#>____< why can’t my brain just function normally

[entropys]

1 i have an appointment tomorrow very early in the morning and im such a mess that idk what i’ll tell my dermatologist when she sees me looking like this bc i’ve been ignoring the meds she gave me it’s embarrassing 2 i cannot concentrate on anything it makes want to cry for a whole week 3 even tho im very very exhausted and haven’t been eating well for the past idk how many weeks i still cannot get myself to do anything other than be anxious over the work i should be doing 4 my room is not even walkable rn bc i brought my winter clothes down and i don’t have any time to organize them in the closet 5 i am going crazy goodnight

[euphoricfilter]

that epic relatable moment when you give your opinion in class about the film you watched and now you regret speaking because what if your opinion was bad even though that’s subjective and everyone probably hates you and thinks your dumb because you just have silly brain and will never be able to fully articulate your thoughts into words so they will never understand the whole point you were getting at

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

it’s not fair that so much of my memory and cognitive function is tied up in something I cannot control or reasonably prevent

[lezavenue22]

Just weeks ago I was elated to feel like I could never see myself wanting to end it all like I used too…

Devastated to feel like it’s an actual physical fight to keep me from not ending it now.

[loverssunlight]

whyyyyyyyyy am i like this

[ohburrryoureabsolutelyridiculous]

If costume design isn’t at least nominated for an Oscar I’m suing.

oh my… emperor geta 😫

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

could u pls write a fic about a plus sized reader noticing Spencer doesnt look at her alot so one morning she wears lingerie and a see through robe and she teases him until he just takes her on the couch?

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: listen, it wasn't that you didn't love the domestic life with spencer, but god, you just really missed being touched (and penelope has a solution).

— warnings: uhh this is almost 3k of pwp firstly, penelope being the best wingwoman to ever exist, lingerie, teasing, unprotected sex, couch sex, vaginal sex, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, kind of switch spencer and reader at the end, riding, heavy petting, subspace if you squint, mentions of oral sex (m and f rec), the reader is lowkey a freak (and penelope instigates it), clothed sex, the reader is dressed and spencer isn't, i held myself back from including a mommy kink, but that's the best you're getting from me, a lack of foreplay (be considerate folks), consent kink, praise kink.

— wc: 2817

⋆ a/n: HEY SO i really let this get away from me in the sense of this was meant to kind of be dom!spencer but i blinked and all of a 2k was written of sub!spencer so yikes!! but i really enjoyed writing this, it's been literally forever since i've written pwp so... here ya go!! i'm trying to be more organized with uploading because i really want to clear out my drafts before starting any new projects.

masterlist | AO3

“Pen, have you ever seen those TikToks where it’s like ‘he has a whole woman in his bed yet he’s playing World of Warcraft’ or some shit like that?” You ask the phone that’s tucked under your chin.

You’re in the middle of putting up laundry, but a feeling of unrest bubbled beneath your skin.

Penelope laughs, “And let me guess, that’s how you feel right now?” 

You sigh, looking down at the shirt that refuses to turn inside out. You throw it back in the hamper with a huff before grabbing a pair of – Spencer’s – jeans.

“I just – I’m not with Spencer for just sex, you know that, but it’s been like… forever since I’ve gotten any.” You can’t even listen to yourself talk.

“We’ve been in this like… domestic bliss stage, and while I love waking up to breakfast in bed and giggly showers, I’m horny and every time he does something so normal – something that shouldn’t even be considered sexy – I have to hold myself back from jumping his bones.” 

Penelope lets out a rather unattractive chortle, but she continues. “Listen sister, while I love the Boy Genius as much as the next person, he’s kinda dense. With all those brains, he’s rather hard-headed when it comes to romance.”

“I know, I know, and those are one of the reasons why I love him! The denseness is cute, but I’m starting to think I sabotaged myself.” You look down longingly at the MIT t-shirt. Spencer was away at the office right now, so that means whatever conversation you were having with the colorful woman on the other end was completely inappropriate.

“You know what I think?” She starts. “Oh God.” You sigh fondly. “Oh, hush! Don’t even act like my ideas aren’t good! Anyway… If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being quite the seductress myself, is that at the end of the day a man is a man, and they can be reduced down to their most primal instincts.”

“What are you saying?” You inquire curiously with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m saying that you gotta work with what ya mama gave ya! Men are dumb, they see a tit or a nice ass and they lose all cognitive function. So what I’m saying is to put on some lingerie and act like a little minx! Guys love it when you tease them and act like you don’t know what you’re doing! It’s about the chase, my fellow curvaceous protege.”

“So you’re saying to… seduce him?”  

“That’s exactly what I’m saying – Oh! Good morning sir! Yes, sorry, I’ll call you back when I’ve got the answer to what you need… yes okay bye-bye!” And with that, you’re left listening to the silence. 

You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation before taking a seat on the bed.

Seduce him, huh? The notion almost seems ridiculous, but it really isn’t that far fetched. You’ve had sex with Spencer before, you know how his brain works, what gets him needy and what parts of you turn him on. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

You don’t really own any lingerie, because for one, the material that’s supposedly the back of your underwear gets swallowed by your ass, and two, Spencer’s never complained about your granny panties. But hey, it doesn’t hurt to look right?

Okay, seduce Spencer Reid is a go.

Taking one last scrutinizing look in the bathroom mirror, you leave quietly, walking into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of coffee. Liquid courage as they say.

The light pink sheer robe hangs off of your ample form, the fuzz on the edge of your sleeves getting in your way and irritating you. God, if this doesn’t work, a woman by the name of Penelope Garcia is going to find herself six feet underground.

Spencer sat on the couch slipping his feet into a pair of mismatched socks – you’ve stopped trying to organize them a while ago – tucking them into his converse. He’s off today, probably having plans with the bookstore and the park before offering to make the both of you dinner. It’s endearing to say the least, but food is not something you're hungry for.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” You ask before taking a sip of your coffee. He hasn’t looked up, but you’re facing him now, your scantily clad body exposed by the thin satin of your white bra and underwear. A devil in disguise (you hope).

“Hmm, I was thinking about playing chess in the park for an hour or two before going to the bookstore. A new novel about quantum physics just came out, and even though it’ll probably be about stuff I already know, I’m always willing to look at it from a different perspec…” Spencer finally looked up, his sentence slurring a bit. “...tive.”

“Ah! That sounds exciting! I’ll text you what I want for dinner later if that’s okay? Or would you rather I go shopping with you?”

He blinks, his mouth hanging open intelligently, as though he’s still trying to process exactly what he’s seeing. “Yes. I mean no - I mean… I… what are you wearing?”

You spare a lazy look down, as though you had forgotten you even had the thing on.

“Oh this? It’s just really hot in the apartment today. So make sure you bring some sunscreen and a fan, yeah? Don’t want you getting a sunburn or having a heat stroke.”

“I - I’ve never seen that set before, is it new?” He stammers. You click your tongue as if you genuinely had to date the outfit back, when in reality the tags to the set itself sits pretty in the bathroom trash can. “I have no idea honestly, it looked comfortable though, so I just slipped it on. You don’t mind, right?”

“I… no. I don’t.”

You beam at him, “Perfect. Oh! Let me make you some coffee before you go, I know how hard it is for you to start your day without it.” 

You turn back around, and you could hear Spencer fruitlessly swallow a gasp. The back of your underwear might as well have been a piece of string, because your ass cheeks were basically eating the material. It was uncomfortable, but oh well, beauty is pain.

You smirk in victory, pulling out a medium sized thermos and pouring the rest of the liquid in it.

You didn’t hear him move, let alone walk behind you, but two large hands placed themselves respectively on your hips, the man tucking his face in the side of your neck. You shiver at the hot blow of air that escapes through his nose, and his grip on your skin turns a little tighter.

“What are you doing?” The question is mumbled, but you don’t miss it. “What does it look like? I’m making you coffee, silly.” He huffs. “No. I mean what are you doing to me?”

He presses forward, pushing his half hard cock between your cheeks. It was your turn to gasp, and you couldn’t help but put down the pot of coffee, pushing the now full thermos away to avoid any future hazards. 

You hold on to the edge of the counter, tilting your head further to the side to give the needy man more access. He takes the hint, peppering sweet, heated kisses on the sensitive skin of your throat. You shiver once more, sighing out a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You know lying is useless, especially with the way your voice sounded so breathless. “You know you’re a terrible liar.” It was a playful dig, and his palms had begun to move, pushing on your full stomach to put more of your weight on him.

“Hm, but you don’t know every single thing I have in the closet, now do you?” You remark, yelping when he nipped at your earlobe. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong and you know it.” You do. “Do I?”

“This is terrible foreplay.” He jokes and you giggle. “I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?” You push your hips back and add a bit of friction onto his cock. He groans and you feel your pussy pulse.

“You always do a good job.” Spencer murmurs.

You’re turned around so you can face him, and you wish you could take a picture to savor the look on his face. He’s beet red, cheeks and ears flushed a beautiful hue that leaves a twinge of pride pooling in your stomach.

He cups your face, drawing you in for a long awaited kiss. 

You sigh into him, hands twisting at the sleeves of his cardigan to pull him closer. He lets you in exchange of pushing you against the counter until your lower back is digging uncomfortably into the marble.

“Where do you wanna go?” He finally breathes. You stare at him as if you were in a daze before processing his question with a blink. “Couch?” You ask. “Whatever you want.” He says before joining your lips together once more.

He walks the both of you backwards slowly, and he takes advantage of when your mouth parts in a moan as he flicks his tongue against the top of your lip. He tastes like toothpaste and you might be a little crazy to think that it makes him way sexier than it should.

Your eyes flutter open and you push him away with hands on his chest gently.

“Do you trust me?” You gasp.

“Of course.”

“Good.” You say with a smirk.

You make sure he’s close enough to the edge of the couch when you push him on it, quickly clambering onto his lap and settling your hands on his shoulders; his fall naturally to your waist and you grin.

“Hi.” You whisper quietly. “Hey.” He responds back just as hushed. “You can grab my ass, you know.” You tease and his eyes widen just slightly. “I…” You guide his palms to hold the meat of your ass and he grips.

“God.” It tumbles from his lips in a whimper and you fucking melt. 

“Sorry I’ve been such a tease today, Spencie.” You say sweetly with a fake pout. “I just needed you so bad and you’ve been so, so sweet to me, my sweet boy. I didn’t want to ruin it by asking you to fuck me stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined it.” He corrects with a whine. You had begun to grind down on him and he gripped you tightly, helping you rut against him. “No?” You question. He shakes his head quickly, his hair bouncing along with the swings.

“No. ‘Would’ve done anything you asked.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“So, if I asked you to let me suck your dick until I’ve sucked the soul out of you, would you have let me? How about if I asked you to eat my pussy for breakfast, huh? Would you have done it?”

“Yes, yes, God yes! I want to… I wanna do all those things so badly.” He groans, all but pawing at you now. 

“I bet you do,” You coo. “I guess I haven’t been the only one pent up. But that’s okay, because I’ve got you, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss before traveling downwards to his belt and wrangling it open. You popped open the buttons of his jeans, sliding back so you can tug them down his legs. 

“Up.” You command softly and he obliges. 

You’re faced with his hardened cock bulging from under his black underwear.

“Oh… is this for me?” You know you’re being mean when you drag your fingertips over the spot where precum has begun to pool, only putting slight pressure on it just to hear that sweet sound of his breath hitching.

“Yes – it’s all for you.” Spencer whines and throws his head back against the couch. “All for me? My goodness…” You trail off as you drag his underwear down his thighs. His cock springs up and bobbles against his clothed stomach.

“Can I –” He licks his lips, “Can I take my shirt off?”

“Of course, my love.” You were just about to ask him anyway.

As he rids himself of his top you get up for a split second to take his pants and underwear off fully. As you go to undress yourself, he stops you.

“W— wait… keep it on please.” 

“Oh? You wanna be nasty and pull my panties to the side, huh? Dirty dirty boy.” You tisk, but in reality you feel like you’re about to explode. “Is that okay?” You smile at his question. “More than okay.”

You climb back on top of him, doing exactly what you said and pulling the white satin to the side before gripping his dick, lining it up to your entrance. He holds you steady looking up at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes as you sink down.

The stretch stings because of the lack of foreplay, but you can’t find it within yourself to care as the pain shoots up your lower back and is already fraying at your pleasure filled nerves. 

“So… so good. God.” Spencer chokes. 

Your lips are rolled between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You heave out a breath when he sinks down to the hilt, and he just rubs soothing circles on your hips. The feeling helps to guide you as you loosen up, and when you do, you give him an experimental clench.

He groans of course and you smirk lazily.

“‘Gonna ride you now, ‘kay?” You murmur as you lift your hips up before slamming down. Spencer practically shouts when he re-enters you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He’s a whimpering, cursing mess. “That feels good, baby?” You ask as you bounce. Spencer nods and fondness twists in your chest.

“You’re so tight. I think ‘m gonna pass out.” He says dramatically. You laugh, grabbing his hands and slipping them under your bra so they can cover your breasts. “Well, don’t pass out until we’ve cum, alright?”

He gives your breasts a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.” He huffs and you giggle again. The giggles die out though when you shift and his tip prods just right.

“Oh shit.” You curse but remain in the same place.

You ride him in abandon, the sound of skin meeting skin radiating out into the early morning air of the apartment. The sound is nasty and wet and it causes your head to swim. The buzz of mind numbing pleasure swims around in your gut, and you can almost grasp it.

“Spence I – I need more, can you…?” You moan out, your head tilting back. “Yeah, yeah, I got you, sweetheart.”

One hand leaves to rub furiously at your clit and your hips cant forward, sending you landing on his naked, sweat slicked chest. Your thighs burn and you rest for a moment, but Spencer doesn’t seem to match the same sentiment, because the other hand holds you by your hip in a grip that’s almost bruising. 

The fat is spilling through his fingers but he uses it as leverage as he now fucks up into you. You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck and tucking his face into yours. You mark him mindlessly, body trembling as you near your orgasm.

You can feel him twitch inside of you when he sets a pace, bringing you up and down in a way that indicates he’s nearing an end of his own.

“Together, okay?” You cry out, “‘Wanna cum together.”

“Okay, honey, okay.” 

He sets his feet on the floor and rubs harder at your sensitive bud, and the arousal that implodes inside of you is so blinding that you white out for a minute. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed, and you can hear him mewling into your ear before warmth paints your womb.

It’s silent in the apartment for a moment before you speak.

“I have to tell you a secret.” You whisper mindlessly, laying your cheek on a bony shoulder. “And what’s that?” He runs his fingers up and down your spine.

“This set is new.”

“I know honey, I saw the charge on my card.”

“What?!” You exclaim, pulling away from his body to search his hazy eyes with your wide ones.

“You forget I can see the bank statements.” Spencer says with a smile. “No, no. I – I didn’t mean to use your card.”

“You didn’t have to… I may have uh… may have slipped one into your wallet when you weren’t looking.” He admits sheepishly. You stare at a moment and then smile incredulously. “Did you… secretly sugar daddy me?”

“Oh God, please don’t call it that.” He says with a groan, leaning forward to bury his face in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever sugar daddy.” You tease, running your fingers through his sweaty locks.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[chibelial]

I didn’t turn on a comedy to be called tf out, Dennis

[starseungs]

take a shot. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — it really shouldn't take a genius to figure out that you and your co-star didn't get along. you knew kim seungmin. you knew how life functioned despite the cameras. and you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

genre/s — drama, angst, fluff, a sprinkle of comedy, actors au, enemies to lovers, slowburn • 19.4k words

warning/s — y/n gets referred to with she/her pronouns, profanity, implied death taken lightly (humor purposes), miscommunication to too much communication, y/n easily gets into a bad headspace, inaccurate depictions of filming a movie, the angst is strong = the fluff is strong, other idols are mentioned as characters along with skz members, mentions of alcohol in a scene

note — my longest fic yet !! it also took me so long to finish this (like three weeks i believe) and there were some struggles that happened in the making of this, but it turned out to be my most favorite work ive done ever. thank you for the people who patiently waited for this since the teaser, and remember that reblogs & feedbacks are greatly appreciated 🫶 i hope you enjoy the read !!

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

00 : ZERO.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The car remained silent despite your words of confusion. You felt as though your world had come to an extreme halt, giving you a whiplash as the buzz of the road outside continued to pierce through your ears. There was nothing else to keep your mind away from the absolute bomb of news that was just given to you; your manager had turned it down before uttering the horrid sentence that brought your untimely demise.

The car may have kept on with its task of moving forward—but you were stuck frozen in place.

“You’re joking.”

Your world fell on seemingly deaf ears. The man up front, steering the wheel, rendered himself mute to your growing distress, finding the busy traffic of city life interesting enough to keep his eyes glued. But the urban chaos didn’t distract you one bit from brewing a storm of gunpowder inside your throat.

And just like that, a ghost of a click was heard.

“No—please tell me you’re joking,” you voiced out, tone betraying your attempts at keeping things respectful. It soon came to your attention that the effort was of no use, as your manager still chose to keep his peace. “Changbin!”

The car swiveled a bit off-lane for a second before returning to its correct course. Normally, such an abrupt action by a vehicle would concern you, as you would argue that you were still much too young to suffer at the hands of a road accident, but no such thoughts even made their way into your brain. Just like how time had stopped for you, there was no time for debating over survival either. One life-or-death situation was already enough for you.

You wanted answers, and you were going to get them.

Changbin exhaled audibly from the scare he just put both of you through. His hands shook with a slight tremor, and that was all it took for him to decide that pulling over to the nearest parking area was for the best.

“Don’t yell in the car like that!” You scoffed at his scolding, finding the whole situation ironic.

“Oh, so you can do it all the time, but I can’t?” You shot back. Changbin sighed tiredly, finally registering the extent of your agitation. "Plus, I have a perfectly good reason why I’m yelling!”

“Listen, Y/N, it’s really not that bad—”

“Yes, it is that bad!” The words spill out of your mouth in utter disbelief at his attempts at assurance. “I’m working with Kim Seungmin, of all people!”

“And that’s why it’d be fine!” Changbin argued, running a hand through his already tousled hair. You blinked at his reply, baffled by the sheer implication.

“—How?”

Changbin clicked his tongue at the question, finding it hard to digest just why you were so against working with the mentioned actor. With the mere sound of that actor’s name spat out of your mouth, one would think that he had somehow managed to offend your entire bloodline. But that kind of bitterness could only be achieved through a sour history, so you really couldn’t empathize with your manager’s mindset either.

Even you knew that this movie would be enormously successful from the director alone. Director Han Jisung’s influence and presence in the industry were not a laughing matter—in fact, you should already be trembling in anxiety just knowing that you snagged probably the biggest role you’d ever get in your whole career. He was only around the same age as you, but the winding list of his achievements was already one for the records. And yet, here you were rethinking your contract with him even before the project started.

Just because of who you were going to be acting alongside with.

“Seungmin is a nice person,” Changbin explained gently like he was coaxing a child, intentionally ignoring the way your face scrunched up at what he said. “I did my research, ok? Everyone only has high praises for him, both on and off-set. Isn’t that enough to be trusted?”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from digging a deeper hole to lie in. The answer was no—it wasn’t enough to be trusted. Now, at this point, someone would’ve had half a mind to ask why you were so sure about your vendetta against the man. If a person was so well loved in a world where cameras were pointed at them in every waking minute, then shouldn’t all the dirt be found by now, if there was any?

To that, your answer would be yet another no.

Because you knew Kim Seungmin. You knew how life functioned despite the cameras. And you knew that it was harder to keep a good shot hidden than it was to delete a bad one.

“Turn the car around.”

Changbin’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets at your demand. Surely, he had heard you now. You crossed your arms and leaned back to rest comfortably on the car seat, turning your head to face the window and glare at the world outside, continuing on with their lives like a well-followed routine.

“Y/N, this is a big opportunity—”

“I said, turn the car around. I’m not attending this cursed table reading.” You pinched the bridge of your nose to keep the incoming migraine at bay.

“You really think I’ll willingly step into a room with the devil’s incarnate? I’d rather get shot—”

01 : ONE.

“—sensing a great shot!”

Director Han Jisung nodded positively at your performance, satisfied with your initial portrayal of the female lead.

“If we keep going like this, then I’m expecting this project to be a big hit. The casting team really did their pay’s worth on this one,” the young director hummed. “Especially you, Actor Kim Seungmin. I don’t know how they managed to get through your company's walls, but I’m glad they did. You’re perfect for the role!”

You felt your eye twitch as the figure bearing the name appeared within your vision. His mouth curled up into an arrogant smirk, hastily covered up by a bashful smile. You cringed at his actions that only you seemed to see. Why was this prick acting all humble?

“Ah, I always wanted to act in one of your films, Director Han. This is more of an amazing opportunity for me than you, honestly.”

That smoothed honey voice wrapped itself around the room’s premise, charming everyone around like it was coming from an alluring siren. All except you.

Your mouth filled with a coating of spite as his next sentence echoed through your ears. His eyes locked you in as a target, a wordless challenge shooting straight at your own.

“Plus, seeing who my co-star is, I’m quite thrilled to see the end product,” Seungmin grinned with a manic glint.

