#(Implied Lee!Moon)

[idkmanwtfishumanityanymore]

tumblr won’t let me reblog with the video so uh. Here🫠👍

this is what I’m talking about. Especially Sun pleading for it to stop and give him a sec because he’s about to faint??? And Moon repeating that he can’t breathe???? Come on, folks. also can we talk about Davis’ weird Guinea pig laugh??? THE SQUEAKING?!?!? I just.. *dies*

[anxious-lee-ler]

Moon calling Monty a crocodile even though he's an alligator, and Monty appearing behind Moon telling him he'll see him in 30 minutes. Biiig ler energy! And since we know Monty canonically tickles Earth, it's safe to say that Sun, Moon, and Lunar have been tickled by the gator as well. AND Moon saying it again as Monty walks away- I'm- MAN IS ASKING FOR IT

[3 scary games #666 <> starting at 5:18]

[coy-lee]

I forget what prompted this doodle but idk I love the concept of Tiny Trash Man skeedadlin around the daycare with Moon doing his goofy tippy tap run searching for him. XD

Also diVo smirking with Moon pulling his "eating laughter" card lol.

[yallmakemyassitch]

Can you draw Peter wrecking the UNDEAD SOUL out of Andy? Along with giving his belly raspberries?

//Intense tickles, torture (gotta add these since it's pretty uhH- extreme, wanted to keep up Peter's character of someone sinister and omnipotent, so why not make Andy laugh till his voice is raw?)

Enjoy! I certainly had a killer time drawing these (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

A dead soul's dystopia ☠️

gave peter eyelashes cuz he's a pretty boy

[adorajpg]

ᡣ𐭩 @serenitys sent : ❛  careful, i’m feeling a little sore already.  ❜   also   darmiu   thank   u

if darcy tends to get a little carried away with miu, well, could you blame him? she was an angel, his princess, she deserved to be treated well and better than anyone could give her. her warning doesn’t go unheard, no matter how softly she speaks through her smile. settled in bed with wandering hands, darcy can’t quite stop touching miu even after a night together.

“are you?” darcy’s own voice is hushed, peeking up at miu through dark lashes, pressing a kiss to her waist before he straightens up from between her legs. fingertips brush over her thighs, touch remaining as soft and as gentle as he can keep it. “I’m sorry, baby. i'll be gentler with you, I promise."

[avaf00rd]

viral video

Leah Williamson x reader

Paris, France • 25 September

Leah watched you and giggled like a schoolgirl, sinking into the cloud-like duvet whilst you danced around the small hotel room.

‘Cry to me’ by Solomon Burke played through your girlfriend’s small speaker, a classic that you had known the lyrics to your whole life.

The glass of champagne that was being held in your hand as you danced and sang was spilling on the carpet the more you went on, only adding to Leah’s tipsy giggles.

“Ooh play stand by me!” You jumped on the bed pulling the hand of your girlfriend off the bed and back onto the carpet with you

“Okay just wait” she said turning around back to her phone to search for the song on her playlist. When the song started to play you aggressively pulled her arm back towards you. Causing it to also yank the champagne glass she held in her hand “y/n!” Leah whined, corners of her lips turning up the slightest, “that’s where we are sleeping!”

“Your pillow not mine” you shrugged cheekily as you pulled her close to you “now enjoy the moment” champagne still in hand as you wrapped your arms around her neck, keeping her closer.

Leah Hummed in content against the side of your head, before using her position to her advantage so she could easily pull you in for a kiss.

The kiss was slow, and expressed with a million love thoughts, a smile felt by both of you against your lips when you tried to pull away and Leah wouldn’t let you. “Okay now you have to dance with me” you said once Leah finally let you pull away from her lips. “Take your robe off” you said pulling at it’s strings

“No you cheeky girl” Leah laughed “I’ve got nothing on and you haven’t shut the windows”

“Why not. I’m in little pyjamas and your in that massive robe”

“Does it make me look massive?” Leah said with a childish pout

“Shut up no” you said moving her hands so they were holding yours, slowly guiding her to dance with you. “See not terrible?” You laughed looking straight into her eyes

“No not terrible at all” Leah playfully huffed

With interlocked hands, you and Leah slowly danced, with the incorrect footwork and Leah tripping slightly nearly every step, but you felt so happy in this moment, just as ‘I only have eyes for you’ by the Flamingos started to play on your girlfriend’s phone.

“This will be playing at our wedding” you smiled at Leah

“First dance?”

“No I haven’t thought it that way yet. The first dance song has to be perfect to a tee” you said

“Any song. I’ll still be the happiest wife in the world” Leah whispered lovingly

“No ones holding you back from proposing Lee” you shrugged and raised your eyebrows, Leah rolling her eyes, a manner she kept up every time you brought that up

“Hush” Leah cooed at you as she held your head into the crook of her neck for a moment whilst you continued to dance

“I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright” you sing with a smirk on your face, implying that you would both start singing the rest of the song now

“I only have eyes…” Leah sang softly, sometimes embarassed to sing, but you found it angelic when she did. She looked deep into your eyes like she would find the meaning of the existence in them, before she dipped you slowly “for you” she sang the last part, as your head tilt back giggling once she pulled you up

“The moon may be high”

“but I can’t see a thing in the sky”

“And I only have eyes” you both sang together, giggling slightly “for you-“ before you cut both of you off in an instance as you kissed Leah passionately in the moment, she dipped you back once again. Melting at the way you pulled away from her lips to laugh from how low she had your back

“I love you forever” She told you

“My girl I love you forever”

“C’mon keep dancing with me” Leah smiled before spinning you around.

Two weeks later, preseason was officially over and you were doing some final training before you and your teammates would get on a plane to America for the preseason tour.

“Thank you darling” Leah said to you, in the dining room as you brought over a plate of breakfast for her along with yours, her’s consisting of scrambled eggs and tomato sauce, and your’s an omelette with avocado and sweet potatoes. Some of the things Leah despised.

