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torhues · 1 year

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osamu miya.

"what do you think is the right way to ask someone out?" osamu's sudden question draws out your attention from your english assignment.

you take a moment to think, and while he thinks you're sorting out the most appropriate answers to his question, you're lost looking the answer to just one question that's plaguing your mind : should you tell him, or not?

"uh, who is it for?" you settle with the conclusion that he's asking that question out of curiosity. after all, you both are at an age where romance gradually becomes an integral parts of almost everyone's life.

out of all the years that you've known osamu— which is for around seven years for now— there has been only one time when you've seen him pursuing someone, and that was your best friend in middle school; and like the good friend you were, you helped the two of them confess to each other. you would walk to school and back, watching them holding hands, make plans without you because they were dating and it was understandable. you didn't mind, not at all, for you weren't in love with him at that point.

looking back now, you wonder if things would've turned out different if you hadn't helped your friend, or if you had realised your feelings a bit earlier. back then, you found it amusing to watch two people in love act like idiots, not knowing it'd all come back to you with a much larger impact.

"someone i like," he replies in his classic monotonous voice, as if he couldn't care less about not telling you who he has a crush on. it's exactly how it was back in middle school. had it not been for your friend, you wouldn't have known she was the one osamu had been planning to ask out all along. "goes to the same university as us, might even be in your biochem class,"

and your mind traces over the image of every single person in your class, crossing out the names that don't seem to fit osamu's taste in romantic partners. it's not the first time you're doing this. in fact, you've gotten used to figuring out whether he would be interested in someone just by looking at them. it's something you've learnt as you got better at hiding your feelings.

you've known him long enough to know who he might date yet still, couldn't bring yourself to believe that you could possibly have a chance with him.

"well, i can't tell you if i don't know the person," something about you makes osamu believe that you're a cupid. you're good at reading people, welcoming, albeit not so good at reaching out to strangers, but you are likeable, more than likeable, actually.

he has seen you set people up, including himself, and excluding yourself. the reason why you're not interested in pursuing someone anymore is beyond his comprehension. you have your fair share of knowledge about relationships, have dated a couple of guys before giving up altogether. it's not like your relationships didn't work, but it always seemed as if you were better off without them.

even while dating, it looks like your eyes are looking for someone else while being in someone's arms.

he sighs, putting down his phone. "just tell me what you like, people aren't much different after all,"

"uh, well, i hate public confessions and people who confess through calls and texts," which stands true for most the people out there. public confessions are more of a show off and confessing through texts is just, not enough. "also, i like to stay at home or be at some cafe so like, arcades, amusement parks and places like those aren't up to my liking either,"

you notice the smile on his face, along with the dreamy eyes and make him look prettier than he already is. frankly, the idea of osamu doing everything you like to ask someone else out hurts more than it should. you're probably not the only persons with those likes and dislikes. you know you should be happy for him and the person he likes because in the end, osamu is everything you, or anyone, could ask for.

"what about flowers? lilacs?" he asks, getting back to his phone.

"what are you doing, congratulating someone on their graduation?" his lips instantly curve into a frown, and you know in his head, he's snickering about how he is not the best when it comes to picking flowers, and that you shouldn't make fun of him for this. "i'd say tulips, they're a better gifts for first dates and confessions,"

one day, back in first year of university, osamu asked you why you don't seek relationships anymore. thinking about it now, you never gave him an absolute answer.

on some days, the answer would be academics, other days, it would be sadness looming over your shoulders after watching your ex with someone else. sometimes, you would excuse it by saying it's a waste of time and when asked when you're drunk, you'd say it's because you already have someone in mind, someone who can't be yours, no matter how much you try.

on some days, you wonder if osamu ever thinks about all the answers, or excuses, you gave to his question. there are times when the worlds makes compels you to believe that osamu likes you back, but then you realise that if he did, he wouldn't have asked out others all this time. you did drop hints regarding your feelings for him, and he failed to catch on for he for too busy looking at everyone except you.

"i wonder why you don't date anymore," the question arises again, flooding all the memories back into your head.

"i did have someone i liked, but he likes someone else," and you realise you can't lie to him anymore. "so, i gave up," osamu finds it amusing how you say those words with a smile, and he finds it despairing knowing that now, you've simply learnt to live with pain while pretending to be okay.

he shoots you a comforting smile, "i hope that wouldn't be the case for me,"

"me too," and you smile back.

he gets off your bed, picking up his jacket while offering soft apologies for the state your bed is in because of him. sometimes, you feel like there should be a warning for everyone who dates him : caution, this man doesn't know how to keep the bed clean. there are nights when you go to sleep thinking about how you're probably the only one who can keep up with this habit of his, and then wake up realising that it wasn't a problem to anyone it now so, it wouldn't be in future either.

it's like oscillating between the possibility and impossibility of him and you, caressing your little heart with false hope.

