#what else has there been in my life worth living for. aside from the company it brings and the growth i get to be part of.

[sheepgirlmaidtummy]

i think i have this fear of being seen as a liar i think. like. everyone does it. and as a kid i stole stuff all the time and the way that was dealt with kinda just fucked with my head. do people see my kindness and my compassion as manipulation? am i read as someone trying to tear down the walls so i can get something while ur guard is down?. idk why someone thinking that of me makes me feel so miserable like. what if they were right? ive made mistakes before.. whos to say they arent right about this time? i dont want to stop being kind but it scares me to think about that.

[beneathstarryskies]

Word Count: 2,986

Summary: At his low point, Geto decided to take a change on striking up a conversation with someone at a cafe. This conversation drives him into finding a new purpose.

Warnings: smut, fem!reader, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, depression, AU!Geto (he doesn't become a genocidal maniac), pussy saves lives, also Nanami makes a brief appearance

A/N: Shout out to my babygirl @actuallysaiyan for helping me stay inspired to finish this ❤️

Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. 

It’s a brutal, mind-numbing cycle Geto has been stuck in for so long he doesn’t know if he’s capable of doing anything else. No matter what kind of path he tries to imagine for his future, it also comes down to the same cycle. He doesn’t recognize himself anymore. He never sees Satoru or Shoko. He feels stuck. Like a caged animal being prodded with sticks and struck by stones. 

It’s like watching a car crash and being unable to look away. Or worse it was like hearing the gunshot and then seeing Riko fall to the ground. That feeling of utter helplessness has never left except now he’s the one holding the gun and he doesn’t know where he’s going to point it. 

“I’m fucking done,” he hears Kento Nanami’s voice. The utter disdain in his voice is what grabs Suguru’s attention. Nanami is carrying a duffel bag on his shoulders, and Suguru sees him in something aside from his uniform for the first time.

“Kento, what’s wrong?” Suguru asks, setting aside his soda to walk outside. When Kento turns to face him, there’s an anxious look in his eyes. His jaw is set tight. 

“What are we dying for, Suguru?” Nanami asks. “I mean seriously?” 

“To…protect…” Suguru winces at the lack of conviction in his words. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Nanami rolls his eyes. “I’m out of here. I want to fucking live, okay?” 

Live. 

What does a life without sorcery even look like? Nanami has always been a bright spark of intelligence, and he’d shyly told Suguru a few months back he’d been accepted into college. Suguru wonders if he’d ever be able to get into college, but somehow he doubts it. 

He watches the younger sorcerer get into the car and then leave. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see Nanami again, and part of him hopes the answer is no. He wants Nanami to live as he said. 

Geto goes to grab his soda from where he left it, then he starts towards his dorm. He can’t stop thinking about what Nanami said. When he returns to his room, he changes clothes instead of moping around as he had planned. He puts on black pants and a sweater before going outside to get on his motorcycle. He rides into the city, not knowing exactly where he’s going until he ends up in front of a coffee shop. He doesn’t know why he stops here, but it’s better than wandering. 

He walks inside, and heads to the counter to order a coffee. He’s standing at the other end waiting for it to get done when he notices you. 

You’re sitting in a table by the window, scribbling away in your notebook. He can hear you humming softly, a song he vaguely recognizes. He’s never been one to approach strangers like this, but he likes the look of you. You’re pretty and you seem just unaffected. 

“Hi,” he says shyly as he approaches you with his coffee. “Can I sit?” 

“Oh, sure!” you smile softly and move your things. He’d expected you to look around at least to see if the other seats were taken before accepting him into your space, but you didn’t. “Nice bike,” you say sweetly. “I saw you pull up earlier.” 

“Ah, thanks. Sometimes I think it takes more work to keep her on the road than it’s worth.” 

“Everyone needs a pet project,” you shrug. 

Geto grins but hides it behind taking a sip of his coffee. You close your notebook and slide it into your bag. 

“I’m Geto Suguru,” he introduces himself. You smile and introduce yourself as well. He can’t remember the last time he spent more than five minutes in the company of a non-sorcerer. Ever since what happened at the temple…Seeing all those people cheer for Riko’s death…The thought of non-sorcerers made his stomach turn. 

“Do you go to the university?” you ask, and he realizes he has ventured close to the college. He wonders if it’s the same one Kento will be attending. 

“Me? No,” he chuckles. “You?” 

You nod, “Yeah, I’m actually between classes right now.” 

“What are you studying?” 

The second the question leaves his lips, a spark of excitement enters your eyes. You begin rambling animatedly about your studies, your future plans, and sharing pieces of knowledge you’ve picked up. His heart swells with affection as the way you smile when talking about it. Then, your smile fades into shyness and you look down at your coffee cup. 

There had been a time 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that,” you say shyly.

“No, please, don’t apologize,” he smiles. He wants to reach out to take your hand. Not just for your comfort but for his sanity, he wants to seek connection. His hand is already on the table, fingers stretching out in search of yours. He stops himself, but barely. He closes his fist and pulls his hand back. If you’d noticed, it didn’t dull the sparkle in your eyes. 

“I have to go to class, but would you like to exchange numbers?” you ask, and you’re already digging your notebook out of your bag again. 

“I’d like that,” Suguru grins as he watches you scribble your name and number. You pass it to him, and he feels a jolt of happiness when your fingers touch. It’s been so long since he felt someone’s touch. 

“Will you text me, for real?” you ask as you put your notebook away again. 

“I really will,” he smiles and carefully folds the paper.

Suguru returns to campus feeling something shift inside of him. He wants to live. 

Satoru is leaning against the wall beside the door to Suguru’s dorm. He’s looking at his phone, feeling so secure he doesn’t even look up to see who is approaching. 

“Where have you been?” Satoru asks. “I’ve been waiting forever.” 

“I went out on my bike,” Suguru opens the door. “Are you coming in?” 

“Yeah, duh,” Satoru follows him inside his dorm. It’s been ages since they hung out, but it’s never awkward between them. Still, Satoru notices something is different about Suguru. He seems relaxed. “So what have you been up to?” 

“Oh, you know, exorcise, consume, repeat…” Suguru wonders what will happen to the curses inside of him. When he leaves the jujutsu world, he guesses the curses will remain a part of him. 

“Nanami left,” Satoru says as he sits on the bed. 

“I know, I spoke with him.” 

“Too bad…I like Nanami,” Gojo pouts. 

“He hates you.” 

“No he doesn’t, he just pretends he does.” 

Suguru smirks, “Alright, Satoru.” Suguru leans against the wall, studying Satoru carefully before speaking again. This time he’s quieter, more serious. It’s a tone Satoru knows requires attention. “Have you ever though about leaving?” 

“Where would I go?” Satoru shrugs. 

“I suppose it’s different for you.”

Unlike most sorcerers, Satoru benefits greatly from being a sorcerer just by being who he is. He’s afforded almost any privilege imaginable. Suguru doubts Satoru would know how to function as a normal member of society. 

“Are you going to leave, Suguru?”

“I don’t know, Satoru.” 

**

You were shocked when Geto texted you. Part of you had figured he’d forget your shared moment in the coffee shop. You spend weeks chatting back and forth. You like him. He seems kind and intelligent in ways different from most of the people you meet. He hasn’t pushed for a date or in-person meeting again. He doesn’t ask for nudes or surprise you with a dick pic. You almost wonder if you’ve imagined him. 

Then, one night, after weeks of texting, he asks if you want to go out the coming weekend. You’re shocked, but thrilled, to receive the invitation. You agree to meet at a restaurant for dinner. 

For the next few days, Suguru focuses on settling into his new apartment so it’s not a mess on your date night. He doesn’t want to assume you’ll come back to his place, but his time as a sorcerer taught him to be prepared for any possibility. 

His preparation proves to be a good idea on the night of your date when he talks you into coming back to his place. It didn’t take much convincing on his part. You’ve been wanting to spend more time with him ever since you started texting. He holds your hand as he opens the door to let you inside. 

His heart is racing as he guides you to the couch and lets you settle in. You notice right away how sparse the decoration is. 

“Can I get you a drink?” he offers. Truth be told, lately, he’s been drinking more than he should to fight off the loneliness of living outside of a dorm for the first time in so long. 

“I’m okay,” you smile and pat the spot beside you on the couch. “Come here.” 

He feels nervous as he sits next to you. His hand wraps around yours and he squeezes gently. A smile crosses your face as you look up at him and say, “This has been a great date.” 

“I agree,” he blushes. “It’s been a while since I went on a date.”

Your eyes move down to his mouth. He sees your tongue dart along your bottom lip and he knows what you want. A pang of panic hits him. He has a fear of you being able to taste the disdainful curses on his tongue. You lean closer, your lips parting with anticipation. At the last moment, he turns his head away so you end up sloppily kissing his cheek. You’re mortified at the mistake, then your heart sinks into your chest when you realize he’d dodged your kiss on purpose. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” you swallow hard, trying to clear the lump in your throat. 

He watches your face drop. The look of sadness in your eyes breaks his heart. He holds your hands and tries to think of a way to explain this to you. He doesn’t know how to explain the fear of you being disgusted by the taste of his lips. He kisses your knuckles. 

“I apologize,” he says softly. 

“Do you not want to kiss?” 

He blushes, “I do…But…” 

“You’re scared?” 

It’s a shot in the dark, but your aim is surprisingly good. Geto’s cheeks burn and he looks down at your intertwined hands. 

“I am terrified,” he admits. 

“We don’t have to,” you assure him. 

Your understanding only makes him want to kiss you more. He leans in. His lips are gentle and tentative as they press against yours. His fingers dig into the couch cushion in anticipation of that moment when you pull back to look at him with disgust when you taste the curses on his breath. He gasps in a mixture of shock and relief when instead deepens the kiss. In the split moment of openness offered by his gasp, your tongue slides into his mouth. His hand moves from the couch cushion to cup your cheek, and he moans as he eagerly drinks up your kiss. The sweetness of your mouth provides a temporary relief. He finds himself chasing your lips when you pull away, a shy smile tugging at the curve of your cheeks. 

“Was that scary?” you ask. 

“Not at all,” he groans and kisses you again. 

You tangle your hands in his long black hair. When you reach the roots, you tug gently. He moans against your mouth, shoving his tongue between your teeth to seek out your tongue with his. 

The thought crosses his mind that you must taste this good everywhere. He has to find out. He nuzzles against your neck and his tongue darts across your skin. His large hands eagerly knead at your hips. 

“S-suguru,” you whimper. 

He pulls back, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed hesitant at first.” 

He pulls you closer by your hips, “I know, I’m sorry. I want to continue if you do.” 

You smile, “Yeah, I want to.” 

“Alright,” he blushes. He stands up and offers his hand for you. Then, he leads you to his room. He keeps it quite neat and minimalistic in his space. 

He closes the door before grabbing you again. His hands move over the soft material of your dress before carefully lifting it over your head. He takes a moment to admire your figure standing before him draped only on your bra and panties. His admiration is disrupted by the feeling of you tugging at his shirt. He smirks and lifts his arms. You have to stand on your tiptoes to lift the shirt off completely, then it joins the pile with your dress. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers before seizing your lips again. His hands move over your body in a greedy exploration before finding your bra clasp. He opens it with ease and his fingers are deft to guide the straps down your arms. 

“Am I going too fast?” he asks. 

“No, it’s good,” you kiss him sweetly. 

He carefully lays you down on the bed, his broad form hovering over you. You notice the scars littering his body, but he doesn’t give you much of a chance to look further before he lowers himself to your chest. His breath is warm on your skin, heated up further by the open-mouthed kisses left along the swell of your breasts. He feels your hands in his hair, tugging him towards your sensitive spots. He relinquishes his curious exploration in favor of learning which spots drive you crazy. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against your stomach. His teeth scrape against your abdomen before he spreads your thighs. Your panties cling to your wet folds. He pulls the flimsy garment off before kissing down your thigh. 

“You don’t have to,” you whisper, suddenly seeming so shy. 

“What?” he looks up at you. He furrows his brows when he realizes what you mean. “I want to, baby.” 

Want is a rather weak word. He needs to taste you. 

“Are you sure?” 

He kisses your mound, “I’m certain.” 

You nod shyly, and he is all too eager to bury his face between your thighs. His tongue laps at your slit, hungry grunts falling from him as he relishes the taste of your arousal. He doesn’t taste curses. He doesn’t taste anything but the musky sweetness of your cunt on his tongue. 

The pleasure rolls through your core in intense waves with every smooth lick and suckle. You tremble in an attempt to keep still as he teases out more and more sensations. His strong hands keep your thighs spread wide so he can fully focus his attention on the feast laid out before him. He stays buried between your thighs until he notices the tell-tale signs of you being close. Your tense thighs and needy whines tell him all he needs to know. He pulls away from your cunt just as you’re about to cum. 

“Fuck, look what you’ve done,” he groans as he sits up on his knees and cups the prominent bulge at the front of his pants. “You still wanna keep going?” 

“Yes,” you whine. 

He pushes his pants down past his ass before slotting himself between your legs. He reaches down to stroke his cock a few times, then drags the tip between your soaked folds. The head prods at your hole, and he begins pushing in carefully. He watches your face contort with pleasure as he fills you. Once he’s bottomed out, he brings himself lower so your chests are pressed together. You can almost feel his heart racing against your chest. 

“You feel so good,” he kisses your forehead and nose. 

His hips begin to rock at a slow, sensual pace. Your nails dig into his back as you lock your legs around his waist, moaning at the pace he’s keeping. Your kisses are sloppy, more tongue than lips. Your moans pass between your mouths like a breath. 

The lingering feeling of your earlier orgasm he’d deprived you off makes the perfect foundation for what’s to come. Already you can feel it, twisting in your core. His cock hits the sweet spot inside you with precision. 

“Suguru, I’m close,” you moan. 

“Good, baby. Cum on my cock.” 

With a few more deep thrusts, you’re crying out his name in unbridled pleasure. The way your walls clench around him as you cum is nearly enough to drive him over the edge. 

“Can I cum inside you, baby?” he asks, his voice husky. Without much thought you nod eagerly. 

He braces one hand against the pillow by your head, squeezing the material as he starts chasing his high. His pace is sloppier and quicker now. He bites his lip so hard it almost draws blood, then at the moment of climax his mouth parts in a silent cry. His cock throbs as he releases inside you. 

As you both come down, he nuzzles against you. You’re both panting to catch your breath. You caress his back until he lifts himself up again. He carefully pulls out of you and lays next to you on the bed. 

“Stay with me,” he murmurs as he gathers you up in his arms. 

[dalchiid]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 34

A story of obsession, fear, and lust. You're a maid whose Masters forbid you in meeting their guests for the night but your luck runs dry when you run into them and catch the attention of Lord Hoseok himself. He's smitten from the beginning and thus, your fate has been decided.

Pairing: Yandere Vampire Hoseok x Fem/AFAB Reader

Word Count: 7,532

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Possessive, Angst, Fear, Blood, Biting, Dub-Con, Eventual smut

Will add or remove warnings based on what's in each chapter.

I do not condone the behavior being exhibited in my work. This is solely for entertainment purposes and I hope if any of you are ever in a situation like this that you have the chance and ability to run away from it. Take care out there.

DO NOT copy, edit, or repost my work anywhere.

Chapter 34 Warnings: Yandere, Possessive, Obsession, Mentions of Necrophilia, Slight Angst

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You're bored. Plain and simple. It's been two days since you've stayed locked up in Hoseok's room. He keeps you company but you're bored. You miss the library, you miss the garden, you miss being free. Or whatever constitutes as free being in your position and all that. No one has come to visit you aside from Namjoon and Yoongi two days ago when they wanted to make sure you were okay. Now you text them to try and keep in touch.

Right you texted Yoongi.

You were hesitant at first but you wanted some advice on how to push the negative things aside so you can freely live your life. He knew you were talking about the incident with Jimin and how you wanted to be free from it. He was honest and told you it's hard. When your trust in someone is destroyed there's only so much you can do. He also talked about his issue with Jiyoo and how he tries to push on because if you don't you'll never be able to live your life and he was right.

Jimin is living his life without a care of what he did to you. You're sure he's upset though because Namjoon told you that Seokjin and Yoongi told him that as punishment he's not allowed to bring his girls to the house. Not for a long while at least. He would need to find some place else where he could get away with it. Outside of that he's living life while you hide away and that wasn't fair.

You thanked Yoongi for the talk. He loves Jimin because he's his brother but he doesn't excuse his antics which you appreciate. Now you're sat on Hoseok's bed looking at the TV while pursing your lips. You're deep in thought. You think it's about time you set foot outside of here.

Turning towards Hoseok you give him a look to which he gives you one back where he's questioning you. His brows raise slightly and it's then you choose to speak.

"I want to leave the room."

Hoseok's brows raise higher. "You want to leave?"

You nod your head. "I think it's about time I do." You shift a little and look down at your phone. "I talked with Yoongi and he's convinced me that I should. Jimin gets to walk around while I stay locked up. It's not fair and I don't want my life to be ruled by his fuck up. My fuck up."

Hoseok stays silent as you speak to him. He just watches you and waits until you're done talking for him to do so.

"First of all it's not your fuck up. You're innocent in this. Second, if that's what you want then okay. We can leave the room whenever you want."

You look down at your phone as you think. You feel like you're not a brave person and can easily pull back on this but Yoongi's words inspires you to at least try. If not for you then who? Hoseok? No. You have to do this for yourself otherwise when the time comes for you to leave you'll never be able to because you're too busy hiding away from someone that isn't worth your time.

You've made a decision and look back up at Hoseok. "Can we um... can we go now?"

Hoseok sits up off of the headboard. "Now?" He nods a little. "Okay. We can do now."

You mimic him and nod. "Okay."

"Let's get changed then. Maybe we can go out too. Get something to eat and watch a movie. How does that sound?"

Not being locked up sounds good so you nod again.

"Then let's get ready and we'll check online to see what movies are out."

Sounds like a plan to you. You just don't want to be locked up anymore. Even if that means bumping into Jimin for a brief moment.

The two of you change clothes quickly. He dresses you up in the green and black lace dress he bought you the other day with flats and he mirrors your colors with his own clothes - a green satin, short sleeved, dress shirt and black jeans with his sneakers. When you realize he wants to match with you it makes you uncomfortable. You know he's doing it to show off that you're a couple, but you know if you say anything negative about it it's going to bother him and in turn he'll say and do something that'll bother you so you stay quiet.

His hand finds the back of your neck where he squeezes it softly. "Ready?"

You take in a deep breath and release it into a sigh. You're taking a moment to calm yourself from any nerves that fill your stomach before you nod. It's more to yourself but Hoseok takes it as a good enough answer. He releases his hold on you and has you trail along behind him out of the bedroom.

Hoseok walks ahead of you as he scrolls through his phone. Meanwhile your eyes are checking your surroundings as if Jimin will pop out to scare you. You wish your senses were as heightened as Hoseok's right now because he stops for a moment to look at you and asks if you're okay.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

You shake your head. "I want to do this. I can't hide forever."

His hand comes up to squeeze your arm in comfort before he slides it down to hold onto your hand.

Looking back down at his phone he extends it towards you so you can see.

"These are what's available in theaters. Anything that catches your attention?"

You grab his phone and slide through the options until you come up with one. When you show it to him he smiles.

"Then we'll watch this one."

To be honest you weren't paying much attention to what movie you chose but you figure it'll be fine. You were just more concerned with who was roaming the halls. The usual help were around but not any of Hoseok's brothers. It brings you some relief knowing Jimin wasn't around and your captor can clearly tell this because he wraps an arm around your shoulders and brings you close.

