgency every time, “I love you, Haechannie.” Fingers curling against his soft locks, lips moving from his mouth, nose, temple, cheek, before they went back to the start with shy tongues darting only to take a hint of how they other tasted. “Don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

It was he who should’ve spoken those words. It was he who should’ve begged her to stay. So knowing that she felt the same way, Donghyuck whimpered against her mouth, lifeless eyes began to spark in the way they used to.

***

He didn’t know where she was taking him away but by the briny scent that traveled the air, he muttered his guess, “Are we going to the beach?”

“Correct. Any idea which one?”

“The… The one where we spent our summer vacation?”

“Try being more specific.”

He curled his fingers, flush bloomed on his cheeks. “The one where I confessed my feelings for you for the first time?”

A soft chuckle. “That’s right. The one where you made my heart flutter, as promised.”

“I didn’t know I succeeded at that time.”

“You’ve always won against me, Haechannie. Even if I did win at something, it was only because you’d let me.”

The trip was a three-hour drive from the hospital, and they filled the silence by recalling their memories or humming songs to whatever the radio was playing. She begged him to sing, but he was only brave enough to do it after the fifth time she’d tried, and although he hated the croaky sound he made from his throat, she squeezed his thigh, saying, “Thank you for making me so happy.” He wasn’t sure what she was referring to—was it his voice or his entire existence?—but he realized he didn’t care, as long as he could fulfill his sole purpose of living.

The evening sun was warm on his face when she opened the car door and guided him to step forward into the sand, his sneakers sinking slightly into it under his weight. “Careful,” she reminded, circling one hand around his waist as he shakily wrapped his around her shoulder. “Can you smell the air?”

He could smell the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “Yeah. Salty.”

She quietly laughed. “Do you want to get closer to the water?”

“I’m…” The thought of him not wanting to trouble her was heavier than his desire. “I’m fine here.”

There was a pause, which made him ponder whether he said something wrong but then she huffed loudly. “You’re no fun. Well, we’re going to get, at least, our feet wet, whether you like it or not. So come on, keep up with me, slowpoke.”

Hearing that coming from a girl who didn’t even want to get sand on her shorts was something that made his entire body feel warm, and the sun had no part in it.

She helped him untie his sneakers, rolled up his jeans to his knees before she pushed him slowly into the water. He could feel the waves meeting his skin, could imagine how it would look like—the sand being carried away by the pressure of the water, his feet sinking a little deeper into the ground, perhaps a strand of seaweed catching around his bare toe.

“The sun is setting,” she said and he could somehow hear the grin in her voice. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“I guess.” He felt her wrapping her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna take you dancing.” Her smile was sheepish, her cheeks reddening almost the same color as the glow that illuminated her features. “Oh, wait. I forgot the music.”

“Noona—”

“Just a sec.” She held up a finger to his lips as she fiddled with her phone with her other hand. “Where’s that song you—oh, here it is.”

Donghyuck could hear the song—the exact same song he’d played back then when he’d asked her to do the same thing under the starry sky. “You’re right,” he murmured with a weak smile, as she tucked her phone back into her coat’s pocket. “I should’ve picked a better song. Thinking Out Loud is way too overrated.”

“It’s okay, it’s been growing on me these days. Been using it as my alarm even.” 

Her giggle was adorable and gleeful while his was soft, almost inaudible. “Is that so…”

She caressed his face, eyes becoming tender when she noticed him leaning more to her touch. “I’ve missed hearing you laugh.”

Donghyuck’s breath hitched a little so he stayed in reticence. The sound of the wind and the crashing waves were louder than her speaker, so she urged him to sing, knowing that he already remembered the song by heart. He disinclined at first but he grew soft at her pleading.

As he began to hum along the first chorus, she stroke the skin on his nape soothingly with her fingertips. “Have I told you about the day when I realized I loved you?”

He smiled, another flashback hitting him like the soft waves around his feet. “Enlighten me, please.”

“There were two different times, actually.” She leaned closer, swaying their bodies side-to-side ever so slightly. “The first time I realized I felt something for you was back when we were still in junior high. An asshole in my class stole my sketchbook and you got into a fight to retrieve it back—even though you said you got your bruises from tripping down the stairs. I felt so happy knowing that there was someone out there who cared a lot about me.”

“I did trip down the stairs, actually.”

“Of course, you did.” But like the old days, she saw right through his lies. “The second time was when we were celebrating your birthday. I wore this yellow dress that looked way too tacky for the occasion and people were looking at me weird. And you stayed by my side, ignoring everybody in the house even though it was your birthday, and you told me that I was the prettiest girl in the room.”

He hummed in agreement. “Prettier than me even.” 

“That’s right.” She snickered but her tone gradually turned into something more sincere. “So when I told you that you were my first love, I wasn’t lying nor was I exaggerating. I’ve loved you just as long as you have, I just wasn’t brave enough to admit it unlike you. And I still regret that, even to this day. We wasted so many days, and I hurt you so many times—”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, his closed eyes somehow began to feel hot. “It’s in the past.”

She broke down into another smile, fingers reaching out to swat his bangs away from his face. “You’re right. We still have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

When he suddenly became mute, it made her heart thump faster in anxiety. But Donghyuck soon tugged her closer into his chest, his arms enveloping her entire figure and she sighed in relief as he laid his chin on top of her head.

“What are you wearing?” He asked, his lips brushing against her hair.

“Only in my skimpy bra and g-string, lover.”

“No, I’m serious.” He could feel his laugh reverberating from his chest and it still felt unfamiliar after all this time. “Describe it to me in detail. I want to imagine the scenery.”

She was smiling but her eyes grew softer. “I’m wearing that red dress you said you loved.”