“You’re blowing up!” Katie said, bursting in dramatically through the doors from the hall, pointing at you and your girlfriend

“What you on about?” Leah asked, focused on getting her egg on the fork

“The sweet video. Aw it’s cute!” Beth exclaimed from the other side of the room getting her own food

“What video now I’m scared” you said trying to look at Katie’s phone as she brought it down to show you two

A TikTok with a whopping one million likes was playing, and it was of you and Leah in the window of your Parisian hotel room filmed by a random person, captioned ‘found the most ADORABLE couple in Paris and it made my day’. You could only faintly tell it was you. But fans had apparently put two and two together and instantly recognised you

“I-“ you muttered speechless at the video taken

Leah was just thinking with her eyebrows scrunched, what a breach of privacy, someone filming you in your hotel room she thought, but how adorable the video was. it was just the clips together of Leah dipping you every now and then, as well as the two of you spinning each other

“The comments figured out it was yous’” Katie grinned “congrats influencers”

“Oh my gosh” you laughed covering your face with your hands

“It’s a bit disrespectful innit?” Leah said to you

“I see videos like that all the time. It’s so cute” you cooed, pulling her side in annoyingly

“I just hope you two closed the curtains before you got on with the rest of your night” Beth said smirking, before taking a seat at the table with the rest of you guys

You and Leah let out a low chuckle at her comment, before everyone got into their food and you and Leah exchanged a qwide eyed look

A/N : one of the small blurbs that had been sitting here. But I changed a heap so it’s a bit newer. I’ll try to get some more out of my drafts. Ly !

[star-suh]

Spider-Mark

Mark Lee x Male Reader

cw: superhero top mark, sex under pheromones effects, sort of enemies to secret lovers maybe?, ripped clothes, tongue sucking, mark cums a lot, fingering, 69, belly bulge, choking, bareback, implied marathon sex, auralism, bit of feminization (just one phrase), an impregnation joke, creaming idk i made that up, cum as lube.

an: this could get nasty at the end for some idk, also there would be parts in where i would refer to mark with his name but remember that yn never found out his true identity.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE 🎃

in a world full of humans with superpowers it’s natural that some villains arise and in consequence some heroes are needed. out of everyone one of them was the most beloved, the cute and friendly spider-man. a young masked superhero with a red and blue suit adorned with spider and web motifs, he was so damn good at his job that some people couldn’t help but fall in love with him. this is the case of yn, a smart college student who got kinda obsessed with the hero. “isn’t he so good?” he tells his friends while looking at a picture he took of the aforementioned hero with his phone, he was infatuated by him. “yeah he’s so cool” a voice suddenly speaks with a small laugh at the end of the sentence. “shut up mark, you’re annoying” yn blurted out. the relationship between yn and mark was complicated, they didn’t start on good terms like they were always pit against each other because they were the clever ones in the classroom, something that gradually became a pain in the ass for both guys. “what? isn’t that what you wanna hear about your beloved spidey?” mark mocks causing yn to storm out of them to avoid more conflicts.

unbeknownst to yn he just talked with the man of his dreams, the man behind the web-decorated mask. since he was bit by a mysterious spider, mark gained abilities based on this arachnid, one of the things he liked the most was justice, so why not use his newly found powers to help other people?.

one night, yn was walking home alone, the roads were almost empty. then suddenly some masked guy showed up pointing a gun at yn, “give me everything you have” he yells. yn shakes in fear “HELP!!” he shouts “SOMEBODY HELP!!”, he cocked his gun and aimed at yn’s head when it suddenly flew through the air, landing in an known hand, “got you” he speaks through the mask and shoots some spider-webs towards the robber who got trapped against a wall, being taken by the police minutes later. spider-man took the young man into his arms and carried him towards his house, balancing in between skyscrapers with the help of his webs. it was like a dream that came true for yn, god he was so happy being carried by those strong arms, he could almost cry…

a friendship grows in between the two, obviously with his identity still hidden from yn, he doesn’t want to ruin his new friend’s dream, like what would yn think if he found out his favorite superhero is his rival. days and nights passed with them sitting on a rooftop eating while contemplating the full moon, “isn’t it pretty?” spider-man mutters, his hand resting mere centimeters away from yn’s, “it is” yn says happily, his eyes almost sparkling as if he was in an anime. something in the air shifted suddenly, an intoxicating smell invaded the area, yn started to sweat and his cheeks got flushed. the same happened to mark but of course the mask hides it, his suit starts to stick to his body thanks to the immense sweat. then realization hit him, he started to feel so comfortable that he started to secrete pheromones, one of the side effects of the bite, and they were affecting them both. mark tried to go away but an already hypnotized yn grabs him by the wrist “don’t go please”, mark looked at his pretty sweaty face, ‘he’s begging to be fucked’, mark thought but then shook his head try to erase that thought. “i-i have to go.. sorry” he tried to break away from yn’s grab but to no avail, where did that strength come from?. mark slipped and fell to the floor sitting while yn crawled his way onto him, “spider-man is itching” yn says while shaking his ass, he was completely gone, devoured by the pheromones effect. “y-yn i.. i don’t know” his bulge started to grow, the part of the suit on his crotch swelling due to he getting excited, “damn i should've learned how to control this shit” and with just a swing he grabs yn and carries him on his shoulder while looking for a place to satiate that lust. “take me to my bedroom” yn mentions, indicating to the hero where it was ubicated.

the two arrived and mark opened the window, entering the bedroom quietly, yn tried to discard mark’s mask but he didn’t allow it, he just pulled it up to his nose level, his mouth now free to litter kisses and hickeys in yn. they shared a kiss, mark’s tongue exploring inside yn’s mouth, their tongues intertwined, there would be times in which mark sticks out his tongue for yn to suck on it and vice versa, threads of saliva sticking to their chins, looking like a spider-web. “this is the messiest kiss i’ve ever had” mark confesses, “mine too, i don’t know what’s happening to me” yn replies, “but i need you right now” he adds.

the desperation for each other was so unbearable that mark wanting to not waste more time, ripped the crotch area of his suit, his dick springing free already leaking with precum, “fuck it’s so big” yn panted after seeing it, “is this all for me?” he asks, pouting. “only if you can take it all” the needy hero announced. mark also ripped yn’s pants, the fabric tore right above his hole, “jockstraps hmm?.. sexy” he murmurs.

