#i wanna make people cry the way i did when i thought of these scenes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has been banned in Indonesia for providing people with access to pornographic content.

#i wanna make people cry the way i did when i thought of these scenes

alotofpockets · 3 months

Text

Confidence | 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Reneé Rapp x Reader

Summary: Reneé asks you to come to her first day off shooting Mean Girls to give her the confidence she needs to play Regina George. (based on this scene)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut

Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1.2k

-----

Reneé usually didn’t have a problem with showing off her body, she was proud of the way she looked, and often showed the world her confident side. She wore revealing outfits all the time, and never really gave a care in the world what others thought about her appearance. However, as the first day of shooting Mean Girls came closer, she started getting more and more nervous about portraying this confident character in front of the cameras.

Of course, Reneé had played Regina before, and knew the character well, but in front of the cameras it was different. On stage she got into character and played the part in front of a lot of people, but they were all sitting at a distance, and observed not only her but also the rest of the set around her. On set the cameras and the crew would be focussed on her playing the character the way they had envisioned her, of course they did the same for the other actors there, but the scene she was most worried about was Regina’s opening scene.

It didn’t take much convincing on your girlfriend’s end to get you to join her on set for the first day of shooting. You loved supporting her in person whenever you were able to. Supporting her didn’t just mean her music and her acting, you supported her in every aspect of life, and she did the same for you, that is why your relationship worked so well.

While it was an early call, Reneé still took some time to show you around the set. You hadn’t been to the Mean Girls set yet, and were looking at everything full of amusement. When you were younger, you had watched the original, and you always loved the movie, so seeing the set of the remake made you feel very nostalgic.

You sat to the side as Reneé was getting ready in the hair and make-up trailer, talking with her costars and the hair and make-up team. It was nice getting to know the girls she’d be working with for the next couple of months.

Before you headed to the set they’d be shooting at this morning, you took Reneé to the side. “I just wanted to say that you are amazing, and you look incredible. You are going to crush this scene, and every scene after. You are the perfect Regina George, and I cannot wait to see the lines we rehearsed together come to life. I love you, baby. Have fun out there, and I will be right behind the crew supporting you.” Reneé pecked your lips, “You’re the best, but shush now or you’re going to make me cry.” You both laugh, and head into the hall the scene would be shot in.

They were shooting the scene where Cady met Regina for the first time to the song ‘Meet the Plastics’. It included a close up shot of Reneé signing the song, while the camera slowly panned out, revealing more of her. It took a few takes to get the close up right, but when the crew was happy with the results, they moved on to the part that Reneé was most nervous about. It was a shot where she would sensually open her leather jacket and show off her boobs.

The first few takes were cut, “Reneé can you give us a try with some more confidence please?” The director asked and she nodded in response. Reneé looked up to you for some reassurance, and found you clenching your thighs together. You hid it well, no one else around you would notice, but Reneé knew. That familiar look in your eyes, and the subtle movements, she knew all too well. That sight alone gave her the confidence she needed to act the scene exactly how the directors had in mind.

Once the scene was done, and Reneé had quickly said bye to her co-workers she walked up to you, “I knew having you here would do the trick. Wanna head back to my trailer?” Reneé wouldn’t be in the next couple of scenes they were shooting, so she had some free time. She knew just the way she wanted to spend that free time.

After entering the trailer door behind you, Reneé pressed you up against it. Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, but a smirk started playing on your lips once you saw the look in your girlfriend’s eyes. “I told you you looked incredible.” You tease, letting your hand drag over her chest. When your hands found the zipper, you undid it the rest of the way, and took off the jacket. Your hands moved up her arms slowly until they reached the nap of her neck. “You are so beautiful, baby.” You tell her before she crashes her lips onto yours.

The kiss was instantly heated, you were very turned on from watching the scene Reneé acted in, so every small touch of your girlfriend letting her hands explore your body sent electricity throughout your body. Her lips made their way down your neck, kissing, sucking, and licking the spots you knew were going to have small bruises later. Your soft moans filled the trailer.

Reneé pulled you towards the bed in the back of the trailer. Only breaking the kiss, once you made it to the bed, so she could take off your shirt, and your bra. “So pretty.” She said before taking one of your nipples into her mouth, and swirling her tongue around the hardened bud. With one of your hands behind her back to pull her closer, and the other massaging her breasts, you fell back onto the bed.

It didn’t take long for both of your clothes to be thrown onto the ground, and your moans filled the trailer once more, as Reneé drags her finger through your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby.” Between moans you manage to say, “I told you, you looked incredible.” Reneé chuckled, “Once again proving that you are a boob girl.” Her comment made you laugh, but it got caught short as she entered one of her fingers into you, and started fucking you at a fast pace right away.

Your moans start to get so loud that you’re afraid that someone will hear you, so you pull Reneé closer and crash your lips together to muffle the noises. You felt yourself nearing your high fast, as she entered a second finger, and used her thumb to run circles around your clit. “Baby, I-” Reneé’s darkened eyes meet yours, “Fuck, I’m close.” Reneé fastens her pace even more, loving the way she can feel you tighten around her fingers. “Come for me, baby.” Her sultry voice brings you over the edge. You moan her name loudly, no longer being able to control yourself as she fucks you through your orgasm.

You let your head fall back onto the bed, while you come down from your high with a heaving chest. Reneé cleans off her fingers on the sheets, before she places soft kisses all over your face. “You did so great, baby. I should take you to set with me more often.” She says smiling down at you, admiring the way your sensitive body reacts to her soft touches.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp x you #renee rapp x y/n #reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp smut #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls movie #regina george #mean girls x reader #regina george x reader

1K notes · View notes

needle-noggins · 1 year

Text

(CW for SA, suicidal ideation) Here we go. My favorite and simultaneously least favorite panel of Vash and Knives.

I've seen a few interpretations of this scene and before we dive into the one that really struck me, let's start with the more... chill one. We're finally introduced to the third gun of Trigun, Vash's angel arm. And the way we're introduced to it involves Knives forcing him to pull the trigger. Of course, since no one knows anything about Knives, the people of Noman's Land blame Vash for Fifth Moon, and Vash likewise blames himself (this is kinda a spoiler but if you've been paying attention, it's just par for the course). However, he's not the one who pulled the trigger, Knives is. It brings up an interesting moral question of blame - do we blame the gun (and Vash, who is being used/objectified as a weapon here), or the person who wanted it to happen? Guns don't kill people, genocidal twins do!

Now for the awful interpretation, the one that makes me cry and wish Vash was real so I could hug him and pay for his therapy. And really highlights how awful Knives is and how far he'd go for his brother in his own, fucked-up way. I touched on this in a previous post about Legato and the Murder Cafe, and the whole time I was thinking about Fifth Moon but didn't want to say anything for the sake of spoilers.

So. Pay attention to the way Vash and Knives are standing. Knives, when he first grabbed Vash's head, was standing in front of him. He moves behind him to better control him and yeah, he's still controlling him via hand on head, and now he's got his other hand gripping Vash's chest, where feathers/wings are manifesting. Knives is assaulting him. If you wanna get crazy with it and say that the angel arm is kinda phallic, you could say... yeah. This is rape. I heard that specific interpretation once and while I accepted it I also don't know if that would be generally accepted or if I'd be called out for it, so I'm trying to tread lightly here.

It also doesn't escape me that of course the angel arm has feminine features like the plants - the plants that, again, humans are exploiting for their ability to create. There's a lot of feminist commentary to be made here but many people have said it better than me. Specifically I'm thinking of this one post I saw about gender fuckery and Tristamp Vash. Anyway.

Also, the atomic bomb/black hole/sun/whatever that is in the middle... It's just so powerful. It's terrifying. The eldritch body horror here is a punch to the gut. What the fuck, Trigun? I thought this was a funky space western!!!

Oh, and here's more commentary on the following few panels:

Vashussy shot, Knives is still right behind him. Yeah, I wasn't kidding about how bad this pose is for them. Knives, you sick fuck.

Vash shoots himself in the leg (a key difference from '98 trigun, lol), because of course he does, but it doesn't free him from the arm.

The arm's getting darker/the light inside is getting lighter! Stampede did an awesome job with their interpretation of the angel arm and I don't think I would have understood it without that. Also, on my first read I didn't notice that Vash is literally levitating, which is cool, but also terrifying because ?? he's not in control of that either??

Finally. A super painful, minimalist, double-page spread. Nightow loves 'em. Vash thinks he's dying (maybe?) and he wishes he had never existed. It's not suicidal ideation per se, but he wishes he didn't exist at all because he's already caused enough suffering. This is a low for him, because he believes so strongly in the concept of the Blank Ticket. (Come on, soupy brain bitch boy, get it together!) He's a monster, it's just how he was born, and he's not in control. Very specifically too, he says "we", and then changes it to "I"... he doesn't blame Knives at all, and that's very him. I want to shake him! Stop playing the martyr, Vash!

#trimax #trigunbookclub #cw assault #cw sa #ive never tagged content warnings before please help if i didnt do it well enough #cw sui ideation #vash the stampede #millions knives #also if you say ONE WORD about plancest i will kill you with my mind because you have sorely misunderstood the point here #posting this makes me so nervous ngl #dont hate me

3K notes · View notes

sourbinnie · 1 year

Text

☆ hit me where it hurts.mp3 ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ¡! ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> maknae line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> sometimes things shouldn't be said (or thought) but the words slip right out of his mouth at the worst time. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> arguments ; the boys being a little mean but instantly regretting it ; cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

hyung line

a/n: here's the maknae line version! we'll see if i can write a second part but i'm debating where i should double down on the sadness or make them have a happy ending

jisung ✉

you didn't know what shocked you more, his calm nature in argument isn't something odd but he never let it get out of hand. today he did unfortunately and it started a screaming match in your shared apartment about god knows what. like a competition to see who could hurt the other worse and guess who won? yeah not you, you won the tears that couldn't stop streaming as you remembered.

"fuck (y/n) were you always this bad? they didn't make my life this difficult." and if you were making his life so difficult then you were gonna walk out of the scene of the crime. "no, i didn't mean that. i don't know what came over me, it was just the heat of the moment. please don't fucking leave-."

"so you can keep on screaming at me? yeah no thanks, i'm going." it wasn't even the screaming that got to you, jisung could be loud and you never cared. but it felt like poison the fact that he compared you to someone he himself broke up with. "just stay away from me jisung, i can't even look at you right now."

"don't say that. i know i fucked up but i can fix it, i promise i can fix it!" he insisted but you couldn't believe a single word coming out of his mouth as you grabbed your things to leave. "baby please, i know it wasn't okay but i can't bear seeing you like this, at least promise me you'll come back?"

"i'm gonna be honest. i don't know if i will." you said and the last thing you remembered was the sadness on his face turning into pure horror and fear that you were gonna leave him forever. you couldn't even make a decision right now as you had so much in your own mind that it was getting worse & worse. as much as you loved jisung, people say things because they truly mean them right? and maybe you two were not meant for each other as you thought you were.

felix ✉

getting ignored by felix meant something was wrong and that you were in deep trouble. it got you thinking about your previous fights with him and how you handled them. you usually talked things out and told each other what you felt when he got like this but right now it seemed impossible as he dodged you every time you got close to him even though he was the one who invited you a few days ago to the dorms tonight. the tension could be caught with a knife and all the boys felt it so most of them decided to leave before it got bad except chan who looked at you two carefully and tried to figure out what was going on.

"lix can you talk to me? i don't know what's going on or why you're so distant but i would like to work things out." you said as you got close to him and sat down but he just pretended like you weren't there. it felt so weird to be so distant with the person you love the most and it deeply hurt but nothing scarred like what he said.

"can't you get a hint? i don't wanna be near you right now. god i don't know why i broke up with them, they're not awfully clingy like you are." he muttered as he tried to walk away but i guess it hit him what he said and turned around to look at me. i couldn't even cry, i was just going through my mind trying to handle everything he said at once and figuring out that i should probably leave. "baby no i'm sorry, please at least stay here so you don't have to walk in the middle of the night."

"there's no way i'm staying close to you today." even if it hurt him, nothing was gonna be as bad as what he said to me and he would have to deal with that. "please let me go felix."

"felix, i'll walk them home and we'll talk when i get back." chan said and i could see the hesitation on felix's eyes but he eventually did let go of my wrist and i could finally leave. i couldn't help the tears that were flowing as i got out of the building and tried not to make a fool of myself in front of chan but he was like an older brother to me so as soon as he offered me a hug, i gave in and let go.

seungmin ✉

you weren't sure how to handle things with seungmin when he got in a bad mood. it's like you two didn't even know where to begin discussing the things that made you both upset and talking it out like normal people. it always led to a fight about who’s right and who's wrong and not about how you two exactly felt. it also led to him using some insecurities against you this time which you were not having it.

"listen (y/n) i don't know what you want from me but i'm done arguing." he said and you sighed, you were glad that everything was finally over between the two of you. "if i knew it was gonna lead to this, i would've stayed with them and never asked you out."

felt like a cold bucket of water dropped on you and it made you want to leave immediately but you froze. trying to process if it was real that your seungmin felt that way about you and your relationship, meaningless like it was nothing at all. it took all the strength left in you to get up and head to your shared bedroom to lock the door and not say anything else. as soon as realization hit him and what he said, he was on the other side knocking.

"i'm sorry i don't know what came over me. i promise i'll be better, please let me see you? i can't stand the fact that you're alone and suffering right now." he said but the sobs were uncontrollable and choking up on tears was so disheartening. "baby please, i won't leave this side until we talk it out. (y/n) i love you..."

"i love you too but please leave me alone for now will you?" you said even if all you wanted was a hug right now, you weren't sure you wanted one from someone who felt that way towards you. you could hear the footsteps getting further and further as you held onto your knees tight and buried your head, trying to make the tears stop.

jeongin ✉

it felt so weird to argue with jeongin. it was one of his first relationships and he still didn't know how to express himself without hurting you and sometimes he didn't know how to handle the tears that came after the hurtful words. he felt like crying himself most of the time he saw you cry and it wasn't easy to calm each other down if both of you were in a bad state emotionally. this time he did let the anger get the best of him and he dived right into the meaningless words that you would hear in a fight, well they were meaningless to him but to you? not so much.

"jesus fucking christ (y/n). i don't know what you want from me anymore, you're making such a fuss and i know they would never do this shit. i don't know why i'm with you." it was too late to regret anything as he looked at you, with shock in his eyes that he even muttered that.

"if you feel that way then i should get going." you said as you bit your lip and tried to hold back from the break down that you were about to have. "i don't know what i expected but for you to talk to me that way? i didn't see it coming."

"(y/n) love, i'm so fucking sorry. please don't leave me." he said and yes the tears were flowing from his eyes and yes you did feel horrible about it seeing him like this. but it was his fault and to grow from it he would have to deal with hurting you as you walked in the direction of the front door and he chased after you. "please, i'll do anything but please don't go."

"if you wanna do something then understand i need some time away from you right now. goodbye jeongin, we'll talk later." you said and closed the door before he could follow you. a sigh and a tear came out of your body as you looked up and hoped that you two could mend things but it was all up to you at this point. and it hurt to know that he felt in a way you would've never even dream of feeling.

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz reactions #skz reaction #stray kids x reader #skz drabbles #skz x reader #skz angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids angst #jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader

3K notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 3 months

Note

rafe being president of a frat and saying readers brother can only get in if she sucks him off

thinking about this concept with this rafe? yes.

‧₊˚👛✩ ₊˚🎀⊹♡

you never knew floorboards could be this sticky, and that people could smell so strongly of beer. you didn’t particularly love frat parties, but you’d been looking for an excuse to get drunk after the week you’d had, and wear that new little skirt you knew you looked good in. as your group gets let in to the building, you’re stopped by the shoulder — and you huff as you watch the rest of the girls wander off without noticing your absence. you put that down to doing too many shots at the pre-game.

“and what do we have here?” you’re greeted by rafe cameron, his hand still clasping your shoulder, can of beer in the other. “what, you gonna… walk right in n’ignore me? where’s my hug huh?”

“you don’t get one. you told my brother he can’t join your stupid frat.” you feel pathetic at the way you border on a pout, crossing your arms over your chest what you hoped to be intimidatingly — which only make you come across as a sulky brat.

rafe tongues his cheek with a smug chuckle, looking away and nodding as a greeting at a familiar face passing by before turning his attention back to you. “who cares, a’ight? ‘kids a loser. i’m actually doing the guy a favour, he wouldn’t fit in.” he resists an eyeroll, bringing the can to his lips and taking a sip.

“you’re purposely excluding him! and — and you didn’t even give him a chance to prove himself.” you furrow your brows making his jaw tick, looking around incase you made a scene. he leans in, voice a little quieter.

“cry me a river. alright? that’s just how this shit goes. now is there anything else you wanna say?” he raises his eyebrows and you back down, deciding it’s not worth it. you were here to get drunk after all, and getting kicked out before you’ve even really entered would spoil that plan completely. you blink up at him silently and he nods. “no? alright then.” he steps back, gesturing with his head for you to go inside. “run along, sweetheart.”

but that’s not the last you see of rafe that night — if you’re not ignoring his usual stares, or glares if you’re talking to another guy — you’re dodging his attempts to try and get you to come over, where you know he’ll end up being all touchy and condescending (and you’ll have to totally deny that it’s turning you on.) regardless of your attempts to evade, he catches you anyway at the drink table, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“you know, i— i have been thinking about what you said.” he gets straight to the point, and your interest is piqued.

“about my brother?” you spin to face him eagerly, so he all but has you backed up against the drinks table, wet smirk on his face from the lip of his beer bottle.

“mm.” he hums, a faux pensive frown finding his face as he nods as if deep in thought, only further drawing you in. “i uh, i think there’s something we might be able to do. you know, a little agreement.” a salacious smile spreading on his face.

your brows knit, lashes scraping them as you look directly up at him — and it only made him wanna chuckle, because you just looked so doe eyed and pleading. he did believe you’d do just about anything.

“like what, rafe?” you sound unsure, but you could probably guess the direction things were headed. he leans in, his mouth hovering over your ear so that he could speak up and be heard clearly.

“i’m saying i…i would be willing to take a bribe. some oral persuasion goes a long way with me.”

you surprise yourself when you end up on your knees in a locked guest bedroom, the taller boy happy as ever as he fists his cock infront of you. even he was surprised this had worked, so he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to draw the whole thing out.

“c’mon rafe, just lemme—”

“nah, nah…” he licks his lips, batting away the hand that reaches for him. he pauses for a moment, looking you over with drooped eyes and parted lips. “i really, really think it’s in your best interest to start beggin’… let’s hear it.” he shrugs, stopping everything to stare you down. you huff, hot in the face and humiliated already.

“please, rafe. let me suck you off.” you mewl, quietly because you can’t bring yourself to speak any louder. he laughs boyishly, tongue poking out as he does so.

“yeah uh, i meant beg for me to let your brother into the frat— you really want this dick in your mouth though don’t you baby? huh?” he teases with a grin and you go all dumb and glassy eyed, barely able to think straight. he clears his throat and sits up straighter at your reaction. “alright, it’s okay— don’t go getting all… upset.” he dismisses, a clammy hand sliding round the back of your neck to bring you closer. “c’mon, get to work. you know what to do.”

you give him your all, because if you were going to stoop this low all for your brother, you might aswell make it worth something. you hollow your cheeks, you drool, you play with his balls, you take him down as far as you can go — all things you knew would get you in his good books. it seems to be working, praises starting to tumble past his lips when you gag on him instead of teasing you.

“shit, good fuckin’ girl. keep takin’ it.” rings through your ears as you switch to jerking him once more, tongue swirling at his tip. this seems to be what sends him over the edge, and just to ensure your place — you swallow.

he’s surprisingly soft with you as you both recover, the cameron boy wiping your mouth on the back of his hand and watching you catch his breath through his own wrecked panting. bless your heart, you’re staring at him with these big hopeful eyes, rimmed by watery mascara and pink scleras, batting gloopy lashes at him like he had all the power in the world. a dangerous thing for a man’s ego.

rafe tucks himself back into his pants, letting out a relieved exhale before cupping your face— leaning in and pressing a kiss to the centre of your forehead. he pulls back, gazing at you with an unreadable expression for a moment before patting your cheek. “i’ll think about it.” he presses his lips in a tight, malicious smile before he stands, walking to the door.

you stare, stomach twisting at the lack of promise despite your efforts and you turn your head from your knelt position, jaw agape. “c’mon, up you get. wouldn’t want anyone seein’ you like this, right?”

‧₊˚👛✩ ₊˚🎀⊹♡

#anon #rafe cameron prompt

329 notes · View notes

agendabymooner · 6 months

Text

SOMETHING SCANDALOUS !!! DANIEL R. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she was so drawn on him that she couldn't find herself to care where she was. (pt. 3-ish of something watchful and something jealous).

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), based on a request from my ask, use of explicit language, pwp, what is beta reading, unprotected sex (a no no), semi-public sex + mirror sex hehe, oral sex (m receiving) + deepthroat, p in v, exhibitionism + mentions of voyeurism (!!!!), just straight up nasty tbh, degrading ('filthy baby'), mentions lando watching (something jealous), lewis + max + lando + daniel scene at the end.

song rec: agora hills by doja cat (i've been playing this song endlessly now)

note: i know i'm not taking any requests atm but god did i want some exhibitionist!danny. anon, forgive me if this is way below what you've expected but i've done my best xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

she hadn’t expected herself to act like this. in a club restroom, of all places.

but she was so drawn and drunk on him that she couldn’t find herself to give a fuck. her mouth humming around his thick cock as daniel exhaled sharply and muttered beneath his breath.

