#poor divs...

[robotics-and-additions-7a]

" Why not? "

★ [ The support was genuinely curious, tilting its head and slightly pulling away to look at his older brother more clearly. ] ★

★ [ There's a green glow in the distance. ] ★

-> Distant footsteps could be heard. Not just one pair, but a couple. - @radical-exploits [:3c]

★ [ ...The android seemed to be just sitting on the grass. It had walked around for awhile earlier, trying to find that mansion he'd been told about, but it eventually gave up. He fidgeted with its scarf, one of his antenna flicking every few seconds. ] ★

★ [ The support raised its head at the sound of footsteps, both of his antennas raising a bit. It stood up from where he was sitting, turning its head in the direction of the footsteps. ] ★

" ...Hellooo? "

[moon-ttokki-x]

stupidly perfect - (best friend!bang chan x reader) part 2

pairing: best friend!bang chan x reader

summary: after a nasty scare, you talk to felix and hyunjin about what happened. the distance between you and chan grows, until...

genre: angsty angsty, idol!au, mentions of hospital, blood, cuts, bruises, no graphic descriptions, mentions of needles (blood withdrawals), mentions of food and drink, han and jeongin want to be medical professionals, seungmin is far too honest (he loves them really), chan loses his shit, i'm not sorry for the ending :]

a/n: the long-awaited part of 'stupidly perfect'! everyone cheer . div by @ferretmilkshakezzz

skz masterlist | skz prompt list | part one here

The room is cold; it's the kind of cold that you only experience in hospital. That starched-white, stiff, sterilized cold that seems to sink into every fibre of your being, turning it to ice, until all you can do is sink further into the pristine sheets, trying to find some semblance of warmth.

Warmth.

It reminds you of Chan all over again; the pining, the admiring, the restaurant, Chae. Crying in the bathroom. Confessing. The car.

It's been two days since the accident; your cuts and scrapes are beginning to scab over, but you're still not allowed to leave. They woke you in the hospital in a daze, took one look at your battered body, and that was that. One week of staying in hospital, then they'll see what they can do about letting you go home.

You sigh. Turning onto your side with some difficulty, you survey the familiar white blandness of the room.

It's empty enough; the door in the corner has a pane of frosted glass over it, and a couple of switches by the frame. There's a white table and two chairs placed near the wide window, and the monitors surrounding your bed are a sterile light grey, beeping and flashing.

White, white, white.

Huffing and turning to your left to look out the window instead, you find a slightly more interesting sight; raindrops slide down the glass in a constant, heavy drizzle, and you can just make out the tall, surroundings buildings nearby. The sky is grey, and you think then that maybe the world really has lost its colour. It only felt that way at first; now you can't help but wonder if your world is turning to greyscale, void of colour and life and love.

There's a knock on the door and you're sluggishly dragged out of your misery. Pressing a button by your bedside to let whoever it is in, you sit up a little as a nurse enters the room.

"Hello," she says softly. "Feeling any better?"

You shake your head, and try to offer a smile, but it doesn't work.

"Poor you," she replies quietly. "Anything to eat, maybe? A drink of water?"

"No, thank you," you whisper, exhausted.

She nods, adjusting the hem of her ironed top, and then moves to draw the blinds down. Just enough to dim the room slightly and still let you look out the window.

"You have a visitor," the nurse says softly. "Are you feeling well enough to see them, or should I tell them to come some other time?"

You sit up a little straighter then, heart beginning to throb unpleasantly in your chest. "I, um.. Let them in."

She nods and leaves, and you can hear her softly speaking to someone in the corridor. There's a little bit of shuffling, and then a familiar face pokes its nose into the room.

"Felix," you say, relieved.

He shuts the door with far more care than he ought to, and the comical sight makes your heart twinge. You didn't even realise how much you missed him, too caught up in your own head to acknowledge the Felix-shaped hole in your heart.

He drags a chair from the table over to the bedside and flops down, depositing his bag onto the floor. You inhale deeply; a fresh wave of sweet-smelling cologne fills your senses, immediately reinvigorating. The air feels light and tangy.

"How have you been?" Felix says quietly. "Heard it was nasty."

You sit up with some difficulty, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in your joints. "Yeah, I'm okay. I guess. Could've been worse."

Quiet. Then-

"He's torn to pieces about it," he says even quieter. "Chan."

You sigh and look down at your bruised hands, fiddling over the starched sheets. "Oh."

"Yeah."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide down a little against the pillow. "Is- is he okay? Like..."

Felix sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. Leaning back on the chair, he toes his boots off and places his socked feet on the bed, crossing his legs over one another. You crack a tiny smile at the casual gesture.

"He hasn't been talking much," he muses. "Kind of just stays in his room most of the time. He stopped talking to Chae as well. He felt so guilty."

You groan. "I didn't try to make him feel guilty. I just wanted to tell him how I felt all this time... and I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been so upset about what happened at the restaurant."

"I know."

"He didn't have to cut Chae off because of it... I kinda wanted them to stop talking, but I didn't want that to happen..."

"I know."

"And now I messed up and I'm stuck in hospital all cut and bruised because I couldn't fucking look both ways before I crossed the road-"

"I know."

You slap him half-heartedly on the shoulder. "Is that all you're going to say?"

He runs a hand through his dark locks again. "Nah. By the way, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner to see you. I figured you'd want some time to rest and heal."

You sigh. "It's okay. I just- Everything is a mess right now."

"Messes can be cleaned."

You sigh and shift against the uncomfortable firm mattress. "Lix?"

He tilts his head. "Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you came to see me."

Felix is silent. Then, he stands and leans against the glass of the window, looking down thoughtfully to the streets below.

You get out of bed with some difficulty and join him, letting your forehead rest on the cold, cool glass. You're not bothered that he isn't replying to your sentiment; sometimes, people say the most when they speak no words at all.

Both of you are aware that the glass could break at any moment and send you both hurtling to the ground, but you don't move and neither does Felix, still looking down onto the street far, far below.

All you can hear is his soft breathing, the muted sounds of city life rumbling seemingly right under your feet, and the occasional soft footsteps of a nurse outside the door.

"Are you gonna talk to him?" Felix says. "About it all."

It's a vague enough question; strangely, you feel your heart flutter. Talking to Chan after getting out of hospital seems like such a faraway event. Like it's something that you don't need to worry about for the next few years, so distant.

That is not true.

"I'm gonna have to face him at some point," you say, sighing in resignation. "Should I wait for him to find me first? It might be less awkward..."

Felix lets out a little laugh, drawing a circle on the glass with his fingertip. "It's gonna be awkward either way."

You sigh and look down at the streets below. It seems so peaceful up here, yet you can see the faint, faraway tell-tale gathering of dark clouds on the horizon.

He's right.

.

"So," Yuna exhales, pulling your bag inside the door. "Do you want me to pick up anything from the grocery store for you?"

You think about this question as you set your waterbottle down on the counter. It's so good to finally be back home. Yuna, one of your work friends, called and asked if you wanted help getting set up back at home, and you had readily and gratefully agreed.

"Um.. I need more milk and..." You open the fridge, then the pantry, to inspect what needs replacing. "...And some ramen."

Yuna scoffs. "Y/n, you are not living off ramen. You just got out of a week in hospital... do you want to send yourself back in from an MSG overdose?"

You laugh, your healing ribs hurting at the action, and unzip your bag. "Okay, fine. I'll ask Felix if he can spare me anything. The boys said they'd drop off a few things for me too."

She brings you in carefully for a hug, and you wrap your arms around her frame. She smells so nice, and not for the first time do you deeply relish the warmth of someone's arms around your body. There's something about physical affection that is just so comforting.

Especially after so long in hospital.

Felix had dutifully come to visit you every day, each time bringing a couple of the members. It had been a welcome distraction from the fading novelty of being hospitalised and the injuries you sustained, but after Han and Jeongin asked the nurses to have a go at giving you a blood withdrawal, Felix had hurried them out of the room.

Not that they minded.

Then there was Seungmin, coolly making jokes about turning off your life support (you weren't even in intensive care), and Lee Know, who had smuggled Dori into his bag to bring to you.

"Dori will kiss it better," he had said seriously (Dori bit you).

Hyunjin spent most of his time sketching and painting over your bandages; it was a welcome gesture from the stark white you'd gotten so used to seeing in the hospital. Even Changbin had taken time off his busy schedule to see you, often coming into the room fresh from the gym or a dance practice.

But no Chan.

Each time they entered, you'd look up in anticipation and barely veiled hope, but it was always wasted. He never showed. Felix told you they'd been trying to persuade him to come and see you, but Chan had refused and shut down. You were a little disappointed and partially relieved at this revelation.

You glance down at the bandages wrapping your forearms now; not exactly a cast, but not a simple wrap either. It's slightly stiff, and you smile at the multitude of silly signatures and drawings that the members and some of your friends had peppered the surface with.

Looking around your living room and then casting a glass-eyed gaze over the kitchen, you inhale deeply. It feels strange to be here. The place is well-worn, lived in, but it feels like you've walked into someone else's home and stood in the middle of the room. It doesn't feel like you live here at all.

Oh well, you think. Time to get settled.

.

And settle you do; by the time the clock hits seven, you're curled up on the couch with a blanket, a bowl of hot soup (courtesy of Lee Know), and a good tv show.

You've turned the lights off and put the lamps on instead; you swear if you see one more bright light you might literally lose your mind.

The dim, golden glow is comforting; it makes you feel warm, and along with the effects of Lee Know's soup, the fluffy blanket, and the light pitter-patter of rain on the window outside, you begin to feel very sleepy. The show you've put on in the background drones on faintly, and for a moment, you revel in the quiet.

Until the doorbell rings.

You groan and heave yourself up from the couch. Standing up, you pause for a few seconds to see if whoever it is will give up and decide to go away.

They don't. The doorbell rings again.

Yawning, you make your way to the door and unlock it, coming face-to-face with none other than Hwang Hyunjin.

"Hyune," you say, surprised.

"Hey," he grins sheepishly, running a hand through his buzzed hair. "Can I come in?"

You step aside and shut the door as he takes his shoes off, shrugging off his rain-spotted jacket. Wordlessly, you sit back down on the couch and gesture for him to do the same. He does.

"How have you been?" You ask him quietly, trying to drape the blanket over yourself once again.

Hyunjin reaches across and tucks the blanket in for you. "I should be the one asking that, don't you think?"

You shrug.

He sighs, leaning back against the couch, and tucks his socked feet up underneath him. "I'm okay."

"Just okay?"

He shifts uncomfortably, like there's something wrong with his insides. "I, um... Have you talked to Chan yet? Has he talked to you since..."

You shake your head. "Why? Aside from the obvious."

Hyunjin exhales. "He's lost his shit."

"What?"

He sits up a little further, repeating himself. "He's lost his shit. He's just- not himself."

You sigh and relax against the cushions, not knowing what to say. You feel a little bit bad, but your stubbornness tells you that Chan should be the one to reach out again first if he's so upset about it.

You tell Hyunjin that, but he just shakes his head.

"One of you is going to have to take the first step to fix this," he says. "How do you feel about it, though?"

"Considering it was my own fault for not looking both ways, and my fault for setting off the whole thing... it still stings."

He nods understandingly. "I figured you might wanna talk about it a little, if Felix hasn't done that already. That's why I came."

You shake your head. "We talked about it a little, but I guess he was mostly there to distract me."

Hyunjin chuckles. "He's good at it too."

You nod. There's silence.

"So you're in love with Chan," he says finally.

Hearing it being said out loud is strange. Like something surreal floating in the air. Not a truth that you've kept buried for so long. Well, not anymore, at least.

Hyunjin's voice snaps you out of your daze. "Do you still love him? You know, after all of this."

You sigh and cast your gaze on the golden light emitting from a nearby lamp. "I don't know. I guess. But it doesn't matter if he doesn't feel the same way."

"Maybe he does," he says earnestly. His skin is honeyed in the dimness of the room.

"He's far too busy for it anyway," you say. You hate the way it sounds like you're unsure. Like you're trying to convince yourself that you're not in love with your best friend.

Hyunjin seems to pick up on this, because he scoots a little closer, stroking a couple of fingers along your blanketed knee. "Even if he doesn't feel the same way, Y/n, it doesn't mean you can't still work it out. You two were inseparable-"

"Yeah, until Chae came along."

"Was she really the reason?"

You sigh and turn to face him, shifting on the couch. "If he really loved me, he would have made an effort to talk to me despite Chae. Like I did. I did everything I could to see him as often as possible," you sigh. "But he didn't do the same thing."

"Maybe he was too afraid to ruin what you both have," Hyunjin says diplomatically.

You scoff. "Well, he shouldn't have worried, because I ruined it for both of us."

He sighs and touches your hand lightly. "Talk to him. We've been trying to convince him to come and see you-"

"No," you say, panicked. "Don't do that."

"Y/n, just- How are you both supposed to work this out if you keep avoiding each other?"

You groan and lean your head on his shoulder. "I don't know. And I want to fix this, Hyune, but I can't face him and have him tell me he doesn't feel the same way. It's better like this."

"Is is worth losing him to preserve your feelings?"

Silence.

"I don't know," you finally admit, voice quiet.

The lamp flickers.

.

In the morning, you wake up sprawled on the couch, the blanket tucked up neatly under your chin. You glance across at the coffee table; your bowl isn't there anymore, and the TV is off. Hyunjin is gone.

Sitting up, you notice the bowl in the sink, and a small bag of something, probably food, on the counter. Thanking your stars that you have good friends, you stand up and stretch.

Your strength is almost fully replenished, and your cuts and bruises have gone from angry reds and pinks to faded purples and browns. They don't hurt as much anymore, and it's easier to move around, so you decide to get some housework done after eating.

The weather outside is still grey and stormy; it rains hard for the first part of the morning. You've woken up quite late, but the sleep must have done you good, because by the time afternoon hits, you've cleaned up your place quite well.

Your phone buzzes, then again, and again; it's the SKZ groupchat, and you smile at the multitude of welcome-home messages flooding in from the guys. Your cheeks warm.

Hanji Quokka 🔥: WELCOME HOMEE Y/NNNNN Kiwi 🥝: Hope you slept well. Seungie 🐶: Don't do that again. Thought you were gonna die. We all got excited for a minute. Lixie Pixie 💫: SEUNGMIN Strong Guy 🐇: SEUNGMIN Lee Doesn't Know 💟: SEUNGMIN

You roll your eyes and your finger moves to press the button to turn your phone off, fighting a smile. Their affection, however chaotic, makes a twinge of warmth settle comfortably in your stomach.

Your phone buzzes again, and you open your messages to see a text from Hyunjin.

Hyune: Feeling any better? Y/n: Yes. Thank you. For last night as well... I didn't even hear you leave. Hyune: Probably a good thing. I reckon you needed the rest. Y/n: Yeah. Hyune: Can I come over tonight? Y/n: Of course.