mark grinds his wet tip on yn’s hole, soaking with precum, “look at how wet i am for you”. then he put his fingers right above his dick to put some pressure on it and started to thrust, going up and down in between yn’s bum. yn throws back his head, the friction creating heat right above his hole that started pulsating, wanting to feel that heat inside of it, he looks at mark with pouty eyes, he wants more, no, he needs more. mark caressed his cheek, his face getting closer towards yn’s, “want me to fuck you pretty boy?” he sexily whispers, his voice resonating throughout yn’s whole body making him tremble, how can such a cute hero be so smoking hot and sexy. yn nods desperately, “please fuck me, use me, just put it inside now”.

mark prepared yn’s hole to take his dick, first he grabbed yn by hugging his hips and pulled him up so his ass could be at the same level of his face and yn’s face would be in front of his hanging dick basically doing a 69 but instead of doing it the normal way they’re doing it standing up, or in this case, on their knees. yn swallowed mark’s dick while the latter starts to finger him, his fingers soaked in his saliva, mark would sometimes eat yn’s ass, burying his face on his hole and then continuing the stretching with his digits, even putting all 4 of them at once loving how when he pulls them out yn’s hole clenches onto nothing but air. meanwhile down there yn keeps on sucking the other’s shaft, occasionally the hero would do some slow paced thrust causing his balls to slap against yn’s face, they were heavy and it seems that they were full of cum also, yn cannot wait anymore to have all that spooge inside him.

mark folded yn and introduced his throbbing shaft first slowly but then accelerating the pace right away, “fuck! milk this hero cock” mark grunts, the muscles and the veins on his arms bulging because of how hard he was gripping the mattress as a way to stabilize himself. at this point mark’s whole suit was damaged, the initial rip slowly grew until what was his pants were now just pieces of clothes hanging on his forelegs, leaving his bottom half naked. his big ass recoils everytime he plows yn and thanks to the excessive precum he produces wet, gushy sounds that originated from the other’s hungry hole, “noisy pussy” mark laughs proceeding to kiss yn. they both got carried away by the pleasure, yn now in doggy style was being choked by mark’s hands, they were placed in his neck so he can go even deeper, “sooo deep…” yn’s tongue was out and drool dripping out of his face. mark’s heavy balls slammed against the other, the night being a witness of their wild sex.

“i’m gonna cum” mark groans, his voice hoarse due to how much he already said that phrase to yn. it was already morning and god knows how many times mark has already came inside yn, he attributes this new ‘ability’ to cum buckets to the bite, “that bite brought good things with it after all” the lustful man exclaimed. one can notice that he indeed cums a lot because there was a tiny bump forming on yn’s tummy, “i can’t anymore spider-man” he uttered, his fucked up face and body drenched in sweat, marks and his own cum. “look at this i knocked you up” the hero jokes pressing against it, then an idea popped up on his mind, he made yn seat on top of him with his still rock hard shaft right above yn’s used entrance, “do this for me and push it all out” mark bits gently yn’s ear who complies and started to do what he was told, slowly he starts to squirt all the cum inside him that landed on mark’s pink tip and slid all the way down his shaft then to his balls and finally dripped onto the floor. “damn i really came a lot” his perfect smile and sexy low laugh sending shivers to yn all the way down his pulsating hole. when he finally squirted all the cum, mark slicked his dick with it using his hand and put it inside yn, “sorry, i’m horny again”, let’s say yn spend the whole day and night moaning and babbling nonsense.

the next day, all the people were asking what happened to spider-man that he didn’t appear yesterday the whole day at all, luckily there weren't any villains near the city. yn went to his classes when one of his friends asked why he didn’t came yesterday to study, “i was very sick but i’m okay now” what’s the only thing they heard from him. he was walking towards his next class when accidentally bumped into mark, who embarrassed of what he did yesterday just muttered a little sorry and resumed with his walking, everyone was surprised because usually this would end up with them both throwing tantrums at each other, “woah that was weird” one of the friends uttered, “yeah” yn narrowed his eyes while looking at mark, he saw something on mark’s neck, is it a hickey? why does it look like one of the hickeys he gave to the lustful hero yesterday? “nevermind” he shook his head and entered the classroom.

a flashback popped into mark's mind, last night he was ready to leave but his suit was completely ripped into pieces so yn lent him some clothes, “can i see who’s behind the mask?” he asked while caressing the other’s cheeks and lips, “not now” he said after waving a goodbye and leaving.

yn comes home just to see the clothes he lent to spider-man clean and folded on his bed with a note that says “see you soon”, butterflies flew on yn’s stomach who cheered and danced in happiness.

[mafiadad5]

How can you mend a broken heart? [lmk]

“It’s only to make him Jealous Y/n, swear.”

✧ mark lee x fem!reader

✧ Genre- angst, fluff, mutual pining, best friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, university au (only implied once though).

✧ Wc- 11k

✧ Warnings- heartbreak, kissing.

✧ Playlist- how can you mend a broken heart - Al Green / Moon river - Frank Ocean / Lose Control - Teddy Swims / Tell Him - Ms. Lauryn Hill / At Last - Etta James / ✧

a/n- omg hi again! I enjoyed writing my last mark angst so I decided to do another one with a… happier ending. I hope you guys enjoy!

────୨ৎ────

"Hey, I got here as fast as I could... woah dude, are you okay?" Mark's smile dropped the moment he saw your puffy, watery eyes through the door frame. You didn't say anything, just reached out and pulled him into a hug, sobbing into his chest.

"We're done, we're really done, Mark... it's over." Your voice trembled, each word fragile as you struggled to keep your emotions together.

Mark froze for a second, caught off guard before gently wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in tighter. His shirt dampened from your tears, but he didn't care. He just held you, trying to steady you with his presence.

"Wait who? You and Jaemin?" Mark asked, his voice filled with concern as he stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him without letting go. His arm remained firmly around your waist, supporting you as you buried your face in his chest.

You nodded, struggling to breathe between sobs. "We had this huge fight over... Minecraft, Mark— fucking Minecraft! He told me he couldn't do this anymore. That we weren't going to work, and he just left." 