"I don't think Jimin is home. He's probably off shopping somewhere," he says.

"Or sulking."

Hoseok hums questioningly.

"Namjoon said Seokjin and Yoongi issued a punishment for him. He's not allowed to bring... his girls to the house."

"I see."

The two of you make your way downstairs and it takes Hoseok a minute before he answers.

"Then yeah he's probably sulking somewhere. I'm sure Jungkook doesn't mind this change of events. He did always hate it when Jimin brought them over."

You grimace at the image of Jimin carrying dead women to the house. Did he bring them in body bags or what? You have no idea.

You bite your bottom lip as a question dances on the tip of your tongue. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Me?" Hoseok questions before shrugging. "Not really. Not anymore at least."

You stare at him in disbelief.

"What? Don't give me that look."

"You just said not anymore at least."

Hoseok shrugs as he grabs his car keys. "It's not my business."

"Hoseok."

He stops walking when you do.

Hoseok sighs when he sees how adamant you're being in wanting to have this conversation. He sucks his teeth and looks off uncomfortably.

"Look Y/N I have no control over his life. Do I like that he goes around picking up dead girls to bring home? No. No I don't, but he's been doing this for decades. I don't know what started his interest in it or how he manages to convince the mortician to let him bring home the girls. I just know that this is who Jimin is and there's not much I can do about it other than to complain because his room stinks and it's seeping into the hall."

Your brows furrow as you look down at your feet. Why do you feel so thoroughly chastised? Your concerns are valid. At least you think so.

Hoseok places his hands on your arms and squeezes gently.

"I'm not upset with you I just... I don't like talking about Jimin's odd interests. Honestly, it does make me feel uncomfortable but he's a grown vampire who can do as he pleases. As long as it doesn't impact us negatively then it's fine."

You bite your bottom lip in silent thought.

It still didn't feel right to you but it's not like you have a say in the matter. What does your opinion on the situation mean to any of the brothers? Nothing. Would Jimin care if someone important said something? You guess not because you're sure the others have said something. He just doesn't care.

You look at Hoseok in discomfort. "Do... do your parents know?"

Hoseok slips his hand around your own and pulls you along with him to the garage.

"No actually. They don't." And that's all he says on that before he changes the conversation. "Do you want to eat before or after the movie?"

It gives you the slightest bit of whiplash but you know that means he's done talking about Jimin.

"Before," you say.

You'll stop bothering him about his brother. Maybe that's a discussion you'll have with Namjoon if he's willing. You're just so concerned about the morality of it all. Then again when it comes to morals it's not like Hoseok has any after what he's done to you. Everyone in this family seems to be lacking them to some extent because why else would they tolerate each other so much despite it all? You like Namjoon and Yoongi but they let their love for their brothers blind them. You'd like to think they're capable of holding their siblings accountable when need be though.

On the ride out Hoseok doesn't say anything more and leaves you with your thoughts. He only mentions the restaurant you both are going to is really good and you come to see it's a diner with decorations that make it seem like it's an old-fashioned one. It's mostly occupied by older folk and families with young children. As per usual, Hoseok's presence garners attention and the people try to act as if they haven't noticed his presence, but they sure as hell acknowledge yours and whisper amongst themselves about it.

Hoseok is making things hard for you because the day that you run away you'll be left with limited options. If everyone knows who you are where can you escape to?

The waiter that attends you both leads you off towards a more private area and you're thankful for that. The less eyes that see you the better.

He says he'll give you a minute to choose your orders after getting your drinks and you're left with Hoseok who smiles at you almost dreamily. You hate it when he looks at you like that.

"You look beautiful," he says.

You look down at your menu with a purse to your lips. You can't bring yourself to say anything back. It's almost always better that you don't anyway lest you start an argument with him.

The waiter is quick to come back once you and Hoseok have made your decisions and you order something simple. Something that'll help prevent your stomach from growling in the middle of the movie yet light enough where you won't feel nauseous from being overstuffed. It doesn't stop Hoseok from offering his food because according to him he enjoys seeing you eat.

"It makes me happy to know you're well fed."

You grunt and it makes him giggle.

"Am I really that amusing to you?" The question doesn't come out harsh. You're genuinely curious but with the goofy way he stares at you you wish it would have come off rude. "What?"

He shakes his head softly. "If you could see yourself from my perspective you wouldn't be so surprised at why I find you so fun and beautiful."

You tongue your cheek before looking down at your food.

What are you supposed to do with that? Maybe once upon a time that would have made you blush but now you're left to stew in your discomfort over it. When you bring a forkful of your pasta up to your lips you have to swallow deeply to get it down.

Hoseok stares at you for a moment more before he resumes eating with a smile.

"After the movie is there somewhere else you'd like to go?"

You think on it before shaking your head. "No not really."

Hoseok hums before swallowing. "I just figured you might want to be somewhere away from Jimin."

Your eyes shift to the side with your appetite slowly diminishing. You grab your napkin to wipe your lips and clear your throat in the chatty diner.

"As much as I would like to avoid him I can't always do that. I don't want him thinking he won over me or something."

Your captor raises his brows before nodding his head.

"You sound like Yoongi," he chuckles. "But you're right."

You were picking your words based off of the exchange you had with Yoongi so it makes sense why Hoseok would say that. It's one of the many words passed between you two and if there's one thing Yoongi is good at it's how comfortable he makes you feel. How despite it all - how sure of yourself you are with the right kind of push. No babying and no roughness behind his words of what you could say is wisdom. No secret intentions either and so you take what Yoongi gives to heart.

It's with that thought are you able to finish your food in its entirety. Hoseok doesn't fall behind himself and when it's time to pay for the food the two of you walk up to the cashier slash receptionist where you're greeted by an older woman. She smiles at you both and gives Hoseok a knowing look.

"Did you two enjoy yourselves?"

You and Hoseok nod as the latter hands over his black card.

She rings you both up and as she waits for the receipt to print out she sends that weird look over to Hoseok again.

"You guys make a very cute couple," she says.

Your eyes widen in shock but Hoseok just chuckles before giving her his thanks.

"Your babies will look adorable."

You are stock still before this woman. You're speechless and wish you would have spoken up on the truth before Hoseok happily took in the compliment on your behalf.

Now you also wonder if she knows Hoseok is one of seven Lords that rule over this land. If she does she doesn't show it. She's just so enamored with the idea that you and Hoseok are something more. The matching outfits you wore didn't help.

Hoseok looks the least bit perturbed as he signs the receipt. With one last look the woman's way, she bids you farewell just as Hoseok slips his wallet back into his pocket and grabs your hand.

"Feeling stuffed," he asks cheerily.

Before you can open the car door he does and lets you in. It makes you huff in annoyance but you say nothing on it. He grabs the seatbelt and reaches over to strap you in. After it makes the click sound he leans back to look at you with a smile. It's then you realize he's waiting for an answer.

You give a small nod. "Yeah."

"That's good." Before he can close the door he says one more thing. "If you want we can buy some snacks and something to drink at the theater. Just in case."

He doesn't give you a chance to answer because the door shuts in your face before he heads over to his side of the car.

Heading to the movies is a little far. It takes a couple of minutes more than it did getting to the strip mall. You wonder what the theater is like. You try not to have any grand expectations to avoid being disappointed once you get there but you can't help but wonder. The few times you've seen what it's like inside due to movies and TV shows you've watched gives you somewhat of an idea but you know actually experiencing it will be different. You're sure it must look completely different to the one Hoseok and his brothers have at home.

Once you get there your eyes widen a fraction in awe of the building as Hoseok parks. People are in and out of the building and you note there's a lot of cars around so you imagine it might be a little packed inside. You don't know how to feel about that but it mustn't be that bad.

"You ready?"

Hoseok breaks you from your trance and when you look at him his heart shaped smile makes an appearance.

"Come on," he says. "You'll love the way it looks inside."

And for once you believe in him without question so despite trying to keep your expectations low they rise up within you and you can easily say that Hoseok is right because when you enter the building you're left awestruck.

There are two lines on either side of you that leads to cashiers. They handle the people that come to them and further in a big stand where others help with food and drinks. The place here is massive and along the walls are posters of movies that are either already out or used as promotion for upcoming ones. You also hear the sound of what you assume to be games being played in the background and you're curious to see them.

Hoseok takes you into one of the lines with your hand held in his. Some people stare and you don't know if it's because they recognize your captor of if it's because of something else. The way that some of the women and even young girls stare as if they want him for themselves. There is one man though who stares at you as if you're trash. As if you being together with Hoseok is an abomination in his eyes. If they all only knew how and why you got here and that their Lord isn't who they think he is.

"Can I help the next person?"

You're brought from your inner thoughts and into the present when you and Hoseok are called for. You're met with a teenager who greets you with a smile and warm words as he asks what you're interested in seeing.

Hoseok pulls out his card. "Two for Breaking," he says.

When the receipt is given you also receive a ticket for each of you. You stare at the piece of paper and read the words staring back at you. You don't know why but you feel a little cheery. Not because you're happy to be here with Hoseok but because you're getting to experience something new. It's a bit fun if you think about it.

After receiving the tickets you head towards the stand in the middle of the room and look at the menu that's hanging up above. From snacks to candy to soft drinks and slushies. It's all presented to you and before Hoseok can ask you what you want you've already made your decision.

"I want the cherry slush."

"That's it," he asks.

You nod your head and he smiles. He's quick to order - him choosing a slush himself. When you're done you peek to this side as much as you can to see where the noise from the games are coming from.

"You know," Hoseok starts. "The movie doesn't start until thirty minutes. We can check out the arcade."

"Arcade?"

Hoseok grabs your hand that isn't occupied with your slushie and leads you off to the sounds of games being played.

Behind the big stand is exactly what Hoseok said - it's an arcade. You're left in awe at what you see. From zombie shooters to motorcycles and car races. There are versus systems where you can play against a friend. Even DDR which you're only familiar with it because of some of the video game content you've seen online. Hoseok has to tug on you to get you moving again. You didn't even realize you had stopped.

"Anything that catches your eye?"

You look around you and watch as other people and children play. Almost every thing is being used except for the car ones. You walk up to it and look back at Hoseok who is smiling.

"We can do that one. Just give me a minute."

You stand by the machine and watch as Hoseok goes up to a dispenser. He uses some cash he has on himself and inserts it into the machine and waits until coins are dispensed. You try to see what else he's doing from the angle you're standing at but before anything else he comes back with the coins in hand.

"Here," he says. "We use this to play."

He hands you a few of the coins and encourages you to put them into the slot. As soon as the first coin is registered a loud sound effect comes from the machine and it makes you jump. You look back at Hoseok where he nods his head for you to continue. Though you did notice the way he laughs behind his drink but say nothing on it.

Once all four coins are in Hoseok walks over to place his into the neighboring machine before pocketing the rest.

"We can play against each other," he says as he mounts the car.

You mimic him and sit in the seat and cycle through all the options given to you.

"Do you know how to drive a stick shift?"

Looking at him you raise your brow a little. "I don't know how to drive period."

Hoseok smiles. "I'll go easy on you then."

You frown at him before looking back at the screen.

You weren't expecting to win but Hoseok's comment lit a fire within you that makes you feel competitive. Your nostrils flare as you tongue your cheek Even if you don't win you're going to do your best. Anything to get that stupid look off of Hoseok's face.

Everyone is lined up at the start with engines revving. In a subtle manner you look over to Hoseok and watch as he pumps his foot on the right peddle. You do the same and it's like your car comes to life. The vibration from the sound makes the machine floor tremble beneath your feet. As soon as the game begins you watch from the corner of your eye and see how he moves the gear and the way he holds down the pedal on his far left only to let it go when he shifts gear. You don't understand the reason behind it but it does help in aiding you to mimic Hoseok's moves.

You spin the wheel to get you to turn around corners and even though you're not in first place you're right next to Hoseok who tries to swerve around you so that he can move up on the rank.

There are three laps in total you have to make it around. You're fast but not fast enough since you're driving the fake car in a way that isn't helpful for you, but you're able to hold your own. Hoseok does pass you at some point. Even more so when he suddenly flies forward in a neck breaking speed. Your head snaps toward him in both disbelief and confusion. As if sensing your eyes on him Hoseok looks at you then laughs.

"The blue button," he says.

You look back at your dash and see a blue button that says 'Turbo' on it. Without hesitation you press the button and watch as you shoot forward just as fast as he did; passing everyone around you until you reach fourth place.

The race ends with Hoseok in first and you look at him with a brow raised.

"I thought you were going to go easy on me," you can't help but say.

You're not mad. Far from it actually.

Hoseok laughs and stands up to place a kiss onto the top of your head.

"Sorry about that," he says though you know he's not actually sorry. "You did great though. For someone who's never driven a car before."

You stand up from your seat in the need to want to switch the conversation.

"What time is it?" You would check yourself but you left your phone back at home.

Hoseok looks down at his phone and claims the movie will start in about ten minutes.

"We can head in now and just wait it out."

You shrug your shoulders in response but follow after him anyway to the man standing by taking the tickets.

You didn't notice how chilly the theater really is. Especially in the actual room itself but it's not something that's affecting you negatively. It feels like a nice contrast to the blistering heat outside. It doesn't stop the goosebumps from running up and down your arms though.

Once the two of you are seated Hoseok tries to engage in conversation with you but your mind is focused on the comfy recliner you're lying in. It's almost reminiscent of the one back at Hoseok's. When you kick your feet up you're able to lie down more and look over to Hoseok who has an amused expression.

"Comfy?"

Your cheeks flush with heat as you look away.

He goes to sit back himself after taking a sip of his drink that sits in the cup holder.

"So tell me," he starts. "This is your first time to the movies?"

You grunt before answering. "There's a lot of things that are a first for me."

You don't have to be looking at him directly to know he has a frown on his face.

"I know you said you enjoyed working but at the expense of living? It makes me happy to know I found you when I did. Not only because I fell in love with you but because you needed a break. You needed to be freed."

You sigh deeply.

You really don't want to have this conversation with him. You're not a victim that needed saving. Things only became hectic for you when he came into the picture. Yeah your other two Masters didn't like you but it was never made apparent until after Hoseok made his appearance known to you.

"I don't want to talk about this," you say. Your words were barely above a whisper but you know he hears you just fine.

Hoseok's hand goes to grab yours where he kisses your knuckles gently.

"We don't have to then. Just know I love being your first for everything you're unfamiliar with. Always will be."

You wish the movie would start already. The room is being filled with so many others and by the time they are seated chatter fills the room as everyone patiently awaits for the movie to begin.

Hoseok takes a second to take out his phone to put it on vibrate so it won't ring and he tells you to do the same until you remind him that you didn't bring yours. You had no place to put it and you surely didn't want Hoseok to hang onto it.

"I've gotten you so many clothes but no accessories." He hums to himself. "We'll have to check them out and see what bags you'd like among other things."

Having a purse of some sort would be nice. You didn't think much on it especially seeing as he was the one who went out of his way to buy you these outfits. You showed a limited amount of interest when it came to shopping.

After a moment the lights above dim and the volume from the movie previews blast through the speakers. You take a sip of your drink before placing it back and watching whatever is on the big screen. Movies to look forward to and when the actual movie starts you're already in deep. It's an interesting watch that lasts for almost two hours.

You have to admit that you enjoyed yourself so that when Hoseok asks if you liked it you nod. He's clearly happy to know about that and so he smiles.

Both of you follow after the people leaving the room. You still have some of your slushie so you carry it with you unlike Hoseok who finished his. When you exit out of the theater you're welcomed back into the heat. There's a breeze that passes by but it's a hot one despite it being a little late into the day. The edges of your dress sways along with it as do the strands of your hair that you tuck behind your ears. The sight makes Hoseok smile as he goes to slip a stray strand of hair back behind your ear again to join the rest.

"Is there any other place you'd like to go before we head back home?"

Your answer is almost immediate. You shake your head no. "I can't hide forever."

Hoseok's smile lessens into a more softer one. "Okay. Whatever works best for you works for me too."

And that's how you find yourselves in the car on the way back home. Not a lot of people are on the streets and it makes leaving feel a little less anxiety driven. Enough with the thoughts that someone will come drive up behind you and start a fight. Enough of something eerie watching you from the distance and enough so that you can rest your eyes.

You're not tired. Not the slightest but your eyes just feel a little dry and you do your best to moisten them with each rest of your lids.

Something is playing on the radio. The volume is low so you can't make out what's being sung but it's calming.

Hoseok's hand reaches out for your own and holds it - both hands resting comfortably on your lap. The trees rhat surround you block the dimming light of the sun. Hoseok has to drive with his lights on to be able to see the street better and your head barely rocks against the seat from how smooth the drive is.

You slowly blink again to moisten your eyes again but there's a sudden jerk to the car that startles you. You can hear the way the tires screech as the car comes to a sudden stop and your eyes flip open to see a woman in the middle of the street. Her hands are up high in surrender and her eyes are wide open. She looks terrified and she's saying something but you can't tell from within the car.

"Stay in here, okay?"

Your head snaps at Hoseok. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to check on her. Just stay here."

Your heart beat begins to accelerate faster than it already was. You don't want to be left alone but the woman is clearly distressed.

You grip your seat belt with both hands just as Hoseok opens his door to step out. He walks over to the woman with his hands raised to not alarm her. She visibly trembles and says something more. She lets Hoseok approach her and takes his hand although hesitantly.

He tells her something to which she looks over her shoulder in the direction of trees she must have come out from.

Hoseok looks back at his car before saying something to the woman. She follows his line of sight and shakes her head but Hoseok seems to reassure her that things will be fine because he begins to lead her towards you and helps her into the back passenger seat.

You turn in your seat to look at her and she looks worse from up close. You see stains on her shirt. You can't tell if it's from dirt or blood. She's only wearing a white tank top and underwear and she's shaking like a leaf. Her arms come up to wrap around her as she looks down at her knees that are cut up. She must have fell while running but the question is running from what?

"Hey," you say albeit nervously.

She jumps a little as Hoseok makes his way back to his own seat. For a second, she makes eye contact with you. Her bottom lip trembles like she wants to cry. She's clearly stressed out and you wish you could help her.

Once Hoseok is seated he gives you a quick look before driving off.

"We're taking her to the hospital."

You look at Hoseok then back at the woman who tries to make herself look as small as possible.

Unsure of what to say you bite your lip before settling with an "It's going to be okay."

You don't know what is wrong with the woman. She clearly doesn't look okay and you don't know why. You just know that she needs help so you turn back in your seat and wait in silence until you reach the hospital.

When you get there all three of you leave the car but not without Hoseok pulling out a blanket from his trunk to wrap around the woman. She's grateful for it and you give her a sorry smile that she can't see.

As she is about to step forward she stops with a wince.

"Are you okay," you ask hurriedly.

She lifts up one foot to stare a the sole and grimaces at the sight of blood that seeps from a small but definitely deep wound.

It must have been from the running, you think. She must have cut herself somewhere along the way.

Without hesitation Hoseok swoops her up in his arms bridal style and carries her off into the emergency room. You trail behind him into the hospital where he pleads out loud for some help.

Everyone looks up at him.

"I need help and I need the police," he goes on to say. "This is urgent."

One of the women sitting at the desk tries to understand the situation.

"What's going on here, sir?"

Hoseok walks off towards them in a hurried manner.

"I found her in the street. She's injured. We need the police because she escaped from someone who was holding her hostage."

Your blood runs cold.

There's a flurry of movements that surges forward around you while you stay rooted to the spot. Your breathing picks up as well as your heart rate.

She did what? She ran away? From someone holding her hostage?

You tremble as a cold wave of ice runs over you.