“O-oh…” He wetted his lips. “I didn’t realize that since you’re wearing—what is it, a coat?—“ She confirmed with a nod. “Right. What else?”

“My hair is untied, but I’ve cut it short since it became a nuisance whenever I have to go to work early and don’t have time to style my hair.”

“How short?”

“Short enough to show the necklace you gave me.”

His heart was loud in his ears, almost deafening. “You’re still wearing that?”

“Yes.” He could sense her moving away, sliding her hand down his arm in a silky-smooth touch before she intertwined their fingers. “Along with something else.”

“Wha—” He felt her guiding his fingers to trace hers and the second he touched it, it felt like his world was turning upside-down. “You’re wearing… a ring…” whether it was a question or a statement, he wasn’t clear himself.

“Yes,” she gently replied, moving even closer. “Want to guess what ring it is?”

His heart was in his throat. “Please don’t…” he shook his head, taking a step back. “Please don’t say it’s the engagement ring I was about to give you.”

But she didn’t need to answer, because what else could it be?

She reached out for him but he slapped her hand away when it reached his sleeve. “Haechannie—”

Donghyuck tripped on his feet, falling to his knees and felt the ocean swallowing him inch-by-inch, seawater seeping into his clothes. His face was nowhere near the water and yet he was gasping frantically for air, his chest suffocating and sending jolts of pain to his entire body. 

He could hear her shouting his name in concern, could tell the panic in her voice, but how could he comfort her when he couldn’t even help himself?

The world was swirling in his head even when he could only perceive the darkness with his eyes. His stomach lurched as he coughed multiple times, throat burning in flames.

“Oh God, okay, you’re having a panic attack,” she sounded breathy, afraid, as she clutched her hands around his shoulders. “Breathe with me. Haechannie, focus, I need you to breathe.”

He had a hand on his chest while his other one was sinking deep in the sand. The memory of the accident—how it ruined everything he had planned for her, for himself, and the future they were about to face together—and knowing how useless he had become, to simply reduce himself into nothing but a burden who couldn’t even pass through a door without help, made him feel like his world was ending.

She pulled him into an embrace, sinking his face into the crook of her neck—a habit he once grew fond of—and whispered his name over and over again until it sounded like a prayer, steadying his heartbeat little by little with every second passing by. She only hugged him even tighter when he managed to calm his breathing. “You’re okay,” she exhaled in relief, “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

He brought his hand to the back of her head, feeling her strands under his fingers and finally noticing how short it was. “You should let me go,” he whispered, voice quivering.

Whether he was talking about her embrace or letting him out of her life, she didn’t care. The answer was the same for both. “No.”

“I’m fine now.”

“Well, I’m not. I want to stay like this.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his sweater. “Let me stay like this.”

He kept still but he no longer answered her hug, letting his arms fell loose on the side of his body. “Why did you wear the ring?”

“Because I want to.” 

It soothed him a little that she answered with those words and not “Because it’s something you wanted to give me and I know how much you want me to wear it.”

He noticed her body shivering as their knees were still buried in the sand, engulfed in seawater. “We should move. It’s getting colder.”

She eventually nodded, helping him up to his feet and went back to their car, immediately turning the heater on before she carried him to the back seat where they settled close next to each other. 

“Are you cold?” She asked, her voice quivering as she took her half-drenched coat off. “Guess it wasn’t a smart idea going back to the beach in autumn, huh?” He didn’t answer, too busy maintaining his composure so he wouldn’t freak out again. “Your clothes are soaked, we should get you changed. I brought some spare with me. Oh, and a blanket too.”

She was doing enough talking for both of them to fill the silence so Donghyuck kept his lips pressed tightly shut and followed her order, lifting his hands so she could pull his sweater over his head. She unbuttoned his shirt, blushing a little when his chest and stomach came into view, reminding her of the times where they spent their days raking nails down each other’s skin, exchanging wanton moans between wet kisses.

When he was left only in his jeans, she unzipped her dress, the clothing falling off her shoulders before she slipped it off her body entirely. Grabbing a blanket from the trunk, she scooted over to his place, wrapping the fabric around both of their bodies. She took his hand in hers, rubbing his cold one with hers over and over until he stopped shivering. “You really are sensitive to cold,” she mumbled to herself, “Warm enough?”

“You should’ve just thrown it away.”

She abruptly stopped moving, hands freezing as they were holding him mid-air. “What?”

“The ring,” he murmured, sliding his hand away from hers and bringing it down to his lap. “It doesn’t have any meaning now, so…”

She took her time to reply, begging herself to stay calm even when the pain was tearing her apart. Her tone was expressively hurt when she finally spoke, “You don’t want to marry me anymore?”

He could feel his jaw tightening. “Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes, just as much as I did on the day you proposed to me for the first time. If not more.”

She answered him fast and firm, without a trace of  hesitation or doubts. But the fear that his thoughts screamed at him echoed louder in his head, reducing her promise to sound nothing more than a whisper being carried by the wind. To him, she seemed like she was about to cry, and perhaps she was, but not because she had doubts about marrying him. She was heartbroken because he appeared like he was forcing her to do something she disgusts, when marrying him had been her wish all along.

If he could see her, he would’ve seen the hurtful look that painted her face. She became mute, averting her focus to her hands that laid frozen on her lap. “Haechannie,” she eventually called, “When I think of you, what do you think comes into my mind?”

A liability. A deadweight. Someone you should abandon to make your life bearable. But he stayed as soundless as the night.

“Do you think I’m doing all of this because I’m forced to do it?” Her voice was soft, but he could sense a hidden rage between her words. “Because I’m obliged to take care of you as your girlfriend—your fiancee?”