You pulled back from the hug, your lip quivering uncontrollably as hot tears streamed down your face. The disbelief, the shock of it all was hitting you hard. Your mind was racing, replaying the fight over and over. It felt surreal how something so stupid could destroy everything.

Mark's eyebrows shot up, a brief expression of surprise painting his face. "Minecraft...?" He raised a brow, and for a split second, the corner of his mouth shaped into a small smirk.

Your expression shifted, eyes narrowing. "It's not funny." you muttered, voice cracking. "It's not-”

"No, no, I know. It's not funny." Mark quickly interrupted, his smirk fading as he saw the pain in your eyes. "I'm sorry Y/n. It's not funny at all."

"What an asshole for breaking up with you over Minecraft of all things." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked at you.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping your face with the back of your hand, but the tears kept coming. "It wasn't just the game Mark. He said he's been feeling like this for a while. That I didn't 'get him' anymore. And that stupid argument was just the last straw, I guess."

"Dude that still doesn't give him the right to like, leave you like that, over something so... stupid. If he was feeling something, he should've talked to you. It's not on you to just magically know what he's thinking." Mark said, eyes softening as he gently cupped your shoulder, guiding you to the couch.

You sat down, pulling your knees to your chest, staring blankly at the floor. "I thought we were fine. Like, we had our ups and downs, but I thought we would work through it."

Mark sat next to you, his arm sliding around your shoulders, pulling you close again. "You didn't do anything wrong. If he's been feeling this way and didn't tell you, that's on him, not you. You're not a mind reader."

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I just... I feel so stupid. Over a game, Mark. Who loses someone they love over Minecraft?"

"It's not stupid." Mark said softly.

"He's the one who made this bigger than it needed to be. It could've been a conversation, but he turned it into something else. He made the choice to walk away, not you."

"But what if I'm not enough? What if... I never was?" You sniffed, trying to stop the fresh tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

Mark tightened his grip around you, his voice firm. "Don't say that. You are more than enough. Jaemin didn't deserve you if he couldn't see that. You deserve someone who's going to communicate, who's going to fight for you, not leave over some dumb fight."

You stayed quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. His warmth and presence were the only things keeping you sane right now. Mark always knew how to make you feel safe, even when everything around you was falling apart.

"I don't know how to move on from this." You whispered lightly.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now—" Mark said gently. 

"I'm here, okay? We'll get through this together. One step at a time. And if that means we stay up all night, then so be it. Or like you know, we can just destroy things in creative mode until you feel better."

A small laugh escaped you, despite everything. It was weak, but it was there. "That... actually sounds kind of nice."

Mark grinned, nudging you playfully. "See? One tiny step forward already. And seriously man, Jaemin doesn't know what he's missing."

You wiped your face again, the tears slowing. "Thanks Mark. I really don't know what I'd do without you."

His expression softened as he smiled. "Well, you'll never have to find out, because I'm not going anywhere." 

You laid your head on his shoulder, sitting silently as you two took in each other’s embrace. 

Aren’t you glad to have a best friend like Mark?

────୨ৎ────

"So, how are you feeling?" Mark asked, his eyes flickering between the movie on the screen and you. The soft glow from the TV cast shadows across the room, but his attention was entirely on you.

You took a handful of popcorn and slowly chewed, letting out a deep sigh as you leaned back against the couch. "Better..." you said, forcing a small smile. It wasn't entirely true, but sitting next to him, you felt a little more at ease.

Mark smiled softly, sensing your hesitation, but he didn't push for more. For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the background noise of the movie filling the space between your thoughts, but the quiet never lasted long. 

You sat up suddenly, huffing as you crossed your arms. "Ugh Mark, it's just like—why did this have to happen to me? We're in the same friend group, and now it's gonna be so awkward. I can't even think about how I'll face him."

As if on cue, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, lighting up with notifications from the group chat. A notification from your group of friends. You frowned as you swiped the notifications away.

Mark glanced at his own phone, seeing the same texts. "You know me and my ex are in that friend group too, and it hasn't affected anything," He said, giving a small shrug. "As you can see, we've all moved on and if Jaemin has any sense left, he'll do the same. He won't bring anything up and will just... leave you alone."

Mark's voice trailed off as his phone buzzed again. "Plus, it looks like he's already getting the memo. He hasn't said a word since-"

"Well, what about me, Mark?!" You blurted out, pressing the "Do Not Disturb" button on your phone in frustration, your voice rising as you tossed your phone aside and slumped back onto the couch, lips forming a pout. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Mark follow your lead, tapping the same option on his own screen. It made you smile a little, knowing that even in this, he was quietly on your side.

Mark sighed and nudged you lightly with his elbow. "Look, just stop overthinking it, okay? Watch the movie. Everything will be fine. Trust me."

When you didn't respond he reached out, gently brushing away a few popcorn crumbs from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary and you caught his gaze, feeling a flutter in your chest. For a moment the tension between you shifted—just the slightest flicker, but enough to make you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

"You know..." You said, trying to distract yourself from the sudden tension."You'd make such a better boyfriend than Jaemin. How'd you and your ex break up again?"

"She broke up with me to 'focus on herself' or something like that. Honestly, I don't even care anymore. I'm over it." Mark said chuckling, shaking his head.

"Oh my god, yeah, no, I remember that. I knew there was another reason I didn't like her." You said with a teasing smile

Mark raised an eyebrow, his curiosity scratching at him. "Wait, what's the first reason?"

You raised your eyebrows right back, a mischievous smirk painting your lips. "Naw, don't get quiet now!" Mark teased, his tone light but challenging. "Tell me, or I’ll tell her you didn't like her this whole time."

"Stop Mark, oh my god. She probably already knows anyway." You giggled, swatting him playfully.

Both of you broke into laughter, the playful energy between you easing the tension, but then, your phone lit up again, snapping you both out of the moment. It was another group chat notification. You glanced at the screen, and Mark did the same.

“You're invited to my mini get together at the arcade tomorrow at 8. Idc if you're busy, drop it and be there!”

You sighed heavily and turned your phone off, tossing it aside again. 

"We're gonna have so much fun." Mark said sarcastically, even though he was already typing a confirmation in the chat.