Fuck. You should’ve turned that damned car around yourself. Maybe then you’d be enjoying a relaxing time in the tub, surrounded by bubbling suds of fragrant soap, instead of being a frontliner in this mental war your acting counterpart seemed to subject yourselves to. Now, you had to withstand the feeling of your body instantly going on auto-pilot after his words.

It was commendable, really—how Seungmin could take over a space of this size filled with various types of people so easily. He had major talent in that field, which greatly accentuated his acting power. Seungmin had a way with words, and while you would never be caught praising him out loud, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the bitter truth deep inside the darkest parts of your brain. It was almost obsessive, the way your mind zeroed in on his presence. Even as you let the busy table chatter away into a buzzing noise that barely made its way coherently through your ears, your eyes stayed glued to the figure in front of you, carefully studying his mannerisms as he enthusiastically interacted with everyone. You weren’t someone who Seungmin’s charms would work on—instead, you felt like prey, waiting to be pounced on any second now.

Before you knew it, the table reading came to a close. You could faintly remember standing and packing your things quietly, more focused on the sudden stinging feeling you felt coming from your eyes, already threatening to water. “This is ridiculous,” you huffed in frustration. Why did you feel the need to cry like a child at this very moment?

“With the way your script is being shoved in that tiny bag, yeah, I would say that too.”

“Leave me alone, Kim.”

You hear him chuckle, causing your grip on your leather bag’s opening to become tighter, feeling the metal zipper bite at your palm. “There’s a lot of Kims here, Y/N. Be careful now; they might mistake you for being rude to them,” he chirps. Fucking chirps. Like a small bird who deserves to be doted on. Except the man before you was neither small nor deserved to be doted on—Kim Seungmin would never be described in any of those words in your world.

“Right. Since they’re also talking to me right now,” you scoffed back. Thankfully, that seemed to keep the tears at bay for now. You refused to break down in front of the most infuriating man in your life.

“Still stuck up as ever,” he sighs. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at his comment. You? Stuck up? If anything, that would be him! “This would be our first piece together after that charity drama our acting academy did way back a few years ago, so would it kill you to be civil?”

Ah. There it was. The infamous acting academy.

JYP Academy of Theatrics was admittedly one of the most successful acting academies in the country, known for producing many big name acts throughout its years of operation. Every aspiring actor has probably gone through the phase of wanting to be part of the academy’s carefully limited population of trainees—you included.

You remember the first time you brought up your plans on becoming an actress to your parents; their apprehensive faces telling you to try going to an acting academy first before giving up everything and running towards your dream blind. Young you didn’t realize the underlying implication that your parents were expecting you to be discouraged and give up on your thoughts of becoming an actress for good. Instead, you aimed high with the thoughts of their support, confidently applying for JYP Academy.

To your parents’ surprise, you passed both rounds of the screening, becoming a full-fledged acting academy trainee at one of the most prestigious places for it. It was also where you met the thorn in your life that was standing before you at the present.

“And frankly, I’m looking forward to this. So can we not ruin the mood on set?” He had the nerve to add. That was all you needed for your last string of restraint to snap.

“Why? So you could enjoy the power trip of watching me fumble around like a headless chicken after getting scolded a thousand times for my horrible acting skills?”

“What?”

You watched as Seungmin’s face morphed from exhaustion into a look of confusion at what you had just said. However, you knew better than to give him the benefit of the doubt—so you continued to shoot your bullets at him.

“I know you, Kim Seungmin,” you motioned towards him. “Don’t you dare think I’ve forgotten your days at the acting academy, especially that damned charity drama. But consider yourself lucky, since I won’t drag your ass down this time, Golden Boy. In fact, watch me shine on set even if it’s against your will or whatever is going on in that ego of yours, because I refuse to bow down to you. Things may have been different seven years ago, but I’ve grown since then. So if you want to prove to me that you have to, then know how to keep your mouth to yourself around me.”

After your little round of firing the pent-up rage inside of you, you snatched your bag from the table and stormed out of the room without another word. You had half the mind to worry if anyone had heard your little squabble with Seungmin, but you were already too far down the hall to go back and check, risking a blow to your conscience if ever you tried to go back. You only had the fact that you had managed to keep your voice surprisingly low throughout the whole exchange to console you.

With this, you continued your trek towards the parking lot to meet your manager once again—blissfully unaware of the state in which you left your co-star back in the room.

“What the fuck just happened?”

It took everything in Seungmin to not march after you and demand an explanation for what you had just said to him. In all honesty, Seungmin was baffled. Out of all the possible scenarios he had imagined to happen when meeting you, this was definitely not one of them. Sure, you two weren’t exactly the best of friends way back in your academy years, but he had at least considered you an acquaintance.

Even then, he didn’t remember your relationship being this bad. For all the times the both of you clashed heads, he couldn’t recall a single time serious bad blood was developed. The memory of you laughing joyfully as he messed up a line in your shared scene together on a monthly evaluation was still fresh in his memories—so just where did this hostility come from? If he were to base his conclusion off your words earlier, then it must have something to do with the charity drama, and that only made Seungmin more lost.

What you said earlier did hold some truth to them—you were scolded a lot by their advisor, slash project director, but in no way did you do badly in the production. Seungmin could testify to that. After all, he was witness to the amount of praise you got from fellow trainees as they watched you act out your scenes on camera, even though his younger counterpart was jealous of all the positive feedback. So now, he really couldn’t understand where your deep-rooted bitterness towards him came from. He even gave you some tips during the times you seemingly struggled with their advisor’s vision!

“Seungmin?”

He turned over to where his name was just called, seeing his manager approach him while bowing politely towards the small number of production staff left in the room. “Oh, did I take too long, Minho?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright. I knew you were going to catch up with a friend,” Minho looked around for a bit before continuing, “Speaking of which, did she go already?” Seungmin couldn’t stop himself from clicking his tongue at his manager’s words.

“It’s a long story.”

Well, two can play that game. If you truly knew him like you said you did, then you would know that Kim Seungmin isn’t one to give up when he sets his mind to something.

02 : TWO.

You wanted to give up right at this very moment.

Today was the first day of filming for the movie you were cast in as the female lead, yet here you were, one push away from having a mental breakdown. It was your first lead role—one that you had wished on countless stars to get ever since signing a contract with your current agency. Yet, now that you actually have it, you were left unsure of whether your acting could do proper justice to the character given to you. The confidence you flared towards Kim Seungmin a few days ago was nowhere to be found right now as anxious thoughts swirled through your head instead.

When you first read the script as one of your manager’s proposals for your next project, you instantly felt like the female lead’s role spoke to you the most. The plot itself was a masterpiece, clearly right up Director Han’s alley with its sentimental undertone and themes of self-discovery. It followed the male lead, returning back to his hometown for a high school reunion after just deciding to quit his job at a well-known corporation in the city. At the reunion, he meets the female lead, whom he remembers having the biggest crush on back in his teenage years—before he moved to the city for college.

In comparison, the female lead never left their homey countryside town. She attended the nearby community college and also settled her adult life in the same area. However, that didn’t mean that what she had achieved was all she wanted to do in life. Like everyone else, she too, had her own dreams. Unfortunately, she lacked confidence in herself to chase opportunities and got stuck right where her starting line was.

And in a way, she spoke to you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but perhaps you regret running your mouth like that at your co-star during the table read. It was a moment of weakness, you tried to tell yourself. Emotional you talked too big for what you could handle, so now you were left here to deal with the consequences of your actions.

But lies had their truths too.

It was true that you wanted to shine on set—outshining Kim Seungmin was just an added bonus to the thought. You’ve spent far too long in others’ shadows, never really feeling like you had the chance to show your fullest potential. That was something you fought for constantly, starting from your days at the academy up until the present, only to have no such luck. Maybe that was why you developed a habit of becoming pessimistic at the worst times, becoming your own enemy as you fall into a pit of self-sabotage, effectively going against everything you’ve ever wished for yourself. It was a cycle of keeping yourself confused with your own decisions, and it was a frustrating process.

You could only stare from the actors’ corner on the site as you watched the crew members run around making final arrangements for today’s shoot. Normally, you wouldn’t have seen this part of the process, as actors would often arrive later on when everything was nearly set, during their actual call time. You just intentionally went early, deciding that you weren’t going to get any more sleep even if you tried, seeing as most of the previous night was spent trying to make sure you had your lines all perfected. Sleep came rough yesterday, and you had no one else to blame but your own nerves.

At least the set looked great—today you were filming all the scenes needed for the high school reunion. The place was this quaint function hall in a small town about seven hours from the capital city, the same town you would be staying in to shoot for a little less than a week. You couldn’t help but think that maybe the new environment contributed more towards your slowly diminishing confidence, feeling yourself too far away from the strong presence of individualistic urban life. A defeated sigh was all you could do in attempt to ease yourself, even the slightest.

“I’m beginning to think this is going to become a pattern,” you hear a familiar toned voice comment. “Meeting you distressed, I mean.”

You spare the figure a half-hearted glance before rolling your eyes, forcing out an appropriate greeting. Or what was appropriate in your books, anyway.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Seungmin’s face displayed his feelings of amusement, which in turn made your frown deepen. “Not even a good afternoon? That’s harsh of you, Y/N,” he says in a tone made for mockery. “You really don’t like seeing my face, huh?”

“More like, I just don’t like you, period,” you grumbled in annoyance. “Also, why are you even here this early?”

Your surprise at his punctuality was real; you were not expecting to see him on set three hours early. But maybe you should have foreseen this behavior, seeing as the Seungmin you knew back then was also one to be on time during all lessons, activities, and practices. A part of you was then thankful for the question coming off as general because if you added any more comparisons, it would’ve seemed like you held on to too much information on him from the past.

“Just because I’m the main character doesn’t mean I should be fashionably late. Would it tick you off to know that I like being punctual with things?”

“Yeah,” was your immediate reply, not needing to think about it any further. “Since now, I have to time myself to arrive just before the call time.”

Seungmin lets out a deep sigh at your words. “You don’t want to spend any more time with me than necessary, got it.” He says, then lifting a finger up to tap against his ear. “But you know, you should really learn to keep your plans away from enemy ears.”

You tried your best not to show the inner war that just sparked inside of your head—you really shouldn’t have found that small gesture attractive, but the romantic side in you swooned so easily against your will. And for what? Kim Seungmin, of all people? You really should tone down all the enemies-to-lovers content you were consuming, because this was the last thing you wanted to happen. Real life just doesn’t play out like that.

Giving him some slack and perhaps a half-assed attempt at reverse psychology, you replied with a tired tone. “I’ll agree with you on that one, so you may walk away now, Kim.”

Except that Seungmin didn’t seem to catch the memo.

“Says the one who keeps talking,” he snarks at you. “For someone who told me to keep my mouth to myself around you, you’re the one who keeps the conversation flowing.”

You rolled your eyes for the second time since starting this conversation. At this point, you were convinced that Kim Seungmin was on a mission to dislocate it. “You just have to win everything, do you?”

“It’s my charm, I suppose.”

“And I disagree. The only charm you have is that mouth of yours you use to manipulate everyone around you.”

That seemed to snap something within Seungmin. “What the hell did I ever do to you?” He spits out furiously. “I would’ve already sued you for defamation if you acted like this around everyone else, so you should be thankful that I’m being tolerant of your attitude right now.”

“Thankful? Why would I be thankful?” Was your baffled response. “You know, I’m starting to believe that you don’t remember what you put me through all those years ago at all, and it’s only making me more upset that you seem to hold no remorse whatsoever.”

“If it’s that bad, then go ahead and tell me!” Seungmin hissed in an attempt to keep his voice down and not cause a scene. “I don’t have time for this roundabout game you have going on, and honestly, neither should you. We have a high-profile movie to film, and I would never let whatever this is ruin the hard work of a hundred people—so get your head out of your ass and either clench your teeth and save the working environment we have or be a dear and solve this issue with me right now.”

Now you were just barely containing your rage. It was at this point that you realized that Seungmin wasn’t faking anything; and that made it sting a lot more in your already scarred heart. Of course, someone like him wouldn’t understand why you were acting like this. Someone like him, born talented enough to be loved and praised by everyone, would never see the other side that you had to be dragged through—the side that existed all because of people like him, too.

“Fuck you, Kim Seungmin,” you croaked out through tears. “I knew someone like you would never understand.”

And you ran.

“What are—Y/N! Come back here!”

03 : THREE.

“Y/N, where in the world even are you? You need to come back to the actors’ tent right now!”

Changbin’s voice boomed through your phone’s speaker a lot louder than usual, causing you to jerk it away from your ear in pain. Well, you did deserve the scolding—after running off to God knows where in a relatively remote town you didn’t even know, you would be pissed as hell too if you were your manager. What kind of actress just leaves the set without a single thought like that?

“I swear, Y/N. Do not tell me you’re lost because I’m pretty sure I left you somewhere safe the last time I saw you,” you hear Changbin huff on the opposite end. “I can’t believe you told me that you were going to be fine on your own, and I actually trusted you. That’s it! I’m not letting you wander around the set anymore from this point onwards!”

You couldn’t help but find your manager’s rant funny, despite the clear threat being held above your head. “Really? I’m telling you that it’s almost call time, and you’re just laughing. Fine, go on your own soul-searching, or whatever it is you’re doing. I’m telling everyone you left your role to go play hooky—”

Oh, you could only wish. After your little squabble with Seungmin, playing hooky didn’t sound like a bad option. Sadly, you still had a conscience that weighed on you—even more hypersensitive to the people around it with your co-star’s earlier comment of ruining other people’s hard work. You hurriedly shook your head to get rid of the negative thoughts that were starting to plague your head once again, and instead focused on the group of trees that lined the path towards the entrance of the function hall.

“Changbin, I’m fine.”

“Damn right, you should be!” He screeches one last time before calming down. “But in all seriousness, you need to head over here now, or Director Han is going to chew me a new one. He knows my sister, and I don’t want to be berated for not doing my job properly by her of all people.”

You chuckled at the competitiveness in his voice. “Don’t worry, I just took a short walk for fresh air. You know how nervous I was earlier on the way to the set.” Changbin hummed in acknowledgement.

“And on the way to this town in general,” he teases. It didn’t last long, though, since he immediately followed up on your well-being with a soft tone. “Did the walk help? I can get you some hot tea too, if you want.”

“Look at you, finally being a proper manager,” you threw back at him, snickering as offended noises started to pour out of your phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take you up on that tea offer. Plus, I’m just around the corner now.”

Once you saw his figure coming into view, you hung up the call and opted to wave your right arm to catch his attention. Changbin broke out into a frantic sprint towards you the minute he saw you approaching.

“Oh, thank whatever deity there is. You need to head over to the tent right now and—” He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, holding you still at arms length to give you a look of confusion as he scanned your face. “Did you cry? Why are your eyes like that?”

Shoot. You had totally forgotten about that for a second. “Ah,” was all you could muster in a sheepish daze. “It was just to let the nerves out, you know? It’s nothing serious.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at your excuse, making you hold your breath unintentionally. It felt as though you were being picked apart, trying to find the truth that you desperately wanted to keep hidden. Eventually, the man before you decided to let it be, sending you off with an exhausted wave.

“Hm. Alright, and it’s already going away, so it must’ve just been a light session. Try to blink it out more so that it’s long gone once you step in front of the cameras.”

You silently breathed out a sigh of relief. “Will do. Thanks, Changbin.”

“Stop being a sap and head over to the tent already,” he chuckles before sending you a comforting smile. “Good luck. I’ll just be here.”

A grateful look found its way onto your face as you walked briskly towards the actors’ tent. You should really treat Changbin to dinner after all of this is over, you think to yourself, putting on your game face and entering the enclosed area with a newly steeled heart.

Now, Seungmin wasn’t the type to be overly concerned with others’ business. While he wouldn’t exactly call himself an extreme individualist, he still did have an appreciation for community. You wouldn’t catch him dead in the act of trying to mingle with someone else’s issues if it had nothing to do with him. However, all that seemed to somehow fly out the window whenever it had something to do with you.

To him, you were a person qualified enough to be considered intertwined with his own life. Sure, he hadn’t seen you in person for years, but that still would never be able to erase the fact that you knew him behind the cameras. Actually, even worse.

You knew the person he was before he even took up acting as a career.

Perhaps that was why he was so bothered by the way you were acting with him recently. He doesn’t even recall ever being that hostile to someone since his high school days, and that alone terrified him. It was like he regressed back to the days of his youth whenever he interacted with you—and that did more harm than good. The younger him was full of teen angst that he wanted to bury deep inside the confines of his past, but the animosity you seemed to harbor personally against him made him wonder if he was truly missing important information from that era of you both.

So when he saw you walk into the tent with fading redness evident in your eyes, just right after your small fight with him earlier, he instantly felt a punch in his gut. In all honesty, he wasn’t aiming to make you cry—it just so happened that the spur of the moment was so intense that he spat out things he barely meant. Sure, they still stemmed from the truth of how he felt since he did want to make amends with you, but even he wants to kick himself for the way he worded things so out of pocket. His reaction to the situation was so childish that it would be easier to think he finally went insane from the busy schedules he’s been doing than believe that what he did was a conscious decision. He was supposed to be the mature one at that moment, reaching out to fix the issue.

And yet here he was, feeling like a child in front of you.

He wanted to approach you, apologize for earlier, and maybe another one for whatever stupidity his old self did that was clearly bad enough for his mind to completely block out entirely. If you were reacting this much, it had to be at least somewhat of a traumatizing experience. Seungmin doesn’t think he ever got that bad back then, but everyone had different perspectives—and yes, young him had a tendency to be a prick. He still had friends, though, and no one ever called him in to discuss his behavior, so it wasn’t like he was a bully.

Either way, he felt the need to apologize—and maybe get an apology back, but his legs wouldn’t let him. A part of him knew that if he did approach you at the moment, you might run away again, and it was almost time for the briefing. Instead, he settled on looking at you across the pop-up room, hoping that his silent sentiment was delivered.

Which it was not. At all.

If anything, it added more pressure to whatever nerves you were holding back. Seungmin’s gaze was so piercing to the point that you didn’t even need to turn and look to know that he had his eyes locked on you. What does he want from you now? Oh, right—you two would be filming your scenes together in a matter of about an hour or two. Maybe this was Seungmin’s way of telling you to get your shit together while finally respecting your wishes to be left alone. Improvement is improvement, so you’d leave him alone to do his thing too.

“All right, is everyone here?” A lean man in his mid-twenties walked in, asking everyone inside. There was another person following him, yet seemingly younger. “It seems so. If someone you know is late, just fill them in with the details later.”

The first man lifted up a thick bind of paper, which you quickly recognized as the script. “I’m sure everyone has read their copy of this. My name is Hwang Hyunjin, and I’m the head scriptwriter for this film. Over here to my side is Yang Jeongin, my assistant. We’re here to give you a briefing on how this shoot will go for today since Director Han and Assistant Director Lee are busy with the filming crew as of the moment.”

So they were the ones behind the script. You felt your excitement levels increase as various questions about the story’s making filled your head—but you would save that for another day. Perhaps during the crew dinner after the movie’s filming was completed.

“Today, we’ll be filming one of the first scenes in the movie—the reunion. That’s why there’s a lot of you are here right now, despite the story only really having a few recurring characters. Still, whatever your role is, I hope you take this opportunity with pride. All of you here will be treated as actors for as long as you stand on this set, so have the dignity of one. Whether you have lines or not, what I expect from all of you is your best, and only your best,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang emphasized.

The briefing continued on with the necessary information for the reunion scene, with detailed clarifications and stage directions. If you weren’t locked in on all the information being fed to you, you would’ve had half the mind to acknowledge how strikingly handsome the man was upfront. A few others did, though, and you couldn’t really blame them. The guy could be an actor himself if he wanted to be.

“And I believe that’s all for now,” Head Scriptwriter Hwang clapped his hands in satisfaction. “Hair and makeup will take care of you all for about an hour and a half. I see that some of you already came prepared, so go ahead and touch up yourself if you want to. Main characters, you have your own booths,” he glances towards the stations at the end of the tent.

“You’ll be called up when needed. Actor Kim Seungmin, please get ready first since we need you for the entrance shots. That is all. Good luck.”

Head Scriptwriter Hwang bows politely to all of you before exiting the tent with Assistant Yang. With that, the battlefield begins.

You couldn’t remember much of what was happening other than you being sat down in front of a well-lit mirror and letting yourself become a doll in the hands of the make-up artists. The one assigned to your hair did start a short conversation about your previous works, to which you could only thank her shyly for her support. While you weren’t the most popular actress out there, you were still relatively well-known, with notable works under your belt. Seven years of experience wasn’t something someone could just laugh at, after all.

On the other hand, your co-star was a famous A-lister who was most likely getting paid significantly more than you for his role in this film. You glanced a bit to your right, where Kim Seungmin was happily chatting with his hair and makeup assignees, his voice effortlessly traveling its way over to your spot.

Ever the social butterfly, that one.

“Are you excited?” The woman assigned to your hair, who you learned was named Eunha, asked. You looked at her, startled by the sudden topic change. “Sorry—it’s just that you kept looking over at Actor Kim that it came to mind. He is quite the looker, isn’t he?”

“Oh.”