“fuck, such a good fuckin’ doll f’me,” he swore, his half-lidded eyes peering down at her with nothing but lust. “suckin’ me off in a club bathroom— y’really wanna get caught, huh?”

her eyes nearly shed tears as she inhaled the last of the oxygen she could consume, the tip of his cock resting at the back of her throat as her tongue swirled on the underside of his cock.

the echoes of daniel’s groaning remained inside the bathroom. the couple were thankful for the privacy of this place— as if this public place was meant to be shagged on by two desperate people.

“you should see yourself, princess,” daniel moaned as she began bobbing her head, “sucking me off in a bathroom where some drivers can walk into— like you want them to see you.”

her legs instinctively shut and rubbed against each other, desperately finding a way to scratch the itch in between her legs as she moaned. the vibration of her mouth made him groan deeply.

“yeah? you really want that huh? filthy baby,” daniel taunted her. “wan’ them to see you? wanna remind them that you’re my filthy girl?” he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her away from his cock, making her cry quietly at the sharp pain of her roots and the lack of cock on her mouth.

her skin met the cold marble tiles of the sink, feeling his hands bruising her hips as he slid into her. she let out a shrill cry, his cock bottoming out inside her cunt.

“god, baby you’re so fuckin’ divine,” daniel thrusted his cock inside her, his length reaching and hitting her sensitive spot repeatedly as she cried in pleasure. “yeah- let it all out. you like this, hm? you like this cock inside of your cunt?”

“fuck- daniel, yes!” she exclaimed, holding onto her dear life as he continued to fuck her from behind.

the australian took a hold of both her arms and held them behind her, watching her tits bounce in front of him with grace and filth that he hadn’t expected to act on.

his hand propped her chin up and tapped on it lightly, “look at you,” he demanded quietly, “open your eyes pretty girl.”

as if she was in a drunken haze, her lust blown eyes opened and trailed down from her bouncing tits to his cock— her mouth drooling at the sight of it sliding out of her.

“you like that?” daniel chuckled behind her, nipping at her ear as she mewled. “oh you do. you definitely love that, sweetheart— you are such a filthy thing.”

“and i thought fuckin’ you in front of lando would cut it,” he cooed mockingly, his pace increasing as she babbled about wanting to cum. “turns out you want more to see you, huh?”

“‘m sure they wouldn’t oppose to that,” daniel continued, “could see all of ‘em eye-fucking you when you wear those fuckin’ dresses to the paddock. pierre hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut about you, either— tellin’ me that you’re hot as fuck. i don’t blame him.”

“and max?” daniel chuckled darkly, “he wants to fuck you too, baby— can you just imagine how it’s gon’ be if he finds out that he can’t have everything he wants just b’cause he’s the champion? i pity the poor man.”

“maybe lando should warn ‘em,” his cock continued to spear her insides as she screamed silently, her hand holding on to his arm behind her as her cunt throbbed. her walls called for orgasm— yet he continued fucking her like she wasn’t eager to reach her high. “tell ‘em that i’m not the type to share— but to brag, no?”

“or should we just let them find you here?” he laughed quietly, his mockery turning into a sign of pleasure as he said, “god fuck— baby, cum f’me, yeah? i can feel- god, fuck.”

“fuck danny~” she let out a loud whine, her body reaching her high as she clenched around him. daniel let out a choked moan, his cock twitching and coating her walls white as he reached over to kiss her hard.

the restroom, once filled with filthy words and sounds of desperation and pleasure, fell silent as the music outside continued to be loud enough to cover their heavy breathing.

but it wasn’t loud enough to not create a scandalous story that was shared amongst the singles of the grid.

a week after, when daniel arrived before the driver’s pre-race conference began, max and lando gave him a knowing look. the australian returned their expressions with a puzzled one and lewis finally gave up his act and chuckled.

hearing lewis’ laugh, daniel gave them all an annoyed look, “okay, what the fuck is going on?”

max grinned mischievously and leaned against the wall with a smirk.

“i knew you were into pda,” lando joked, “but i didn’t think you’d go as far as that.” max chuckled at that.

daniel gave lando a glare. out of all of them, lando shouldn’t be joking about that; not when lando witnessed daniel fuck his girlfriend's brain out before. even the brit knew that but he couldn’t help but laugh.

“we’re just saying,” lewis cleared his throat, “if you wanted us to catch you two so bad, you could’ve just let us join.”

daniel scoffed haughtily, “you fuckin’ wish.”

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 smau #💌 re:moony’s planner #formula one smut #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula one fic #daniel ricciardo x you #danny ric x reader #daniel ricciardo #formula 1 smut #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 blurb #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut

572 notes · View notes

subskz · 1 year

Text

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 03

note: this is part 3 of a series (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, slight jealousy, brief mentions of alcohol, sickness, academic stress, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, chan has a bit of a breakdown, bathing scene, nsfw scenes

18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, praise, possessiveness, biting/marking, the slightest hint of exhibitionism, chan is very needy, stopping in the middle of a scene, oral (reader receiving), lots of begging, crying during and after sex, nursing, handjob, aftercare

word count: 22.6k

There were parts of Chan in everything you did now.

It took a while, but eventually, it dawned on you with a strange sort of delight that you’d subconsciously taken on his habit of pressing his lips together into a thin line—when giving a quick smile, when lost in thought, and, most importantly, when silently dissatisfied. For such a subtle movement, you found that, at times, it expressed your frustration better than voicing it ever could. A Chan-like quality, through and through.

Likewise, he’d adopted your habit of reaching up to brush the tip of your nose whenever you felt self-conscious. Of all the quirks he could’ve picked up on, naturally, it had to be one he could make ample use of. Now, any time your gaze lingered on him for a bit longer than necessary (which admittedly, was often) his thumb would swipe over the adorable apex of his nose, a shy half-smile following the action like clockwork. It took some audacity, really, for him to steal a mannerism of yours and make it infinitely more endearing.

Even less obvious details were fair game for the two of you to snatch up, from mirroring each other’s walks, to parroting certain words and phrases. You’d melded into one another, so much that, in some cases, you weren’t quite sure which traits he’d gotten from you, and which traits you’d gotten from him.

You wondered if the marks you’d left on each other were what had landed you in the situation you found yourself in now.

“Betrayal! That’s what this is! A Sanrio pencil stabbed straight through my giant, loving heart!”

It had been a good five minutes of this. Changbin was back from summer break—skin tanned, hair fluffy, muscles somehow more defined than ever—and with the way his voice echoed shamelessly throughout the cafe, he was making sure everyone knew it. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to greet him properly before the one-man show (which you’d prepared for, but clearly not enough) began; starring none other than Seo Changbin himself, of course.

“Please calm down before you get us kicked out.”

“Calm down, she says!” he cried. “You’re a real scary person, y’know that? Hiding this from me, your good friend, Changbin—your best friend, Changbin—all this time!”

You felt a tinge of guilt for what wasn’t the first time. Despite the melodrama of it all, you knew that he had a point. There was no reason for you to have kept something like this from him for so long, especially when it involved not only one, but two of his closest friends.

“I’m sorry, Bin,” you sighed. “I really did wanna tell you. I was just worried it’d make everything so awkward.”

“Well, of course it’s awkward,” he agreed. “But I still want to know! At least that way, we can feel awkward together!”

Something about his reasoning made you soften. It was just like him, to be more concerned that he’d missed out on the chance of being a supportive friend rather than the potential mess that could stem from your involvement with Chan. You would probably do well to have a little more faith in people—a message the universe seemed to have been hammering into your brain a great deal lately.

“Maybe I would’ve told you if you’d talked to me more than once over your entire vacation,” you teased.

Changbin’s mouth fell open in protest, suddenly finding himself playing defense. “Twice!” he corrected indignantly. “And don't try to spin this on me! What about when you called me, huh? That was the perfect opportunity!”

“The perfect opportunity?” you echoed in disbelief. “In that case, I’ll be sure to follow up your birthday wishes next year with news that I’m dating your best friend.”

“Scary, scary person,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m almost afraid to ask for a hug—you’re not gonna put a knife in my back are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s in the air back home that makes you act like this?”

Still, you felt nothing but fondness as you leaned fully into him, letting it sink in for the first time just how happy you were to see him again. With the way his big arms squeezed around you, you knew he wasn’t truly upset either—even if, quite frankly, he had a right to be.

“I missed you, though,” you patted his back. “You and all your drama.”

“Well, I missed you too,” he huffed. Just when you thought he might be ready to drop the theatrics and move on, he pulled away from the hug, a horrified look forming on his face.

“Oh my God…have I been third wheeling this entire time?”

“Get in line, Seo Changbin.”

His nagging and whining eventually died down, morphing into more playful jabs as the two of you ordered your drinks and found a table to sit at. Exactly as you’d predicted, once he’d recovered from the initial shock, he was all proud grins and smug righteousness, preaching on and on about how he’d told you so from day one and how you should never doubt him or his genius intuition ever again.

“I was mostly joking when I said all that stuff about you falling in love with him, y’know,” he clicked his tongue. “Didn’t think you’d actually go and do it.”

“I’m not in love with him,” you tried to retort, but much to your dismay, your voice cracked right as you uttered the dreaded word.

“No way,” Changbin broke out into cackles of pure glee. “Don’t tell me you went and had a secret wedding without me, too?”

You shoved your straw into your iced coffee with a bit too much force, face heating up. “The more you laugh, the more you sound like someone who isn’t getting his belated birthday present.”

At that, he clamped his jaws shut, giggles halting with a speed that was almost impressive. “Sorry, sorry,” he gave you a sheepish grin. “Behaving, now.”

“How’d you find out, anyway? Did Chan tell you?”

“Nah. Though, I should’ve guessed just from the way he gets whenever you’re brought up. All shy and smiley, it’s honestly kinda nauseating.”

He scrunched his nose up in distaste, but the words had no real edge to them. In fact, there was nothing but affection there. It made your heart skip a beat, embarrassingly enough, to know that just the mention of you was all it took to have that kind of effect on Chan. Every time you thought you couldn’t possibly be more taken by him, he proved you wrong.

“If not Chan, then who?” you hesitated before asking. “Minho?”

“Hey,” the whine was back in his voice. “Why’s it so hard for you to believe I figured it out myself?”

You said nothing, smiling around your straw and sipping contently away at your coffee.

“Yes, it was Minho,” he grumbled.

Though you’d been expecting it, the confirmation still made your skin crawl, overtaking Chan’s warmth with a cold discomfort. You hadn’t seen or heard from Minho since your encounter in the convenience store a few weeks ago, and each time you thought back to him, the pit of unease in your stomach grew stronger. You wondered just how much he’d told Changbin. Judging by his behavior that day, he seemed to be aware of everything—whether he was the type to mince his words, or to expose it all without a care in the world, you weren’t quite sure. Even if you’d spent more time around the guy before he’d decided to switch up on you, you got the feeling that you still wouldn’t have any clearer insight into how his mind worked.

“Speaking of Minho,” you began slowly. “Has he…said anything lately?”

Changbin snorted. “He’s said a lot of things.”

“Sorry. I mean, like, about me.”

“I don’t think so,” he squinted, eyeing you up and down. “Why? Are you planning on picking off my friends one by one?”

It was lighthearted, just a joke, but it nearly made you grimace. You’d be glad to never even cross paths with Minho again if it meant avoiding that harsh, accusatory glare that had yet to fade from your mind. Experiencing it once was more than enough.

“C’mon, Bin. It’s nothing like that.”

“Uh-huh, that’s what you said last time.”

You gave a half-hearted chuckle in response, only noticing a moment too late how unconvincing it’d come out. It caught his attention, and he glanced up from his drink to give you a curious look.

“Everything alright?”

You were reluctant to confide in Changbin about the matter, both to avoid burdening him with something so silly, and because of the very unavoidable fact that Minho was just as dear a friend to him as Chan. He’d only just found out about your relationship; immediately piling its potential problems on him was the last thing you wanted to do. At the same time, however, you figured it was better to ask someone who knew Minho well before you jumped to conclusions. Not to mention, Changbin might genuinely believe you were interested in rounding up all his friends if you didn’t clarify why you’d brought up the subject of Minho in the first place.

“I saw him a few weeks ago, and he was being kinda weird.”

“No issues there.”

“Not in his usual way, though—at least, I don’t think so?” you tried to be careful with your words, acutely aware of how sensitive you may come off if you chose the wrong ones. “I just got the feeling that he doesn’t really like me all that much. So, I was wondering if he’s brought it up with you.”

Changbin frowned, taking a moment to mull over what you’d said.

“You think Minho doesn’t like you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “What’d he say to you?”

“Just some weird things about me and Chan,” you shrugged. “It almost felt like he was trying to intimidate me, or something. Like, he thinks I have bad intentions.”

A troubled look crossed his face—brief, but just long enough to foster your unease. He went quiet for a few moments, nibbling thoughtfully on his bottom lip, then, at last, gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Nah, that can’t be it.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“Minho knows you’re not like that,” he said simply. “And he wouldn’t just hate you for no reason, either. Definitely not it.”

You made a small noise of acknowledgement, pretending to understand what he meant, but Changbin still seemed to sense that he hadn’t gotten through to you.

“You’ve seen the way he acts around us, right? He’s probably just messing with you now that he feels more comfortable,” his voice mellowed. “He might seem difficult, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s a pretty great guy, actually. Soft at heart.”

“I believe you,” you murmured. You didn’t doubt for a second that he was a good friend to Changbin and Chan; you’d witnessed it firsthand in the time you’d spent around them. The problem was, you seemed to have done something to land yourself as the target of his inexplicable wrath, and you weren’t sure how to get yourself out of the line of aim before his eyes pierced an arrow straight through you.

“Maybe you’re right. I must’ve just misunderstood him.”

“He’s easy to misunderstand,” Changbin reassured you. An unpleasant thought appeared to cross his mind, twisting the small smile tugging at his lips right back into a frown. “Just…don’t tell him I said any of that. He didn’t put you up to this, did he?”

“Of course not,” you grinned. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Though you weren’t entirely sold on Changbin’s reasoning, it was at least worth a shot to reconcile with Minho before completely giving up on a positive relationship with him. It wasn’t even so much that you were hurt by his unexpected hostility, you just wanted to know what had caused it. You wanted to fix it.

In fact, you were determined to fix it. For both your sakes, and—most importantly—for Chan’s, you were going to make it right.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

College parties, as it turned out, were still very plainly, very aggressively, not your scene. Even with Chan and Changbin there, even with some of the most talented students on campus putting on performances that were, unsurprisingly, really, really good, even with the three-month long promise of getting to see 3RACHA live finally coming to fruition, you were having a hard time enjoying yourself.

You didn’t think it was possible to be experiencing this many different emotions at once. Every one of your senses was suffocated with something. The stinging smell of alcohol, the uncomfortable sheen of sweat on your skin, the perpetual ringing in your ears, the swarming mass of people, and the residual taste of artificial strawberry—the only refreshment you’d managed to take a few sips of before being swept away into the crowd over an hour ago. You were overwhelmed, you were exhilarated, you were anxious, you were impatient. You appeared completely calm amidst the chaos ensuing all around you, yet somehow, were more of a mess internally than even the most intoxicated of attendees.

You’d spent a majority of your time scattered, tossed amongst your friends at random intervals throughout the night. Fifteen minutes with Changbin before he and Jisung had retreated to the bathroom to practice their lyrics, twenty minutes with Iseul before she and her boyfriend had gotten into a heated argument about him not matching the energy of her dancing (something you were sure to get earful of later), thirty minutes with various friends from class before realizing in dismay that they consisted almost exclusively of touchy and crybaby drunks, and a mere five minutes with Chan.

Shortly after the party had begun, you’d arrived to find him already looking cheerfully exhausted. He’d been there for hours already, having offered to help the committee with all the setup and decorations for the event. Even once the festivities were in full swing, he was still dashing around the venue left and right, assisting with soundchecks and the transfer of equipment with hardly any time to prepare for his own performance, let alone to socialize. It warmed your heart as much as it tugged at it. Even on a night where he should be his own top priority, he was still bending over backwards to help everyone else but himself.

It lasted until he was all but forced to stop, dragged away by Changbin and Jisung to set up for 3RACHA’s showcase. The moment you’d been anticipating all night—all summer, really—the sole reason you were even putting up with an environment so out of your wheelhouse to begin with, came at last. The three men shuffled on to the makeshift stage with an awkward sort of swagger that you only ever saw in them when they were together. It was like each one of them needed the other two with him to lock properly into place, to align their energies and bring out the best in each other like a finely-tuned machine. In a way, that in itself was a testament to the song they’d be performing.

The familiar sirens you’d heard countless times before, pumping through your phone speakers in a personal concert, now blared through the hall for everyone to hear. Chan’s eyes fell from the screen of his laptop where he’d been getting things situated, landing directly on you without even having to search the crowd. He gave you a grin, dimples flashing, and that was the last you saw of it for the next three minutes and thirty seconds.

You’d already had an idea of what Jisung was capable of based on the handful of 3RACHA songs you’d heard, but to see it unfold in person was something entirely different. The goofy, scatterbrained junior that always looked a bit on-edge every time you spotted him, now rapping at the speed of light with each word flowing like torrents in a stream. Something about the way he read the lyrics directly off his phone, even for a performance like this, made it all the more mesmerizing to watch. He was the kind of person you could tell was a hidden genius.

Changbin became every bit as fierce and intimidating as you’d initially believed him to be the first day you’d met. Voice raspy and eyes dark, looking straight into the crowd almost like he was challenging them with each effortless line he spit out. It served as a reminder that all his drama and flair wasn't just something you could tease him for; it was something he could own the stage with, as well. His pride radiated off of him in waves; not only in himself, but in them as a unit, and every ounce of it was justified in your eyes.

Undoubtedly the most drastic transformation, however, was Chan. From the moment Zone began, the boy you’d come to know seemed to go dormant for a while, replaced with something you’d never quite seen in him before—something approaching confidence. You thought back to that day in the library, where you’d tried to imagine in amusement how someone like him, who could hardly look you in the eye while playing snippets of his Placebo instrumental, could be the one behind such powerful lines. You didn’t have to imagine it now. He had the least parts out of the trio—you were certain he’d chosen Zone as a way to give Jisung and Changbin more time to shine—but he made just as great of an impact. You could feel the effects of it, on you and everyone else around you. There was no question about it; he belonged there.

By the time the performance was over, you could add a few new emotions to the ones swirling inside you: happiness, pride, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You found Changbin amidst the sea of people first, weaving and dodging through the crowd until you reached him, or, rather, crashed directly into him. His face broke out into a wide smile as soon as he realized it was you, barely getting the chance to say anything before you pulled him into a hug.

“So?” you could hear the giddiness in his voice as he gave you a tight squeeze.

“You killed it, Bin! That’s gotta be the best you've ever sounded,” you hoped he could hear your praises over the pandemonium. “You gonna remember me when you’re famous?”

He pulled away with a laugh, lifting his chin in—mostly—feigned bravado. “I’ll consider it,” his eyes sparkled. “Did you notice the new move I did?”

“Obviously,” you imitated his stylish salute with two fingers, and his smile grew even wider. “And what’s with that sound you made at the start of your verse?”

“It’s my new signature!” he declared.

“So cool! You’re so cool, Seo Changbin!” You threw a hand over your heart with a giggle, and he bumped his shoulder against yours, suddenly embarrassed.

If he said something in response, you didn’t quite catch it, effectively losing all focus the instant your eyes caught sight of a group of people gathered nearby. Chan was at its center, grinning from ear to ear as he tried to keep up with everyone’s chattering all at once. A visual of him you’d pictured so many times before, now right before your eyes—a charming, social butterfly who made befriending others look as simple as breathing. It truly sank in at that moment, that the boy who’d come to mean so much to you in so little time, had a whole other side to his world that you didn’t even know of. The view of his thousand-watt smile wasn’t for your eyes alone, the pieces of himself that he put into his music weren’t solely for your ears.

It made your heart sing; he should be adored. But at the same time, that sensation from earlier made its presence known once again. The girl next to him, the head organizer for the event, if you remembered correctly, reached out to touch his arm as she laughed. Her hand lingered for a moment too long, a look you knew all too well swimming in her eyes.

Oh. Suddenly, the mystery feeling wasn’t so much of a mystery anymore.

Something ignited deep within you, completely different from the familiar heat Chan set off in your skin. It was immediately followed by a wave of embarrassment. You weren’t the type to bristle over something so small—at least, you’d never thought you were. You wanted to blame it on something; the fact that you hadn’t seen Chan for most of the night, the fact that it felt a bit too reminiscent of what he used to do whenever you’d dared to take your attention off of him for even a moment. But Chan would never even think to pull anything like that, it went against his nature. His nature just so happened to entail being adored wherever he went.

You knew it was nothing more than that same selfishness that had reared its head the night you’d first slept together. Not quite insecurity, and not quite jealousy. It was rooted in something much simpler: a matter of what felt right, and what didn’t. You’d wanted to be done with the troublesome feeling from the moment you’d first encountered it—to nip it in the bud before it sprouted into something uglier—but just like everything about your relationship with Chan, it was out of your hands. It was inevitable. With the wholeness that came with his presence, an emptiness was left in his absence.

“Oh my God,” Changbin’s exasperated voice cut through the music, and, in turn, the thoughts swarming your head. “Stare any harder and he might just burst into flames.”

You blinked, embarrassment increasing tenfold. “Sorry, Binnie,” you muttered. “What were you saying?”

He gave you a knowing nudge. “Just go talk to him so I don’t have to look at your lovesick face anymore.”

“Not lovesick,” you protested, but the way your eyes darted right back to Chan did nothing to help your case. You found him staring at you this time, his overwhelmed beam shifting into something softer, sweeter—a look of relief. He dismissed himself from the group just as your feet were preparing, almost reflexively, to pull you in his direction. You turned to give Changbin another apologetic glance, only for him to roll his eyes and gesture for you to leave.