"ah, what should i say while confessing?" he shoots another question, making you snicker in annoyance.

"c'mon 'samu, you're not asking someone out for the first time,"

"just tell me,"

and you allow yourself to get lost in thoughts again. for a brief second, you consider telling him to not confess. the reason? your feelings, but again, you and him aren't meant to be together in the first place. it's just like how the saying goes— cupids must not fall in love— and you did the forbidden, knowing it would hurt you ten folds more every time you tie his threads with someone that's not you.

"i don't know, just give the flowers and ask if they'd like to go out with you or something," he chimes a faint thank you before leaving your room, and then your apartment. this time, you don't walk up to the door to see him off, neither do you wish him good luck, and surprisingly, osamu doesn't seem to notice your minute absence either.

it's fine, you tell yourself, one of you has to start getting accustomed to the other's absence. while the process has already begun for you, you hope osamu gets used to it as well. you need him to stop reaching you out for relationship advices because you don't know how long you can compose yourself before shattering once again. you try to distract yourself with essays due next month or even further, reading chapters that haven't been taught in class, reading research papers; just anything that can keep your mind off osamu.

you don't want to think about him, or what he's doing. maybe, he's buying the flowers, making preparations or calling his crush and asking them to meet him at their favourite place. even better if his crush confessed while he has been preparing a proposal of his own, it would be cinematic. you don't want to think about him at all, but the more you try, the deeper he engraves inside your mind.

the evening rolls by with you still sitting at your study desk with a bunch of papers lying around a not one complete work. there are rain splatters on your windows and you hope the off-season showers haven't ruined his confession. you can't wish for the other person to like him back, so you just wish for his happiness; whatever makes him happy, even if it means pushing him away.

and when you manage to drag yourself to the kitchen to grab something to eat and make yourself feel better, the sound of your doorbell hits your ears. the rain hits harder, you muster up the energy to walk up to the door.

there's osamu standing with a love sick smile and slightly wet hair, along with rain splatters on his shirt, and the bouquet of tulips in his hand. "will you go out with me?"

#♡ hues'.#♡ handmade.#this is not angst trust me #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #osamu fluff #osamu headcanons #osamu drabbles #osamu fic #osamu angst #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #haikyuu osamu

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sbubbyart · 21 days

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satosugu in that one scene </3 (pls do NOT reupload)

#satosugu #geto suguru #jjk #jjk fanart #jjk geto #jjk angst #angst #satoru x suguru #jujutsu suguru #jujutsu geto #gojo loves geto #this is how it happened #trust me

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arlertlx · 3 months

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next chapter

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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao)#but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

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hasello · 3 months

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Next sister (soon)

Do not ask me why this comic took me so long to finish, I don’t know either. I had such a love/hate relationship with it 💀 I did it, tho! Here’s Riri’s part for now. You have asked so many lovely questions and I still have some hope that I’ll manage to answer most of them 🙏🏻 love you guys, hope you enjoy!!

#tmnt #hamato family #cousins au #comic #april o'neil #teenage mutant ninja turtles #procreate #digital #art #once Lou woke up he took Riri back home and she had learnt what being grounded really means #also Lee was just worried #that’s how big siblings show affection #source: trust me bro #no fr trust me im a big sis #there’s angst potential there actually but one thing at a time lol #love you all guys

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lotus-pear · 2 months

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it actually pisses me off sm when there is a scene where an aggressor shoots at dazai and chuuya takes the bullet and dies trying to save him and has an elaborate death scene where he's bleeding out in dazai's arms and choking out his last words because we all fucking know man would just step in front of dazai and kick the bullets back to the shooter using gravity manipulation before saying smth snarky like "you can kys when we get back from the job."

#skk angst is always like the biggest hit or miss for me bc half the time it just doesn't even fucking make sense #i hate when theres scenes of chuuya getting gunned down or stabbed bc theoretically unless he has his guard down that would NEVER happen #like the only reason shirase was able to get him is bc chuuya trusted him #but like he isnt just gonna let some random gangster stab him. he can stop that w his ability #if anyone's taking bullets it's dazai?? bc he can't deflect them?? or stop them?? so the sacrifice is meaningful???#SIGH sorry i think i accidentely found myself on the wrong side of bsdumblr. (the skk mischaracterization side)#bsd #skk

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bebyebeeh · 7 months

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they like being alone together !!

#you will never catch me drawing black brothers angst #they deserve happines #and to trust each other #theyre besties bc i said so #i do not accept other opinions #black brothers #regulus black #sirius black #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fanart #sirius fanart #regulus fanart #reggie my baby i will draw you more i promise

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crabsnpersimmons · 19 days

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CRAB IS YOUR MOON OKAY WITH HUGS?