You turn your phone off then. It seems a little strange, that he sent you a private text rather than just asking how you were in the group chat. But you shrug it off, and decide to continue cleaning up.

You don't notice how dark it's beginning to get; wiping the minimal sweat from your forehead, you quickly run upstairs to change into a fresh set of clothes and wash up.

Hyunjin said he'd come round the same time as yesterday, so you turn all the lights off and put the lamps on again. You like the honeyed wash it coats everything in, softening all harsh corners and edges and covering them in that familiar, golden glow. Warmth emits from their bulbs.

You're about to plop down on the couch and dissociate for a while, or at least until Hyunjin comes over, but the doorbell interrupts your motions.

Huh. That was quick.

It's raining outside again, you notice as you make your way to the door. The comforting pitter-patter fills your senses as your fingertips touch the cold metal of the door handle.

You undo the latch and pull the door open. You expect to see Hyunjin, drops of water clinging to his jacket, a sheepish grin stretched handsomely across his elegant features.

But it's not.

"Chan," you whisper.

a/n: ohohohooo reader is cooked (i think. i haven't decided what the third part will be about. anyways.)

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[miharuki]

𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

escapes to revelations that in the end resulted in a kiss

TW: none so far, making out, slight sexual innuendo but nothing TOO explicit, you're slow, justice league animated series

English is not my first language!

It had been a while—actually, even before the League was formed—but Wally, the current Flash, had always had a crush on you. On your hero form, to be specific. And not just that—he always dreamed of maybe taking things further, even as civilians. But while the Flash might have flirt, he lacked the courage to talk to you. He stuttered and couldn’t flirt properly without sounding like a total goof. He had already given up. You were way out of his league. Too closed off. He even thought maybe you and Batman were competing to see who could be the coldest.

Poor Wally. Everyone in the League knew about his crush—it was painfully obvious. Sadly, you never noticed, and no one ever told you. Flash begged them—literally on his knees—not to say a word. It was almost pathetic. He never thought he had a chance... except for that night.

You’d just escaped from the Thanagarian ship—Hawkgirl’s species. You all took shelter in a closed-down store. From the sound of wings flapping and voices nearby, there were several patrolling above the area. The only way to go unnoticed was to remove your suits—your heroic identities—and go civilian. Wally, of course, was incredibly curious to see what you looked like as a civilian, but also a bit scared. Scared that you might not like what was under his mask.

“Whoa, wait a sec—what about secret identities?! I trust you guys, but I don’t know if I’m—” the boy was cut off as Batman pointed at his chest.

“Wally West. Clark Kent. Bruce Wayne.”

“Show-off,” Wally muttered as he removed his mask, now staring at the tall man’s face—Bruce Wayne. Wonder Woman ran a hand through Wally’s hair, giving him a bit more confidence, but he was still nervous. When he turned to look at you, he was prepared to see disgust or disinterest… but you didn’t react at all. Instead, you also removed your mask (or, if you’re like J’onn, changed form, etc.), revealing your civilian identity.

“W-wait! [Your Name]?! As in [Your Full Name]?!”

You looked confused. Was your identity really more shocking than Batman’s?

“I thought you'd react like that to Bruce,” you commented as you picked up the clothes Diana had given you.

At that moment, Wally didn’t know what to say. Sure, it was shocking that Bruce Wayne was Batman—but it made sense with the whole billionaire thing. But you? He’d seen you. On magazine covers. He tried to say something, but Bruce threw a change of clothes at him.

With everyone now in civilian attire, the team agreed to regroup at Bruce’s house in Gotham. They split into pairs and trios, but as soon as one of the Thanagarians spotted you, you didn’t even have time to react—Wally scooped you up and bolted. With your arms around his neck, you looked back to see everything fading behind you.

Once he finally stopped, he set you down—but before either of you could say a word, you grabbed him and pulled him into a nearby alley as you noticed more Thanagarians approaching.

“Sorry about this,” you said, pushing him against the wall. He didn’t understand at first, but the moment he heard voices, it clicked.

He just didn’t expect it to go that far.

You lifted your leg and guided his hand to hold it, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Sorry for wha—”

He was cut off as you kissed him.

He could swear his heart was racing. This was a dream come true. It was supposed to be quick—but the hawk people just had to hang around the street, searching. At that point, Wally didn’t really care. In fact, he might even be grateful.

His hand on your waist squeezed slightly, pulling your bodies closer. The one on your thigh hesitated, wanting to go further. Your lips were divine to him—the color, the softness, the taste. Your mouth too. He was getting addicted. He didn’t want to stop. God, you were divine. If this was just a sample, he couldn’t even imagine the rest. God, he wanted you.

The kiss grew more serious—turning into full-on making out. Your hands ran through his hair, and you could swear you heard a moan from him. When your breath gave out, you pulled away. But as Wally leaned in for more, he didn’t expect you to go for his neck. He just prayed he wouldn’t get hard—that would be way too embarrassing. His body stiffened even more when a Thanagarian walked into the alley, then recoiled with disgust.

“Ugh, filthy humans. Nothing here!”

With that, the alien flew off. Once the coast was clear, you pulled away from the boy.

“Sorry about that.”

“Relax. I liked it. A lot, babe.”

You turned to the street and saw it was empty. Fixing your clothes, you said, “They’re gone. Let’s go.”

Wally was still dazed, but he let you lead him. He hoped that after tonight, maybe he could ask you out.

Later, in the Batcave, as you were discussing with the others, John—Green Lantern—looked at Wally and whispered,

“Looks like someone had fun.”

Wally looked at him, confused, until John pointed to his neck. When the redhead touched his own, his fingers came back stained with your lipstick. He smiled, blushing.

Yeah… he was definitely going to ask you out. Maybe he even had a chance to kiss you again.

God, you were divine—both as a civilian and as a heroine.

[mamoonde]

teenxian trailing off mid-sentence when teenji finally relents and strips down to his pants to join him in the lakes, new tan lines stark on his toned body, glistening with sweat from their morning training... mouth agape, until he catches a glimpse of tan lines on teenji's forehead where the lan ribbon had slipped sideways a bit, which snaps him out of his stupor and makes him burst into fond laughter.

later, teenxian rubs his chest, mumbling: hoo boy, that was weird. was i under the sun too long? chest cramp? water bug, maybe?

teenjc, fed up and sneering in disbelief: ...yea, the idiot bug, probably

thinking about a canon div au where lwj goes to yunmeng jiang the summer after gusu lectures, walks in just in time to see a sweaty half-naked wwx, his dirtied training robe left hanging around his waist where it's tucked into his trousers and belt, tousling with equally sweaty and dirty junior disciples (only a handful of them are in equal states of undress).

wwx spots him half a minute later, right after demonstrating the proper archery stance to another disciple. the moment he does, he blinks, then brightens, dropping the bow to make his way towards lwj.

all six feet (how is he suddenly so tall?!) of him, sunkissed skin, toned chest and stomach bare and gleaming with sweat.

lwj can hardly breathe. his right hand is a tight fist behind his back. he imagines his frayed tether to his sanity in his desperate grip.

wwx is in his usual teasing lwj mode, especially now that he's a solid 2 inches taller than lwj (for at least the summer), back turned to his silly shidis shooting kites, revelling in lwj's attention—

his hand moves before he can think, snatching the arrow in midair an arm's length from them.

lwj had been so preoccupied he hadn't even noticed it before wwx had suddenly turned and seemingly plucked it out of thin air.

wwx clicks his tongue. "watch it, guys; i can't have lan zhan thinking i'm a crappy teacher!" he chucks the arrow as though it were a spear, where it lands dead center at a target.

lwj desperately recites the gusu lan precepts about restraint and proper conduct in his head. mostly, he would like to – needs to – lie down.

"but you are a crappy teacher!" one of the disciples retorted. "you all but left us for dead the moment you saw some handsome gongzi!"

"what, am i supposed to choose you stinky lot over a handsome er-gege?!" wwx snorts then turns back to lwj with a grin.

please don't notice my traitorous body, please, please, please, lwj prays desperately.

"sorry about that, lan zhan! these guys still only hit about half the kites—oh? do my eyes deceive me?" wwx leans closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

before lwj can step back to safety, wwx's hand grazes the tips of his ears. end me now.

"my poor dear lan-er-gege, has the yunmeng sun already given you sunburn? your ears are as red as my hair ribbon!" wwx cackles, then grasps his sleeve, tugging him towards the pavilions. "don't you worry, i'll take good care of you, lan zhan! shijie should know where to get salves to soothe the stings."

lwj swallows, wanting to collapse right there and then if that wouldn't only add to his mortification. he eyes the lakes. maybe if he could just stay there the entire summer...

[mashtatosworld]

i want it, i got it

summary: your little girl has to get her flu shot and uses it to her advantage

“You have to take her, Jiyong.”

Jiyong groaned dramatically from the driver’s seat, his head falling back against the headrest. “Don’t make me do this.”

You sighed through the speakerphone. He had delayed this for weeks now, always finding some excuse not to take her. “She needs her shots, Jiyong. You want to keep taking her on tour with you, right?”

He huffed, side-eyeing his very unbothered daughter in the backseat. She was busy looking out the window, kicking her tiny feet against the car seat, blissfully unaware of the impending betrayal.

“She’s going to cry,” he whined.

“She might,” you admitted. “For like two seconds. But then it’ll be over, and she won’t even remember.”

Jiyong crossed his arms. “I’ll remember.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jiyong, take her to the doctor. And send me updates.”

And with that, the call ended.

Jiyong let out another exaggerated sigh, turning to Diva. “I’m so sorry, my baby. I tried to negotiate. But Eomma is a tough cookie.”

People may have said she looked like him but sometimes, he saw you so vividly in his daughter. And he loved it.

"What can I do to make it better? Do you want to go shopping after?"

Diva turned her big, round eyes to him, blinking. Then, with the same seriousness her father had, she pursed her lips and said:

“B’Donald’s.”

Jiyong blinked. “Huh?”

She jutted out her little chin. “B’Donald’s.”

He and Diva had a terrible habit. A milkshake addiction. They were caught sneaking it one too many times, even slipping away in the middle of the night to the drive thru after she'd wake from a nightmare. So you had put your foot down.

But now? Now, he was weak.

Diva narrowed her eyes. “B’Donald’s.”

She was two, but she already knew her power.

Jiyong groaned, ruffling his hair. “Aish, okay, okay, fine! But just this once.”

Diva’s face lit up as she won.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong sat in the clinic, his knees bouncing, heart racing like he was waiting for his shots.

Diva, meanwhile, sat on his lap, snacking on a tiny bag of gummy bears as she leaned back against his chest. She was relaxed. Completely unbothered.

Jiyong, however? He was dying inside.

“Alright, just a small pinch,” the nurse said, gently patting Diva's arm.

Jiyong tensed, squeezing his eyes shut. He buried his face against the top of Diva’s soft head, whispering, “Oh, my poor baby.”

Diva merely sucked on a gummy bear, staring blankly as the needle went in.

Jiyong flinched harder than she did.

“It’s done, you can open your eyes now.” The nurse chuckled.

Jiyong hesitated. “It's over?”

Diva nodded, chewing.

Slowly, he opened one eye, peeking down at her. She was already reaching for another gummy bear. Not a single tear. Not even a wince.

And yet he was the one sweating.

Diva turned to look up at him, eyes serious, and chewing slowly.

“B’Donald’s.”

Jiyong sighed.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong sat across from Diva at McDonald’s, watching as she happily munched on her chicken nuggets.

Not only had she not cried, but she had somehow played him into buying her:

A nugget happy meal (with fries, apple slices, and a toy of course), a strawberry milkshake, and a brand-new scooter - another addition to her extensive collection.

She already had about five in the garage, neatly stationed beside his sports cars.

Jiyong playfully glared at her. “You didn’t even cry,” he muttered.

Diva, sipping her milkshake, ignored him.

Then, his phone buzzed. It was you checking up on them.

Jiyong smirked and sent you some pictures he had taken. His camera roll was full of photos of you two.

You replied almost instantly.

Jiyong froze. Oh shit.

"Eomma isn't going to be happy with us."

Now it was Diva's turn to freeze.

“We need to make it look bad,” he whispered, pulling the tray away from her.

Diva slammed her hand on the tray before it could get far. “My B’Donalds!”

“No, no, you still get your food.” He wrangled it from her grasp. “Just pretend to be sad.”

Diva thought about it, then nodded, resting her head on the table.

He snapped the photo and sent it.

Jiyong deflated, his head falling on the table with a defeated groan.

He felt a little hand pat his head and he looked up. "Aw, are you trying to comfort Appa?"

Diva pointed at her tray. Reluctantly, and slightly wounded, he slid it back towards her with pursed lips.

From across the table, Diva sipped her milkshake smugly.

Eventually she took pity on her father and fed him a couple of her fries. Jiyong chewed them slowly, savouring the taste of salt.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

loved this sweet request!!

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Can you please please please make the pastor’s daughter x rafe little blurb a longer fic omg and it would be so good if Rafe gets her pregnant and her parents find out and either kick her out so she moves in with him or they make her marry rafe you def don’t have to use my ideas because honestly any way you write this it would be so good ❤️

ℱ𝓊𝒸𝓀ℯ𝒹 𝓊𝓅

a/n: ooo!! Love this sm.🫶🏽

warnings: pregnancy, mostly fluff ig? morning sickness, mentions of hook ups, sort of an arranged marriage?? But they both actually secretly like each other.

lovely div by @/xxbimbobunnyxx !

You felt sick, miserable as you rolled around in your bed. You let out a groan, feeling the bile rise back up into your throat.

You leaned over the bed and grabbed the bowl for what felt like the tenth time this morning.

“Oh, poor thing.” Your dad had sighed, bringing in more medicine for you to down. But nothing had made you feel better.

When you went into the bathroom, it was then that you had realized you were late. You swallowed, a thought popping into your head before you pushed it back down.

You looked over to the window, the window that showed you the balcony of Tannyhill. You spotted a figure on the balcony. You turned back quickly, shaking your head, and turning the sink on, washing your face with the running water.

You sighed heavily, turning back to the window and looking out. A part of you knew what you needed to do. But you hoped that you were wrong.

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” You mumbled, looking down at the lines. “F…” the words died in your throat, a sob escaping instead. You held your head in your hands, glancing out the window.

It was a couple hookups. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You walked over to Tannyhill, wiping away any stray tears, the test hanging heavy in your pockets. You raised your fist, rapping on the door.

You heard a voice talking from inside. “Yeah, y- Look, it’s all taken care of, swear.” He murmured. You knocked on the door again, fishing for the test. You held it up, waiting for him.

“I’m fucking coming!” He shouted this time, opening the door, phone held to his ear by his shoulder. His gaze went to your face to your hands, holding something out in front of you.

His eyes widened, mouth going agape.

“L-listen, Barry, I gotta go.” He mumbled, taking the phone from his ear and hanging up, looking at you again.