“It’s not that, it’s—” He spluttered, turning to look at her although his eyes could only see the darkness. “I just wasn’t sure it’s still the future you want us to have.“ He hesitated, his voice became quiet. “And I’m not sure whether you still want me in this condition—”

“Why are you saying that?” Her voice grew frantic. “That’s really—That’s not—“ She buried her face in her hands, her chest tightening. “I want you—of course, I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Somehow, her affection felt like a stabbing pain from all the self-loathe that bubbled in his chest. “But I’m not the same now.”

“Doesn’t mean that I’ll stop loving—God, Haechannie, why can’t you see that we—”

“That’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? I can’t see!” His voice was resonating loudly, colored with dismay and agony, muting the sound of waves crashing behind them. “I’m fucking blind! I don’t know what kind of face you wear around me these days. I can’t tell whether you’re lying or not when you say these words—”

“I will never lie to you—”

“Yes, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m afraid!” He broke apart, voice filled with quivers as it nearly reduced into short gasps. “I’m afraid of having you look at me like I’m a liability. I’m tired of trying to convince myself that I can be some kind of help to you when I can’t even button my fucking shirt properly. I want to marry you—God, I want to marry you so bad—but what do I have to offer? I can’t function like a normal person, I’ve lost my job, I’m going insane, and I can’t see a damn thing!”

The second he stopped speaking, only the sound of their surroundings could be heard, along with their ragged breathing. Donghyuck brought his face to the side, hiding half of his face behind his shaky fingers, inhaling a few times to control his breathing but failing on each try. 

Her eyes began to water as well but she erased the tears before they could stroll down her face. “I’m not sure if you know this already but,” she said, forcing herself to smile between hot tears. “I know how you’d prepared everything that day. I was shocked when my mother told me that you’d asked for their permission to marry me. I didn’t know you were so serious about this. I was so happy, but even then, I wasn’t as happy as the day you finally woke up, five days after the accident. I was just so relieved that I could see you alive and breathing again—to hold you in my arms, to hear your voice saying my name. I know how devastating this feels to you, losing your vision so suddenly like this, and I know how insensitive I will sound to you but let me just say this.” 

She reached out to him, cupping his cheek with one hand so he could turn his face around. His eyes were tightly shut, but his eyelashes were wet as they rested against his cheeks.  “I don’t care that you’re blind,” she said, rubbing her thumb gently along his cheekbone. “And I don’t care if you can’t walk without hitting walls, or if you can’t make your own coffee or wear your own clothes—what I care about is that we’re both here, together, alive and well, and there is nothing in the world that could change my mind.” When he was about to turn away again, to be swallowed by his emotions, she held his face with both hands, forcing him to bare his soul in front of her eyes. “I’d rather have you in this state or worse, rather than losing you entirely, Haechannie. I need you just as much, if not more. So, if you could just trust me, please.”

Donghyuck laid his palm against the back of her hand. “You’re better off without me, Noona. And it’s not just because of how I am now. Bad things do happen when you ignore the signs and deny your soulmate—you should’ve been with Mark—”

“I don’t care about soulmates.” She was frustrated, he could tell, by the way he was so adamant about this. “Isn’t that what you said to me too back then?”

“I know, but seeing how this happened to me, I—”

“Haechannie,” she called, gripping his hand tightly until his knuckles turned white. “What happened to you is an accident. It has nothing to do with soulmates or fate—people get into accidents, these things happen—”

“Yes, I get that, but what if it’s not? I don’t care if anything happens to me, but I can’t—” He took a sharp intake of breath. “I can’t afford anything happening to you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then do you want to spend your days alone instead of being with me?” Her tone was inscrutable, almost impersonal to his ears. “Be honest.”

Donghyuck bit his lip. “It doesn’t matter what I want—“

“Stop listening to your own thoughts. Listen to mine. Listen to what I’m saying.” Her temple was pressed against his, her breath fanning against his lips. “I need you, Hyuck. And if you’re too afraid to be with me, just like how I used to in the past, then let me fight for this. Let me fight for us the way you used to.” Her lips were so close to him that he could almost feel every syllable with his own. “And before you regret everything as much as I did about us, accept me.”

And just like a twig cracking under pressure, Donghyuck snapped.

He rushed to close the gap between them, his lips meeting another pair in a searing kiss and she gasped against his mouth, body tumbling backward to the seat with him pressing hotly against her. He finally let himself go, finally caved into his desires, finally devoted himself back to her like how he did in the past.

He was rushing everything, hands desperately clawing against every part of her skin that he could reach, his kiss frenzied. But all of that was a mere distraction so she wouldn’t be able to hear him whimpering against her mouth, lips quivering as he tried to contain his sobs. 

“I love you,” he hastily said, holding her face with one hand as he kissed her fervently. “I’m sorry for hurting you over and over again—” The way he smashed his lips against hers was both bruising and comforting. “I just—I want you to be happy,” he groaned at the back of his throat when she tugged his lower lip between her teeth, “With or without me, I don’t care, as long as you’re happy, I—”

“With you,” she immediately confirmed, yanking against the strands of his hair as she peppered kisses down the column of his neck. “I’m only happy when I’m with you, Haechannie, so—” And she melded their lips together again, tongues sliding against one another, drowning in passion.

It was a mystery to her when Donghyuck said he wasn’t the same. He still felt like flames, burning her skin with his every touch, igniting sparks of fire in her heart with whispers of her name. But even if he was transforming into an entirely different person, she knew she would still dedicate herself to him either way.

There’s no life without you.

What started as a rush of a moment gradually turned into something slow where they began to savor each touch with more affection and less uncontrollable lust. As he needed her guidance, she switched their positions, letting Donghyuck sat with his spine pressed against the seat, the skin on his back sticking uncomfortably against the leather. 