“I need to find Jisung, anyway,” he told you. “Talking to more than one stranger at a time probably has him looking for an escape route.”

Promising to meet up with him again later, you parted ways, a strange sense of calm washing over you as you came face to face with Chan at last. The pungent smell in the air was replaced with his fresh citrus, the clamoring sounds around you suddenly much quieter in your ears, as if waiting with bated breath to hear what he had to say.

“Hey, you,” he grinned.

“Hi, Channie,” you held out your hands, skin tingling when he rested his palms against yours. Slightly clammy from the adrenaline rush of the performance, but soft to the touch. Warm as ever.

“So, were you ever planning on telling me that you’re a shapeshifter?”

“A shapeshifter?” he giggled, more melodic than any of the music you’d heard that night.

“Those moves? The growling?” you marveled. “Even the way you carried yourself; you really know how to put on a show.”

Chan’s fingers—topped off with black nail polish, you noticed for the first time—twitched in your hands, resisting the urge to reach up and adjust his cap, tug at his ear, swipe over his nose, do something to try and alleviate his embarrassment.

“Did you like it? Or was it too much? I know this one’s your favorite, so…”

…I hope I didn’t mess it up. You could hear the words on the tip of his tongue without him even finishing. They were clear in every nervous flicker in his expression, every awkward shift in his feet.

“Are you kidding?” you rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand. “You were made for this.”

The flashing lights around you illuminated his face just in time for you to see his eyes widen. It almost made you sad—the genuine shock etched into his features.

“Ah…” he ducked his head, speechless. Suddenly, you completely understood why he’d been reluctant to ask you to attend the showcase. You should’ve known by now; Chan didn’t have to play coy to endear you, he accomplished that just fine by simply being himself.

“You really think so?” He kept his stare glued to the floor.

“Of course. Everyone else can see it, too,” you added. “I’m really proud of you, Channie.”

His cap hid his expression from your view, but you were certain that his brilliant smile was there—the one you loved so much, the one so wide that it couldn’t be contained, swelling his cheeks and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Thank you,” it was meek, barely audible above the roar of the crowd. “That means a lot.”

You wanted to dip your head under the brim of his hat and meet his gaze, to let him know just how much you meant it. You wanted to kiss him, unconcerned with the people around you who might see—in fact, it only strengthened the desire, the chance to witness his cute, flustered reaction to a public display like that.

Your hesitation lasted a split second too long, however, as you spotted a fresh group of people approaching the two of you; some faces recognizable, some entirely new. You kept your smile as they made their way over with shouts and cheers, but your hand gripped Chan’s just a bit tighter.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Tonight was full of firsts for you, it seemed.

Attending a university party without leaving within the first hour, mingling with more people than you’d ever thought existed on campus, and now, as you currently were, lacking so much in self-control that you were pressed up against Chan in the venue bathroom.

You weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up there, the only thing you were sure of was the slew of emotions leading into it. Chan could tell that you were antsy, and, maybe, he was feeling antsy too. The number of times you’d been separated throughout the night only to drift right back to each other was too many to count. It got to the point where the final time it happened, you’d opted for linking arms to avoid getting lost again.

You wanted to go home—you’d been more than ready to from the moment 3RACHA had finished performing—and you would’ve gladly left Chan to enjoy the rest of the event with his endless rotation of friends if it weren’t for the fact that every time you were apart for too long, he’d go looking for you. At first, you’d tried to tell him not to worry himself over whether or not you were having fun, but eventually, you realized with a flutter in your chest that it wasn’t just his usual attentiveness at play; he wanted you next to him.

When he’d asked if you wanted to retreat somewhere quieter for a bit, it had been innocent enough. You didn’t think he’d expected things to head in this direction—you certainly hadn’t. With your vigilance and his shyness, neither of you were exactly the type.

“This okay?”

“Mhm,” he breathed against your lips. The faint pounding of the bass outside could still be heard through the bathroom door, but you were much more fixated on Chan’s racing heartbeat.

“You look—mmph—so pretty tonight,” he slurred. “Been wanting to kiss you.”

His voice still had the faintest rasp to it after the strain of performing, exciting you more than it probably should’ve. “You’re so sweet,” you cooed, pressing a peck to the corner of his mouth. “How do you think I felt seeing you up on that stage?”

He made a soft noise, unable to protest when you took his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking delicately and making him melt into you. His mouth fell open for you to devour freely. His hands, which had been hovering uncertainly over your hips, rested on them at last. From the way his fingers constricted around your clothes, you knew he was itching to bring you closer; he always was.

“You don’t believe me?” You pulled back just slightly, tugging at his plush skin between your teeth as you did. He tasted sweet, even sweeter than usual. The same artificial strawberry you’d tried earlier in the night. Gently, you used your hold on his cheeks to turn his head in the direction of the mirror.

Chan’s eyes fell instantly, avoiding his reflection like second nature.

“Look at yourself, Channie,” you encouraged. “I want you to see what I see.”

A quiet whine built in his throat, but he complied nonetheless, meeting his own, timid gaze in the mirror. You let your hands slip from his cheeks to give him a clear view of his face, shifting your position so that you stood behind him, admiring the view together.

“Pretty boy,” you drawled, running your hands along his shoulders. “For someone who’s so good at reading people, you’re clueless about how bad they really want you.”

He tensed up, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “What?”

“You didn’t notice?” You tilted your head. “That's okay. It’s cute, actually.”

Your lips found his neck, breath fanning over his warm skin in a way that made goosebumps rise to the surface. Keeping your eyes locked on his reflection, you pressed a trail of kisses down his throat, doing little to hide how high your emotions were running.

“D-did something bother you?” he stuttered out, and if you hadn’t known him any better, you might’ve thought he was trying to tease you. Hearing him say it out loud nearly made you cringe at yourself. It was so trivial, so ridiculous. You didn’t want him to see that side of you—a side you’d hardly even known you had before tonight. Still, the burning sensation had grown too strong for you to ignore anymore, with each suggestive touch or longing glance thrown Chan's way serving as fuel to the fire.

“Why would I be bothered?” you said at last. “They don’t get to see you like this.” His breath hitched as you grazed your teeth along his skin. “Or hear you like this. Do they?”

“N-no,” he agreed. “Just you.”

Just you. You wondered if he’d said it knowing full well the kind of effect it would have on you.

“Do you like all the attention?”

He pressed his lips together, averting his eyes from the mirror again. It was subtle, but you could’ve sworn his hips jutted forward just a bit.

“I like your attention,” he said softly.

Another perfect answer from a perfect boy. Your hands fell from his shoulders, sliding down his body to give his waist a squeeze through the thin material of his shirt. “You deserve it,” you licked a stripe up his neck. “All of it. Who wouldn’t go crazy over you when you look like this?”

“I…” He bit his lip, no doubt to hold back what he really wanted to say. “Please, ‘m getting shy.”

You were almost tempted to grab hold of his chin and tilt his head up, giving him no choice other than to take in the breathtaking sight of himself. But judging by his bright red ears and restless squirming under your palms, he was flustered enough already—so much that you worried it may actually mortify him to face his appearance on top of your praises reverberating in his mind. Instead, you pressed more wet kisses to his neck, hands roaming further down his body and feeling up the expanse of his stomach, right above the waistband of his pants. He whimpered, pushing his hips forward much more noticeably this time.

“It’ll be bad if we get caught,” you hummed. “Keep quiet, Channie.”

Chan sucked in a sharp breath as you ran your tongue along his ear. You took his hoop piercing between your teeth, tugging at it in a gentle, but deliberate taunt.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “You know I can't.”

You smiled deviously around the silver. “I know.”

The sound of your voice was nothing short of intoxicating, smooth and sultry and pooling heat in his abdomen at an alarmingly quick rate. Your fingers traced over the buttons of his jeans, playing with them in a tortuous dance, but not quite popping them open. The material was already starting to feel tight around him, and when you fully cupped the area without warning, his mouth fell open to spill out a shaky moan.

Your heart jumped; he was so sensitive, reduced to the flushed, noisy mess you saw before you with just a few touches and kisses. You thought back to what he’d said that night—about how it’d been a while—a small part of you wondering if that was the real reason, or if he was just always this reactive. It thrilled you like nothing else, the prospect of him being so vocal, so vulnerable to every bit of stimulation no matter how many times he’d felt it before.

“Maybe that’s what you want? For everyone to hear all these pretty sounds you make for me.”

You dragged your tongue up from his lobe, swirling it around the shell of his ear and practically tasting the heat radiating off the reddened skin. Frantically, Chan tried to mask another moan, hands gripping the sink for support.

“No—ah—just you. Only for you.”

“Only me?” You gave him a squeeze, curling your fingers around his growing bulge and making him shudder against you. “Should I make sure they know that?”

He peeked up at last from under the brim of his cap, eyes already so foggy, lips already puffed. Your mouth traveled down from his ear, pressing a kiss right to the junction of his shoulder and neck. A light hiccup escaped him when your front teeth tickled the flesh, threatening to bite down in full.

“Can I?” you checked.

Chan leaned in further so that nearly all his weight was resting against the sink, knees weakening at the mere thought of what you were going to do. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Please.”

“It’ll show,” you warned, basking in the feel of his pulse beneath your lips.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want it to.”

Any composure you had left was no match for the desperation in his voice. He always knew exactly what to say—or, rather, anything he said was exactly what you wanted to hear, solely because it came from him. Without wasting another moment, you sank your teeth into his neck, wrapping your lips around the patch of skin to create a hot, delicious suction that nearly made Chan fold in half.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp cry escaping him despite his best efforts. You tightened your grasp on him in an attempt to keep him steady, but the added pressure to his length only seemed to make things worse. He whimpered something incoherent, hips rolling forward to grind into your palm—uncharacteristically shameless of him.

You sucked to your heart’s content, nibbling and running your tongue along the sensitive area until you were certain a mark would be left behind for days to come. When you finally released his flesh from between your teeth, Chan was all but panting, face scrunched up with pleasure and bulge twitching in your hand. You gave the mark a delicate lick, soothing the flared skin while he caught his breath.

“Mine.”

It sent a shiver down his spine. Just as you were preparing to sully a new spot on his neck, a sudden knock on the bathroom door made you both freeze in place. His body stiffened against yours, head shooting up in a panic.

“Is anyone in here?” a girl’s voice came muffled through the distant rumble of the music.

The doorknob wobbled, and you steeled yourself to respond, knowing that Chan was in absolutely no state to.

“Yeah, just a minute!” you called, throwing out the first excuse you could conjure. “My friend’s feeling a bit sick.”

Carefully, to avoid drawing out any more questionable noises from the boy, you pulled your hand away from his crotch and peeled yourself off of him. He straightened up as best he could, blinking rapidly to clear the haze from his eyes. Guilt pricked at you, among other things, for allowing the situation to get to this point, but even as Chan urgently tried to adjust himself so the hardness in his pants would be less obvious, he didn’t look upset—not in the slightest. He gave you a sheepish half-smile when he met your gaze, eyes gleaming with pure, unfettered adoration.

You smoothed out your clothes, trying to ignore the very prominent ache between your legs.

“Sorry, Channie,” you murmured. “I guess I got carried away.”

His fingers brushed tentatively over the mark you’d left, cheeks matching the shade of his ears. “S’alright,” he licked his lips. “I like it.”

He had to stop saying that—for the sake of your sanity, if nothing else. You cleared your throat, reminding yourself that there was, in fact, some poor soul out there waiting impatiently for the restroom.

“And all the…possessive stuff I—” you paused. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“Too much?” he cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t notice?”

A repeat of your question from earlier. You went quiet for a moment, trying to decode the meaning behind it. Everything that had transpired throughout the course of the evening flooded your thoughts at once: the fixed stares from across the room, the hand-holding, the arm-linking, the search for you every time you strayed too far. Butterflies fluttered to life your stomach the instant you wrapped your head around it.

“Oh.”

His giggles mixed with yours, light and timid. How very like him, to admit so openly to the exact feeling you’d been hoping to hide. Hiding with him was a fruitless endeavor, anyway.

You rested your hand on his lower back, reaching for the handle with your other. “Look sick,” you whispered.

Chan leaned over slightly, masking both the lingering flush on his cheeks and the blossoming lovebite on his neck. On the opposite side of the door, you found none other than the event organizer standing there, watching the two of you inquisitively as you shuffled out of the bathroom. You gave her a polite dip of your head, and Chan offered a quick greeting as you ushered him along. You weren’t proud of it, but any self-consciousness you’d felt before was instantly overtaken by that selfish satisfaction.

As the two of you re-entered the fray, your hand slid down from Chan’s back, allowing him to walk normally again—or, as normally as he could when he was still very much trying to ebb the arousal you’d set off in him. He flexed his fingers as they brushed against yours, lacing them together before you could even think to pull away.

By some miracle, you managed to locate the other two thirds of 3RACHA with just a bit of sifting through the crowd. The relief was short-lived, however, alarm gripping you in its place when you noticed who was standing with them. Lee Minho.

It was no surprise that he was there, but you’d somehow managed to go the entire night without catching so much as a single glimpse of him. A part of you had been grateful for it, but the other part was also itching to see him. Ever since your conversation with Changbin, you’d become more and more ashamed about the way you’d acted with Minho in the convenience store. He’d rubbed you the wrong way, sure, but you were certain that your reaction had only made the situation worse. This was your chance to fix it, to dodge the arrow before he could finish drawing back his string.

“It’s completely different,” you heard him insist as you and Chan approached the group. He was engaged in what appeared to be a very serious debate with a very confused Jisung. “It’s like iced coffee versus hot coffee that’s been out for too long; they’re both cold, but one’s supposed to be, the other isn’t.”

Jisung blinked, lips parting and closing several times over the next few seconds. You’d never quite witnessed someone’s thought process unfolding in real time like that before. Even if you’d caught the full discussion between the two, the look on his face told you that you still wouldn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going on.

“I’ll be honest, man, you lost me three analogies ago.”

Minho clicked his tongue, looking ready to drop another equally convoluted explanation. Instead, he fell silent when he spotted you, the delighted smirk of someone who knew he was being difficult transforming into something much harsher, much less natural. It nearly made you wince. You’d never been particularly close with the guy, but you’d thought you were at least reaching a point where he’d grown comfortable enough to approach you with the same casualness he did with the rest of his friends. It bothered you more than you wanted to admit, that the first sign of friendship sprouting between you had been trampled on for reasons that you didn’t even know, nor comprehend.

His stare flickered between you and Chan, and you prayed desperately that the dim lighting of the hall would be enough for the fresh mark you’d left on Chan’s neck to escape Minho’s scrutiny. He narrowed his eyes, and your heartbeat picked up. So far, not off to a great start.

Still, you swallowed—your misgivings, and your pride—and flashed him a quick smile.

“Hi, Minho.”

No response, just a nod. Something told you that you were lucky to get even that out of him. He turned his head, planning to continue his debate with Jisung without addressing you any further, but the other boy had already been sucked into a high-energy conversation with Chan and Changbin about ways they could improve future performances.

“Can we talk?” you tried to keep your volume low, just enough for him to hear without catching the attention of the others.

He studied you with an impressive lack of interest, and for a moment, you thought he might really go the rest of the night without uttering a word around you.

“Why?”

“I just want to clear the air. I feel like we kinda had a misunderstanding the other day.”

“Maybe on your end,” he said curtly. “I understand what’s going on just fine.”

You took a breath, forcing yourself to remain open-minded. “Maybe,” you agreed. “So, could you tell me what I’m missing about all this?”

Wordlessly, he brought his cup to his lips, fixing you with unblinking eyes the entire time he drank, like you might lash out and attack him if he let his guard down for even a second. You managed to hold his gaze, but that same chill from before began to creep up your spine. It was so intense—and for what? Anyone who saw the way he was looking at you might think the two of you were involved in some kind of centuries-long blood feud between your families.

Even after he’d swallowed, he said nothing, and you felt your patience slip just a bit.

“If I’ve done something wrong, or if I’ve upset you somehow, please let me know,” you added.

“Upset me?” he hummed. “Yeah, actually, you did.”

You tensed.

“When you said I wasn’t funny, it really hurt my feelings,” he announced. “Apologize with flowers and tears, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

It almost sounded like his usual manner of joking around, but your glimmer of hope was put out by that same, cold expression. You tried not to lose sight of your goal, clinging to what Changbin had told you in the cafe. He’s easy to misunderstand.

“Minho,” you began lightly. “I’m being serious here.”

His eyes glinted under the flashing lights. “So am I.”

You allowed your face to drop at last, realizing right then and there that he had no intention of even telling you what you’d done wrong—let alone giving you the chance to make amends with him.

“What, you don’t like that idea?” he feigned hurt. “Maybe you’d rather get on your hands and knees and ask for forgiveness?”

You bristled. “That’s enough.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. A look almost akin to gratification crossed his features, like a crack in your demeanor was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

“Hm. Guess you’re not really sorry, after all.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, okay? Even as a joke.”

“I’d be glad not to talk to you at all,” he shot back. “But it seems you have nothing better to do than pick fights with me.”

Unbelievable. You had to stop yourself from clenching your fists, solely because of the fact your hand was still loosely clasped with Chan’s.

“Pick fights?” you repeated. “I’m trying to fix things between us!”

“There’s nothing between us to fix.”

The way he said it was strange, pointed. You were positive there was a deeper meaning to it, almost like he was implying that there was something for you to fix, just not with him. It planted an unpleasant thought in your mind—or, rather, watered the seed of an idea that was already rooted deep within it.

You’d managed to keep your voice hushed thus far to avoid causing a scene, but the building tension finally seemed to reach a tipping point, enough to catch Chan’s attention. He put his chatter with Jisung and Changbin on hold to give you a curious glance, and, as irritated as you were with Minho’s provocation, you smiled back at him.

“You alright?” he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, eyes darting momentarily in Minho’s direction. He’d turned away from you as soon as the opportunity had presented itself, going right back to talking with Jisung as if your conversation had never even happened. At least one part of what he’d said had been straightforward—he clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

“You’re friends with some pretty weird people, y’know that?”

Chan grinned. “Birds of a feather.”

Your spirits lifted a bit, taking comfort in the fact that he at least seemed oblivious to the altercation that had just taken place. Still, it was a shallow relief. You knew now, with complete certainty, that Minho wasn’t going to make things easy for you.

Of course he wouldn’t. Nothing was ever that easy.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

One month into the fall semester of your senior year, the academic distractions that you’d been longing for all summer were now upon you. Perhaps, even, a bit more intensely than you’d have liked.

Your classes were manageable enough—a significant improvement over the hellscape that was Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics—but the amount of time and effort your research lab demanded more than made up for what might’ve been an easy final term. When you weren’t attending your lectures or completing assignments, you were practically living in the astrophysics lab; analyzing spectroscopic measurements, reconstructing images from interferometric data, observing optical maps of the interstellar medium, and, on top of all that, sitting through countless meetings with your team.

It was as fulfilling as it was exhausting, and though you were more than happy to finally get some hands-on experience in your field of study, you couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful about this new routine as well. Your Experimental Physics II section with Changbin only took place once a week as opposed to the biweekly Thermodynamics lectures, and that, coupled with the lack of study sessions and your limited free time meant you were seeing him much less often than before. It was even worse in the cases of Chan and Iseul, both of which you rarely saw on campus to begin with. Even with Iseul more or less still treating your apartment as her second home, and Chan being his usual, relentlessly considerate self—never going too long without checking in on you—they were both busy with their respective capstone projects as well, leaving your interactions fewer and further between in comparison to the spring.

You knew it wasn’t rational, but it almost frightened you how such minor shifts in your daily life could feel so jarring, especially when graduation, the greatest shift of all, was looming on the horizon. The sands of time were trickling along without a care in the world, changing things little by little until they were unrecognizable. Some for the better, some for worse.

You’d thought you were handling the gaps in your time spent with Chan fairly well; that was, until it dawned on you halfway through September just how often your mind would drift to him while working on your research. Every new set of spectral line data or roAp star photometric variations had you visualizing what his reactions might be—his gleaming eyes that captivated you more than any of the stars you were observing, his voice growing shaky with excitement as he tried to discuss your observations without pausing every few seconds just to gush about how cool it all was.

You weren’t pleased with the number of instances your lab partners had caught you grinning to yourself in the middle of running tests and collecting data, giddy over the mere thought of his presence. As it turned out, Changbin hadn’t been too far off when he’d labeled you as lovesick.

Summoned by your thoughts, your phone vibrated against your desk to signal a text from none other than Changbin. You placed down your pencil in defeat, accepting the fact that you weren’t going to be getting any work done at this rate—daydreaming about how often you were daydreaming about Chan should’ve been indication enough.

bin 😑 (2:03 p.m.) number 5???

You blinked at your screen, dumbfounded.

bin 😑 (2:04 p.m.) number 5 pls pretty pls

you (2:04 p.m.) i sent you number 5 yesterday?

bin 😑 (2:06 p.m.) oh ;;; number 6 pls~~~

you (2:06 p.m.) i think i deserve an honorable mention on ur diploma

bin 😑 (2:07 p.m.) get me thru this hmwk and i’ll make it happen one for you and one for chan ><

The thought of it nearly made you laugh out loud: Changbin, trying to charm his way through the dean’s office to make a proposal as ridiculous as that. You didn’t doubt that he might try it, or that he might actually succeed in doing so.

Shuffling through your papers, you snapped a picture of your assignment, barely managing to fit the entirety of the required work in one shot.

bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.) thank uuu oh speaking of chan lol u know he’s sick?

you (2:10 p.m.) what???

bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.) i knew it he didn’t tell you -_-

You felt a pang of worry, countless questions filling your head at once. It’d been a day or two since you’d contacted Chan, even longer since you’d seen him in person—definitely over a week by now. The last time you’d talked hadn’t been over a phone call like usual; you’d texted him just to see how he was doing, and after a short chat he’d promised to meet up with you sometime the next week. It had been unusual, but not unusual enough for you to overthink it, especially considering how swamped the both of you were.

you (2:12 p.m.) how long has he been sick for?

bin 😑 (2:13 p.m.) couple days? actually more like a week now

Worry twisted into a sense of dread. Why hadn’t he told you?