It took longer to tell your parents. Weeks for you to finally get the courage. Rafe sat next to you, looking down at the ground, arms folded together.

“Let me get this straight, you’ve… been having premarital sex… underneath this roof?” Your father asked, voice raised. You nodded, looking down as well.

“Honey…” your mother spoke, putting a hand on his shoulder, looking at you with sympathy.

“I know. I sinned…“

“I didn’t raise you like this.” He was disappointed.

“I know, daddy.” You mumbled, tears falling onto your sock covered feet. Rafe pulled you closer to him, trying his best to comfort you silently, a hand on the small of your back.

He sighed, pausing before speaking again. “You understand… that the church is gonna speak, right? This affects me. Us.”

“I know.” You repeated.

“Unless… unless you got married.” He looked at Rafe. Both of you snapped your heads up to look back at your dad.

“Daddy, what do you mean?” You asked the man.

“I’m sorry?” Rafe asked with raised eyebrows, asking him to repeat.

“Would your dad be opposed to you getting married?” He directed his question to Rafe.

“N-no.” He mumbled. “But, sir…”

“And do you love my daughter?”

Rafe looked down at you, you turning to look at him. Rafe huffed. “We haven’t really… gotten that far yet.” He looked back to your dad, avoiding your gaze.

“Well… You two’ll get married. No one needs to know.”

“Wait, daddy, I- I- I don’t even know how far along I am, how am I supposed to hide it for that long?”

“I’ll arrange everything to be done by next weekend. The church will host it, and I’ll ask for donations and everything.” Your dad spoke, standing up and leaving the living room with your mom.

You swallowed, looking back to Rafe. “Fuck.” He grumbled out, his hands going down his face. He exhaled.

“It’s not all bad… is it?” You asked him quietly.

He looked back down at you. “You’re a… a good girl, I’m a fucked up guy. It’ll never work. I’m gonna mess everything up.”

“Now we can be fucked up together.” You mumbled to him, a chuckle escaping his mouth.

[fawningflowered]

KATE MARTIN X WIFE READER -

authors note; comments + reblogs are always better than likes!! i loveeeee feedback!

request; “i loved your pregnancy hcs with kate, could you do some of after the baby is born? like taking turns with the baby, meeting the team etc? love your writing!” — first off, thank you so much angel 💕 i hope this was good!!

word count; 640 words

— kate sat next to you with fear in her eyes as she watched your body be taken over by tremors. the poor girl hadn’t even heard of “the shakes” until the nurse explained how, and why this was happening to your body during labor and that it might possibly happen after birth aswell. for you, it was also quite frightening, the feeling drowning out all other senses besides the pain of your contractions. despite trying her best to stay strong for you, the sight of you lying there, broke her heart. there was nothing she could do besides hold your hand.

— as soon as the two of you find a quiet moment together with your baby resting peacefully in his bassinet, kate lovingly positions herself next to you, gently pressing her lips against your knuckles. her voice when she spoke was all that could be heard in the room, besides the baby’s unlabeled breathing, “you did so good, baby.”

— your wife and you had both had agreed that there were to be no visitors allowed until after the three of you had safely returned home. every family member who asked, was told the same. after the two days you spent in the hospital, then you’d open your home for only close family on both sides. under the condition that nobody was ill at the time of their visit. the two of you stayed focused on your little family and creating a sense of privacy during your time together, making sure that your experience remained undisturbed and cherished.

— during your entire time postpartum, she was your rock. physically, mentally, and emotionally. from the minute you brought the baby into the world, she is there to provide nothing but her love and support. whether that be feeding the baby in the middle of the night while you slept, or listening to you as you ranted. no matter what, kate was there.

— most nights, you’d open your eyes, the sound of the baby's cries gently nudging you awake, making you to rise sleepily and shift your weight to the edge of the bed. you’d yawned and drag your feet over to the bassinet, barely a couple of steps away, kate would get up aswell. the blonde’s hair was tousled from sleep, but she still remained gorgeous. your wife was a bit groggy, but determined to tend to the baby. 

"hey, baby, you should rest. i’ll handle him for now," kate whispered to you softly, before kissing your forehead and sending you back into bed.

— on the phone with your overly persistent mother, she begged and pleaded to come see her grandbaby. but, with her living out of state, you didn’t want to risk the baby getting something she caught on the plane over. so you told her “no”, over and over.

“i don’t want to sound mean, mom —“ but you were cut off by kate, who was usually the sweet one in the relationship, “i don’t mind being mean. you can wait. he’s not going anywhere.”

— around a month and a half later, you’d decided the baby was in a place where he could meet extended family or friends. kate’s teammates began coming over. first it was kelsey and a’ja, then the others followed suit. eventually, caitlin and her girlfriend flew down aswell. the amount of flower bouquets you had by now was insane, and you finally had to ask people to stop bringing them, just in fear that they’d take over your whole home. 

— you and kate often took turns. whenever something needed done, you’d just hand the baby off to the other one. your favorite moments were when all three of you cuddled together or when you’d wake up to kate and the baby sitting in the rocking chair in his nursery.

taglist; @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin @favreader23 , divs by @/anitalenia

[rubylace]

PART 2. LIKES TO WATCH

m.list

pairing: musician!jay x reader (f) ft. yunjin lsrfm ; suga bts, mingyu svt, yeonjun txt

genre: coming-of-age, new adult, personal growth, sexual tension, fams dynamic, lovehate

wordcount: 17k

warning: nsfw pov, explicit acts, voyeurism . if you are not comfortable please just dni I put div for the cue. no disguised words.

a/n: really confused about how to be intense ㅠㅠ not me check out jay's hot edits to get the mood-

Things hadn’t gotten any better between Jay and you. The house had four bedrooms. Since you’d turned one of them into an exercise room. Jay used the other one as an office during the day. His muffled voice could often be heard from behind the door as he made work calls. Apparently, the company he worked for sold business solutions software.

Yunjin and you were working almost every night at Yeonjun’s as well as the occasional afternoon. One day in particular, you were on break when we overheard the restaurant owner, Suga, complaining that the band who performed most nights had suddenly quit.

Mingyu’s was probably the most popular spot on the entire island for live music. That’s what it was known for even more than the food. So, this didn’t bode well for business. Her voice was low. “I wonder if Jay would be interested in playing here.”

You’d been feeling kind of sick this afternoon, but the mere mention of his name made your stomach feel even more unsettled. “You think he would want to perform in a place like this?”

“Yeah. he’s used to bigger venues, but it’s not like he’s doing anything else. He took the summer off, but I get the feeling he actually regrets it. He’s been in a horrible mood since we got here. I think he’s itching to play again. It might do him some good to get back in the game for a bit on a smaller scale. It’s not like there would be any pressure. No one knows him out here.”

The thought of getting to see Jay perform gave you goosebumps. On one hand, it would be amazing. On the other, you knew it would be painful for you to have to endure him here at night. His actually agreeing to it probably wouldn’t pan out, so you vowed not to obsess over it unless it became a reality.

“I’m gonna talk to Suga,” Yunjin said.

“Do you think you and Jay will get married?” Not sure why asking that question. You’d been curious as to how serious they were, and it just came out.

Yunjin hesitated. “I don’t know. I really love him. I hope so if we can work out our differences.”

“Differences? Like what?”

She took a sip of her water then frowned. “Well, Jay doesn’t want kids.”

“What? He told you that?”

“He says he feels it’s irresponsible to bring children into the world unless he can be 100% sure of capabilities as a parent. He says he doesn’t feel that his own parents should have ever had children, and he just doesn’t think it’s for him.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want kids anytime soon. My career comes first right now, but someday I would like to have them. So, if he definitely doesn’t want kids, then that could be a problem.”

“He’ll probably change his mind as he gets older. He’s still so young.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s really bad. He won’t even have sex with me without a condom, even though I’m on the pill. He refuses to take even the slightest chance because he’s so fearful. He’s super paranoid.”

Trying to block out the images of them having sex, you simply said, “Wow.”

It made you really sad that Jay felt that way because of his parents. They were constantly working and never paid enough attention to him when he were kids. His mother was always away on business trips.

That was part of why Ameryn was so important to him. Truthfully, your mother shouldn’t have had a child either. But her poor parenting didn’t stop you from wanting to have a child of your own someday.

Yunjin took a closer look at your face. “Are you feeling alright?”

Thinking about the stress of your reunion with Jay was finally catching up with you. Your nerves were shot, and it was all making you sick.

“Actually, I’ve been feeling ill all day. My stomach is upset, and I have a headache.”

“Why don’t you go home early? I’ll cover your shift and let Sakura know what’s up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll owe you then.”

“Believe me, there will come a time that I get called back to NYC, and you’ll make due on that.”

“Okay,” you said, getting up and unfastening the black smock tied around your back.

The entire walk home, despite your vowing not to think about it, your thoughts once again turned to Jay and the fact that Yunjin was going to try to get him the gig at Yeonjun’s. It had been years since you’d heard his singing voice. You wondered what it sounded like now that it was deeper and with years of practice.

Jay’s car was parked outside of the house. He was expecting Yunjin and you to both be at work. You had to pass through the kitchen to get upstairs to your room and hoped you didn’t have to run into him without Yunjin here as a buffer.

Relief washed over you as you entered the empty kitchen. You grabbed a water bottle and some Advil for your headache and tiptoed up the stairs so that Jay didn’t notice you home.

The sound of heavy breathing coming from his bedroom stopped you in your tracks at the top of the stairwell. you could hear sheets rustling. Your heart beat faster. He didn’t think anyone would be home. “He must have a girl in there. How could he do that to her?”

You had to pass his room to get to yours anyway. Ameryn had the hallway carpeted. Covering your chest with your hand, you crept slowly toward his door which was cracked open. You closed your eyes briefly to prepare yourself for what you might witness when you peeked inside.

Nothing could have prepared you for the reality behind that door. There was no girl. Jay’s eyes were tightly shut as he lay back on the bed, alone. His jeans were undone, halfway down his legs. His left hand was firmly wrapped around his enormous cock as he pressed down on his balls with his other hand. “Holy mother of…” you speak inwardly.

Swallowing the saliva building in your mouth, you watched the movement of his hand as he stroked himself hard in a twisting motion. He’d gotten himself so aroused that you could hear the slick sound of the wetness as he pumped into his palm.

You knew that watching him was absolutely wrong. In fact, this was probably the lowest thing you’d ever done. But there was absolutely no way you could look away, if this were going to be the reason you went to hell, then so be it. You’d never witnessed something so intense, never imagined that he could be deriving so much pleasure alone.

Jay’s mouth was agape, the tip of his tongue slowly sliding back and forth across his bottom lip as if it were seeking out the taste of something or someone. Your own body was shaking, your clit throbbing. The ache to be with him, to join him was immense.

So enraptured in every move he made, you was no longer thinking about whether you watching him was right or wrong. He was fisting the sheets with one hand now while fcking his palm faster. With every movement, your muscles clenched tighter. You was wet, bewildered at your mind’s complete surrender to your body.

The low and deep groans of pleasure that came out of his mouth were making it that much worse. You knew wholeheartedly that this watching him pleasure himself was the single biggest turn on you had ever experienced.

Getting off was normally such work for you. You needed a vibrator and porn and even then, sometimes it was impossible to relax enough to really make yourself come. Right now, you had to cross your legs to control the need building between them as he licked over his bottom lip again your own tongue tingled as you imagined what his wet mouth would feel like against your own lips, he pumped into his hand imagined that it was you wrapped around his cock.

You had never wanted anyone as badly as you wanted him in that moment. His hair was matted and messy as the back of his head pressed against the headboard. The clank of his belt buckle became more pronounced as he thrust his hips, his fist working harder to keep up. The intensity of his self-pleasure left you in total awe. His breathing became even more ragged as his eyes rolled back.

You swallowed hard and watched, mesmerized as streams of cum shot out from his large crown like a fountain. The grunts of pleasure escaping him as he orgasmed were just about the sexiest sounds you’d ever heard come out of a man’s mouth. Your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest.

Watching this whole thing unfold had making you totally lose sense of reality. You feel like you’d been experiencing every movement, every feeling right along with him, except you wasn’t allowed to come. It was as if you’d seriously lost your mind in the process.

That was the only thing that could possibly explain why your body decided to betray you, letting out an involuntary sigh, a moan. You wasn’t sure and couldn’t even tell you what it was except to say whatever sound you made caused Jay to jump back.

---------------

His head whipped toward you, and his shocked eyes meet yours for a brief second before you ran back down the stairs. You heart felt like it was in your mouth. Escaping out the front door and down to the water, you continued to run aimlessly on the sand. About a mile down the beach, it became necessary to stop and catch your breath, even though you wanted to keep running.

You’d gotten so wrapped up in Jay that you’d forgotten how sick you was this afternoon. It was all hitting you again as you stumbled over to the shoreline and vomited into the ocean.

You collapsed into the sand and must have sat there for over an hour. The sun was starting to go down, and the tide was coming in. It felt like everything was closing in on you. You knew you couldn’t avoid going home forever.

“What if he told Yunjin what I’d done? That I was watching him.”

What excuse could possibly give him that would explain why hiding behind his door, watching him ejaculate like it was a Fourth of July fireworks performance?

You decided that you needed to get home before Yunjin did. Maybe you could convince him not to say anything. Brushing the sand off your thighs, you made your way back over to the house. Your heart nearly stopped upon finding Jay standing in the kitchen, drinking out of a glass of lychee juice.

You stood silently behind him and watched as he put the container back. Jay turned around and finally noticed you standing there. His hair was wet. He must have taken a shower to wash away the awkwardness of your encounter.

Looking painfully handsome in a brown t-shirt that fit his chest like a glove, he just stared you down. You braced yourself for his humiliating words. Your heart was beating out of your chest as he just continued to look at you blankly without saying anything. He slowly walked toward you, and all of the muscles in your body tightened. He was going to get in your face and do it.

Jay stood inches away from you. He smelled so effing good, like soap and cologne. You can feel the heat of his body, and you knees started to feel weak. He stared deeply into your eyes. It wasn’t necessarily an angry glare, but it wasn’t a happy or amused look either. After several seconds of silence, he took a deep breath in and said, “You smell like vomit.”

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, he turned around and walked away back toward the stairs before disappearing. “Is that all? I smelled like vomit?”

Wondering he was going to let the whole thing go or was he just saving it for later when Yunjin came home.

Business at Yeonjun’s had really suffered since losing The Ruckus their headlining band. Suga had managed to fill the spot each night with mediocre local talent, but people were noticing the difference. The place would empty out much earlier than normal, and you weren’t getting as many customers in general.

You knew that Yunjin had spoken to Jay about taking on a few nights, but last you’d heard, he wasn’t interested. So, you could imagine your surprise when he turned up at Yeonjun’s one early Friday evening with his guitar strap wrapped around him.