She noticed how he flinched more under her fingertips, sensitive to even a small graze of skin meeting skin. “Are you okay?” She asked, settling on his lap, straps of her bra falling off her shoulders.

He nodded anxiously, tilting his face so she could take the sign and kiss him again and she did, but her touch was paper-thin. “You seem nervous,” she commented, caressing his cheek in concern as he circled his arms around her waist.

“I am,” he admitted, cheeks turning rosy. “I’m going crazy because I can’t see you. I’m afraid that I’d do something wrong and make you feel—”

“Then I’ll let you know,” she assured him, thumb tracing his lower lip. “I’ll say everything if that’s what you want to know, so stop thinking too much.” She leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead before she brushed the tip of her nose against his. “And just… feel me more.”

Donghyuck let her take his hand and exhaled softly when she pressed it against her cheek, shaky fingertips began to trace her jawline, the shape of her lips, her chin, her neck. His eyes were closed but his eyebrows were furrowed deep in concentration, and she would’ve smiled at the sight if his touches weren’t scorching on her skin, enveloping her with sensations she had been longing for months.

His other senses were heightened, noticing her scent better, listening to every gasp, every moan of his name, feeling her veins, her small scars from her childhood days—everything.

“So beautiful,” he praised under his breath but she caught it, sending goosebumps all over her body. “A-are you okay?” He asked, noticing how she fidgeted and shifted her weight. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s just—“ She bit her lip when his fingers ran along the valley of her breasts, stopping when he reached her bra. “It’s been a while since we last—” a moan escaped her lips when he slipped his thumb behind the fabric, calloused skin meeting her sensitive nub. “Haechannie…”

Donghyuck gulped, his ears turning scarlet. Not being able to see the whole thing yet hearing the sounds she made really drove him to the brink of his sanity. “God, I wish I could see you,” he nearly whimpered. “I want to see your face.”

“Do you— ” She shuddered, as he brought his lips to trace every line he made with his fingertips before. “Do you still see me in your dreams?”

He nodded once, cupping her breast and sighing in content when it fit his palm perfectly.

She flinched, pressing her hips down to meet him more, urging him to move even closer. “Present ones?”

“N-not these days,” he moaned against her neck at the needed friction. “I see your past memories more often.”

She had to stop him and push him away for a moment because she couldn’t concentrate with his lips shyly sucking bruises on her sensitive parts. “Then let’s make as many memories as we can,” she said, slightly out of breath. “Maybe you can’t see me now, but you’ll see me in your dreams. Maybe then you’ll realize just how happy I am these days, because of you.”

He parted his lips in realization. He was too consumed by his depressing thoughts that he never tried to look through a new perspective. Even when he had lost his vision, she still managed to paint a spectrum of colors in his mind, in one way or another. As long as he’s with her, his life would never be monochromatic.

So this time, he could truly smile.

“Then…” He brought his hand down, whispering against her ear, “I can see you when we’re doing this too?” He suddenly slipped behind the fabric of her underwear, sliding his finger along her folds and she almost leaped out to her feet, yelping in surprise.

“Haechannie!” Her face was flushed, even going down to her neck and for the first time in what felt like forever, Donghyuck laughed, so airy and so him, making her eyes widen when she realized just how much she’d missed seeing him like this. “Ah, you’re really just—“ but she never finished, already moving her hips against him again, lips meeting in a heated kiss as it became a necessity for both of them to fulfill.

“Marry me,” he said, breathless and desperate as he kissed her shoulder, almost sinking his nails on the sides of her hips from how tight he was holding her. “Please marry me. I want—I need you to be my wife.”

Her eyes were unfocused, just like his were. Hooking her fingers around his silver necklace, she tugged him closer before she mouthed against the mole on his neck, making him moan her name.

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.” She giggled, grabbing him by the chin in preparation for another kiss. “Idiot.”

***

[ask-asexual-crystal-gems]

What's a common thread between ADHD and the asexuality spectrum? The answer might surprise you.

A while back, an ADHD user said in response to my question, “how did mindfulness exercises go?” a single word, “dissociation.”

It was only long after I had replied, that I had to remind myself that people think of dissociation as a scary thing.

I had to remind myself that a psychotherapist I once knew was pretty unorthodox, and gave me perspective on the matter that defused all the mysteriousness and internalized socialized discomfort surrounding it, which is ultimately rooted in both fear of the unknown or unfamiliar, and maybe a little bit of stigma, too.

Naturally, I do not talk about these sorts of things with general people IRL, so newly having a ‘conversation’ online about it did not jostle my awareness of others’ attitudes like it probably should have.

Things like anxiety and ADHD are, let’s say, more “ordinary” neurodivergences. (remember, the word applies to ALL mental illnesses, also, not just traits. Many don't consider most cases of ADHD an 'illness,' nor a lot of presentations of autism)

Those are more "ordinary." They don’t mash that “this is weird” button, so much as simply “this is very unpleasant.”

But dissociation can be the former, and not the latter.

Let me back up and explain that a bit.

People see dissociation as undesirable.

But why is it, you should ask.

Leave aside questions of physical safety. I’m just talking about sitting down somewhere, and there is no risk to you.

In the typical view, it’s not just another operation the brain can do, or an altered mind state, as we discussed it, rather, it is somehow considered a “bad” outcome.

When, ironically, for many forms of mind training, which we’ll put under the umbrella term “meditation” for simplicity’s sake, the end goal is a type of on-command dissociative state.

Whether you are internalizing your attention, externalizing your attention, or just trying to get that danged mind chatter to shut up for once and give you some peace, whichever way you are sliding along that scale, there is always the route open to you to pursue this ultimate peace.

So this person, who was trying out mindfulness?