You didn’t have to question it for long. You knew why—anyone who knew Chan well enough could piece it together with ease.

bin 😑 (2:14 p.m.) he hasn’t gone to class for a few days ㅜ you should visit him if you can

you (2:14 p.m.) yeah, i definitely will thanks for letting me know binnie

If your homework had been an afterthought before, it was long forgotten now. You didn’t bother to clean up your workspace before rising from your chair, leaving the scattered notes and eraser shavings for you to deal with later.

You weren’t sure what you were experiencing as you made your way over to your kitchen, digging around for ginger and garlic and praying that you’d have enough. It was an overreaction, probably, but you berated yourself regardless; for not noticing that something was wrong, for not pressing harder when asking how he’d been, for not questioning the longer periods of time you’d gone without talking. You’d wanted to give him his space, but for it to go as far as him thinking he shouldn’t tell you that he was sick—sick to the point where he couldn’t attend class, stirred something awful in you.

The pot nearly slipped from your hands in all your haste to prepare your materials, and you took a breath, forcing yourself to relax before you set fire to your apartment. Still, the concern, the guilt, didn’t die down. You were so accustomed to being in-tune with every aspect of your relationships, be it friends, family, or romantic partners, making note of every little detail, every subtle shift; sometimes before they themselves could even realize it. But for what was neither the first nor the last time, you had to remind yourself that this was Chan you were dealing with. Of course he wouldn’t tell you—he wouldn’t tell you anything that he believed might cause you even the slightest inconvenience. He would do whatever it took, go to any lengths imaginable, just to avoid committing the unforgivable sin of letting you care about him. It was the complete opposite of everything you'd come to understand about the world, the people around you, and it put you in a position that you weren’t sure you wanted to be in.

You weren’t going to stand idly by, watching him board his openings shut before anyone could catch a glimpse of what was inside, watching him burden himself with the fear of burdening others. Whatever had happened in the past for him to reach that point, you wanted to suck it out like poison until there wasn’t a single drop left in his system. You were going to be there for him, whether he liked it or not.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

His face was the last thing you’d expected to see when the door to unit 8-325 swung open.

Realistically, it shouldn’t have been. He did live there, after all. Like the annoying troll under the bridge that wouldn’t let you pass unless you answered his riddles three. It took everything in you not to make a face as you were met with Minho standing in the doorframe. He, of course, didn’t extend that same courtesy to you, eyes narrowing into an unmistakable grimace when he laid them on you.

“What do you want?”

“Hi to you, too,” you muttered.

His expression didn’t change, and, much to your disdain, you once again found yourself mesmerized by that gaze of his. You hated how effective it was; unreadable, yet communicating a thousand things all at once. Even if he really was as harmless as Changbin claimed, even if his cold glares and cutting comments were the extent of what he could do to you, your skin crawled all the same.

When you saw that he wasn’t planning on dignifying you with a response, you inched forward, expecting to be let inside. That would simply be too easy, though. Minho shifted so that his body blocked your path, pulling the door closer to him for good measure.

“Chan’s sick,” he deadpanned.

You paused, blown away for a moment by his audacity. “I know he’s sick,” you gritted your teeth. “I’m here to check on him.”

You might’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lips start to twitch, but you tore your eyes away too quickly to be certain. The last thing this man needed was whatever kind of ego boost he’d get from you paying a little too much attention to his features.

“Not much you can do,” he dismissed, voice light and airy as ever. “Unless you think gracing him with your presence is gonna make him all better.”

It was your turn to shoot Minho a glare, foot darting out just in time to prevent him from shutting the door in your face. Wordlessly, you lifted the container of galbitang into his view.

He raised an eyebrow, the closest thing to a genuine reaction you could get from him. “Changed your major to the medical route?”

“I don’t see you doing anything to help him,” you snapped.

Your patience was already minimal when it came to this guy, but ever since you’d confronted him at the event in August, it seemed like he’d made it his personal mission to run it as thin as possible every time you interacted with him. It was kind of impressive, really, the way he knew exactly how to push every last one of your buttons with ease.

Fresh out of half-assed excuses, Minho shrugged, as if he’d never even cared in the first place. He let go of the door handle, and you took that as a sign to push past him and slip inside.

You removed your shoes as quickly as you could, not wanting to spend another second around him if you could help it. Knowing that Changbin wasn’t home, you stalked past the kitchen and through the living room, the soothing scent of freshly-brewed yuja tea flooding your nostrils as you did. It almost made you feel bad about what you’d said to Minho, but you knew better than to apologize for it now—if you’d come to learn anything, it was that your peace offerings would be met with even more hostility than your provocation. Instead, you padded down the hallway, heading straight for Chan’s room.

Careful not to lose your grip on the container in your hands, you managed to give his door a light knock. A few seconds passed before you heard a faint “come in”, muffled by the sound of what was sure to be a pile of blankets. You braced yourself, recovering from your Minho-induced rise in blood pressure, then slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind you.

Chan blinked his eyes open just in time to see you approaching his bed. They were foggy, even more exhausted than usual, and they widened slightly when he registered who was standing before him.

“Hi, Channie,” you whispered. “Were you sleeping?”

“N-no, I—” his voice came strained and hoarse, so different from his pleasant, melodic lilt that you had trouble believing it was really him speaking for a second. “I was already awake.”

You rolled his desk chair over to the side of the bed, placing your container of galbitang on his nightstand next to the half-finished cup of tea and army of empty water bottles. He watched, stunned, as you sat down next to him, still trying to process what was going on.

“Um…how did you—?”

“Seo Changbin,” you hummed.

A weak smile formed on his face. “Bin…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” he croaked, not sounding alright at all. “Guess when you told me to look sick I took it a little too seriously, yeah?”

You let out a light giggle, and he tried to join you, only to spiral right into a violent coughing fit instead. It made your heart twist with sympathy, and you reached out to brush back his messy curls, resting your palm on his forehead. His skin was burning, and not in its normal way—if you could even call the amount of body heat he carried with him normal. It was heavy and sticky and pulsing, like you could physically feel the ache plaguing his head.

“Ah, wait,” he warned. “You shouldn’t touch me, you’ll catch it.”

I don’t care. You almost wanted to say it without restraint, but you settled for something more tactful, something less pointlessly dramatic. “You wouldn’t get me sick, would you?”

He flashed you another feeble smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry you have to see me like this,” he rasped, shrinking into the covers so that his face was only half visible.

“Please don’t apologize, Channie,” you ran your fingers gently through his hair. “I just wish you’d told me. How long have you been sick?”

The feeling seemed to relax him, weary eyes drooping just a bit as your nails grazed his scalp. “It’s only been like this for a few days,” he hesitated. “But I first started feeling it last week. Minho thinks it’s the flu.”

You stopped combing through his hair, letting your hand simply rest atop his head. He seemed to sense your disapproval, eyes peeking up at you from beneath the comforter to meet your frowning face.

“It’s not that bad, though,” he tried to assure you. “Just a cough and some headaches.”

“Bin said you haven’t been able to go to class.”

Chan sucked in through his teeth; caught. You sent out a silent apology to Changbin, realizing a split second too late that you’d probably set him up for a scolding as soon as Chan could speak without sounding like he had gravel in his throat.

“I just didn’t want you to worry,” he explained sheepishly. “Especially when you’ve been so busy.”

“I’m always thinking of you, anyway,” you countered, only half-joking. “So, please don’t hide stuff like this from me, okay? That’ll only make me worry more.”

For a moment, he stayed silent, and you got the feeling that your words hadn’t quite gotten through to him. Regardless, he eventually gave you a tiny nod.

“Promise?” you pressed.

“Promise.”

He didn’t hold out his pinky this time to seal the deal, but you chose not to dwell on it considering the fact that his hands were buried under layers upon layers of blankets. Instead, you gave his head one last pat and reached for the thermos on the nightstand.

“Can you eat?”

His face lit up at the sight of the galbitang. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I haven’t eaten yet today, actually.”

You frowned, biting back an exasperated comment. Even if his horribly skewed priorities frustrated you more than anything else—touching a part of you buried so deep within that you yourself couldn’t fully grasp it—you’d visited Chan with the intent of helping him, not lecturing him. There was no changing the outcome now, anyway. All you could do was try and make things a little easier for him, to balance out his determination to create new obstacles for himself as quickly as you could break them down.

“It should still be warm, but I can go heat it up if you’d like?” you were reluctant to ask, not keen on the possibility of seeing Minho again.

“No, no, s’alright,” he shuffled around in the sheets, trying to sit himself upright against the pillows. “I’ll eat it like this.”

As soon as his protective pile of covers slipped down his torso, he was shuddering. Even with the hoodie he was wearing, chills passed through his entire body, so strong that you could visibly see how his shoulders shook.

“Oh my God, Channie,” your voice softened to a tone that he’d only ever heard you use with him, one that soothed his pounding head. “You’re really sick, aren’t you?”

He attempted to say something in response—to deny it despite every cell in his body screaming otherwise—but between his sniffles and chattering teeth, it was hard to make out. You reached out with your free hand and pulled the covers back up his chest, draping them over his shoulders so that just his head and neck were exposed. Chan blinked at you, the confusion on his face morphing into subtle panic when he understood what you were planning.

“Ah…you don’t,” he coughed. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.” You unscrewed the lid and unlatched the spoon from its side. “I want to, actually. If it’s okay with you.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you—the flush that crept up on his cheeks, even more visible than usual with how little color there was to his sickly complexion.

“Okay,” he averted his eyes. “Yeah, thank you.”

You scooped up a portion of the soup, making sure to gather a good mix of ingredients for him, then brought it up to his lips. He blew out puffs of air a few times before taking the spoon into his mouth, still refusing to meet your gaze.

Despite his awkwardness, a cute hum followed. “This is really good.”

“That’s how I know you’re sick.”

He giggled gently, careful not to set off another coughing fit. “No, I mean it,” he licked his lips. “I can taste the flavor, even though my nose is all stuffy.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smiled, dipping the spoon back into the container. “I kinda made it in a rush, so I hoped it’d at least be edible.”

Chan finally looked up, fixing you with a guilt-ridden gaze. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled, just as you brought another portion up to his lips.

“The only person you should be apologizing to is yourself,” you said firmly.

A comfortable silence filled the room, with nothing but the sound of Chan’s slurping and wheezy breaths breaking it. Though the bashfulness was still there—it always was—he gradually came to relax the more you fed him, slumping his shoulders and letting out those content, satisfied noises that you’d come to love so much after each hot spoonful. The sight of him, disheveled as he was, made your heart feel strangely full, the ripples of worry fading out until it was calm and clear. He was being cared for, looked after; even if for just a moment. You decided right then and there that it was the only thing you’d ever ask of him—to dare to let you treat him with an ounce of the kindness he showed everyone but himself.

The steam, garlic, and ginger seemed to do their job in clearing up his sinuses a bit, as his sniffling grew more and more frequent until it was obvious he was having a hard time containing it. He had to refrain from ducking his head, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over him as you plucked a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his nose clean. Still, he thanked you quietly, sinking further into the pillows.

“Is there anything else I can do?” you sealed the now-empty container shut. “I can pick up any missing work for you tomorrow, if that helps.”

Chan’s eyes were half-lidded now, his weariness finally starting to catch up to him. “Nah, don’t trouble yourself. Most of my stuff is on my laptop, anyway.”

For the first time, you noticed the device amidst the blankets and sheets, teetering on the edge of his mattress in a way that made your adrenaline spike considering it was the precious amalgamation of all his blood, sweat, and tears since he’d entered university.

“Have you been working, even now?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “But I think staring at a screen just made my head feel worse. Gonna try again later.”

Before you could say anything else, he changed the subject, like he knew you’d advise against it the instant the words left his mouth.

“But how’s your work? Is the lab going okay?”

Despite yourself, a smile tugged at your lips. You might not have let him get away with it if he hadn’t asked about the exact thing you’d been dying to share with him since the last time you’d met up. Maybe that was what he needed, anyway—something to cheer him up and take his mind off the perpetual ache consuming his body.

“I’m observing a pair of binary stars right now.”

He perked up against the pillows, lifting his head so quickly that it actually earned a light hiss of pain. Still, his face broke out into a smile, exactly the way you’d dreamed of when you’d first analyzed the spectral lines.

“What kind?”

“Spectroscopic.”

His dimples appeared for the first time that day. “The closest pair!” he chirped. “That’s amazing, I wish I could see it.”

“I can show you their Doppler shifts as the next best thing,” you offered. “They’re so close even the telescopes can’t separate them. Isn’t that romantic?”

“Super romantic,” he beamed, eyes twinkling through the glaze of illness. That familiar warmth spread through your skin—just by looking at him, you could tell he was thinking the same thing as you. “Orbiting so close and so fast…you think they’ll change each other’s evolution?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

Like in the case of most binary pairs, one star burned brighter than the other—just the slightest bit. Even if the difference in them was miniscule, you had no doubt in your mind which of the two was Chan.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Space talk could only mitigate the effects of the flu for so long. Chan’s half-lidded eyes eventually drooped all the way shut, his raspy but enthusiastic chatter dying down into barely-responsive mumbles, then, finally, soft, steady snores. It took everything in you not to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, already accumulating beads of sweat as his fever began to break. Even after all your recklessness in getting so close to him while he was sick, you figured that would be pushing your luck a bit too far. Instead, you ensured he had enough water for when he’d inevitably wake up parched, adjusted his pillows so that his head was properly elevated, and tidied up the mess on his nightstand as best you could.

Carefully, you tiptoed out of his room, taking one last look at his sleeping face before shutting the door.

As you entered the living room from the hall, you found Minho seated on the couch; presumably hard at work, judging by the way he was hunched over his laptop, typing up a storm with computer glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He didn’t even spare you a glance when you passed him to toss the empty bottles in the recycling bin. You’d long learned to keep quiet around him to avoid setting off yet another tirade of petty insults and icy scowls, and you would’ve gladly gone without a word if the memory of your earlier accusation wasn’t nagging away at you. That, and, maybe the affection that had bubbled up inside you upon seeing Chan had let down your guard a bit.

Against your better judgment, you mustered up the will to say it. “Thanks for looking after him.”

Minho’s eyes stayed glued to his screen. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Obviously,” you replied evenly. “I just mean I’m glad he has you.”

You were prepared to leave it at that, both to let him resume his work, and avoid the claws that were sure to come out if you kept pressing the matter. To your surprise, however, he piped up again just as you began making your way over to the door.

“If you’re expecting me to say the same about you, don’t hold your breath.”

You told yourself to ignore it, but with just a few words, he’d effectively frosted over all the warmth that Chan had kindled in your chest. Something snapped in you, making you spin on your heels before you could stop yourself.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Minho’s eyes flickered up at last, widening for only a split second before they narrowed again.

“That’s no way to talk to someone in their home,” he clicked his tongue. “If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d kick you out.”

You held your ground, refusing to feel embarrassed about your outburst no matter how much he provoked you.

“Answer me.”

Minho rose from the couch with a sigh, making it no secret what an inconvenience he found you to be, what an utter waste of his time it was to even address you.

“What makes you think I have a problem?”

You let out a bitter laugh. The absolute gall of this man.

“Don’t play dumb with me, okay? Changbin told me this is just what you’re like, but I haven't seen you treat anyone else the way you treat me.”

Minho was closer now, still a few feet away, but near enough to put you on high alert. He looked so unrecognizable these days, you’d forgotten what it’d ever felt like to be comfortable around him, to be in the same room without that unease spreading through your skin.

“You think you’re special?” he sneered. “Do your ego a favor and listen to Changbin.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he carried on, still managing to sound so carefree despite the venom in his words.

“Unless, of course, you’re the only one allowed to give orders here.”

You froze.

“What?”

“Hit a nerve?”

“What are you talking about?” You had to contain yourself, solely for the meager hope that maybe, just maybe, you might get a clear answer from him for once.

“I’ve seen your type before, too many times,” he spat. “Chan just can’t seem to break that ugly habit—falling for people who only know how to take advantage of him.”

You bristled, so enraged that you couldn’t even think to answer. All that filled your head was red, hot anger, defiance, and, buried beneath all that, fear.

Anger that he had the audacity to speak to you that way. That he’d passed such a cruel and absurd judgment without so much as bothering to get to know you first. Defiance that he thought he had you all figured out when he didn’t even know the half of it—of what Chan meant to you, of what you’d been through, of the people who had chewed you up and spit you out just like he was implying you liked to do.

Fear that he was right. Fear that someone else was capable of having those thoughts about you, that they weren’t just your own baseless inhibitions. The lingering effects of what he had planted in your mind, never quite uprooted.

“My type,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Is just as capable of being taken advantage of.”

Minho crossed his arms, stare unbreaking as if inviting you to continue—to prove yourself to him. The thought alone made your stomach churn.

“You’re not as smart as you think,” you hissed. “You don’t know the first thing about me, and whatever happens between Chan and I is none of your business.”

He sniffed, unimpressed. “When you hurt him, it will be.”

He said it with so much certainty, so much confidence, you nearly believed it yourself. You clenched your fists, mustering all your strength to control the irrational amounts of rage bubbling up inside you. You thought of Chan, asleep in the other room amidst his nest of sweaty blankets and tissues, fighting off the flu on top of everything else he had resting on his shoulders. You thought of his exhausted face, paler than usual, and his cracked voice, still trying to reassure you even when he was in such a miserable state.

You took a deep breath, and you softened.

“I’m not going to hurt him.”

Minho said nothing. Maybe he thought it was too easy to counter, maybe he thought it wasn’t even worth acknowledging. Either way, you were done trying to make sense of him—done trying to defend yourself in front of someone who had long decided you were guilty.

So, he hated you. You could probably live with that. You didn’t exactly have a glowing opinion of him either.

You turned around, making a beeline for the door and slipping your shoes back on as calmly as you could. But, of course, it wasn’t over quite yet. Ending things on your terms, where you got the last say, wasn’t an option when it came to Minho.

“Running away from the fight you started again?” he called lazily. “This is getting boring.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Iseul’s sigh rang out through your apartment, so loud and so exaggerated this time that you couldn’t in good conscience brush it off. Half-amused by her transparency, you paused the show on your television, turning to give her a questioning look.

“Something wrong?”

“Look at that!” She gestured aggressively at the screen, where the male lead, soaked and forlorn with a bouquet of flowers in hand, was waiting in the pouring rain outside of his love interest’s home. “Where do I find someone like that, huh?”

You giggled, only to realize with a start that she was being dead serious. She pouted at you, and you cleared your throat, rushing to correct yourself.

“Are you still having problems wi—?”

“Yes,” she interjected, as if exasperated that it’d taken you this long to notice. “We had an argument earlier today. He called me needy, can you fucking believe that?”

You let out a hum of disapproval; you’d never really gotten a good vibe from this guy from the start, especially as Iseul’s boyfriend. He was far too emotionally unavailable for someone as expressive and sensitive as her.

“Why would he say that?”

“He’s just a dick. All I did was ask him to help me practice my marketing presentation—y’know, since you didn’t have the time to,” she added. You guessed it was probably just her frustration speaking, but something about the way she said it seemed off, like you were partially at fault for not being there to help her in the first place. “Then, after like two tries, he gets all annoyed with me saying I’m being way too nitpicky and wasting his time.”

You knew better than anyone how high-strung Iseul could be when it came to academics; it was the trait in her that had initially sparked your friendship, after all. She could be demanding, sure, but it was only because she cared so much about performing well. Being there for her any chance you got wasn’t even a matter of debate for you—it was the bare minimum, whether for a friend, or a significant other.

“Anyway, I’m still waiting on him to apologize,” she huffed. “I’m not the crazy one here, right? Like, do you think he has a point?”

“You’re not crazy.” You pressed your lips together, trying to approach the matter with caution. “I think you just have high expectations for people.”

“But that’s not a bad thing!”

“Of course not,” you agreed. “As long as you treat them with the same consideration.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “I could literally be the best girlfriend ever if he’d just let me. He literally never appreciates the things I do for him.”

“Maybe you just have different ways of showing your care for each other?” you suggested. “You can try bringing it up next time you talk.”

Iseul groaned, dragging her hands down her face, as if the thought of urging him to have a mature, emotionally open conversation with her caused physical pain. “I guess. If he ever even bothers to text me again.”

“How long has it been?”

She looked away, uncharacteristically meek. “A few hours.”

“He usually takes that long anyway, right?” you reasoned. “He’ll definitely come around, try not to stress too much about it.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “I’m sick of thinking about it. How are things with Chan?”

It was the only detail of your life she ever really asked you about lately. You didn’t mind most of the time—you were more than happy to talk about him over other, significantly less pleasant things, but in this case, you felt a twinge of discomfort. You hated that the first thing that came to mind wasn’t Chan’s crinkled eye smile, but rather, Minho’s relentless death glare. The thought was unnerving enough for you to consider bringing it up with Iseul, just as a way to get an outside opinion from someone who wasn’t Changbin or Chan. Unlike them, Iseul didn’t know Minho at all, and you liked to think she was blunt enough to tell you objectively if you were in the wrong.

“Pretty good,” you hesitated. “Well, there is something—”

“I’m sure they’re more than just good,” she interrupted again. “All you ever do is hang out with him these days.”

You flashed her a grin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone to entertain myself with once you’ve settled down?”

You were met with another huff. She crossed her arms, eyebrows furrowing in a way that immediately told you she wasn’t in the mood to joke.

“Doesn’t mean you have to ditch me now that you’ve got yourself a boytoy.”