"We're not gonna have anything because I'm not going." You muttered, folding your arms across your chest. You could feel his gaze shift to you, the teasing gone from his face.

"Dude. Yes, you are." He said, his voice firm but gentle.

"Look at me! I can't go out and see him this soon. I'm a mess, Mark." You shot back, gesturing at yourself with a frown. 

"You're not a mess." He said, shaking his head, his eyes softening as he watched you.

"You're upset, and that's normal. But trust me, you can do this. He didn't even respond to the invite, see? He's probably not even going. I'll be with you the entire time."

You wanted to hide from everything, from everyone, but the way Mark was looking at you—his eyes filled with quiet determination, like he wouldn't take no for an answer made it hard to refuse.

"Seriously Y/n, please come. I'll make sure it's not awkward, I swear." He said, his voice low, almost pleading. 

You stared at him, meeting his gaze. After a long pause, you finally let out a sigh. "Fine... fine, I'll go." You mumbled, grabbing your phone to confirm in the group chat.

Mark's face broke into a wide smile, his eyes lighting up. "Thank you! You won't regret it. I'll make sure we have fun."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling at his excitement. "You better." You muttered.

"So, I'm obviously staying the night, right? Where are my pajamas? I know I left them here somewhere." Mark said, standing up and stretching, grinning down at you.

"You always do this.” You laughed, shaking your head, getting up to retrieve them from the closet. As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you—lingering.

As you handed him his pajamas, his fingers brushed yours briefly. Mark smiled at you, softer this time, and for a moment it felt like the room had shrunk around the two of you, like the world outside didn't exist.

"Thanks." He murmured, looking at you with sparkling eyes. You held his gaze for a beat longer than usual, before turning away. 

"Yeah... no problem." You whispered, getting settled back onto the couch.

────୨ৎ────

"Y/n, are you ready? I'm here." 

You read the text from Mark, your phone screen glowing as you sat on the edge of your bed.

"No." you typed back quickly, slightly confused when he left you on read. A few minutes later you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and of course... Mark was standing there, a playful grin on his face.

"Dude, I seriously thought you flaked on me—" he said but paused, his eyes widening as they scanned you from head to toe. "Damn girl. We're going to an arcade, not a fine dining restaurant."

"Mark stop." You giggled, slipping on your shoes. "I'm just wearing a skirt and a shirt." You grabbed your bag and led him out the door.

"Yeah, but you look good though man. Like, really pretty and stuff like that" he stuttered awkwardly, a nervous smile creeping onto his face. Your own smile mirroring his. 

"Thank you Mark." you responded softly.

"Oh, and good news. Jaemin's not even gonna be there. He never responded." He added, glancing at his phone as you walked toward his car.

"That's a relief." You said, but the unease in your stomach didn't completely fade. You climbed into the passenger seat, hoping tonight would go smoothly.

When you and Mark arrived at the arcade you both walked in with smiles, ready to see your friends, but the moment your eyes scanned the room, your smile dropped. There sitting at the table, laughing with the group, was Jaemin.

Your heart dropped. Out of instinct, you  grabbed Mark's hand, holding it tightly to stop any emotion from showing on your face.

"Sorry- " You muttered, quickly pulling your hand away. It wasn't like it was the first time you'd held Mark's hand, but tonight, it felt different. More... loaded. Before he could respond you spoke again, your voice filled with nervous frustration.

"Mark you said he wasn't gonna be here." You whispered, glancing at him with betrayal.

"I didn't know!" Mark raised his hands in defense, looking at you with those endearing, soft eyes. 

"Listen, no matter what, I promised you a good time, and I'm sticking to that. That's what's gonna happen." He gave you a reassuring smile and before you could say anything he slid his hand into yours again, this time intentionally.

You blinked at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread through your chest as his thumb lightly brushed your knuckles. 

"Okay?" He asked, his eyes locking with yours.

"Okay." You nodded, squeezing his hand back.

As Mark led you toward the group, you couldn't help but notice the heat of his hand still in yours. Your friends greeted you with excited smiles, but your eyes immediately moved to Jaemin, sitting there with a bitter expression, his gaze on your joined hands.

"Oooo, what's this?" One of your friends teased, wiggling her eyebrows as she eyed the two of you.

You and Mark stayed silent, sharing an awkward smile, but neither of you let go.

"I thought you were with Jaemin?" Someone else asked, causing the group to agree in confusion.

"We—" you began, but quickly cut yourself off. 

"He broke up with me." You said, your voice a bit too smug as you shot a look directly at Jaemin, everyone's attention shifting to him.

"And it looks like you didn't have trouble finding a replacement quickly, huh?" Jaemin responded coldly, crossing his arms.

"Mark has been my best friend for years, so was it really a replacement when he was here first?" You retorted.

The group fell into silence, all eyes falling between you and Jaemin, waiting for his reaction. 

Jaemin scoffed, his lips turning into a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh right. 'Best friends'. "Funny how 'best friends' always seem to turn into something more the second things end, huh? Makes me wonder what was really going on before we broke up." He said, his tone mocking.

Mark's body tensed beside you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. You could feel the anger radiating from him, but before he could speak, Jaemin interrupted him.  "I guess you're really good at keeping your 'options' open aren't you?" 

You took a sharp breath, eyes dark as you looked at him. "Another excuse? Was Minecraft not enough?"

The room erupted into quiet whispers, and one of your friends spoke up, "Wait dude... you broke up with her over Minecraft?"

Jaemin's smirk fell for a second. 

"It was more complicated than that." He started, but before he could finish someone else interrupted.

"Guys! Can we please just eat and play games like we planned instead of focusing on Mark and Y/n's new relationship?" A loud voice broke through the tension, trying to steer the conversation away.

"Sounds like a plan." Someone else laughed, trying to ease the mood, but as the group prepared to move to the arcade section, Jaemin spoke once again. 

"Notice how they didn't deny it though."

"DUDE, CMON." Someone yelled, dragging Jaemin away from the both of you. 

Inside the arcade the atmosphere lightened as your friends scattered to play games. The flashing lights and music filled the room helping you momentarily forget the earlier tension. 