You can barely hear over your thoughts that cloud your mind as everyone goes out of their way to help the woman. She's sat down on a wheelchair and taken by a nurse - away from you and Hoseok. When asked how Hoseok and you know about her he reiterates how you three came to know each other. For precautionary reasons the nurse says you can't come back with her because for all they know she's like this because of you and Hoseok. They want to limit outsiders as they wait for the cops to make an appearance.

When she's taken away you don't feel any relief. In actuality you feel anxious. The world doesn't revolve around you. Of course it doesn't but knowing there are others in your same position out there... It makes you feel just a little bit crazy.

You look around you as those waiting to be seen call up people to tell them of what just happened with the woman that was just brought in. The hospital wanted to limit the amount of outsiders that will come in in search for her. Gods only know what will happen once the media finds out.

You swallow but your throat feels dry.

Was this... You start to think deeply. Was this your chance to run away? You look up at Hoseok who is staring back at you. It's like he can tell what's going on in your mind because he looks like he's about to panic.

"Y/N," he says with a warning tone.

Your eyes shift side to side - looking around you in nervousness.

If this was your chance then fuck the money. Fuck the clothes. You can leave now. Couldn't you?

There's a sudden tingle in your head. It starts off small until something switches off inside of you. Your eyes grow heavy as does your expression. You have no control over it and it's with a little bit of clarity that remains inside of you do you realize Hoseok is controlling your mind.

He wraps an arm around you to keep you steady.

"Let's go home now," he says.

Without the need to fight within you you step out with him into the Summer air. You step one foot after the other towards the car where he lets you both in and drives off.

As you draw closer to home the feeling of the fog over your head begins to wane. Hoseok begins to retract his claws on you leaving you feeling more in control of your body. Once you have full control of yourself you look at Hoseok in disbelief.

"Why would you do that," you ask angrily.

Hoseok tongues his cheek as he continues to drive. He says nothing and it frustrates you even more.

"Hoseok," you start. "Hoseok why did you do that?"

He makes a right turn before pulling up to your prison.

"Hoseok!"

"Because I know what you were thinking," he yells.

Your chest heaves up and down just like his. You're both heated right now. It makes you want to scream.

"You don't know shit," you say.

You both pull up into the garage where he snickers.

"I don't have to be a mind reader to know what you were planning, Y/N. Now stop. Don't test me."

You bring your hands up to your face where you cry into them.

Though he was right it hurt. Not because you care about him distrusting you but because you were so close to leaving until he stopped you. Even though you hesitated. Why did you hesitate? You had a chance to run away and you blew it. You had your chance and you fucked it all up.

Your cries grow louder like a wounded child. Your heart aches and for a brief moment you wish you weren't alive. You're so overwhelmed with negative emotions that when Hoseok goes to hug you you lean into his touch. Your mind and heart seeks comfort but it's from the wrong person.

He rubs your back gently before kissing the top of your head.

"Let it out," he says. "Let it all out."

You cry and cry until there's nothing left but a husk. You feel empty inside and you know he knows that. He probably prefers you that way. That way you won't plan on escaping again.

After another minute he steps out of the car and helps you out with a steady grip on your hand. You leave the garage knowing you won't be able to escape today. It hurts but you'll try your best to remain optimistic.

As you round the corner near the stairs you hear a light chuckle. You look up to see Jimin hanging by the railing for the stairs. Your heart skips a beat and the life you lost back there comes to life in his presence.

You try to hide behind Hoseok who refuses to let go of your hand and he lets you after being spotted by his brother.

"Why the long face?" Jimin asks though you know he's not really interested to know. He just wants to mess with you.

"Jimin knock it off." Hoseok sounds tired.

His brother makes his way down the stairs and sets his sights on you. He smiles despite glaring and it leave you with a bad feeling. Your body is pressed against Hoseok's back who of which is visibly growing stiffer the closer his brother gets.

"Stop." Hoseok warns

Jimin scoffs but comes to a stop a few feet away from you two. His arms are crossed as he cocks his hip out. His demeanor shows that he's calm and composed but his facial expression says otherwise.

"What do you want?" Hoseok asks.

You can tell from the tone of his voice that he's getting annoyed.

There's a slight twitch to Jimin's eye. "You know," he says. "Because of your little pet I've been punished."

Hoseok clenches his teeth and works his jaw. "It's not Y/N's fault why you're an asshole."

Jimin let's out a loud boisterous laugh though it's out of irritation that he does he do it. "I guess I am an asshole but it doesn't change the fact that I'm pissed and your girlfriend is the reason why. Maybe if you didn't hold her up in high regards I wouldn't have bothered touching her with a ten foot pole."

"Do you hear yourself right now?" Hoseok sounds incredulous. "You're the one that fucked up and touched what doesn't belong to you. And guess what Jimin? Actions come with consequences. Learn from them."

Jimin's nostrils flare before giving a wry smile. "Touched what doesn't belong to me?" He laughs. "Do you ever say something similar to Namjoon?"

For the second time today you feel your blood run cold. Your breathing picks up and so does your heart beat.

Jimin doesn't know about you and Namjoon, right? Wouldn't Namjoon be aware of another person's presence the way he has been with Hoseok? There was absolutely no way Jimin would know... Right?

"What are you on about?"

Jimin uncrosses his arms to slip his hands into his pockets. "I'm just saying - they're awfully close together aren't they?"

You bite your bottom lip in nervousness. You're begging in your head for Jimin not to say anything else but you lack the voice to say it out loud.

"Namjoon and Y/N are close because he doesn't give me a reason not to trust him. Unlike you." His hand squeezes yours. "Even Yoongi is on good terms with her. Maybe you should learn from them."

Jimin's glare deepens as his nostrils flare but he says nothing else. He looks off to the side and clearly Hoseok's words get to him from the expression he gives. He looks vexed but he tries to cover it with a barely there smile. One that both you and Hoseok can see through.

"So," Hoseok starts. "Are you done?"

Jimin looks back at his brother and frowns. He shakes his head a little before revealing a smile through his plump lips. "For now, yeah." He looks at you. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

Hoseok surges forward but your grip on his hand prevents him from moving any further.

"Hoseok," you say. "Let it go."

He doesn't listen at first. Simply staring at his brother. It takes you squeezing his hand harder for him to back down and for him to walk away with you up the stairs.

You don't dare to look Jimin's way. You're too afraid of what you might see. It's already bad enough that Hoseok controlled your mind earlier after the incident with the other woman. Now you come in contact with Hoseok's irate brother who you know is glaring daggers at you as you walk by.

The night has barely started and you're already dealing with so much. You wish things would be calm for once. If only you were with Yoongi or, even better, Namjoon. They can ease your senses from this whole mess.

You don't think you can join the brothers during their meals. At least not for another day. After what just happened you want to be left alone. Or however alone you can be in the presence of Hoseok.

You sigh before swallowing as you make your way down the hall. Things have become more and more complicated the longer you stay here and you can't help but wonder about the woman you and Hoseok found. Is she okay? Does she have family looking for her? Does her captor know she escaped? Is he someone well off that can cover his tracks if she wants to sue him? Are her wounds severe? Was that dirt or blood on her shirt? So many questions and all it does is make you more nervous.

You also wonder if that would be you some day. In nothing but a tank top and underwear looking or running towards salvation. It makes your heart hurt at the prospects.

Would you ever be free? Maybe. You hope that by the time that you do someone will come and find you and take you to get help just like you did today. Maybe. Hopefully.

[lucigraves]

Can't scroll through any social media without reporting/blocking an ad every other post. Personal creations get no traction. Endless amounts of art tossed into the void only to get drowned out beneath ads or bad faith opinions from someone with 100k followers (majority of whom are either bought or bots) who's completely lost touch with reality. Most social media runs exclusively off of a negative feedback loop, you spend so much time being angry at someone who hit post on something just for clicks. They don't think about you, they don't think about consequences because they're making $ off of you being upset.

Can't drive down a highway without being blinded by full LED screens bigger than my house advertising businesses I've known about for 10+ years. The cost of keeping every light on all 25 billboards in a 10 mile stretch would cover the cost of universal housing for the local area for 5+ years. 5 more storage units pop up in whatever land is left for sale.

Can't listen to a streaming service without an ad after every song. Can't listen to podcasts without 10-20 minutes of paid advertisements; all of them are either gacha games (gambling), weight-loss fads, pyramid schemes, therapy with unlicensed physicians who data mine your personal info or some brand you'd have to be living under a rock to not know. Every YouTube content creator makes videos exclusively about covering some topic or fad you should avoid on TikTok, seemingly bringing the topics even more attention than it had before; 30 minutes long with a 10 minute paid advertisement in the middle.

Can't make important phone calls without being met with automated help systems that never have an option for the issue you're having. If you're lucky enough to get sent to a real person you end up waiting 15+ minutes on hold and most of the time get disconnected before you get through, successfully wasting 30 minutes to an hour of you're limited free time.

Every streaming service has new shows and movies every day. One season, three if you're really lucky. And no more 12-24 episode series, now its 8 episodes, because that's whats bingeable. Nothing good approved for more than 2 seasons and maybe a double feature movie to tie up all of the loose ends they thought they had time to finish up before they dared to put a queer character in their cast. Is buying the media physically worth an ad every 20 minutes? Does it even exist physically; or is it another series that'll be lost to time because corporate noticed they can't make an extra $0.05 on every stream.

Every other ad is temu or shein, every product photo is blatantly ripped off of some individual creator on etsy who handmade the item and hasn't gotten a sale in 6 months. Every corporation relies on stealing from solo artists and creators and mass-producing their one-of-a-kind pieces. If they're lucky enough they'll be allowed to do a collab with a big company, all so they can make 2% of the profit.

All of this on top of having to work however many hours you need to to survive, to get by on (probably) the bare minimum, to scrape by. To pay rent to someone who owns 15 properties and charges you double what they pay monthly. Hoping (for your wallet's sake) that you don't have any emergencies lest you empty out what little savings you've been able to put aside. You get maybe 3 hours of free time in your day between keeping up with household needs. All of that, only to have to fight your way through all of the advertisements to try to enjoy the few minutes of free time you get for yourself.

I wish I could put this into words in a more palatable way, but I'm just so tired of being frustrated that so much of my limited time on earth is being wasted so someone else can make $0.0005 on 30 seconds of my life. I'm tired of being advertised to. There's so few places left worth my time on the internet anymore, because they prioritize a few cents to the ceo over me.

[bohemian-nights]

what is your opinion on daemon and nettles? For me, they had a relationship, I don't even know where this story about her being his bastard daughter came from, who showers with their bastard daughter? daemyra stans saying that daemon died for rhaenyra, for me he went to fight with aemond because he had to see nettles leave (even caraxes felt his pain seeing her leave) someone he had a much better connection with than rhaenyra, a kinda thing he preferred to die than return to rhaenyra

Oh yeah there is no question that they were lovers. Shipping goggles aside, I really don’t see how else we are supposed to view Daemon Targaryen of all people bathing butt-naked with a young woman 🫠

I mean they were staying at a castle with maids that served them meals and fetched them their bath water along with anything else they needed. They weren’t roughing it in the great outdoors.

There was no reason for him to bathe with her. Lord Mooton would give a royal guest a five-star treatment meaning that he wouldn't be like “Hey Daemon, my dude, we are trying to conserve water over here so would you mind taking your baths with the girl you brought with you”🫠

Nettles wasn’t an invalid so she did not need assistance with bathing. Homeless≠stupid(she claimed a dragon for Pete’s sake). You’re telling me a girl who tamed a wild dragon that killed at least a dozen other dragonseeds didn’t know what soap and water were 🙃 They bathed together cause they both wanted to(it was definitely a stress reliever after a long day on dragon back 😏)

The she’s his bastard “theory” is literally nothing but cope from Dumbnyra stans who hope that they can dupe those who haven't read the books into believing their lies. Nowhere does it say that Nettles is his actual biological daughter(just that he doted on her as one might dote on their daughter):

The maester was obviously smoking crack or trying to protect Nettles’ reputation because he then goes on to mention them bathing together 🫠

She can’t be his actual daughter unless Daemon(who was banished from Westeros in late 111 AC and didn’t come back until 115 AC while Nettles was born in early 113 AC) is capable of being in two places at one time.

Daemon definitely loved Nettles more than Rhaenyra(and love you Laena, but he loved her more than you too). No other woman did he behave entirely unselfishly for. He literally had nothing to gain from her. Not money, land, or a title.

Nettles isn’t a Valyrian beauty(which in the books unlike in the show, I’m looking at you HBO for not putting Mysaria in a tacky blonde wig too, everyone he is with romantically is Valyrian). She’s not thought of as a beauty period. She’s not his typical type. She’s just young and even then she’s not as young as he has been known to go for.

She offers him nothing apart from his company and he's happy with that💅🏽 He loves her for her, not her looks, or what she can offer him. He loves her to the point where he was willing to give up everything including his life. I agree that he did what he had to do to save her.

There was no way that either the Greens or Rhaenyra would let them go riding off into the sunset together undisturbed. Someone would've been sent to look for them. They could not hide forever(and hiding isn't a life worth living).

Plus Daemon at that point was tired of it all. He lived a lot, he'd seen a lot, and done a lot. In the end, he just wanted to make sure Nettles was alive and safe and he accomplished that goal at the expense of everyone else including Rhaenyra and potentially himself(I am clinging to the hope of him surviving the battle and finding his way back to his Netty🧘🏽‍♀️). A true romance if I've ever seen one🤷🏽‍♀️

[purplekoop]

@daylightcommand3 Explaining this in its own post because it's very much its own topic separate from the other figures

I actually don't remember any official life-sized Bastion statue (there were official life-sized statues made for stuff like cons and such, just not one of Bastion), but what I was referring to in that last post was, as far as I'm concerned, the "white whale" of Overwatch figure collecting.

The incredible, the elusive, and the unauthorized:

DX9 Freeman

A fully articulated and transforming translation of bird-loving bot into roughly 1/12th scale figure form, this is a godly Bastion figure.

It comes with everything you'd expect and hope for besides maybe an alternative welding hand. There's a little plastic Ganymede, and even treads and a cannon to you can swap out the gatling gun and legs for to replicate their Tank configuration, though now it'd be more accurate to just swap the legs for Assault mode and swap the cannon for Artillery mode, which like. the design was accidentally future proofed for the OW2 rework, I just find that neat.

Aside from the tank parts though, the transformation is completely legit. You bend the legs to form the stand, fold up the arms, retract the head, and swivel the torso around and pull down the back cannon to get it into turret form, just like the in-game animation. It's a testament to both the exceptional amount of thought and effort put into the character's original design, and the engineering required to make it into a functional model.

So... what's the catch. Obviously the perfect Bastion figure doesn't come without a catch, right?

Well. Notice how I called this figure "DX9 Freeman". Why isn't it just called... y'know, Bastion?

You might've been able to deduce by this point that this figure is in fact: Unofficial. DX9 is, from what I can gather, a Chinese company that specializes in making high-quality unofficial transforming figures for stuff like Transformers. Naturally, when a mega popular and relevant new game comes out with an iconic transforming robot, they decided to make this figure.

And this was back in 2017 or so, well before the Hasbro line, with I think the only thing out by then being maybe the Tracer Figma. It was slim pickings if you wanted an Overwatch guy on your shelf back then, so "Freeman" here caught on. Even when other figures started rolling in, there were no official figures of Bastion. There was a Lego set and an above-average Funko Pop in terms of both looks and size, but nothing else would just about perfectly fit in line with the proper action figures.

Sadly though, it was a spark short-lived, as it is basically impossible to find the figure now. The direct site to find it has been out of stock for years, and I doubt many people who already have one are willing to part with theirs for cheap, if at all.

So yeah. This is by far the best but most elusive Overwatch figure out there as far as I'd say. It's a basically perfect recreation of the character (save for a flat paint job, if you wanna be picky), but by nature of being an unlicensed figure from 6 years ago now, jesus christ, it didn't stick around for long and is nearly impossible to come across today, and even if you miraculously somehow find a secondhand seller today, I have a feeling it ain't gonna be cheap.

If I could magically wish for any mundane object that wouldn't technically benefit my life in any drastic way, it'd be one of these. Bastion's one of my favorite designs in a game full of fantastic character designs, so having a big ol' unit of a figure that offers a physical way to showcase the coolest part of that design with the game-accurate transforming feature would be... more personally exciting than I'm willing to admit.

Anyways yeah, full breakdown of every figure line and what characters are in which coming soon. Wanted to clear up Bastion first anyways, both because it's such a cool figure and also such a specific asterisk that's worth bringing up but not totally fair to include in a breakdown of official figures that are more easily and consistently available for most people without getting lucky.

[dingoat]

LEMON, KIWI, MANGO, GRAPES, PEACH for BIRDMAN

(Birdman, of course, referring to werewolf au Crow, who is quite a distinct entity from regular au Crow and who I've been given complete custody of! <3 Never not grateful for being allowed to have just run with him!)

🍋  :    what kind of diet does my muse have?  do they eat regularly,  or the standard 2-3 meals a day?  do they have to be reminded to eat,  or are they likely to remind others?  do they cook,  or have others cook for them?  do they eat healthily,  or not so much?  

Crow's diet is absolutely all over the place, with very little consideration put into the nutritional value of his meals; he's more than happy to exist solely on greasy refuelling station kiosk food, but won't turn his nose up at a gourmet dinner if it's served to him (even if he doesn't recognise half the ingredients). Definitely doesn't need to be reminded to eat; he'll snack whenever he feels the need and can cook a few standard meals if the need arises (especially if he has access to a grill). He's probably going to get used to an abrupt raise in standards of his meals in the near future, though it might take him a while longer to actually appreciate it.

🥝  :    does my muse have any  ‘  unusual  ’  habits,  interests,  and  /  or talents?  do they hide it,  or are they proud of it?

Well. He definitely has made a bit of a habit of deserting/defecting from his current faction, hahaha, though he's not necessarily proud of every switch he's made, but he'd never try to hide the fact either. Aside from that, he's been gathering a collection of unusual cybernetics and upgrades of which he's very proud, and definitely has a leaning toward the unusual/unconventional. He tries to be mindful of the company he's in with regards to just how much he'll flaunt, though.

🥭  :    how important to my muse is their hometown,  or where they’re from?  are they proud of it,  or considered a hometown hero? did they move away,  or do they wish to?

Crow's earliest memories are of living on the streets and alleys of lower level Coruscant, and it's safe to say he has no particular attachment to that period of his life or the places he was forced to shelter. When he was taken in by his adoptive father, he came to see the ship, and even moreso the great expanse of outer space, as his home, and that has always meant more to him than any other physical space has. He's a man who likes to roam, and doesn't enjoy having his wings clipped.

🍇  :    how would my muse describe their childhood?  how much has it impacted the person they are now,  or will become as an adult?  around what age did they or will they start to mature,  and why?  do they wish to go back to their days as a child,  or have they embraced adulthood?

Crow would say that his childhood was lively, and dangerous, and taught him to live every moment as though it could be his last. He spent a lot of his formative years never being certain of what the next day would bring, and learned the value of having people's back; he learned to be generous, and open, and form connections with people swiftly and fiercely. Sometimes this has lead to forming connections with the wrong sorts of people, and the lessons he's learned from those associations have taught him more about his own values and convictions than anything else. 'Embracing adulthood' might be a bit of a stretch; Crow will be as naughty and frivolous as often as he can get away with, but he's definitely developed a level of emotional maturity that many of the broken beings around him have come to lean on.

🍑  :    how meticulously does my muse look after their physical appearance?  do they spend a lot of time on their hair,  makeup,  grooming,  and clothing?  is there a particular reason why they do or don’t? 