How should you even respond to that? It wasn’t like you could just go around advertising your personal beef with the man when, as far as you knew, he had a clean record on his plate. That would just be a lawsuit waiting to happen. You’d have to settle for something vague instead. “I guess,” you cringe at the evident pain in your voice.

“I’ve heard from others in the industry that he’s a great guy. You’ll have a blast filming this movie with him. I know it’s a bit awkward right now, but I’m sure you’ll warm up to him soon. After all, you’re both the lead roles.”

You’ll surely have a blast, alright—straight to the ego.

This conversation just gave you the unfriendly reminder that you had to act all lovey-dovey with this man, and if anything, it was triggering some unpleasant memories. By memories, you meant the charity drama from your acting academy days.

Your experience with that project was interesting, to say the least.

It had all started with Seungmin winning the prize of being the drama’s male lead after getting the top spot on the year-end evaluation for the junior level. Along with his prize came the privilege to choose who he would be acting alongside, only to surprise everyone when he chose you, a trainee who barely got recognition and wasn’t even in the top ten of your level. At first, you felt honored. It was like you were finally getting acknowledged, and by the top performer, no less. So you worked hard to do your part properly, wanting to repay Seungmin for his act of kindness; only for that kindness to turn out to be a mockery of you.

The difference in skill between you two was just too wide. Your shortcomings showed far too much, and your mistakes ended up being emphasized to the point that your level advisor became endlessly frustrated with you. First, it was the scolding. The woman clearly did not appreciate you holding back the entire production, especially since it was for a cause, so she would point out every problem in your acting, which quickly took a turn after you showed barely any improvement. Eventually, your advisor started to berate you—going as far as constantly referring to you as the reason the drama would fail. When you tried to raise the concern with her that it was affecting you negatively, she only brushed you off with a comment about how you should know to take constructive criticism this early to succeed in the actual industry.

At eighteen years old, you could only clench your teeth and accept your fate.

Things only got worse when you overheard Seungmin talking to his friends near the vending machines after practice one day—the same day they were talking about you.

“Dude, why did you choose Y/N to be the female lead?” One of Seungmin’s friends, Yeonjun, groaned aloud. “She’s awful at it. What? Do you like her or something?”

Seungmin only shrugged. “Not really,” he said, uninterested. “I just kept seeing her name during level advancements but never saw her doing anything to stand out. If she got this far, then I should give her a chance, no?” Yeonjun pursed his lips at the answer.

“That’s just cruel, man. The witch has it out for her now.”

“Then she can just do better,” Seungmin chuckles, taking a sip from his soda before continuing. “Not my problem anymore. If I do my role well enough, maybe they’ll pay less attention to whatever she’s doing.”

Beomgyu, another friend of his, scoffed. “So, like—you’re basically using her to your advantage.” You watched Seungmin wave him off without a care.

“Stop making it sound so bad like that,” he hums at the thought. “Let’s just say I’m saving her the embarrassment. Like you said, it was my fault she’s getting thrown around like this anyway,” Seungmin continues before tossing his empty can of soda in the trash.

And wow, did you feel like one after hearing that.

Starting from that point onwards, you held a dislike for Kim Seungmin. It did, however, give you enough spite to use as a driving force to do well in the charity drama—eventually climbing up to senior level right beside Seungmin, where you two clashed for the higher ranks before graduating and starting your own careers.

Despite this, the memory of the junior project still stayed ingrained in you, never really managing to fade away like you wanted it to, causing you to struggle in your quest to succeed in the industry. The deprecating thoughts came at the worst times, making you revert back to that eighteen-year-old who kept her tears at bay as the director shouted at her for the nth time.

It was particularly the worst right now.

“Cut! Bad take!”

You snapped your head towards Director Han, who looked so frustrated that he started to resemble a certain someone from the ghosts of your memories. Kim Seungmin was in front of you, his tongue poking at his cheek after hearing the comment. Right, you were at the set—shooting a scene. And you had just failed to say your next line.

“Actress Y/N, you can’t just keep forgetting your lines like this!”

04 : FOUR.

You really can’t go on forgetting your lines like this.

“Y/N.” Changbin sighs heavily. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

It would have been amazing if the gods could hear your plea. Your wish was fairly simple, after all—to be buried six feet under at the moment. To hell with being a popular actress; you wanted nothing more than to disappear right now after that stunt you just pulled. On the first day of filming, no less.

Should you just go dig your own hole instead?

“It won’t happen again,” you softly replied, like a child getting scolded by their mother.

Your manager could only take a deep inhale at your words. “And I believe you, I really do,” he says. “But I can’t just let this go like this.”

Of course, he couldn’t. You would do the same thing in his shoes. Changbin was a manager for an actress—an actress who clearly can’t even manage herself. Your job’s core had a simple description, and that was to act out your lines. Lines that you had to memorize, internalize, and perform. What was the point of having seven years of experience under your belt if you couldn’t even do the basics of your occupation?

“You have to understand, Y/N. It wasn’t just once, or twice, or heck—not even thrice! You had a minimum of five retakes per couple of lines, and that’s already concerning enough for me to have to intervene. Director Han was really disappointed today, and it’s only the first filming. The only reason you’re still coming back on set tomorrow is because, at the end of the day, we managed to get good takes despite the issues. So pray tell, is something wrong?”

The humble inn’s room you were staying in became devoid of sound from your lack of response, making the cicadas outside seem a lot louder than they actually were. Your sitting figure made you look small in front of the man before you, who was pacing across the room in distressed strides. In all honesty, you had nothing to say back to Changbin. As much as you trusted him like your own older brother, explaining your oh-so-stellar performance earlier would entail having to reveal your past with Kim Seungmin, which was the last thing on the list of secrets you wanted to get out. Thus, there was only one solution to your dilemma.

“Can we replace Kim Seungmin?”

Changbin’s jaw slacked. “What—him again?” He laughed humorlessly, completely baffled at your request. “And replace, you say? Y/N, at the rate we’re going, you’re the one in danger of getting replaced!”

Okay, you should’ve expected that. But the sting from your manager’s comment wouldn’t hurt any less, even if you did.

You were well aware of all of your shortcomings as an actress. The seven years you gained in this industry clearly taught you a lot of important lessons, but those same seven years barely did anything to your ability, no matter the amount of effort you desperately poured into your career. It felt like a futile attempt at pouring into a cup that had a big hole at the bottom—knowing you could be filled to the brim with the necessary factors to succeed exponentially, yet still letting everything go down the drain.

Maybe this was the wake up call you needed to acknowledge that you’re the only one holding yourself back. And you had the slight inkling that you knew all along where this whole mess stemmed from.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, even?” Changbin ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, then fine. I’ll respect your wishes. But you can’t expect me to understand where you’re coming from if I know nothing. Deal with how overbearing I could be, or I don’t know, just keep that in mind.”

“I understand.” You meekly nodded. “Sorry, again. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

With your vague words, Changbin eventually came to the conclusion that you weren’t going to speak about the issue today. Walking towards you, he finally accepted your decision with a light pat on the head. “You don’t have to say that to me, Y/N. Maybe to the crew tomorrow. And Actor Kim Seungmin if you want. Just promise me a better performance tomorrow, and we’ll be good.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Alright.” Your manager rolled his shoulders back, releasing the tension that built up from his pacing. “I’ll go to my own room now. Get some good rest. You need it after what happened today,” he chuckles.

“Okay, good night.”

You plastered a small smile for him, only letting it drop completely after you heard the door shut. After that, it was just you and your mind, ready to play the most depressing thoughts all through the night to beat you down once again. However, you weren’t going to fall for that today. You had already promised a better performance on filming tomorrow.

And what better ways were there to achieve both than practice until the sun rises?

Well, that surely did it’s work for you because you walked into the set the next day looking like a few years had just shaved off your lifespan. But as long as you could still function well enough to participate in the shoot, then you would consider your little sacrifice worth it.

A certain someone would beg to disagree, though.

Seungmin has never felt more concerned in his life. Just what in the world did you do all night to come out of your room looking like a literal zombie? To make matters worse, no one was even batting an eye at your less-than-ideal state! He watched you get your makeup done from across the tent with a thoughtful expression.

“Is it just me, or did Y/N get no sleep whatsoever?”

Minho cringed at Seungmin’s blunt comment. “Oh, you noticed it too?” He purses his lip, feeling uneasy. “I feel bad for her, but after the mishap from yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed up all night trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. No sleep is better than no role in this industry, after all.”

Seungmin frowned at his manager’s words. That can’t be right. Sure, as actors, getting roles to play was their bread and butter—but no project was going to be worth more than their own well-being. If your condition was bad, then how were you expecting to have the proper mindset to act well? That should be simple logic.

He huffed. “I’m going to talk to her.”

Before he could even take a step forward, a strong force had already pulled him back. “Stop right there, Seungmin.” His manager gripped his shoulder in warning. “I know you mean well, but please do not do anything to agitate Actress Y/N any further.”

Seungmin turns back in disbelief. “What are you even talking about?”

“Aren’t you two close? I know how you joke around when you’re comfortable, and I’m just letting you know that this might not be the best time to do so.”

The actor narrowed his eyes at the implication being thrown his way. “You know, you’re making me out to be a major ass right now.” Minho shrugged.

“That’s because one wrong move, and you might as well be,” he sighs. “Look, all I’m saying is that what she probably needs right now is support. Someone who would give her motivation to get through the shoot today.”

Seungmin deadpanned at his manager’s sudden advice. He wasn’t expecting Minho, of all people, to lecture him about how to properly interact with others. “Exactly?” The younger of the two raises a brow. “What else do you think I was going to do?”

Minho looked hesitant for a second. “You and I both know that you’re not exactly the most—” he trails off, making random expressive movements with his hands instead. Seungmin scoffed.

“Spit it out.”

“—Motivating. You’re probably the least motivating person here.”

Seungmin visibly blanched at Minho’s admittance. Truth be told, he wasn’t expecting the older man to say anything particularly nice, but the actual reveal was just completely out of his radar.

Even when he was young, Seungmin never struggled with making friends. He’s always been well-liked by the people around him, which has made him fairly popular amongst his peers. With such a positive response from a lot of people regarding him as a person, Seungmin was clearly gifted in the art of making friends. So now, being told that he lacked the skill of uplifting others greatly confused him. If that were true, then shouldn’t he have had the opposite experience with socializing?

“I—” He stutters, caught off guard. “Do my social skills not prove to be enough for you?”

“Those are two completely separate things,” Minho barely managed to suppress a sneer. “Seungmin, you’re great at casual talk—that’s no surprise. But you also have the tendency to be dense. And that’s putting it lightly.”

“Oh.”

That would make sense. A part of him also admitted that his younger counterpart did struggle with connecting to others. Yes, he had a lot of friends, but that didn’t mean he saw all of them equally. As harsh as that may be, the old Seungmin had this unfathomable standard for people he could call friends, which he used as a strict criteria for judging others. He still kicks himself whenever he gets reminded of how big his high horse used to be, for no reason. Seungmin was more than willing to leave that time of his life at the back of his mind to collect dust. His life has been so much better without it, and he would do anything to maintain this satisfactory present he has carved for himself.

His manager chuckled. “Who knows, though? Maybe you could finally practice your empathy with this conversation. You’ve been around professional robots for far too long.”

“That sounds like an insult,” Seungmin says, expressing his doubt.

“I’m just saying it as it is.” Minho patted his back twice. “Now, I already warned you enough. If you still want to talk to Actress Y/N, then go ahead. Just know that whatever comes out of that mouth of yours is completely your responsibility, and I will not cover for you if you come out of this one with a broken friendship.”

Seungmin let the words sink in.

“There you go, all done!” Eunha exclaims, lightly pushing your hair forward to make the volume more noticeable. You gave her a thankful smile.

Eunha was someone you'd only known for two days, but she was already becoming your favorite person on set. The way she manages to lighten your mood every time made her worthy of being on the list of people you greatly appreciated, especially with how things were going for you recently. Today too, her positivity was very welcomed.

“Thank you,” you say while admiring her work. “It looks pretty today too.”

The hairstylist beamed. “Of course it should be,” she huffs in pride. “You need to be the prettiest one here on set. After all, you’re the female lead!”

You knew she didn’t mean it to be, but her words felt like little stabs to your heart. The prickly ache spread slowly, like poison that was meant to be discrete. You chuckled to offset the pain.

“Right.”

Female lead. The character you worked so hard for—only for you to also ruin the chance with your own hands. You couldn’t help but think of how ungrateful you were being, and for what? A personal grudge towards your co-star, who was being more professional about the situation than you ever tried to be? It was almost laughable how belatedly you realized that the situation was never going to be in your favor. You weren’t someone looking to be pitied, so why were you hypocritically trying to paint yourself as the distressed damsel?

Eunha sent you a troubled glance as she fixed the tools on the table. “Are you alright? I—” She sighed. “I didn’t want to point it out earlier, but I guess my concern got the best of me. The bags under your eyes looked deep earlier—Yerin did a great job covering them up, though! You don’t worry about how you’ll look on camera, but I’m just worried about your condition.”

You sheepishly scratched your arm at being pointed out. “Sorry for worrying you. I just forgot the time last night and fell asleep late. You could say I was too excited to shoot again today.”

“Well, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

You jumped in your chair, startled by Seungmin’s voice suddenly joining the space on your side of the tent. Eunha’s eyes gave you a silent apology before bowing to Seungmin and heading out of the tent, indicating that her task was finished. Your gaze fluttered toward your co-star, who was looking at you in a disapproving manner. It was then that you remembered his comment.

“And that was rude of you to disrupt a conversation that had nothing to do with you.”

Seungmin wasn’t fazed by your bite. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

“I asked a question first, Kim.” You crossed your arms at being ignored. “Also, I did sleep.”

"No, you didn’t,” he pressed on. You could feel your blood pressure rise at his insistence. “Even a twenty-minute nap could do wonders. You just look horrible.” You scoffed at the insult.

“Gee, thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened comically, and you almost laughed at the sight. Almost. He looked so guilty of what he had just said that you felt the urge to tease him as revenge.

“Wait, no—”

“An explanation isn’t necessary,” you hummed. “Even if that wasn’t a joke, I could really care less right now.”

Your reply made Seungmin flail his hands around like a madman. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean anything about it,” he coughs out before composing himself after realizing how silly he was acting. “Sorry.”

“Ok. Thank you for apologizing.”

“Sure,” he trailed off. Seungmin was now unsure of what to even do.

Oddly enough, your heart warmed at his reaction. A part of you was thanking yourself for finally becoming more rational, as you thought that maybe he wasn’t so bad. Sure, your past together was still rocky territory, but you had to remind yourself that time had also passed. Seven years at that. That detail took you back to the conversation you two had back at the table reading. You remember the way you hissed at him that you had changed—what made you assume that he couldn’t do it too? Everyone was allowed to become better versions of themselves, and Kim Seungmin wasn’t exempted from that. He was but another person living amongst others in this world, after all.

Changbin was right. Seungmin also deserved an apology.

“I guess I also owe you an apology,” you say softly. “About how I’ve been towards you the whole time—it was immature of me. I hope we can continue to work well until the end of this project, like you said yesterday.”

“Now, this is just odd.”

Seungmin was now utterly lost. He recalls approaching you despite Minho’s warnings, deciding that he had enough self-restraint to not screw it up—only to end up insulting you without meaning to. But that wasn’t the confusing part.

It was your reaction.

In Seungmin’s experience, you weren’t one to let something go like that. Even back when you both were in your senior level days at the academy, a simple jest from him would set you off into flames. The you he knew would immediately choose to chew him out, hoping that he would get burned by a rogue ember of your fury for even just attempting to speak such words. But the person in front of him right now did none of that. The you in the present simply took the accidental insult and even apologized for the ones you’ve spat out over the previous days. It was a whiplash, to say the least—just yesterday he was still fighting to keep you in a flowing conversation. So, what was this he was witnessing?

“Is it?” You snicker. “Just think of it like winning. You were right. This is a high-profile project, and I’m over here messing around. I’ve prepared a better performance for you all to see today, so be rest assured.” Seungmin still wasn’t assured.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright—”

“Main characters on set!”

Damn. So that’s how it feels for your conversation to get interrupted by someone unrelated to it. Seungmin internally acknowledged your annoyance earlier and kicked the memory of himself from a few minutes earlier.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “What was that?” Seungmin refused to admit that he found the action cute.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s have a good shoot.”

05 : FIVE.

Okay, you do not think this was turning out to be a good shoot.

You were already regretting pulling another all-nighter the day after you got absolutely no sleep. This meant that you were already nearing 48 hours of no sleep, to which you were surprised you were still even capable of functioning. You had never gone this long without sleep, and it was both thrilling and terrifying to you at the same time.

Honestly, you were already expecting to feel lethargic after the shoot yesterday, especially after staying up the entire night to master your parts and was planning to go to sleep early to make up for it. However, after getting nothing but praise from the directors and filming crew the whole day for your stellar performance that day, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your sacrificial act was exceptionally effective. A little too effective since your manager even said that your acting became much more alive than the takes you did the previous day, despite feeling the complete opposite internally.

Now, while you normally wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was peer pressured easily, it still felt really nice for your hard work to be acknowledged after the disappointing performance you had the day before. Which also led you to your current predicament—woefully repeating the same magical process that helped you gain your reputation back.

“You’re yawning an awful lot.” Seungmin raised a brow in question. “Don’t tell me that all the praise you got yesterday already got to your head, and you suddenly find all this boring.”

An irked look made its way onto your face, pinching hard on Seungmin’s arm. You watched in satisfaction as he yelped audibly at your damage, jerking away in reflex. “What the fuck, woman?”

“It’s what you get,” you say nonchalantly while shrugging. Seungmin scoffs at the response.

“Just because we have a truce now doesn’t mean you can abuse me whenever you like,” he snarls. “What happened to the Y/N who didn’t want me to talk to her unless, quote on quote, necessary?”

You cringe at the unwelcome reminder of your previous activities. “I apologized! Would you rather have me act like a total bitch again?”

“Well—no. That Y/N was a pain to deal with.”

“Then be grateful for what you have right now.”

Seungmin lets out an amused snort, crossing his arms and leaning backwards closer towards the living room’s walls, where you two were on standby. “Oh, believe me. I’m more than grateful.”

The set right now was in a cozy cottage house, designed to imitate what the female lead’s family home would look like. You had already moved past the beginnings of the main characters’ romance yesterday and were now heading into the development stage, where they spend more time together until they realize their feelings. A domestic scene in one character’s home was a popular trope—which was, of course, also included in the movie.

If today’s shoot goes well, then you only have one day left in the filming process before everyone packs up to head back to the city. Not for Seungmin, though. The male lead still had to film the first part of the movie where he quit his job at the company. You’d have to laugh at him about it on the last day.

First, you had to get through this shoot without fainting flat on your face.

It was a particularly hot day too, which made your drowsiness even worse. The rural countryside cottage didn’t have an air conditioner set up, so you had to make do with fans all over the place. But that barely did anything to cool you down, as the air around the place itself was humid. At least you weren’t shooting out in the sun today.

“Geez, my makeup might melt even before we start filming,” you groan. “That’s if my head doesn’t explode first.”

Seungmin chuckles. “Blame your character for being a sweater enthusiast. That outfit must be torture in this weather.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. The thick baby blue cardigan you were wearing felt like a punishment to wear at the moment. It was unfortunate that you felt really cute in this get-up because you wanted to trash on it so badly.

Actually, fuck it. Comfort matters more.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” you whine dramatically. “Every scene she’s had has her wearing some kind of version of a sweater. Does she not get hot at all?” You pull on your slightly weighted cardigan.

“I do think she’s plenty hot enough.” Seungmin smirks, glancing at you while waiting for your reaction.

You hummed in agreement. “She’s probably just tolerating it since it's her clothing style. I’ve had my fair share of those moments too.”

It wasn’t something you could see since you were more preoccupied with watching the staff prepare for filming, but Seungmin’s ears were slowly turning red. He took note of how his less than savory joke completely flew over your head, now leaving him to drown in the embarrassment of his original intentions.

Internally, he was already having a boxing match with himself. He thinks she’s plenty hot enough? What does that even mean? You were the only image he had of the female lead since you had her role! Seungmin wanted the ground to suddenly swallow him whole at the implication.

You, on the other hand, were fighting a completely different battle. The combination of the heat and your severe lack of sleep was becoming dangerous. You could already feel a growing pounding in your head, the world’s noise becoming more muffled by the second. It seemed like your vision wasn’t affected yet, though—and for that, you were relieved. That meant you could still stretch yourself out until the shoot was finished. You’d already done this once yesterday, so a second time wouldn’t be that bad, right?

Wrong.

Seungmin’s voice as he carried out his lines in the scene seemed so far away to you already, and it had only been an hour since the cameras started rolling. Internally, you were already sounding the sirens. Something was definitely wrong—you don’t think Seungmin was supposed to sound like he was underwater.

Your co-star seemed to notice that you were out of it too, except he couldn’t exactly stop the scene as you were still conducting your parts as proficiently as you could. Director Han hasn’t called a cut yet, either. So, he settled on carefully watching you for signs. You also thought you could last until the scene was over—until you couldn’t.