At first, you didn’t realize it was him until he looked over at you. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach the moment you noticed him standing near the door, looking like he didn’t know where to go. Since it was unseasonably cool out, he was wearing a navy hoodie and a beanie. It always seemed to bring out his eyes.

Given how he’d treated you, your physical attraction to him never ceased to amaze you. Jay’s exterior, which was so different from what you remembered, helped distract from what you knew was inside. The truth was, as much as you wanted him physically, it still didn’t compare to the longing that remained for your old friend.

He never mentioned the jerk-off encounter to Yunjin, nor did he torture you about it. You didn’t know why he decided to give you a pass on that, but it was eternally grateful. Yunjin had gotten called out of town for an audition this morning. You’d assumed that he was going to go back with her.

You stopped wiping the table you’d been cleaning and walked over to him. “What are you doing here?”

He lifted his guitar from around his neck. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I thought you went to NY with Yunjin.”

“She’s not going to be gone very long. And I already committed to this gig.” He’d said it almost scornfully.

“I thought you were against playing here. I overheard you telling her that you’d rather perform at a prison than a lowly beach hut.”

“Yeah. Well, I guess she showed your boss some footage of me, and he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“How long will you be playing here?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks. Until we leave.”

“You’re not staying the whole summer?”

“No. That was never the plan.”

Disappointment set in. You should have been happy that he was leaving soon, but hearing that news had the opposite effect on you. “Wow. Okay. Well, do you need me to show you around?”

“I’m good,” he said before walking away from you, heading toward the back of the restaurant. Jay disappeared for at least an hour. He was scheduled to perform at 8, so he had about 10 minutes to go before show time.

Your curiosity got the best of you as you went in search of him. The door to one of the back rooms was cracked open, and you could see him downing a bottle of beer and looking stressed. You wondered if he ever got nervous before a show.

Even he considered performing here a joke, he was still going to be putting himself out there.

His eyes darted to the side, and he noticed you standing there. Just stared at each other. It was ironic, but the only times you could ever feel the remnants of your old connection were in fleeting moments of silent eye contact. Sometimes moments of silence spoke the loudest.

You left him alone again, making your way back down the hall and into the restaurant to tend to the customers you’d been ignoring.

Without Yunjin working tonight, you were short-staffed, and you was having a hard time keeping up with the orders. Yeonjun’s had indoor and outdoor seating. Normally, you would only be working one section, but tonight you was going back and forth between the two.

It was nice out, so you knew they would have Jay performing outside. You kept glancing over to the stage to see if he was there. It's 8:05 pm, and he hadn’t made an appearance yet.

You was in the middle of serving a large party of ten when you first heard it the chilling sound of a soulful voice that was not familiar in the least. He gave no introduction, just started to sing out the first few words followed by the strum of his guitar. The song that Jay had chosen to start with was a cover of Drunk Text by Henry Moodie.

The entire room soon quieted down, and all eyes were on the stunning blond male specimen with the spotlight shining down on him. Despite the fact that you was carrying a large round tray of dirty dishes, you couldn’t move. Aside from the lone teardrop that fell the night he lost it on you during steak dinner, you hadn’t shed any more tears until now.

It was all too much. Hearing how different his voice sounded, how he’d trained it over the years, was a wake-up call as to how much you had missed. All of the hours of practice that must have gone into honing that beautiful voice, and you wasn’t there for any of it. The guilt, the emotions, the reality of a decade gone, everything started to pummel you at once.

He had to have true talent to perform solo acoustically. All eyes were on him and nothing else. There were no distractions to take away from a cracked voice or any other screw ups. Jay singing the song flawlessly. The vibration of his voice is like a deep massage to your entire being.

“I’m Jay. I’ll be here for the next few weeks. Thanks for coming out tonight.”

Applause and a few whistles rang out. Your focus on Jay had prevented you from tending to your customers. A few of them were waving you down, antsy for refills, so you took their orders and made your way over to the bar. He took a sip of beer then spoke through the mic again.

“This next song is an original I recently wrote myself. Hope you like it.” He strummed the guitar once and added, “It’s called, She Likes to Watch.”

Your body stilled upon hearing the title and it took a few seconds to register. “This song goes out to all the sneaky little voyeurs out there. You know who you are.”

The retaliation that you’d assumed he’d waived was in fact simply delayed and about to be dished out in all its glory. You refused to look over toward the stage. The bartender placed the drinks in front of you, and you forced your wobbly legs to move long enough to drop them off to their rightful owners before the song started.

When the song eventually ended, the crowd went wild. They apparently loved the idea behind it.

”Did he really just put things that just happened? Or just a coincidence?” When you finally garnered the courage to look over at him, he flashed a mischievous smile before moving right into the next song.

*****

At nine the next morning, you was still in bed when you heard the front door open. You could hear the muffled sounds of Yunjin and Jay’s voices as she joined him in couch. She must have left the city really early in the morning to come back here.

As much as you really liked Yunjin, something was unsettling about her return. There was always an underlying jealousy that you couldn’t help feeling.

Around noon, you threw on a terry cloth sundress before joining them in downstairs. The sun pouring into the kitchen was blinding. Jay smirked and lifted the carafe. “Coffee?”

You flashed an exaggerated smile. “You know what? Yes. I would love some.” Determined to continue your façade about loving Jay’s coffee, instead you becoming addicted to his coffee fusion.

He brushed it off. “It was fine. It’ll give me something to do to pass the time here.”

“What did you play?”

“I tried out a new song.”

You swallowed.

“The one you played for me the other night?” she asked.

“No. A different one.”

It dawned on you that Jay probably chose to perform She Likes To Watch last night in particular only because Yunjin wasn’t there. It still baffled you that he was keeping the whole incident to himself when he could have just told her and embarrassed the sh*t out of you. He smiled at you. “Want a refill?”

You smiled bigger. “Don’t mind if I do. This stuff is really growing on me. Quite a surprise.”

“Well, I know you love surprises.” You rolled your eyes at him. Thankfully, Yunjin had no way of knowing what he was referring to.

At night, Jay practically become a local star in Newport overnight. The crowd at Yeojun’s was nearly double what it had been before he became the nightly entertainment. The newest patrons were primarily young women who had heard about the hot new headlining guitarist. Yunjin and you were just headed out the door to work when her cell phone rang.

“Sh*t. Hold up. It’s my agent,” she said.

You waited in the doorway for her to take the call. After a few seconds, her hands started trembling.

“You’re kidding. You’re kidding!” Jumping up and down, she covered her mouth.

“Oh my God! Yes, of course, I can.” Finally, she just let out a yelp of excitement.

“Thank you for letting me know! So, what’s next? Okay. I’ll call you tonight,” she said before hanging up.

“What’s going on?”

Yunjin let out a scream of joy and pulled you into a hug, her boney frame pressing against your ample chest.

“I got the part of understudy for a pretty big role on Broadway! It was one of the two auditions I had last week. I had thought it was a longshot. My agent wasn’t even going to send me initially!” When she let out another loud squeal, Jay came downstairs.

“What the hell is going on down here?” She ran toward him and threw herself into his arms.

“I got understudy!”

“Are you kidding? That’s awesome!”

Feeling awkward and like a third wheel, you cleared my throat and said, “Congratulations, Yunjin. I’m so happy for you.”

“When does this all go down?”

“They want me in NY in a couple of days.”

He looked frazzled. “Oh, Alright. I wish I hadn’t committed to that gig at Yeonjun’s. I would have just gone back with you.”

“It’s okay. It’s only a couple more weeks that you promised him, right? It’ll go by fast.”

“Yeah.”

Yunjin smiled. “Be nice to Y/n.”

taglist: @rikizm @sumzysworld @xyzcxx @morganaawriterr @maccaab @jungwoniee

PREVIOUSLY | NEXT

[biblical-chronicles]

Bun in the oven

_______________________________________

where Noel and the reader announce to Liam that he's gonna be an uncle.

_______________________________________

You were perched on the couch in Liam's house next to Noel, who had one arm slung lazily over the backrest, fingers idly brushing your shoulder. The two of you exchanged a look—half excited, half nervous—before Noel leaned in and murmured, “Y’ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, nudging his knee. “He’s going to take the piss, isn’t he?”

“Undoubtedly,” Noel muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But we’ll get through it.”

Liam’s voice echoed down the hall as he shouted something indistinct about finding some “mint beers” he’d been saving. Moments later, he strolled in, triumphant, three bottles in hand.

“Right,” he said, plunking the beers down on the table and cracking one open. “One for you, one for you, and—” His brow furrowed when you held up a hand, shaking your head.

“Can’t, sorry.” you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

Liam froze, bottle halfway to you. “Eh? What d’you mean, can’t? It’s beer. Beer’s god's apology for makin' us self-aware.”

You glanced at Noel, who snorted into his drink before setting it down. “She means,” he started, voice laced with sarcasm, “she can’t have a beer ‘cause there’s a bun in the oven.”

Liam blinked at him, clearly confused. “A bun in the—what, you’ve taken up baking or summat? You? Never in a million years—”

“No, you div,” Noel interrupted, rolling his eyes. “She’s pregnant.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as Liam’s face shifted through a series of expressions.

“Shut up,” he said, pointing a finger between the two of you, a grin breaking wide across his face. “Yer havin’ a baby? Like, proper? I’m gonna be an uncle?”

“Proper,” Noel confirmed, leaning back and crossing his arms with a smug look. “Congratulations, Uncle Liam.”

“Bloody hell,” Liam said, setting his beer down before throwing his arms around Noel. “I can’t believe it! Little Gallagher runnin’ around, eh? This is mad.”

Noel stiffened at first but softened, patting his brother on the back. “Yeah, mad’s one way of puttin’ it.”

Liam then turned to you, pulling you into a tight hug—but not before hesitating, his hands hovering awkwardly near your arms like you were made of glass. “You alright? Everythin’ good? I don’t wanna squish ya love.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. “Liam, it’s early days. You’re not going to squish me.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, pulling back slightly but still beaming, “can’t be too careful, can I? Gotta look after the little bean. Or whatever it is.”

“It’s not even the size of a bean yet,” Noel interjected with a laugh, but there was no mistaking the affection in his tone.

Liam ignored him, looking at you with wide, almost childlike excitement. “D’you reckon it’s a boy or a girl? Have ya thought about names yet? Oh, mate,” he added, turning to Noel, “we gotta teach ‘em all the good stuff. Football, proper tunes—none of that shite they play on the radio now—”

“Let’s get through the next few months first, yeah?” you said, grinning.

Liam plopped down on the couch beside you, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is brilliant. Honestly, I’m made up for you both.”

He glanced at Noel, then back at you. “You lot are gonna smash it.”

“Cheers.” Noel muttered, though his tone carried that slight wariness he always had when his brother was too nice for suspiciously too long.

Liam leaned back, one arm casually slung over the couch. “Right, but let’s not forget who’s really gonna make this kid’s life a laugh, yeah? Uncle Liam. Gonna be the one showin’ it the ropes, teachin’ it the important stuff. Like how not to take after its dad.”

“Oi,” Noel barked, narrowing his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re boring, our kid. Imagine this poor little bugger growin’ up listenin’ to you ramble on about vinyl pressings and guitar tunings.” Liam grinned mischievously. “But don’t worry, I’ll balance it out with some proper fun. You’re welcome.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into Noel as his hand moved to rest protectively on your knee. “You’ll probably just teach it how to wind everyone up.” you teased.

“Exactly,” Liam said with mock sincerity. “That’s a life skill, that.”

Noel rolled his eyes. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas. I’m not havin’ you corrupt the kid before it even knows how to talk.”

Liam feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “Corrupt? Me? Nah, I’ll just be there to keep things interesting. And while we’re at it…” His smirk returned, full force. “If it’s a lad, Liam’s got a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “You really think Noel’s gonna let you have that one?”

Noel scoffed. “Not a chance. The kid’d never live it down.”

“Oi, don’t knock it,” Liam said, wagging a finger at him. “Liam Gallagher Junior’s got a nice bit of charm to it. Better than Noel Junior, imagine the poor kid havin’ to walk around with that.”

“I’ll have you know Noel’s a solid name,” Noel shot back, though there was a spark of humor in his eyes. “It’s classy.”

“It’s old-fashioned,” Liam countered, leaning forward. “No offense, mate, but if you want this kid to have any street cred, you might wanna leave the name-pickin’ to me.”

You couldn’t stop laughing at their bickering. “Alright, alright,” you said, raising your hands. “How about we just call the kid Noel Liam Gallagher? Settles it, doesn’t it?”

Liam’s grin was instant. “Now we’re talkin’. Rolls right off the tongue, that.”

Noel groaned. “Don’t encourage him, love. Whose side are you on here?”

You just laughed, slowly leaning against him.

“Typical,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Liam leaned back again, clearly satisfied with himself. “Well, whoever picks the name, just know I’m gonna be the favorite, yeah? Uncle Liam’s got this one in the bag.”

You glanced at Noel, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “This is gonna be one spoiled kid.” you said, resting a hand on your stomach.

“Yeah,” Noel muttered, squeezing your knee gently. “But they’ll be loved, and that’s what matters.”

Liam just raised his drink towards you two. “To the kid. Lucky little bugger, gettin’ to have me around.”

_______________________________________

cute little scribble to get back down from yesterday's filth xx

might do summat more today, since I have the time and will (and a couple of Noel smut requests are lookin' at me nicely. Genuinely so so so excited to write all these requests I'm seeing xx)

and proper thanks to @tashi-3 for the request !!

[winniefrezcomics]

If elad's full name is nightshade what is ved's full name? If he has one.

It’s Vedvik! Dev and Ved were actually named completely independently of one another lol, as were Dale and Elad! (longer explanation below but here’s a TLDR nerdy lil chart about the families names lol-YES I misspelled ‘NoolbuoD’ im SORRY, backwards names are HARD)

 

OK so usually I’m not one to stick to Cannon religiously, but I feel the need to remind everyone that canonically speaking, anti-fairies had been kept in captivity at Abracatraz up until Timmy freed them in their first appearance, meaning (to me anyway) anti-fairy world has been populated for less than 100 years, despite fairies and anti-fairies being billions of years old. That’s CRAZY. ☠️☠️

Anyway, with that head-canon in mind, anti-Doug was for sure part of the final generation of anti-fairies born in captivity, a.k.a. the last generation to be assigned their names.