Crow spends more time on his hair than he would ever admit aloud to anybody, because he thinks it's worth it. He'll look after his general hygiene but won't fuss over a bit of engine grease or wearing the same shirt for a few days running; but since he also quite enjoys getting a positive reaction from Thirteen in particular sometimes he'll put a little more effort into his clothing purely for that reason. In general, though, Crow tends to find everybody he cares about stunning just as they are, and that extends to himself- so what reason is there to overly fuss when one is already perfect?

[daveinediting]

The key is: how do we want to spend our time?

Okay so lately, the topic of boundaries has come up interestingly often, though not in the way I'm used to. 

Usually, I think of boundaries as keeping out toxic people or intrusive requests. What's come up lately is about creating space for better professional experiences. Which also means letting go of specific work in order to pursue more satisfying and rewarding work.

In one case the client/service provider relationship was a brutal mismatch. One of the parties was unpredictable, disrespectful of schedules, and undermined decisions already made even when those decisions were actively being implemented until finally...

One of the parties had enough and respectfully backed out of the relationship.

How do we want to spend our time?

Professionalism aside, if we're going to pursue a career across years and decades, what do we want that experience to be? Because I won't lie. Dysfunction abounds. Lack of communication skills, lack of social skills, lack of management skills is rampant. 

Not every client is worth having.

Not every service provider is worth hiring.

What do you want.

Your experience to be?

Tied into knowing what you want is also knowing your worth. A lot of that's your experience, your resume, of course. A lot of it's the opinions of co-workers and past clients. A lot of it's comparing your work with the work of your cohort. Not just the final product but also the client service, your communication skills, your social adeptness, your ability to manage your client toward a win-win.

From the other side of the counter, the hiring end, knowing what you want can be just as straight forward as knowing what you want. It can also be about comparing notes with your cohort, with people who're in your shoes, with mentors. Because you're not only looking for the right person or company to do the job, you're looking for the right person or company to do the job.

What.

Do you want the experience to be?

And don't settle for anything else.

It's important to take a hard pass on dysfunctional working relationships because they're so rampant in the work environment.

Now, the other conversations that come to mind that dance with boundaries are similar to my first example while being more preemptive. They all involve work that the professionals in question don't want to do anymore. This isn't about bailing in the middle of projects. It's about no longer accepting projects from certain clients.

This is a complicated call to make, by the way. Especially early on when any paid job in our industry is the objective. Or especially when you've got something that's got to get done. Definitely in the early going of my career I took everything. No questions asked. I kept working everything. And there was stuff in there that wasn't healthy... but I overlooked it so I could keep having a job in my industry.

Whoops.

Because just as there's such a consideration as quality of life, there's also such a thing as quality of work life.

And it's important to get that right because a poor quality of work life can be demoralizing. It degrades our best work and our best professional selves. And it can convince us we don't want to do what we've been trying to do this whole time. Or that maybe we're not good enough. Or maybe we just don't belong. 

There's only so much of our lives we can dedicate to work, you see. And if 100% of it sucks then...

100% of it sucks. If 80 then 80. If 50 then 50. And so on.

The question is, how much of our careers do we allow to suck? How much negative experience do we allow to rob us of our Muchness? How much dysfunction do we allow to color our lives?

These are all personal calls, of course. I would only suggest that working in such circumstances is not sustainable. Like any other pressure that bears down on us, we can't bear this pressure indefinitely. Because day after day that pressure transforms us into lesser versions of ourselves.

Lesser versions.

Of ourselves. 

So.

The ball we've gotta keep our eye on is What kind of professional experience do I want to define my career?

Not joking, by the way. The job itself is not enough. If it were, then there wouldn't have been any people in my first jobs who had to attend mandatory anger management classes. There wouldn't have been any people who were habitually triggered into public displays of anger including shouting profanities, yelling at coworkers, throwing items from pens and pencils to furniture, and pouring gasoline over already existing dysfunctional work relationships.

What kind of professional experience do you want to define your career?

You achieve it by relentlessly seeking out and working jobs that are professionally fulfilling with people who bring out your best. 

Which means letting go of jobs that are professionally debilitating. Getting them out of our lives as quickly as possible because the cost of not doing so is steep. They undermine our professional quality of life and eventually compromise our straight up quality of life.

Letting these jobs loose indefinitely in our careers is like tolerating cancer.

It does nothing, they do nothing but metastasize.

Now I said before the key is: how do we want to spend our time?

The answer to that question is absolutely defining. It addresses such a huge area of our lives that it demands an answer. And, with that answer in mind, we're enabled to draw to ourselves the right experiences and throw away the wrong ones.

It's not a simple task, mind you. I don't want to give the wrong impression.

But it is the most important action we take on our own behalf to manifest careers that are not only fulfilling but also contribute to bringing about our best selves...

And our best lives.

[wri0thesley]

Hey Nat, I'm kinda blaming you for my budding infatuation with Nanami and I was wondering if I may request Nanami and his s/o having their first kiss? It doesn't have to be long but I'm just feeling soft and with the way you write him it sounds like a treat once this reserved, professional man finally allows himself to give in

oh anon i am so... so very soft.... you cannot blame me for the nanami desire. he is simply irresistible. 

date night - nanami x reader (3k)

you’re nervous about your first date with nanami.

warnings: none. fluffy, soft. neutral reader, some mentions of food and alcohol.

You cannot help but be nervous about tonight.

Your friends have made fun of you, talking about your hot date – Gojo thumping you on the back, Shoko looking at you with her tired eyes but a smirk on her face. Neither of them really get it, you don’t think – to them, Nanami is their former junior who is just a little too serious for his own good. A gloomy, stoic presence who they trust implicitly due to the good head on his shoulders, but who they do not really see as ‘a potential romantic match’. They know that you’ve been harbouring a crush on the former salaryman for months, and they’ve already tried to warn you off him.

“He can be so boring,” Gojo had said, swinging an arm around your shoulders. “Let me set you up with someone instead!”

Your face had heated up at the idea that Gojo didn’t trust you to make your own romantic decisions, but he was already halfway through listing the name of every eligible bachelor he knew (and a few who he said ‘weren’t eligible, but they probably could be, for you!’). You’d been able to do nothing but listen politely as you’d walked with him to his classroom, occasionally gathering strange looks from the students that were milling around in the corridors.

“Think about it!” He’d cried to you as he’d stepped into his bare classroom (you hardly ever see him doing any actual classwork in there; mainly, you see him lying on top of desks and making fun of his students) and greeted the three first years waiting for him. “You don’t wanna be stuck ironing Nanami’s socks for the rest of your life!”

You hope his students don’t hear him, as you decide to go for a walk outside to clear your head.

You and Nanami have been dancing around the idea of maybe possibly being something more than friends for weeks. You’ve felt it, in the brush of his hand against yours, the way that his eyes seem to soften and his tiredness seems to lift when you’re near him. You’ve felt it, as you’ve passed him a cup of coffee and he’s relished the warmth emanating from the cup. In the soft way he speaks to you.

You’ve felt it when he’s held your hand as the two of you have walked together, not saying anything. In his scarf wrapped around your neck, smelling like him.

What you haven’t done, is go on a date.

And perhaps this isn’t a date the way you’d once have dreamed about it. You’re going over to Nanami’s place; he’s going to cook a meal for you, the two of you are going to catch up after he’s been gone on a mission for almost a week -  the two of you are going to watch a foreign film he’s been able to get hold of, that you’ve been saving to watch with one another. You’re going to perhaps have a glass of wine together, or two--

You kind of do want to be stuck ironing Nanami’s socks for the rest of your life.

It sounds so silly when you say it aloud! You haven’t even kissed him, just brushed fingers and held hands and saved each other’s lives whilst on exorcisms together. But whenever you close your eyes and imagine your future, Nanami is always there, right beside you.

You breathe in deeply. You have to ignore what Gojo and Shoko and everyone have been saying. They’ve known Nanami for longer than you – they were his upperclassmen, after all, and you suppose it’s traditional to make fun of and quash your younger classmates a little. You just need to think about what you want, and what Nanami himself may want. Plucking uselessly at your clothes, nerves fizzing in your stomach, you elect to ignore the anxiety gnawing at you until you’re at least outside of Nanami’s front door.

Then, you tell yourself, then, I’ll allow myself to panic a little bit. Seeing Nanami’s calm, handsome face always calms me down. The minute he answers the door, I’ll forget that I was even nervous, and everything will be just as it should.

It doesn’t stop you worrying, as you get dressed and try and fluff your hair and rearrange all of your accessories whilst you get ready. It’s just an evening at his house, you try and keep telling yourself. He’s not expecting me to show up like a runway model, he’d probably hate that anyway--

Still. Having a crush on somebody is never easy, and Nanami can be so utterly unreadable at times, that you get dressed and undressed twice more before you settle on something in between casual and formal; that looks like you’ve made an effort, without looking like you agonised for hours to figure out what the level of effort should be. You’re clutching a bottle of wine and standing outside of his door three minutes early, wondering if he’s the kind of man who gets annoyed if you are there too early.

The door swings open, and Nanami is there, leaning on the door frame. He’s breathtakingly handsome, in casual clothes – an expensive looking sweater in soft grey that gives just a peek at the column of his throat, cuffed jeans. You’ve never seen him look so . . . relaxed. And the fact that he’s looking at you, his lips barely tilting, his tired eyes just a little turned up at the corners.

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you thank God that you went with this outfit. You hold out the bottle of wine for him, and his smile breaks wider as he looks at it. “You didn’t need to bring me anything, you know. I’m happy to be the provider this evening.”

“It’s-- it’s polite!” You insist, and Nanami steps aside to allow you into his house. He’s very proper, and you’d wanted to impress him – you think the young lady who had served you in the specialist store you’d anxiously entered had sensed your worry, and had been very kind as she’d picked something for you she was certain you’d like.

“You made a good choice,” he tells you, as he invites you into his hallway and you gratefully pull off your shoes. “This one looks fine--”

“I didn’t really choose it,” you admit. “I let the experts do it.”

He laughs, the sound like an early spring morning. You don’t think anybody else hears him laugh like that, and the comfort that the two of you share makes you feel soft and warm.

“Even more admirable, then,” he says. “Most people we know would just barrel in guns blazing and insist they knew the right way to do things.”

You both share a secretive smile, your cheeks warming. You can feel tension draining out of you the longer you spend in Nanami’s company. Something about him just sets you at ease.

When you’d first met him, you’d been frightened of him. He seemed so gloomy and intense, so utterly focussed on his goals – when you had tried to speak to him, he had brushed you off with short one word answers and you’d caught him looking at you when your back was turned as if he was waiting for you to slip up.

But as time had worn on . . . as time had worn on, Nanami’s edges had softened. You’d realised that he was willing to talk, when the participant had proved themselves to be worth talking to. He’d told you once, shrugging, that most jujutsu sorcerers just tended to be . . . odd.

“Not you, though,” he’d said, and your heart had leapt in your chest. “Well. You’re not odd in any way that isn’t charming.”

He’s not usually the kind of man who heaps praise on other people; that little compliment, you had carried with you like a flame in your heart. The first time he had held your hand, he hadn’t said anything. The first time he had walked you home, and met you for coffee in a morning a half hour before you were due to be at the scene of an exorcism; Nanami Kento shows that he cares about you in a hundred different little ways that aren’t as simple as telling you it out and out. You admire that about him. You’re so used to putting your foot in your mouth.

“Come sit at the table,” he says, and you follow him obediently. His house is tastefully decorated, somewhere between modern and traditional; he has shelves of books everywhere, and that makes you smile. You’ve heard him say, sighing; “When I’m done with all this, I’ll finally have time to get around to reading them.” The shelf in the very corner of the dining area is the only one that looks well-thumbed; even from here, you can see that it’s where he keeps his recipe books.

“I hope you’ll like it,” you settle into the chair that he pulls out for you. He moves into the kitchen with purpose, grabbing serving dishes and utensils and juggling them with a precision that makes you admire him all the more. “I’m very glad you were on time. It’s the kind of dish that needs to be eaten at the exact right moment.”

He whips the cover off the main dish.

You knew that Nanami was a foodie. His instagram is full of pictures of various places and treats he’s eaten – with a particular focus on adorable baked goods, especially bread, that had made you feel warm inside when you’d noticed. Still, the spread that he’s laid out before you would not look out of place in the most high-class of restaurants; the kind that you’d never had the money to afford to eat in, and you’d have been afraid of showing yourself up at the tables of. You stare at it, mesmerised; the vegetables, so bright and colourful and steaming, lovingly presented – the glaze of the meats, the bowls full of side-dishes that you can’t quite recognise.

There’s an anxiety in his face when he looks at you.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. “I think I probably over-estimated. And over-compensated, I suppose, for not taking you out to a restaurant--”

“No,” you say, quickly. “It looks delicious. I’m glad you invited me. It’s just . . . a lot.”

“Yes,” his eyes rove over the table. “There are only two of us.”

“It’ll make good left-overs,” you suggest, and he brightens.

“That should have been my line,” he tells you as he retrieves the wine you’d brought. You can see that there was already a bottle chilling in a bucket by the table, but Nanami’s face is affectionate as he pops the cork and pours some into the wine glass by your plate. “I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Sorry for stealing your thunder,” you take a sip of the wine.

“Just as long as you don’t make a habit of it.”

The food really is delicious. You could easily have had seconds, or even thirds – on an ordinary day. A day in which your stomach isn’t churning from how alone the two of you are. There’s a buzz in the air that isn’t quite tension; more, it’s a promise that there’s more yet to come. You and Nanami laugh over dinner, the conversation surprisingly easy when the knot in your insides is so tight. He talks about his old job, and you talk about your own adventures before you’d ended up in Tokyo – he smiles, and laughs, more than you’ve ever seen him do.

He seems so much more at home here. That’s silly, considering it is his home – but somehow, there’d always been an image of Nanami in your head as serious and unforgiving with his tie very tight and his suits perfectly pressed even when he was relaxing in his own rooms.

That image is quickly wiped away, by the way he looks as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater to take the dishes away.

“Let me help you wash up,” you try and say, but he waves you away.

“I’ll leave them for after you’ve gone,” he says. “I’m not going to ask a guest to do that. Or maybe I’ll even be bold; leave them for in the morning.” His smile makes you feel weak at the knees, this time – a spot of pink high on those sharp cheekbones. Is he blushing, or has his face gone rosy from the wine?

The two of you migrate into the living room. His television is large, but not ostentatiously so; a row of DVDs are neatly in the cabinet beneath it, mainly drama films, period films and some foreign prestige box sets. The movie the two of you have been talking about is one of those – a Danish film about an ageing detective who takes on one last case. You had originally planned to see it together, when it made it to Tokyo cinemas; but one thing had lead to another, and before you could both get the schedules to work out it had gone.

He places the DVD into the player and you can’t help but stare at him; how the soft material of the sweater clings to his broad shoulders, how the jeans seem to emphasise his ass – he’s always in slacks, you’ve never really had the chance to ogle it before, but seeing it in front of you now you suddenly understand why he keeps it covered. Who knows what riots it might incite, if it were just out and about for anyone to see?

“You’re staring,” Nanami turns his head slightly, catching your eye. Heat rushes to your face – but he keeps your eyes pinned with his own for a moment, before deliberately dragging them down the length of you, sat on the sofa. You feel hot and warm and bothered by the way he smiles afterwards, as if he is saying that he likes what he’s seeing too. “You don’t need to be sneaky about it. I don’t mind.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly going very dry. Nanami moves across the room, sitting on the sofa beside you. Heat seems to be radiating off of him; there’s a comfort in having him next to you.

“You look uncomfortable,” he says, five minutes into the movie. He leans back, an arm coming to rest on the back of the sofa behind you. “You can lean on me, you know. I don’t mind.”

He looks inviting. His head is tipped to one side as he meets your eyes; there’s no challenge in his. Just a softness. A quiet affection. Perhaps a touch of nervousness – of trepidation, that you’ll refuse the offer. You hesitantly sidle closer, leaning your head against his side. His scent wraps around you; freshly cleaned laundry, peppermint, coffee, spices, some of the wine from earlier--

You fair go dizzy at it all, but not as dizzy as you go when the arm on the back of the sofa wraps around you, his fingers resting on your shoulder. How are you supposed to concentrate on anything, with him so close to you? With everything about him making you feel like you’re on a roller-coaster climbing upwards and upwards, hurtling towards the inevitable?

You try – oh, you really do try – to keep your eyes on the film and the subtitles scrolling across the bottom of the television. But the aged detective is not half as interesting as Nanami; as the way he focusses on the screen, as his face bathed in the light. As his hand, as it gently starts to stroke over your shoulder, as if he’s barely aware he’s doing it. As his tongue, as it darts out to nervously lick at his lips.

“You’re staring at me,” he says, and you flinch that he’s noticed. His head turns, pinning you with the full force of his gaze. “Are you not enjoying it? We can turn it off?”

How do you answer that?

The real answer: ‘I’m not enjoying it because I can’t concentrate on anything other than you, and how badly I want to be brave enough to kiss you’, feels too bare and bold. You bite your lip.

Nanami leans in closer to you, so close that you can see the flush on his cheeks. The slightly ruffled hairs falling over his forehead. You can count his eyelashes, almost--

“I’m not sure what’s going on either,” he admits, softly. “And I can speak Danish.”

The arm not around your shoulders moves, resting on your waist. You can barely breathe. He’s so close to you; so gorgeous, in the light. All of that former salaryman indifference seems to have gone; he’s not cold any longer, but boiling hot. You’ve been watching it slowly strip away from him since you met him, you think, but tonight might be the first time he’s been Kento Nanami with no pretension.

Nervous about his food, even though he knows he’s an excellent cook. Blushing as he realises you’re checking him out. Almost trembling, as his hand slides up and he cups your cheek like you’re made of porcelain and he’s afraid he might drop and shatter you at any moment. You blink up at him, honey-slow, so dazed by his touch and his presence you can barely make sense of what’s happening.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Nanami says, as a warning. Even now, he seems to think you might pull away. But you cannot, you do not; you just press yourself closer into him, your voice coming out very soft and small as you whisper;

“Please do.”

He does not need to be asked twice. His lips are so soft against yours. The wine clings to them, intoxicating and heady. The hand on your cheek tips your face further up, so he can keep his mouth pressed against you so sweetly. You pull back, your heart pounding.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he’s saying, almost immediately, nervous that you have changed your mind – but all you do is free your arms, so you can wrap them about his neck and pull him in closer, to devour him the way you’ve wanted to for months.

The movie plays on, forgotten.

[yesimwriting]

Searing Starlight (chapter 3)

A/n I CANNOT believe how many people have supported this story,, I’m so excited to continue it with you guys :)) 

Just a reminder that while this is based off the show i hope to blend in some book aspects/vibes and this is just a fanfic and it won’t be completely accurate/follow the show 100% and any changes I make/parts I chose not to focus on are for the sake of the story I’m trying to tell 

-- 

I can’t tell if I wish Kaz had let me go with Inej or not. She’s faster than I am, and considering that I have no real reason to be loyal to them, I’m a flight risk. That means I’m stuck here with only the Kaz Brekker and Jesper, who I tricked. I hadn’t exactly befriended Inej entirely in the few minutes I was alone with her, but she seemed more trustworthy than them. More susceptible to reason. And when she heard where I was from, who was responsible for raising me, something in the way she watched me changed. It was the oddest combination--a look of both tired sympathy and cautious admiration.

“What I don’t understand…” Jesper breaks the silence. “Is why you all go back there. He lets you leave, he gives you money--there’s no reason to return.” 