Think, if you switched all the aircraft cockpit switches to check if everything was lighting up correctly. But instead of being an experienced pilot, you had no idea what would happen once you started testing everything out.

Accidentally withdrawing your physical senses, and seeming to distance your “self” from your body, which experienced practitioners do without batting an eye, (pun intended) would seem like a dysfunction rather than a built-in feature.

Quieting those areas of the brain dedicated to sense perception is quite a lovely experience, when you are educated on it, do it on purpose, and expect it.

Whereas anxiety is almost never a positive experience, unless it’s not really overwhelming or potent, and you’ve 'reframed' it such that it’s exciting, like any other adrenaline junkie bender.

The milder forms of dissociation, termed depersonalization or derealization, that seem to be quite common among asexual people, are also often considered as a negative thing, instead of just the current, value-neutral state of mind, which is trainable.

A much more common and even milder form happens when we sink into routine. Ever had a stretch of weeks on a job where you look back and you feel like you were sort of “automated”? Like you weren’t really present? You’re somehow a little surprised that that much time has passed?

That “time dilation,” accompanied also sometimes by a distorted sense of chronological sequence happens a lot with ADHD people, regardless of circumstances, but most everyone in the populace has experienced it at some point, barring perhaps the super privileged who have never been forced into a literally “mind numbing” job.

Maybe you’ve also experienced the sensation where you get into a car, perhaps when you’re on a familiar route you’ve driven a thousand times, or especially on long road trips, and you seem to zone out and lose time.

The brain is pretty good at conserving energy.

This is what she tells her patients, to calm their sympathetic nervous system. It circumvents that distress, that health-sapping stress response to this ultimately harmless “weird” experience, vastly improving their quality of life:

Dissociation is a continuum- many forms of it are common. Not some super strange thing corralled in a small corner of the sum total of human experience.

“Reframing” these things is essential to attaining incrementally improved mental health.

Clearing away all the internalized judgement, the feelings of wrongness, etc.

Just one more step out of the norm.

Just another neurodivergence.

It is conceptualized as unnerving when it happens suddenly and sharply, though, because it is so different from “ordinary” everyday experience.

The same way one person who hasn’t been around dogs much might react to a large dog barking with fear, and another person standing next to them having the exact same experience, trained and knowledgeable in recognizing true aggression versus excitement or mild warning, would not feel threatened.

Yes, having that particular toggle out of your grasp may be annoying and to those not given this perspective, frightening. (And if other personalities are involved, that gets much more complicated!!) But, consider. One of my mentors said calmly once, that she lost time for, say, 10 or 15 minutes while sitting down quite regularly, and felt very recharged and energized afterwards. It’s not exactly like sleep, because there’s not that head nodding and relaxation of muscles. Almost instantly gone, and instantly aware again, not that feathery transition as happens when drowsing or gradually falling asleep.

I hypothesize to her that this had probably started up because she’s involuntarily dropping into a deep delta or theta brainwave state for a bit, because that’s what she does in ‘brain entrainment’ recordings. (The frequencies are very good for relaxation when you're anxious and have a hard time unwinding yourself, others are good for focus during studying, and are therefore used by ADHD people) Unless she wants to pay some big lab to measure her neuron firing frequency though, there’s no way to tell for sure. The point is, that she directly benefits from this ‘taking a break’ from thinking. She is not bothered in the least by her mind occasionally saying, ‘you know what, I’m overwhelmed right now, gonna switch off for a bit.’ When someone gives their mind this permission to pause from its worries and senses, each the internal and external input, sometimes this is the outcome. It is not a problem to her whatsoever that this toggle occasionally moves of its own accord.

People are afraid of what they don’t understand.

But she understands it.

People are afraid of new experiences.

But to her, it’s old hat. On an MRI, each of the parts of the brain dedicated to the senses dim. Occipital lobe for sight, temporal lobe for hearing, etc.

If I were brushed up on the neuroanatomy of this process better, I could also name the parts dedicated to internal imput that would grow dimmer as she entered that state. Heck, they study this stuff so much, when interviewing meditation practitioners and testing for stuff like blood flow changes as their attention shifts, those images probably already exist.

Dissociation is not a mysterious thing.

It serves a purpose.

It’s your brain’s ‘energy saver’ mode.

Or in some cases, ‘recharge.’

So, to the person who argued that ADHD people should be cautious about using mindfulness? I must ask again, why?

Why would you forgo the benefits? Why would they tell others to do so??

Usually the main reasons dissociation causes problems, that aforementioned therapist says, is that people are overloaded to the point where it happens not when they’re relaxed, and can daydream or drift, but randomly when there’s too much pressure in their lives.

The fear response to it is just like any other overactive fear response or phobia- with time and therapeutic work, they are all resolvable.

/////////

#this post is NOT about dissociative identity disorder #only mentioned it in passing to separate it from the discussion

[taeyongtime]

by chance we meet

genre: blind date!au | fluff 

featuring: NCT’s Doyoung

word count: 3,713 words

a/n: inspired by the aggretsuko episode where retsuko meets her first boyfriend at a singles mixer. also happy late birthday to @chipsandwaffles​ <3

“A mixer?”

Your friend nods eagerly. “Yeah, we’re missing one more for our table of eight, wanna join?”

“Who’s going to this thing?” you frown, not wanting to attend if you weren’t going to know any of the other guests.

“Oh, just some of my boyfriend’s coworkers. Guys and girls alike if you prefer one over the other.”

“I don’t know…” The thought of going out on a Friday night to have dinner with complete strangers didn’t quite sit well despite not needing to wake up early for work the next day. 

“I’m not really in the mood to meet new people right now…”

“Come on, don’t be such a party pooper! See you at seven!”