PLEASE THIS GUYS NEED SOME AFFECTION

LET ME JUST-

GHHHHHH-/pos

#fnaf moon #Moon New Do Same You AU #fnaf dca #dca fandom #mutual shenanigans #other people's art #crab art #traditional art #Moon likes hugs #but he's very particular about them #he prefers hugs around his shoulders or his waist #he does not like being hugged from behind #he does not like being hugged by surprise #he's a bit skittish #like a cat #you have to learn his habits #and sometimes just wait for him to come to you #you know i am up to No GoodTM when i draw extreme close ups of Moon and his back #i also don't know what possessed me to do this in watercolours #but... i'm okay with the final look #i'm just very rusty #and i remembered why the last time i painted in watercolour i went into an artblock #it really do be a “trust the process” kinda deal #also for people who saw the wip #haHA you thought this was about moon ass but it was actually MOON ANGST #MOON ANGST FRIDAY #i always post my moon angst on friday it seems

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lvlcurrent · 1 year

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lucifer: why is he in a cage?

mammon: because he growled at me

#obey me #i want nightbringer to be funny like this idc about the angst lore potential- or do i 👁#i want mammon to treat satan like some strange wild animal <- ?#it's the younger sibling way to be treated like this trust me

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opikiquu · 25 days

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i will only draw happy things because 2.1 destroyed me

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the--firevenus · 11 months

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“I am scared to lose you, when we have finally found each other.”

-Quote from my fav fanfic ever exist, and I've applied it to all my ships ever since <3

#Fear of something new and fragile #Fear of losing what we could have had #I just think there's so many angst potential for dancae and we didn't talk about it enough #venus rambling #honkai star rail #fanart #hsr dancae #dancae #hsr dan heng #hsr trailblazer #hsr caelus #dan heng x caelus #I love them so much god #Also you should read under the eyes of the moon even tho it's kpop fic its good trust me

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haespoir · 10 months

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try again: ldh.

never not, pt 2!

⨯ pairing: ex!haechan x reader

⨯ word count: 1.4k

⨯ summary: sleeping with your ex wasn't the best idea when you're too much of a coward to face him after. thankfully, haechan's anger seems to be enough courage for the both of you.

⨯ warnings: uhmmm no content warnings that i can think of... fluff n angst is all i've got.. haechan is desperate and reader gives in easily... just like me fr

⨯ playlist: try again, jaehyun / clementine, grantperez / wayo, bang yedam / universe, thuy

⨯ extra content: part one

⨯ a/n: finally... part two is here!!! i hope you guys enjoy it.. i wanted to include more angst... but i couldn't do it. feedback is always greatly appreciated 🩵

. . .

Waking up to an empty bed has Haechan livid, like absolutely enraged. No one could calm the male down, not that they even wanted to try. It was an unspoken rule to just let Haechan feel his emotions; the male felt everything so intensely that it was useless to even attempt to help.

He couldn’t believe it. If there weren’t bruises scattered along his neck, he would have believed it was some horribly fucked up dream. It was so cruel of you to leave him like this. Even if he had more than a few drinks the night before, he was honest and true in his intentions of wanting to talk. Maybe somewhere along the way the execution was messed up, but he was determined.

Which is why he gives himself time to cool off. Barging into your apartment when he was seeing red was not a wise decision, he knew that much at least. Haechan was not the same immature kid he was when you guys began dating, and he wanted to prove that to you.

He did.

He really did.

But old habits die hard.

haechan [1:05 pm]: i gave you three hours since i’ve woken up haechan [1:05 pm]: answer the damn phone haechan [1:05 pm]: you’re not getting off the hook that easily haechan [1:30 pm]: don’t leave me on read haechan [1:30 pm]: i know where you live you [1:31 pm]: is that a threat? haechan [1:32 pm]: it doesn’t have to be haechan [1:32 pm]: talk to me haechan [1:32 pm]: please you [1:36 pm]: tomorrow haechan [1:39 pm]: not a fucking chance haechan [1:40 pm]: i'm coming over you [1:50 pm]: the code is the same

You weren’t sure how you were going to prepare for this one. The walk of shame out of Haechan’s room was already enough emotional torment for the day. You weren’t ready to face him. You couldn’t think of a single excuse, and you knew Haechan was ready to eat you alive.

Before you can even stop it, the tears begin to pool. You don’t even attempt to fight it as you sit on your couch, the tears rapidly decorating your cheeks. How did you tell your first love that you were a coward? How did you tell him that you loved him so intensely it scared you? At some point during your first year of college, you had begun to spiral when every icebreaker in a class involved Haechan.