You and Mark stuck close together, trying out various games, but even in the chaos of flashing neon lights and arcade noises, you couldn't shake the way you felt whenever Mark looked at you. At one point, Mark pulled you toward a basketball shooting game.

"Think you can beat me?" He teased, tossing a ball between his hands.

"Of course I can." You laughed, stepping up to the machine.

The game began and you focused on shooting as many baskets as possible, the competition between you heating up. When the game ended, Mark had won by just a few points, but you noticed he seemed more distracted by you than by the score. 

"Guess I'm still the champion." He said, leaning in closer as he spoke, his voice lower than usual.

"Whatever."  You rolled your eyes, but smiled, nudging him playfully. 

"You only won because I was distracted."

"Oh yeah? By what?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, his stare intense.

You paused, looking everywhere but his eyes. 

"By... everything." You mumbled, feeling a little hot.

"Well, you're not the only one." He smiled, cheekbones prominent as he looked at you with sparkling eyes.  

"Uh huh, says the all time champion." You chuckle, placing your hand on his chest, trying to push him away before the moment was interrupted. 

"Hey you two! Stop flirting and come play air hockey with us." 

"Stop!" You whine jokingly, looking back at Mark, realizing your hand is still resting on his chest. 

"Oh oops." You both laughed awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. But as you followed your friends, you couldn't help but feel like something had shifted between you and Mark... well... maybe not? You don't know, it doesn't matter anyways. 

The night had gone better than you expected, and you found yourself laughing with Mark as you headed to the car. The tension from earlier with Jaemin had mostly melted away.

"See, I told you we were gonna have fun." Mark said, glancing over with a smile that made your chest feel warm.

"Yeah I had a good time. I'm glad you convinced me to come out." You giggled, leaning back in your seat, grinning to yourself, but the moment faded as Mark went quiet, the silence lingering, thickening the air between you.

"So... when are we gonna tell them that we're actually not dating?" Mark asked, breaking the silence. His tone was light, but something about the question made your grin fall as you stared out the window.

"They'll figure it out eventually." You replied, turning to face him with a forced smile, trying to keep things casual.

Mark hummed in response, his focus shifting back to the road, but the easy vibe from earlier was gone, replaced by something heavier, something unsaid. 

He pulled up to your apartment complex, the car engine humming softly as you prepared to get out.

"Thanks for tonight Mark. I'll see you later." You said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Wait—don't you want me to walk you in?" He asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

"No thanks. I’m good, seriously." You said, smiling again, his sad eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. Something about the way he was looking at you made your heart do a weird flip, that look in his eyes.

"See you later boyfriend." You teased trying to break the tension before the air could get even weirder.

"See you later girlfriend." Mark smiled, even though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

As you shut the car door and walked up to your apartment, a strange mix of emotions welled up inside you. You felt confused—happy maybe?—but also kind of hollow. 

Something about the whole night left you unsettled. You collapsed onto your couch, trying to make sense of it, when you heard a knock at the door, startling you.

You opened it to see Mark standing there again, biting his lip nervously.

"Mark. What do you want?" you joked, even though a small part of you meant it.

"Can I talk to you real quick?" He asked, stepping inside without waiting for an answer. The look in his eyes was different now, more serious.

"Yeah, sure." You said, sitting down beside him on the couch. 

"What's going on?"

"It's nothing super serious, but... hear me out?" He looked like he was bracing himself for something, and you nodded, feeling the shift in the air. "Maybe we should, like... act like we're dating for real. You know, like fake date." he stuttered on his words, his eyes flicking nervously to yours. "To make Jaemin jealous."

"You want to fake date... to get back at Jaemin?" You blinked, caught off guard.

"He was definitely rattled tonight, you saw that." 

You just stared at him blankly.

"And he deserves it for how he treated you. Plus, it'd be easy right? We've been best friends forever, so it wouldn't even be weird." Mark continued, his words rushing out as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You couldn't help but laugh, scratching the back of your head. "Mark, this is a very... wild idea… so what, we're just gonna fake a big breakup later too?"

He waved that off, grinning. "Dude we'll deal with that later. Come on Y/n, this could be fun. And it's not like there's anything complicated between us—we don't like each other like that, so it's just, like, a fun game. Right?"

Your heart squeezed at that last part, the words hitting a little harder than you expected. No feelings? Nothing complicated? 

After a pause, you nodded. "Ok. Let's do it."

“Yes! This is gonna be awesome." Mark said, face lighting up as he grabbed your hands in excitement, his energy infectious.

You watched him for a second, trying to ignore how warm his hands felt holding yours, how his smile seemed to linger a little too long on his face.

"You seem a little too excited about this." You teased, trying to push aside the growing tension inside you.

"What can I say? Fake dating my best friend sounds kinda fun." He shrugged, a smile still on his face.

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could respond, you yawned, feeling the exhaustion from the night catch up with you. 

"Ok Mark. I'm tired, so you can, like... leave now." You said with a laugh.

Mark stood up, pretending to look hurt. "Wow, kicking your boyfriend out already. I want to break up."

You froze for a second, your eyes widening in shock. 

His face softened when he realized what he'd said. "Or... maybe not! Bye Y/n."

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door on him, but just as you started to walk away, you heard another knock. You opened the door again to see him grinning sheepishly.

"You didn't say bye back." He said, eyes twinkling.

"Bye Mark." You said. You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head.

As you closed the door for the second time, you stood there for a moment, your heart pounding a little faster than it should have been. You were in a fake relationship with your best friend now. Nothing could go wrong with that... right?

────୨ৎ────

The next few days passed in a blur and nothing major had changed on the surface, but there was an undeniable shift between you and Mark. You kept telling yourself it was just the fake dating thing that made everything feel... different, but now every time you texted or hung out, the words carried a weight they never had before.

That became clear the next time Mark showed up at your apartment. You were getting ready for another group hangout, some casual lunch with everyone—including Jaemin. Mark arrived early as usual, but instead of heading straight out, he lingered by the door.

"Do I look okay?" You asked, adjusting your outfit in the mirror. It was an innocent question, one you had asked him hundred times before, but this time, when he looked at you, his gaze lingered. 

"You look great." He said, his voice quieter than usual. 