The last thing you remember was a figure rushing over to you before your sight went pitch black.

“Y/N!”

“Cut!”

Seungmin felt his heart race as he dashed over to catch you from crashing to the ground. What was going on? You were completely fine a while ago. How did you end up fainting? Could it have been the heat? He didn’t think it was going to be that bad for you since he was dealing with it pretty well. The heat wasn’t exactly unbearable. So what was it?

“Actor Kim Seungmin,” D.O.P. Bang called out. “We should take her to the medic tent. Someone, call her manager.”

Seungmin had never agreed more to a suggestion in his life.

“Seungmin? What’s—” Minho’s face paled in shock at the sight of your limp figure. “Oh, shit. That’s why everyone is running around like headless chickens. Quick, let’s get her to the medics.”

Minho sped over to give the actor a helping hand on steadying you, only to be stopped. “We’re wasting so much time.” Seungmin clicks his tongue.

Everyone could only watch as Seungmin positioned his arms on your back and behind your knees, hastily pulling you up towards him in a bridal carry and speeding away to the medic’s tent. Minho’s jaw dropped at his talent’s actions before recovering from the shock and tailing him.

“Seungmin!”

“What?” Seungmin responds half-heartedly as he sets you down on the cushioned stretcher, stepping back as the medics do their job.

“You—” Minho squeaks out. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That!” He gestured towards you, still unconscious and being checked on by the medics on standby. “Did you just carry Actress Y/N?”

Seungmin ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “And what about it? Did I commit a crime or something? I was just helping!”

Minho was conflicted. In all the years he had been working as Seungmin’s manager, the actor had never shown this much attention towards his other co-workers, despite maintaining an approachable and friendly image. Of course, that wasn’t particularly a bad thing—especially in an industry where caution towards everyone around you was basic common sense to prevent yourself from going down a road that would lead to your demise. The view was great up where it was high, but the fall was just as immense.

What Minho did acknowledge was your past with Seungmin. Because of that, he was inclined to think more about your friendship with his talent and how that played into your dynamic. Yet, over the course of the two days you two had been filming, he hasn’t exactly seen the kind of relationship he was expecting. There were discrepancies in what he knew about you and Seungmin, as well as gaps in the bond his actor painted a picture of. In times like these, there were only a few reasonable explanations that Minho could think of, which made him uneasy.

Something big was coming in the future—one that he needed to prepare for as early as now.

Hurried footsteps could be heard nearing the tent as Seungmin and Minho diverted their lines of sight towards the entrance, just in time to see a fairly muscular figure come in all frantic. “How is she?”

Minho immediately recognized the man from a conversation he had in the personal staff area, recalling his introduction as your manager. The former bowed slightly in greeting. “Manager Seo Changbin.” Seungmin felt his blood boil after seeing your manager’s late entrance.

“Where even were you?” He asked coldly, intentionally making his tone sharp. “You know, for her manager, you sure are practically nowhere to be found during shoots.”

Changbin splutters at the accusation. “Y/N doesn’t like it when I stay to watch! She says it’s pressuring!”

“Sure. But it’s your job to be on standby in the event that she needs you. How come you weren’t?”

“I—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” A new face entered the space, who Seungmin quickly made out to be Assistant Director Lee. The second-in-hand gave him a disapproving look. “Actor Kim Seungmin, please stop lashing out at Actress Y/N’s manager.”

Seungmin felt like he was seconds away from committing arson. “I’m not lashing out if it's a reasonable argument!”

He felt someone grab a hold of him, forcefully pushing him down to sit. It was only then that Seungmin seemed to finally be conscious of how emotionally he had been acting—accepting Minho’s foresight on his actions. Assistant Director Lee, on the other hand, did not appreciate his recklessness.

“That it is, but we’re going to need you to stay calm,” he states. “The situation is sensitive enough as it is.”

Seungmin felt like he had no choice but to agree. He couldn’t risk making an unreasonable scene in such a respected project set, and knowing you, a tension-filled tent wasn’t going to be your preferred area of rest. Glancing back at your unconscious figure still being tended to, he let out a sigh to release the extra pressure in his chest.

Just what was he doing right now?

Once Assistant Director Lee saw him calm down a significant amount, he clapped to disperse the heavy silence. “Great. Now, can someone inform us when she wakes up so we can restart the shoot?”

So much for calming down, because Seungmin’s temper flared up again in an instant. “Are you kidding me?” He growled. “No, we are not proceeding with filming today!”

“Actor Kim, we don’t have enough time—”

“I’ll pay for all the expenses for the extension and rescheduling of all the remaining shoots. Put all of it under my personal bank account.”

Minho’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets in shock. “Seungmin, what—”

“I said what I said,” Seungmin continued. “Now go do it. Both of us won’t step in front of the camera for the rest of the day.”

“You can’t just decide that for Actress Y/N,” Assistant Director Lee reasoned in disbelief.

Unluckily for him, Seungmin had already made up his mind—and when that happens, he isn’t one to give up on it.

“Then we’ll tell her it’s cancelled because I’m sure as hell won’t be filming today. You can’t make her act out the scenes prepared today without me.”

Assistant Director Lee was conflicted. Taking a day off so suddenly when they’d already had everything set up was going to be such a waste—and frankly, Director Han was already on edge about it. Granted, this wasn’t the first time he’d come across this situation, and certainly won’t be the last in his time in the industry. Now, an actor telling them that they’d pay for the cost of their demand? That one was new.

Kim Seungmin was notorious in the field for being a perfectionist, so he honestly came in here expecting him to agree with their plan. Maybe he should’ve considered the rumors he’d heard around the set that Actor Kim and you were closer than they initially thought. With that, Assistant Director Lee could only sigh. He’d just have to deal with Director Han’s displeasure.

Along with being a perfectionist, Kim Seungmin was also incredibly stubborn.

“I understand,” he concedes. “I’ll inform Director Han.”

Seungmin tried not to show his surprise on his face. He didn’t think he’d actually get this result so easily, but it was welcomed. “Thank you.”

“Let us know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

Assistant Director Lee chuckled at Seungmin’s firm reply before announcing his leave. The atmosphere in the tent improved as he stepped out, but awkwardness still lingered in the air. Minho dropped down to slump on a plastic chair, leaving Changbin to stand stiffly near him.

“Y/N is totally gonna kill you, dude.” Minho groans, completely letting go of formalities in stress.

Seungmin had half the mind to be embarrassed by his choices. “And to think I’m doing this all for her sake,” he scoffs good-naturedly before turning to your manager. “Did something happen before the shoot? She couldn’t have passed out like this just because of the heat today.”

Changbin scratches at his neck. “Uh, I’m not sure—”

“—It’s exhaustion,” one of the medics spoke up. “Her body seems to be completely fatigued, as well as slightly dehydrated, but that must be the heat’s contribution. Has she not been getting enough rest?”

They watched as Changbin’s face morphed into shock, completely unsure of how that could’ve even happened. “But she said she was going to bed early yesterday!”

Your manager was slowly getting on Seungmin’s nerves. First, it was his constant absence from the set. Next, it was his blatant disregard for your well-being. The last time he checked, a manager was supposed to be aware of their talent’s condition as much as possible. Any less and it would be neglect.

He narrowed his eyes. “The picture you’re painting for me is not a good one, Manager Seo.”

“What are you implying right now, Actor Kim?” Changbin pounced back, Seungmin’s tone stirring negative emotions inside him.

Seungmin refused to back down. “You know damn well.”

“Kim Seungmin!”

“Watch your mouth—”

A rustling noise interrupted the three men’s small disagreement. “Ugh,” you groaned in pain. “What in the world?”

“Y/N!” Seungmin jumps up without a second thought to rush over. In the distance, Minho and Changbin’s eyes meet in mutual speculation.

“Seungmin, sorry, but please shut up.” You raise a hand to cradle your head. “My head is pounding.”

You could vaguely make up a medic handing Seungmin some pills and a bottle of water, saying something about how you were stable enough to just need rest and hydration. The next thing you knew was feeling a hand gently take your chin to create an opening and a pill being dropped inside, along with a water bottle pressing against your lips. You gulped it down in shock.

“The fuck—” You coughed. Another hand came up again to wipe some of the water you spilled around your mouth before you pushed it away. “Kim Seungmin!”

Your co-star rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “Would it kill you to stop being so fussy?”

“Not when you’re treating me like a child!”

Changbin clears his throat, effectively stopping your bickering. “Uh—I’m going to go get us lunch,” he meekly informs you two. “The medics also already went out to get food earlier, so I think we need to get our share before it’s all gone.”

Minho nods at Changbin’s words a bit too enthusiastically for your liking. “I’ll come with him. You two can talk while waiting.”

The two of you watch as your managers dash out of the tent like cartoon characters, raising a suspicious brow at their sudden change in behavior. Seungmin clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning back to you and flicking a finger at your forehead without warning. You squealed at the added pain as Seungmin’s suppressed laughter filled the room.

“You are such an asshole!” You shriek while bringing both hands to shield your forehead belatedly.

“And your hair looks like a nest,” he replies with a snicker.

You gave him a glare at his comment, rubbing the sore spot gently. “Shit,” you whined, feeling the ache from inside your head again. “I can’t believe I fainted. How long was I out? What about the shoot? Are we resuming after lunch?”

The questions you were asking him only served as Seungmin’s reminder of his actions earlier, causing his mouth to run dry. Truth be told, even he was unsure of how to tell you everything that happened while you were away in dreamland. He couldn’t just drop the ball at you that he made sure that the shoot had been cancelled just for you to have the rest of the day to rest up. At the same time, there was practically no other way to convince you that the cancellation wasn’t your fault unless he told you the truth.

But Seungmin had already caused you enough misunderstandings to last a decade—and he wasn’t about to add another one.

“You weren’t out for long,” he told you. “I’m actually surprised you even woke up right away. The shoot’s cancelled.”

He watched you pause to let the words sink in. What did he mean by the shoot’s been cancelled? Wouldn’t that be too costly? After all, you were literally renting a place far away from the city to shoot this movie. A shoot cancellation meant an extension, which also meant new arrangements needed to be made. You curled up into a ball, wanting to evaporate into the clouds at the heat of the sun. How much more were you going to screw up everyone’s experience with this project?

“Is it because of me?” You muttered.

Seungmin felt something inside him break at how small you made yourself seem. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, only to once again fail to prevent it. That one was on him, though—he didn’t manage to tell you right away that he was the one responsible for the shoot’s cancellation. He felt the need to chase away your negative headspace as fast as possible.

“Why do you always blame yourself first? I cancelled the shoot, so just get some more rest.” He sighs.

Your eyes snap upwards to meet his. He had got to joking. “What?” You ask, bewildered at the statement. “And they agreed? I can still continue!”

Seungmin immediately acts to lift your legs back up on the stretcher when he sees you trying to get up. He places a heavy hand on your calves to lock them in place before sending you an unamused stare. “Land a single foot out of this stretcher, and I’ll make sure the shoot gets moved to next week.”

“You can’t just do that!” Your mouth gaped open like a fish. “Do you even know how bad the cost is going to be to extend for that long?”

“I’m more than capable of shouldering the expenses.”

That single statement made your stomach drop. “You cannot be serious,” was your horrified reaction. “Seungmin, did you pay for the extension costs?”

The man before you only shrugged, like he hadn’t just dropped significant information. “What about it?” You blanched at his unconcerned attitude.

“What do you mean, what about it?” You asked, absolutely outraged. “I swear, you’ve always been like this! You think you could just play around with everything around you, since you can. Why can’t you take things seriously for once?”

It was Seungmin’s turn to look offended. “Now, when did I ever do that?”

“The charity drama!” You cry out. “Yeah, I knew all about your little plan back then. If you acted well enough, they wouldn’t pay attention to whatever mess I was making, was it? I even overheard you telling your friends you chose me to become the female lead just because you were curious about how I kept advancing levels when I barely met the standard—and there I was foolish enough to believe that you chose me for my skills!”

“I—” Seungmin stammers. “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” you held back a sob, feeling emotional as you poured out your inner insecurities. “Why would you? Someone of your caliber could go around bending things to your will, and no one would bat an eye since they would justify it with your talent. I’m the complete opposite, Seungmin.”

Seungmin was quite alarmed, to say the least. These were your side of the story—the side that he never got to acknowledge. He could only watch you try to keep yourself together in front of him, clearly struggling as your emotions ran wild at the release of what seemed to be years of suppressed experiences. His body was screaming at him to move and comfort you in any way he knew how, but for the first time in his life, Seungmin was completely frozen in guilt.

“I’ve lived the life below people like you. We were the ones that were always stuck in the shadows, where stepping on us became the norm. People like us were the pieces in your games of chess who couldn’t even speak out in the fear of being thrown out.” You inhaled deeply before meeting his gaze. “It was a life you would never even begin to imagine experiencing at your ability, Seungmin.”

Your words were like spears thrown at Seungmin’s heart. They all rang true in his head. He would never understand what you went through because he was part of the problem. Seungmin thought back to his past, trying to recall where it all started.

He was a young child, only ten years old, when he discovered his passion for acting. His class decided to do a play for the school festival, and he got the role of the main character completely by chance through drawing lots. Young Seungmin didn’t think of it too much and agreed out of obligation. It wasn’t until practices started that he started to take an interest in it after receiving constant praise from his classmates and homeroom teacher. This fascination only bloomed more on the day of the festival, where he found out that performing for people could be this exhilarating.

From then on, Seungmin made it his lifelong dream to become an actor. Seeing his talent in the field, his parents supported him wholeheartedly, eventually leading to them suggesting he join an acting academy to improve. The praises didn’t stop even after he joined the academy—in fact, they only doubled in frequency, making Seungmin come to the conclusion that he must’ve been some sort of prodigy. Perhaps it was due to that mindset of his that he paraded around like the world was his. To his defense, none of the adults around him saw the wrong in his behavior and even went as far as encouraging it.

It was when he graduated from the academy and started his work as a professional actor that he got humbled by all the talent around him. Everyone seemed to be on his level or greater, which completely shattered his worldview. During those times in his rookie years, he learned the importance of hard work and how much it could really make a difference. There was one time that he thought to himself—maybe this was the reason he felt so attracted to you.

You were the first person he ever associated with the difference that hard work brought. Seungmin first noticed you on the first day of intermediate level. He had gotten to that level first and thus kept an eye out for notable candidates from the beginner level. The thing is, he had never even heard of you or any of your performances—so it was a complete surprise to see you climb up to intermediate level. From then on, he observed you from afar, never really approaching. To him, you seemed plain; someone who didn’t even exude star quality. So eventually, he forgot all about you again.

Until he saw your name on the same paper as his, indicating that both of you would be in the same batch that got promoted to junior level.

The charity drama was another project Seungmin gained an unexpected opportunity from. With the privilege given to him as the top ranker for the year-end evaluations, he chose you as his female lead. All Seungmin wanted was to see what kind of shine you had as an actor, and he was rewarded greatly with your stellar performance after days of painful practices. When you were once again bumped up to senior level right alongside him, he was ecstatic. You had changed since the charity drama, and your aura started to take up more space in their small practice room. Seungmin wanted to get closer to you, but the two of you would only end up clashing every time. He guesses that you and him were just complete opposites in everything, down to your work ethic. He still tried to interact with you in any way he knew how, though—which led to his friends teasing him about his little crush on you.

Now, he couldn’t help but think that maybe they were right.

Seungmin pulled his hand away from your calves, letting his hands fall down on his sides before bowing deeply. “I’m sorry. There would be no excuse for my actions, and it’s even worse that I have no recollection of the details when I’ve obviously affected someone. I know an apology wouldn’t erase everything that has already happened, but it would be the start of my attempts to make sure it doesn’t happen again. At this point, all I can ask for is your forgiveness.”

You quickly reached out to grasp his arms, trying to pull him up from his act of remorse. “Get up—oh my god. It’s fine, Seungmin. Really. I’ve already forgiven you yesterday, honestly. My behavior also had some faults towards you, and it was unacceptable.”

“Knowing why now, I think it was more than reasonable.”

You let out a laugh at his words. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you teased. “Now, I think the other crew members also deserve an apology from us.” Seungmin’s face paled at the reminder. Just imagining Assistant Director Lee scolding him for his audacity earlier was sending him into early retirement.

“Yeah,” he coughs. “But can we not take back the shoot cancellation? It would be so awkward for me if we did, and you still need the rest.”

“Fine, you big baby.” You pinched his cheek after seeing his childish pout. Seungmin was quick to swat your hand away, despite the burning sensation he could feel heating up his ears. “So does this mean we’re friends?”

Even if he could feel a crack form in his heart from your innocent words, Seungmin refused to show it.

“Sure. Friends.”

06 : SIX.

Being friends with Seungmin was odd.

Granted, you already got a taste of what that felt like for the two days that flew by since you two decided on a truce. However, you didn’t really feel much of a change in your dynamic in those two days—not until things took a turn after your conversation in the medic tent.

After your little heart-to-heart session, Seungmin had begun acting strangely. And by strangely, you meant becoming a complete one-eighty from the Kim Seungmin you were used to. It was almost like he was replaced by a softer, more warm-hearted version of himself. In one talk, you were suddenly subject to his endless affection, albeit still exhibiting the Kim Seungmin flare that you were comfortable with. Overall, it was just weird to think that four days ago, the two of you were fighting like cats and dogs. Now, you watched him bounce up and down as he gave himself a pep talk to prepare for the kissing scene.

“Are you that nervous?”

Seungmin flinches at your question, seemingly not expecting your voice to enter his head while he was seconds away from a meltdown. Your co-star looks at you sheepishly. “Is that bad? This is driving me insane.”

That was another thing different about Seungmin after the medic tent incident. He acted a lot more endearingly in your eyes. You faintly recall a comment you made a few days ago about how Seungmin would never be akin to a small bird who deserved to be doted on. But seeing the Seungmin in front of you right now, you might just take back your words.

Kim Seungmin had a lot more layers than you thought—and you found yourself wanting to uncover them all.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first kiss on camera,” you snort. “Just go do it like you usually do. Act like how your character would act in the moment. You have my whole consent, anyway.”

Seungmin wanted to tell you how much you didn’t understand his dilemma right now. In all fairness, even he was somewhat unsure of what was happening to him the past few days. All he did know was that he was right in what he thought during the first day of filming—he really did feel like he was turning younger in front of you.

It was almost embarrassing how easily he slipped into that carefree attitude around you, especially after your conversation in the medic tent. He was doing so well up until then, so what happened? Seungmin couldn’t be more curious about his own actions. He did have an inkling of what it was, but he needed more proof to act on it. Seungmin couldn’t risk becoming more of an idiot in your eyes. You already had too much of that experience with him during your filming yesterday, which was the rescheduled shoot of the one he demanded to pause.

That also meant that this was the last day you two had on set together before everyone packed their bags and headed back to the city. After that, it would be just him again on set to film the movie’s first scenes of his character.

Seungmin wasn’t disappointed. He totally wasn’t.

“What are you going to do if I lose control and give into my character, huh?” He argues. You stopped reading your script to give him an unamused stare.

“Seriously?” You scoffed. “If you really must know, then I wouldn’t do anything. If that’s what the male lead feels, then the female lead just needs to reciprocate if they’re really in love with each other. As their actors, we need to deliver those same emotions.”

You didn’t get what was making Seungmin so on edge about the scene. Reviewing his past works, this certainly wouldn’t be his first on-screen kiss, nor was it his first romance project as the male lead. What made you so different from his other co-stars that was making him act like a rookie?

“If anything, I should be more nervous than you. This is actually my first kiss scene!”

“That’s just even worse!” Seungmin whines, burying his face in his hands. “This is gonna be terrible.”

It was then that you finally had an idea as to why Seungmin looked like he was having a mid-life crisis this early in his life.

You felt a grin creep up on your face and paste itself there. “Did you want this to be a good memory for me?”

Seungmin groans at your poking. “Stop teasing me! So what if I do? Did I commit a crime, huh?”

“The crime of stealing my heart, yes.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you,” you laugh. “I try my best.”

Seungmin mutters something beneath his breath—something you couldn’t hear because of Director Han calling for the two of you. He watched as you skipped away, leaving him to follow in your footsteps. Seungmin smiled at the picture painted in front of him.

“I know.”

You stopped at your designated place in front of the camera, turning back to look at Seungmin beside you, who was already sweating bullets. Your hand unconsciously lifts up to wipe them off, which startles the both of you. Seungmin opens his mouth to say something but was cut off by Director Han’s loud voice.

“Alright!” He claps. “This is our last scene for the day before we call it a wrap! I’m sure you two already know what it is, so all I’ll say is don't think too much about this. Enjoy it, or whatever you want to do—as long as it looks natural. Sounds good?” The two of you nod at him.

“Okay, camera starts at three,” he says, motioning towards D.O.P. Bang. “Two, one. Action!”

You took the opportunity to appreciate the scenery around you as the camera started rolling. The scene was set on a hill with a breathtaking view of the rest of the town. Hues of orange and pink start to tint the surroundings as the sun sets in the background. It was nothing less than ethereal, and you almost envied the female lead for having this moment in her life.