What do you like doing?

Hmm, you usually watched your boyfriend's game with his friends.

Who’s your closest friend?

Oh easy, Haechan.

Girls night?

Sorry, you were hanging out with Haechan.

Being so dependent on him was terrifying, but you knew that you couldn’t stop. So you had to cut him off; there were probably better ways to go about it, but you didn’t give it much thought.

It was so unfair to him.

You can’t even begin to fall down that rabbit hole because there’s a sudden pressure on the couch next to you. Haechan was faster than you thought; in fact, it was probably a record speed for Haechan to arrive somewhere. He was someone who enjoyed being fashionably late, anything to make a grand entrance. However, for once, he decides to enter quietly. After all, the fact that the code to your apartment was still his birthday was something that he hoped had more meaning than just being a memorable set of numbers.

“Why are you crying?” You flinch visibly at his tone. You remind yourself that you did this to yourself. Haechan had months of pent-up frustration, and you were prepared to take the entire thing.

That was a lie, by the way.

Because you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. “Do you want a snack? I bought some clementines recently.” You’re deflecting; you both know it. Without giving him a chance to even reply, you rush to the kitchenette in your studio apartment. Once you’re far enough, you steal a glance at Haechan.

Seeing him spread on your couch like that squeezed your heart in ways you could not describe. He looked like he belonged there, like there was no place in the world better than your couch in your small apartment for him to be. Even now when you feared that this would turn into a screaming match and that you both would be left with a hurting heart once again, you knew that you would always love the man who sat in your living room.

He was your universe, your everything. The fact that two years had gone by did not change the connection between you two. It was like you had never left his side; you were his perfect puzzle piece.

And you prayed, as you gathered a few clementines and a plate, that you hadn’t ruined it completely.

Once you’re seated next to him again, you allow yourself the small distraction of peeling the citrus for him. Without realizing it, you’re both sitting in silence; you’re peeling the small fruit and handing each piece to Haechan. It’s like you’ve fallen into a familiar routine. He takes each piece of fruit without much thought, savoring the tart flavor. He swears it tastes best when you’re peeling it for him, even going as far as to remove the pith for him. He always complained that the small strings were too bitter. Someone as sweet as him shouldn’t be eating it, you used to say.

Unknowingly, Haechan’s anger seems to disappear as the nostalgia creeping through his body appears. After all, he was always him when he was with you.

“Why did you do it?” His voice is small when he speaks as if eating had drained him of all the anger coursing through his veins.

“I had to. You consumed my every waking thought,” you reply, feeling the tears beginning to well up. “It’s such a shitty excuse, I know. But I should not be in my general ed classes thinking of marrying my high school sweetheart.” Your attempt at a joke is poor because it’s true. That was something you both knew; there were many nights where you two had laid in his bed, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders as you discussed married life.

But when you realized just how deep you were, you became scared. Terrified. It was so overwhelming to be in love with someone like Donghyuck. The fear of the unknown had beaten you down.

“That’s so unfair, and you know it,” he says in disbelief. So he was right last night. “I had spent so many months thinking I did something wrong; that there was something wrong with me. You made me think I was unlovable.”

Your heart breaks into a million pieces at his words. Had you done that to him? How could he even look at you right now?

“Oh, Hyuck,” you sniffled, letting his nickname slip into your vocabulary as if it had never left. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your hands are cupping his face, wiping the tears that spilled from his eyes. Your fingers smelled of citrus as you wiped his tears. At that moment, your love was an offering of your soul and sincerity, an act that spoke volumes to him. “Forgive me,” it declared, “I love you so dearly.”

“That has never been the case. I don’t think there’s a single person who hasn’t fallen in love with you at least once in their life.” You can only hope your sincerity reaches him.

“Well, there’s Renjun…” You roll your eyes at his attempt to be humorous, feeling a bit better knowing that whatever was going on in his head wasn’t bad enough for him to not crack a joke.

Without a word, Haechan is wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his head into your shoulder. “What about you?” he murmurs. “How many times have you fallen in love with me?”

You chew your lip, not fighting your instinct when your hands go to his hair. “I don’t think I could count,” you say. “I fall in love with you every day.”

“Even now?”

You hum, pressing a small kiss to the crown of his head. “Even now.”

That seems to satisfy him. Quickly, he’s pushing onto the couch, the plate of citrus quickly forgotten as he cuddles into your side. “We’ll be alright, right?” It’s a question, but you think it’s more for him than it is for you. You hum again, intertwining your fingers with his. “I want to try again.”

This time you don’t fight it. After all, you were his clementine. His inevitable lover.