Without even the chance to object, you watch her go with a heavy sigh. As if the work week hadn’t been tiring enough, now you were metaphorically bound to attend a dinner you didn’t even want to go to. It’ll be easy to play hooky, but recalling the eagerness on your friend’s face when she brought up even the mere mention of a mixer…

Soft. You’d gotten too soft with her and it was time to put your foot down on being roped into any more of her schemes, really.

—

“You’re here!”

Waving a hand, you make your way over to the entrance of the restaurant she’d texted you earlier. A quaint little place not too far from your office, the wooden sign overhead boasts of soju and all-you-can-eat meats amid the chilly wind and darkened sky outside the establishment.

“Actually, I…”

“This way, they’re already inside!”

Again losing the chance to wiggle out of socializing, you finally relinquish yourself to the arm offered and pull open the door to let yourselves inside. The host quickly leads you to the reserved table and you see that there were already two girls and three other guys seated around an already-heated up grill. Recognizing no one, you sit at the seat saved for you and make small talk with the girl next to you, exchanging names and inquiring on where she worked before reaching a halt at any new topics to further the conversation.

“Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

Getting up from your chair, you hurriedly look for the restroom and eventually find the little door at the very back, only to twist the doorknob without much luck in prying it open. Not hearing any sounds either, you knock twice and nearly fall when the door abruptly swings open and narrowly avoids hitting you in the face. Steadying yourself in the nick of time, you cast a glare at the guy who had just exited, mouth dropping in disbelief when he barely even acknowledges you and walks straight down the hallway. 

Unbelievable. The audacity.

Mood now sour, you shuffle back to the table and find the guests in different seats. The girl you’d spoken with before is now talking to a guy so tall he can easily pass off as a tree had not he spotted you staring and offered a taciturn wave. All around, faces blur before your eyes and threads of conversation weave in and out your ears, tangling into a ball that threatens to trip up your feet if you weren’t careful. Spotting an empty seat, you quickly take it and pour yourself a shot of soju to avoid talking to more people. Not alone in the endeavor to deflect from social interaction, the guy two seats down looks awfully familiar as he does the same. Squinting to get a better look, you suddenly remember the incident at the bathroom and storm over, taking him completely by surprise.

“Can I… help you?”

You place your empty shot glass down and cross your arms in distaste.

“I believe you owe me an apology.”

He arches an eyebrow in question. “Excuse me?”

“You bumped into me outside the bathroom and just walked off like it was nothing!”

Realization is slow to sink in, and he rubs his neck awkwardly after it comes to mind.

“Ah, that… I didn’t see you then, my bad.”

“Hmm, you’re fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to hold grudges in the midst of enjoying a free meal. “At least you remembered, unlike some people.”

A low chuckle leaves his lips before he pours another shot of soju into his empty glass and then refills yours.

“That happened before? You being bumped into by the bathroom?”

“Sure.” You nod in thanks and drain the glass in one go. “One time it wasn’t even an accident.”

“Do tell. If you’re willing to share, of course.”

The first smile to grace your face since stepping into the restaurant brightens up your mood immediately and you take the bottle of soju, refilling the two empty shot glasses and holding yours up to toast.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

He does the same and gently taps your glass, clinking in cheers to a new friend at what had been a very unexpected turnout at the singles mixer.

“Doyoung. Likewise.”

—

You’d somehow spent the entire evening eating, drinking, and chatting with Doyoung, the guy surprisingly easy to talk to despite the sour first impression. He had also been dragged along to the mixer, but rather than to find a date, his  reasons in attending were free food and drinks. Clearly the benefits had outweighed the costs of interacting with strangers in the process. 

Perhaps you both had completely missed the point of the event, but enjoying delicious food was always a pleasure, even more so with a kindred spirit who was equally as understanding about the pointlessness in singles mixers.

“Met anyone cute last night?”

“I had a lot of soju and meat,” you answer without looking up from the files you needed to analyze. “Thanks for paying; the food was delicious.”

“That wasn’t the point!” your friend shrieks, hands grabbing the collar of your black blazer and shaking vigorously while speaking. “The point was for you to meet someone so you’re off the market!”

“Love is not all there is in the world,” you retort, prying her hands off. “Some of us are lucky in that department while others like me just naturally fall short.”

“That’s why I’m helping you meet more people!” 

Five manicured fingers slam onto your desk. “Saturday, 6pm, my boyfriend’s place.”

“I’d rather die than third-wheel you and your Taeyongie.”

“He invited two of his most eligible coworkers after I told him I want to set something up for you. So you definitely won’t be third-wheeling.”

The intensity in her eyes is startling, so much so that you offer to get her a cup of water to calm down after making such a heated proposal to obtain your attendance at her little gathering.

“No, I’m fine. But Saturday, make sure to clear your schedule for dinner.”

“This is the last blind date you’re setting up for me,” you warn, promising to save Saturday evening for her event. “I appreciate the gesture, really I do, but you can’t force these things.”

“Fine,” she sighs, nodding in understanding. “I won’t set you up for more blind dates or drag you to any mixers if you want to let these things happen naturally.”

“That’s not exactly what I said, but thank you.”

“You’re my friend, silly. Friends look out for each other.”

◇

Saturday arrived sooner than you expect and here you are, standing before #3622 of the apartment unit your friend cohabited with her boyfriend. Checking that your outfit wasn’t out of place and makeup not smeared during the rush to arrive on time, you take a deep breath and press the bell. The chime travels within and brings the sound of shuffling footsteps and creak of the door frame soon after the initial ring.          

“Finally!”

The excited screech from inside audible from the front door, you exchange with the boyfriend who had opened said door and he shrugs.

“She’s like that,” he smiles, waving you in. “Please, come in.”