“I’ve always wanted to take someone here,” Seungmin says, reciting his lines. “When I was younger, I told myself that I was going to bring my true love here and propose. It was unfortunate that I moved away—this was my favorite spot in the whole world.”

You let yourself completely immerse in the situation. “Propose, huh? I’m sure the lucky person would love it up here. It’s so serene, like it's taking away all your stress just by being here.”

Seungmin gently grabs your hand into his, making you turn to meet his eyes. You almost gasped out of character after seeing the immense amount of love swirling in his gaze. Love looked great on him, you pointed out in your head. One day, Seungmin was going to look at someone else with the same gaze—someone that he loved with all his heart. A tinge of hot green jealousy burned in your stomach at the thought.

Part of you yearned for someone to look at you even just a fourth of the way Seungmin portrayed the male lead’s longing for the female lead. But for now, you had a role to fulfill. You could just lock these feelings up for later.

“Do you?” He asks. Your breath hitches at his question. “I’m not proposing—well, not yet. But I brought you here for a similar reason.”

Seungmin reaches for your other hand, now holding both of them. “I love you so much. I know our time together hasn’t been the longest, but it seems like my heart has found its way back home. Honestly, I first thought that it was just because I was back in town, but eventually I realized that I felt at home with you too.” He caresses your knuckles with his thumbs. “Maybe my heart knew where it belonged long before I did. I loved you back then, just like I love you now.”

You couldn’t help but genuinely tear up at Seungmin’s monologue. It was such a beautiful feeling to be loved, and you hoped that someday you could experience the same kind of love you acted with. “So, I’ll ask you this question,” Seungmin continued.

“Will you be mine?”

“Yes,” you sobbed out.

Seungmin lifts his hands to cup your crying face, bringing you closer to his own. The moment your lips connected felt so magical that you ended up leaning in more, savoring the moment with your fluttering heart. Seungmin reciprocates the act, kissing you with more emotion than he did just a second ago. His lips felt like smooth pillows, coaxing you to release all the tension you had left and rest—with him. Seungmin was being careful yet passionate at the same time, leaving you to drown in the sheer magnitude of the butterflies.

You couldn’t help but love every passing second that you were lost on his lips.

When you two pulled away due to the lack of air, he kept his forehead to yours, noses touching. The soft sound of both your laughter filled the surrounding area.

“Cut! That’s a wrap for today!” You hear everyone start cheering at Director Han’s words. Seungmin chuckles at them as he slowly steps back, missing the way your body followed after his warmth.

“Congratulations,” he says gently. You felt your heart skip a beat. “Your first on-screen kiss, done. How did I do?”

Oh, this was going to be dangerous for your heart.

07 : SEVEN.

There’s been an empty feeling in your heart since yesterday that you were trying to ignore.

It was currently the day after you returned to the city. You watched the bustling streets of urban life filter through the car’s tinted windows while Changbin continued to drive you back home after a busy day in the company. Something you had never expected to happen was getting attached to the small countryside town you filmed in enough to miss it like this.

You felt it when you stepped out of the car yesterday to head back to your apartment—the polished concrete floors of the parking building suddenly felt foreign to you. The abundance of luxury cars was evident in the space, reminding you that you were once again in the city. It felt almost cold and lonely with the way you couldn’t see the hills you got used to seeing all day long. But it would do, you think to yourself.

The city could also be warm if you wanted it to be.

“Oh? I think they’re filming the first scenes of the movie in a building around here,” Changbin pointed out from the driver’s seat. “Minho mentioned this street a day ago.”

You raised a brow at his words. “Since when did you and Seungmin’s manager get so close?”

“Ever since you and his talent did,” Changbin snickers.

Heat rose to your face at your manager’s teasing. It was no secret to anyone who witnessed the movie’s shoot that you and Seungmin got extremely close after the fainting incident. You were sure that his efforts to stop the filming from continuing that day was also the talk of the town with the crew members. After all, who would go so far as to pay for rescheduling costs for their co-star? Sure, you and Seungmin were friends, but the two of you were barely talking in the first few days of the project. Anyone in their right mind would find his actions out of the blue—just like you did too.

Maybe it was just Seungmin’s way of making up for all the things you both went through. At first, it made you mad at how he flaunted his blatant disregard for the people affected by his decisions. The image of younger Seungmin came to mind, triggering the part of you that still held a slight resentment for what he did before. However, you found yourself slowly changing your mind as you two apologized to the crew members for the sudden decision, promising them swift and quality scenes the next day. As Seungmin walked you back to your inn’s room, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of happiness bubble in your stomach at the thought of someone caring enough to do this for you.

You watched as the evident signs of a film crew appeared in the distance, right in front of an office building. The same tents you’ve come to familiarize yourself with stood strong, indicating that this was indeed filming the same movie you were working on. It was already early in the evening, so they should be wrapping up any time soon. Should you stop by and say hello?

“Do you want to stop by and visit? You don’t have any schedules left for the rest of the evening,” Changbin suggests, getting ready to park near the building if you give confirmation.

Maybe you could repay Seungmin for his support over the past few days by visiting him. You smile at the thought of catching him off-guard.

“Sure, why not?”

The summer air of June was starting to make itself present despite already cooling significantly due to the sun saying its goodbyes an hour or two ago. Bright lights scattered across the vast street, a mixture of car lights, building lights, and streetlights morphing into the familiar image of a city that everyone knew. You walked towards the set peacefully, effectively going under the radar with a black mask covering your face. It was just a few steps more until you reached the barricade, when a familiar voice called out your name.

“Y/N?” Eunha squinted her eyes to determine if it really was you, only for you to watch them widen in surprise when her conclusion was proven correct. “Oh, it is you!”

You waved as you got closer. “Hi, Eunha. I saw you guys while passing by and thought I’d give you a visit,” you say shyly. Eunha beamed at your explanation.

“That’s so sweet of you; you’re always welcomed here!” She gives you a hug, quickly separating to drag you over the barricade. “Come on, I’ll show you to the others.”

Witnessing the set as a visitor was interesting. Despite the multiple people that greeted you on the way, it still felt as if you were an outsider with a V.I.P. pass to tour the set. Normally, you would be somewhere near the center, where the main scene was going to be shot. So staying back and watching the other crew members do their own things on the outskirts of that area was a new experience. In a way, you felt giddy like a child on a field trip.

“Actress Y/N is here!”

Eunha’s ecstatic voice traveled throughout the main area of the set, catching the attention of the directors, who had a figure you knew all too well standing right beside them. His eyes snapped up from the monitor D.O.P. Bang was showing him, eyes searching around for yours. Once he caught sight of your face, his eyes lit up.

“Y/N?”

If anyone asks, you totally weren’t checking him out. The clean black office suit he was wearing was incredibly flattering on his features, along with the formal brush-up the hairstylists put his hair in. You had only seen him with his hair down for the past few days—with his character supposedly portraying the look of someone who was comfortably back home to rest. And while that Seungmin was also objectively handsome, the way his hair was framing his face right now was stirring something more inside of you. Swallowing the feeling away, you straightened yourself.

“Hi, Seungmin.” You laughed. “Missed me?”

Seungmin abandoned his post with the directors and sped towards you. “Why are you here? It’s getting late,” he says, worried. Seungmin lets his eyes wander behind you for a second before a frown finds its way to his face. “And where’s that damned manager of yours?” You sighed at his obvious complaint.

“When are you going to let down on Changbin?” You say, unamused. “I swear, he means well. I came from the company, so he’s guarding the car since it’s just on hazard.”

“Still—” Seungmin tries to argue, only to be cut off by you waving your finger like he had been a bad child.

“Stop that. We talked about your coddling.”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Maybe I’d stop once you actually learn how to take care of yourself.”

A series of claps interrupted the conversation you two were having. “Okay, break it up, lovebirds,” Minho says while inserting himself between you two. “It’s so nice to see you again, Actress Y/N. But we have a crew celebration dinner to attend, so I’ll borrow Seungmin first over here.”

Your co-star resists his manager, staying firmly on spot to prove a point. “Wait, I’ll walk her back to her car first.” Minho gave him an odd look.

“What do you mean walk her back?” He questions. “She’s attending. You just need to get changed out of that suit.” It was your turn to look confused.

“Huh?”

That was how you suddenly found yourself sitting at a long barbecue restaurant table with the other female crew members, silently listening to their energetic conversations while downing as much meat as you could. You didn’t know if this was a curse or a blessing in disguise, but you would surely regret it if you didn’t make the most of what was handed to you. Free food is still free food, even if it was a sponteneous invitation from the directors.

“I’m so happy we finished filming!” The woman assigned to your makeup, Yerin, said aloud. “Now it's those computer bastards’ turn to slave away.”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for a portion of her hardships. “Once again, I apologize for all the trouble I caused you on set.” You slightly bowed while still sitting. “Hopefully, it will be better the next time we get to work together.” Yerin only waved off your apology.

“Oh, please—don’t be such a worrywart! Having you on set was a delight,” she squeals. “Plus, we had a blast seeing the development between you and Actor Kim Seungmin.” Eunha’s face quickly turned into one of horror.

“Yerin!”

You paled at her words. “I’m sorry, what?”

What did she mean by that? The inside of your mind turned into a battlefield at Yerin’s implication. Your eyes immediately turned to search for Changbin, feeling the need to inform him of a possible issue in the near future. In your experience in the industry, scandals always started like this. You didn’t want this to affect Seungmin’s career negatively, so it was always better to prepare early than late.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N,” Eunha frantically says, trying to get a hold of her co-worker. “She’s just drunk.”

Yerin pushed her hands away, albeit weakly. “Eunha, stop being such a party pooper,” she whines. “We all know they’re dating now. Oh, our crew has tight lips, though! We won’t sell you guys or something.” That didn’t ease the panic that had already formed in your stomach.

“We’re not dating.”

You could only watch as Yerin’s showed genuine shock at your revelation. “Wait, for real?” She gasps. “That’s too bad. You two look great together!”

“Yerin, seriously!”

“Sorry, I’ll just go get some fresh air.” You excused yourself as politely as you could before standing up to head out the front door.

The now-cooled air pricked at your skin, making you breathe a bit more easily than in the humid interior of the restaurant. You lowered yourself to the narrow road’s curbside, choosing to sit down and admire the quiet neighborhood’s lights. It felt a lot better out here than inside, making you feel guilty for not enjoying the celebration more than you should have as one of the main characters for the project.

If you had refused, it would’ve been a bad look. You didn’t have a schedule for the night to use as a reason, and lying to the people who gave you the opportunity to work on your biggest project yet was out of the question. At the same time, you think of what you would’ve been doing instead if you had said no to their dinner offer. Laying down in your apartment while eating takeout wasn’t such a bad scene. The sliding of the aged wooden door brought you out of your thoughts.

“See? Just what I said,” a monotonous voice pointed out. “No self-preservation skills whatsoever.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. “It’s just the outside of a family-owned barbecue establishment, Seungmin. There’s practically no one out here at this time.”

“Does that not make it worse?” He gave you a look of disapproval, crouching down slowly to join you on the curbside. “You have a knack for making people worry, do you?”

“Then stop worrying!” You snapped—his words reminding you of the situation you had just fled from to find peace.

Seungmin raised his hands in surrender. “Woah,” he exclaims. “Alright, something is clearly wrong. Talk to me.”

You could only turn away, feeling yourself unable to face him. It was an awkward subject to bring up, and you told yourself that Yerin had already promised that the crew was tight-lipped. Objectively, there was nothing more left for you to worry about. Subjectively, the implication bothered you. Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows at your reaction.

“Hey,” he calls out softly. “Did someone say something to you back there? You know I can beat them up, right?”

You grimaced at his attempts to comfort you. “You’re so violent,” you frowned. “What if it was a woman?”

“Oh, then I’m out of that. Sorry.”

“So full of shit, that’s what you are.”

Seungmin chuckled. “And that I am,” he replies, amused. “But seriously, I’m all ears if you want.”

A bitter taste announced its presence on your tongue, your mind forming a whirlpool of thoughts once again. “Why? Since we’re friends?” You spat out.

The space around you turned silent with Seungmin’s lack of response. You fought the urge to give him a discrete glance, just to see the damage you created. It took a few more seconds of the evening breeze being the only one talking between you two before Seungmin eventually spoke up.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he says in a low voice while running a hand through his hair to pull it back. His hairstyle from earlier was long gone, leaving you to wonder how he got rid of the hairspray so easily. “I actually don’t like that we’re friends.”

He watched as you deflated rapidly at his confession.

“Not in that way!” Seungmin splutters. “It’s just that I—ugh.” He brought up a palm to rub across his face.

Now, you were lost. The path of where the conversation was going became lost to you, making you stand in uncharted territory. Seungmin stayed silent for a few more seconds, trying to collect his thoughts. You let him have the time.

“You might curse at me for this or even put a distance between ourselves. But since this is our last day seeing each other on set until the movie’s release, I’ll take the chance now before I end up regretting I didn’t.”

“Seungmin, what—”

“The thought of staying just friends with you has been bothering me for a while now. It was like I was subjecting myself to my own personalized torture, where I couldn’t get away even if I tried. I’m still not sure what this entirely means for me—for us, but what I know is that platonic would never satisfy me at this rate.” He purses his lips, contemplating how to continue.

Eventually, Seungmin raised his head slightly to meet your eyes. “It’s odd. Admittedly, I’ve had my fair share of romantic relationships in the past, yet none of them could compare to what I was feeling now. At first, I thought it was just an obsession with you. Something that stemmed from my previous interest in you back at our senior level of academy—”

“You had a what?”

“I know,” he laughs humorlessly. “My friends used to tease me that I had a crush; that was why I was bothering you so much. Back then, I just brushed them off as jokes, telling them I only saw you as a rival. Well, look where that ended up.”

You were frozen in shock at his confession. “Seungmin,” you start. “I don’t know what to say.” He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to. Just let me have this moment to pour everything out,” he says. “Y/N, to put it into words, I feel at ease when I’m with you. At the same time, it always felt as if I was constantly worried about when it would end. That I would be left on my own again once you had finished your business with me. I tried to reason with myself, to put an acceptable distance between us in the case that what I had wasn’t the best for you. But I couldn’t do it, Y/N. Every time your voice entered my ears, it was like becoming a child. Unable to control their emotions and doing things without a second thought just because it felt like the right thing to do at the moment.” Seungmin looks up to the sky.

“That kiss we had—I think it was the happiest I’ve been in a while. It might have been just a job to you, because you could say it really was, but for me, it was finally a chance to express everything I had been holding back for the past few days. All I want you to remember is that nothing from that act was faked,” he exhales. “I really don’t think this is something you feel for a friend, so—”

“Let’s see where this takes us.”

“—What?”

“I’m not sure how you expect me to top what you just told me, but I’ll try with my own words.” You teased him with a genuine smile. “Seungmin, I feel strikingly similar to what you feel about me. Just maybe not as intensely yet.”

You let yourself move at the need to cup his face as he continues to look at you in shock. “I’m sure you already know that I spent quite a long time hating your guts, so the fact that I even started to feel an attraction towards you was shocking, to say the least. I was never one to believe in fictional tropes, despite my lifelong yearning to experience a love like that even once. As an actor, I’ve made a career out of acting those scenes out for people to see. But also as an actor, I knew more than anyone else how much real life would never be able to compare to the scripts I’ve seen brought to life on set. They were methodological, a feeling so carefully put together to achieve its maximum potential—real life isn’t like that.” You inhale deeply.

“Things happen for no reason, like they don’t for no reason either. And in a way, I felt both with you.” Your hands lowered themselves towards his hands to hold them tightly. “Enemies-to-lovers? It was laughable at first, but as the days went on, everything just fell into place as if it always belonged there. You feel like a child in front of me? I feel like I’ve never felt warmth in my entire life until you came along. When I first got out of the car yesterday, it was only then that I described urban life as cold and lonely in my entire life. I thought that maybe it was because I got too attached to the homey feel of the countryside that everything I’ve ever known somehow became foreign in a few days. But maybe it was just because of you.”

You found yourself giggling at the dumbfounded look he still had on his face, mind slow to take in what was happening in front of him. “What I’m saying is that I would love to see where this takes us. Right now, you can’t expect me to fall in love all of a sudden, especially considering our past. Though if you try hard enough, perhaps that might be just around the corner. What do you say?” Seungmin finally broke free from his trance, eyes watering.

“I’ll show you hard work that you’ve never seen before in your life.”

“And I believe it.” You pinch his cheek before standing up. “Now, let’s go back inside? The party is still ongoing.”

Seungmin clumsily follows, calling out just in time before you opened the door. “Wait—I still don’t have your number.” You gave him an astounded stare.

“Seriously?” You breathe out. “We went through all that, and we still don’t have each other’s numbers?”

Seungmin voices out his offense. “Well, I’m sorry that I was missing all my shots!”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna take a shot now, loverboy?”

“For you, yes.”

taglist 🔖— thank you for waiting ! 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @feelikecinderella @abbiestearsricochet @heelovesmeknot @floating-moon-dust @yoontaethings @hwangism143 @jazziesssss @hwangflora @vixensss @yourlocalstayyxi @dollce-exe @bambispostsblog @authentic-65 @dandelions-143

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

Kurenai: Kakashi Kks: Ah. Kurenai and...baby, what’s up? Kurenai: You mind if I come in a moment? Kks: Uhhhhh I-

Kks: So what did you need to speak about? Did something happen? K: No, Nothing’s happened. You haven’t gotten to properly see and bond with her yet. Here Kks: You know I’m not fond of kids. K: That’s why I didn’t ask. Hold your arms out. Ok, now, don’t look absolutely petrified.

Kks: She’s ok, I guess [YELP] Oi! Don’t pinch me while I’m holding your baby! K: You wouldn’t drop her. Asuma would haunt you forever! Kks: Terrifying thought, Mirai.... How are you feeling? K: Exhausted. Do you really want to hear how horrifying having a baby is? Kks: No, please don’t tell me.

K: I came over to check on you as well. Any news? Kks: No. He’s still the same. K: Is that why it looks like this in here? Kks: ...Yeah. Doctor said he may never wake up. Since we’re eachother’s medical contacts, Tsunade told me I had to prepare to make hard decisions should it come to that.

Kks: With the council breathing down my neck over a job I don’t want, I had... A bit of an outburst. K: I don’t even blame you. That’s... That they expect you to carry on like normal. Still grieving. The person you love most is gone. But you’re still here. Don’t let them just dust you off and move on again. I’ll always have your back. Kks: You and Asuma always did. Even when I wasn’t grateful for it.

Kks: I can’t tell if they just don’t care or didn’t realize, Gai’s the one who held me together all these years. Only reason I’m still here at all is because of him. I don’t think tenzou, the elders, or the village are prepared for what’ll become of me if I lose him. So, I don’t care anymore. Let them be mad. I won’t give up on him. K: You should talk to him. Kks: huh K: Talk about anything! I’m sure the sound of your voice will help him find his way back. Especially if you sound sad, Kks: uuh

K: I can hear it now, “My eternal rival is sad? Not on my watch!“ Kks: Pretty accurate impression. K: There’s been lots of source material! Kks: Maaa, Your mom’s a huge dork K: Oi! [kakashi chuckles]

K: He’ll be so upset he missed her birth Kks: Oh, devastated. I can’t wait to see the look on Gai’s face, Mirai, when I tell him /I/ held you first! When he wakes up

Kks: Hey, Gai. Kurenai said i should talk to you.

Kks: Feels weird. Most of the people I’m used to talking to like this are all... Dead.

It’s so eerie how silent you’ve been for so long. you’re not even this quiet when you sleep. Your kids come everyday to see you. Naruto and sakura when they can. Lots of others. I’ve been telling them embarrassing  stories from when we were kids since you keep making them wait. Do you remember when I came over while you and Dai were making supper

Dai: Kakashi! Good to see you, my boy! Kks: Id Gai home? Dai: He’s helping with supper! Go on, inside, you’re always welcome! Kks: Ok Dai: Atta boy Kks: Hey, G- !? ummm? Gai: OH!! Rival!! Kks:  Is that a lid?! Gai: Correct!! It stops me from crying while cutting onions! A win for me!!

Kks: Against.... the onions? Gai: Yep! KKs:[snicker] Gai: Laugh all you want! Not everyone can comprehend innovation. Kks: Whatever. You forgot this at the training grounds. I know it’s yours there’s a turtle on it. Gai: See! You’re already tearing up! Kks: Am not Gai: Also, thankyou so much! Kks: Bye, I’m leaving. Gai: Could it be? You’re scared I can cut much faster than you! Kks: I am not scared. Gai: Good, I think we have another lid! Kks: YOU-!

Dai: Great to see growing boys with such a hunger! I’ll never have to prep onions again! Kks: I think about that everytime I chop onions now. You’ve altered my brain with all the ridiculous things you’ve done. Can’t even look at the toys you’ve gotten the dogs without getting emotional

Kks: Just knowing you’re here still, I can barely function. It’s pretty pathetic... Your hair’s getting long. Turning into your dad.

[gai’s heartbeat] Kks: Gai

[gais heartbeat continues]

[gai’s heartbeat continues] Kks: If anything should happen to me, you’ll rush over, right? Gai: Damn right, I will. Dont you worry about that.