#guys be honest #do u listen to the mini playlists... trust me its so worth it EHEH #nct #haechan #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct imagines #nct dream #haechan fic #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct fic #nct x reader #nct drabble #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader

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mydreamscape-library · 11 months

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my face putting miguel o’hara on the “loves hairy pussy” list:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #cw hair #he’s so hot it’s nutsssss #smut #fluff #angst #spider man across the spider verse #chubby reader #source: JUST TRUST ME #I can humble him in a very special way hehe #can someone pls write about this…🥺?

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nburkhardt · 5 months

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Here is an angsty thing with a happy ending! (Please note: this takes place BEFORE seasons 3 & 4 but after demodogs.)

Pray for the Ground to Swallow Me Whole

He’ll eventually thank her for the domino effect she caused. It’ll be the best thing to happen to him, even if it meant leaving town very premature.

But for now, his heart hurts and his eyes are burning from holding the tears back. For now he’ll stand here and listen to words that’ll haunt him, to faintly be reminded of times when he was an ignorant asshole that only cared about himself and didn’t bother thinking of his actions.

Truthfully, he sorta thought this would happen.

The only ones who actually actively engaged with him was the kids, especially Dustin and Lucas. But if he was being truly honest with himself, a nasty voice in the back of his head always told him they just liked him because he saved them. He tried not letting that get to him.

Currently though? That nasty voice is whispering and it’s not just a voice in his head anymore.

The voice just sounds a lot like Joyce Byers.

“- you did help him and I’ll always be grateful for that. Honestly. But I also remember him coming home from school and telling me about this kid, this jerk who laughed and poked fun at him,” Joyce stops to take a breather, crossing her arms and looking disappointed as if he wasn’t already used to that kind of look, “It actually makes me very uncomfortable to have you around, you have to understand that?”

He choked down a defense and sob, blinked hard before looking away with a nod. Listening to this for the last twenty minutes has broken him down faster than Nancy calling him “bullshit”.

“Yes, Mrs. Byers, I’ll-I’ll leave your family alone”

She nodded, “I’d appreciate that, Steve. But I’m not just talking about my family”

He’s hit with ice and dread. Freezes up and looks back at her, “wha-what do you mean? I’m sorry, I’m confused”

“I don’t think it’s really appropriate for you to be around Will and his friends. With my knowledge of what Jon told me about you and the fact you are five years older than them. It would make a lot of their parents uncomfortable too. Don’t you know that?” She’s speaking softly now, like she’s talking to a scared animal.

And maybe she is, he feels like it.

He shakes his head, not to her though. To himself, shaking the memories of hang outs with the Henderson family. Memories of Claudia Henderson making extra food- “just in case, dear! You can even have leftovers for tomorrow!” And Dustin biking over just to tell him about the newest movie he wants to see- “we absolutely have to go, Steve! It’s gonna be a classic, trust me!”

The memory of Claudia hugging him close, telling him “such a blessing, sweetie! You’ll always be welcomed here” that still makes him cry late at night in his empty quiet home.

He avoids looking at Joyce, trying to figure out a way to get away.

“I- uh, I gotta, if you’ll excuse me” he mumbles and doesn’t smile or even look directly at her. Just moves around her to leave, as he walks out and overhears the excited voices calling for him, he ignores them and keeps his head down to avoid showing them how red his cheeks are in embarrassment and how much he’s holding back tears.

Without saying goodbye, he gets into his car and drives.

He doesn’t know how long he drives, doesn’t know where he’s going. Just driving to get away, to avoid listening to Joyce’s words that are already taunting him in his head. Slowly mixing in with “you’re bullshit” and “run away, Steve, always running away!” and all the disappointed sighs and taunts from his father.

The car picks the location for him, gas running low and he’s forced to stop at Lovers Lake. Pulling to a stop and turning his car off, he sits in silence. Staring ahead at the lake, eyes still burning.

It’s a long time as he just sits there. In silence.

Rubbing his eyes to get the tears to go away, there’s no reason to cry. She is right, he was an asshole and it is inappropriate for a eighteen year old to hang around thirteen year olds.

Even more inappropriate to hang around a house where he isn’t welcomed.

He rests his head against the steering wheel, arms around it and his knuckles turning white from how hard his gripping the wheel. His eyes burn and he laughs a bitter sound, lightly hitting his head against the wheel. “Fucking, knock it off, get yourself together” he mumbles and it’s weak, he chokes back another sob as he squeezes his eyes shut.

There’s a knock on his window that makes him flinch hard, eyes are wide and he’s immediately aware of how fucking stupid he was to let his guard down like that. Looking next to him he flinches again, not because he’s scared but because of who’s standing there.