I think some anti-fairies continued this practice after gaining their freedom, (whether out of tradition or laziness) but anti-Doug was always a bit of an antisocial person (as a mirror to Doug’s hyper-aggressive extroverted sales tactics), so pretty much as soon as he gained his freedom, anti-Doug cut all ties with fairies, and began to live a quiet, humble life of a writer, never troubling himself with things like television or the news. Much like Elad, Bud was extremely surprised by his pregnancy, but welcomed it with open arms, lovingly naming his baby after one of the crops he had been carefully tending for decades, Nightshade 🥺

As scribbled on the chart, I imagine Ved’s name originates from some sort of cheesy vampire novel, a guilty pleasure of Elad’s, though all his pleasures are guilty I guess 😂 anyway, when Hazel was very young -basically as soon as she found out anti-fairies were a thing- she INSISTED upon meeting the other fairy kids, though it took several years to get the clearance to do this. in that time, Hazel met Divination, (the secret FOURTH fairy child) gained his hesitant friendship, and THEN was finally given permission to meet the anti-fairies, Ved included! with Ved being so polite by anti-fairy standards, He and Hazel actually hit it off, and they became friends much more quickly than she and Dev were able to ( my poor traumatized son 😭) 

As a result, when divination expressed dislike over how long his name was, and how both his robot guardians refused to shorten it, Hazel suggested Dev as a nickname (having previously suggested div, but being told that sounded stupid ☠️☠️) dev likes this and starts going by it, not finding out the origin of this nickname until long after it had stuck, and he still kind of secretly resents being ‘named after’ his anti-fairy, since it’s ‘supposed to be the other way around’ 🫡

Info dump over, ask me about fairy historical revisionism tho LMAO (in my opinion the ‘baking contest’ is a crock of shit lie fairies history books feed them so they don’t feel bad about what actually happened to the anti-fairies 🫥)

[the-most-humble-blog]

<!-- BEGIN TRANSMISSION -->

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap">

<meta memory-trigger="visual corruption via VHS">

<script>ARCHIVE_TAG="BUSH_REVELATION_LOG_0001"</script>

✝️ **CONFESSION: THE FIRST TIME I SAW BUSH**

I was too young.

Too innocent.

Too stupid to know what I was looking at.

We were in my cousin's basement.

The babysitter — teenager, messy bun, nail polish chipped like she had a better party to be at —

found a dusty VHS in the back of the entertainment unit.

She put it in like she’d done it before.

Grinned like it was a joke.

But I didn’t get the punchline.

And then there it was.

**Bush.**

Up close.

Obscene.

Alive.

---

I didn’t know what it was.

Didn’t know it was supposed to be there.

Didn’t know it could *move.*

It had hair.

It had lips.

It twitched like it had **breath** and **intent.**

And when the man on screen started doing things to it,

I didn’t understand why the white stuff shot out of his pee pee like that.

I didn’t understand why she screamed like that.

I didn’t understand why *hers* was gone.

Because that’s what I thought:

> “Oh no.

> That poor woman.

> Someone took hers.

> Someone removed it.

> Someone replaced it

> with a furry, scary animal.”

It looked like a **monster with no teeth**

and a mouth that still *wanted something.*

---

That was the day I realized:

**Grownups are creatures.**

Not people.

Not protectors.

Not anything familiar.

**Creatures.**

Hairy.

Secret.

Bent toward something biological

and terrifyingly **real.**

---

I didn’t have hair in stupid places yet.

Didn’t have white stuff that could shoot out.

Didn’t have desire.

Not until later.

---

Now I do.

Now I’m a man.

Now I know.

And I think I’ve figured it out.

> Maybe we’re here

> just to fuck.

> Just to reproduce.

> Just to **create others**

> who will eventually do the same —

> again and again

> until the last star dies

> and God's experiment runs cold.

---

But in the middle of that cycle?

There’s beauty.

There’s truth.

There’s something terrifying and unspeakable and holy

between a man and a woman in the dark.

Where no one can see.

Where the words run out.

Where the body takes over

and **creation resumes its cycle.**

---

That’s why I post what I post.

That’s why I write what I write.

Not for shock.

Not for clout.

Not for clicks.

For *truth.*

The unpolished, ungodly, biologically divine truth

that lives where your mother told you never to touch.

---

And I know…

I know what some of you think.

> “Too inappropriate.”

> “What will people say?”

> “It’s not safe.”

> “It’s not professional.”

> “It’s not normal.”

Exactly.

It’s not.

---

This space isn’t for you.

You are *safe.*

You are *acceptable.*

You are *palatable.*

Stay there.

---

But I —

and those like me —

will eat the **fruits of our Creator**

until we are ripped from this cold, cruel universe

and buried with the taste still on our tongues.

And if that offends you,

just remember:

You had the chance to scroll past.

You chose to watch.

</div>

<!-- END TRANSMISSION [AUTO-WIPE IN: 06:06:66] -->

[littlesparklight]

Something about the conjunction between Oinone being a nymph and thus a minor divinity, and the very mortal way she behaves at the story's end in the Oinone version of Paris' death...

Oinone, as a nymph, ever youthful at the peak of maidenly beauty like all nymphs - yet, she's probably (a lot?) older than Paris.

She and Paris get together while he is a slave, and their relationship ends (by Paris leaving, either for Troy to be recognized or for Sparta, and marrying Helen upon coming home) when he comes to as privileged a status as a mortal can, vis a vis being mortal and contra any of the divine.

Being a nymph, too, and thus a minor divinity, though nymphs are always potentially in danger when it comes to male gods and satyrs, contra a mortal, she is, basically, untouchable. (Not her heart, though; that poor, tender thing. It will be what kills her, in comparison to most other nymphs dallying with mortals.) A mortal man involved with a nymph should be taking the same care not to insult her as he would with "greater" goddesses; an example of which is Daphnis' story.

Daphnis (in Parthenius' Love Romances, citing Timaeus), gets together with a nymph named Echenais. She "fell in love with him, and bade him never have to do with mortal woman; if he disobeyed, his fate would be to lose his eyes." He gets drunk (either being made drunk by a princess in love with him, or simply through his own carelessness), and, of course, sleeps with another woman. The nymph might blind him herself, eventually he dies, and sometimes he's even turned to stone, but either way. The nymph has no apparent reaction to this end of Daphnis.

Mortal women spurned by a man for whatever reason and taking revenge are usually the ones who might actually kill themselves out of love and regret for what they have caused; Cleobolea and Antheus (again one of Parthenius' Love Romances) are a good example of this.

Generally, our versions of Paris and Oinone's stories do actually not follow Daphnis' story. The closest to this idea of a spurned/betrayed nymph taking revenge is in Konon's Narrations, but there it's not for Paris necessarily leaving her (though she does try to take revenge for that, too, sending their son Korythos to seduce Helen to stir jealousy in Paris and cause something bad for Helen). Instead it's for Paris murdering their son (though he doesn't know Korythos is his son). "[...] and prayed (for she was inspired with prophecy and the knowledge of preparing potions) that he would be wounded by the Achaeans and, unable to find treatment, would ask for her."

This is as close as we get to a nymph remorselessly exacting vengeance - except Konon's story ends like all the other versions; Oinone, though she first refuses her aid, changes her mind near instantly.

Parthenius (citing Nicander and one other author) doesn't even have Oinone pray for the wounding of Paris as vengeance:

"[...]She however said that she could tell that for the moment indeed he was wholly in love with her, but that the time would come when he would cross over to Europe, and would there, by his infatuation for a foreign woman, bring the horrors of war upon his kindred. She also foretold that he must be wounded in the war, and that there would be nobody else, except herself, who would be able to cure him[...]"

Here she literally knows she will be abandoned and says so, and bids him come to her when he's injured. It's not until after Paris has done exactly as she has already foretold that he would that she is unhappy with him. And as always, when he gets injured she first refuses him and then immediately changes her mind.

Both Parthenius and Ovid in Oinone's letter in his Heroides has some sort of variation Paris swear he loves her and will never desert her and (in the Heroides only) if he does so, he should be punished. And again, I think it's curious that this never truly seems to be actually what happens - or if it does, Oinone ends up not wanting this retribution/restoration of her divine honour, and ends up killing herself for regret and love.

No one wants to be left behind, if they're still in love - as Oinone clearly is. It's no wonder she's hurt and angry, and who can really blame her for taking revenge? Except she doesn't actually want the consequences of that revenge.

And whether to consider Paris and Oinone fully and properly married (they never exist as a married couple in human society!), he does at least go cleanly from one to the other, with divine sanction backing him up. Which is more or less necessary if you should be able to leave a relationship with even a minor divinity against her will, unless she's fine with letting you go.

(Kirke is clearly happy to send Odysseus on his way the moment he asks. Kalypso does not want to, and Odysseus needs several other gods to override Kalypso's will - and he still doesn't trust her not to lash out at him before she takes an oath that she won't!)

Oinone, at least, doesn't need Paris. She isn't a mortal woman existing within mortal patriarchy, even if the divine patriarchy still exists, of course. She still is less vulnerable within it, especially when her paramour is a mortal. It's just that she loves him, even when he's out of her reach, and because of that, she steps clean out of her aloof position as a (minor) divinity to his mortal, and (unfortunately) embodies the role of a mortal woman who has lost her love by her own hands.

[moon-ttokki-x]

stupidly perfect - (best friend!bang chan x reader) part 4

pairing: best friend!bang chan x reader

summary: the aftermath of the fight, as well as another disaster, unexpectedly brings you and chan together .

genre: idol!au, mentions of eating, drinking, mentions of injuries, medical supplies and processes, mentions of self-neglect (chan forgets to use chapstick lmao), my poor minho :( , jisung chews his nails . . . bad quokka !! if i forgot anything (i probably did), comment and i'll add <3

a/n: part 4 everyone cheer !! gonna make a masterlist soon (lie) !! div by @ferretmilkshakezzz

skz masterlist | skz prompt list | part one | part two | part three

Chan walks home in the rain.

It's still thundering down like the skies have opened up, and the sensible part of him tells him to go back to your place and apologise, reason with you. Smooth a bandaid over your wounds, stroke a hand down your shoulders, make it all better like he has so many times before.

But he doesn't.

He keeps walking with his head down, the rain dripping off the slick strands of his hair, dripping into his eyes and falling unpleasantly down the front of his shirt, though it's already soaked beyond repair. It's freezing; so unbelievably cold that his skin is beginning to ache all over. The rain drives into his skin like a thousand tiny needles made of ice.

He grits his teeth and keeps walking. Time passes by in a shower of darkness and wet misery, and before he knows it, he's back at the dorm, shivering on the doorstep as he waits for Jeongin to open the door. His hands fly to his biceps and he stamps his feet, shivering and chattering as the door opens.

"Hyung?" Jeongin says, peeking around the door. He looks so cosy; oversized hoodie and sweats carrying the lingering scent of an evening hot drink. "What- You're soaking! Did you change your clothes...?"

Chan nods and steps inside, exhaling a puff of almost frozen air from his lungs. Jeongin disappears down the hallway in a whirl, presumably to fetch a towel, and Chan bites his lip harshly as he takes in the sudden sereness of his surroundings.

It should be no surprise; he lives here. But the way everything is set out, the placement of the furniture and little items on the shelves coupled with the rich scent of cocoa and soft blankets suddenly makes him shiver in a way he can't explain. And he knows it's not from the cold or the clammy wetness slicking his body.

He shouldn't be in here.

He should be outside, in the rain, in the cold, shivering and curling in on himself in the dark street. He should be out there, so blinded by the mist and the fog that he has no idea which way is where.

Because he deserves that. Not least because he literally blew up in his best friend's face and stormed out of their house.

Along with a few other things, he thinks bitterly.

"Here," Jeongin says suddenly, thrusting two towels in his face. Chan takes them and his younger member stands by worriedly, fluttering around like he's not quite sure what to do. "What happened?"

Chan just shakes his head, flinging drops of water like crystals from his hair. Turning, he slips off his waterlogged shoes, toes off his socks, and then trails down the hallway like a phantom. Albeit a very wet one at that.

Jeongin stares after him in utter confusion.

.

Chan hisses as the hot water hits his skin.

It's a welcome change from the wet cold he was drenched in earlier, but it feels strange, the difference in temperature. Like pouring boiling water over frozen bones, they don't immediately thaw.

His temper does, though.

Groaning, he leans his head on the tiled wall of the shower; it's steamy from the condensation, as are the glass walls. His hand comes up to lightly tug at his hair, trying to remove the waterlogged feel of it. Like he can just rinse it all off.

Resting his forearm on the tiled wall, he sighs and turns the shower temperature a little hotter. He's been standing under the stream for who knows how long, but he can't quite bring himself to reach for the handle and turn the water off. Not yet.

His forearm slips against the tiles and knocks unpleasantly against his chest, almost knocking the breath out of his lungs. Standing up abruptly, his vision is blinded by the hot stream of water and he hisses before slapping the handle. The water jet turns off and he rubs at his eyes with a wet fist before sighing and stepping out.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he steps out of the bathroom and jolts.

Hyunjin is sitting calmly on the bed; his long, elegant form is swathed in a dark hoodie and a pair of basketball shorts. He doesn't look cold despite the weather outside; though inside the dorm, warmth hangs in the air like a thick woollen blanket.

Stumbling and fetching up against the bathroom doorframe, Chan hisses before tossing a can of deodorant at his friend from the dresser. It hits his knee with a metallic clang before rolling under the bed. Hyunjin stares after it with a look of mildly piqued interest.

"Didn't know we were throwing aerosols to deal with our problems now," he remarks dryly before gesturing to the bathroom. "You took a while in there."

Chan huffs and sits down on the bed, feeling a lingering drop of water slide down his spine as he leans over, elbows on knees. "I wouldn't have taken as long if I knew you'd be here. Did Jeongin let you in?"

"No," Hyunjin says sarcastically. "I climbed seven stories and then broke in through the window."

One hand meets the bridge of Chan's nose, rubbing to ease the tired tension set between his brows. "Minho's humour is rubbing off on you."

"Minho-hyung wouldn't have done what you did."

Chan scoffs and moves to the dresser, slipping off the towel and replacing it with a pair of sweats, a tank, and a hoodie, all black. Hyunjin turns his back without being told, sighing as he twists his ring around his long, knobby fingers.

Feeling the weight of his friend on the mattress next to him, Hyunjin turns back and is met with Chan sprawled out on the mattress, rather like a fish after the tide has gone out. He's left flapping and dying on the sand.

"I'm guessing Y/n told you what happened," Chan says, his tone dead and tired.

"She called me crying, saying that you exploded at her and then left."

"Yep. You idiot."

Chan makes a strangled noise, throwing his hands up in the air and then letting them collapse by his sides. They bounce against the mattress. "I- That wasn't how it was supposed to go."

Hyunjin tilts his head. "She also got pissed at me because I let you use my phone to text her. So..." He lies down next to Chan, nestling in the duvet underneath him. "We're both in the wrong."

Closing his eyes, Chan rolls onto his side and regards his friend with a cool, stony stare. "You haven't said anything, have you?"

"About what?"

A pointed glance.

Hyunjin scoffs and looks up at the ceiling. "No. But I think you should."

"I can't. She hates me. Even more, if that's humanly possible. It'll just make this mess worse."

"Then at least apologise to her, hyung."

Chan sighs; a deep, weary exhale betraying the depth of his exhaustion. "Fine. Just- I need time to think."