[Gai’s heartbeat]

Kks: I miss you

[vicariousresearcher]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Johnny who’s slowly making progress. Whose tremors in his hands are relaxing. Who’s starting to be able to order food in public again without his stutter doubling over itself. There are still more days than not that he’s using the wheelchair more than the forearm crutches but even with that he’s accustomed to it enough that he’s got plenty of mobility.

It’s been over two months that you’ve been working with Johnny and he’s been thriving as well as a man in his condition can. He attributes this entirely to his god-sent Angel of a nurse. He wouldn’t have gotten too far without you helping him through every stage. Having endless patience and compassion. Not a judgmental bone in your body.

So it comes as a complete shock when you ask him about having his sister or one of the team come up in two weeks because you have to take a shift back at the hospital.

“Why would you n-need that hen?” Johnny's voice is strained despite the joking tone he tries to lighten it up with. “Needing more funds? Am I n-not paying you well?”

You just shake your head, back turned to him while you section out his meds for the week. Unable to see the mounting anxiety in his face.

“Oh, don’t worry about my money. I just need to work on the floor every four months or I have to get reorientated. It’s just more convenient so that when I leave I have a job right away.”

“Already thinkin’ bout leaving me hen?”

You just rolled your eyes at the comment, having gotten to the point of being casual with Johnny weeks ago.

“Only so many football games I can listen to Johnny before I start to go mad. Try changing it up to hockey or baseball once n a while.” You slot the bottles back into the cabinet and the pill box on the counter for easy access. “So it’ll only be two days I’ll be gone and I can get everything set up beforehand. That sound good?”

You look over to him expectantly and Johnny doesn’t have the heart to say no to you. 

No, he can’t do that yet. That’ll freak you out. Get some big reaction. He needs to get you to make the decision to stay on your own.

......

Everything just seemed to go downhill so fast. Relapsing back into previous conditions.

Every other word evaded him to the point of forcing himself into a stewed, annoyed silence from being unable to just get a damn sentence out without ‘sounding like an engine about to give out.’

Waking up to a hard thump and groaning, sending you padding out into the dark hallway only to find Johnny on the ground, forearm crutches on the floor right beside him. Quickly stammering out that he thought he could make it to the bathroom without the wheelchair. He normally does this is just a one off please don’t fuss over him hen-

You having to strip off his shorts to apply moist pads to his thighs after he’d spilled steaming hot coffee on himself. His hands shook too bad to slide under the waistband. He kept apologizing with a look of frustration on his face. Brows furrowed and teeth bared with a hiss of pain yet eyes soft with humiliation as you kept reassuring him that it was okay. This was your job. You were there to take care of him.

He always tries to keep that light tone of his, joking about independence and no longer having a babysitter one day. It makes you want to believe him but the bitterness and scorn in his eyes when seeing even his buddies come by is palpable. 

Even the fun of watching football is sucked out when his brain contorts to see the men as comparisons to his own state. Functional men.

Men that you would never leave, men that you would willingly cling to, men so unlike him.

…..

Johnny’s therapist takes you aside before one of the sessions, asking about the sudden change in Johnny’s progress. If there were any triggers you could remember.

And you should’ve said something. Confessed that the trigger of Johnny’s worsening was the perceived threat of you leaving. But you didn’t. Because if you did then flags would be raised about the inappropriate boundaries being crossed between caretaker and patient and you would be removed from Johnny’s care. And that just would make his recovery worse. 

You were doing the right thing, right? You were just looking out for Johnnys well-being.

[soonyoungs]

OH MY GOD HI!!! PLEASE THINK ABOUT THIS WITH ME BECAUSE I'M GOING CRAZY: https://x.com/kinulta/status/1758079004891119867?t=gqoiVpFsS-sWDhu2m910jw&s=19

this is SO woozi... he hasn't touched you properly for exactly 2 weeks and you are so so needy... so on a normal day at the studio you go to check it out if he is eating, he simply decides to take a break. he sits with you on the couch, talks a little, until kisses automatically appear. at first, small kisses with smiles on both sides, but everything goes wrong when he puts you on his lap. the pink mouth attacking yours and you can't hold back, letting out a soft moan between the contact. you want him SO MUCH, but you don't force him to do anything or demand anything from him, because you know how busy he is. HOWEVER, he surprises you when he takes out his own cell phone and starts recording a video. you find it strange, but then you understand the real function. he asks you to sit on the floor, so that the camera captures his pretty face well ☝🏻 and his only demand is that you stay quiet. nothing else. like a good girl you obey. you're still so turned on and you only realize how much when he has his fingers in you and his hand over your mouth, working to really keep you still. the little body that hasn't felt this for so many days is overloaded and that's why you cum faster than normal, letting a squeaky, sly noise leave your lips when the orgasm comes... and you think he'll probably finish and go back to work, but once again he surprises you by continuing to play with your sensitive clit and your intimacy, It's SO MUCH, your legs are shaking nonstop and you you can hear the wet noises throughout the studio. you know it’s too much but you still leave him there because you know he probably needed it more than you did and only after the fourth orgasm does he stop, you're exhausted and he hasn't used anything other than his fingers. your mind is blank and you desperately need a hug... he kisses your forehead and fixes your hair, saying that you are a good girl and obeyed him just as he asked. so he stops the recording and whether he'll fuck you afterwards or not... it's up to you, love

please please please please PLEASE

ఇ woozi and gn!reader (mentions of a clit and vagninal insertion!)

ఇ warnings: smut! not proofread! implied squirting maybe? as usual i do not know how to end things so abrupt ending :(

ఇ wc: 2,052

ఇ notes: baby you basically wrote this yourself!! i hope this is okay and im so sorry it’s taken me forever to get it out! ♡︎

weeks. it had been weeks since you last properly saw him, let alone touched him. it was becoming a problem, a very difficult and needy problem. however you had come to the conclusion that you can’t be too upset with him, as your job has kept you away from home just as much as his.

it wasn’t until you had a day off that you had reached your breaking point. you had to see him, today. sitting on your couch all day just waiting for the hours to tick by so you could catch a glimpse of your lover. it was around 7:00 pm when you had given in to your curiosities and decided to go see him yourself. 

throwing on a hoodie you grab your essentials and order a taxi. anxiety and anticipation rumble in your tummy, almost bubbling over, along the way. questions bouncing all over your brain. has he been eating? does he rest properly? as you continue thinking the worst your taxi pulls up beside an all too familiar building. you jump out, tip the driver and make your way upstairs, muscle memory taking over.

once you get to where you need to be you hesitantly knock on the door before opening it, briefly exposing his studio to the outside world. “hello,” you call out, softly, only to make your presence known “is anyone here?”

you can hear the sound of keys clacking as you move farther into the room. once you’ve made it far enough in you shyly clear your throat, trying to get his attention, again. this time he reacts to you, jumping slightly before turning his neck to see how has interrupted his brainstorming. “oh,” he exclaims “babe, what are you doing here?” he’s not able to hide his excitement as his smile grows wide on his face.

he moves over to you and embraces you tightly. “is this mine,” he asks tugging at the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing. you laugh and nod, mumbling something about how it smells like him and whatnot. the sound of your laugh gets his heart racing and has the tips of his ears burning red at record speed. he’s missed you, that much you can clearly tell.

you lean in to his touch, nuzzling your head into his neck, leaving small pecks. “missed you. missed you a lot, ji” you sigh, finally letting your body relax against his. he hums as he rubs your back. after standing in the middle of his studio for a solid five minutes, muttering “missed you”’s and “i love you”’s to one another, woozi takes your hand and leads you to the couch he has, off to the side, for late nights. 

once he’s sat on the cushions he pulls you down, onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you in place. he’s rocking you back and forth as you both catch up on the activities and work that’s kept you from each other. “it sucks,” you pout “hate that you’re so good at what you do. it keeps you away from home too much”. he knows you only mildly mean it, knows you’re just being needy and pouty so he lets it go.

you sigh and lean back in to him as he begins to rub soothing circles on your hips, before tapping his fingers to create a beat in his mind. you turn your head into his neck and leave small kisses there, trying to divert his attention away from work and back to you. “ji,” you voice comes out breathy, needy “missed you,” you say it again, batting your eyelashes at him, hoping he catches on this time. he laughs at your failed attempt at nonchalance before adjusting the both of you, so he can plant kisses on your face, your nose, your eyes, your ears, your neck, anywhere he’s able to reach.

woozi lifts your chin and leans in to give you a soft kiss on your lips. you sigh into the kiss, reaching up to run your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, gently massaging his scalp. after a few minutes of soft kisses and taking small breathers, woozi leans in to give you a deep, longing, kiss. catching you off guard, you let out a small moan and let your hips lift off of his lap a little, signaling that your neediness is almost to the point of uncontrollable. woozi smiles into the kiss and deepens it even further. “be good for me,” he nips at your bottom lip “okay, baby?”

you nod frantically, waiting for instruction. woozi moves you to his side, placing you on the couch directly. you begin to pout before realizing woozi has gotten up and placed his phone on the counter in front of you, making sure it’s able to capture the couch and anything that might happen there. he looks at you, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. you nod before opening your mouth “yes, it’s okay, want it”. you weren’t quite sure what it was, but you’re hoping to find out soon.

woozi makes his way back to the couch, and you. sitting himself back in the spot he had vacated earlier, he motions for you to place yourself back on his lap. you quickly do as instructed. as you take your seat, you can feel the beginning of his excitement starting to grow. once nestled back in his lap you begin to move your hips slowly, looking back to see his reaction. woozi has his head tilted back, neck pressed against the head rest of the couch. he slowly lifts his head, bringing his hands to your hips to halt your movements. “said you’d be good, remember,” he questions, cocking an eyebrow. you let out a small “yes” before facing forward. “good baby,” he mutters, leaning forward to kiss your neck “now, i need you to be so quiet, okay”.  he’s bringing his hands down to the hem of the hoodie you’re wearing and dragging his fingers up the length of your thigh, all the way to your panties. your breath catches in your throat, it’s been weeks without his touch and the gentle way he’s handling you now is driving you insane. the slow pace that he’s going causes your frustrated hips to push up, wanting to force him into applying pressure, but he’s not ready for that yet.

removing his hand from your panties, woozi moves to remove your hoodie, leaving you only in your undies. the cool air in the studio creates chills all over your skin and you arch your back at the feeling. woozi puts his hand back where it had originally been, against your core. he can feel the heat through the thin fabric of you panties. “needy, huh” he asks, knowing damn well he was just as needy as you. “yes, ji” you confirm “i’m so needy for you. i’ve missed you so much, it’s been hell without you there to take care of me.”

woozi nods in agreement, it’s been hell for him without you too, but now’s not the time to discuss that. he pushes the center of your panties to the side, sliding his fingers through your warm slick. you sigh and throw your head back against his shoulder, reaching down to steady yourself against his wrist. “feel good,” he questions, lips pressed against the side of your head in a small kiss. you nod, letting out a whiny “uh-huh”. he continues to softly get his finger wet, teasing you along the way.

once he’s deemed his fingers wet enough he inserts two at once, scissoring them in order to give you a good stretch. you bite your lip, remembering your vow of silence. your breaths come out in heavy puffs as you try not to moan. he continues to stretch you for just a bit longer before he’s inserting another finger and moving at a slightly faster pace. his fingers hit deep inside you and do wonders to fill you to the brim. your chest is heaving at your nearing climax. woozi knows you’re close by the small squeaking noises you’re making. he moves his fingers faster, adjusting his wrist so his fingers hit the deepest part inside of you, knowing it drives you mad. your back is arching off of his chest as he catapults you into your orgasm. “so good baby,” he’s whispering “so hot, want you to cum just like this. cum all over my fingers baby,” and at his command you do such. your eyes roll back and your mouth is open in a silent scream as woozi continues to move his fingers inside of you, helping you to ride out your high. 

your body is so exhausted the it slumps against woozi, sliding down on to the ground in front of the couch. realizing he isn’t finished with you, woozi leans forward spreading your knees baring them to his phone, who’s camera is still recording. you bend your neck to look up at him. he leans down, giving you a kiss before reaching down to slide your panties off of you completely. once he’s removed the garment he places a finger against your core, teasing your clit. you groan and toss your head back, resting against his knee. “quiet baby,” he warns, placing his free hand over your mouth. the fingers on his other hand begin rubbing harsher circles against you. he continues alternating between gentle and harsh touches before he inserts them again. it doesn’t take much for you to be launched into your second and third consecutive orgasms. 

he removes his hand from your core and places his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. his other hand has moved from you mouth to your head, petting you softly as you pant. woozi removes his fingers from his mouth and holds your chin so he can make eye contact with you. “one more baby, okay,” he asks gently, knowing it’s been a while since you’ve been intimate with one another. you lazily nod your head and lean your cheek against his thigh, turning every once and a while to leave a kiss or love bite.

woozi reaches down again, this time without restraint. he knows that if it’s going to be the last time you cum tonight he will make it the best. he’s moving his fingers at lightning speed, eliciting loud groans and whines from you. as he previously did before, he reaches his other hand up to your mouth, only this time pushing his two middle fingers in your mouth and down your throat. the fingers on your clit continue moving faster and harder throwing you to the brink of orgasm in seconds. your back is arched to a point that worries woozi, but he doesn’t dare stop. the wet, squelching sounds that are coming from you would normally embarrass you, but you feel like you’re experiencing everything out of body at the moment. tears and drool are running down your face as your pleasure reaches an almost fever pitch. woozi finally feels he needs to show you some mercy and pinches your clit in between his rubs.

your eyes cross one last time, as you are thrashing against woozi’s body. your thighs are shaking so violently you are certain you won’t be able to use them for days. a heat forms in your gut as you approach your climax and when it hits you see white, tossing your head back, the fingers in your mouth do little to muffle your screams and cries. woozi’s fingers continue to work at your core, gently swiping your clit every so often, making sure to rub the clear slick, pouring out of you, everywhere he can. 

once you’ve gotten through your high, woozi kisses your head, pets your sides and rocks you back and forth “you did so good,” he whispers in your ear. “i’m so proud of you, what a good baby,” he kisses your eyes and your nose before giving you a sweet kiss on the lips. you moan into the kiss and look up at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “ji,” you whimper, letting him know you’re not finished. “i know baby,” he smiles “i’m not done either,”

[after-witch]

Surrounded by Hunger [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Surrounded by Hunger [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You're an artist, with no muse. Until Mahito shows up on your back porch.

Word count: 3500ish

notes: yandere, mild body horror, reader is a trans male

“I want you to paint me,” Mahito says, with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. No smile, no leer today. Just a somber frown as he appears from nowhere--as he often does--and sits himself in front of you. 

The cool summer evening air would smell as clean as the breeze, but for the cigarette lazily perched in the ashtray on the edge of the porch. 

Smoking.  Your one vice. Or is it your eighth? You don’t keep much track of your vices, these days. If you did, you might actually try to quit them. But smoking is one of two current addictions that you can’t fathom letting go of right now.

The other one is sitting next to you.

"Like one of my French girls?” you murmur, lips quirking up. 

Mahito tilts his head towards you, still frowning. You wonder, idly, if he has an actual brain inside his skull. Do curses have brains? You’re not sure about the technicalities of how they function, but it’s not something you’d really like to ask Mahito, either.

But it’s like you can see his brain working from the minute movements of his body language. The body is one thing you’re usually good at reading, and you ought to be, considering your career. No one wanted paintings from someone who didn’t understand the basics of body movement.

“Ah,” he says, finally, with a small smile. “Titanic. Directed by James Cameron. 1997.” His smile gets a little perkier. On anyone else, that smile might look deranged. But it suits Mahito, you think.

“I liked the sinking part the best. The way they…” He flicks his fingers in the air, and makes an eerily accurate sound reminiscent of bodies banging against metal parts. “And the frozen baby!” He closes his eyes almost all the way, leaving just enough room for you to see his gaze slide over to you. “Humans do love representing their own misery, don’t they?”

Something squeezes in your chest. It might have been a barb about you and your work; and it might not have been. One of the trickiest things about Mahito was that you could never be sure when he was trying to hurt you, and when he wasn’t. 

The worst part was, you knew that it didn’t matter either way. It wasn’t like you’d ever ask him to leave. He knew that, too. Maybe that was the actual worst part.

He doesn’t elaborate on his statement. Instead, he leans his head back, looking at the darkening sky; the deep blue of the evening oozing away to make room for the blacker part of the night. His profile like this is fascinating--the way his hair seems to almost shimmer in the fading light, falling back against the side of his neck. 

“Well?” He asks.

You couldn’t say no. You were already imagining ways to capture him, like this. In profile, staring up at the sky with eyes that were anything but human. With a brain that was perhaps not a real brain. With a body he could change at will. 

Despite all that, here he is, sitting on your porch, breathing in your cigarette smoke and staring up at the ordinary evening sky.

What does he see that you don’t? That no human does? Why does he even come around you, when he could be off trying to--your brain fumbles for snatches of what he’s told you--battling sorcerers? 

Maybe you can capture something of the answer in your painting. 

“Okay,” you say, lightly, even though the answer is anything but. “But we have to go inside for the sketch. There’s not enough light out here this late.”

Mahito smiles. In profile, you see only the half of it, the edge of his lips curling, a glimpse of his teeth. 

You’ll be up all night sketching, trying to capture this expression. 

--

Your first finished painting of Mahito isn’t all that great. The evening skyline was done from memory because the next few days had been cloudy and they stole the sky’s normal colors away. And no amount of mixing could quite give you the right shade for his hair; you put something new on order, a type of shimmer pigment. That might help for future pieces.

The expression, though. There was something in that. Something not quite human that you managed to capture, although if you had to do it over, you’d reconsider taking your drawing from sketch to painting. The sketch had something raw to it, like Mahito might just turn his head and wink at you. 

As an artist, you knew that such a subject was rare. It was not always easy to find inspiration that kept you working almost relentlessly, eager and passionate rather than staring at an empty canvas and willing the world to send something to you.

Mahito was a gift, wasn’t he? To an artist. To someone like you, who needed something to make your work stand out. And it does, here. Mahito looks unusual--striking, beautiful, but with something unpleasant itching to get out from underneath his skin. 

But still. It’s flawed. 

And that’s not the standard artist humble-brag designed to avoid a reputation of pompous pride. Your paintings, as a whole, just aren’t good enough. 

It’s why the galleries rejected you. Why what few connections you had with other painters tended to fade away, becoming more and more untethered as they were invited to galas, as they held openings, as their works went to auction, and you…

You sat on your porch smoking and waiting, heart pacing, for a curse to show up on your door.

--

Mahito stands in front of the revealed piece, quietly observing it. His fingers reach out and skim the canvas, bumping along a few rough areas of paint. His mouth parts a few times, then closes. 

You expect him to be blunt with some kind of critique. He’s never been shy with honesty, no matter how hurtful. It was something you hated and loved all with one confusing, awful sameness.

Instead, his gaze flits over every square of the canvas enough times that sweat begins to bead down the back of your neck. Does he hate it? Is he about to tell you that you’d be better off doing something else, something more ordinary, something more mundane? 

No.

What he does is turn his head towards you, slowly, something that is not quite a smile on his face. An expression that makes you think of the back porch, sunsets and cigarette smoke. 

“Now do it again.”

--

You should hate this, really. Someone who sticks around and more or less demands that they be your muse. Most artists purge these types of people from their lives, unwanted flypaper hangers-on who pout and demand to be painted. 

But Mahito is your muse, and you don’t hate it, and you don’t think he’s clingy or desperate like others who have found themselves on your back porch before. 

He’s your muse simply because he exists. You could not fathom knowing Mahito and not committing him to the canvas. The only shock is that it was his idea, not yours; and maybe, deep down, you were too afraid to ever ask him. In case he said no.

So you draw him, and paint him. He drapes himself over your couch wearing nothing, spreads himself on your bed with winter clothes in the summer heat; perches on the end of the kitchen stool and watches gnats circle a bowl of bananas. 

The ideas are his, mostly. 

And the pieces are interesting. “Intriguing,” your regular art gallery said, when you submitted the one of Mahito sprawled out in a fuzzy scarf and hat and puffy winter coat while sweat clung to his forehead from the summer afternoon sun.

Interesting, intriguing, a striking model… and yet. They’re still not enough--not enough to get paid. Not enough to get noticed. 

Not enough to get you out of bed some days, when all you want to do is smoke lying down and hope the smoke alarm in your bedroom still has low batteries. 

This is how Mahito finds you this morning. Half-resting on sore elbows while smoke wafts up to your  ceiling, imperceptibly adding to the layers of brown and yellow build up. 

“Hey.”

He pokes your nose. You blink, slowly turn your gaze towards him. Then close your eyes and let out another puff of smoke.

“You’re being mopey,” he says, flatly. Not teasing or whining, certainly not with sympathy. Just a matter-of-fact. 

The options weigh heavy on your shoulders. It’s not like you two don’t talk about serious things. But God, with Mahito, the roles are reversed between artist and muse. You’re the clingy one, the one desperate to keep him around; afraid that the wrong word or gesture might make him blip out of your life as quickly as he came into it.

Who were you, if you didn’t have Mahito? Just another failing artist who could barely afford their cigarette addiction. 