Of all the people to find him right now, during probably his lowest point ever, is the local drug dealer. The twice senior and King of the Freaks, Eddie Munson.

“Hey man, uh, you okay?”

Shaking his head, he rests it back on his headrest taking a breath before rolling the window down. Munson takes a step back, he only knows because of the chains hanging from the guy’s pants.

“All good, Munson” he lies straight through his teeth, he doesn’t need to see how red his face is with how warm it feels. And his hands actually hurt now from how hard he was gripping the wheel, “i didn’t- uh, see anything.”

Since he’s leaning his head back on the headrest with eyes closed, he doesn’t see how Munson reacts. The only noise is just nature, birds chirping and the wind hitting leaves. He doesn’t even hear Munson moving, so opening his eyes he looks over and finds the guy standing there with an odd look on his face.

“Look, I’ll just- fuck,” he knocks his head back before rolling the window up and turning his car off, climbing out and avoiding looking directly at the guy. “I’m gonna just go”

Doesn’t bother waiting for something back, it’s been long enough in his own pity party. Now, he just needs to walk home and figure out how he’ll go about life without seeing the Henderson family and the rest of the kids.

“Are you walking? What the fuck, just leaving your car here?” Munson shouts out at him.

He glances back at his car then at Munson, slowing to a stop. “Why do you care?”

It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, why would this guy care whether he leaves his car here? It’s only Hawkins, no one is going to steal his car. You’re more likely gonna come across a monster around than a stolen car.

Especially not at Lover’s Lake. Also why care about him? He’s an asshole and everything Munson hates and loudly announces at lunch.

He shakes his head and starts walking again, taking the silence that Munson doesn’t actually care about him. It doesn’t hurt to admit another person doesn’t like him, he honestly would be shocked if someone did like him.

What really hurts is the fake worry, the questioning, the fake concern and the curiosity.

He’s going to continue to walk home that’ll take him a few hours and will only make it back by dark. Without a weapon, without the bat to hold, because he left that in his car and Munson is still here. Can’t let him ask anymore questions.

“-sus Christ! Jesus, slow the fuck down Harrington!” Munson sounds out of breath, a lot closer too.

He flinches when a hand lands on his arm, “What? What do you want?” He turns and shakes the hand off, “if someone steals it, whatever. It- it doesn’t matter.”

Munson squints at him, looking confused, “Dude, wait, why are you crying?”

Touching his face, he laughs and it sounds so wrong. He is crying, didn’t even realize it was happening. Shaking his head, he turns around and doesn’t bother answering.

“Come on, Harrington!” Munson grabs hold of his shoulder and his grip is rough, “look, I’m sorry if you want to be alone but fuck, dude, you look like shit and crying alone is the worst. So, why don’t I give you a ride to whoe-“

Shaking his head, “like I have anyone to run to right now”

There’s a flash of Claudia and Dustin Henderson in his head and he wants, thinks that they’d shake him and hug him tight if they knew what was said and how it’s haunting him already. Won’t go away, it just brings more tears.

Munson’s silent and his hand drops, leaving behind a faint pressure and that hurts too.

“God, I’m so pathetic right now.”

“Nah, just lonely it seems”

His eyes snap to Munson and his hands are shoved into his jacket, kicking his foot before looking back at him, “I won’t judge, seriously. Let me help, even if it’s just to give you a ride”

“Just a ride?”

Munson nods, “just a ride, unless you change your mind”

He nods, taking a deep breath before stepping towards Munson, “okay, you can, um. Take me home?”

A smile spreads across Munson’s face and he takes his hands out to swing them towards where his van most likely is, “your chariot awaits, good sir!”

Despite his mood and how this might possibly be one of the worst days of his life, he cracks a tiny smile. Just enough to squeeze at his heart, actually.

Walking along side Munson is quiet, it’s a little peaceful. If he remembers correctly, Munson was never this quiet before. Always talking or laughing or yelling, he’s loud and sometimes overly obnoxious.

This is nice. Actually really nice, this quiet with him.

They make it to the van and the ride isn’t the same quiet but it’s still there. He can feel it deep in his bones now.

That this, right here, is peaceful.

Hello! This whole thing originally started back in May and I lost a little interest in this particular WIP, so I stopped and it’s been in my drafts since. Then I kept getting writers block, still have it tbh. But I read it back today and decided I can technically turn this into a two part fic instead of a one shot soo, it’s finally being shared!

I want to be clear that it’s an AU from after the demodogs and everything after that won’t be the same. And that I have nothing against Joyce but I thought “what if it was someone else than made Steve leave/didn’t like Steve?” guess who I picked 😇 plus we have enough Hopper & Joyce adopt Steve fics, we need a little more of them not doing that. Also!! There should be more fics of them being wrong, that they’re being judgmental and need consequences for their words & actions.