Hyunjin nods. "I'm sure she does as well. For now, rest, and try to avoid getting sick. We have a lot to do in the next few weeks." He puts a hand on his friend's shoulder as he sits up. "Go and eat something, and then sleep. Let's put this mess aside for now and clear our minds. Everything will be fine."

"Do you think so?"

Hyunjin grins. "I know so. Now quick, go and eat something before Jeongin scoffs the whole pantry."

.

Chan can't focus.

Not on his schedules, or his training, or his dancing or singing or socialising or any other one of the multitude of roles he's somehow picked up along the way of being the leader of Stray Kids.

He wakes up. He sleepwalks his way through dance and vocal practices, half-asses his production work, does a photoshoot or an interview which he can't find it in himself to care about, does some more practice, and then crashes into bed.

Today is no different.

"Jisung, like this," Minho pushes his younger member's arms into the right position for the choreography, demonstrating the step. "Make sure you pop your chest before moving here- And then like this, see?"

"I don't get it."

Minho groans playfully, tugging lightly on Jisung's hair before moving to correct Seungmin's position. "Chan-hyung will show you."

Jisung looks across at his leader, who is standing half-dazed in the middle of the floor, clearly not up to the task. Which is unusual, along with the fact that he hasn't bothered to wrangle the rest of the kids into practicing like normal.

Hyunjin and Jeongin are fighting in the corner, and Changbin is on the floor on his phone. The rest of the members whine and complain, halfheartedly dancing, and Minho rubs a finger across his temple as his gaze follows Jisung's.

"Okay, fine," he sighs. "Just work on the first part. Seungmin, go do it with him."

Both members trail to the back of the room, beginning to run through the choreo again. Minho stalks up to his leader and tugs lightly on the stiff brim of his cap.

"Hyung," he says firmly. "I know you're tired, but we have a lot to do. Just this practice, then we can take a break tomorrow. But you have to help me out, okay?" He gestures to the chaotic mess of members around the room. "They only listen to you, and you're standing here like a ghost. Help me."

Chan is silent.

"Hyung," Minho says insistently, peering into his leader's face. "Help me."

No answer.

Minho sighs, turning away and feeling rather crestfallen as he begins the first line of choreography again. There's a strange feeling bubbling in his stomach, one that's unpleasant and rather reminds of when he was younger, being told off for breaking something or getting into a scuffle.

It's not like Chan to brush him off.

He didn't really brush me off, Minho thinks. Just kind of- Ignored me. I wonder if something's wrong. I heard Hyunjin saying he went to go talk to Y/n... Maybe they fought. Ah, this isn't ideal... We have a comeback soon.

How am I supposed to keep everyone in line? Chan-hyung won't do it.. Maybe he's upset with me, too. Maybe I should be doing better. I'll come back and practice tonight.

"Minho-hyung, we did the first part." Seungmin emerges from behind him, rolling up his sleeves. Jisung nods dutifully next to him. "How do you do the switch part where we move? Because I go forward to centre but Jisung-hyung and I have to move around each other..."

Minho racks his brain for the choreography. He knows this. He knows every step, every turn, every switch. He could do it in his sleep.

But suddenly, he can't remember.

Panic rises in his gut like bile creeping up his throat. He clears it awkwardly and clenches his fists as he desperately attempts to recall the steps. His vision blurs and he fiercely wills the unexpected emotion away.

"Take a break," he says, strained, cheeks pink in embarrassment. I don't want to be upset in front of them. "We'll do the next part tomorrow. I don't think we're going to get much done today anyway."

Seungmin and Jisung share a strange look before nodding quietly and wandering off.

Minho bites his lip as he watches them go. A sharp tang erupts in his mouth and he whimpers suddenly, tasting blood.

A pathetic feeling settles on his shoulders before it's overtaken by a wave of anger and frustration. His gaze flickers to Chan. He's still standing in the middle of the floor. Dead to the world.

Minho's gaze is afresh with determination.

I'm going to do better, hyung.

.

There's a knock on the door.

"Come in," Chan calls wearily. He's been sitting slumped against the desk, flicking a pen with his finger. It rolls up, then down, then falls to the floor as Hyunjin steps into the room.

He closes the door quietly, hovering in the doorway.

Chan doesn't look up; he doesn't need to. He's known his members long enough to recognise whose footsteps are whose, and he sighs and picks up the pen before turning to regard Hyunjin with a tired gaze.

"You again," he says, though there's no maliciousness behind it. "It's late."

"Hey," Hyunjin replies quietly. "I know. Can we talk?"

Chan gestures to the small leather couch behind his chair. Hyunjin sits and shifts uncomfortably. Clearly it's taken a lot of courage for him to appear at the studio, and his hands twist around each other in his lap.

"So," Hyunjin begins awkwardly.

"I haven't told her, if that's what you're wondering," Chan says calmly. He feels anything but.

Hyunjin doesn't look up, but the slight set of tension in his shoulders relaxes slightly. A puff of air escapes his lips. "I don't know if I should tell her. It feels wrong."

"It isn't wrong," Chan reasons.

"It is, kind of. Knowing that all this time..." He trails off, clearly guilty. "I just don't know when the right time is. Especially because you two fought."

"We didn't fight," Chan groans. "I just- I wanted to tell her so badly, but after the restaurant, I didn't know how to process things, and once I found out about this..." He gestures vaguely. "It was just so frustrating to not be able to tell her the truth."

"You need to, Chan."

"I know-"

"No," Hyunjin says firmly. "You need to really tell her. Sit her down when she isn't busy, apologise, and explain everything. Like we talked about last night. She deserves to know that much at least. It'll be good for you too."

Chan tugs off his cap. "What do you mean, good for me?"

"Hyung, you've been running on nothing but fumes since you stormed out of Y/n's place that night. You haven't been able to focus on anything, and we're falling behind. The comeback is soon."

"I know, I know," Chan sighs, slumping in his chair. "It just seems selfish to tell her how I feel, considering..."

The studio falls silent. Hyunjin stares at his friend with a look of empathy, though it's tinged with sadness in the dim light of the room. "You really do love her, don't you?"

Chan nods sincerely. "I know someone else does too. That's why I held back... It was so frustrating, Hyunjin. You have no idea..."

Hyunjin has the grace to look sheepish, running a hand over his dark buzzed hair. "Do they know that you know? The other person who likes her..."

"I don't think so."

Hyunjin leans forward, tugging curiously at the neckline of his shirt. "Do you know who it is?"

He nods again, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "It's-"

"Chan-hyung!" Jisung throws open the studio door, red-faced and breathless. "Come quick!"

Chan stands up immediately, Hyunjin following. His brow furrows in concern. "Jisung, calm down. What's wrong?"

Jisung's eyes widen fractionally in panic. "Minho-hyung is hurt."

.

He was just trying to practice.

One late-night dance practice wouldn't hurt, right? It would do him so good, help him clean up his moves before the rest of the members came to their senses and realised that he isn't competent enough to be teaching the group choreography.

Great work, Minho. Absolutely fantastic.

Now he sits in the middle of the dance studio floor, cradling his ankle between white-knuckled hands. The rest of the members flutter around him, along with some of the medical staff, and the door flies open once more as Hyunjin and Chan stride in, faces set in worry. Jisung follows, chewing anxiously at his nails.

"Minho," Chan says, kneeling by his side. He exhales sharply as his fingers lightly touch his shin, inspecting the damage. "What happened?"

"I'm fine." He fights a grimace.

"What happened?" Chan's voice is stern, strained with worry. He has every right to be; Minho's ankle is swollen and red, already bruising, but he feels a sharp pang of sadness at his leader's tone. And it somehow seems to hurt more than the injury itself, even if just for a moment.

He seals his mouth shut, pressing his lips together, and looks away.

"He was doing a late-night practice of the choreo," Jisung explains, moving to put an arm around Jeongin and Felix. "We came in a little later because I forgot my phone, and he was on the floor."

"He must have fallen doing the dance break," Jeongin says quietly, meekly nestling into Jisung's side.

Minho interjects with a sharp cry of pain as one of the staff members presses ice to the joint. It stings and aches and feels a little better all at the same time. His throat bobs, swallowing thickly, and a bead of sweat blooms a damp, circular patch on the cotton of his shirt.

Chan goes tense and calls out several instructions to the staff, his previous misery clearly forgotten. Turning back to Minho, his eyes flit all over his body, worriedly checking for any other injury. "You shouldn't have been up this late. And alone, too; you know bad things happen this way."

Minho flinches at his sharp tone. "Hyung-"

"No, Minho," Chan says firmly. "Promise you won't do it again. And tell me why you did it in the first place; it's not like you to be up so late to begin with-"

"I was trying to make you happy, hyung," he interrupts miserably, biting his lip.

The members fall silent, and the staff members bustling around with medical supplies and phone calls have the good grace to do the same.

"What?" Chan's tone is disbelieving.

"You were so down, so upset, and I thought it was because of Y/n, but I tried talking to you earlier during practice and you brushed me off, and it felt so hurtful, and I just wanted to do better, hyung," Minho cries, words tumbling out of his mouth. "I thought it would help- I wanted you to be proud of me..."

Chan presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. It ends in more of a sigh, and he crouches closer to the younger member, reaching up to brush a strand of slick hair out of his face. "I am proud of you. I always have been, no matter what you do or achieve. And I want you to know that I'm sorry, Minho," he stands up. "Everyone. I'm truly sorry. I've been so lost in my head and I forgot what matters to me. I'm going to fix this, I promise."

"Fix his ankle first, hyung," Jeongin chides him bravely, clearly fed up. "Apologise later."

The rest of the members groan and agree, and even Minho fights back a familiar smirk, grimacing as one of the staff adjusts him gently.

Chan lets a grin crack his mouth, the first real bubble of happiness rising up in him, even though it's small. It feels strangely good to be told off, snapped back into his senses.

He adjusts his dark cap on his head. "Right."

.

"Hey, Minho."

He looks up from the mess of blankets and cushions swaddling his figure on the couch. Blinks once, and then shuffles upwards to peek out at you with curious, catlike eyes.

"Y/n."

Grinning, you shut the door quietly and step into the dorm, pocketing your spare key. Toeing off your shoes, you place them neatly by the rack and then move over to where Minho is on the couch. "I bet you didn't hear me, hmm?"

He shakes his head rather shyly, clearly pleased to see you. He picks up the remote and pauses the show he's been watching. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Min," you say gently, placing a bag on the table and carefully bringing out a box. "I bet your stomach missed me too... I brought donuts."

You don't even get to finish your sentence before Minho dives into the box. Laughing, you stand up and pet his soft, messy hair before moving to the counter and placing a tote bag on the marble. "Leave some for Jisung. I'll get him to drop this stuff off too..."

Minho looks up, licking sugar and cinnamon from his fingers. "What's in that bag?"

"Chan's clothes," you say quietly. "He forgot them when he came to see me."

There's a silent moment of understanding where you move back to the couch and Minho dusts the remaining sugar off his hands. But it doesn't feel awkward like you were afraid it would.

You clear your throat. "How's your ankle?"

He sighs and closes the donut box, lifting his ankle from the couch. It's wrapped in a soft, white bandage, and you can still see some of the bruising peeking out like rose petals. He turns it side to side, inspecting. "It's better. I'm still not allowed to dance, though. Two more weeks."

You touch his knee. "I know it's hard not being able to dance, Min. Good on you for resting, though... I was convinced they'd have to tie you up- Ow."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he lightly pinches your arm. "Not funny. It sucks being stuck here all day."

You sigh and lean back against the couch. "Surely they'd let you come down and watch the practices, at least."

Minho shakes his head. "No. I'd just get tempted to try and get up. It's better this way."

You nod. "I see."

"You know," he continues quietly, "I missed you."

"I know, Min-"

"No," he interrupts. "Not just because of this," he gestures to his ankle. "I missed you when we went out with the guys and the dance crew girls. When we used to leave the company at 3 am to get snacks. I missed you hanging around us. I was upset about it for a while before I realised there was something going on with you and Chan."

"I ruined everything," you sigh. "If I hadn't burst out that night at the restaurant, none of this would have happened."

"And then you would have gone years without getting a chance to tell him how you feel," Minho says reasonably without missing a beat. "Better now than later, where things will be more complicated."

"Things are already complicated."

"Even so, it's better to do it now," he says earnestly. "At least you don't have to waste time pretending you don't love him. The feelings are out, Y/n; now you and Chan just have to work them out. And there's no reason you can't do it together. Like you both always have."

You're quiet, and before you can open your mouth to reply to his unexpectedly reassuring statement, the door opens.

Changbin and Jisung enter the dorm, clattering and bickering about a reworked lyric of the upcoming album's title track. Felix follows, laughing and attempting to stop the argument, finishing off the remains of a coffee. They stop mid-argument, gazes locking with yours, and both fall silent. Someone else steps into the dorm, shutting the door and pulling a dark cap off his head.

"So," Minho says uncomfortably, "I might have forgotten to tell you 3RACHA and Felix were coming over tonight..."

"Minho." You hiss at him.

"Sorry, sorry, it slipped my mind... Injuries and all..."

You filter his excuses out and stand, brushing yourself off. "Hey."

"Hey," Changbin, Felix, and Jisung all awkwardly reply in unison.

Chan turns around in surprise, tugging out his earphones. Clearly he wasn't expecting to see you standing in the middle of the room, and you see his throat bob before he stuffs the headphone cord in the pocket of his hoodie, wary.

No one moves.

You take the first step and pick up your bag, nodding a goodbye to Minho before you move past the couch. "I'll, um- I'm going now. See you later. Feel better, Min."

You fly out the door, fumbling to pull it shut behind yourself. Chan hasn't moved as you went past him, and the scent of his musky, faded cologne follows you in wisps as you head down the corridor with hasty steps.

Shit, you whine inwardly, pressing a hand to your hot cheeks. That was so awkward. Talk about bad timing.

You turn to the left and walk down the corridor before turning to go down the steps to the main floor, focused on leaving as quickly as possible in your embarrassment. In your haste, you miss a step and your stomach swoops unpleasantly downward as you trip.

Time freezes.

Gasping, you open your eyes, and look down at the staircase below. One foot hovers in the air, the other at such an angle behind you that you can't possibly understand how you aren't falling.

Someone pulls you back and you flail, only now feeling the strong, warm grip of a hand on your wrist. Both hands meet a solid chest as you're pulled back to face whoever it is that caught you.

Chan gazes down at you, expression unreadable.

He has total power over you right now; if he lets go, you'll tumble down the stairs. There's a small half of his expression that rather makes him look like he wants to do it.

But the other half...

"Chan," you whisper.

"Planning to break your ankle like Minho?" He doesn't smile, his arms warm and steady around your waist. You're on your tiptoes, body pressed against his as you attempt to balance, but it's impossible without him. "You didn't have to leave."

"I-" You gulp. "I had plans."

"Liar," he says without hesitating. "With who?"

Silence.