His eyes traveled from your face, down to your shoes, then back up, locking on yours. Your stomach flipped, and you turned away, breaking the moment. You were just reading into things. That's all. 

"Thanks. You're not too bad yourself." You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Mark chuckled, but it felt off, a little awkward. 

"Ready to go?" He asked, grabbing the keys from the counter.

As you stepped out together you couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing, something neither of you were saying.

Lunch with the group was surprisingly less tense than the last hangout. Jaemin was there, but he didn't cause any scenes, probably because the rest of the group was on high alert. You sat next to Mark as usual, and he played his part perfectly, but then there was a moment when the group had split up to order food. 

You and Mark were left alone at the table, the buzz of the restaurant fading into the background as you both sat there in silence.

"You're doing okay, right?" Mark asked, his voice softer than before.

"Yeah." You said, even though it felt like a lie. You weren't sure what "okay" even meant anymore.

"It's just weird, you know? Being around him like this."

Mark nodded, his hand resting on the table between you. You stared at it for a moment, then felt a sudden rush of warmth as his fingers brushed yours.

He didn't pull away.

Your heart thudded in your chest. You told yourself it was just part of the act—something to keep up appearances, but when you looked up and met Mark's eyes, there was a flicker of something real in them. Something unspoken, but heavy. You quickly looked away, pretending to check your phone. "Everyone's taking forever to order." You said, forcing a laugh.

Mark didn't say anything for a second, his fingers still brushing against yours, but eventually he pulled his hand back. 

"Yeah, they are." He said, his voice tight.

The rest of lunch passed quickly, the conversation flowing but your mind kept drifting to that moment at the table. You tried to push it aside—tried to focus on what you had agreed on, that this was just an act, but with every glance Mark threw your way, every small smile that seemed more genuine than playful, you felt that barrier between friendship and something more begin to crumble.

Later that evening, you found yourself sitting on the couch, replaying the day in your head. It wasn't like anything major had happened, but the tension between you and Mark was starting to feel impossible to ignore.

A text lit up your phone.

“Hey, you still up?”

You smiled, replying quickly.

“Yeah, what's up?”

“ I was just thinking... about earlier. Do you think we're doing a good job selling this whole "dating" thing?”

You paused, unsure how to respond. He was clearly still in "fake dating" mode, but for you... you didn't know what mode you were in.

“Yeah, I think it's going pretty well. Why?”

“Just making sure man. I don't want Jaemin or anyone thinking we're half-assing it.”

You stared at the message for a moment, the weight of what wasn't being said hanging between the lines. It would be so easy to just laugh it off, keep things as they were. 

But...

“You know, sometimes I forget we're faking it.”

The message sat there on your screen, your heart racing as you hit send. You didn't know what you were expecting—maybe a joke or some lighthearted reply to brush it all off.

But his reply came.

“Yeah. Me too.”

You stared at his message, your heart pounding harder now. The space between you had shifted again, but this time it felt like there was no going back.

────୨ৎ────

The next day you and Mark tried to go back to normal, pretending like nothing had changed after that conversation. It was easy enough at first. You had a study session planned and just like old times, Mark showed up with snacks and a hoodie that was two sizes too big. You sat cross legged on the floor, books sprawled out in front of you, Mark was on the couch, pretending to focus.

Every once in a while you'd catch him glancing at you, or you'd find yourself zoning out, staring at the way his hands fidgeted with the corner of a page. The atmosphere was different, and you both knew it.

Still, you didn't talk about it.

"So." Mark said, breaking the silence, "I was thinking we should do something tomorrow. You know, for the whole... fake dating thing." He fumbled with his words, like he was trying to find the right balance between casual and something else.

"Like another group hangout?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Maybe…or just the two of us? We could go out and get coffee or something, act like we're on a date. Just to keep up the illusion."

A spark flickered in your chest, but you quickly pushed it down. It's just for the act, you reminded yourself. Nothing more. 

"Yeah, that makes sense." you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "We should probably post something too. You know, sell it on social media."

Mark nodded, a little too quickly. "Exactly. People will totally buy it if they see us together more."

There was an awkward pause, both of you knowing full well that you already spent nearly all your time together, but not willing to admit it. Instead, you focused on flipping through the pages of your textbook, hoping that the silence would swallow up the tension.

After a while Mark stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "It's kinda funny, isn't it?" He said, almost speaking to himself.

"What is?"

"How we've been best friends for years and no one ever thought we'd be more and now we're pretending to be something we never were."

You laughed lightly, but it felt forced. “Yeah…funny." You paused, tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook. "But like, it's not a big deal, right? I mean, we know it's just fake."

"Right." Mark echoed, but there was something in his tone that made it sound like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You glanced up at him, catching his eyes for a split second before he quickly looked away, his face flushing just slightly. There it was again—that weird tension that made everything feel more complicated than it should be.

"Yeah…" You said, forcing a smile, "just fake."

The words hung in the air between you like an unspoken agreement, both of you clinging to the safety of that label ‘fake’. As long as you called it that, you could deny everything else.

Later that evening, after Mark had left and you were alone in your apartment, you couldn't shake the strange feeling that had settled over you. Your mind kept wandering back to the way he'd looked at you—like there was something he wanted to say, but didn't.

You weren't supposed to think about Mark like this. He was your best friend. That's all he’s ever been, and that's all this was supposed to be. You were fake dating to make Jaemin jealous, to get back at him, not because you actually had feelings for Mark. That would be ridiculous, but despite how much you tried to convince yourself, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that kept whispering otherwise, it always did.

You shook your head, tossing your phone onto the couch. This was just a weird phase where you were overthinking everything because of the fake relationship. You and Mark would go back to normal soon, and all this awkward tension would fade away. It had to.

But as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if it didn't.

────୨ৎ────

The next day, you and Mark met up for coffee, just like he had suggested. It was supposed to be casual—a fake date to keep up appearances. But the second you walked into the café together, the mood shifted.

Mark held the door open for you, his hand brushing against yours as you walked past him and it sent a jolt through you that you tried to ignore. He was just being polite.

Friendly.

Nothing more.

You ordered your drinks and sat by the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow on the table. Mark was fidgeting again, playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, his knee bouncing up and down under the table.