Anyway! I’m automatically assuming only a few people will read this far into my rambling. And if you did I love you, you get a platonic forehead kiss ☺️

Permanent Taglist: @spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @strangersteddierthings

#steve harrington #eddie munson #joyce byers #stranger things #pre steddie #steve needs a hug #fic #nburkhardt writes #steve harrington fic #angst #hurt and no comfort #sorry but it’s just not there rn #eventually this boy will get it #and trust there WILL be steddie #maybe I’ll write the second part in Claudia’s pov 🤔#pray for the ground to shallow me whole

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 25 days

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mer!danny and newlyturnedmer!damian have to swim from Amity Island on the west to Gotham on the east coast, all the while evading hordes of pursuers

And boy is it going to be difficult as fuck.

Danny thought he was handling everything just fine. No drownings in his long six-month career as Phantom, and suddenly when he's finally getting it together, guess which rich ass himbo and his spoilt rich son came to ruin everything.

And now as Danny leans over Damian Wayne's cold lips and still chest, his own body heaving heaving and out of breath from what feels like hours of CPR, Danny's got no choice but to bite the bullet.

He just hopes they can both get back home without ending up on the dissection table.

credit to @hermit-scribe-vibe, @brekitten and @bucketorandomness

more detalles below!

They can't swim back to Amity, because by this point it's infested with patrol baots from the GiW, who have convinced Bruce to let them have free reign in the search to rescue his son (bruce is investigating the hell out of them in the meantime) They can't phone bruce or danny's friends because phones dont work underwater, and this is early in danny's career, so team phantom don't have as much tech as they would normally have

They can't just swipe a phone from a tourist from wherever (the image of Damian rising from below like a horror movie monster, the feral child, is hilarious tho) because Damian's vocal cords have been irrevocably altered and he can only speak in clikcs and trills now ^^ (Danny isn't affected as much because he's a teenager and more developed, thus can speak english in mer form)

And they are constnatly being chased by the GiW, atlanteans, and other villains along the way :D Some ideas for how they get there: A: They swim through the Panama fucking Canal and somehow don't get caught and/or skewered B: They go south into South America, potentially through the Magellan Straight or wrapping around the southern tip, or you could even have Danny turn human, pick Damian up and they continue their journey through the Amazon

C: They go north into the NorthWest Passage, which is insanely dangerous, cold and sparse of (vegetarian) food, but it's much more fificult for their pursuers too D: THEY SWIM WEST AND GO ACROSS THE FUCKING WORLD BABY!!!

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the-cookie-of-doom · 2 months

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“Rise and shine, P’Kim!”

Kim reluctantly opened his eyes to a kind face smiling down at him, looking much too bright and chipper for the early hour.

“It is six o’clock in the morning. I’ve just finished breakfast—fried eggs and rice, with coffee. Cream, no sugar, and cinnamon syrup. You have a radio appearance in two hours, at eight o’clock, which leaves approximately forty-five minutes for you to get ready.”

“Thank you, Chay,” Kim groaned, rolling over and tugging the blanket over his head. The android had pulled open the curtains, and it was late enough into spring that the sunlight streamed in unmercifully. “Now go away.”

“Yes, P’Kim,” came the responding chirp, followed by Chay’s gentle footsteps as he vacated the room.

After another ten minutes the android returned, brandishing a cup of coffee, refusing to leave until Kim sat up in bed and accepted it. He sullenly sipped it, sighing at the taste. If there was one benefit to having Chay around—there were many, but Kim wasn’t feeling very charitable just yet—it was his consistency. He made Kim’s coffee perfect every single time.

Chay stood beside the bed, his hands clasped in front of himself, watching Kim in that eerie way of his. Kim still wasn’t used to it yet. It unnerved him, Chay’s constant attention, although it shouldn’t; Kim was used to far worse in his line of work. At least Chay never leered. His expression was always soft and friendly, warm no matter what, regardless of Kim’s own attitude.

Maybe that was it. Chay never reacted to him. Not even when Kim tried to shake that unflappable kindness with pointless commands or snappy comments.

“You have thirty minutes before you have to leave, P’Kim.”

He sighed.

“You know, before you, I could sleep in a lot more.” Especially when it came to radio shows, where Kim didn’t have to worry about a stylist or makeup. He could stay in bed until the very last minute, throw on a simple outfit, and arrive with minutes to spare. He rarely took the time for breakfast, helping himself to whatever snacks were provided by whatever event he was attending if he got hungry.

Chay only smiled.

“You would sleep more if you went to bed earlier, P’Kim,” Chay sweetly responded. Kim glared up at the android from behind his hair, falling soft and unstyled across his eyes. “Breakfast is getting cold.”