“C’mon, Iseul,” you tried to keep your tone light. “You practically live here.”

She picked at her fingernails in silence, and you felt yourself start to panic a bit, suddenly taking the implication that you’d been neglecting your friendship much more seriously. You hadn’t noticed a difference, save for how much busier your schedules were this semester—but that was inevitable given how hectic senior year was for everyone. As much as Chan consumed your thoughts (something Iseul was better off not knowing) you barely saw him more often than her; in fact, given everything he was constantly juggling at once, you probably saw him less.

“What are you always so busy with, then?” she questioned at last, the slightest bit accusatory.

“The same as you. Classes and my senior research.”

You couldn’t decipher why she looked so unconvinced by the explanation, like the idea of you being preoccupied with your own personal matters was somehow incomprehensible to her. She shifted around in her spot, clearly set on the idea that there had to be more to it than that.

“Fine,” she turned her head back to the television, still frozen on that same, pitiful frame from the drama. “I still need someone to help me practice though, and I’m definitely not asking him again. So, it’s gotta be you.”

“Sure,” you replied. “I can definitely find time.”

You wanted to believe that she was just in a foul mood because of the fight with her boyfriend—and maybe that really was the whole of it. Surely, she wouldn’t dismiss the past two years you’d spent helping and supporting her the very instant you had to focus on yourself for a bit.

Even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help but wonder for the first time if the scale between you and her was more out of balance than you thought.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

October had arrived at last, bringing with it a pleasant chill in the air, early tints of orange on the trees, and a fresh wave of midterm exams. Most importantly, it brought Chan’s birthday. He’d recovered from the flu a mere few days before the third of the month, and you’d never been more grateful for the sight of his radiant smile and rosy cheeks, full of so much life that he energized not just himself, but everyone around him as well.

His birthday fell on a Tuesday, not exactly the most ideal time for a celebration between Experimental Physics II and The Life and Death of Stars, but you’d been determined to make it work. You would’ve made anything work if it meant getting to spend even an hour with him on the day where he was, for once, the center of the universe. A small get-together had been planned later in the evening at his apartment—actually a small get-together this time, as promised so seriously by Changbin—but you’d come up with an excuse to skip out on it. No matter how hard you wished it didn’t bother you, the idea of being under the same roof as Minho again had been all the reason you needed to keep away. You had no doubt in your mind that he’d do everything in his power to make you feel unwelcome, and you didn’t trust yourself to remain collected around the guy after he’d proven time and time again how talented he was when it came to riling you up.

The last thing you’d wanted was to cause a scene on Chan’s birthday; it wasn’t even worth risking. If you put a damper on his happiness simply because you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting with his best friend like two feral street cats each time you crossed paths, you’d never forgive yourself. Instead, you’d met up with him for lunch and pastries earlier in the day, with the perfect excuse to cover all the expenses for it—much to your delight, and much to his dismay. Even if you were a bit wistful about missing out on the real celebration later, Chan’s beaming face when he’d opened your gift, the best external hard drive you could afford, had more than made up for it.

It’d been a week since then, another week where you and Chan barely found the chance to lift your heads from the sea of work to check in on each other. You knew that he was especially overwhelmed. His sickness couldn’t have come at a worse time, leaving him playing catch up with all his missed assignments and lectures on top of the stress of midterms.

Your thumbs hovered over your phone screen, tapping against each other as you debated whether or not to send him a message. As if on cue, it lit up with a notification that made your breath catch.

channie 🐺 (1:03 a.m.) you awake?

you (1:03 a.m.) yeah hi channie

There was a delay before he texted again, three little dots appearing and disappearing below your chat bubble more than once, like he was repeatedly typing and deleting what he wanted to say.

channie 🐺 (1:07 a.m.) can i call you?

The question felt strange, unlike him. You’d grown accustomed to expecting his calls the very instant he’d find out you were available—more often than not, without any warning at all.

you (1:07 a.m.) do you even have to ask?

channie 🐺 (1:09 a.m.) i should probably start haha sorry

You frowned. Something was definitely off.

you (1:09 a.m.) nooo that’s not what i meant ur calls are the best surprise

Another minute passed without a response, and you began to worry that you’d actually upset him. Then, your screen lit up again, this time to signal his incoming call.

He didn’t greet you immediately after you picked up like he typically did. You registered the subtle sound of whirring on the other end of the line, like a breeze was billowing through his phone speaker.

“Chan?”

“Hi,” he sounded out of breath. “What’s up?”

“I was about to check on you, actually,” you confessed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Your heart fluttered, but it didn’t fully ebb the worry piling up inside you. “I missed you,” you murmured. “Starting to think dropping out isn’t such a bad idea.”

He chuckled—light, barely there. It was gone as soon as it came, as if not to overstay its welcome. The distant sound of a car engine met your ears, distracting you from what you’d planned to say next.

“Are you on your balcony?”

“Taking a walk,” he replied.

You blinked. “At this hour?”

“Yeah, couldn’t really sleep.”

For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. You’d never heard him sound like this before. Blunt, sullen, defeated. A part of you, the hypervigilant part, wondered if he simply wasn’t in the mood to talk—but then, why would he have even asked to call you?

“Oh no,” you made a soft noise of sympathy. There was a pause as you mulled over how to approach it; whether to nag him not to get his adrenaline rushing so late, to offer words of comfort for whatever seemed to be bothering him, or to pretend like everything was okay, just to take his mind off of it. You didn’t want to keep pressing after you’d already asked once, but something was very clearly wrong; so wrong that Chan himself was making little effort to hide it.

“Do you want to look at the moon?”

A deep inhale. “Yeah.”

Wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder, you pulled up the blinds of your bedroom window and pushed it open, allowing the cool, October air to waft through your senses and drift over your skin. The moon was in its Waning Crescent phase, a thin, delicate slice of light illuminating the clear sky. You tried to picture Chan on the other end, the wonder in his tired eyes, the slope of his nose tilted upwards as he admired it like it was the first time it’d ever graced the night.

“Are you looking?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’ll be a new moon soon.”

“Yeah,” he said again.

A silence stretched across the call, not quite uncomfortable, but not quite serene, either. Even from afar, you could feel the thoughts buzzing in his head like they were your own, disturbing any peace the view might usually wash over him. His breathing, at least, steadied, and you guessed he’d stopped walking to get a proper look at the sky.

The two of you stayed that way for some time, long enough for you to start filling the gaps with his absentminded humming and sweet vocalizations. There was none of that today; just silence.

Then, you heard it. Faint, muffled, like he’d turned away from his phone to avoid letting you catch it: a sniffle.

“Channie,” you whispered. “Are you really okay?”

“Just my leftover cold, don’t worry.”

You kept quiet. You both knew he’d fully recovered well over a week ago.

“Sorry,” he said weakly. “Can I come over?”

“Right now?” You glanced at the time. It was already nearing 2:00 a.m., you didn’t want him to make such a long walk this late, especially not in his current condition. “Why don’t I come meet you?”

“No, no, ‘s alright.”

“Well, of course you can come. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended. It left you feeling heavy with unease, an emotion you’d never once associated with Chan. As foreign as it was, it made you all the more determined to be there for him, to take on some of the weight he carried everywhere he went before his knees completely buckled underneath him. In your eyes, he was just like the moon he loved so much—always shining down on you with the brightest side of him, and never allowing you to see the other. You wanted to break the tidal lock and see the dark side of the moon. To uncover all the hidden craters and basins and accept them as a part of him.

Not even ten minutes had passed before you heard a knock at your door, far too soon for him to have arrived by foot. It made you realize, with another tug at your heart, that he must’ve already been on his way to your apartment when he’d first called.

When you swung open the door, there was a short lapse before his smile came, strained, but relieved. His hair was tousled from the wind, eyes outlined with dark circles, and black jacket unzipped. It hung loosely off his shoulder, and when you pulled him into a hug, you could feel the chill from the outside air lingering on his skin. Even so, his persistent warmth still seeped through; it always did.

Neither of you said anything as you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other room. You settled down next to him on the edge of your bed, facing the window where the moon was still watching over you. Chan kept his eyes firmly locked on it, but his fingers brushed tentatively against yours, tracing the lines of your fingerprints and palms as if to commit them to memory.

“Sorry for bothering you so late.”

“You could never bother me,” you said simply.

It was so immediate, so natural, it had him taken aback for a moment. He sucked in through his teeth, well aware of your gaze studying his side profile with growing concern.

“At the showcase,” he mumbled. “Did you really mean what you said?”

The question could’ve been in reference to anything, but somehow, that was all he needed to ask for you to know exactly what he was talking about.

“Of course.”

Memories of him up on that stage flooded your mind. His charisma, his passion, his belief in Changbin and Jisung and, for a fleeting moment, himself. Just thinking about it was enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin.

“When I saw you performing, all I could think about was how much you belonged up there.”

Chan’s breath hitched. At last, he turned his head to face you, that same look from the night of the party—the one that troubled you for reasons you couldn’t explain—crossing his features again. Hopeful eyes searched for any hint of insincerity, any shadow of a doubt, only to find nothing but raw affection.

He leaned in suddenly, brushing his nose against yours in a wordless plea, and you closed the space between you. His lips were the slightest bit chapped from the crisp autumn air, but their plushness was never lost, consuming your senses with that soft, irresistible quality you could never get enough of. He melded seamlessly into you, filling every gap and crevice, pulling you further in like waves lapping at a shore.

Chan turned slightly on the bed, angling his body to bring himself closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours. For such a simple touch, it made him sigh sweetly into you, lips parting to add a new degree of heat to it all. His fingers flexed in your hand, and you used the other to cup his face, holding him steady as he moved his mouth with increasing urgency. Cute, tiny sounds built up in his throat each time your tongue slid against his, growing louder and louder until he was all but whimpering into your mouth.

His desire, normally thinly-veiled by a layer of timidity, was on full display tonight—not quite pushy, rather, begging with every pucker of his lips and graze of his teeth for you to take things a step further, to let him fall completely into you. It was a lack of restraint you often had to build into, to guide him there yourself. You kept telling yourself to get a grip, to break the kiss and check on the boy who, just minutes ago, appeared to be on the verge of falling apart; but it was fruitless to even think about ridding yourself of a sensation so addictive. His free hand reached for your waist, hesitant as ever to grab on as tight as he needed to. Instead, he took your shirt between his fingers, playing with the fabric in a way that, strangely enough, was even more exhilarating.

The sounds spilling out of Chan became muddled together, and it took you a few seconds to realize that he was trying to say something to you.

“Please,” he whined. “Please, please.”

You ran your thumb along his cheek, unlocking your lips from his at last. “What is it, baby?”

“Need you,” his breath was shaky, lungs aching from the intensity of the kiss. “Can I make you feel good? Please, let me this time.”

You paused, pulling away to get a proper look at him. “Are you sure?” you frowned. “You don’t look well, Channie. Why don’t we talk?”

“N-no, ‘m okay. Just really need you right now.”

His gaze flickered down to the spot between your thighs, and he swallowed. It affected you more than you wanted to admit—the pure want in his eyes for something so selfless.

“I’ll be good,” he promised. “However you want it, I’ll do it. Please.”

You scanned his face a few moments longer, trying to put aside the arousal spreading through you at an alarming rate, just long enough to get a read on him. Your concerns were still very much there, but the look on his face told you that he wanted—needed this even more than you did.

Gently, you squeezed his hand one last time before unlacing your fingers. “Alright...if that’s what you want.”

Chan watched, mesmerized, as you repositioned yourself on the bed, resting your back against your pillows and slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to tug them off.

“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “I’ll do well. Promise.”

It nearly made you coo out loud. All this just to please you, just to satisfy desires that, unbeknownst to him, were already fulfilled just by being with him. Still, you knew Chan well enough to understand that it wouldn’t sit right in his mind until he gave you everything he had to offer. He’d give you his all if only you would let him.

Even as you slipped off your underwear, he stayed put, unmoving until you gestured for him to come over. He licked his lips, eyes shining in the low light when you spread your legs at last. Your heartbeat picked up as he settled between them, suddenly so close that you could feel each shaky breath of his tickling your sensitive skin. Tentatively, he placed his hands on your thighs, glancing up at you to ensure that it was really okay. You gave him an encouraging nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak when the only thing you could focus on was how dangerously close his mouth—his perfect mouth—was to your most intimate spot.

With your permission granted, he began pressing kisses to your inner thigh. They started off with that same shyness you knew, careful and reserved, but quickly became less and less controlled the more his mouth roamed. His lips were smoother now, wet and glossy, and they sent tiny jolts through your senses each time they came in contact with your skin. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought he was purposely trying to tease you, giving hints of what he could make you feel without diving in fully just yet. But the way he kneaded your flesh with the pads of his fingers, a low, desperate noise bubbling up inside him, said otherwise. He was appreciating every bit of you, basking in the moment, as if he may never get the chance to have his head between your legs again.

His sloppy kisses drew closer and closer to your heat, and when his lips came to hover over it at last, you had to stop yourself from pushing against his face right then and there. Delicately, his tongue slid out to glide from your entrance right up to your clit, ending it with a gentle flick that sent a shiver down your spine. He repeated the action almost immediately, a sweet hum escaping him as your arousal flooded his tastebuds.

Your hand fell down to his head, gripping his curls in a way that made his own pleasure spike, if the sudden whine he let out was any indication. He continued licking away, each intoxicating lap of his tongue growing more confident and making you ask yourself just why on earth you’d ever deprived yourself of such a feeling. It satiated a need that you hadn’t even known was there to begin with, twisted the muscles in your core with both tension and relief. If it’d been a while since he’d used his mouth like this, it certainly didn’t show.

“Am I…” he slurred. “Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you assured him. “My sweet boy, using that pretty mouth for me. Making me feel so good.”

Your praises earned a moan from him, so loud you’d think he was the one experiencing the hot, delicious rhythm of his tongue. The sound vibrated against your folds, making your toes curl and your nails dig further into his scalp.

“You really like this, don’t you?” you giggled breathlessly.

“Mm. Just wanna—mmph—please you,” he managed between licks. “Wanna be a good boy for you.”

Before you could respond, heart-shaped lips wrapped unexpectedly around your clit, engulfing it with his plush, wet warmth and sending shockwaves all throughout your body. Despite your best efforts, you gasped, barely able to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs around his head. He sucked eagerly, adding just the right amount of pressure that, if kept up, was sure to draw you to a climax faster than you’d ever experienced before.

“Just like that.” You let your eyes flutter shut. “Good boy. You were made for this.”

Chan dragged his upper lip along the sensitive bud, the tip of his nose brushing against it in a way that threatened to snap the tightening coil in your abdomen all at once.

“Made f-for you,” he stuttered out. “Please, tell me I’m good for you. Tell me ‘m okay.”

You weren’t sure if it was his own arousal becoming too much for him to bear, but his voice had become near-frantic, as did the strokes of his tongue. His movements grew sloppier and sloppier, drool mixing with your essence and nose dragging along your folds almost obsessively.

You ran your fingers through his curls, hoping to keep him grounded. “More than okay. You’re perfect for me, baby boy.”

A broken whimper met your ears, driving you closer to the edge. “Yeah? ‘M doing well? Please, tell me I’m good,” he begged. “P-please, wanna be good enough.”

Amidst all his pleading and babbling, the words caught you off guard, pulling you out of your blissful haze all at once. Something wet dripped against your skin, warmer and thinner than any of the other fluids pooling at your core, and it made your eyes snap open in alarm.

“Channie?”

“I’ll do it right.” He didn’t look up, still working his mouth despite the choked noises building up in his throat. His hands pawed at your thighs, gripping and squeezing with so much urgency that you’d think he was terrified you might disappear. Another hot droplet ran down your skin, and as you blinked to refocus your vision, you finally noticed it—the trembling of his shoulders. “Just please, l-let me show you ‘m worth something.”

“Chan.” Panic gripped you, and you used your clutch on his hair to catch his attention. “Chan, stop for me, baby.”

Every one of your nerve-endings screamed out in protest as he obediently unlatched himself from you, releasing the mind-numbing suction of his lips. But your worry quickly overtook any of the remaining lust in your body. Chan sucked in a sharp breath, refusing to lift his head, and you slid your hand down to his dripping chin, tilting it up into view.

He was crying; tears trickling down his cheeks with fresh ones brimming in his clouded eyes. He squeezed them shut, unable to meet your stare, and your heart may as well have snapped in two.

“Oh, Channie,” you whispered. “Why are you crying?”

“I…” his voice failed him, anything he’d been planning to say fading out into a sob. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

A lump rose in your throat, guilt flooding your chest. You’d known he was off from the beginning—you should’ve done something, you shouldn't have let things get to this point. This was Chan, after all. Of course he’d pretend that he was fine for you, of course he’d try to make himself useful to you instead. You should’ve known better.

Still, you kept calm, even if it was surface-level, you steadied your volume and relaxed your expression; something to ground him amidst it all. “Don’t be sorry. Come see.”

He blinked the tears out of his eyes, only for them to immediately glaze over again. The skin around them had turned red and puffy, and coupled with the exhaustion written all over his face, he looked positively broken. “Sorry, ‘m okay, really,” he tried to insist. “I just…”

One look at your outstretched arms was all it took for him to lose his last shred of composure. He surged forward with a hiccup, falling into you and burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms securely around him, the tear in your heart growing as you felt him shake against you with each gasp and sob that racked his body. His flow of tears didn’t stop, in fact, it only seemed to come stronger in your hold, warm droplets streaming freely and seeping through the fabric of your shirt. You stayed quiet for a bit, just allowing him to release as you ran your hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him.

“Why are you crying, baby?” you murmured again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I c-can’t fail,” he managed at last, barely coherent through the slur of his speech. “N-not again. I can’t.”

“Fail? Why would you fail?”

He didn’t answer right away—or, rather, he couldn’t, another feeble gasp effectively cutting off any response he’d mustered up. Despite the slew of questions his words unleashed in you, you remained patient, cradling his head with your free hand while the other continued to rub his back. For all its strength and broadness, it was more fragile than ever shuddering under your palm.

“It’s my last chance. C-can’t mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess anything up,” you said firmly. Even without any idea as to what he was talking about, you knew that much was true. “What makes you think that?”

Another minute or so passed of him trying to gain control over his hiccups, just long enough to get a proper sentence out. “My mentor,” he took a deep breath. “My mentor rejected my project. S-said it needs a complete rework.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Why?”

You winced at how loud it’d come out, but the utter disbelief in your tone at least seemed to encourage Chan to keep going. He sniffled, still refusing to lift his head from the comfort of your shoulder.

“Just wasn’t good enough.”

“Don’t say that.” The possibility wasn’t even worth considering to you. There had to be more to it; you refused to accept otherwise, not when you’d witnessed firsthand how earnestly Chan poured his heart and soul into every piece of music he’d ever created. “I know that can’t be it.”

A thought flickered to life in your head, one so obvious that you scolded yourself for not realizing it sooner. “Did you have enough time to work on it?”

“I…” he began weakly. “I t-tried.”

“You were sick for over two weeks, Channie. Does your mentor know that?”

His breath caught in his throat, telling you all that you needed to know. “Don’t...wanna make excuses.”

“But it’s not an excuse, is it? It’s just the truth,” you reasoned. “You couldn’t even get out of bed. There’s no way you could do your best under those conditions.”

“I...I sh-should’ve—”

“You should’ve been getting enough rest. You should’ve told him what was going on.”

Your words seemed to reach him at last, cutting carefully through the thick fog of self-deprecation and sabotage consuming his mind just enough for him to really mull it over. He inhaled again, slower and deeper this time, but still not free of that painful tremor.

“M-maybe,” he rasped. “Maybe I did need more time.”

“There we go.” You combed through his hair. “Your best is more than good enough, Channie. Your mentor wouldn’t have done this study with you otherwise.”

You wanted, more than anything, to see his face as you spoke, to look directly into his red, watery eyes and let him know exactly how much you meant it. But you knew how vulnerable he must be feeling for you to even see him like this, so you let him be, hoping the message would get through to him nonetheless. “I’m sure if you explain it to him, he’ll understand. He knows what you’re capable of, and so do I. So please, don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”

Chan’s shoulders relaxed just barely in your arms. He nuzzled further into you, and little by little, the trembling under your palms came to a stop. Given how hard he’d been crying—even now, with new ripples of tears still trickling onto your clothes—you were certain there was something else brewing deep within him. This was only the tip of the iceberg, the breaking point. Even so, you didn’t press the matter just yet, instead choosing to nurture the hint of calm that had begun to creep up on him.

“Do you really think I can do this?”

Your hand slid down to the nape of his neck, playing gently with the wisps of curls that swooped out. “I know you can,” you murmured. “And even if I didn’t, you’d do it anyway. You were made for this.”

A sweet sound, something between a sigh and whine, spilled out of him. Under any other circumstances, you knew he wouldn’t accept it without a protest or two, but in that moment, he absorbed it wholly—clung to it, even. His head finally lifted from the mess of tears and sweat that had formed in the crook of your neck, only to fall right into your chest instead, not quite ready to face you.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and he scooted impossibly closer to you, his thigh brushing between your legs in a way that you willed yourself to ignore. “Why don’t we go wash up?”

He tightened his grip on you, another soft noise gracing your ears. “Can we stay like this, please? Just a little longer.”

You softened. “Of course. Anything you want.”

He slumped fully against you as you rested your hand on the small of his back, the last of his reservations effectively washing away. You played loosely with the hem of his hoodie, listening to the sound of his breathing and taking comfort in the fact that it was finally beginning to even out.

The two of you stayed peacefully like that for several minutes, that was, until something warm and damp spread through your shirt, immediately catching your attention. Not tears this time, rather, the feeling of Chan’s mouth pressing against your chest.