But you trust him. Because he’s here. Because he hasn’t left yet. Because when you’re drawing him and you ask him to lift his arm up, he somehow knows the exact angle you mean, every time. So you lick your lips and look up at him with tired, reddened eyes.

“They’re not enough.” A pause. “The paintings, I mean. No one will buy them.” You drop the rest of your cigarette in the ashtray on your night stand. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

You do know, though. Your paintings aren’t interesting enough anymore. What little buzz you’d generated in your first break onto the scene from your fantastical horror work had long since faded, as had your inspiration for such pieces. 

It wasn’t enough to play with color and light, to perfectly capture the sun through an opaque curtain playing on Mahito’s hair while black flies buzzed onto overripe fruit. Of course not. People wanted more. You just weren’t more, now. If you were ever that. 

Mahito crawls onto your bed, languid; it’s not the first time he’s been so close, so intimate, but it gives you goosebumps nonetheless. He curls himself behind your back and runs a finger down your arm. 

“They like your older work,” he muses. You’ve ranted about this, and he apparently listened, which makes you feel at least a little least sour. “So why don’t you paint like that again?”

So much for feeling a little less sour. You curl inwards, eyes fixated on the dimming red glow of your cigarette in its tray. 

Mahito pokes your shoulder. Impatience. You can feel it building in him, in the way his arm muscles tense, just a little. When he gets bored, he sometimes leaves. 

You don’t want him to leave, so you force the words out, although you’d rather keep them private. Your mouth feels sticky when you talk, but you press on. 

“My old stuff was before…” You know he knows, but you’ve never pinned down a single way to explain it to him. “Before I figured myself out. Before a lot of things, I guess.” Mahito’s hand wraps itself around your stomach, and you reach out to intertwine your fingers. To keep him with you, if such a thing were possible.

“I haven’t had the same type of inspiration in a long time,” you admit. “So I don’t know how to just…” Flashes of your old canvases come to mind. Demons and ghosts and landscapes of terrible beauty. “Get back into that head space.”

There is a stretch of silence that begins to worry you. Maybe you are too boring, maybe you’re whining, maybe whatever this is has run its course and he’ll leave and you’ll have nothing to your name but this empty apartment and your empty life.

But then Mahito grips your shoulder and pushes you firmly, swiftly, onto your back. There’s a dull ache where he touches you and you stare up into his eyes, wide and bright even in the darkness. He’s grinning. He’s grinning, and it’s beautiful and ugly--

And on his side, arms sprout out; some with mouths sporting their own grins. Behind him, arms upon arms,  hands upon hands. A grotesque vision come to life in your dim apartment bedroom. You can see it now, on canvas. A creature with greedy hands outstretched to the world, taking what it wants, when it wants. 

You can see Mahito, posting, while you furiously work at the easel. You know you’ll work until your hands cramp, desperate enough to capture every microexpression in pencil before it fades. 

Mahito, the muse, painted again and again. Until your hands cramp, until your eyes are red and burning. 

“Does this inspire you?” he says, a bright giddiness in his tone fading into something lower and warmer as he leans down to capture your lips.

You’re not certain which of you tastes the most of ashes.

--

The paintings are perfectly grotesque. Inspirational. Disturbing.

“And yet,” the director continues, tapping his pen against his chin, “so life-like. You can hardly tell where the real model ends and your imagination begins.” 

Because, of course, humans cannot sprout extra limbs from their sides. Humans cannot stretch their tongues to wrap around their body like a rope. Humans cannot pull open the flesh of their stomachs to reveal what’s inside.

Not without dying, anyway. 

You’d almost asked Mahito if that was what curses looked like on the inside--if they had organs, like stomachs and lungs--but thought better of it. Knowing would be worse than pretending. 

When you pretend, you can ignore the growing sickness in your stomach as the paintings become worse--and better. As Mahito pushes you farther and farther, and you’re not sure if you want to turn back. 

When you pretend, life with Mahito doesn’t seem very fucked up at all. 

“Keep it up,” the director tells you, thumbing through the wad of ghastly cash he hands over for your latest piece. It’s enough to pay off your rent and bills and cover cigarettes and booze and some new books for Mahito, though you’re sure he just steals them when he’s not with you. 

And you do--keep it up.

Because Mahito wants to, and because despite all the disturbing dreams you begin to have after sessions of drawing and painting, your new works really are better. More visceral and alive; galleries want them. 

They want you.

You feel seen, finally, for who you are and what your hands can do--

How could you turn that away?

--

“I don’t know,” you say, slowly, watching the thing Mahito brought with him writhe on the table. 

It was soft and gelatinous, like a blob of moving goo. At first, that’s what you thought it was: something he scooped out of a container at a toy store that sold novelty slimes. 

But this wasn’t some gob of bright orange or neon blue with a telltale sticky sheen that told parents that yes, mom and dad, this was going to wind up sticking to the carpet by the end of the day.

This was light beige, with two big black spots that looked a bit like eyes. It was larger than you think a toy slime would have been and it--well it moved. Really moved. Not just from a slight breeze drifting in through the window or due to its own gelatinous nature.

It was--whatever it was--alive. 

It had eyes, and perhaps that bit of discolored beige was hair, and that was it. Two eyes, slick, shiny skin, and no mouth at all. 

“It’s a statement piece,” Mahito says simply, even happily, as he adjusts the blob to his liking on the table. He tries out a series of poses that you direct with hesitation--looking down at it with his chin resting in his elbow, holding it in his arms like some sort of stuffed bear, endless, restless poses, all punctuated by the strange writhing of the thing.

The two of you finally settle for Mahito looking one way, and the blob--were those its eyes?--facing another. A contrast between colors and shapes and Mahito’s lithe form and the writhing blob. But while there is a dim satisfaction in putting Mahito onto the canvas, a sense of self-worth and pride that grows with every stroke, you put off working on the blob until the last possible minute. Your body seems to know why, even if your mind doesn’t. 

At the end of the night, you start to ask a question that’s been on your mind the entire evening--

“Mahito?” 

But when he turns, a small smile on his face, blob in hand, the words die in your throat.

You say nothing as he leaves. You work a little more on the painting, avoiding half the canvas, not wanting to think about what it was that Mahito brought and why he brought it.

That night, you dream about a garden of squirming, writhing blobs.

--

Today, Mahito has no mouth. 

And today, you’ve decided, that this will be your last Mahito piece. No more. Not a single one. The singular lack of a mouth is not even as horrific as some of the other ways Mahito has posed for you, but somehow, it’s the one that terrifies you the most. 

Mahito has no mouth, and you can’t even ask him why.

Mahito has no mouth--

Mahito has no mouth, and he wants you to paint him.

He tells you this, in gestures. Maybe if he was over the top about it--if he was wildly waving his hands, if he made a game of it--then it wouldn’t make you feel so wrong. But he’s slow, methodical. Serious.

It makes your stomach clench on nothing but whisky and overcooked eggs. 

But you let him bring out one of your mirrors and set it up in front of a stool so you can paint him, looking at himself in the glass. There’s nothing else you can do but this, you realize; that’s what your life has come to. You are mingling with a curse and he could kill you in a moment if he wanted to--but right now, he wants you to draw him and paint him and put something monumentally distressing on the canvas. And you want to do these things--because he wants you to? Because you know the gallery owner is going to take one look at this last piece and ask you to open your own show? Love or ego or something awful and in-between?

You sketch quickly. It’s the final layers of painting that will take days, you think, if you want this to turn out right. Right now you’re worried about two things: capturing the tones while the light is just right, and how Mahito will react when you tell him you’re done after this.

It’s not like you can tell him now. He can’t even talk. 

What is it like, without a mouth? You bring cigarettes to your lips and wonder if he feels jealous of it. Would he get mad, if you told him you needed a drink? A snack? Eating and drinking--curses can do these things, and you’ve seen Mahito do them, but you don’t know how much of it is a want or a need. It’s hard enough to tell the difference with a human. 

If you had no mouth, what would you be? Your thoughts flit, briefly and then away again, to the blob. To its eyes. To the way it couldn’t stop moving and Mahito held it like a toy. 

You don’t want to think about that. 

It would feel wrong to talk while you work on this piece, you decide. Better to save it for when it’s finished. A few days, at most, with Mahito holed up in your bedroom--and no mouth at all. 

In these few days, you want to kiss him more than ever. Want to capture the memory of his lips, because surely, he’ll want to leave if you’re done painting him. Done being entertaining. 

The thought of kissing the awful, empty space where his mouth should be keeps you from even thinking about it.

--

It’s your masterpiece. You know this from the moment the last stroke is complete. You’ll never top this work, and some prideful part of you demands that you try, anyway. 

Mahito still has no mouth. Even as you pull the drape off the canvas, as he gets close to inspect it. 

“Mahito,” you say, suddenly. He doesn’t look at you. That’s better, you think. Makes it easier to stomach what will come next; the inevitable moment where Mahito drops you like an old toy. Usually it’s the other way around, an artist getting bored of its muse and flinging them aside. 

But you’re not bored of Mahito. You’re afraid of him. You want him here--but you don’t. It’s a big jumbled mess and maybe it would have been easier if he never showed up on your back porch, if you never saw him at all, if he hadn’t opened up some wound inside you that only he can stitch up. 

“Mahito,” you repeat. “I don’t think I can paint you anymore.” Stupid, weasel words. You cringe. “I mean. I don’t want to paint you anymore--after this one.”

Mahito tilts his head, and finally turns his eyes towards you--but still, there’s no mouth, no mouth, no mouth.

After a moment, you continue, mouth dry and sticking. “Did you hear me, I said I--”

Mahito’s hand slaps against your own, hushing you.

“Have you been wondering what it feels like?” It takes a few blearly, confusing moments for you to realize that Mahito is talking not with lips on his face, but on the hand that’s pressed over yours. “To be unable to speak?”

The awful thought hits you. Is your mouth even still there, under Mahito’s hand? 

Mahito leans in, and pulls his hand away. Slowly, like he’s revealing a prize .

“I want to paint you now,” he murmurs. He might even be cooing, eyes alight at what he sees as he lifts his hand. 

You want to answer him--you want to scream.

But you can’t say a word. 

[rrrrinmaru]

call me by my name (xavier x mc)

wc: 2058 rating: T

It was just something you had seen online. Call your lover by their name instead of the pet name that had almost become second nature to you—the reactions from the boyfriends and husbands of Linkon City were always so amusing. The more you watch these videos, scrolling idly through your phone as you lounged on the sofa on one of your rare off days, the more you want to test it on Xavier. 

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You can barely remember when the last time you called Xavier by his name—somewhere along the lines, maybe a few months into dating, you accidentally called him baby. 

You remember how it happened, even if you can’t place the exact date. The both of you were strolling down the streets of Linkon City, on the way to one of the cafes another Hunter had recommended to you. You remember the weight of his hand on your waist, gently guiding you along as you focused on the navigation panel on your phone, trying to suss out what exit you had to take in order to take the shortest path there. 

“You okay there?” Xavier murmured, a smile audible in his voice as he pulled you out of the way of some passer-by. “You’re squinting at the phone.”

“No, I got it,” you told him, even as you continued to furrow your brows at the screen and attempt the tried and tested method of lifting it up to the sky to get better signal, as if that would help your case. “Just give me a second, I think we need to turn somewhere up ahead, just—” you spoke, without really thinking it through, the words tumbling out of your mouth while your higher brain functions were wholly focused on reading the damn map, “—give me a sec, baby, I got it. We turn left in a bit, like—”

The fingers on your waist flexed. You looked up at him, barely registering the dilation in his pupils and the way his lips were parted, but you remember noticing the dazed look in his eyes. 

“Xavier? You okay?” 

“Hm,” He hummed, blinking out of his daze. “I’m good. No need to worry about me, just let me know when to turn.” 

And then he smiled at you, so disarmingly that you almost missed your turn.

Regardless, after that incident, Xavier teased you about the pet name until you gave in and repeated it in a quiet, shameful voice. Again, and again, until Xavier hooked you in by his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you stupid. 

From that day on, you didn’t really call him by his name. Which is why the thought of switching it up excites you. It’s so enticing that you even get up to hunt for your old phone, setting it up in a discrete location near the living room to record his reaction. You won’t publish it, not when the both of you are such private individuals, but you look forward to saving his reaction for future reference, and maybe even future blackmail. 

You wait in anticipation, instinctively checking the clock every few minutes to count down to Xavier’s return. As time passes, you get distracted by the latest novel on your phone and you’ve almost forgotten about your grand plan until you hear the familiar sound of a key turning in your lock.

Immediately, you fly to your hidden phone to click record, and then rush back to the sofa. Your heart rate spikes a little from excitement, and you struggle to tamp down the smile that threatens to surface. 

The door pushes open, and you’re greeted by the gorgeous sight of Xavier stepping through your door, groceries in hand. 

Gods help me, you think, fondness bursting from your heart so vividly at the domestic sight that you think you might drown, I love you.

“The queue was long,” Xavier says, a touch of complaint in his voice. He closes the door behind him, slipping the keys into his pocket as he toes his shoes off. “There was a problem with the self-checkout machines, so everyone had to wait in line at the normal cashiers.”

The pet name almost slips off your tongue. It’s so easy to say it, when he’s acting a little whiny like this—when he gets in the mood to be just a little, tiny little bit like he wants to be babied. 

“Aw,” you say in a commiserating tone. “Do you want any help with putting those away?”

Xavier looks at the bag in his hand, then looks at the way you’re curled up on the couch. “No. Stay there; you look comfortable. I’ll come join you once I’ve placed them away.” 

He lifts the bag, peering in as if to check the contents again. “I’ll be quick, so make sure there’s space for me once I’m done.”

“Okay,” you reply, fighting the urge to smile when Xavier lifts his gaze to look inquisitively at you. Usually, there would be a pet name trailing on the end of that sentence. You think Xavier can tell something’s a little off, but he can’t place his finger on it quite yet. 

He wanders to your kitchen—the groceries he bought, sitting in your kitchen so the both of you can cook in your kitchen later, before he takes a shower in your bathroom and changes into his clothes that take up half of your wardrobe. 

Everytime you’re reminded of how much he’s carved out a space for himself in your life, his presence so steady and solid that you’re almost surprised when he isn’t in your house, as if you’ve forgotten the both of you aren’t cohabitating. Yet. 

Xavier hums to himself as he puts the groceries away. His voice is light, like stardust carrying on the wind as it trickles over to where you are on the sofa. You sit up, eyes bright as you peek over the back of the couch to see him bustling about in your kitchen. He opens cabinets to set things aside, so sure of where things are that it makes your heart kick in your chest.

To be known so dearly, so deeply—you don’t think anyone’s ever known you like this, so certainly that it feels like he’s always been a part of your mind rather than someone you met a few years ago. 

“Xav,” you call out, folding your arms on the back of the sofa and pressing your face into your forearms to hide your smile, “could you help me get a drink?”

Xavier pauses. His back is to you, shirt riding up slightly as he stretches up to place a sack of flour in the cabinet above your countertop. You see him slowly move to push the flour further in, the bend of his long fingers as he ensures there’s no chance of the flour falling out when you open the cabinet later. 

Once he’s done, he turns around to face you. There’s a blank look on his face as he leans back, hip against the countertop while he folds his arms across his chest. 

“Xav?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I don’t think I know anyone by that name, princess.”

You have to smother your smile or it’ll show on your face. Going from the way Xavier’s lips are curving up of their own accord, though, you don’t think you’re doing a very good job. “It’s your name, Xav. Xavier. Could you help get me a drink from the fridge?”

“Hm.” Xavier drags the sound out, rolling it on his tongue. He gives you a long, contemplative look. “No, princess,” he says mildly, looking faintly amused. “I can’t. I don’t know who you’re talking to.”

“Xavier,” you repeat, tilting your head as you blink up at him. “A drink, please?”

He chuckles, Xavier moves in this slow, languid way as he unfurls his arms and walks over. His eyes are a little dark, lips upturned in a knowing smile as he makes his way to the sofa. There’s this look in his gaze, this knowing look that makes you feel transparent with how he sees right through you. As he nears you, you take your arms off the back of the couch and lean back.

You can’t help it. The way he looks at you is filled with such intent that it takes your breath away. Your heart thumps in your chest, like you’re nothing more than a prey animal confronted by its natural predator. A little bunny’s heart jackhammering away in your chest. 

And then he places the flat of his palms against the back of his couch, far apart enough that he can brace himself against it as he leans down, enough for the collar of his shirt to droop and for you to get a good look at the slant of his clavicle. He’s so close, leaning over you as you sit there on the couch, and you swear you can feel the puff of his breath against your lips.

You can’t focus on just one thing. The flutter of his eyelashes as he looks at you, the softness of his cheeks, the half-moon curve of his parted lips—and his eyes, as blue as the sky, glittering with a promise as he stares down at you.

“That’s not my name, princess,” Xavier breathes out. “You know what my name is in this household.”

In the back of your mind, you wonder what you look like right now. Your eyes must be dilated. Your mouth is open from shock, and your fingers are trembling from where they are clutched around the pillow in your lap. Your heart trips over itself, throbbing so violently that you feel lightheaded. 

If you leaned up, just a little, you would be able to press your lips against his. You know you could. The distance between your lips is almost negligible, so close you think you can feel the skate of his lips against yours. 

It’s a tease. You know he’s teasing you right now, the way you teased him, and you can’t help but fall headfirst into his trap. You walk right into it, eyes wide open and conscious as you let yourself get tied up, as you let yourself drown in that swallowing, all-encompassing gaze. 

“What is it?” Your eyes drop to his lips before crawling back up to meet his gaze. 

“I only answer to baby,” Xavier murmurs, mouth curving in a smile. “That’s what you call me, princess.”

You smile, eyes crinkling as you peer up at him. “Baby.”

Xavier lets out a low laugh that sends your insides tumbling. “That’s my girl,” he says, and leans down right as you reach up to press your lips together.

You sigh, eyes closing as you sink into the kiss, and he swallows the sound with relish. One hand reaches up to cup your jaw, pulling you in so he can fit his mouth to yours, tongue slipping between your lips. His thumb presses against your skin, gently stroking the underside of your jaw, and you instinctively reach up to curl your fingers into the collar of his shirt. 

“C’mere,” you say in between kisses, gasping for breath. “There’s space—here, on the couch.”

“Mmhmm.” Xavier glances down, eyeing the space between your legs, the obstructive cushion on your lap, and steadies one hand on the back of the couch. “A little tight, but we’ll make it fit.”

He lets his gaze wander back up to you, and gives you a knowing smile. “We always make it fit, don’t we, princess?”

You get the sense he isn’t really talking about the sofa, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks as he vaults over the couch to settle between your thighs. The cushion is removed, flung away from the sofa with a vengeance you didn’t know Xavier possessed, and then he presses his weight down on you, one hand on your waist with the other curving around the back of your neck to hold you in place as he noses along your cheek, and you stop getting distracted by irrelevant things like where your cushion is, or whether he put away all the groceries that need to be refrigerated, at the very least. 

And an hour later, when you’re both out of breath, it occurs to you that your phone’s still recording. 

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 5

Prostate Massage | Blindfold | Cages

Pairing: Satoru Gojo X Reader

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere/controlling behavior, drugging, captivity, panic attack

He’s missing again.

This is more surprising than one might think – Gojo, for all his whimsical tendencies, doesn’t typically slack on exorcizing curses.

It’s why they think he’s just going off the grid for a bit to take care of some other business – goodness knows he drags in enough sorcerer children to the school.

But it’s been a while, and no one’s heard from him.

If he had meant to defect, he would surely have done it when Suguru Geto was still alive. So this must be another fit of arrogance, running off and doing whatever he pleased. It was annoying, but who could stop him? He was, after all, the strongest sorcerer in the world.

Certainly, no one was expecting to find Satoru Gojo in a cage inside your basement.

You’re not a sorcerer, after all. No one Satoru knew or had ever known would even know your name, much less where you live and that Satoru was with you.

You don’t even bother visiting him for the first few days. There’d be no point. He’d try to convince you this was a bad idea (it probably was) and to let him go (you absolutely could not, not under any circumstances). He probably wouldn’t lie – you never thought him to be the type, even if his life were truly on the line – but nothing he said would be of any use to you.

He’d already said enough when under the influence of those helpful substances you slipped him. You’d gone through a few before you found one that made him pliable enough to repeat the words you needed.

A binding vow. One that would keep him here, and keep him tame, for as long as you wanted.

Oh, you’re sure he was terribly confused for those first few days. Wondering what kind of curse or curse technique had him trapped in there. Poor baby was probably bored to death, too, if anything you knew about him was correct.

But it would take a while to get to him, to get him to the place he needed to be. And you had all the time you needed.

After all, good things come to those who wait.

You open the door, a thrill in your heart at the thought of just how excited Satoru Gojo is going to be to see you.

The worst part is, you’re right.

Satoru’s been stuck in here for three days now. He is, frankly, bored. Worse than bored. He’s sort of going insane.

It’s not like he needs to use the restroom, or even eat. Sorcerers – anyone who could use reverse curse technique, really – had ways to suspend bodily functions and stuff like that, for use on long missions, in extreme environments, or domains with weird effects.

So, no. He’s not hungry, or thirsty, he doesn’t need to use the restroom. That’ll catch up with him eventually, of course, but it’s not a problem right now.