Your heart pounds in your chest, smacking against your ribs like a wild, caged animal trying to escape. You look away, giving up without bothering to defend yourself, and Chan exhales.

"Could've just let me fall," you say suddenly, tone bitter. It bubbles out of you unexpectedly like fizz from a shaken can of lemonade.

He blinks, dark eyes regarding you with a calm gaze. He doesn't look as nervous as you thought he would. "Why would I do that?"

You scoff quietly and look away.

"I do care, you know," he says, his voice quiet. One hand comes up to gently brush away a strand of your hair. "Just in case you forgot."

For a moment, everything feels right; the brush of his calloused fingertips, the warmth between you; it's like it was before. Calm and comforting and familiar and Chan.

Before.

Part of you wants to break away from the touch, toss your head and shoo him away. But you don't. You let his hand gently move to touch your cheek, skating down the textured, smooth surface of your skin, caressing the curve of your jaw.

You don't pull away when his breath fans over you, stirring your hair in a faint wave, smelling of mint and coffee and something unmistakeably sweet.

You don't push him back when he lifts you gently, just enough to have your toes touching the ground, and steps back to the top of the landing, carrying you as if you were a doll.

You don't scoff at him when he lets a hand fall to the small of your back, guiding you closer, his touch magnetic and sweet and wildly addicting and so, so warm.

Like the Chan you know. The before Chan. The best friend Chan.

The one who always brought you little flowers when you were both younger to make you smile.

The one who excitedly sang and played his guitar for you on cool summer evenings.

The one who held your hand when you crossed a busy street.

The one who seamlessly included you into a group of friends without trying, because he knew it'd ease your worries of being alone when you first moved to Seoul.

The one, who right now, is gently pressing his mouth to yours in a hesitant, almost dazed action of searing contact, pulling away slightly. As if he's afraid.

Without thinking, you let him tug you gently closer, and one hand meets his collar, softly pulling him in. You didn't even notice when your mouths met.

You feel dizzy.

His lips are chapped; you pinch him lightly on the shoulder, chiding him for the self-neglect, and he chuckles against your mouth. He knows what you're saying.

He always does and he always has.

He barely has time to murmur your name in a blurry, heated whisper before the unmistakeable clatter of footsteps down the hallway makes you both pull back, panting.

Blinking, you and Chan stare down the hallway, fighting to rejoin reality, clinging to each other as your grip tightens on his shoulders.

Your mouth goes dry.

Felix stares brokenly from the end the corridor.

a/n: i hope the wait was worth it . . . nyeheheheheh !!

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[daisiescomelate]

On the rocks

Prompt: pro hero Dynamight finally gets back to his apartment after a long day of work to find the head of the League of Villains drunk and sleeping all over his couch— again.

Content: Katsuki Bakugou/Izuku Midoriya, prohero!Dynamight, villain!Deku, drunk talk, drunk flirting, 4.8k words.

Note: prompt from @/book0bsessedd on tiktok.

div. animatedglittergraphics-n-more - masterlist

Twelve hours of patrol, two assholes that thought themself smarter than the police and one cat getting somewhere where it definitely shouldn't be– later, Katsuki finally arrived at his apartment after a long day of work.

It was close to three in the morning, and there was no amount of caffeine that could keep him up any longer. He was considering skipping his usual shower. It would be blissful if he could scrap out the dirt out of his body, but did he have the strength to stand under the water for a hellful amount of fifteen more minutes? He felt bruised, his palms were itchy, and his leg's muscles kept twitching under his skin begging for some rest.

He took his keys from his pocket and put it on the keyhole, turning it carefully. He tried being as quiet as possible as to not trigger the granny that lived beside him and get yet another complaint from the landlord. That old hag had the hearing of a fucking dog at age of a hundread and something, and was in the top five of Katsuki's pains in the ass.

The door clicked as it unlocked, and he pushed it open slowly, might not the creaking of the door bother the queen of Tower Two.

Once inside, he slipped the strap of his bag with his hero costume out of his shoulder and dropped it on the floor with a thud. The dim blue lights of the bright advertisement screens from the buildings of central Tokyo were enough for Katsuki's tired eyes to see inside the apartment so as to not bump with anything in the dark. Taking into account the threat of the headache that haunted his temples, he decided not to turn on any of the lamps on his way to the bathroom down the hall.

After quickly attending to nature and washing up his hands and face, and the sweat that sticked to the back of his neck, he lazily walked to the living room area ahead. Making dinner this tired was off the table, but he definitely was in need of something to drink. He scratched his hair, fighting the weight of his eyelids as he moved in direction to the kitchen area when something on the edge of his vision called his attention.

Katsuki's instincts kicked in. He froze mid step, turning his head to the right, looking for the source of the movement. Most of the apartment was still immersed in shadows. His body tensed, setting ready for a fight, but he stood still and listened. The movement had come from the living room. Katsuki’s position right behind the edge of the hall was a safe enough blind spot away from the light, if the intruder was not alerted by Katsuki’s sounds while coming in he might have a chance to catch them off guard.

A noise followed, a soft bump against the floor. Katsuki frowned at the idea of a poor bastard showing up to rob a hero’s house, unaware of that hero’s foul mood to top. A ruffle and a louder bump, and this robber already felt like too much of a new baby. 

An idea rushed through Katsuki’s tired brain. He pictured a white ball of fluff and cursed internally. There was a neighbor's cat that had the habit of hopping around the building's balconies. Was that thing still willing to mess with him? No matter how hard he tried to spook the thing away, it kept showing up at his apartment as if it owned the place. Katsuki’s eye twitched at the idea of spending the next few days trying to get rid of coats of white fur off his furniture. Again.

It better be someone that’s after the television.

Katsuki made sure to stay in the shadows. He approached in silence, with eyes wide open, actively trying to discern the shapes across the room. He made his way towards the TV area with the couches, the small table and his CD collection.

One.

Step.

At a.

Time.

He was an arm away from the sofa, raising a hand into the air, ready to blow away whoever had decided to intrude in his apartment –cat included. Then he was close enough to stretch his neck up and look over the back of the couch, but before he was able to…

"Mmm." Someone moaned.

And Katsuki knew exactly who it was.

"Son of a bitch." He cursed, secretive be damned.

He lowered his hand. His quiet steps became loud, angry stumps on the wooden floor. He marched around the couch to see the man in a black suit spreading along the cushions with his head resting on the arm of the sofa and one hand falling off the edge holding onto a bottle of whisky.

"Wake the fuck up." He commanded with a stern voice.

The drunkard mumbled some incoherent bullcrap and ignored him.

Katsuki greeted his teeth. He grabbed the sleeping man by the collar with his fist, and pulled him up an inch away from his face. He did so with enough strength and violence as to wake the man out of his stupor and make him open his eyes wide with surprise. Katsuki then spat his next words with murderous intent,

"I SAID. WAKE. UP."

He used the hold he had on the man to pull him off his furniture and into the floor. 

The man cried a short scream of pain as his head hit against a low table. The vase and the books that were piled on top of it fell into the floor.

The intruder lifted his hand to hold the top of his head, patting around to look for blood where he received the blow.

"Kacchan, so mean...", the man whined.

"Get the hell out of my house." Katsuki had both hands pressed into fits to his side with knuckles going white and a vein pulsing on his neck. He used all his strength to prevent himself from screaming again.

Probably the old hag was already up. Fuck.

The man sat on his knees on the floor with difficulty, his back facing Katsuki. His shoulders moved under the black silk vest as if they were sour after the landing. The smell of liquor distilled from him and filled the apartment after being swung in the air like that. It stinged at Katsuki's nose and only made his anger grow further. Slim figure on black and white, the man did move and stretched with the smooth motions Katsuki could relate to a cat’s. The way he took his time, slow and uncaring, spoke of his arrogance.

The man looked to the side, his profile just an inch away from the light.

"We haven't seen each other in so long Kacchan, I missed you." The man's smooth voice claimed.

"You pulled out this shit two weeks ago. Get out."

Katsuki looked back at the couch and saw the man’s jacket at the foot of it. He picked it up and threw it over his face. It fell over the man’s head. He immediately pulled it off and let it fall over his lap. His silhouette pulled up a hand to his face, and traced down over his neck and chest. When he seemed to have completed the look for external injuries at Katsuki's manhandling, he turned his whole body to face him.

The colored lights from the streets illuminated the freckled face and the hollowed green eyes that look so out of place on the innocent looking features. This same face replicated on news broadcasts weekly and stared the front page of newspapers even more often, never followed by flattering words.

Deku. Number One on Japan's list of most wanted criminals, leader of 'The League' and most dangerous villain since the downfall of All For One.

And Katsuki's prime pain in the ass.

"No." The head of the list of the most wanted criminals answered with a pout.

Katsuki shook with rage. He stomped to be in front of him and picked him up by the neck again. The drunk shrieked, holding Katsuki's wrist with both hands and looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Don't throw me again Kacchan! It hurts!"

Katsuki held him higher, lifting the man's weight from his feet. He threw daggers at the guy's pathetic cry of mercy, and used his other hand to pat over his clothes.

He traced over the man’s vest and pants, pressing and sliding his palms over the soft material. The clothes were cold to the touch, and their price could be felt on the tip of the fingers. The man twitched and tightened his grip on Katsuki’s wrist. Katsuki moved his hands from his waist up to the side of his ribs and the man arched his back at the contact.

"Ah, Kacchan.” A soft whimper. “What are you doing?" His voice made Katsuki's hand ache with the need to punch him in the face.

If the room were bright enough and he got to see a blush on the man’s face at this exact moment there would be no God he could pray to that could save him from Katsuki splitting his skull open.

"Shut up." He cut him, but it didn't stop the despicable man from wiggling and starting breathing at a weird pace.

"Kacchan—" he called as Katsuki found what he was looking for on one of the pockets of his vest. He took the phone out and let go of the grip of his hand, making the man fall flat into the carpet at his feet.

"Oh..." he complained.

Katsuki ignored him. He walked away from Deku to get closer to the window. He noticed the lock was broken.

Asshole, always messing with my shit. How many locks will I have to replace before you fucking die.

Katsuki thought of looking for the man’s wallet —the one he had felt in his back pocket-– and take what at this point was rightfully his. But before doing that, there was something else he had to get done. He held Deku's phone with both hands and typed the password to unlock it.

As the screen saver popped off he heard the guy’s voice calling him from behind.

"Kacchan, I did miss you but I also came to tell you some good news." Deku dragged his words and tried to push himself to stand out, but if the deaf noise was any indication of anything, it wasn't working for him. Katsuki didn't bother to look in his direction.

He scrolled across the menu and opened the contact list, looking for a particular name. He found it and typed a short message before hitting 'send'.

me

Pick me up at XX and XX street.

2:47 a.m.

Deku cursed under his breath as he struggled to get up, pushing Katsuki’s table out of the way. The vase that had fallen to the floor rolled to the other side of the room and hit the wall.

The phone dinged and lit up when less than three seconds later came the reply, followed by another three in quick succession.

Dabi

you are going to get us in so much shit one day for going to see that damn hero all the damn time

i swear to god

i'm going to start a fucking strike

i'm on my fucking way.

2:48 a.m.

Katsuki blocked the phone again and turned around to see Deku ultimately getting onto his feet. The guy lifted his head and Katsuki could tell how drunk he was by the way his eyes shined glossy.

"I don't want to hear any news from you." Katsuki replied.

He crossed back the distance that separated them, pulled the neck of the vest making the drunk’s stand wobble, and forced the phone back into his pocket. As he was taking his hand away, it was suddenly grabbed. Hard. Deku held Katsuki's hand with bone breaking strength and moved it to keep it close to his heart.

Katsuki held his features in place not to show how much it actually hurt.

Deku reclined closer to Katsuki's face, moved his other hand to cup one of his cheeks and whispered sweetly to him,

"I got rid of that gang that was bothering you so much."

Katsuki bit the inside of his cheek. The gush of fear running down his back and into the pit of his stomach was an acid warning to be aware around the switch that turned this person into what they actually were. A reminder. This person was dangerous.

He shouldn't be surprised. He knew what gang he was talking about, a bunch of losers that had started a home business of quirk trading. Tracking, kidnapping, and selling people whose quirks could be of interest to creeps all over the country.

"They really had some nasty stuff going on, Kacchan. I'm glad you didn't have to get involved." Deku said.

There was no point in asking how he knew about the case the agency and the federal police had asked him to help with. Katsuki was long used to this guy knowing not much, but everything when it came to him.

"You're not gonna ask me about how I did it, Kacchan~?" Deku sang. His feet wavered and he had to rethink his stand so as not to fall over the carpet again. The motion got him an inch closer to Katsuki’s face.

"I kind of feel like—"

"So what do you want?" Katsuki cut him, knowing to the fact that guy did nothing for the kindness of his heart.

Deku locked eyes with him again and smiled. A drunk smile, the kind that was eerie because the thoughts behind it weren’t clear.

At Katsuki's question Deku gave a step forward, forcing Katsuki to give a step back. Then another, and another. Katsuki followed –prey to the grip that wasn’t budging–, knowing that fighting back might get the psychopath to break his arm all together. In the end, the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch and he was sitting on the cushions. Deku forced him down by sitting his weight over his lap.

Deku finally let go of Katsuki's hand and face. He sat up straight, looking down on him. Katsuki’s muscles spasmed at the scrutiny of what they recognized as a predator. Katsuki’s mind was on their side, but Katsuki’s heart stinged.

Deku’s smile was sweet as he spoke.

"Say 'please' and I'll tell you."

But being frightened would never be enough to make Katsuki play anyone's games.

"Where are the people they abducted and what happened to the assholes?"

"Ah...", Deku seemed to remember something and pulled his head back to look at the ceiling. "The assholes... they had a wall of pictures and info on you. It pissed me off so much. So they are kind of... gone."

"Gone?" This fucker.

"Yeah", Deku lowered his eyes and lifted his thumb to caress the wrinkle that appeared in between Katsuki's eyebrows. "Don't worry about it so much, as you said, they were just assholes."

Katsuki pressed his jaw tight, telling himself it would be a waste of time to try to get more answers about what might have happened to those people. He wasn't sure he wanted to know either.

Memories flashed with the images of corpses on the ground and pools of blood. 

A few months back, police got intel on the League’s hideout and Katsuki was called in to take part in the breakin. When they arrived everyone was gone. The mole was dead. And Katsuki didn't know what was worse, that he knew the guy and he actually thought he was cool, or the relief that overcame him when the tight grip on his chest came undone at the sight of the empty basement.

Katsuki pushed that feeling and the revolving memory to the darkest corner of his mind where it belonged, focusing back on the depths of those green eyes.

“What about the victims?”, he asked. Izuku moved his hands to play with the locks of Katsuki's hair, his eyes on the ash blond strands, running them on the tip of his fingers as if hypnotized by them. 