I try not to let the question anger me. I shift awkwardly, scratching at my palm. “We tried leaving.” My stomach knots. “Once.” How do I make them understand? “He caught us because we young and stupid, and then he…” I exhale slowly. They’re just words. They don’t change anything. Whether I speak them or not, the events of my history aren’t different. “He picked the youngest, a girl only six months younger than me, and he slit her throat from ear to ear and took a finger of anyone that flinched as her blood splattered onto them. He said her blood was our penance and to live with knowing what we did to her would be our punishment.” 

I don’t tell them that I was twelve. I don’t tell them Anya lied about my birthday on the records. I don’t tell them I’m missing the very tip of my pinky--a small punishment for the twitch of my lip. “When Kenya is truly angry, he never hurts you--he hurts those around you.” No one responds to that. They’re making me seem like such a bummer. “It’s not awful all the time...he borders on agreeable when you listen to him.” 

Most days we have peace, left to our own devices as long as we accomplish certain goals. Their silence does little to unnerve me. After speaking so freely of such a nightmare, the desire to be rid of the taste of those words from my mouth is almost overwhelming, but I hold to the silence. 

“Why has he never sold you to the grisha that are so desperate for you?”

Of course Kaz Brekker would ask a question like that. “He isn’t the business of money, he’s in the business of creating gods. He indentures people he thinks could one day become saints or something else entirely. He wants to be owed by the heavens.” 

I watch Kaz carefully, a part of me curious about how someone like him could react to a goal like that. I can see him understanding the ambition of it all, but I can’t imagine himself a person of faith. Perhaps he’ll think it a clever trick. Perhaps he’ll even agree with Kenya.

He nods once; something I get nothing from. 

Whatever. He can be coy and distant this entire time. They all can. I’ll be out of here soon enough, and I’ll find Anya. And if I can stop something bad from happening to Alina then that’s a bonus I’m willing to take risks for. 

“That man is awful.” 

Inej’s voice comes from right behind me. I snap my head around. “You’re in here.” 

She nods once, oblivious to how shocking her sudden appearance is. She hands me a knapsack casually, staring at Kaz. “What’s the plan? We have six hours.” 

I look around the room, only seeing one closed window and one closed door. “There’s one door in this room.” 

“We take the Inferni to the ship.” He doesn’t even bother looking in my direction. 

Okay, they can be mean to be all they want but they can’t ignore me. I don’t think I’ve ever been ignored in my entire life. Gods in the making get attention. It may be the cruel attention of fate, but it’s something. 

“Did she come in through the window?” 

Again, I am ignored. 

“And then what, boss?” Jesper casually crosses the room, sitting down next to me on the small couch. It’s like I’m not even here. “We’d need to break into the Little Palace to get Alina.” 

What? “You guys are going to--” No. No. I am not kidnapping Alina. And there’s no way she’d be in the Little Palace. “First off--if you want to kidnap Alina Starkov for whatever insane ploy you’re all playing at, you’d never find her at Little Palace. She’s not a Grisha and second--” I cut myself off, standing from my seat. “Why am I even telling you this? I shouldn’t be helping you kidnap her.” 

Kaz’s eyes dart to me boredly. At least it’s some kind of acknowledgement of my existence. “I thought you two weren’t close.” 

I seriously consider scorching him. Just a little. Not even enough to scar him, just enough to get him to shut up. “She’s still a person who has a right to her body and what happens to it.” 

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but if we pull this off we get one million kruge.” 

What does he think I’m going to say? ‘Okay, well as long as you’re doing it for a good reason.’ Is that the response he expects. “Okay, well that makes it fair.” 

His eyes narrow skeptically, but Jesper is the one to ask, “Really?” 

“No,” I scoff, slumping back into my seat, “I was being sarcastic.” 

I drop my head back, neck craning over the back of the small couch. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it makes it easier to ignore them. I’ve kept worse company for less. There’s an odd silence for a long second. I look forward without moving, I see Kaz vaguely gesture in Inej’s direction.

“Y/n,” Inej’s voice is refreshingly measured, “I think after the kinds of things we’ve gone through we understand that there’s some relativity in morality.” 

I shift my head to the right so I can look at her. “...Yes, but you’re just forcing another girl into a similar situation.” Why is Alina even worth so much? “And why would anyone pay so much for Alina?” 

Inej hesitates, glancing at Kaz and then back at me. “She’s a Sun Summoner.” 

On instinct, I straighten entirely, my body rigid. They’re insane. “You all are cracked if you think Alina’s a Sun Summoner.” No. No. It couldn’t be her. “Bless your hearts, seriously, she’s--she was trained to be a map maker--she’s not…” None of them relax, none of them shift in any way. What good would lying about this bring them? They have no reason to lie about this. “Saints, I should have had more to drink while downstairs.” 

So what if she’s a Sun Summoner? She didn’t ask to be one. She doesn’t deserve this. I cross my arms. “It doesn’t make this okay.” 

“And would it make it okay if you were getting a cut of the profit?” What? 

Kaz is looking at me in that tactful way. It takes all of my focus to not let myself become unnerved. “What?” 

“If I offered you a cut, would you be able to push aside more protests in order to make working with you easier?” 

Could I do it? Could I betray Alina? I drop my gaze away from his, opting to focus on the forgotten lantern on the coffee table in front of me. It flickers to life with no conscious prompting on my part. The flame is low and blue. Still though, Kaz notices it. What doesn’t he notice? 

“I can help you do what I agreed to.” I swallow around a lump in my throat, “But I cannot help you kidnap Alina.” 

The corner of his mouth tugs downwards. “We’re just going to get her to work with us.” 

“Work with you?” 

“We never said anything about taking her, and if Alina is really your friend you should know that the entire world is after her. Better us who can get her out of an unwanted situation quickly than the brutal General Kirigan who will hold her hostage until she does what he wants.” 

...I guess he has a point. “Oh.” I’m not naive enough to think that their methods will revolve around making Alina comfortable, but perhaps it’s not as dark as I assumed. “Maybe I was a little quick to assume…” I trail off awkwardly, looking at Inej for some type of reassurance. She avoids my gaze. 

I scratch the back of my arm, feeling like a spiraling child. I pick up my knapsack and place it on my lap, fiddling with the strap. 

“Come on,” Kaz stands, adjusting his grip on his cane, “We only have until sunrise.” 

As I stand, I pull down the skirt of my dress, suddenly aware of how inappropriate my clothing is for this late in the night. “Can--can I change first?” 

It’s a sheepish question, leaving me feeling like a child. 

“Five minutes,” Kaz offers, stepping out of the room with the rest of them. 

Inej leaves last, feet more silent than a cat. She offers me the tiniest hint of a smile. Despite my reservations, I beam at her. Something about me finds her politeness endearing despite it all. I think she closes the door loudly on purpose, to assure me of privacy. 

Normally changing in a building so full of drunk men would leave me nervous, but knowing Inej is outside leaves me feeling safe. I may not trust her with my life but something about her being tells me she values personal autonomy enough to protect it. 

I sift through the belongings Inej brought me. Clean underwear I try not think of her searching for, a thin white dress, comfortable pants, shorts, a few casual shirts, my red hood, and a nightgown. When I get to the bottom of the bag, and I see the personal belongings Inej smuggled back for me, I’m moved so powerfully my hand flies to my mouth on instinct. She had brought the folded up piece of paper with the only information I’ve been able to find about Kamil, the book I left on my nightstand, the small candle holder Alina had given me the day before I was taken away, the blade Mal had given me the day I left, the deck of playing cards Anya had first taught me to play with, and my mother’s necklace. The silver north star on a long chain. 

Before I can become too emotional, I take off the Crow’s Club T-shirt Inej had given me when I looked cold. I change into black pants, tucking the small blade Mal had given me into the pocket. The shirt I put on is pale blue, breaking the dark theme of everything around me. I fasten my red hood over my shoulders, basking in the familiar fabric. Lastly, I pull the north star necklace over my head, watching the blue orb with a black dot at its center blink at me in the light. I always found the stone at the pendant’s center odd. I'm quick to walk towards the door, nervous about what wasting their time could mean. 

“Let’s do this,” I sigh, pushing open the door. 

They all pause. Or maybe they were never moving. I try to imagine them interacting normally, but it’s hard to picture them as anything but intense and unflinching. There’s something odd about them, though, Jesper practically sulking and Kaz dropping his head despite Inej’s harsh stare.

“What kind of stone is in your necklace?” 

I swear to the Saints that if Kaz Brekker tries to steal it I’ll melt those leather gloves into his hands. “Try to take it and--” 

“That’s what I get for trying to make ‘polite conversation.’” He throws a look at Inej as he speaks the last two words. 

Wait--did Inej tell him to try to make polite conversation? Wait--more importantly, did he just kind of, almost say something that borders on casual? 

Wrinkling my nose, I let out a slight sigh. “Sorry.” 

His eyebrows draw together quizzically. “Did you just apologize for assuming I’d steal from you?” 

Great. Now I’m fully embarrassed. “Can we just go?” 

“Not before meeting me, I hope.” The stranger’s voice means nothing to me, but the others tense at it immediately. What? The man continues to walk forward, his steps too casual and confident for me to trust. The stranger is quick to respond to the question on my face, “Pekka Rollins.” 

--

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[solarwonux]

8. “We need to talk about what happened last night.”

25.  “It’s an office with huge windows, everyone can see.” “So?”

marketing director!mingyu x f!reader

w.c: 2.6k

warnings: a little bitt of angst, a little bit of fluff, suggestive themes like voyeurism briefly mentioned

note: ngl, I’m sorry not my best work but I TRIED. Let me know your thoughts it would really help me out a lot. Thank you for reading.xx

masterlist || prompt list

Kim Mingyu - Marketing Director

The nameplate on the door sends a shiver up your spine, knowing that the man you had accidentally pulled in for a drunk kiss the night before during the weekly company bonding dinner, was sitting just behind the door. He was pissed, had pushed you away, made a big deal in wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust. Causing you to sober up quickly and regretting it.

It’s no secret that God had taken his sweet time when creating Kim Mingyu Marketing Director of GoSe Enterprises. He put all the Greek Gods you spent your free time reading about to shame. You’ve been crushing on him since he sat in the cubicle next to yours for years. The two of you had developed a nice easy-going friendship. He was sweet, funny, and always offered amazing advice, both on personal and professional matters. You were practically head over heals for him.

Then the promotion came, granting Mingyu with an office on the southside of the company building. Huge windows overlooking the city below, and the office. A nice fancy gold nameplate with his new job description underneath it. Naturally, the two of you grew apart, ripped from one another without a warning. He was no longer rooting for you and your ideas. Instead, he was the one turning down all your project proposals. He was the one assigning you the revision tasks he knew you hated doing. He was the reason for the random spikes of anxiety throughout the workday. He was no longer your friend, he was your supervisor. His soft demeanor and fleeting touches were nowhere to be found. Lost amongst piles of paperwork surrounding his desk. 

You took a deep breath holding your laptop close against your chest, eyeing the nameplate on the large dark wooden door that took your Mingyu away from you a year ago. You were nervous. He only ever called you down to his office if you had a proposal revision due, which this time you didn’t. 

The last idea you had pitched two weeks ago was turned down before you could finish your sentence during your first PowerPoint slide. He didn’t even give you the chance to improve it, simply said, “trash it, it’s not worth wasting your time when it’s not a plausible option.” So, the only other option left and the one that made sense was your slip-up the night before. He had called you down to ask for your resignation letter for breaking company policy. 

“If you keep staring at the door it won’t magically open,” Chan spoke next to you making you jump. “I’m just saying.” He shrugged sheepishly and opened the door, walking in with confidence. “Mingyu I have the copies you asked for.” 

You filed in after him, situating yourself close to the wall and by the door, while Mingyu instructed Chan on where to set down the copies. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest, watching as the two of them laughed about some inside joke they had. The anger along with jealousy boiled with fever deep within you. 

This was the problem. Mingyu had only changed when it came to you. With everyone else he was the same Mingyu you once had the pleasure of knowing, and that not only confused you but it made you angry. “Are we still on for guys' night this friday?” Chan asked the older male pointing finger guns at him. 

“Yes, of course, drinks are on Seungcheol this time, which makes my wallet really happy.” Mingyu clapped Chan on the back and led him towards his office door. “Same bar with the cute bartender?” He emphasized, his angry gaze falling on you for a second. 

Subtle you silently scoffed rolling your eyes, holding your laptop as close to your body as humanly possible.If he didn’t make his distaste towards you obvious by his reaction last night, he surely made it painfully clear just now. 

“That’s the one.” Chan nodded, sending you a pitying look, one you didn’t need. You knew you were fucked. 

Everyone knew about your painful crush on Mingyu. Everyone had seen you grab the collar of his dark maroon shirt last night and plant a wet alcohol filled kiss against his lips. Everyone had seen the way he reacted, yanking his suit jacket off the back of his chair and walking out of the bar pissed. So, you didn’t need the various pitying looks you were getting since the moment you walked in that morning.

“Alright then I’ll see you then, don’t forget to turn in your proposal by tomorrow night, Jeonghan keeps bugging me about it.” 

Chan sighed, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, “shit, I’ll have it done by tomorrow morning.” He said quickly before speed walking back to his cubicle. Leaving you alone to face the problem you had caused. 

Mingyu laughed lightly, shaking his head as he shut the door to his office, “I knew he forgot.” He mumbled before straightening his back, the scowl you were used to seeing appeared on his face once again. He walked past you to his desk, taking a seat next to his name plate. You stayed put, looking down at the floor, only counting the tiny dust bunnies that were visible to your eye. 

Mingyu cleared his throat, “We need to talk about what happened last night.” 

You raised your head pushing yourself off the wall and walked to him. Stopping behind one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Don’t need to, It’s my fault for breaking company policy. I’ll hand in my resignation letter to Jeonghan tonight.” You kept your eyes trained on the skyscraper reflecting through the window behind him. Anything was better than looking at him right now. 

He sighed, running a frustrated hand across his face. He pushed himself away from his desk and took a step forward. “I didn’t call you in here to ask you to resign.” 

Confused, you tore your eyes from the building behind him and looked at him. The bags under his eyes that had started to form from lack of sleep and overwork were now more prominent than before. It made you wonder if he hadn’t slept last night because of you, but then you remembered the huge project he was currently working on, so you casted that thought aside.

“Oh then...I-umm, why am I here?” 

“Do you have any idea the position you put me in last night?” He furrowed his brows, placing a knee down on the chair in front of him. He leaned his forearms against the back of it, closing the distance you purposely kept between the two of you. 

You took a step back, scrunching your nose, “I don’t understand. You don’t want me to resign. If I’m not getting penalized then why am I here?” You dropped your arms in defeat. “If you called me in here to tell me you’re not interested in me, you don’t have to. I already know.” You finished swallowing the lump that had formed at the back of your throat. 

“That’s the problem.” Mingyu pointed an accusing finger at you before retreating it. “I am interested in you, more than interested in you. I have strong feelings for you and I can’t act on them because I don’t want everyone to think that I favor you, because I do.” 

I’m dreaming, you thought pressing the palm of your hand against your heated forehead. You had to be dreaming, life has never been this giving to you, “wait I’m confused...you ran out last night, literally pushed me away, disgusted. Do you have any idea how that felt? I had to sit down and face our co-workers with a fake smile on my face because I didn’t want them to see me cry.” 

Mingyu’s face softened, he gripped the back of the chair hard enough for his knuckles to almost turn white. “I know and I’m sorry but if I had stayed then I would’ve kept kissing you. You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to do that.” He dropped his head releasing a shuddering breath. “Every time we stayed here working over time, the only thing I could think about was how easy it’d be if I just leaned over a little more and kissed you. No one would be around, no one would see, it would just be our little secret. But the stupid company policy always seemed to find it’s way into my head and I never let myself cross that boundary.”

“Mingyu w-why are you telling me this now? Even if we have feelings for one another, my job is important to me and I don’t want to risk getting fired because we’re together.” You blinked rapidly, now was not the time to cry. You could cry later in the communal bathroom across the hall, or on the bus ride home, just anywhere but here. 

“Well,” Mingyu rounded the corner of the chairs and made his way to you, finally closing the distance. “I talked to Jeonghan -”

“Wait you told him we kissed?” You were sure your eyes were bulging out of their sockets as the realization hit you. Of course, Mingyu wasn’t going to fire you, he was saving himself the burden and having Jeonghan do it for him. 

He chuckled, placing a hand against your hip making you jump, “Just how drunk were you last night? Jeonghan was there when it happened. He called me and threatened to fire me for leaving you the way I did.” He whispered, circling his arm around you and pulling you close, making you stumble from the sudden impact. “H’said, fuck company policy and that I was stupid for following it when no one does.” 

“Wait are you saying th -” 

“Yes we can be together as long as we keep our work and personal lives separate, so, no sex in my office.” 

You gasped hitting his chest lightly, this lewd side of Mingyu was one you had never seen before. Or at least you had but in a much more subtle way. “Well of course, we can’t do that. That was never going to be part of the deal.” The thought of him pressing you against his desk after hours sent a thrilling shiver up your spine. You bit your lip, shaking your head. No, not allowed, focus. 

“Why not? I’ve slept on the couch here a few times. It's pretty comfortable.” He reassured, hooking his thumb in the belt loops of your dark slacks. “And your ass looks so good in these pants, I literally have to make it my mission to not stare.” 

“I’m flattered, I guess. But look around Gyu.” His gaze followed your hand as you waved it around in front of him. “It’s an office with huge windows, everyone can see -” 

He pulled you closer, eloping your body in both of his arms, “so?” He tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing against his lips. You had forgotten how much he liked to tease you. 

“So?” You rolled your eyes, “were you not listening to what I was saying everyone can see.” You emphasized, poking his cheek with your index finger. 

Mingyu bit his bottom lip trying to suppress his laughter. He forgot how easily flustered you could get, especially when he would say something out of pocket to you. Sure, half of the time you would ignore him, sometimes you would simply roll your eyes, focused on whatever you were working on. Other times he would leave you at a loss for words.

“Frankly, I don’t see the problem. We can just wait until everyone goes home and then give whoever is walking by a free show.” He finished raising his eyebrows suggestively at you. 

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away and walked to his door. “I can’t believe you’re already thinking about having sex with me and you haven’t even asked me out on a date or to be your girlfriend.” You pushed his door open and walked out, “the audacity you have Kim Mingyu.” 

He felt panic surge through him, his big mouth getting the best of him once again. “Woah woah wait I was getting there, you didn’t give me the chance to ask.” He followed you out the door, trying to keep up with your hasty steps. Who knew you could walk so fast in heels. 

Once you were at your cubicle you sat down, placing your laptop on top of your desk, waking it up. “Too late, company policy says we have to keep our work and personal lives separate, guess you’re going to have to wait a while.” You look at the digital clock on your desk, “Five and a half hours to be exact.” 

Mingyu threw his head back, frustrated. As much as he enjoyed teasing you, he had forgotten that you were equally as evil if not worse. He had waited to ask you out for more than two years and now that he could, he literally couldn’t wait five and a half hours.

“Friday, after work?” He whispered, covering the side of his mouth with his hand to make it look less suspicious. It wasn’t working.

“What about guys night and that cute bartender?” You smirked, clicking around your computer opening the files you were working on earlier. 

Mingyu took a deep breath and grabbed the back of your chair, swinging it around ripping you away from your computer screen. “Fuck guys night honey, I’m taking you home, cooking you the best meal you’ve ever had and then -” He stopped peaking over your cubicle. Everyone that had tuned in to your debacle, quickly scrambled to focus on whatever they were doing before you and Mingyu walked in. He nodded once before leaning down, his lips close to your ear, whispering, “then I’m going to fuck you against my window so everyone can see that you’re finally mine.” 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning.You put your hand on his chest and leaned in, placing a soft kiss against the shell of his ear. “Kinky, ask me again in five and a half hours.” You gave his cheek a gentle pat before pushing him away, returning your attention to what you were doing. 