Your heart skipped a beat. His lips puckered faintly, forming a moist ring over the material, right around your nipple. Just as you were about to pass it off as an accident, it happened again.

“Is there something you need, Channie?”

“You,” it came muffled. He parted his lips, wider this time, nibbling delicately on the fabric. “Can I? Please?”

It didn’t take much thought for you to understand what he was implying. An uncharacteristically self-indulgent request, one that filled you with affection and pooled heat in your stomach all over again.

“You’re so cute.” You couldn’t help yourself, his transparency made you melt like nothing else—you only wished that it would extend to other aspects of his life, ones that you were equally as hungry for.

Careful not to disturb him too much, you slipped your hands under your shirt and wiggled out of it. Chan lifted his head, albeit briefly, to make it easier for you to unclasp your bra. The instant your skin was bared to him, he nestled right back into your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sending a spark of electricity through your body. He sucked gently at the bud, taking in your scent through his nose and exhaling contently. His hand, covered by the sleeve of his jacket, reached up for your other breast, pawing at it with timid fingertips before squeezing the soft flesh at last.

“My sweet boy,” you cooed. “My baby boy who works so hard he forgets to care for himself.”

He whimpered, puckering and unpuckering his plump lips in a way that would’ve made you rub your thighs together had he not been settled between them. You cupped the back of his head, and his eyes fluttered shut, a look of pure bliss crossing his face. The red, hot flush from all his crying was replaced with something softer now, a rosy shade dusting his puffed cheeks.

“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you continued. “I hope you’ll see it one day. I’m so proud of you.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, an especially high-pitched whine escaping him. For a moment, you worried that he may begin to cry again, then, you felt it—his bulge brushing against your leg. His hips rocked forward so subtly, you weren’t even sure if he himself was aware of it, but once you’d noticed, it became hard to ignore the spike in your adrenaline.

Driven on by the feeling of his tongue swirling hungrily around your nipple, you let your hand drift down to the waistband of his pants. His mouth fell open as you traced over his bulge, all but jolting against you. “A-ah, yes. Touch me,” he pleaded.

“My baby’s so needy today,” you teased, dipping your fingers into his underwear and wrapping them around his half-hard length. He tightened his hold on your chest, his low, drawn-out moan sending a delicious vibration through your skin. “But good boys like you get whatever they want.”

Chan unlatched his lips from your nipple, only for any attempt at a reply to be cut off as you began pumping your hand along his dick. The cool night air drifting through your window was no match for the heat building between your bodies; that same, inexplicable heat that always drew you back to him. His fingers flexed around the softness of your breast, and you realized with a soft giggle that he was subconsciously mirroring the pace of your strokes.

You stopped to roll your palm over the head of his cock, smearing the droplets of precum around to add a layer of slickness to your movements. The cry it earned was nothing short of heavenly, ringing out shamelessly through your bedroom and making your core clench. Chan’s hip shot up into your grasp, so overtaken by the pleasure that he forgot to keep sucking for a moment, instead letting his mouth hang as drool began to dribble from its corner.

“Does that feel good?” you asked sweetly.

“Mmph, yes,” he slurred. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You deserve it,” you guided his head closer to your chest, allowing him to take your nipple between his swollen lips again. “You deserve to feel so good, angel.”

A wet, sticky sound, mixing with Chan’s pleas, began building as you glided your hand up and down his cock more steadily. Despite everything, it flustered him the moment he registered it, legs squeezing together with a broken whine.

“You hear that? Even the sounds your body makes are cute,” you hummed. His eyes, already shut tight, scrunched up even further to form an adorable look of embarrassment. “My pretty boy. You don’t even know how perfect you are for me.”

“Please,” he mewled, almost unintelligible through the skin and drool occupying his mouth. “Please, ‘m getting close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?”

He could only whimper in response, cock twitching in your hand as you added a delicious pressure to your strokes. He kneaded your chest with more vigor, leaning in to suck on your other nipple and sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. His mouth was like wet, warm velvet encasing the sensitive bud; you found it hard to believe that those same lips had been between your legs earlier, drawing you to a climax with a purpose that you could only describe as raw devotion.

“Gonna—!” Chan’s hips bucked up, his whole body tensing. “A-ah, please, can I?”

You swiped your thumb playfully over his slit, and he practically keened. It was cruel, probably, but his unrelenting need to please you, even amidst all the desperation clouding his judgment, only made you want to toy with him more. Still, you knew that given the state he was in, teasing was out of the question. He needed comfort, pleasure, relief—and all of it rested in the palm of your hands.

“Let me see you cum like a good boy.” You gave one final jerk of your wrist, sending him over the edge at last. His thighs clenched, voice catching in his throat for a moment before breaking out into a gasp. Even so, he kept sucking to the best of his ability, babbles of your name dying down into soft mewls as the last few spurts of his seed coated your palm. You held still to avoid overstimulating him, curling his hair absentmindedly around your index finger until his cock finished throbbing in your grasp. Chan blinked his eyes open, still hazy and puffy, just in time to see you remove your hand from his pants and spread your fingers, connected by thick strings of his release.

“Look at all that,” you marveled. “You really needed this, huh?”

A low whine built in his throat. He pressed his cheek into your chest, shying away from the messy view.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Mhm,” he managed a chuckle—quiet, still missing the jovial, melodic quality of his laughter, but even a trace of it was all it took to lift your spirits. Other than that, he said nothing, and you guessed he wasn’t entirely grounded just yet. You reached for a tissue from your nightstand, making a light grunt of effort with Chan’s full weight resting against you, and wiped down your hand to the best of your ability. As you leaned back against the pillows, your stare flickered down to the boy in your arms. He was an absolute wreck now; a sweaty, flushed, beautiful wreck of dried tears and drool gazing back up at you like he would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.

“You did so well for me, Channie,” you praised. “Such a good boy.”

Pressing a quick kiss to his ruffled curls, you shifted beneath him, wordlessly urging him to let you wiggle off the bed. His reaction was immediate, sweater paws gripping your waist with an unexpected intensity.

“W-wait,” it was tinged with panic. “Don’t go, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you assured him, tapping the tip of his nose. “But we need to get you cleaned up, don’t we?”

He blinked a few times before the words seemed to get through to him. Then, with a slow nod, he hoisted himself off of you. It came as a surprise—though it shouldn’t have—how your body instantly longed for his warmth again. You took both of his hands into yours, almost tempted to push his sleeves back to properly lace your fingers together. But he seemed content with his palms covered like that, safe and secure in a way you didn’t dare to disrupt. With care, you tugged him up by his arms, letting him lean against you as you guided him to the bathroom. He didn’t let go of either of your hands the entire time, and, as awkward as the intimate gesture made it to walk, your heart fluttered.

You set the water to a warm temperature, watching Chan sway back and forth on his feet as you filled up the tub. His eyes were a bit more alert now, breaking the glaze that had encased them all throughout the night, like the reality of what had taken place was beginning to set in his mind.

“Wanna get undressed for me, Channie?”

There was a delay before he responded, long enough for you to give his hand a squeeze.

“Oh…yeah.”

Reluctantly, he released his hold on you, clumsy fingers fiddling with his hoodie in an attempt to shrug it off. With a fond smile, you reached out to help slide it down his shoulder. His arms fell limply to his sides, and you took it as a sign to keep going, slipping your fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugging it off, his pants and underwear following soon after. Even now, he ducked his head, unable to look you in the eye as you shut off the stream of water and ushered him into the tub.

As he sank into the warm pool, a sigh escaped him, so soft and relieved that you could practically feel the bliss rippling through his body. You sat yourself down on the edge of the tub, taking a moment to soak your washcloth before drizzling it with body wash—vanilla and cherry blossom, a blend of scents you’d quickly come to learn was Chan’s favorite. He loosened up the instant you came in contact with his skin, leaning into your touch. Gently, you began to scrub, lathering his broad back and shoulders with the sweet, flowery smell and admiring every curve and muscle in the process.

The rhythmic drag of the loofah and the gentle lap of the water had him reduced to putty in your hands in no time. He didn’t bother to resist the way his eyes drooped shut, each tranquil rock earning a small hum from him.

“Does that feel nice?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Channie. Your muscles are so tense,” you added. “I hope this helps a bit.”

He hummed again, tilting his head to the side as you moved up to the junction of his shoulder and neck, the comforting scent of your soap fully flooding his nostrils. Knowing how sensitive his neck was, you were careful not to press too hard around the area. It was horribly timed, but your skin tingled as you passed over the spot where you’d previously marked him—long faded by now, but you remembered the visual clear as day.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “About all of this.”

“Don’t apologize,” you ran the cloth along the slope of his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t want you to hide stuff like this from me—isn’t that what we promised?”

He hesitated. “I…yeah.”

“Even big, strong shoulders like yours can’t carry everything by themselves,” you scolded lightly. It earned a puff of laughter, and even with his eyes still closed tight, he lowered his head sheepishly.

The question that had been lingering in the back of your mind all night—the question that had been eating away at you since you’d first met him, really, made its presence known once again. The missing piece of the puzzle, the hidden crater yet to be illuminated. You knew by now that Chan wouldn’t reveal it without a strong enough nudge, no matter how badly he wanted to. Even if it was threatening to burst out of his chest, just aching for a pin to come along, he’d use all his strength to keep in until you punctured it yourself.

“Chan,” you pressed your lips together. “When you said ‘not again’…can I ask what you meant by that?”

He stiffened under your palms, features darkening to form that same expression as all those months ago, when you’d first asked why he’d changed majors. You repressed the urge to take it back this time—you needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.

“Spring semester of my senior year,” he mumbled. “I failed most of my classes.”

Something awful gripped you, so intensely that you stopped scrubbing for a moment. Failed. It felt so wrong coming out of his mouth, a word you couldn’t comprehend ever applying to him.

“I…I decided to change from astrophysics and try music. It was something I always kinda wanted to do, anyway.” He sounded so nervous—terrified, even—shrinking into himself as he spoke as if each sentence made him more and more vulnerable to some hidden assailant waiting to attack. You continued your ministrations with the hopes of easing his fears a bit, wringing out the washcloth before adding more soap and running it along his chest. Even through the rough material, you could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“My parents, they…I've never really disappointed them like that before,” his voice cracked on the word “disappointed”, like it physically pained him to say. “I still don’t think they’ve really accepted it. They still look at me like…like I'm…”

He trailed off. He didn’t have to say it for your gut to wrench.

“Maybe once I graduate, they’ll think I'm worth something again.”

“Please, don’t talk like that,” you couldn’t hide your own distress. “You’re worth something as you are. It’s your future, Chan, not theirs.”

“But what if I can’t do it?” he whispered. “What if I just fail again? I’m so…so scared that I’m making the wrong decision.”

“It must be scary,” you agreed, gliding the washcloth along the tense curves of his arms. “Really hard, too. But that’s because you’re carving out your own path. No one else has walked it before you to clear out the way.”

He went quiet, and you took it as a sign to continue, a chance to keep swinging at the seemingly indestructible wall of self-doubt he’d so carefully crafted for years.

“You’re not alone, either,” you encouraged. “Think of Bin and Jisung and all that faith you have in them. Think of how much faith they must have in you to follow you down that path without question.”

If only he knew—if only he saw the admiration for him written all over their faces, oozing from every word they spoke. If only he knew the admiration you’d felt for him as early as when Changbin had first told you about him choosing music composition. Daring to take a route that, in many ways, was more challenging than even the most horrific of astrophysics courses. Not only that, but daring to flourish, leaving room for flowers to grow along the way wherever he roamed.

When Chan replied, you could've sworn you heard the faintest glimmer of hope in it. “I guess I never really thought of it that way.”

“Well, start thinking of it that way,” you chided softly. “I know you can do it. Just because others want you to do something, doesn’t mean it’s right. What’s right is what makes you happy.”

He loosened up further, welcoming your cleansing touch and your words of compassion more and more openly. You washed him in silence for another few minutes, debating in your head whether or not to keep pursuing the matter, to peel back another layer of him and get to his core.

“Were you…unhappy doing astrophysics?”

“Not exactly.” You got the feeling he could tell what you were really attempting to ask him. “I meant it when I said I liked it. That’s…not why I failed.”

You made a noise of understanding that masked the countless other things you wanted to say. He jolted just barely as you ventured down to clean his stomach, approaching his most sensitive area with a touch as gentle as it was deliberate. Care with a purpose.

“The…the person I was with, at the time,” he paused—whether to gather his thoughts, or to gauge your reaction, you weren’t entirely sure. Your eyes widened just a bit, but you kept your hand stubbornly occupied, scrubbing over his sore thighs. Like clockwork, they nearly closed in on each other. “She had a lot going on. Her mother was really sick; in and out of the hospital a lot.”

Even as dread stirred within you, like you knew exactly where this story was going, you left him space to continue.

“She just needed some help with everything she was dealing with in her life, y’know? I wanted to help.”

“I know you did,” you murmured. It was a given, one of the few certainties in life. Chan would always help, for no reason other than the fact that he could.

“I t-tried to be there for her. Took her wherever she needed to go, helped with her classes, visited her mother, looked after her little sister when she couldn’t,” he swallowed. “Then, around May, things got really bad. Her mom needed treatment for a few weeks, so I spent most of my time at the hospital or taking care of her sister.”

Something about the way he phrased it made you feel compelled to ask, “Where was she during that time?”

“Dunno,” he chuckled, humorless. “But I can probably guess.”

You stole a glance at his face. His eyes were open now, locked on the bubbly water and refusing to meet yours, like he might break all over again if he did. “In the end, I guess I didn't prepare well enough for my finals. Didn’t pass most of them. So I figured, if I was gonna be taking more semesters, anyway…i-if it wasn’t going to be perfect, I might as well start from scratch, y’know? Do it right this time.”

“Oh, Channie,” you rested your hand on his head. “That’s too much. That’s way too much.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t h—”

“No, no,” you didn’t even want to give him the chance to second-guess himself. “Please, don’t hold back. I’m listening.”

He was sugarcoating it, you knew he was. Even now, two years into the aftermath and still suffering the effects of it, he was trying to dismiss it all as something casual.

“What about her? What happened?”

Chan shrugged, reaching up for his ear. You didn’t push him as he fiddled with the silver hoop, instead taking the opportunity to grab your bottle of shampoo and squeeze some of the substance into your palm while he found the will to answer.

“When she found out I wasn’t graduating, she ended it,” he said at last. “Think it was already over, anyway. She was with someone else a few weeks later.”

“Oh my God.”

Through the haze that had been filling his head the entire night, your emotions still reached him with ease. “I brought it on myself, though,” he added quickly, as if the excuse—had it been even remotely correct—would’ve made it any better. “It was all just my own stupid choices. I can’t really say it’s her fault.”

Yes, you can. It took every ounce of self-control to stop yourself from pressing your nails into his head, just to avoid hurting him. You weren’t sure what drove the urge most: sympathy, protectiveness, fury. You couldn’t even begin to fathom it—you didn’t want to fathom it. To be presented with a heart as pure and honest as Chan’s, a love so selfless and sincere, only to trample all over it like it was worthless.

Despite the whirlwind that had spiraled to life inside you, you settled for something softer, a tenderness that, clearly, had been missing from his life thus far. You rubbed the shampoo delicately into his hair, swirling the dark curls around in a way that sent pleasurable ripples down his spine.

“It’s not your fault,” your tone left no room for debate. “Someone took advantage of your kindness. But showing that kindness? How could that possibly be your fault, Channie?”

He sucked in a sharp breath. You wondered if it was the first time he’d been told anything like that—whether by himself, or anyone else.

“I never do things for people to gain anything from it,” Chan began, and you knew, more than anything, that he meant it. “But…”

He hesitated, giving a quick shake of his head, as if to compose himself.

“But it hurts to be used.”

“Yeah. I understand.” You understood more than he could know, more than you could say in that moment. Tears had begun to well up in his eyes again, and for his own sake, you scooped up a portion of water in your hands and began to cleanse his head of the shampoo, letting the streams mask any fresh droplets that may trickle out.

“She never really did anything like this,” he said softly. “Most of the time, she’d just leave.”

Everything clicked into place. All the missing pieces of the puzzle, all at once, with each realization serving as another pang in your chest.

“Chan. I need you to know, right now, that this is what you deserve. All of this, and more.”

Faint sniffles and dripping water echoed throughout the bathroom. In this case, you welcomed it over his usual protests.

“I see everything you do, for me, and everyone else. You never give up on people, even with more than enough reason to,” you ran your hand through his hair, watching the wet ringlets slip through your fingers. “I admire that so much about you, but you still need to think of yourself once in a while. It’s not worth it—it’s never worth it to give your all to someone who will only see the empty husk left behind.”

Vaguely, you saw it, the slow nod of his head. It filled you with hope, the possibility that he might start to see himself the way you saw him, even if just a glimpse. Just a glimpse of him was bright enough to pierce through any darkness.

“One day, all that kindness you put out into the world is gonna find you again. I promise.”

He turned his head to look up at you for the first time, eyes gleaming with something other than tears.

“I think it already has.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Neither of you said much as you continued bathing him, a quiet spell—comfortable, once more—passing between you and allowing everything that had been said to settle in your minds. You took your time conditioning Chan’s hair, giving each lush, beautiful curl the proper attention it deserved until you were fully satisfied. By the time you had finished rinsing him off, your legs were aching from sitting in the same, uncomfortable position for so long, and you were certain his were too. You helped him rise from the tub to the best of your ability, taking a moment to admire the streams of water traveling down his body before you passed him a towel.

As you re-entered your bedroom together, you immediately went to shut your window, not keen on creating even the slightest opportunity for Chan to catch another sickness. He was rocking on his heels again, looking seconds away from collapsing into your bed; he likely already would have if it weren’t for the fact that he was clad with nothing but a damp towel.

You dug around for a bit before locating a fresh pair of sweatpants he’d previously left at your place. When you presented them to him, he grinned for the first time that night.

“Been looking for these,” he commented. “They’re my favorite.”

“Well, they’re mine, now,” you teased. “But I can let you borrow them, I guess.”

To your surprise, he brought the garment up to his nose, and it took you a moment to register that he was breathing in the scent of your laundry detergent. It was almost ridiculous, how such a small action made you feel like your heart was going to erupt out of your chest.

The two of you settled into bed once he’d changed, and the exhaustion that had been gradually seeping down into Chan’s bones throughout the entire course of the night—even before that, probably—took over at last. You pulled the covers over your bodies, and he nestled into you before your head had even hit the pillow, his misgivings from your first night together nowhere to be found.

You prayed that he’d be able to sleep soundly tonight. His warmth washed over you, lulling you into dreams of your own. As you opened your mouth to wish him goodnight before your consciousness escaped you, you heard it. A mumble, just audible enough for you not to pass off as your own imagination.

“Think I love you.”

He was so drowsy that he may not have even noticed if you chose not to respond—you weren’t even sure if he noticed that he’d said it in the first place.

You rested your hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“I love you, too.”

Something twisted deep within you as you returned his words. Not because you didn’t mean them, but because you did.

#bang chan x reader #skz fanfic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #skz smut #sub!skz #sub!bang chan #sub!chan #dom!reader #skz x reader #skz angst #skz imagines #bang chan imagines

950 notes · View notes

destroy-me-baby · 1 year

Note

Leon Kennedy headcanons? (Please, Bitte, include Ashley somehow thank you)

Leon Kennedy NSFW hcs + Ashley

Requests are open, see pinned post.

Content Warnings: mentions of sub/dom dynamics, begging, orgasm delay/denial, edging, punishments, “mommy/daddy” and “sir/ma’am” used as a title, overstimulation.

This is nsfw, if you are underage or uncomfortable with the previously mentioned content, please continue scrolling.

Sub!Leon hcs:

- Oh you have no fucking idea.

- This man is desperate for affection and praise, I can practically smell it on him.

- Mostly an obedient sub, especially RE2 era Leon, but anything after that he will get a bit brattier.

- Mommy/daddy kink for sure. He loves it when his mommy or daddy is kind and gentle with him, and will pull him into their chest for aftercare as they rub his back.

- He’s a softie at his core, he wants to be taken care of and to care for others. Definitely giving me some service sub vibes, he will practically beg to eat you out or suck your dick.

- “Please, can I make you feel good? Please untie me, or sit on my face, or whatever you want as long as I can make you cum? Please??”

- Speaking of begging, when you overstim him he tends to go nonverbal, mainly just whines, whimpers, and the occasional “please-“ mixed in here and there.

- But when you edge him? Or G-d forbid straight up deny him? It’s a whole different story.

- “Please- please can I cum? I’ll do whatever you want, I promise! Please??“

- To the point that any soft dom would probably cave and give him what he wants.

- Hard doms though? I think Leon would prefer soft, but if he got around a dominant who’s a stickler for the rules, all that training will come in handy right away.

- “Yes sir/ma’am, right away sir/ma’am.”

- Like I said, RE4 and up Leon is more of a brat. His main recurring offense is back talking. Nothing crazy like outright insulting his dominant (unless it’s someone like Luis, let’s be honest with ourselves), but he’ll definitely argue.

- “Why do I have to be tied up so tight? I thought you just said I’ve been good?” “What do you mean I’m not allowed to cum? Why the hell not?”

- Takes his punishments like a champ. RE2 Leon not so much. Expect some crying and lots of aftercare, and he will be apologizing throughout.

- “M’sorry, I won’t do it again- I’ll be good from now on! Please stop!”

- “”hates”” being spanked. Heavy emphasis on those quotation marks.

Dom!Leon hcs:

- This man is a fucking TEASE.

- He’s not a hard dom by any extent of the word (once again, unless it’s someone like Luis who gets him all riled up), but he loves verbal teasing.

- “What’s the matter, princess? You want something?” “You wanna cum? Too bad, so sad. You’ll just have to wait.”