Hanging up your coat on the rack adjacent to the shoe cabinet that housed a mix of sneakers, high heels, and other styles telling of a cohabiting couple, you place your shoes on the side and cringe a little at the dark blue bunny socks snug around your feet. Fingers crossed, hopefully no one would notice.

“Cute socks,” Taeyong adds before making his way to the kitchen. “They look just like the pair my girlfriend has.”

A wave of embarrassment washes over your face immediately, already caught when you had harbored the hope that your socks would go undetected.

“Thanks,” you mumble to yourself, letting out a grunt at the whirlwind that crashes into you and hugs you so close that you find it hard to breathe.

“I can’t breathe.”

“You’re here!” your friend squeals, a sound that threatens to dull your eardrums to oblivion at the close proximity. “Thanks for showing up; I genuinely thought you’d bail on me!”

“We’re friends,” you remind her, spotting an opening to wiggle out of the hug. “Plus, I promised.”

“Come, come, I’ll introduce you while Taeyongie makes dinner.”

She leads you to the living room, the black leather couch with enough occupancy for three already occupied by one other.

“This is Doyoung. Doyoung, Y/N. Y/N, Doyoung.”

“You again?” comes the simultaneous chime at seeing each other’s faces.

“You’ve met before?”

“At the mixer,” you explain, not expecting the unexpected twist of Doyoung being Taeyong’s coworker. “We met there.”

“Well, make yourselves at home and I’ll let you know when food’s ready.

“Small world,” she murmurs, letting you talk with Doyoung while she skips to join her boyfriend in the kitchen.

You turn to Doyoung awkwardly and he’s just as flustered, not knowing what to say as you take a seat next to him.

“So,” you begin, “You work with Taeyong.”

“Yeah,” he nods tersely. “Finance.”

“I’m an accountant,” you reply in kind. “Basically the same department.”

“Sure.”

The tension ever growing with each passing second of silence, your eyes wander around and lock in on an opened box of chocolates on the coffee table. On cue, a low growl emits from your empty stomach and your ears pick up a low snort from Doyoung’s end.

“I didn’t eat beforehand,” you mumble in your defense, grabbing the box and uncovering the lid. Six pieces of decadent chocolates wink up at you, waiting to be eaten. 

“You think they’ll mind if I take one?”

“No,” he replies, “I’ll have one too so you’re not the only one responsible.”

Liking his answer, you share the box with him and end up eating four of the six pieces before finding the willpower to talk to him again.

“Here for free food like last time?”

“Partly,” he divulges, leaning back onto the couch. “Taeyong’s a pretty good cook.”

“The other reason?”

“I have nothing else to do.”

The burst of giggles that escape your mouth shifts the topic away from Doyoung and he is quick to send the question back.

“And you? You can’t be here just to steal your friend’s chocolates.”

“This was supposed to be a setup for me to meet some prospective blind dates,” you reveal, still in the midst of catching your breath. “I… I promised my friend I’d show up.”

“Blind date,” he echoes, “That would make sense as to why there were so many people at the restaurant.”

“It was a singles mixer,” you exclaim, dumbfounded at his slow realization. “Why else did you think there were strangers all gathered together at a table?”

“I thought they were just other friends of Taeyong’s. He’s super popular at work; I can only imagine how it must be outside of work.”

“Heard my name.” A head pops in from around the corner. “Need anything?”

“We’re good,” Doyoung speaks up. “Are you good?”

Taeyong reaches his hands behind his back and unties the string of the blue apron over his white tee. 

“Johnny couldn’t make it, so it’s just you two eating with us.”

“A double date?” you whisper under your breath. “What a scam.”

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

“Nothing,” you blurt quickly, bumping Doyoung’s elbow. “We’ve been eating your chocolates while waiting; hope you don’t mind.”

“They’re quite good,” Doyoung joins in, picking up on your signal for help. “Where’d you buy them?”

“Homemade,” Taeyong replies, “Hopefully you two didn’t eat all of it when I’m already done with dinner.”

The last two pieces of chocolate are quickly shifted to the front of the case to give the illusion that there were still plenty, and Doyoung strategically places the lid at an angle so only said pieces are seen upon first glance.

“Go,” he whispers, ushering you out. “I’ll be right behind you.”

—

Can it be fate’s call that Doyoung is the one?

You’d already met him on two blind dates, both instances completely by chance that he would be the one you chose to engage with. Great minds that think alike, the vibes between the two of you went along the same wavelength, as if you’d known him forever—even though that wasn’t the case at all. Was he really the one to take you off the market when you’d been available for so long?

After Saturday’s dinner, he had offered to take you home even though his apartment was in the opposite direction and nearly stayed the night if he didn’t bring up the fact that he would miss the last train should the discussion on the joys of eating all of your friend’s chocolates continue further. Letting him go and texting to meet up again the next day, he was prompt to accept the invitation, even returning the gesture for dinner next Friday at another barbecue restaurant for drinks and all-you-can-eat meats. The back-and-forth invitations persisted for a good month, yet neither you nor he ever asked the question about making the relationship as one of more than friends.

Did he not like you back? Or was it all just a misinterpretation of what was clearly becoming a close-knit friendship?

—

“So… anything happen between you and Doyoung?”

“We’re friends now, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

The disgruntled noise above your head elicits an eyeroll and you tune out the incoming rant about wasting a good friend’s efforts in helping you find the love of your life.

“Are you even listening to me?” she whines, waving her newly manicured hands over your computer screen.

“You painted your nails pink this time.”

“Mean!” She leaves you alone and you can practically see the pout and protruding tongue on her face as you watch her go. Returning your attention to the stack of reports waiting to be reviewed, an hour or so easily flies by. Before you know it, the entire office is empty and dark save the little desk light shining next to your canister of pens. So absorbed you were that you hadn’t even noticed everyone else had already gone home while you were still looking through financial reports.