Mingyu grumbled, shoulders slumped as he dragged himself back to his office. You stifled a laugh, the butterflies you had once felt for him returning. 

“You know I heard all of that.” Soonyoung spoke, peeking his head into your cubicle, his eyes wide like he had just seen a ghost, or something utterly disgusting.

Fuck! Mingyu! You whined silently before turning to face your cubicle mate. “I’ll buy you lunch if you pretend like you didn’t hear anything.” 

He put a pensive hand on his chin before sticking his hand out for you to shake. “Deal, I suddenly have been overcome with amnesia, whatever happened in the last five minutes I do not remember, that’s only if you promise to also finish revising this project proposal for me.” He waved the large packet of white copy paper in front of you. 

You groaned, “that wasn’t part of the deal we just shook on.” 

He sucked in air, “I don’t remember that.” He pouted. “I have amnesia, remember.” 

“Fuck fine.”

[aiyaar]

Nico di Angelo was ten years old when his life went to hell. He never felt so devastated, so ruined. The only person who cared about him, his family, his everything was gone.

Nico hated all of them. He hated sister for leaving him behind, as if he was nothing, just to die afterwards and leave him completely alone. He hated those stupid huntresses of Artemis for taking his sister away from him. He hated Annabeth Chase, whoever it was, for falling off the cliff and making them go on this quest. But most of all he hated him. Percy Jackson. The ultimate hero, so strong and cool. He hated everything about him. He let him down. Percy Jackson let his sister die.

It was already a month since Bianca left this world. A lonely, cold month. Grieve still strangled him. This month has passed in a blur.

Nico passed an empty street, not even bothering to lift up his head. Snow was falling from the white sky and Nico shivered slightly from the cold. He needs to find some warmer clothes.

The city clock struck twelve, sound cutting through the silence. Another day has come. As if Nico cared. Suddenly he stopped, absentmindedly looking at the date on the billboard. 28th January.

Nico titled his head. He didn’t even know his birthday was coming. He always loved his birthday, so excited to modestly celebrate it with Bianca. Bianca…

A lonely tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another. Nico didn’t bother to wipe them, letting them fall.

“Happy Birthday to me.” He said in a shaky voice, sitting in the snow right in the middle of the street. Nico buried his face in his palms, trying to quiet down choked sobs.

Nico di Angelo was eleven years old when he lost himself.

*

Nico di Angelo was eleven when he started to chase the dream of making his sister come back to life. He was obsessed with the idea, almost going mad in the company of hurt and angry ghosts.

Minos had promised him that he’ll see Bianca again. And Nico believed. What else he could do. He was alone. He was hurt.

Why can’t she talk to him? Why she doesn’t want to show up? She doesn’t want to see him. She despises him. She doesn’t want him.

Nico heard rustling sound under his boots. He picked up the newspaper, catching the date with his eyes. 1st February.

Well, another year passed. Nico didn’t care that he missed his birthday. But a little ache didn’t want to leave his heart as he remembered how Bianca smiled at him the day he turned ten.

And then, months later, she showed up, just to say him that he has to let go. Just to make Nico know that this plan wouldn’t work. Minos was a liar. He used Nico. His only hope was trampled.

Misery was what Nico felt. The weird, nasty feeling crawled up to his throat.

Aside from that, one image didn’t want to leave his mind. His face lived in his head, not wanting to leave. His stupid smile, green eyes, tousled hair. Why Nico keeps thinking of him?

Why did she want to talk to him, not Nico? This stupid guy, with his annoying grin made Nico want to- What?

Nico freezed, trying to finish this though. Did Nico want to kill him? Hurt him? No, it was something else. He felt weird every time he heard his name. Percy Jackson.

Nico di Angelo was twelve when he started to realize something about himself.

*

Nico di Angelo was twelve when he wanted to rip out his own heart. Abnormal, disgusting. He was sick of himself. He felt nauseous at the very thought of it.

It can’t be true, no. He’s mistaken.

He was lying on his bed at his father’s castle, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his face. Those gorgeous green eyes, goofy smile, tousled black hair. His mind was ranting: Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson.

Nico felt like he was about to cry. Why is he like this? Is he broken?

He looked to the side, at his night table. A bouquet of red roses stood there. An hour ago Persephone strode to his room with these flowers and a weird expression on her face. She silently put them in a vase and went back to the door. She stopped there, turning her head a little to look at him.

“Happy Birthday.” Was what she said. Then she left.

So it was his birthday. He’s thirteen now.

Nico stared at the flowers, a little bit shocked. She remembered about his birthday. His father didn’t even bother to check up on him.

Hades only cared about their deal. Nico was very hesitant about that. But after all, he agreed.

He just thought that if he does that then maybe Percy would… Like him? But he didn’t.

Percy Jackson hated him. He screwed everything up. It was horrible. He had to fix it.

So he did the best thing he could. He had to prove to Percy, to his father, to everyone that he is worth something. He was just a kid and the battle was scary. He was scared. But he was a hero.

Everyone respected him, some people wanted to be his friends. He even wanted to stay at camp. Nico was happy but only for a moment.

Days after the battle the whole camp started talking about how Percy and Annabeth finally kissed and got together.

Nico left without a warning. Not like he had anyone to warn. Not like anyone cared.

Nico di Angelo was thirteen when his heart was broken.

*

Nico di Angelo was thirteen when Percy Jackson had gone missing. Annabeth Chase went feral. And Nico promised to help. Of course he did.

He was actually worried. What could happen to him? Nico only knew that Percy was alive. It was somewhat reassuring.

Something bad was about to happen. Nico knew it. New demigods at Camp Half-Blood. One of them is a son of Zeus. That was a bad sign.

And now that Nico knows about romans…

Today was 28th January. His birthday. He already got used to ignore this day. Nico just marked the fact that he was fourteen now.

The door of his room swung open. Nico sat up on his bed, seeing his father in his usual black robes.

He stood there in silence for a minute or so, awkwardly staring at his son.

“Um, did you want something?” Nico said, nervously fumbling with the ring on his finger.

“Yes.” Hades came closer to his bed. “Well, not really. It’s just…” Lord of the Underworld sat on the corner of Nico’s bed. “It’s your birthday.”

Nico blinked, processing what his father was trying to say.

“Yeah, I know. Thank you for reminding me.” He finally said, scowling at his father. Like he ever cared about Nico anyway. “If that’s all you wanted to say-“

“No.” Hades looked strangely awkward. “You made me proud this year, you know?”

Nico’s eyes widened. Was his father trying to praise him?

“I wanted to say that I’m… Grateful. You made me make right choice. And what I said about you before… I’m sorry.”

Nico was more than shocked at this point. He felt awkward and Hades didn’t look better.

“Anyway, I vaguely know that mortals usually make gifts for the day one came from mother’s womb. And I thought that maybe you should spend time with your… peers?”

“What are you trying to say, dad?”

Hades took a deep breath, as if he was nervous.

“I want to give you a present. So that you will be able to go wherever you want, in those places where teenagers usually spend time.”

“You want to give me a car?” Nico asked, puzzled.

“No, you’re too young for that. I’ll give you a chauffeur, he’ll be helping you go to the mall or something. Because, well… I’m not able to do it for you.”

Nico blinked again, titling his head to the side.

“A chauffeur?”

Hades looked embarrassed for a moment. Then he put on a stern expression, standing up.

“Objections are not accepted. You should be grateful.” He strode off to the door. Then he stopped. “Happy Birthday, son.” He closed the door, leaving Nico alone in the dark room.

Nico di Angelo was fourteen when he received his first birthday present.

*

Nico di Angelo was fourteen when he met him. Will Solace.

It felt like a dawn after long, cold night. Will was his blessing, his salvation. And Nico didn't know what did he do to deserve someone like Will.

They've been dating for a couple of months, wonderful, amazing months. And Nico was genuinely thankful for everything Will had done to him.

Nico woke up at the knock on his door, blinking through the gloom of Hades cabin. He didn't know if it was morning already, because black curtains prevented any gleam of sunshine from crawling into his cabin.

Still, Nico knew exactly that it was early and he knew exactly who was outside, because there was only one person in this world who dared to wake him up.

Nico got out of bed and staggering came to open up the door.

Will Solace stood on the threshold. He was wearing his usual winter jacket and a scarf, a blinding smile on his face. He seemed to be particularly happy today and, judging by the flush on his face, he was running.

"Hey, Neeks." He ruffled his hair and came in, closing the door behind him as Nico shivered from the cold winter air.

"Good morning." Nico mumbled, still half asleep. "What time is it?"

"7 a.m."

"Why did you need to wake me up so early?"

Will looked him in the eyes, taking Nico’s cold hand with his warm one, which is weird, considering Will was the one who had a walk on winter air.

"Do you know what day it is?" He looked excited.

"Um, no, to be honest. I don't pay attention to the calendar." Nico sat down on his bed, wrapping himself in a blanket.

Will looked shocked.

"Are you serious?! I mean... It's 28th January!"

Nico's brain needed a moment to process what exactly Will wanted from him.

"Yeah. So?"

"So?! It's your birthday!"

Nico sighed.

"Guess I'm fifteen now. That also explains this." He pointed to his bedside table, where black envelope was perched on the top of black box. "Probably from my father."

Will looked at him, then at the envelope.

"So, like... Happy Birthday."

"Thank you." Nico got up again, reaching for the box. "Now go so I can change."

"Ok." Will strode off to the door, a strange expression on his face. Though Nico didn't pay much attention to it.

Nico opened the envelope. There was a thick wad of money and an invitation for a dinner. Nico will come, of course, but not today. In the box lay watches and a book in Italian.

The day went by as usual. Nico had a walk in the woods with Will before breakfast, then they were busy with their camp activities.

In the evening, right before they were about to go to the campfire, Will took his arm and told him.

"How about we won't go to the campfire today?"

"But you like-"

"I don't need to go there everyday. Especially today. Come to your cabin in twenty minutes." And he hastily strode off in the direction of the cabin thirteen.

Nico came in after twenty minutes to be met with dozens of candles around his room. Will was standing in front of him, holding a cake with fifteen lighted candles perched on it.

"Make a wish." He whispered as Nico came closer.

Nico looked him in the eyes and didn't know what to say. So he just did what he was told. Will smiled brighter.

"I baked it myself." He said proudly. "Well, Cecil helped me."

He put the cake on the table, now fumbling in his pockets.

"I have something for you, actually." He said, pulling out a small box from his pocket. "I don't know if you're going to like it but..."

Nico didn't hear what Will was saying as he opened the box with trembling hands. He pulled out a sun pendant on a thin gold chain. The sun looked just like the tattoo on Will's shoulder.

Nico couldn't hold back a tear that rolled down his cheek. Will watched him attentively, stopping his ranting when he saw it.

"Nico, what's wrong-"

The next thing Will knew, pale arms was wrapped tightly around him, Nico's face buried in Will's chest.

"Thank you." Nico said in a small, shaky voice before pulling back. He placed the sun pendant on his palm, watching it glisten in the candle light. Tears still rolled down his cheeks.

Will looked at him, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. He always understood. His sunshine was so alone, for so long. All Will wanted was to make him happy.

Will moved to embrace Nico in a tight hug, kissing the top of his head and then lifted his head with long, gentle fingers on his chin.

"I love you so much." He said. "You're such an amazing person. You're brave, gorgeous, smart, brilliant. Beautiful." He wiped the tear from Nico's cheek. "I will love you with all my might. I promise."

And with that he gently kissed Nico, making him smile while the tears of joy kept rolling down his cheeks.

"I love you, Will."

Nico di Angelo was fifteen when he found his happiness.

[latenightdecaf]

Entry 7 - Summer of Vulnerability

part of let the pile of good things grow series - series masterlist

previous entry here

Yoongi x reader

Ft. nonidol!bts (glimpse of ex-boyfriend!namjoon)

Producer!yoongi, roommate!yoongi, soft!yoongi

slow burn romance, friendship, slice of life

series of drabbles/one shots

warnings: alcohol consumption

a/n: okay so here goes y/n remembering his ex!joon also will never get over of in the soop yoongi! can’t wait for the new season. Thank you guys for reading! 🙈

word count: 2,546

Went home from the grocery and some of their wines are on sale so you got carried away and bought 8 bottles and to your surprise, Yoongi’s cooking steak. “oh my God!” You exclaimed as soon as you saw him cooking in the kitchen with paperbag of wines in your arms. Yoongi looked at you with a confused face.

“Did you just read my mind or what??! There’s a sale on the corner deli and…” raising both of your hands as if surrendering, “okay don’t judge me yet but i got a little carried away.”

“A little carried away? You looked like the world’s going to run out of wine tomorrow.”

He smiled on your disclaimer and shaking his head as he paid his attention back to his steak.

“No.” You sighed. “Nothing went my way today, not at all—but i dont want to think about it. I’m psyching myself out of it you see, or better yet i’m drowning myself on these babies.” As you drank your first glass empty. “My eternal companion, the love of my life…”

He turned to your direction, only to see you hugging the bottles of wine that you bought.

He turned to your direction, only to see you hugging the bottles of wine that you bought.

“Come on clear the tables, your babies are not going anywhere.” He declared as he puts down 3 steaks and some aglio olio with honestly way too much garlic because it’s Yoongi.

“I didn’t saw you made pasta also. I am so happy now.” You happily exclaimed as you took a bite of your new favorite steak. “But why the 3 steaks? You hungry?”

He sat in front of you, filling your glass with wine and his too.

“You need food before you chug them all up. I’m not gonna clean up your mess. So you better get it together today. I tell you.” He scolded you.

“Sure sure.” As you immediately devour the pasta he made.

One bottle of wine down. He let you listened to a ‘sketch’ he’s been working on lately. Carefully studying your already flushed face for any reaction. He does this sometimes, ask for your opinion even though you have zero idea about music and producing or anything related to that for that matter.

All he considers is whether you winced at the melody of it, or you nod and eventually smile as it goes. But this time you’re just staring blankly in your wine glass, circling it repeatedly as the sketch ended at exactly 2 mins and 19 secs. And when it ended you looked straight at him.

“This looks like it’s almost done right?” You commented. “Yeah.” As he gulps on his wine, emptying another glass.

“And you wrote the lyrics also?” He nodded.

You looked away and sighed. “It’s too beautiful—Sad and in pain, feels tormented also but beautiful.”

He blinked several times at your words. You’ve heard several of his sketches before and you’d just always say, ‘it sounds good, but Yoongi—i have no idea about music. Zero.’ But he’d let you hear it anyway for couple more times and he’d smile at your ignorant reactions.

This time however, doesn’t seem like a laughing matter. Something about your words got his heart beating faster and he has no idea if its just the amount of alcohol he has consumed by now or just you.

You clinked on his empty glass. And asked, “You want more?” He nodded. And you poured him another. “Remember the girl, I introduced to you before?” You stopped and think for a second and it dawned to you. “Hell yeah, I remember.”

“She’s actually my ex-girlfriend.” He declared.

“Well that I did not expected. The ex part. I can tell though she looks really special.”

“Well, we’re together for a while. But now we’re just co-workers for this debut song of a girl I told you about before. That’s why she was here also the last time, we were looking through old sketches that I have after the meeting. We actually finished that quite early. ”

He never really talked that much about himself. He’s good at talking about work, which for you is already more than enough. You know that despite your living situation, he’s not really obligated to get personal if he doesnt want to. And besides, you also don’t want to. Your end of the rope for sure is scared of any form of vulnerability anyway—so you’re not expecting or demanding that from anybody else.

“So you’re just co-workers now?”

“Yeah, I think so. I really don’t know what I feel.”

“Well, relationships are messy my friend.” Raising your glass of wine as if to cheers and chugging it in one go.

Not sure of what to say next but he looks like he’s in mood to talk but the topic looks too sensitive to even crack a joke so you continued drinking despite the eerie atmosphere.

“If you dont mind me asking, what happened?” Yes, despite your immense effort to hold yourself back. Like any other novel you read, you have this eager feeling to know how it ends. Your mind is literally shouting, ‘But I gots to know!!’

And so you asked. Half fearing for your life for being too nosy and half expecting that you might be up for a good story. Elbows resting on the table, with your chin at the palm of your hand looking eager to hear the story.

“We’ve been together for a while”

“Yeah, you said that already.. and that she’s a song writer. I figured.” Unconsciously saying your thoughts out loud.

“You wanna tell the story instead?” He teasingly reacted in a straight face.

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud… I literally said that in my mind and my mouth just burst it open. They both can’t coordinate that well. I’m sorry. You may continue…sir. Please don’t cut my head off.” You love teasing him.

“You’re drunk.” He was pointing out the obvious by that time, after two bottles of wine.

“Yes she’s a songwriter. They said before thay she’s the words to my melody. Well… before.”

Something about those words just made your heart ache. Frowning in his words you continue to listen.

“We’re together for about 2 years? And then on and off after…. She cheated on me, slept with another producer from another company. I really thought that was the end but after that i still accepted her. I don’t know why.”

“Aigoo you dumbass solider of love. And then??” Continuously frowning in frustration led you to keep on drinking.

He has no plans of actually telling this story tonight, it just poured out. You’re just one of those people that actually listens. He has seen you before, how intensely you focus on a movie or in a book that it bothers you for day. You love hearing stories and your willingness felt like a safe space for his unspoken scars.

“She keeps coming back to me and I keep accepting her. That’s it.”

With a confused look on your face, “I don’t get it.”

“Like you said, relationships are messy.” He’s obviously trying to close the topic already but that’s not going to stop you—you never stop midway of the story. This is not how it ends.

“Messy is one thing, toxic is another. And since when are you a coward? You don’t strike me as one. Really.” ‘Yeah i was.’ Yoongi thought in his head. Words are just literally pouring out of your mouth by now, drowning yet another glass. Yoongi opening your forth bottle.

“Boy, I bought the wrong alcohol tonight, tequila would’ve been perfect.” You declared as he pours you a refill. He laughed at this comment, he kept wondering sometimes how easy it is for you to make him laugh.

“No but all kidding aside… Hard question coming in, Min Yoongi. Do you still love her?” Looking right at his eyes and him staring back at you as he answered. “No, we broke up a month before I moved in here.”

‘That’s quite a while, at least 9 or 10 months now…’ you thought to yourself

“Yeah but having been broken up doesn’t mean that love is gone. It’s not a switch you know.”

“I know. And I wish it was, she’s was a big part of my life I’m not denying that and maybe she always will be. But I’ve changed, she has changed—we’re no longer the same people that we were in the same relationship where I keep questioning my self worth. That’s done now, over. Love took a turn, and it doesn’t look the same anymore. We’re just co-workers now that’s all.”

You like the way he said it. Being no longer the same people that they were. You nodded in his statement not sure what to say next and also feeling a little dizzy.

“I gotta pee.” You suddenly declared and stood up, ran in small steps to the bathroom with Yoongi smiling at you and shaking his head.

And when you got back, he got you a warm water on your favorite mug.

Your thoughts are all over the place when you’re drunk, like you said—your mouth just spills it all out.

“You know what, this is all very brave of you. Being friends with your ex, I can’t imagine.”

“Why? Can’t you?” Staring blankly and holding onto your mug, eyes blinking fast in this question.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never really done it before, I’ll let you know if I can.”

You’ve been staring hard on your mug contemplating on his question. He gently touched your hand that’s been holding your mug and said, “Just drink your water.” And pulled it away as soon as you looked like your soul has comeback to earth.