- You know all those dumbass one-liners? Yeah. He’s not above doing that to someone during sex. He will make puns, and he’ll do it shamelessly just to watch someone’s face contort in a mixture of laughter, disappointment, and pleasure.

- Will have his partner do little challenges every once in awhile. For example, keeping them stuck to a vibrator for a certain amount of time, and asking them to hold back their orgasm until he says so.

- Which brings me to toys. Leon is more than happy to do everything himself, but he will never be opposed to using vibrators, flogs, gags, whatever you want in addition to himself. He may be desperate for praise, but he’s not so insecure as to get jealous over a piece of plastic or silicone.

- As previously mentioned, he wants to take care of people so bad. Either sub or dom, he wants to feel like he’s doing a good job, and like he’s worth something to someone.

- No matter what type of scene it was, expect very soft aftercare. He’ll leave kisses on each sore wrist and ankle, and walk his partner through every step of the way as he gets them a water, cleans them up, etc.

- “You did so well, I’m so proud of you.” “Here, honey, let me hold you until you catch your breath.” “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

Bonus hcs - Ashley

- To be entirely honest, I’m not a fan of Ashley in a sexual context, nor is it something I think of.

- But she’s definitely not an innocent little woman like Capcom may have portrayed her as in the original.

- She may have a reputation to uphold as the president’s daughter, but let’s be real, this is a grown ass adult, and despite her situation in the fourth installment she had her eyes on Leon from minute one.

- Of course, when they first met she was more concerned with getting out of that church alive (as was her savior), but once they got a minute and she saw those muscles?

- Holy hell. That’s about all you can say.

- I don’t ship Leon and Ashley whatsoever personally, but if they were to be intimate I feel like it would be to blow off steam. Maybe calm their nerves for a bit while they’ve got a moment alone and momentarily safe.

- No BDSM dynamic, but Leon would definitely take the lead.

- “Let me take care of you, Ashley.” Whispered in her ear and she’s GONE.

- He would definitely eat her out, and they’d better hope there are absolutely no enemies nearby otherwise the whole village will be on their backs. She is loud.

- Leon likes his partner to be loud. It makes him feel accomplished. Win-win.

#sub leon kennedy #dom leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy hcs #resident evil #Ashley graham smut

458 notes · View notes

zarasu · 10 months

Text

What I think about Bingge

So, funny story: I did not start out liking Bingge. I doubt most people do. The first thoughts I had about him were "Damn, boy's fucked up" and "Who starts ripping off limbs without even asking questions first?" He seemed more like the final boss of a horror game than a fleshed-out character.

Then I finished the book and went "Ehh do I wanna read the extras?" Tbh, I skimmed a lot of them but the Bingge vs Bingmei one was one of the few I fully read, just because the premise sounded interesting.

And it was interesting alright, to see Bingge do something else than torturing people and ripping off arms. But none of it really made my brain light up until that little scene where Bingge watches Shen Qingqiu fuss over Bingmei. Then he asks him to come with him, to choose him, and Shen Qingqiu says no. Bingge returns to his own world, sad and alone.

"Well, sucks to be you," I thought, and "lol, I sure hope that doesn't awaken anything in me."

...

Two weeks later, I found myself lying in bed, thinking about Bingge with a single tear rolling down my cheek.

I really shouldn't be sad for him, I told myself. He has a big harem full of hot women to tell him how great he is all day. If he's not happy, then it's really his own fault.

But what if he's more the monogamous type, my heart wailed back. Or what if he's too fucked up to let anyone love him??

Ugh, alright, I gave in. Let's think about him then.

So, Bingge is a power fantasy made for incels. But even Bingge was Bunhe once. He shares a past with Bingmei and they are, at their core, the same person. And if you can say one thing about Bunhe, it's that he really has an undying hopeful streak. Sure, when Shen Yuan transmigrated, it took him a while to gain Bunhe's trust. But even after all the beatings and insults and humiliation, he did gain it.

Bunhe gave him his trust because he desperately wants Shen Qingqiu to love him. And, if not love him, at least like him. And if not that, then at least not hate him. When Shen Qingqiu actually showed notions of doing just that, loving him, he was all over that like a dog getting a treat and a head pat for the first time in his life.

But Bingge never got that. He hoped and hoped and kept hoping for Shen Qingqiu to show even a hint of affection and all he got in return was the firm assurance that, no, Shen Qingqiu would never feel anything but hate for him.

That has to give a guy issues. Probably makes him feel deeply unlovable. Hate himself, even. Binghe is a little dumb about things like these, he likely didn't give up hope until Shen Qingqiu physically pushed him into the abyss. He probably spent a lot of nights in the abyss crying into his dirty little sleeves.

But you gotta find ways to cope with heartbreak, right? So, eventually, lightly charred Bunhe stood up straight, turned his little determined protagonist eyes up to the sky and said: "I'm going to make him regret it! He will rue the day he cast me away!" And he went on to become stallion protagonist #1, demon emperor, conqueror, etc etc.

The thing is this: if you build your whole identity on the idea of making the guy who hates you regret his feelings, you're not really over him, you get what I'm saying? You're like, the opposite of over him. Not a good emotional state to connect to the hot women throwing themselves at you either.

So yeah, after that, Bingge did all kinds of things that aren't really that important, but eventually, he got Shen Qingqiu where he wanted him: in the water prison (also kneeling at his feet). And I'm sure I have an inkling of what went on in his dumb little head. It may have been something like:

"Aha!! Now I have the evil Shizun in prison, where evil men like him belong! Finally, people have told him how evil he is! I'm going to go and talk to him and make him see the error of his ways. And when the horror of what he did finally dawns on him, and he apologises, I might forgive him and give him another chance."

Shen Jiu being Shen Jiu, he probably laughed right in Binghe's face and also spit at him too, for good measure (as is, in this case, kinda relatable). So Binghe's righteous little plan didn't quite work out as he wanted it to. This procedure might have been repeated a few times but, well.

Binghe's emotions are already volatile on a good day. Add Xin Mo to that. Add childhood trauma and Shen Jiu to that. One time, he snaps and reaches out to rough Sqq up a little, just to make him regret his own behaviour. Underestimating his own strength, he rips off his arm instead.

Awkward situation, that.

What are you supposed to do after ripping off someone's arm? Maybe Binghe just went to bed and stared at the ceiling for a while, thinking about his life choices.

See, at this point, another person might have thought: "My life is going in the wrong direction. I need to change something, maybe go on a journey of self-discovery or something."

But Binghe has never been the best at things like morals and ethics, no matter what version of him we're talking about. Even Bingmei, who had a comparatively more stable home life, never really got the hang of that stuff (Turning some people into lifeless husks? Well, better than fucking someone, right? The man you love apparently just isn't as insane about you as you are about him? Time to destroy the world^^)

Anyway, you gotta go on, and I'm sure Binghe found some convincing enough arguments for why ripping arms off was an acceptable thing to do.

"But Zar," you may interrupt me. "How can anyone think that's an acceptable thing to do?"

See, in all honesty? I think, deep inside, Binghe knows it's not. But right next to that knowledge lies another knowledge: it's that he's unlovable. And if he's unlovable, it can only be because, at his core, he's already rotten. And if you're already evil? You might as well do evil things, doesn't make much of a difference anymore.

So things escalate, surely not helped by Xin Mo. Shen Qingqiu loses limbs with the same speed other people lose socks, and when even that doesn't heal him of his evil ways, Binghe comes up with the whole Yue Qingyuan plot. And when even that doesn't help, he loses his patience and kills everyone.

Then he sits there, on his throne, surrounded by hot women, fully charred, not so little anymore, and without a Shizun he can hope to one day convince of his worth.

There sits Shen Yuan, a world away, growing increasingly frustrated at how purposeless Bingge's life has become.

Then the extra happens, and Bingge gets transported to a world where another Binghe got everything he ever wanted: the love of his Shizun. And, all at once, the hope he thought he had killed and buried flares back to life, never having been dead after all, and burns Binghe up until he's nothing more than the bare bones of his desperation.

But the other Shizun doesn't love him. He only loves the other, inferior Binghe. He looks upon Bingge coldly before he sees his husband and his eyes turn warm. And it's like Bingge is looking at a funhouse mirror, at a world of dreams and wishes that never came true.

In the end, he's still as unlovable as he has ever been. And he goes back to his own world, and he feels flayed with the knowledge of everything he will never have.

And I just think it's impressive how Shen Qingqiu manages to break every version of Binghe without even trying.

#svsss #svsss meta #original luo binghe #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #idle thoughts #pidw

357 notes · View notes

quodekash · 27 days

Text

yeah so im gonna make my silly little commentary posts for we are sometimes but not all the time

he stared at his friend's water and started smiling like a fucking idiot 💀

h2o just makes him giddy like that 🥰

also I genuinely fucking adore Pham and Fang's dynamic, they care about each other so much (I might cry)

I JSUT FUCKING LOVE HIM SO MUCH CAN YOU BLAME ME

im sorry, i cant get over the fact that q fuCKING SANG SOUND’S SONG FROM MSP IN THE THIRD FUCKING EPISODE OF THE SHOW

HES JUST SO SMOL I FUCKING ADORE HIM SO MUCH DUDE

here to pick up his twink

HES JUST SO SMOL THO LIKE CAN YOU BLAME ME???

I JUST WANNA RUFFLE HIS HAIR AND PINCH HIS CHEEKS HES SO FUCKING ADORABLE

i think i just really love satang cos during msp every time sound was on screen i lost my shit and now every time toey is on screen i lose my shit

btw i fully had to rewatch that entire scene, i was entirely focusing on satang’s little adorable fuckin face that i forgot to read and process the dialogue lmao

his expression is like “did you bring me here to do your chores, or are you gonna be honest and just say you want to makeout"

the real answer is just that he wants to spend time with him btu doesnt know how to do that normally 💀

(and also that he wants to make out with him)

WHY IS EVERYONE SO FUCKING SMOL TODAY

HES TINY

HES THIS BIG 🤏

OML IT HAPPENED FOR LESS THAN HALF A SECOND BUT I PAUSED IT AT THE EXACT PERFECT MOMENT

I genuinely adore accidental kiss tropes in bls, its just so unrealistic its fucking amazing

[insert image of phum's friends walking in here (I had to delete some of my screenshots because I can only do 30 and I dont want to do more than one post for this)]

AND THEN HIS FRIENDS WALK IN, CLASSIC

it's so awkward and I am LIVING for it

people in bls always walk in at the WORST possible moments and its AMAZING

THIS WHOLE SITUATION IS SO RIDICULOUSLY FUNNY TO ME

phuwin’s character trying to cook is so me

and also my sister, one time she was making spaghetti bolognese for us for dinner and she put way too much salt, and then to attempt to solve the problem, she put water into the pan to "evaporate the salt" 💀

the best part is I didnt even realise why that wouldnt work until my brother started laughing

anyway, back to the ep

WHAT DRUGS ARE IN THIS EPISODE TO MAKE EVERY SINGLE FUCKING CHARACTER SO BABYGIRL

THEYRE ALL SO SMOL AND ADORABLE AND BBG WHAT IS GOING ON

HES SO TINY

Youre fucking KIDDING

IM SO SUDDENLY INVESTED IN THIS MAIN COUPLE

THAT WAS SUCH A SUDDEN SWITCH BRO

literally last week I was like "yeah okay I like it" and then suddenly im on the verge of tears when they make physical contact???

[insert image of pun eating]

PUN !

MY LITTLE GUY

I ADORE THEMMMMM

oh fuck yes I love this friendship already and it just started

AND CHAIN'S GETTING JEALOUSSSSS FUCK YEAH

they look like tired dads fr

is phuwin just fuckin short or is pond like 3 metres tall cos holy shit

LOOK AT HIM

SMOL BITCHES

EVERYONE'S FUCKING TINY TODAY

woah he really just went for it there

HOLY FUCK HE SAID YES

TAN IS LOSING IT HES SO HAPPY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

great frame

[insert that entire scene with the jump onto him and the holding hands and the FUCKING CHEEK KISS]

HES MY LITTLE FUCKING GUY

HES SO NEURODIVERGENT AND I ADORE HIM

KICKING AND SCREAMING MY FEET RN

he's jealoussssssss

I love pun so much, I truly would die for him

Welcome back to another episode of Toey Thinks Peem And Phum Are Dating (And He’s Right)

Im gonna be completely honest, if pond looked at me like that, id probably do whatever he tells me to without a second thought

thats all im saying

LOOK AT THAT LITTLE FACE

HES SINGING THE FUCKING ABAAB SONG

IM CRYING DUDE THIS IS AMAZING

ARE THEY JUST GONNA SING SONGS FROM OTHER BLS FOR THE QHOLE SERIES? IM FUCKIN DOWN FOR THAT DUDE

this song is so out of winny’s range tho 💀

so fucking SMOL

also chains hand just always naturally rests on pun’s shoulder

literally all the time

what im saying here is I think they should kiss

HE DIDNT JUST GRAB HIS WRIST HERE HE GRABBED HIS HAND ERIJKGBNREJB HOLY SHIT

Cool! 👍

im glad they finally got there

FUCK YES NEXT EPISODE WE'RE GETTING THE SCENE FROM THE PILOT THAT MADE ME LOSE MY SHIT

PUNCHAIN FOREHEAD KISS AND QTOEY CHEEK KISS BITCHES

okay now I just have one final question before I take my leave: what the FUCK was the song playing in the background of the qtoey scene near the end of the episode

it was just electric guitar and I KNOW recognise it but I cant figure out what fucking song it was (literally I finished the episode at like 1:30 but didnt go to sleep til 3 because I was trying to find the song)

so please, if ANYONE recognises it and knows what it is, tell me as soon as you can cos Im fucking dying

update: a moot is pretty sure the song played over other qtoey scenes earlier in the show (the same way msp did with noelm) so now im fuckin PSYCHED for the new song that’s gonna come out eventually

52 notes · View notes

buff-muffin · 5 months

Text

Random little One piece modern AU thoughts and I guess scenes I had about mainly Luffy

1. Luffy is the best guy to take to karaoke. While he isn’t the best singer he’s also not the worst. However he sings with his whole chest and heart and will sing duets with anyone no matter how lovey or metal. His energy always brought everyone out of their shells he just has a bad habit of singing when it’s not his turn

2. I feel like in a modern AU Luffy would still be friends with a lot of the people he met in series just under different conditions. Like water 7 instead of the mayor almost being assassinated he just. Met him. Like on good terms. idk, maybe Luffy saved tyrannosaurus and now they just exchange animals pics and the occasional “hey I’m heading to insert place where should I go to eat” and Luffy just introduces the Baratie with no heads up to Zeff and Sanji and when Sanji spams the group chat freaking out he just says you’re welcome :D

3. Luffy keeps the contacts of everyone he’s met and keep them under their nicknames. Monster granny, hammock, split head ect. It’s the only way he can remember them after all. When nami had gotten nosy and decided to go through his contacts she obviously asked who tf ice pops was. Imagine her surprise when Luffy confidently answers that it’s the mayor from a few towns over.

4. In a modern AU the ASL brothers were totally still bush kids. Like. Dadan’s (probably community house) was right by the woods and they would have a similar childhood to canon with less killing wild animals. But they also a thousand fucking percent had a Nintendo Wii. Like Ace and Sabo fought tooth and NAIL for player one and Luffy was banished to player three with the dingiest controller known to man (not even the safety strap could protect that thing from getting tossed at the tv) And speaking from my own experience as a younger sibling Ace totally spent a whole summer trying to unlock every character in Mario kart.

5. Law met the straw hats in collage at 2 am when they got kicked out of a bar and he was trying to mind his own business. While they saw him in their intoxicated state and said “you’re my friend now :)” Law was genuinely worried half of them had alcohol poisoning. An hour later he found himself in one of their apartments two of them passed out. One of them throwing up. All while he makes a grilled cheese for Luffy, the so called infamous man on campus who is crying sitting on the floor cause he’s starving. Law stayed the night to make sure none of them drowned in their own vomit and like imprinted baby ducks they have not left him alone since.

6. Luffy has been going to riots and movements for years. He started going with Sabo and Ace growing up when they were teenagers and hasn’t stopped. He also never thought to mention it to any of his friends until they saw him on the news at a protest absolutely fucking SENDING a tear gas canister back at the cops

7. I kinda wanna believe while devil fruits don’t exist in modern AU the character still has quirks semi related to their fruit. Like Robin is just, double jointed everywhere and could bend her arms and fingers in all the worst ways. Luffy can either contort his body to hide in tiny places OR he has stretchy skin. It’s nothing more then party tricks but it is cool

8. Luffy was definitely a gymnastics kid. Not in like. The competing sense. But in like the, one of the adults in his life would drop him off there twice a week for an hour. Did he participate with the other children and learn how to roll? NO! He was flinging himself full speed into giant foam mats and climbing rock walls without a harness. He was a menace to society and he was only taken to blow off some energy and it WORKED. Until he was kicked out.

#you bet your ass I have a list of what every OP character mains in mariokart #if there are spelling or grammar mistakes suck my digital dick #no post time skip spoilers please and thank yall #one piece #one piece au #one piece modern au #Luffy favouritism #luffy #monkey d. luffy #asl brothers #trafalgar law #I know little to nothing about that man yet here I am #headcanon #sorta?#rambles

81 notes · View notes

w1ldthoughts · 3 months

Text

Greatest Loves

Anon Requested

Disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION, the characters are fictionalized versions of real life situations and real people. It’s all based on my imagination.

Masterlist

“Making the decision to have a child – it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ” ―Elizabeth Stone

You thought you knew the capacity of the heart. It was simple, your heart keeps pumping blood throughout your body, keeping you alive and it really is just a workhorse of a machine, until it stops beating. There’s a limit. But the emotions associated with the heart, the ability to love and to receive it, that was a whole other entity that you thought also had its limits.

The love that came bursting out of your chest when you met your husband really tested those limits. Heart skipping a beat at the sight of him and that weird feeling in your stomach that was nerves but also excitement and the most pure joy imaginable. You thought it couldn’t get better than that.

And then you had Remi.

Love had reached a new level since then, being a mom was like all the most raw emotions known to man all crashing into each other, all wrapped around her little fingers when she was born. It truly was like your heart was beating outside of your body every time you saw her. Your heart actually grew and continued to grow just in time for Camden to enter the world.

His bright green eyes had burst onto the scene two weeks ago and had turned your world upside down. You and Justin were in love instantly. Other than the eyes, Cam was a spitting image of you.

“Okay, little man is all changed. I’m gonna go pick up mini. Do you mind if I pick up some Killer Burger on the way home? I don’t think I can do another freezer meal.” He looks like he’s about to gag so you stifle a laugh, nodding at him.

“Please do, I love our families so much for taking care of us but, I’ve had enough and I’m pretty sure I heard Remi say she was bored last night while we were eating.”

Justin sways from side to side, holding the baby that seemed to fit perfectly in his hands. He slowly places the him in the bassinet, running his finger down Cam’s cheek with a grin on his face. “He’s not going anywhere babe, he’ll be right here when you come back.” You joke, wrapping an arm around him. He was desperately trying to keep it together but it looked like he’d burst into tears any moment at the sight of the infant. You jokingly called it sympathy hormones.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve never loved anything before,” he pouts. “And they say I’m emotionless. Is it crazy that I’m going to miss him in the 30 minutes that I’m gone? Being a parent is really…humbling.”

You look down at the peacefully sleeping baby, taking it all in yourself. “I know,” you sigh, “it’s like you’re obsessed with them and you wanna kiss them all the time and hold them forever. Next thing you know they’re in preschool and telling you that they need a phone.”

“Remi asked you for a phone? She’s four.” Justin looks mortified, wracking his brain as to why his daughter would ever need that.

“Great question. I think you should ask her.”

“Hi mini, did you have a good time at the zoo with Papa?” He asks her, opening the car door so she can slide in and get into her seat.

She shakes her head and looks out the window, facing away from him. “Need some lone time please.”

The slight quiver in her voice almost shatters him but he simply nods, getting in the driver’s seat and taking off to the restaurant. She doesn’t speak to him the entire ride home, barely acknowledging you when the two of them walk into the house.

“What’s going on with little miss Grumpy?”

He shrugs, digging into one of the bags and handing you a burger. Cam was going to wake up starving soon so he knew you needed to eat. After two bites you put the food down, all you could think about was Remi. And then Cam started crying and your heart was in two different places at once. Justin went to Remi’s room to ask her if she was ready to have dinner and you brought the baby downstairs so you all could at least be relatively close to each other. Remi didn’t want to eat and chose to sit next to you on the couch instead.

“Mama. Put Cam down.” She demanded, glaring at him like he was a foreign creature in your arms. “I wanna hold you,” she made grabby hands at you, tugging lightly on your shirt.

“I’ll hold you in a couple minutes baby, Cam has to eat.”

“NO. Cam, go away! I don’t want him.” You and Justin sensed a temper tantrum on its way at the sight of her red face. Right on cue, she started screaming, trying to get you to put the baby on the couch. Justin swooped in and grabbed Cam, already having placed a bottle in the warmer. You picked Remi up, her body clinging onto yours like her life depended on it.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Mama’s got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want baby to leave.” She blubbers into your shoulder, leaving a puddle of tears and a little snot for good measure.

You thumbed away a few leftover tears when she lifted her head to look at you. “Sweetie, Cam is your baby brother. He lives here now, he can’t go anywhere. Are you sad because you haven’t seen me as much as you’re used to?”

She nods and you wrap your arms around her again, kissing the top of her head, feeling a few of your own tears slip out. Your first child felt neglected and you hadn’t even noticed it.

“Remi. Mama is so sorry. I’ve been so busy I didn’t even check on my favorite girl like I should have. Look at me, you are my first baby okay? Nobody is EVER going to replace you. I love you so so much sugar and I will always be here to hold you.”