“It’s all sorted out~. The hostages are in a warehouse all out of danger. I came to give you the location”, Izuku stopped playing with the hair on his fingers, hugged Katsuki’s neck and said, “In exchange for a kiss~”

“You have finally lost it.”

“Have I?” Katsuki smelled the whiskey on his breath along with a sweet perfume that should not linger around a bloodthirsty villain. “What will Pro Hero Dynamight not do for a defenseless civilian?”

Katsuki bit his tongue and refused to grace him with a response. Izuku brushed a lock of hair away from Katsuki’s face. The man lowered his face so their noses would touch. “Your worst weakness is your kind heart”, he mocked him.

That face, so close, was the thing of his nightmares. The features that hide the ghost of a kid he met in another lifetime.

Katsuki closed his eyes.

The way those eyes had changed, from the glistening green of summer leaves to the darkest shade of a night forest, was a disturbing reminder of what had been lost.

He remembered the night at the camp during his first year at UA. That night while attempting to run and get to safety, he was separated from his group of classmates. He was alone, looking for the path that would take him back to the camp while staying alert to any villain that might intercept him on his way. With his senses heightened out of fear, he could feel the crunching of the fallen leaves as loud as his heartbeat. It’s hard to tell how he heard nothing coming from behind before the voice called for him.

‘Kacchan’.

He turned around to see and the walls of his heart caved in. As much as he had played this scenario on his head since the day Izuku disappeared, he was not by any means thrilled for how the scene had unfold. From all the emotions that flooded him, there was one that was the loudest and the clearest: Izuku had died a long time ago.

Katsuki opened his eyes again, focused on every feature that had changed, and held onto them with all his will. He, the one that had refused to believe Izuku was forever up and gone, switched to grief when everyone else that had known about the kid cried that he was back.

Are they blind? He thought back then. This is someone else on his shell.

“No kiss, no location.” Izuku said with a giggle on top of him.

This person was the only thing that was left of the kid he once met.

“No location, brain injury.”  Katsuki answered back.

The only thing he had left of him.

“Kacchan!” he whined.

‘Kacchan!’ Echoed on his mind.

“Shut the hell up, you're going to wake up the neighbors.” He snapped.

Izuku dropped his head over Katsuki’s shoulder and released a loud, frustrated sigh. After a moment of silence, he tightened his embrace around Katsuki’s neck and moved his knees to sit higher into his lap. Katsuki tensed immediately.

“If you try anything weird I swear–”

“Do you ever miss me, Kacchan?” He asked.

Katsuki’s voice died on his lips. His heart was pierced by an emotion he didn't want to name.

Miss Izuku?

For years.

To this day.

“Why are you wasted?” And what was he the one who had to suffer the worst of it every time?

“I was lonely”. His voice was so faint, so fragile. It had a dangerous resemblance with the voice that still lingered on his ear after so many years. The voice that had asked him to play with him in the sandbox and by the river close to their home, the voice that called for him at school and always tailed after him during the breaks.

Those words in that voice were too much to hear.

“What about all your minions? Go bother them.” Katsuki attempted to move away to feel less suffocated but it was no use.

Izuku tangled his fingers around the heat at the back of Katsuki’s head. He pulled his hair slightly and groaned in annoyance.

“My minions don’t shut up about plans, and plans, and plans. They want me to do so many things for them. I’m the one that should be doing the bossing, but they nag me all day long. Think plans by yourself if you’re so smart, idiots.”

He raised his head to look at Katsuki.

“They are so stupid. I have to make backup plan on top of backup plan because they keep messing things up. It's exhausting.”

He let his head drop down again. Katsuki felt the cold tip of his nose tickle his neck.

“What do they want you to plan for?” What the hell do we have to prepare for next?

“A bunch of bullshit.” His voice was muffled by the clothes of Katsuki’s shirt.

Katsuki’s frustration at his answer must had being obvious because he later added,

“Don’t worry Kacchan, I’ll make sure they don’t make too much of a mess.”

“Yeah, it’s not them I have the most worries about.” His voice was tinted by grudge.

In the following questions Izuku’s voice was heard next to his ear. “Why? What did I do?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“...”

Izuku seemed to think harder about the matter and something must have clicked because his tone suddenly turned soothing.

”You meant that thing that happened over the weekend?” He laughed, “Didn’t I tell you they keep messing up all my plans? Those people blew that place on their own. I contained the damage as best as I could.”

Izuku’s fingers moved from his nape to his back to play with the edge of the neck of his shirt.

“I like heroes, Kacchan. I don’t hurt them just because.”

Katsuki felt him scratch over the line of his spine with his nails.

“Is that damn anti hero faction that makes them believe they can think on their own. They’re a pain in the ass.” A hiccup. “Some of the assholes even found one of my merch hideouts and burned it. If I ever find out who it was I’m going to kill them!” Izuku pulled another strand of hair, hard enough to almost rip it off Katsuki’s head. Katsuki had been well aware of his every move, but that took him by surprise.

“For fucks sake–! Lower your voice.” He lifted a hand to hold the hand that was gripping his hair. “And let fucking go off me.”

“But Kacchan–!”

“Enough with the drunk talk, loser!”

In a daze, Izuku was caught by Katsuki’s eyes. He stared, then smile, and the whisky was clear on his voice when he leaned his weight over Katsuki’s chest and said,

“Almost half of my Dynamight merch was in there. I only have a hoody left. And some photocards and some posters. I had to fight so many people to get those.”

“You’re disgusting.”

He giggled.

“I can’t help it. They piss me off sometimes. So many people drooling over your pictures.” He frowned at the memory and seemed to suddenly recall something that had particularly bothered him. “Like that picture of you on the subway!!” He complained and hit Katsuki’s shoulder with his fists in protest.

“Shhh!!!” Katsuki hushed him and held him by the throat in a silent threat.

“They have no right!” Izuku whispered dramatically loud. Another drunk thought and a tender feeling overcame the anger. He smiled, his nose touching Katsuki.

“Other heroes are cool, but Kacchan is my hero.”

How much Katsuki wished the idiot would shut up, delivering stabs to his heart and playing oblivious to it.

‘Kacchan is my hero.’

Nothing could be said with the lump he had on his throat. He trembled at the thoughts of the dreams he had every night, a kid with fear in his eyes and an iron hope in his voice when he stated to the evil people,

‘Kacchan is going to come save me’.

Katsuki's will waivered. That kid in the park that had gone missing. The kid that was all alone there waiting for Kacchan for their play date. But Kacchan decided to ditch him that day to go to the arcade with the other kids. He looked at the man on top of him, at that face that hid the core of all his guilts, and he ached with the need to lift his arms and hold him in place so that face wouldn’t disappear on him again.

What would have happened if he had shown up back then?

Would the kid be safe? Would they both have had the same fate?

Would Katsuki be dead by now too?

But would that mean they could have stayed together?

Katsuki’s only weakness was that kid he left in that park.

‘I'm sorry’ always lingered on his tongue, but sorrys couldn't turn back time.

And still, the words urged to be said, and pushed his lips open on moments like this when those eyes mushed his insides and had his soul begging. ‘I would go back and go with you if I could. I would leave with you if I could.’

But as the words wanted to spill out of his mouth, a sound ripped the veil of the moment.

Izuku frowned at the tune that cut the silence and moved away from Katsuki's shoulder. He sloppily felt around his pockets to look for his phone. He took it out and looked at the screen confused. Katsuki snatched it out of his hand and read the message on the notification bar.

Dabi

im here

where the fuck are you

 3:25 a.m.

“Your ride is here, get off of me.” Katsuki pushed Izuku off of his lap. He grabbed the bottle  that was still on the floor next to the sofa, walked a few steps to pick up the jacket laying over the carpet, and then held Izuku's arm with a strong grip, dragging him to the window.

Izuku mumbled his protests but Katsuki didn't pay him any mind. When they got to the window, he slammed the bottle on one of Izuku's hands and the jacket in the other, before pushing the window open. He point out and said,

“Get out.”

“But why by the window?”, Izuku complained without complying.

“You got in by the window. And you are not leaving by the fucking door. No villain is going to get spotted leaving my apartment by the front fucking door.”

Izuku looked back at him with an angry expression. None of the honey on his eyes remained and Katsuki was targeted with a laser gaze as if he were any other piece of trash on the sidewalk dirtying his shiny fancy shoes.

Izuku looked away from Katsuki, insulted. He murmured something under his breath. Katsuki could distinguish some of the colorful words that were directed towards him. He put on his jacket before approaching the window.

The villain prompted one of his feet to the frame, getting ready to jump, when Katsuki suddenly grabbed him by the collar.

“Give me the location”, he ordered.

Izuku huffed, laughing at the only man that had the guts to believe he could be ordered around by someone. He shoved his hand under his jacket and took out a wrinkled piece of paper the side of a small notepad before trusting it in Katsuki's hand. He refused to look at Katsuki or honor him with a ‘goodbye’ –not that it would be welcomed– and shoved away the grip that held him from behind.

Katsuki let go of him and didn't say anything more as he saw the villain drop from the tenth floor of the building.

When Izuku was finally out of sight, his body could finally relax.

Katsuki sighed, and closed the window. He was about to lock it when he remembered the broken latch. He clicked his tongue and cursed at the idiot that left once again without paying for the damage he had caused. Giving up to his tired muscles he turned to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. 

He gave himself a moment to breathe. When he felt his hands stop shaking he looked for his own phone in his pocket to message his boss while helding Deku’s note still folded on his fingers.

me

my source handed me another tip

3:46 a.m.

ponytail (boss)

Hit me.

Whoever this person is, one day we will have to condecorate them.

3:48 a.m

[princesssarisa]

In Cinderella Tales From Around the World, I've now reached the versions from the Middle East, Africa, and South Asia: Iran, Palestine, Nigeria, Angola, Sri Lanka, India, and Kashmir.

*The Iranian variant, The Story of Little Fatima, starts out much like the Italian La Gatta Cenerentola, but then turns into a "mother as animal helper" variant, with a middle section like the Portuguese The Hearth Cat. At the beginning, Little Fatima's female teacher tricks her into murdering her mother (!!!) so she can marry her father, then abuses her. But the mother's spirit comes back as a cow and shows her daughter unconditional love by magically aiding her chores. One day the cotton she's supposed to spin falls down a well, and the cow-mother advises her to go down after it, where she'll meet a div who will urge her to do bad deeds, but to only do good deeds instead. She obeys, and the div gives her a glowing moon on her forehead and star on her chin. The stepmother wants the same for her own daughter, so she sends her into the well, but Little Fatima lies to her stepsister that she should do all the bad deeds the div orders. As a result, the div gives the stepsister donkey ears and a tail. From then on, the story becomes a standard Cinderella, with the cow providing Little Fatima's finery, except instead of a ball, festival, or religious service, the special event is the wedding of a princess, the sister of the prince who falls in love with Little Fatima.

*The Palestinian variant, Thaljiyeh ("Snow-Maiden"), starts out like Snow White, with the heroine named for her skin white as snow, and her mother dying in childbirth. As Thaljiyeh is abused by her stepmother, a kindly jinniyah (female jinn) in a well takes pity on her and fills her bucket with jewelry, but when her two stepsisters draw water from the same well, the jinniyah fills their buckets with mud, stones, and insects. So they take Thaljiyeh's jewels and finally throw her out of the house. Fortunately, she comes to the home of a poor old woman who turns out to be her maternal grandmother and who takes her in; but unfortunately (so it seems), on the way she loses a red leather shoe that was a gift from her dead father. But of course a prince finds the shoe, and we all know what happens.

*The Tender-Hearted Maiden and the Fish from Nigeria is much like the Portuguese Maiden and the Fish – the heroine gets her finery from a fish that was meant to be cooked but which she set free. But in this version, unlike the Portuguese version, there is a wicked stepmother, and the fish really is a fish, not an enchanted prince. The heroine's love interest is a king, and the festival where he falls for her is a celebration of Eid al-Fitr. After her marriage, the stepmother and stepsister sneak into the heroine's bedroom at night and cut off her hands (!), but the fishes magically restore then. When the stepmother and stepsister try to publicly mock the new queen for having no hands, they only make fools of themselves.

*The Angolan variant, Fenda Maria and Her Elder Brother Nga Nzua, is very unusual. The heroine is an orphan who lives with her older brother, but when he marries the Lord Governor's daughter, his wife turns her into a slave. But in a forest she meets an old woman with leprosy and nurses her, and as reward, the old woman gives her boxes full of riches and dresses. The ending is unusual too: the heroine doesn't marry. Instead, when the Lord Governor discovers that the elegant lady who came to church is his son-in-law's sister, he punishes the couple (at the heroine's request) by dissolving their marriage and giving his cruel daughter to another man. From then on, the heroine and her repentant brother live together in prosperity, thanks to her magically-given wealth.

*As for the Indian versions, they vary widely:

**One is basically Finette Cendron without the ogres – a poor man abandons his daughters, they find a deserted wealthy house and take up residence there, and the oppressed youngest finds finery to wear to church in the house – but with a post-marriage ending. The sisters' steal the heroines babies and make her husband think she gave birth to inanimate objects, which drives him to lock her in a dungeon, but years later her children come back as beggars, and milk miraculously flies from their mother's breasts to their mouths, revealing the truth and leading to a happy ending.

**In another, the heroine is a princess who lives happily with her father and younger brother, until a seemingly-kind widow neighbor persuades her to persuade her father to marry her. The king resists a long time, but finally gives in, yet he warns his daughter that if her stepmother mistreats her, he'll do nothing about it. Sure enough, the new stepmother sends the prince away to boarding school and treats the princess like a slave. But the princess is helped both by a cow, who secretly feeds her, and by her dead godmother's spirit, who brings her finery for a dance at another king's palace. After the princess marries and gives birth to a son, her stepsister drowns her in a well and takes her place, but as in the Grimms' Brother and Sister, the princess's spirit comes back every night to nurse her baby, and when her husband finally sees her and catches her by the hands, she comes back to life. The stepsister is brutally executed and the stepmother driven away.

**The Kashmir variant follows the "mother turns into an animal" formula, but with a few differences from the norm. The mother turns into a goat when she thoughtlessly breaks a magical taboo against eating when her husband isn't home, the Cinderella character is just one of several siblings who are all mistreated by their stepmother, and instead of losing a shoe at a special event, she loses a nose ring while washing herself in a river. The ring is swallowed by a fish, which is caught and cut open by the king's cook. The king searches for the ring's owner and marries the girl, which lets her support her siblings and free them from the stepmother.

*@faintingheroine – I think Nihal would like some of these variants. Especially the Indian one where the heroine is neglected by her father and her little brother is sent away to school, since it parallels her own situation, and the Angolan one where the heroine doesn't marry in the end but gets her brother all to herself again.

*It seems strange that this book includes so few Cinderella stories from Africa. There must be more that exist!

Coming up next: tales from East Asia, beginning with what may be the very first complete Cinderella story, Ye Xian.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @adarkrainbow, @themousefromfantasyland