The problem right now is that someone was powerful enough to trap him in here, had some weird power that stopped him from escaping, but they just. Left him.

All. Alone. In the dark. Even with the six eyes, it was dark in here. He can tell where the door is, but the light level is far beneath what a normal human could see. There’s almost no sound. No cursed energy at all. Nothing interesting in the room to stare at, nothing moving.

It was a weird, surreal sort of experience, for about ten minutes. Hard to tell even how much time was passing. Just the sound of his breath and the thoughts knocking around in his head. He didn’t get time like this often, didn’t just sit down and think. It cleared his head in a strange way – no more migraines, no more constant analyses from his six eyes, no more reverse curse technique constantly healing his brain.

Like taking off a weight he hadn’t noticed was there to begin with. He felt lighter, so many physical demands suddenly lifted from his body. A breath of fresh air.

Fresh air got old pretty fast, when most of his thoughts kept coalescing on Why can’t I use my curse technique and What the hell is going on? At first, there was even fear, too – he wasn’t totally crazy – but after that?

This is just boring. He’s never been so bored in his entire life. His brain feels like it’s rattling in his skull, waiting to drop out the next time he tilts his head. Satoru is about ready to start banging it against the bars just to have something to listen to.

So when you open the door, light suddenly flooding in from a crack (it’s bright enough to make him wince, with his eyes), Satoru Gojo is entirely focused on you, in an instant. Taking in every single detail about your body, your voice, your cursed energy and cadence.

It’s amazing, how much you can learn when you pay attention.

He learns that you’re not a sorcerer. That he’s not kept here by any curse technique or tool – rather, it’s by a binding vow. One that only you can release. You’d drugged him through his infinity using a knockout gas and gotten his half-conscious self to repeat specific words to make the vow.

He learns you think you’re doing this to help him, save him.

“I just don’t think you’re that strong. I mean, it was easy enough for me to get you like this, right? And I’m not a sorcerer at all.”

His eyes are fixed on you like shattered sapphires. You’re insane – you must be – but it isn’t every day some insane person manages to get one over on him.

Maybe the reason you were able to get this far with him was because you were so crazy.

“For your whole life, you’ve had to be strong.” Your eyes soften; he can discern your features on a microscopic level, the tiny flecks of warmth and concern, “But you aren’t. And you don’t have to try anymore. I’ll protect you.”

Something weird twists in his guts.

There’s lots of kinds of crazy in Jujutsu sorcerer. He’s no stranger to it. But this kind of crazy? He’s never seen it before.

Love is the most twisted curse of them all.

And that is what you tell him, that you love him. You continue by telling him all sorts of funny things – that you’re taking care of him now, getting him back on track, this is for his own good, yada yada.

It’s definitely crazy person speak, but it’s new and refreshing that it’s directed towards him. And maybe because it’s so novel and fun, he goes ahead and sits back and enjoys it.

Like, he tries to tell you he’s important. People to protect, students to teach, all that stuff. You just dismiss him, tell him he’s weak, tell him he doesn’t know what’s best for him. He wasn’t meant for sorcery – his life will be better, now.

(Somewhere in the back of his head, he realizes with a belated horror, that this is what he sounds like to other people.)

 It’s funny, though, it is. He laughs at you (you smile, though, because you’re delusional like that, even if you can tell he’s mocking you), at the thought that he could be meant for anything but sorcery.

And hey, it’s not like he’s got anywhere to be. Anywhere he can be. He’ll give it a try.

Although it’s not so much a try as endure the very carefully calculated daily plans you lay out for him. You’ve got a lot of free time – probably some work-from-home position – and a lot of money, too.

(Great taste in body wash also. Amber and honeysuckle or something. He’ll have to remember it when he gets out of here.)

The room he’s in is special in that it’s painted a gentle off-white color, and sparsely decorated. His little cage is large enough to fit him just sitting down, tall as he is, and it’s large enough for a cot in the corner. It’s kind of cozy, he’ll admit, in a camping kind of way.

When you send him to bed – yes, like an actual child – he finds out the cot is a lot softer than he’d expected, some kind of memory foam he’s never tried. The sheets are extra cooling, the pillow feels like a dream, the room is pitch black and chilly. It only takes him a few minutes of moody contemplation to start drifting off after he lays down.

Sleep training, you’d called it. Satoru’s pretty sure he’d be offended if he actually knew what it was.

“You have your healing powers, sure,” (when he’d interrupted you to tell you it was reverse curse technique you’d paused and waited out his explanation like a champ), “But there’s no substitute for a good eight hours of sleep, Satoru.”

Your voice is stern and laden with something he can’t quite get, but it doesn’t matter anyways. He’ll be out soon.

It’s interesting, lying down inside the cage. This room is so small. It’s all fitted just for him, perfectly sized to leave neither empty space nor squeeze him too tight. His world is reduced to this cage and the things you choose to put in it.

He’s quick to complain about the boredom, but you don’t mind his whining. You actually hook up several game consoles to a small TV set carefully placed at head height for him, sitting up, with controllers you hand him through the bars.

“I’ll have to limit your screen time – it’s not good for your eyes. It’s probably even worse for the six eyes. So I’ve got a collection of books here, and an e-reader, so you can get anything you want. Oh! I’ve also brought some puzzles.”

Yaaawwwn. You don’t even flinch at his exaggerated expression of boredom, promising instead to find more complex puzzles online to entertain him. Rubik’s cubes, jigsaws – these things bored him. He put everything together right away.

You find a puzzle made in braille, one that has to be put together by touch. Brain teasers that required out-of-the-box thinking… you’d even brought him a jigsaw puzzle with a mixed up image printed on it, one that couldn’t be put together by the visuals at all. He had to hand it to you, that was neat.

There’s almost an amusement in watching how diligent you are about finding things to entertain him with. The video games, the books, the puzzles, some TV, too. He’s half worried that you stole his collection of movies, but it turns out you just have some streaming services. It’s fun enough to kill time. Human Earthworm 4 really was garbage.

You laugh when he tells you so. Your defense of the dumb movie is that it was half-parody (you are correct), and he tells you with a sniff that you have no taste, and you laugh, and his stomach feels funny.

Clearly the isolation is getting to him, if you feel like decent company.

He takes meals with you, too, and you’re particular about them. No more mochi for breakfast and dinner, no more coffee at all actually – “It’ll interfere with your rest,” – instead, you make him eat ‘real food’.

Complete, home-cooked, admittedly delicious meals. They’re all way more palatable than most things he eats, all foods he likes, he ends up liking… at first he didn’t want to try, but you’d dangled so many sweet looking deserts over his head – specially made mochi, fresh souffles and macarons, carefully crafted crystal candies.

Ugh, you know way too much about him. And you look so pleased with yourself, too. He wonders if you make them yourself – so he asks, and watches your face blush lightly, watches you smile, eyes softening as you look at him in that way he doesn’t get.

Isolation. It’s getting to him. Definitely.

“And of course, I’ll be here to allow you socialization time. We could play games together, or if you want, we could read the same books? Or just talk, if you like. I’m not letting you out, but I’d be happy to hear about your life from before, your likes and dislikes. You can make requests, too!”

Normally he’d be all like “No way, creepy kidnapper,” seriously. But to be honest, he’s kind of looking forward to a chance to pick your brain.

You seem all too happy to oblige. Delighted that he’s taking an interest in you, which is kinda cute and pathetic, since it’s totally not what’s happening. He just wants to know how the hell you got to be so fucking weird.

“I think love makes us all a little crazy, don’t you? As for why I love you, Satoru… well. I couldn’t pick only one reason. Suffice to say, I’m really happy to be talking to you now. It probably sounds weird to you, but being around you just these past few days has been awesome for me. Being around you just brings me so much joy. I want to make it good for you, too!”

Yeah, to be honest, it’s really weird how accommodating you are. You let him out for bathroom breaks at regular intervals – he’s still not sure why you put him in the cage at all –

“Oh, the cage? That’s for your benefit, not mine. Obviously this room is locked. But I think you… it’s difficult to explain. But your awareness of the space around you is warped somehow. I constantly see you nap in awkward places, sit or lean in positions that would stress your body out, zone out from your surroundings. I think it’s important to reset your senses.”

It’s creepy at this point. Or it would be, if it hadn’t blown wayyy past that part.

He likes that you don’t press him much. You just confess your love and go on about your day. No expectations, no freak outs. You’re crazy but you’re obviously not so crazy you think he loves you back. You just think you’re trying to do the right thing by him, which is like, really sweet, in a super weird and demented way.

Satoru had already decided that he doesn’t want to go after you once he gets out of here. You’re not malevolent, even if some distant part of his mind knows that people are dying while he’s chilling out in here.

No, you’re just lonely, and you’ve somehow attached yourself to him with this completely delusional idea that you understand him on a deeper level, and you wanted to protect him. Wasn’t that sweet? The cutest thing?

He can’t really bring himself to be mad at you. Not when you’re probably the only person on earth who’s ever thought this about him, who tried to do something about it. And it’s a damn good try, he’ll give you that.

The cage really isn’t that small. It’s comfortable in here, actually, it’s nice. It’s simple and easy in a way that would be boring if you didn’t give him company, entertainment, meals. The bed is so easy to fall asleep in, he has more energy waking up, he’s happier,

He gets where you’re coming from. You’re still totally insane, of course, but he sees the idea behind it. It’s not the space that he’s in. It’s what’s happening in that space.

It’s his time. And you seem to have so many ways to occupy it.

He starts thinking about you more and more. It gets weirder. He runs into you fresh out of the shower, no clothes on, watches the blush on your face and feels himself –

No. No, no no. It’s not a big deal. It’s whatever. He knew you were crushing on him. You’d made absolutely no secret of your feelings, and he knows the attraction is there, he can tell.

So maybe he sneaks in a hand job or two during these lonely nights. Purely for fun. It’s your fault for not stimulating him enough!

Are you watching on camera? That’s what all the stalkers do. You’re totally a stalker, you know way too much about him. You have all his skincare, shampoo, and conditioner in the bathroom.

You’re totally watching him. He licks his lips while he jerks himself. If he listens hard enough he can hear your breath in the other room.

(Turns out you’re all the way down the hall, but he’s got the six eyes, not the six ears.)

He could put on a show for you, even. His dick gets harder at the thought. He wonders if you’ve thought about this. If you watch him in the cage touching himself. If you want to be in here with him. In the room, or in the cage.

Would you want to touch? The thought absolutely tickles him, has him twitching in his hands, licking his lips. Would you want him so badly? You’re so dedicated, so diligent about his welfare. He could just imagine your pretty lips opening right up, how hot and wet your mouth would be, how those eyes of yours would look at him, always so full of care and affection.

Your hair looks soft, silky even – what would it feel like in his hands? Are you so crazy for him you’d let him fuck your face, or would you guide him through it, like you guide him through everything?

A pulse, another pulse, throbbing in his fist. Your hands would be smaller, softer. What would they feel like on his bare skin? He’s gotten more skin-to-skin contact these paste few weeks than the past ten years. What would you feel like on him? How would you touch him, where?

How would you look at him? He thinks of your face – of your eyes when you smile at him – he feels a squeeze –

When he cums, he does it with an exaggerated moan, head tilted back, lips wide and open. Spurting all over his hand as he makes a little blissful sigh.

He looks up, where he imagines a camera might be, eyes half-lidded. Smirk fighting to tear his lips as he closes them around his fingers, licking them clean.

Maybe you weren’t watching, but that doesn’t stop him. Not from giving you looks the next day.

There’s something in his chest. Wobbling around. Something knocked loose. He finds himself waiting for you to visit, impatient between meals. Demanding. You give, and give of course, but you never give any indication that you’ve seen what he did.

Actually… that was probably his way out.

He tries to proposition you, of course. Lays it on thick. But you hesitate to accept. You blush, and he thinks cute, he thinks he’s got you, but you act like you’re too good for him or something, like you’re not sure if you really want to be with him.

Like you’re too good to be seduced by him? When you fucking kidnapped him in the first place? You don’t want to come in here in the cage you put him in?

It makes him acidic. The rattling in his chest feels like the rattling in his head, only, his tolerance has gotten so much lower.

It’s not long before he snaps at you.

“What?” He says cruelly, words escaping him without his will, “You didn’t think I liked you or anything, did you?”

There’s something mean in his voice, something awful that curdles in his chest. He brandishes it like a sword. Swinging at you, carving sorrow over your features.

“You fucking kidnapped me.” The words come as a surprise even to him, but it was true, wasn’t it? “I’m not here willingly. You’re keeping me here against me will, you’re not helping me. Did you think I’d forget?”

(He can’t even convince himself of that lie. He knows he’d forgotten.)

You look at him, something strange in your eye.

“…If you want to leave, then leave.” You say, and he feels it, like the click of a lock, the crunch of a shackle. How the Binding Vow unwinds in an instant. “I’m not going to drag you back. It’s pointless to keep you here if you hate it so much.”

He tells himself he darted straight out. He didn’t hesitate for a single moment.

But he can’t tell himself that he didn’t look back. That would be too blatant a lie.

He tries not to think about the look on your face, empty and indifferent. He tries not to think about how it felt like a knife to his chest.

And just like that, he’s back. And –

“Gojo? About time you showed up. There’s several special grades waiting for you to exorcise. Where the hell were you? Okkotsu has barely been able to help out your other students.”

His students. His precious students, the ones who needed him, the ones he was preparing to take over the Jujutsu world –

God, the world is so big, isn’t it? It feels so vast and massive now, like he’s suddenly stepped into the shadow of a terrible monolith, blocking out the sun. It doesn’t feel like the first daylight he’s seen in weeks. This light is blinding, like a shadow convalesced.

“Gojo, do you hear me? I’m sending Ichiji over with the car.”

And there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, dragging him down in a way he normally doesn’t feel. This isn’t something that bothers him. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why.

He likes fighting. He likes sorcery, and he’s good at it. Exorcizing curses, beating curse-users to shit. It’s fun. He’s so strong that it’s not a risk anymore, just something to do with his overpowered abilities, and that’s cool. He’s not afraid, not in any universe.

So why does the voice asking him when he’s going to go kill these curses fill him with a sudden, inexplicable nausea?

Why does the thought of having to do this again, all over again, always on repeat, have the pit of his stomach burning? Like there’s a pressure on his shoulders that he knows he can’t relieve.

Satoru knows he has to do this. He’s the only one who can. Other sorcerers are weak – many of them would die. For some of these special grades, it’s him or nothing, with the lives of regular civilians on the line.

Each thought sends his stomach churning. He has to. He has to. He has to do it he has to go he has to he can’t avoid it. Today and tomorrow and the next day, too, over and over and over again.

The sky – it’s so big. So massively big, so wide and yawning, he feels like he’s falling into it. His head is pounding, information flooding back through his senses. One special grade, two, three or four – he has to teleport to them, exorcise them. He has to teach his students. He has to report to the elders. He has to – he has to – there’s so much, so much to do –

The six eyes are screaming at him, the sky is screaming, light burning into his retinas it’s too bright. Too fucking bright out here.

His legs carry him to a nearby wall. He’s leaning against it, now, breaths coming heavy and labored.

And then, it comes. He’d only been half expecting it – part of him still probably thought he was invincible, untouchable.

And he’s right. Nothing is touching him. It just feels like his skin is crawling for no reason. Pins and needles, electric adrenaline racing through every last nerve fiber in his body.

He’s simultaneously too strong and feverishly weak, collapsing against the wall. Gravity feels like it’s pulling harder, off balance, only it shouldn’t be. He should be fine, he should be able to move his limbs however he wants, they shouldn’t feel gangly and overresponsive and desperately twitchy.

His heart shouldn’t be trying to beat itself out of his chest. His lungs shouldn’t feel like they’re on fire. He shouldn’t have alarm bells going off his head, his limbs burning hot with too much energy and not enough.

Between ragged breaths he catches a faint, familiar scent, warm like sunlight –

“Satoru?”

It’s – it’s – it’s you, you’re back, and something awful in his chest jumps with irrational delight, a weight shifting on his shoulders, almost lifted. He tries to control his racing pulse, stammer through your name –

A mind, indifferent gaze meets his eyes. It freezes him in place. All his anxiety swinging on a precipice.

“Is something wrong?” A voice that betrays no emotion, no affection, no hidden longing. No I missed you, or I’m happy to see you, or I hope you weren’t lonely while I was gone.

He’s going insane, he must be going insane, but with all the adrenaline shooting through him, limbs trembling, he’s barely able to keep himself upright against the wall.

“Don’t – don’t you – ” Insane, insane, he knows he’s delirious while he’s saying this, why is he saying it, but his body is acting on his behalf, mind paralyzed with fright, “Don’t you want me?”

How could he sound so – needy? So forlorn? You’d fucking kidnapped him, he should be afraid, he should be angry, if anything.

(Maybe that was his fault from the beginning. He’d never really been quick to anger. Never been one to fear others, either. Deep down, the only thing that had ever hurt him was being left behind.)

Even the six eyes cannot discern your tone, “I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried to make things work with you. You didn’t want it.”

He didn’t, of course he didn’t, you were keeping him fucking captive. He knows this, the information is there in his mind, but his body won’t stop shaking. The sky is too big, the street is too broad, too many bodies, too much cursed energy, every object in every direction overwhelming his senses.

It feels like a migraine. It feels like his legs are about to give out under him, no solid earth to be found. Too big it’s too big he wants to go –

“Unless… you want to come back?”

Satoru knows he doesn’t. He knows the answer is no. He knows that you fucked him up, that this is a consequence of your captivity directly, that he should be able to overcome this if he just bears with it –

I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried.

“Please,” His voice says without his permission, “I want…” To go home. Take me back. Don’t leave me.

Relief floods the entirety of his quaking form as soon as you smile.

“Of course, Satoru,” Your eyes soften, and against all rationality, he feels like he’s made the right choice, “Take my hand. Let’s go home.”

He’s messed up, this is messed up. He’s better than this! He isn’t stupid, he knows what you’re doing! He has the six eyes, for fuck’s sake, he’s the strongest sorcerer in the world!

You’re not strong, Satoru. You only think you are, and I understand why. The whole world has been telling you this forever. But you aren’t, and that’s okay. I’ll protect you.

He doesn’t have to be the strongest sorcerer. Not if he doesn’t want to. He can go back where it’s dark and comfortable and warm, and he can be Satoru Gojo, your cherished pet.

He looks at you, six eyes blinding him, headache burning though his skull. He thinks of how close and soft and safe that place was. How you stayed with him for hours and hours on end. He never had to be alone.

Nothing has ever felt as right as your hand clasped with his own.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: cowboy to the rescue

pairing: nash hawthorne x reader

synopsis: you’re having a panic attack and losing control but nash is there to help you through it

warning: mentions of a panic attack

a/n: thanks for reading 🤍🤍 and sorry it’s a little short, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather - a very special thank you to you all for wanting to be on my tag list :)

No this couldn’t happen, not here and not now. But it was happening here and now. Your chest is tight and you could feel your palms sweating. Breathe. You try to tell yourself. Just breathe. But you couldn’t. It was like your lungs had lost the ability to and your brain wasn’t functioning as it should. You sink to the floor, now unable to keep yourself up straight, the panic seeping into every pore and cell of your body. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Your heart was thumping loud and fast and out of control. Any faster and you thought it might explode. Your ears begin to ring and you’re aware you’re shaking. Colours and sounds are all blurring into one merged mess and you’re petrified because you can’t get back to normal. You’re begging your brain, sobbing and praying, for normal to arrive again but time and time again your system fails and gives in to an overriding panic.

You felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around you and you’re guided onto someone’s lap. As soon as you smell the blend of smoke, leather and cologne you know exactly who it is and your heart rate slows just a tad. Nash takes your hand into his and gently draws spirals on each of you palms, methodically, rhythmically. He hums a recognisable but undefined tune rocking back and fourth slowly.

“Breathe darlin’,” he whispers in your ear, “I got you.”

But you couldn’t. It wasn’t that easy. Breathing was now seemed the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest.

“C-can’t,” you manage to say, through heaving breaths.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, “I know it’s hard but you have to try, for me okay?”

You nod shakily.

“In,” he instructs, squeezing your hand, “and out,” he says loosening his grip, “your turn now.”

You look into his eyes, showing him the fear and vulnerability written in them. His face softens and he delicately traces a thumb across your jawline. You exhale slowly and take his hand.

“In…. and out. In… and out.”

You squeeze his hand and let go, in a pulsating manner. For every breath in and out, for every hand squeeze, your heart slowed just a little, the knot in your chest loosened slightly.

“You’re doin’ so good darlin’, keep goin’,” he replies, stroking your cheek.

You keep doing the same, little by little. One baby step at a time. You stay in Nash’s strong arms, your hands in one another’s.

“You’re doin’ so well,” Nash tells you, kissing your temple gently, “feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly.

“You’re safe,” he murmurs, “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.”

His voice was so soothing, so calming.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He puts his palm over your racing heart, and presses firmly. Not so much as to hurt, but enough to let you know he was there. That he wasn’t leaving. And that’s what you needed. Someone to stay.

a/n: credit to @strangergraphics-archive for the divider

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