“Can’t I…?” You repeated the question again, and this time out loud.

Hands underneath your chin and resting your elbows on the table. Yoongi is just staring at you, hands in his cheeks—thumb underneath his chin, not even sure if you can even see him. “I hate your question.” You looked at his eyes this time and said that and he just smiled and when he did, you narrowed your eyes. “I hate your smile too.” And this time, he gave you an even bigger one, those gummy smile. And whenever he smiles at you like that you just can’t help but grin in return.

You chugged the water and showed him your empty mug.

He got up and put the rest of the unopened bottle of wine back to the fridge just to prevent you from opening yet another. With his back facing you, arranging the couple of bottles left unto your fridge.

“Yoongi-ah, I know and I love how we respect each other’s privacy and all but just in case things get too heavy. I’m always here, you know. I mean, I’m really glad about today.”

He looked back at you, hands underneath your chin again and eyelids looking all heavy.

“Same goes for you, I’m always here…” And he turned his back again, “fixing you some food and light bulbs.”

And that statement made you smile. “Indeed, my friend. Indeed.”

He went back to the table and grabbed your wine glass and emptying it for you.

“So you wanna talk about how nothing went right today?” You sighed with your eyes closed.

“Maybe next time, my friend.” You stood up from the dinning table, offered to clean the rest of the dishes but Yoongi insisted that he’d do it instead. So you just nodded and slowly creep back into your room.

“Thanks for today, Yoongi.” You thanked him before you go, peeking behind the wall near the counter and he just smiled at you, cleaning gloves on and started washing the dishes.

Minutes later, you shouted from inside of your room.

“Hey i’ll be in the bathroom for a while. Hope you’re already done using it.”

Yoongi didnt answer. He’s already in his room.

You sat in the tub filled with water that is too hot for anyone else but not for you. Head all dizzy and pounding. It’s 2 am and nothing is more comforting than the silence of it all. Alcohol keeps you awake, more than coffee ever does. The dizziness, the feeling that is drilling in your head, makes it hard for you to sleep. Despite the fact that you always drink. You always drink on an empty stomach though, just so you’re sure you would pass out and not have a hard time sleeping.

But tonight you can’t say no—Yoongi made dinner and as much as you hate how you’re having a hard time now you don’t regret it. The question he said, still lingers. And you know your answer to this, you can’t.

Along with the headache, comes the memories you rarely remember—there are just some special days where somehow the guilt and regret still comes to you in waves, together with conversations you long to let go.

“You can’t be serious?” Joon said, voice cracking with hand on his hair in frustration. “But I am.” With a straight face you answered, “I can’t marry you, Joon. I don’t want to have kids and I know how much you want to have children.” Feeling the desperation in his face and actions, he held your hands close and hugged you. “I love you, I want to marry you. We don’t need to have kids immediately, that’s years away. We don’t have to even worry about that now.” It hurts you to seem him this way, yes both of you may be young—maybe you will change your mind but there’s no guarantee to it. You held onto his shoulder to see his face, tears kept rolling down his face and you keep wiping it off one by one. You’ve thought about this even just a year into the relationship, with all the dad jokes and tiny little shoes he kept in his room. He’s going to be a wonderful dad you thought—maybe not just to your kids because you don’t want one.

The most wonderful man in the world just asked you to marry him a few minutes ago, and now he’s crying on your shoulder in defeat. While you can’t even bring yourself to cry, everything about this just made you numb. You just know you’re doing the right thing. Keeping him by your side with a promise of a future you can’t guarantee is not what love is. You loved him—even much so that you could ever admit.

With the knock on the door, you went back to reality.

“Hey you in there?” His voice echoing at 2 in the morning.

“Yeah, I’ll be here still for a while. You need it?”

“No, it’s okay.” He quietly said, as you heard his footsteps getting farther away.

moodboard sr: x

[asturlavi]

oh boy, do i have wonderful beast oda/odazai info for you all since this may just be my favorite chapter in all of beast. it clarified a lot about oda's state in this au, and how sad it truly is, especially with all that dazai has done to ensure that oda's safety is certain

before i start, this was initially intended to be a quirky little twitter thread that’s supposed to be kicked off with a badly drawn doodle of something meme. the thread was supposed to be about how wonderfully dumb odasaku can be and how annoyingly frustrating dazai is in the latest beast chapter... and then it slowly devolved into a crudely written essay about small discoveries i’ve made that most likely haven’t been pointed out before, so i recommend that anyone interested in either oda or odazai to check this out 

so i finally got around to reading the new beast chapter and seeing how odasaku constantly devalues himself and finds that he's lesser than the average person is… sad. its been said that him and ranpo are the stars of the ada, every mission trivial with their cooperation, and yet he doesn't see any of that. thinks he struck luck when it came to his entrance exam, which he specifies that it wasn't as a result of his own skills. his inferiority complex is embedded so deep that despite his achievements, he doesn't at all believe he has any worth as a human.

i'm just a tired, ordinary man like you could find anywhere. a third-rate detective, as unexceptional as a fallen cigarette butt on the road.

and his entrance exam was just like dazai's: the azure messenger case, which we all know wasn't at all a walk in the park. one mistake, and it would spell disaster for the city that the ada was trying to protect. no--not just the city, it would also mean the end of the ada as we know it. despite it all, he resolved it much to his own surprise, and it was all thanks to an "unexpected" gift. and that gift? who would it be other than from dazai himself? 

beast light novel ch. 3

(also, this is a shaky claim at best but I feel as if oda fully holds the capabilities to solve the case alone, but dazai knew that with odasaku's persistent feelings of self-doubt, along with his lack of some of the vivacity that dazai held to weasel his way through to information, the outcome of success wouldn’t be guaranteed. and so, dazai lent him something to ensure his success)

and yet, oda is blind to see truly how much intellect and skill he possesses. he doesn't realize how integral he was to the quest of the azure messenger, doesn't acknowledge that without him these orphans would have either slipped into a life of crime, gone to a downtrodden orphanage, or simply passed away, and he doesn't know that despite it all, he's one of the purest characters in the story, even with the darkness that will forever cling to him, a reminder of the violence that marred his past.

not to mention that oda, in one way or another, effectively analyzed the current situation that they're stuck in. he noted that if things currently go the way they're going, no matter what akutagawa achieves, him and his sister are doomed. so, oda brilliantly decided to go after the port mafia itself to prepare for this possibility, and it's nothing short of genius. and dazai plays along with this… because it is oda, after all. 

and everything dazai did, everything he sacrificed, it was all for oda.

now to the underlying tragedy of this chapter. take a look at this panel: 

ever since then, i've been making a living by solving requests that come to the detective agency.

i provide for the orphans

i drink coffee.

i gamble a bit on days off.

at night, i write a novel in the kitchen. 

that's my life.

nothing unusual, right? you'd think that odasaku was satisfied with life, since he has everything he had ever wished for. but in all actuality, he still lacks one important thing.

and that's friendship.

his words sounded so… empty. achieving ones dreams is but one aspect of life that brings one gratification, but doesn't necessarily mean it would guarantee lasting happiness. (think of famous actors or celebrities that spiral into depression even after they've achieved their dreams).

in that panel, he says he cares for the orphans, gambles, and writes alone in his spare time, but not a word of spending time with friends… something he had in the root universe, something that was lost to him in this one.

and he says this all with his face blacked out, as if he's somewhat implicitly dissatisfied (while the kid's faces are present, not at all concealed).

with dazai, he found peace in a place where peace is rare to find. They both completely put their guard down with each other around, and dazai can relax his overly speculative mind with oda. and they understood each other, a level of understanding rare to come by. dazai with his dark jokes easily flies past oda's ears because that's what they are, harmless jokes. and oda with his blunt honesty, which dazai cherishes and never prods him for it.

dazai also saw things in oda that oda was blind to. dazai saw a world of beauty in oda, the ray of light beneath a cloudy sky. he saw both intelligence and wisdom, kindness and generosity. and most of all, he trusted oda, despite dazai’s natural inclination to distrust.

and what oda saw in dazai was vulnerability. despite the front that dazai puts, he can be kind, even empathetic, when the situation calls for it. dazai once gave akutagawa a decision to turn his back against dazai’s offer to join the port mafia, when logic points to the fact that he didn't have to, but wanted to.

dazai also consistently gives atsushi words of advice and shows understanding when dazai was under no obligation to, such as atsushi facing the loss of his previous caretaker. dazai gave atsushi genuine advice, not laced with any malice or ill intent. dazai had even left atsushi to grieve alone, fully understanding that atsushi needed to pour his emotions out in private. there’s more than enough instances of dazai showing this side of himself in both the light novels and manga, but it seems to sometimes be brushed aside. even though the main cast of characters always dismissed this side of dazai, oda has always known that this side of dazai was his truest self.

oda and dazai also talked endlessly about trivial things, calling each other daily for two hours for no reason other than that they each enjoy one another's company. it's pure, wholesome love. they had a mutual trust and understanding between one another, which ango, another friend of theirs, severely lacked in his friendship with them.

oda's dream was to write, gone unfulfilled in the root universe, but he died happily knowing that the one he cares for is living in the path of light. dazai's was to find a reason to live, which he found in oda, and continues to use this as motivation long after oda passed.

in beast, dazai's dream was cut short, ultimately leading to his demise at the end. after all, his one reason to live is now robbed from him. however, oda's dreams have become a reality, but can one really say he achieved happiness? he has the orphans, his children, but they will never understand him like dazai had. he has peace, but is it the form of peace he wanted? spending time alone, on things like gambling, while endlessly mulling how he has no one to spend this time with?

and writing, his one true wish that dazai made absolutely sure to make a reality. but was it worth it, at the cost of a friend who brought happiness and reprieve when everyone else failed to?

i thought of this tale as a matter of equivalent exchange, you lose one life in exchange for another. the scales do remain somewhat balanced, but not over a matter of lives. it's over a matter of personal sacrifices, ones only known to us readers.

and i say "somewhat" because in the root universe, dazai remembered oda when he was alive, so well that dazai can recall memories to near perfection. but oda had completely forgotten dazai in beast, chasing after absent memories and deluding himself into thinking his life is perfect, while numbing himself from the aching hole of loneliness that consumes him inside.

also, oda is surely happy spending time with the children, but what about his lonesome hours? who is he going to spend that time with, in a world without dazai, the only person who understood him and his oddities?

ah, and remember this moment in the root universe? 

now, take a look at this again. no, look closer 

odasaku wasn’t merely gambling for the sake of it, he was gambling on a horse race. and before dazai was arrested in the root universe, he was seen doing just that. 

now, why would odasaku do this? he surely doesn’t seem the type to gamble away his money on something as silly as horse races, because what does someone gain while they pour their money into something so senseless? 

and the only reason i could arrive to is that dazai must have dragged him along to one. dazai is a port mafia executive, with more money than he knows what to do with and a boatload of depression. money probably disinterests him as much as life does, and he used gambling to kill two birds with one stone: ridding of money he doesn’t need, and distracting him from his boredom (and depression). 

and it doesn’t end there. remember when dazai in dead apple had visited bar lupin to pay his regards to odasaku, while reliving a pleasant memory dazai had with him? and he did this because he was preparing for a quest that may result in with the loss of his life, psyching himself up for what’s to come. this is probably bordering on speculation, but i believe that that’s precisely what he did once again in the horse races. dazai paid a visit to a place that oda and him had frequented, to prepare for another dangerous quest. 

also, note that immediately after exiting bar lupin in dead apple, dazai was confronted by ango, which kicked off the start of dazai’s plans. a similar thing happens in the manga, dazai spending time in a place that he and oda had gone to, this time the horse races, and his plan whirls into motion as jono arrests him. i think these similarities are deliberate, in order to establish their significance to dazai and oda. 

this long winded explanation’s purpose was only for me to go back to this panel once again, and say that everything oda spoke about doing, from spending time with his kids, to brewing coffee, to betting on horse races, and to writing in the kitchen, were all moments he had with dazai. 

and see that he has an extra chair that sits unused in the kitchen? at first, i thought it was there for the sake of being there. then, it slowly dawned on me that odasaku and dazai had noted in the dark era light novel that they made a habit of visiting each other, so it wouldn’t be illogical to conclude that it was a chair meant for dazai. a place where he can spend some private moments together with oda underneath the dimly lit kitchen, drinking in the scent of odasaku’s coffee and talking about things that distracts them from their troubles while odasaku whittles away at his manuscript. 

and one last thing before i end this out of sheer laziness, take a look at this photograph of oda from the final moments of the beast light novel.

as oda stated in the manga and light novel, he worked on his manuscript alone in the kitchen... but in the photograph, he wasn’t alone. he’s posing for a picture. relaxed, poised, as if entertaining the one taking the photo. and besides, wasn’t it dazai who insisted on taking photographs in bar lupin with ango and oda in dark era? he must have done the same in that very moment in the beast universe, but this time in anticipation of oda forgetting him. 

in the end, it seems oda and dazai left each other in similar ways, foolishly believing they've sacrificed their lives for each other to better the other's life, but all they did was create worlds where the feeling of happiness will be lost to both respective parties, while also resigning each other to a life of loneliness.

they've forgotten about their one happiness that stems from just being around one another, listening to the soothing tune of jazz playing softly as they talk into the night, the world lost to them as they're absorbed in one another's presence.

it seems like their story is a tragedy of what happens when you love someone too much, to the point that you delude yourself into thinking you're but a tool for their happiness, and with you gone, nothing will change.

but things did change, didn't they?

[prof-peach]

Hey Prof, I need your advice.

My sister recently decided she didn't wanted her bulbasaur anymore (she got him on a whim about a month ago) and gave him to me, he is quite violent and tends to attack when I try to get close to him.

Now, that wouldn't be a huge problem, but my Purrloin has gotten hurt trying to befriend him, she's quite outgoing and never really liked fighting (we enjoy contests so she knows a few more flashy attacks), so she couldn't even defend herself properly.

I don't want to give up on him and my local rescue center is filled with Bunearies (you know, after Easter kids don't want their Bunny anymore) so they can't take him in right now, any advice in how I can go about this situation?

Sounds to me like you have a tricky little dude on your hands. So you're not battle orientated which will make this harder, Bulbasaur in the wild are actually quite combat minded to defend their families and territory, and a lot of their herds consist of strict hierarchy based on power and skill, often led by older, fully evolved members of their group. 

Before you take any actions to befriend them, its worth noting that any pokemon who comes into your care showing aggression is usually doing so for one or two reasons that are pretty universal for any species. Fear being the main issue with pokemon who have been ditched, if a pokemon is unwell, if it feels exposed, if it is unsure of you or your home, your partners, it may lash out because it is afraid. Even what looks like pure anger can stem from a fear. Of course some individuals are just full of rage, its not unheard of, but for the most part it comes from somewhere else. 

For a moment, take the time to put yourself in this pokemons shoes. It was chosen, with hopes and ambitions of its own, by your sister, a stranger to them, and for whatever reason they were cast aside. This reason may be unclear to the pokemon, it may be unfair, unkind, or even without malice just out of pure indifference. No matter the reason, this pokemon has been left behind by a trainer it at one point probably wanted to try to get along with. I don’t know what your sister may or may not have done, or provided for the bulbasaur, but it will help you understand how its feeling, if you were to ask her about their relationship prior to you receiving the pokemon. If it has always been aggressive and angry, i’d seriously consider talking to it about release, not rehome. 

We humans have a preconceived notion that pokemon are pets and things to keep with us. This may be true for some sure, but not every pokemon wishes to be a captive to a human, they may want more for themselves, and wish for a free life with their own kind. We cannot put our wants and desires above that of the pokemons, so you two need to have a talk, at a respectful distance for safeties sake, to see what the Bulbasaur feels they may want. These are herd pokemon, born and bred to be with their own kind, if not a larger group, if its lonely, if it wants to go home, to start a family, or simply to not be held in a ball as some creature to be owned, then you as its current carer must give it what you can. You can always find another pokemon who wants to be your partner, but you cannot give back lost years to a pokemon who has lived a life its unhappy with. Treat them with respect, and be open and honest. At the end of the day we have a chance to help pokemon, and forcing what we want onto them is a hinderance, and will lead to them feeling unsatisfied and bitter in the long run. 

Some pokemon lash out due to the process of being handed off to someone else, trust is earnt, not always just simply given to whoever holds the pokeball. Remember this as you move forward, and try to keep your other pokemon away from them, Bulbasaur are territorial species, and have to accept pokemon into their families before simply allowing them to come and go freely into their personal space. Despite their grouchy natures at times they usually do have a morally positive compass, and defend with ferocity when they love something. Perhaps in you showing genuine concern for their welfare and future, offering them not what you want, but instead what they want, they may give you a chance to get closer, but take baby steps, and try to be their friend above all else. I bet they're feeling pretty lonely right now. 

Its worth sharing interests with the pokemon, talk about contests, see if they're interested, some pokemon have a predisposition for this, others have no interest and prefer more battle based lives, or even peaceful non-competitive existences. no amount of pressure will change a pokemon’s nature, and some just aren't cut out for the fine art of showmanship that contests require. You can however use powerful attacks in showy ways, so theres always hope that they could enjoy it, if you can work with them to their strengths. 

If possible, work to getting them outdoors, cooping grass types up can lead to stroppy, testing personalities, many thrive in the outdoors, he may need some serious outside time to compensate for the lack of exercise and natural stimulation they may have not been getting prior to your ownership. There are plenty of areas in public that are much like tennis courts, areas of space you can book for a set amount of time too exercise difficult pokemon, these locations are often secure facilities, both outdoors and indoors, to suit a range of species. find one that has outdoor facilities and book a few hours per week to go there, increasing the time whenever possible. This exercise and time with you may help to find common ground, and topics that you and the bulbasaur can bond over. This can be anything from battles, to sun bathing, playing sports, games, swimming, running or digging, and everything in between. Bulbasaur naturally are great foragers and tend to like to snaffle about in long grass and shrubland, hiding treats like berry slices in a secure environment is good enrichment and can tire the pokemon out. a tired pokemon is usually a little less aggressive, having lower energy levels and less want to expend attacks. this process also associated you with something fun, and your scent will be on the treats too, so they'll know you were the one to provide this activity for them.   

I’d also take plenty of time to observe the bulbasaur, as your sister got them on a whim, they probably had no prior knowledge of the species, or how to correctly care for them. In a month, a health complaint could have begun to show, so observe their colouration, feet, walking gait, sleeping patterns, feeding habits, and general behaviour. Excess scratching, heavy breathing, or unusual shaking or moving can suggest a health condition is starting to take form. Most can be helped if caught early, but some illnesses give the pokemon discomfort, and can lead to snappy tempers and irritability. It could be that this individual is in pain, or finding life difficult due to its health, which can cause a lot of hostility as i’m sure anyone would agree. It can suck to be sick!

This species can be won over if you can prove you have a skill of worth to them. This is the case with a lot of pokemon, having respect for something they cannot do, and learning that they need things from you can lead to them at least tolerating us humans. Its a foot in the door. A trick i like t use with particularly difficult bulbasaur is to give them their fav food, whatever it is, then put it in a clear container the pokemon cannot open. They have no thumbs, and their vines though dexterous, aren't able to open every kind of container. The pokemon will want whats inside, and be unable to access it. they will eventually give up out of frustration. this is where you come in. enter the space, don’t let your pokemon approach as this can be threatening, and open the container. leave it on the floor open, making sure they've watched you get the thing open. They can then approach and enjoy their fav food, all thanks to you and those wondrous thumbs you have. repeating this process yields good results, and starts a mutual relationship of tolerance and acceptance between you and a bulbasaur. Most will accept they want the food more than they want you gone, and you provide something they can’t get to. whatever you do, don’t let them see that you were the one to lock the food up in the container. Get a friend to do it, or do it in the room, and leave it in place on the floor, before allowing the bulbasaur to enter and investigate the item. If they see you're the one doing it, the trick is foiled, and your back to square one. Eventually this does tend to lead to the pokemon becoming less stressed with you around them, and eventually it leads to trust, and even friendship. This trick is good to use to get them use to you, once they're ok with you being around them because of your use to them, they may start to take food from you directly, engage in play, or even just sit and tolerate company for short periods of time. Do not expect this to be quick, but it does usually do the trick. 