She gives you a kiss on the cheek, “I love you mama.”

“How much?”

The toddler spreads her arms out as far as she can. “This much.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.”

“I know.” She giggles.

“Don’t. Don’t do that.” Justin breaks through the silence as you’re lying in bed, wide awake at 3am.

“I’m not doing anything.” You lie.

He huffs out a breath, turning around to face you. “Your super loud overthinking woke me up. You are not a bad mom. We are running on very little sleep and trying to keep a newborn alive and a toddler consistently entertained. Oh and we also have to remember that we’re married. And we have to shower and make sure the house is clean and eat and breathe. There’s a lot to juggle here babe, you’re doing great. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.” One of his fingers trails along your jaw, the feathery touch almost instantly melting away the self doubt. He knew exactly how you felt because he was having this exact dilemma while you were calming Remi down.

“I know I just—feel so shitty. She was so sad and I had no idea. How am I gonna do this when we’re back in LA and you have to work?”

“We’ll figure it out, we always do.” You kiss the smile off his face and he deepens it with a satisfied hum, reaching out to cradle your head in his hand. When you pull away he lets out a small laugh. “What was that for? Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”

“I just really love you. Could not imagine doing this with anyone else. Actually—I don’t think I would do this with anyone else.” You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, giving him another quick peck.

“I really love you too. There’s no one else in the universe I would do this with and I mean that wholeheartedly.”

You cuddle into him, your head on his chest as you feel sleep taking over the both of you once again. A power nap is definitely needed because Cam will probably wake up in the next hour. But it doesn’t even matter because one of you will be up to soothe, feed or change him. And tomorrow you’re going to take your special girl out for ice cream. Because your heart has grown over the years, life experiences have shaped you and taught you lessons, the most important one being that the greatest love of all, is the family that you create and cultivate every single day.

#Justin Herbert #Justin Herbert imagine #justin Herbert x you #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fanfic

103 notes · View notes

devoureddreaa · 3 months

Text

“true story”

so...eternal sunshine by ariana grande came out, and true story is top 3. (go stream!!! or listen to get the story. either way, it's getting streams :P). but we dropping back 2 back bangers, that's where it's @. hope you enjoooooy!!!

this is a true story about all the lies, he fantasied about you and him.

this is a true story about all the games..you know he plays.

you and megumi were basically, the star couple of your high school. everyone knew him, and everyone knew you; and everybody thought you two were perfect for each other.

and that’s what it was, it was perfect.

until it wasn’t.

until pretty boy here got way too ahead of himself like his father, and tried to play two ball games with one player. that player being himself.

he’d say he’d be out with friends, but he was actually out messing around around with a cheerleader.

megumi’s studying for a major test he has in a week? nah, he’s at a party making out with some girl in the corner.

meanwhile you were at home, thinking your perfect boyfriend was doing what he was telling you.

and when you found out the truth? it hurt, hell yea. but you really didn’t see the point in crying or being hurt, mostly due to the fact that you didn’t do much wrong. and there probably wasn’t anything you could do to prevent it. so, you just removed him on everything..without explanation.

staying with a cheater ain’t gonna happen to you.

it wasn’t what you wanted, nor was it what you needed.

“y/n, you cheated on megumi?”

“what?” you had just gotten to school, and you didn’t even get to rest your ass in the plastic chair before nobara hit you with that jarring sentence. “what are you talking about.?”

“he told everyone that you cheated on him, and that’s why he broke up with you.” your friend shrugged, “i dunno, none of my business.”

your eyebrows furrowed and your fist clenched. no fucking way he was doing this. your head turned to look over to see that megumi was sitting else where surrounded by his friend.

being consoled…

your feet moved before your brain could, and you were on your way over to him.

“yea man, she—”

“you little shit!” you grabbed megumi by the shirt collar and yanked him out of his seat. he could clearly see you were fuming. “you really going around telling people i cheated on you?!”

“cause you did.” megumi chuckled, “no need to get mad at the truth.”

you perked your head up and saw that the entire class was looking at the two of you. some even recording. you scoffed, and dropped megumi back down to where he originally sat. you realized what was happening, he was making you look like the bad guy by getting a reaction outta you in front of everyone. so even if you were to tell your side of the story, the true side, nobody would even try to believe you.

if he wanted you to play the villian, then you’d do that.

“i know how this goes, fushiguro.”

roll the cameras please! cause once the days started to roll, the lies that came out of megumi’s mouth got even more outlandish. it was like people were paying to see this, to see the scene that megun

“yea, she was a slut.”

“she fucked everyone on the football team, maybe even the basketball team with the way y/n is..”

“i doubt she’s a virgin, with the amount of guys i found in her phone.”

the shit almost made you wanna drop out of school. denying it didn’t work whatsoever, it was like everyone was brainwashed. it got to the point where you just started to accept it, and fed into his lies. you played whatever part you needed him too, and that came with spinning the story a bit.

“you’d find somebody else too, gumi’s head game was weak.”

“why would i stay with him when he fucks with cheerleaders? he probably contracted a disease.”

“eh, yuuji’s lowkey better anyways.”

the minute you started talking back, the minute megumi got his balls in a twist.

you closed your locker to look over and see one irritated megumi, “what?”

“what? don’t ‘what’ me, y/n! yknow what you’re doing!” megumi was one laid back person so seeing him start to raise his voice and his face get kinda red, it was laughable.

you shrugged, “doing what? playing my role?”

“what role—”

“look, if your gonna get mad at the truth. you should watch where you lay, fushiguro.”

you thought doing what he wanted would make him feel better. but it obviously didn’t, and it confused you, but you didn’t stop cause he told you to. you were fine being the one he loved to hate, megumi was bothered..and you weren’t.

the next girl he got with (and cheated on), he got caught. no matter how much lying he tried to do, the proof was concrete and undeniable. you explain your story at all, you knew what was true and what wasn’t.

everybody wanted to believe what they heard, no what they were told.

clap it up, clap it up. ya girl hasn’t disappeared for a month, no need for applause! i’m here all night! (LMFOOOAOA). but, love ariana. love, eternal sunshine. go stream it. hope you enjoyed, love ya baaaaiii!!! (if you saw any typos no you didn’t!!!)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #x reader #fanfic #fushiguro x y/n #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi x you #megumi x y/n

48 notes · View notes

noddytheornithopod · 25 days

Text

Some more in-depth Tales of the Empire thoughts/questions

This is really nerdy and nitpicky of me to ask, but... what is Barriss' Inquisitor name? I can't help but wanna know. Then again, we don't know Marrok's name either, and also what the fuck up is with bird man (who until confirmed otherwise I'm treating as the the Sixth Brother being an edgelord dressing as a plague doctor, I will insist the only reason they aren't calling him Sixth Brother is because then the Lucasfilm Story Group would have to admit Tales of the Jedi overwrote published material in significant ways, and then they'd get more angry nerds than they already have to deal with, lol).

I do kind of wish we leaned a bit more into Barriss' established relationships a bit, Luminara Unduli is indirectly mentioned in the last short, and Barriss mentions having a "old friend" who would know more about the Imperials hunting after kids which I HAVE to imagine is Ahsoka... but we don't really explore these. Like, if she DID reconnect with Ahsoka, I kind of wish we got to see that? I do understand why Luminara didn't appear, with Barriss' characterisation I don't think she could've gone through with killing her if they had a test, but still. I don't know if we needed to see her react to her death, but part of me is curious about that anyway. I will say she seemed to sense something when Vader entered the room, though. Did she sense a familiar presence there? Also surprised they didn't even throw in a small nod to how the Grand Inquisitor became what he was because he heard Barriss' speech and that suddenly validated everything he thought already (if you follow the comics anyway). Not even a simple "pleased to see you as a candidate after your rousing speech" line (which was given to... see below). I wouldn't have called this necessary for the story itself, but I always found it annoying that we have to go off on so much of GI's backstory based on paratext instead of actual stories. Also, still don't know his original name even after a decade, RIP.

On a similar note, I'm not really sure how I feel about Lyn Rakish? Specifically, how her relationship was the central one to Barriss' here. I'm not opposed to Barriss knowing more people, it even helps make these characters' lives feel bigger, but I do kind of feel like there's stuff here that would be nice to know. Like, even when Lyn enters her cell, Barriss recognises her, and they way they interact throughout the shorts implies some kind of connection. Especially since...

...her stabbing Barriss was what made her snap out of being an Inquisitor. Okay, I'm not really sure how to feel about this. I love where Barriss ends up, but also... I'm not really sure how I feel about dying? If she's even dead? The scene was clearly mirroring the second short, where Barriss wanted to save that other Jedi, and nothing suggested that she never got to save her (I mean, she's known as "the healer" next short for crying out loud, also hey nice Legends callback), so even if Barriss looks far more dead, there is that part of me still in denial, lol. But thing is, it's kinda like they went "this is actually about Lyn, not Barriss". Sure, Barriss reclaimed her old self and her development was arguably "complete" in that sense, but that doesn't always have to mean death? Meanwhile, we only really get to know Lyn through these shorts, and while I'm very pro-villain redemption, I'm not sure if doing this through three shorts was enough to do it justice. So I'm kinda feeling like being asked to feel for a character finally returning to the light because she maybe killed her sorta protege while barely knowing anything about their actual relationship on a personal level is kinda eh.

That's something I felt in general. Maybe I'm just greedy, but I really wanted MORE of Barriss' story. Like, at least make it clear why Lyn is someone important in her life besides giving her a literal get out of jail card.

With Fortress Inquisitorius, I do think it's interesting they show it being built, but also not really alluding to how the headquarters is apparently on Coruscant, especially with Vader's throne and all. I don't think there's any real contradictions though, the Inquisitorius probably had several bases (I wonder if Stygeon Prime in Rebels was another?), and the main one just became Fortress Inquisitorius when Vader was given reign over the Mustafar System and therefore Nur, where FI is located.

Barriss' line about how she felt like she was lied to and deceived is actually pretty clever, because its placement is almost like an admission she was wrong. She's still clinging to the Inquisitorius by justifying it as "the Jedi failed because of their hubris, they deserved it, we're here to bring peace and order" but her heart was clearly never in it. Despite feeling like the Jedi betrayed their principles, she actually still followed them. In a way, I think it even kind of recontextualises the Temple Bombing, because it feels more like Barriss being panicked and desperate, basically having a breakdown. She did go to the Dark Side, but with the kind of person she is, those emotions aren't natural to her. We see she can certainly still go there, that other former Jedi basically saying "screw you, all for me" certainly evoked betrayal which would evoke those dark emotions, and of course she goes along with the Inquisitorius basically to survive, aka out of fear, and as mentioned justifying it to herself by saying this is justice for how the Jedi "fell" even if she's clearly hypocritical in that regard. We then see in the final short she's reconciled her past with the Jedi, talking fondly of her time as one, and regretting her turning to the Dark Side.

Huh, just noticed the Jedi is referred to with they/them pronouns.

Now for the other stuff

I don't have as much to say about Morgan, but I will say that Bo-Katan receiving the distress call kinda cleared up a contrivance in The Mandalorian for me. I was like "okay sure, even IF Bo-Katan still was in contact with Ahsoka, how would she know exactly where she is at this moment? what if she went off somewhere else?" But then this episode makes it clear Bo received the call, and thus would've figured out what was going on, and then actually tell Ahsoka to go to Corvus.

I hope the Eli Vanto fans are okay, especially since Pellaeon was shown as Thrawn's number 2 in the short. What I will say is - this was just a glimpse of one mission, this isn't retconning Eli out of existence. Thrawn and Eli wouldn't have been together on every single mission.

Morgan was the original person to pitch the TIE Defender? Huh, that is certainly a very random piece of lore. Also, surprised there's still Venator Star Destroyers instead of all Imperial Is at this point.

When Thrawn asks her the real reason she wants the Empire's favour and admits it's revenge, he accepts. He also shows interest in the Nightsisters even here. I do wonder if what made him receptive was he could kind of empathise on some level, if the threat of the Grysk made him open to Morgan's desire to avenge her sisters.

Mountain Clan appears in visual media, cool. Now people know there's even more witches on Dathomir. With the new lore about the Nightsisters, I do wonder if the other clans also have extragalactic origins in Peridea, or if they developed independently and it's specifically the Nightsister sect that was from there. Either way, it seems like the Nightsisters were the biggest and most powerful, apparently Talzin even united many witch clans. Also, I wonder if Morgan and her mother were originally from another clan but moved to the Nightsisters? Because obviously they look pretty different from the standard Nightsisters. Also was interesting to see the architecture resemble what we see in Jedi: Fallen Order, so that was cool.

Also thought it was a cool touch that the Separatists weren't done killing everyone on Dathomir. We only see the initial battle in one location in Massacre from The Clone Wars, but it does help make the genocide feel bigger, even showing that even other non-Nightsister clans weren't entirely safe. IDK if this makes the droid gunships appear earlier than implied to be their creation in TCW Season 5 (then again, chronologically the Dathomir and Onderon arcs are back to back), but also Grievous didn't have a cape in massacre, which is the REAL crime of this short. Hashtag remove his cape!!!!!!!!!!

#star wars #tales of the empire #sw spoilers #tote spoilers #barriss offee #lyn rakish #fourth sister #morgan elsbeth #thrawn #mitthrawnuruodo #nightsisters #dathomir #peridea #ahsoka tano #luminara unduli #grand inquisitor #inquisitorius

31 notes · View notes

sourbinnie · 1 year

Text

and i wouldn't marry me either | minho x gn!reader heavy angst | a pathological people pleaser

"don't you dare take it off, if you do i'm out that door." he said and every word resonate in me. it hit where it hurt and it stung in my heart like never before. argument after argument i tried to give him my all, tried to find a reason why i was staying in a dark hole with no way out. why did i put up with this? love isn't supposed to be all fairytales but it also isn't supposed to be a weight on your chest you can't shake off.

"then what am i supposed to do? continue with my life while you try to destroy me?" i said having enough with all of this. all the fights that led to absolutely nothing and all the drama we created just to damage us. "minho i'm done, i know you never wanted to be with me and that i'm not the fucking best significant other out there but-."

"stop this isn't about that and you know it!" he said, raising his voice again and losing his temper. he was in the same level of done with all this bullshit as i was but he had a more aggressive way of showing it.

"then what is it about? because i can't do it anymore! i don't wanna fight with you. i don't wanna have to tear myself apart just to go through another day with you because you don't love me anymore!" i yelled and this time i left him shocked as i tried to control my tears and my anger at the same time. "can't you see that you're losing me? that i don't want this anymore?"

"you know that's not true, don't fucking say that." he said bitterly but i could see through his mask. he wanted to cry as much as i wanted to bawl my eyes out right at that moment. "you could never leave me... right jagi? you wouldn't fucking leave right?"

it broke everything inside of me to see the tears finally falling from his eyes after every fight where it was just me crying. it also made me mad as hell that he thought i couldn't just leave him, like i didn't have the nerve to do that because i've always been way more introverted and more closed off, like i couldn't make my own decisions without making sure everyone else agreed with me. well if time taught me something, it is that i do have what it takes to grab my things and leave a scene when it got too difficult and catastrophic.

"you're making me want to leave more & more every day." i said clearly with no more tears streaming as i was so completely done. i reached my final point as i saw him getting on his knees to beg for me to stay. "don't you dare, i cannot do this right now minho."

"please jagi. i know it's a lot to ask but think about it for a second, we're supposed to get married! i want the rest of my life with you. i'll be better, i'll do better and we'll get past this." he said and at another time i would've believed every single word he was saying but right now it all tasted the same to me. every lie just got bigger and bigger while every word that fell from his mouth just didn't sound real to me. nothing seemed real, all of this that we built was fake and i was getting exhausted of having to go another day with the same false reality we built.

"no, i can't do this." i simply said and decided to walk in the direction of our shared bedroom. i didn't know if i was gonna leave or stay in this house but every bone in me wanted to head towards the front door. how much did i have to go through for it to get to this point? how longer could i be in a house i never belonged in?

why did the man i fell so hard for made me now want to leave to never see him again?

"is this the end?" he asked as he sat on the bed and i just nodded, not being able to say anything but sitting next to him. as i looked one last time at my ring, i decided it was done for good and i took it off. i couldn't be haunted by happy memories anymore, not when i was living in hell and getting through the heartbreak that it was leaving him. "please keep it."

"i can't keep it minho, you've spent a lot of money on it." i responded and looked him in the eye. the broken man that was sitting there was supposed to be my one and only. it's too bad that time showed us that we could be destroyed so easily time after time.

"can i kiss you one last time?" he asked as he held the ring tightly in his hand. i didn't know what to answer as i just leaned in and let go for a second. the kiss was so much deeper and passionate that i expected, the last one i thought as i tried to go through every memory in my head. the last one as i imagined us in our wedding and having the best day of our lives. the last one as everything crumbled apart and we separated, wanting more but not letting each other cross that limit.

the last time.

that was the last time i saw minho.

#sourbinnie #skz drabbles #skz drabble #skz imagines #skz short imagines #skz imagine #skz angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagine #stray kids short imagines #stray kids angst #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids #minho x reader #lee know x reader

526 notes · View notes

10underoot2 · 28 days

Text

I finally rewatched Queen of Tears Episode 16.

Its given me a lot of clarity on why I didn't like it all that much. The episode feels very filler like, reiterating what I already know, no development nothing to draw me in. So here's a list of thing I really like vs things I had beef with:

The Good:

- Hyunwoo's understanding of what marriage is is very profound and beautiful. Really appreciate that bit.

- The employees in this corporate sector have been 10/10 throughout. I cannot with how much I love them to bits. Still not over 'I just want to see the rich argue' 😭😂

- Yangi's bond with Hyunwoo is absolutely 10/10

- I like Haein trying to find the reason of their divorce. It's important for her cause why did two people who love each other want to divorce each other. But again I hate how this wasn't a main cause of comcern around epsidoe 7. Like don't brush over it fam. Don't you wanna know why the man you love and who loved you to bits wanted to divorce you?

- Those last 7-8 mins. Though I wish I had more of them. I needed a linear passing of time. Something like the Germany Montage at the start would've been perfect. But at the very end just 'Way home' playing, Hyunwoo seeing Haein as an angel to pick him up, the familiar happiness and love just spreading around them was beautiful to witness. Really got me teary eyed both times I watched it.

The Bad:

- I'm not even getting into the uselessness and bad execution of the whole Yoon Eun Sung plot line since episode 14.

- Still have no idea why Mol Soo Hee she wanted Suwan dead? Like there's no rationale? Why not kill Hae-in or SeoCheol in all those 20 years as well? It makes no sense to me.

- the episode felt so unnecessarily dramatic. I get it he got shot and was in a car accident but I was so sure he'd be okay? Did not understand or appreciate the over dramaticness also those Yangi shots in that sequence were a little tooo dramatic for me

- I don't like Haein getting back her memories cause they said the hippocampus would be destroyed. It's my fault for looking for logic in the first place but can we please stick to what we established writernim. Also wasn't this the whole problem that she's not getting back ANY memories EVER?!

- The scene between the mothers at this point was also unnecessary. We could've gotten to this realization back in the episode this was brought up the first time. She knew the location and date I don't see how reviewing her album was the light bulb moment.

- I feel super bad for this one but for me even Hae-in's bedside speech, once Hyunwoo woke up, lacked sincerity. As much as she might realize she loves him. He's still a stranger. Who does she miss? Her husband who's love she has no recollection of? The man she loved but she has no idea how she loved him? Take out the loss of memories and it would've hit me like a truck. Like she's not even holding his hand as she waits cause she recently met him. What am supposed to cry over here? What could've been? The pre ep 15 Baekhong I dearly misssed at this point?

- More on the Hyunwoo hospital scene. When he says 'I had forgotten' As sweet as it is I already knew all of it. It was so ill placed I didn't have to see it here. Also like what does she care? She doesn't remember if you forgot or not in the first place 💀

- The Yangi x Haeina acene in the hospital - what notebook are we talking about? Did I miss something? Did I fall asleep somewhere like what?! Also I feally do like Yangi but I thought all of the scenes with him were kinda forced this episode.

- The conversations where Haein tells Hyunwoo he's perfect. Is it just me or is Haein extremely expressive after the surgery? I can never imagine Haein telling Hyunwoo that he's perfect even if she think so. It was a little off putting for me being introduced to this new character in the last episode. I miss my inexpressible power girl.

- Just the voice over off what happened with Mol Soo Hee would've sufficed but I guess we had to see that SNU degree in action.

- The turn in Da hye's emotion - as sweet as it was also felt forced. They just showed me earlier she didn't care for him and bullied him. Now you want me to belive she mistook her feeling okay sureeee 🙃

- This is what meant by killing the temperment. They start Hyunwoo's monolougue 'We forgave those who we used to resent and then we cut to this long scene of Aunt Beom ja. Then we have Hyunwoo, then we have his brother's scene. The editing was off here. I wish we had a monologue of just them. It all threw me off so much.

And here's why a sequence of Baekhong was so necessary cause remember the first episode we instantly fall in love and get curious because of that lovely montage of BaekHong Germany scenes.

All in all good ending, horrible last two epsiode. Kinda left a bad taste in my mouth. It makes me long so much for the show I saw and fell in love with before. I have never felt this way about a last episode, I think I just expected better from this show.

#queen of tears #didn't change my mind at all #so much of what I said in my last post still holds #i didn't know this BaekHong #but ah well #it was a good ride #I do appreciate the good parts #baek hyun woo #baek hyunwoo #hong hae in #kim ji won #kim soo hyun #kdrama

30 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

u-leo-summer

Leo Summer

proverbs31princess

ME! MYSELF! I! All Things I L💖VE & Randomness!!👸🏼🦄

timerpower32

The Journey of Halsey 080

ghastlygoober

bowwow189

Goofy Gubler