“Maybe I’m working too hard…”

Grabbing your jacket and briefcase, you remember to lock the doors before taking the elevator down to the main lobby. The security guard on night duty gives a slight nod before holding open the door, and you step out into the chilly cold of the night. No wind, but the relatively thin pants and white blouse on top do little to offer much warmth.

“You have a jacket, you know.”

Turning around, you nearly drop your briefcase at the sight of the figure standing not too far from the curb. In Doyoung’s hand is a cup of coffee, which he promptly offers after you put on your jacket.

“You’re finally clocked out,” he begins, gesturing at the dark office building. “I was thinking you had overtime after everyone left and I didn’t see you.”

“How do you know where I work?” you ask, enclosing both hands around the coffee cup to obtain as much heat emanating from the hot liquid.

“I followed Taeyong when he said he was going to pick up his girlfriend from work today.”

“Ah…”

You take another sip of coffee and he asks if you’d be willing to have dinner with him, the offer too tantalizing to reject when he promised to be the one paying. Giving him the choice of location, you’re even more surprised when he brings you to take the train, getting off at a stop not too far from what looked to be a food fair. Tents propped up along every inch of the path boast of local street foods and drinks while people enjoying the park or who have already bought food sit on blankets by the grassy meadows overlooking the large riverbank. 

Not what you had expected when he said he’d treat you to a meal.

“There’s a food fair tonight,” he explains, naturally pulling you closer as hordes of people push past to reach their favorite stalls. “Anything you want, you pick and I’ll pay.”

You lick your lips in anticipation, prepared to empty his entire wallet.

“Anything I want?”

“Anything,” he laughs, “My wallet has enough to fill you up until you explode.”

“Even lobster?”

Doyoung follows your line of sight to the stall selling grilled cheese lobster, already knowing it would be the first thing you wanted since it was the most expensive item at the fair.

“Get me one too.”

Never one to enjoy crowded areas, tonight is an exception that you find yourself enjoying immensely as you hop from stall to stall with Doyoung right behind. Lobster, spicy rice cakes, meat skewers, fried dumplings, the choices are endless at every corner you turn. Not to be outdone, Doyoung is always one step ahead of you with wanting to try something else when you hadn’t even finished what you currently had on hand, and you eventually call it quits after buying a carton of banana milk from the convenience store to quench your throat from all the hot food.

“I’m full,” you groan when he returns with two soft serves. “You’re going to have to eat those yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, sitting down on the grass. “The lady was kind enough to make these taller for me when I told her it was for my date.”

The word ‘date’ catches you off guard and you quickly look away, not knowing what to say.

“I’ll give it away if you’re sure you don’t want it.”

Extending a hand, you take the cone before he changes his mind and ignore the snicker from his end. The cold dessert is quick to melt despite the chilly air, or perhaps you were just too slow in eating it when you were still full from all the food you ate earlier.

“It’s dripping all over your fingers,” Doyoung nags, dabbing at your hands with a napkin. “Wait, I have another.”

As he wipes your hands clean with a stash of napkins from his jacket pocket, you study his angular face, not quite sure what about him was so captivating that you continued to stare even after he had finished cleaning off the melted soft serve.

“Something on my face?”

“No.”

“Oh. You kept staring at me, that’s why.”

“You… You’re quite handsome, Doyoung.”

“Are you drunk?” he laughs, pressing a hand against your forehead. “No, you’re fine.”

“Why… why did you call this a date?”

“I asked you out and you agreed. Does that not make this a date?”

“I mean…” You shift a little, legs growing numb from being seated in a prolonged position. “You never told me you liked me or anything.”

Now it is his turn to remain silent, and he takes his hand away before placing both palms on the grass and leaning back to look up at the night sky. Following his gaze, the smallest twinkle of a star sparks against the dark backdrop, and you point out another not too far from the first.

“Would it be too late if I told you now?”

“No,” you shake your head, voice growing small. “It’s never too late for that.”

He scoots closer and your hands touch, the sensation shooting up sparks of electricity that warm your face in the cold of the night. Turning towards him, you take a deep breath and press a chaste kiss against his cheek, equally as flustered at your boldness as he.

“So does this mean you’re fine with being my date?” he begins tentatively. “Not a blind date but as a forever kind of date?”

You smile, not at all surprised by his lingering doubt. 

“What do you think, Doyoung? We’ve already had two blind dates and I’ve always showed up. Would I take precious time out of my busy schedule to meet with someone I don’t like?”

“I don’t know, maybe you’re the spiteful type that shows up just to reject me.”

Loud laughter echoes across the park, turning heads to the pair of new lovers who were starting to bicker amid the grassy knolls. Those who didn’t know only see the smiles and warmth in their eyes despite the breeze that blows past, the little bubble encapsulated around the two keeping them oblivious to the rest of the world.

—

“Another mixer?”

“Yeah! Go with me; there’s going to be free drinks!”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” you bring up, shutting down your computer and grabbing your jacket from the chair. “Why are you going when you already have your Taeyongie?”

Your friend pouts, blowing a raspberry at his name. “Don’t talk to me about him.”

“You two didn’t break up, did you?”

“No. He’s just working overtime again. For the third consecutive night.”

You let out a noise of understanding, then shake your head at the offer. 

“I do enjoy free drinks, but tonight I’m going to pass.”

“Pass?” She follows you out of the office, heels clicking against the tiled floor. “You have plans tonight?”

“Yup.” Into the elevator you two go, and once the doors open down at the lobby, you step out and spot Doyoung immediately. He raises an arm to wave, holding up what looked to be a cup of coffee in his other hand.  

“I can’t join you when my boyfriend’s here to pick me up from work.”