Regardless, i do have concern that the pokemon may want to be with its own, should you discuss this and find they're not interested in being housebound and a pet, feel free to send them our way, we had exactly this situation in mind when setting up the islands facilities, and have extensive locations designed with grass pokemosn needs at the forefront. Theres a small herd of about 12 bulbasaur evolutions that live north of our labs, no people see them, they are happy as a unit, and are left alone to go about their lives, with the only interactions between humans being us giving them their yearly health check, or should we spot them with an issue, we may intervene. They live away from others and pretty much free, in a poacher safe environment. Its not ideal, we like to keep pokemon in areas they come from, with people who love them, and you show great concern for the pokemon so it would be a shame to have to let them go, BUT sometimes thats just life, and theres nothing to be done about it other than accepting that the pokemons wants come first. They may just be mistrusting so try everything else first, and see how you go. hopefully you’ll yield some results from this all. Good luck out there trainer. 

[enjennie]

In The Limelight [chenle x reader]

Summary: Tutoring the CEO’s son, when you’re barely interested in business. And falling for him, when you knew nothing about love.

Genre: Fluff. Rich kid!Chenle Tutor!Reader

Warnings: None

a/n: not proofread! I’ve been in a slump lately ☹ my works haven’t been satisfying me but I hope you enjoy this! btw omg this is a reupload bc the first time... somehow, the paragraphs were jumbled up? 

 “Y/N, there are flowers on your desk,” your classmate gestures behind them to the classroom you were headed to before quickly passing by. You could only nod, a little taken aback by the sudden information you received. Flowers? As far as you know, Valentine’s had passed, so has white day and it’s definitely not your birthday.

But as you enter your classroom, the bundle of flowers catching your eyes, you knew one thing for sure was from who it was. As you approach your desk, you lift the thoughtful gift and inspect the small card attached to the string that tied it beautifully together. ZCH, it read in cursive.

 “How was your day?” Chenle’s voice can be heard from the other line, the smile on his face almost something you can hear along with it.

“It was great! Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re delightful,” you beamed, eyes landing at the arrangement that now sat on your vanity. Chenle chuckles, his laughter sending serotonin to run through your body.

“Not a problem, I’m glad you like them,”

“Though I’d appreciate if you gave them to me yourself,” you cheekily continued. Chenle could only smile, his face softening at your request. It was a simple request. Yet, he couldn’t do it.

When you notice the silence that follow, you immediately regret what you said. You desperately try to backtrack, sputtering out words. “Well- I mean-, It’s fine- Thank you, still! I love them,”

Chenle hums, “I know. Don’t worry. You’ll wait though… right? It won’t be long,”

You plant your feet to your carpeted floor and nod, even if he can’t see you. “Of course, Lele,”

 Zhong Chenle is the son of the most respected CEO of one of the biggest corporations in Shanghai the entire world. Chenle was the next in line to the company. After his brother had expressed how the business world didn’t interest him, the responsibility immediately fell into Chenle’s hands. And even if music was his love and calling, he had to let it go as to not disappoint his father.

Chenle had accepted it some time ago, going to school only for the degree so he could be eligible to own the business. He accepted the fact that he was going to be living the life his father made for him, not one he made for himself and it was the hardest pill to swallow. But things changed when he met you. There was more purpose to the things he does, it wasn’t just for nothing. Life had gone from monochromatic to colorful.

 “Miss, Y/N. Mr. Zhong just moved and he has to take this class to pass the semester. I trust you can fill him in with our module? Mr. Zhong, this is Miss. Y/N, she scored the highest during midterms,” your world economics professor had marched towards you after class, a tall boy following behind her. He looked just as oblivious as she did, to the sudden weight and pressure being put on you.

You merely nod and say a simple hello, not being able to say anything else. It wasn’t a question, this was a demand. Jeez if I was gonna teach your student I should get a portion of your pay. You thought bitterly. At the time, you were struggling to juggle a part-time job at a café while also maintaining your grades to keep your scholarship.

When your professor left you two, the boy kept his hands buried in his pockets. His clothes were semi-casual and his hair was styled nicely. Who the hell moves halfway through the year?

“So, Mr. Zhong-“ you take your books into your arms and lazily sling your bag over your shoulder, heading towards the door with him trailing behind you.

“Chenle-, You can call me Chenle,” he finally spoke, startling you a little with how cool and soft his voice is as opposed to his striking visual that intimidated you at first.

“Nice to meet you, Chenle,” you give him a smile.

You were gonna be around this guy for who knows how long, might as well try to be his friend. Maybe it’ll make the teaching less of a chore.

  “Wrong,” you huffed, marking his essay and adding in annotations. “Chenle, remember there is a specific way to start these essays and that’s by defining the terms you’re using,”

The boy sat opposite of you, arms crossed and back against the couch comfortably. You were in a café. The café you worked in, to be precise. Your schedule today overlapped with Chenle’s and as much as you didn’t want him to see you slaving around, you also couldn’t miss this paycheck at the café. You gave him an essay to write just to check on his phrasing and structure and left to buss some tables and serve orders. But when you came back, Chenle barely wrote anything and could care less about it.

“Can we not study today?” he whined.

You and Chenle have been meeting each other for a month now, and you’d soon learned about the type of boy he is, the life he led. In ways you didn’t expect to.

 The first time you found out about Chenle’s reputation was through the newspaper. No, not the school newspaper. Not even the local newspaper. But on the Wallstreet Journal, when you had to grab material from any recent article for a class. Chenle’s name floated along with the words ‘Young entrepreneur’ and their company’s name. You gasped so loud you had to excuse yourself from the library and leave in a hurry. That afternoon you smacked him on the shoulder with your thick world econ textbook.

“You’re from a family of business corporates and you’re learning world economics from someone who crammed the exam?” you exclaimed. He stared at you blankly, book in hand and pen in the other.

“And you don’t pay me!” you added. The fact that you’ve been tutoring someone as rich as Chenle just didn’t make sense to you. Why not go to a professional? Instead, he was here with a sleep deprived college student who sometimes mixes up business terms just because she couldn’t care any less. World Economics was a mandatory for you. You studied to pass, sadly.

“I could start paying you, name the price,” he said easily. But you shook your head.

“I didn’t mean it that way, sorry. I actually don’t care about the money,” You led him to the picnic bench with the table outside school grounds and propped your book on it along with your bag before taking out your bento box. “Just blows my mind how you won’t just pay for the classes. I don’t teach that well-” you continue.

“I like you, though,” Chenle calmly interjects. You look up at the boy, movements being halted by his bold statement.

“Pardon?” you felt the need to have him clarify what he said.  The boy leaned across the table, over your textbooks and notes. “I like you,” Chenle repeated himself, but the impact it had on you was just as powerful and hit you hard. Your heart was doing somersaults.

Chenle’s eyes grew thin as he smiled, backing away from you and sitting back down.

“So, chapter 12,” he starts flipping his book nonchalantly, leaving you out of breath with a heart hammering in your chest.

  “What do you mean not study today? You have an upcoming quiz with Mr. Byun this Friday and mind you, that man searches for wrongs, not rights,” you raised a finger at him, shaking it matter-of-factly.

“No, let me help you. Do you usually run the café on your own?” he closes the book and takes his essay from your hand. You’re left slack jawed.

“No. I- Johnny couldn’t come in today,” you explained. Suddenly, you were stammering as if explaining to your boss. At first, you were doubting if it was the same Chenle you were reading about in the articles. The boy you were tutoring didn’t come off as someone who would be running corporates and buying stocks or whatever. He was more laid back and relaxed. Aside from the way he dressed, nothing gave it away that he was indeed the CEO’s son. But there were times where you got a dominant feel from him. Times when he stood with much authority and didn’t accept no for an answer. In those moments, you realize how Chenle’s presence alone demanded respect.

Soon enough, you found yourself behind the counter with Chenle beside you tying the apron to himself. He looked cute, somehow. The way he smiled at customers and tried giving them their recommendations set butterflies run free in your stomach, you almost swooned. He didn’t get much studying done that day, but you surely did. You learned the fact that you falling slowly but surely with Zhong Chenle.

  There were two chapters you’re left to cover. In the short month and a half, you managed to teach Chenle six month’s worth of topics. Seeing him every other day made Chenle a familiar face to see around. Of course, you never actually got to see him around campus when you weren’t tutoring him. It left you wondering if you were actually teaching a ghost. But all doubts went away when the girls in your class started whispering about the cute boy waiting outside class. You quickly found out it was Chenle who they were talking about, and he was there for you. It was safe to say he wasn’t a ghost and is in fact real.

Carrying his book bag, he was stood against the wall with reading material under his arm.

“Chenle, we don’t have a schedule today,” you walk up to him, trying to avoid the dozen pairs of eyes that watched you. Chenle nodded, “Sorry, I won’t be here tomorrow. My father is bringing me on a business trip,” he states.

It wasn’t new for you to hear this coming from Chenle. Just the other week, his father brought him along to Japan for a company deal and Chenle came back with a little keychain souvenir for you. The same keychain dangled from your bag now as you both walked to the exit of the building. “Are you free?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t bring my book with me tod-“ you begin searching in your bag, even if you knew it wasn’t there. You were just trying to ignore the way his question made your heart jump.

“I mean… for dinner. Are you free for dinner?” he places a gentle hand on yours, stopping you from looking further in your bag. Chenle’s bold movements sometimes took him by surprise as well. He quickly retracts his hand, shoving it in his pockets. You let go of your bag, placing your hands on either side of you.

“Why?” you squinted at him suspiciously.

Chenle’s smile is small, but doesn’t go unnoticed by you as he turns his head towards his car then back down at you. “Listen, you don’t have to overanalyze this. I just want to treat you,”

  Chenle had thought about it a hundred times or more, before finally making a decision. Although you’ve been seeing each other in cafes and libraries for some time now, he didn’t want to consider those as dates. Sure, it gave him time to admire you up close and get to know you but he wanted you to know his true intentions. The only problem was boy, was he a wuss. And were you oh so dense!

Despite the subtle and not so subtle hints he’s given you, you remained clueless about his feelings. Unsure, confused and just downright oblivious. From the way he looked at you to how he vocally told you he liked you. You shoved everything under the rug, afraid that this boy was just toying around with you and having a laugh. He found it cute.

 It didn’t matter that you were in your school clothes, carrying about three thick books in your shoulder bag. He thought you looked stunning. You ate at a pizzeria just in town and he expressed how it tasted just like pizza from Italy. You said you wouldn’t know the difference since you’ve never been, and had a laugh about it.

The walk from his car to your apartment wasn’t that far, it’s just that he had to park a little further since there was no more space left in front. As you walked together, you noticed how the vibe and atmosphere between you two that developed as the night deepened, was different. More lax, comfortable. Like friends? You were both silent, until Chenle piped up.

“I lied, I didn’t just want to treat you,” he muttered, looking into the distance of your quiet street.

You turn your face towards him and you catch a glimpse of his face in the moonlight before looking away. He’d taken your bag from you and had it around his shoulder now. Him in his white polo shirt and brown suit jacket. He was always dressed like he was attending some kind of formal event. That’s Chenle for you. Mr. CEO’s son.

“Then?” you prompted him to continue.

Chenle averts his attention towards you as you finally reached the front of your apartment. You both stop walking, facing each other with the moon as your spotlight. You look at him from the light of the moon, it illuminated Chenle’s features perfectly. You would be able to inspect him when he studied, but each look at him made you breathless every time you had to look away. Much like right now.

“I wanted to take you out. Like, on a date,” Chenle confesses.

You could never wrap your head around how bold Chenle could be. Always leaving you flustered after saying such things, this boy was your weakness. But you didn’t give in. At least, you tried not to.

“Oh,” was your only response as you put your hands together, looking up at the tall boy. You hoped it wasn’t obvious that heat was rushing to your cheeks and ears by now. You could practically feel your blood flowing through your body, making you feel warm all over. “It was fun, I enjoyed it,” you shyly admit.

Chenle takes a step forward, raising his hand to palm your cheek gently. It’s the first time he’s ever gotten this close. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for my world yet,” his voice is lower, cool. Like wind.

You part your lips slightly, willing yourself to breathe. Your breath is unstable, shaky. This time, you take a step forward. “Are you underestimating me?” You don’t know where the surge of confidence came from, but you were thankful for it. The look of surprise is quickly melted into amusement as this was definitely the first time you ever made the second move to the dozens of times he’d left you flustered.

Chenle dips his head down close to your face. Eyes trained on each other, you tried to get yourself to breathe. He looked alluring, and you watch his eyes drop to your lips. Your head had become blank, nothing in mind. Just him. Chenle, and nothing else. His calm eyes, button nose and plump lips that you so very badly wanted to press against yours. “Are you sure?” he whispers.

You close the space between you and Chenle, lining your lips with his and connecting them together. The sensation almost sending you on your knees, you grab onto his shoulder for support and he holds you up by the waist, swiftly wrapping his strong arms around you. It felt like such a big relief, you almost sighed.

When you pulled away, Chenle’s smile comes into view as you fluttered your eyes open. He places his hand at the back of his head and scratches, suddenly becoming shy. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“You’re something else,” you giggle, smacking his arm before snatching your bag from his shoulder and turning on your heel to leave. You feel his hand against yours, forcing you to stop. “I’ll see you after my trip?” he asks.

“Same time… for class,” you reply, looking back at him with a cheeky smile. Chenle lets your hand go, a smitten smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest. Zhong Chenle wished things were simpler. He wanted to give you the world.

 “It’s just a black tie party and my dad’s forcing me to come with a date,” he fixes himself in the mirror. He looked handsome, as always. In an all-black suit that fit him perfectly. Dressed like he had someplace to be, people to meet.

You sat on your bed behind him, arms folded and face scrunched up into a frown. A date. Probably someone from a rich family, better than you, his future spouse. They’d have perfect little babies together. All these bitter thoughts were flooding in your brain. When he notices your unusual quietness, Chenle turns to face you and gives you a goofy smile.

“What’s on your mind?” he approaches the bed, placing either hands on the side of you and leaning in close. Chenle could tell when you lied and knew exactly how to make you crack. You pull your knees to yourself and don’t bother hiding the scowl forming on your face. You couldn’t do anything about it. After several talks with Chenle, he explained how much pressure he gets from the media and his family. How dating even became a hassle because of how the pressure would then be shared with his partner.

For years, it wasn’t a problem. He didn’t find anyone that sparked his interest, and only had meaningless one night stands. He was fine with it, really. But all of that changed when he met you. For once, he wanted to go after something he loved. Not let it go, unlike what he did with his own passion for the sake of his father’s dream and business.

You shook your head, ridding the thoughts in your head and throwing them out. “Nothing. I know it’s just business. Message me when you get home?” you didn’t need to ask, but you still do. Chenle always kept you updated, whether if it was how the party he’s in has a chocolate fountain or if the bathrooms have automatic toilets. It was always bizarre hearing about his stories and taking a peek of what his world is like. The world of corporates. You weren’t ready for it, and Chenle knew.

 The secrecy of your relationship didn’t last very long, soon enough it’s got media questioning who Chenle was seeing and your status. After a few run-ins with the paparazzi, you both decided it would be best if your meetups were more discreet. Luckily, the cameras hadn’t captured your face yet, but it was only a matter of time until they did.

To top it all off, the news had spread across campus. Girls left and right claiming they were the one dating Chenle, it didn’t bother you too much. You had a scholarship to keep and a job to go to. Sometimes, you’d find a single rose and a letter waiting for you in class, or at the café. Of course, you and Chenle had wrapped up the tutorial classes and he was able to pass the exam. He was one step closer to his degree, but happy wasn’t the word to describe him.

He yearned to be with you, have you in his arms and spend hours together just like you used to before things got complicated. Chenle grew lonely without your presence as months passed. Nonetheless, you hung onto the string of hope that maybe one day people wouldn’t care so much. That you could take all the criticism, the heat.

 It was around 2am when your phone rang, disturbing your slumber. It was a Friday night and you took it upon yourself to catch up on some sleep after the horrendous exam week you just faced. Chenle had said goodnight hours ago. You wondered who could be calling at such an ungodly hour.

You pick up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Chenle’s voice filled your ear. Your eyes snap open and you shot up from your bed, pulling the phone away from your ear. Sure enough, it was him. Lele, with a little heart beside the name.

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask worriedly. His voice sounded slow and there was rustling behind him.

Chenle lets out a groan, and your heartbeat picks up its pace. You knew better than to think Chenle would cheat, but it was definitely worrying hearing this without any idea what was going on. “I miss you,” he breathed, voice raspy and low. You couldn’t keep the smile from appearing on your face. In the darkness of your room, your heart swelled with joy. “I miss you too, Chenle,” you whispered back.

Distinct voices come through the line, and you make it out to be Jeno and Jaemin. They’re bickering and you hear a guitar in the mix. “We’ll leave you here, Chenle,” Jaemin calls to his friend before you hear a door close.

“Why did you call?” you ask but you were happy that he did.

“Because I can’t be there with you. Even if it’s all I want right now,” he confessed. Your smile faltered and a hint of sadness falls upon your face as he continues. He was obviously drunk, but Chenle has always been really honest because he couldn’t lie. These days however, you haven’t had the time to talk much and you knew there was a lot on his mind. It hurt to know that it’s been this, and you couldn’t do much about it. “I just want to tell everyone about us. Screw what they think, YN. You’re perfect to me,”

Hearing his words gave you a glimmer of hope. You wished he was right, you wished you could believe it.

“Chenle-“ you sighed. “I want that too,”

There was a moment of silence before his voice came through again and you thought he’d passed out drunk already. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve sacrificed so much for my father, but you’re not going to be one of them,”

His words brought the smile back to your face, tears welling up in your eyes from how happy you were to hear them. It seemed at this moment that you could battle anything, because you were with Chenle. Everything would be alright. He was here and you are too, it’s the two of you against the world.

“Tomorrow, let’s make it official,” Chenle proposed.

You bring your hand up to your lips and bite on your nails, now fully awake more than ever. “Okay,” you agreed. Chenle grins, getting up from his bed. “I’m coming over,” you can hear him walking around now, keys jangling and shoes on his wooden floor.

“You can’t drive-“ you hurriedly try to stop him, keeping in mind his state.

“I don’t drive a Tesla for nothing,” he chuckles. “I’ll be there soon,” The outgoing beeping of the call followed afterwards as he ended the call. The realization hit you a moment later.

 The next day, you and Chenle arrived in school together. He stayed the night, carrying a change of clothes in his bag. For someone who was smack drunk, he sure did pack well.

From the moment you stepped out of his car, many students were around to watch. Exchanging whispers and staring, your cheeks set aflame when Chenle pulls you by the arm, your hands connecting between you and threading together naturally. It drew the attention of many onlookers and you chewed on your bottom lip, not used to the attention.

“They’re staring,” you whisper close to him.

“Let them,” He responds. Chenle tilts your head up to meet his gaze before planting a lingering kiss on your lips, confirming people’s already forming suspicions. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”