“I’m coming.”

Forced out of the comfort of his bed, Kim followed Chay into the kitchen, where the android finished cleaning up the mess from breakfast while Kim ate said breakfast. He laughed a little bit at the smiley face drizzled onto his egg.

“Is it to your satisfaction?”

“Yes,” Kim said, making Chay beam at him. Another odd little quirk of his; Chay was always so expressive. Every little thing seemed to fill him with pleasure. He would smile and laugh and wiggle, would bounce in place when he was excited, or flutter his hands through the air while he talked. More animated than Kim in many ways. Kim wondered if it was normal. More than once, he’d been tempted to find someone to ask, but one thing always stopped him: he didn’t want anyone else to know.

Androids were not… uncommon. They were exclusive, though. Personal ownership was difficult to obtain; Kim had gone through great lengths to acquire Chay from a private collector, even more so to conceal his identity while he did.

Companion androids like Chay were by far the most commonly available to the average consumer. While they were expensive to purchase, they were much cheaper to rent from any number of… establishments throughout the city.

Androids were hardy, relatively cheap to maintain—regular living expenses could be avoided—and easy to repair, making them an excellent investment for prostitution. They didn’t have to be paid, either, meaning the entirety of the profits went to the brothel owners. Of course, licensing fees were a consideration. Brothels could be fined if the conditions weren’t proven safe for clients. There have been plenty of news stories about gruesome injuries from malfunctioning androids.

The movement towards android sex work was a complex one. Some people advocated it; who cared if a client wanted to rough up one of them? They weren’t real people, they couldn’t be hurt. They couldn’t carry disease, either, and with HIV rates on the rise, that had been one of the driving arguments behind legalizing android-based brothels. No listened to the few sex workers brave enough to speak out about losing their livelihoods to the machines, and the authorities rarely looked too closely during their inspections. Certainly not close enough to determine machine from human in every single case.

Androids filled other roles, as well. They started with the police force, little more than sentient shields. Then some government officials began buying them up, adding them to their bodyguard roster. Then celebrities joined in as well, when having an android at their heel became the fashionable taboo. Fifty years later, there were over a dozen major manufacturers across Asia alone, and dozens more operating out of shady warehouses, pumping out subpar products—often salvaged and repurposed from the name brands—at a steep markup.

Kim didn’t know where Chay came from. Honestly, he didn’t really care, not enough to chase down his origins. He certainly hadn’t come with any official registration papers. In fact his legal status was in a gray area at best; one of the many reasons Kim kept Chay safely hidden away in his condo, and didn’t let anyone know of his existence.

Even still, regardless of his unknown origins, there was no doubt as to his purpose. Kim watched Chay move through the kitchen, cleaning and putting away the dishes, wiping down the counters. A perfect companion, programmed to serve Kim’s every whim. His previous owner, a salacious high-end collector with an entire room full of bodies, displayed in glass cases when they weren’t in use—Chay being one of them—spared no detail in explaining the full range of Chay’s capabilities.

Kim hadn’t fucked Chay. He had no intention to, either, he wasn’t—he didn’t want Chay for that. He wasn’t one of those kinds of perverts that couldn’t connect with another human, leaving companion androids—sex bots—as their only option. He wasn’t some kind of degenerate with desires that no sane human could safely or willingly fulfill. He just…

He was just lonely.

Honestly, it would probably be less humiliating if he did want Chay for the sex, and not because he was so dysfunctional, he was incapable of letting another person close to him. But that was the truth. That he was too mistrustful—too broken—for any kind of intimacy, yet he still craved it, desired to be close to someone, anyone, until he was driven to a blackmarket collector offering the finest piece of his collection, in exchange for a truly exorbitant price.

Kim hadn’t even tried to negotiate. He’d taken one look at Chay’s sweet face, his round cheeks, the soft curls falling over his closed eyes as he lay dormant, and knew he would do anything to have him. Two weeks later Kim hadn’t regretted the decision once.

“P’Kim, it’s almost time for you to leave. You have ten minutes before you’re late.”

Well, most of the time Kim didn’t regret it, anyway. Sometimes Chay could be even more annoying than his manager.

“I’m going.”

“Don’t forget about your photoshoot after! Or your meeting after that.”

Fuck. He had forgotten.

“Which meeting?”

“Contract negotiations with Vogue Thailand,” Chay dutifully responded, his voice following Kim into his bedroom, where he hastily dressed.

#cookie writes #kimchay #im not super satisfied with this #im brain fried #but here #android au lol #kim is a sadboy #chay is a ball of sunshine #and i promise nothing angsty happens trust me i only write happy things and no angst ever <3

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