"You're nervous?" You teased, trying to break the tension.

"What? No I'm not." He said quickly, but his knee stopped bouncing, and he gave you a sheepish grin. "Okay, maybe a little. I'm just not used to... this."

"Neither am I." You admitted, stirring your coffee aimlessly.

"But it's fine. We've got this."

"Yeah. It's just pretend anyway.” Mark said, his eyes darting to the window, avoiding yours.

"Right. Just pretend."

But as the conversation drifted to other topics and you both laughed like you always did, the line between pretending and something more blurred again. You weren't supposed to feel this comfortable with him. You weren't supposed to notice how his eyes crinkled when he smiled or how your heart sped up when he laughed at one of your dumb jokes.

You weren't supposed to feel like this was more than fake.

But you did.

And judging by the way Mark's gaze lingered on you a little too long when he thought you weren't looking, you had a feeling he was feeling the same. Neither of you said it, though. You both kept pretending. Because it was safer that way.

────୨ৎ────

You'd been feeling pretty good about the whole "fake relationship" situation. Things with Mark were comfortable, just like they always had been, and somehow playing this little game in front of your friends made everything seem almost... fun. It was easy with him. He was always easy to be around, but that changed when you spotted him with his ex.

It was by pure chance—coming out of a coffee shop with your hands full of iced drinks, you saw them together on the sidewalk. She was laughing at something he said, her hand brushing his arm lightly as they walked. Mark... he looked at her like he used to. Like she was the only person in the world. You felt your stomach twist painfully, a lump forming in your throat.

You didn't want to feel hurt. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? You were just pretending. This whole thing with Mark was fake. So why did it feel so real all of a sudden?

You swallowed hard, gripping the drink carrier a little tighter as you walked past them, pretending you didn't notice. Mark didn't even see you.

You were sitting back at home. Before you could spiral any further, your phone buzzed.

"Hey, wanna hang out later? 😊"

Your head lingered on what you saw earlier before you replied.

"Yeah, sure."

Later that evening, when you met up with Mark everything was still fresh in your mind. He greeted you with his usual wide smile, but you couldn't help but notice the slight hesitancy in his step as he approached.

"What's up?" He asked, nudging your shoulder lightly. "You seem quiet."

"I'm good. Just thinking." You responded, forcing a smile.

"Thinking too much, as usual." He giggled, giving you another playful nudge, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a small laugh, but it felt hollow. You couldn't bring yourself to bring up his ex just yet. What were you going to say anyway? It wasn't your business. You and Mark were only pretending to be together, but as you walked, chatting about nothing in particular, the question was burning on the tip of your tongue.

"So... how was your day?" You asked casually, hoping he’d bring it up.

"Pretty chill. Just hung out with some people." He shrugged. “But now it’s better cause I’m with you.” He smiled, looking at you with those same sparkling eyes. 

And you kept up the act, laughing along, pretending it didn't bother you.

But it did.

That night, when you were alone, the uneasiness grew. You couldn't stop picturing them together. The way she smiled at him, how comfortable they looked. What really made you more uneasy was the fact that he hid it from you and acted like nothing happened earlier— makes you wonder how many times this has been happening.

The level of hurt you felt was immense, the person who was supposed to protect you from your feelings, made you hurt even more… and before you knew it, you were staring at your phone, hovering over Jaemin's name in your contacts.

You bit your lip, hesitating for just a moment before typing a message.

“Hey... can we talk?”

It felt strange reaching out to him after everything, but you weren't trying to get back together. You just wanted something to ground you, something familiar, someone who could remind you of who you were before everything got messy.

Jaemin responded almost immediately.

“Yeah. Want to meet up?”

Your heart raced as you stared at his text. Was this the right thing to do? You weren't sure, but the thought of seeing Mark with his ex again made you feel like you had to do something.

“Sure.”

You agreed to meet the next day, and you knew deep down that fixing things with Jaemin wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't erase the strange ache you felt watching Mark with someone else. But maybe, just maybe, it would help distract you from it.

At least for a little while.

────୨ৎ────

Ever since you spotted Mark with his ex something in you shifted. You tried not to let it get to you, tried to remind yourself that it shouldn't matter, but the hurt was there, like an ache you couldn't shake. It was hard enough pretending this fake relationship wasn't confusing your feelings more every day, and now this? 

The group meet up was supposed to be just another casual hangout, but this time you didn't feel like riding with Mark. After everything that had happened, especially seeing him with his ex, you weren't sure if you could sit in the car with him without it all bubbling to the surface. 

So, when he offered to pick you up, you quickly shot it down, saying you'd drive yourself. 

"Okay... cool." Mark said, sounding a little confused, but brushing it off. He didn't push it, and that was fine by you.

The arcade was buzzing when you arrived and you immediately spotted Jaemin. You hadn't expected things to be so easy between the two of you, but somehow they were. You weren't getting back together or anything, but there was a sense of comfort now. Your interactions became normal as you both slipped back into old habits—laughing, joking, sharing quick, familiar smiles.

You felt lighter, or at least you wanted to, but the second Mark walked in that fragile peace shattered. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, the weight of his stare practically pulling you toward him, but you forced yourself to stay focused on Jaemin.

You barely acknowledged him. Every time he tried to speak, you turned to someone else, laughing a little louder, pretending everything was fine. You didn't trust yourself to talk to him, not with how confused and hurt you still felt.

Finally, Mark had enough, standing up and walking over to you. voice low as he asked "Hey, can we talk? Outside?"

You sighed, giving Jaemin a quick glance before standing up. "Yeah, sure."

The second you were outside Mark turned to you, his jaw clenched. "What's going on with you and Jaemin?"

"Nothing. We're fine now. What, is that a problem?" You crossed your arms, not wanting to do this, but knowing you couldn't avoid it forever.

Mark's brows furrowed, his voice rising slightly. "It kinda feels like it is. We're supposed to be... you know, close. And now you're acting like I don't exist... You've been ignoring me all night Y/n. And now you're good with him again?"

Your frustration finally bubbled over. "Why do you even care Mark? It's not like you cared when you were hanging out with your ex."

Mark blinked, caught off guard. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I saw you." You said, the bitterness creeping into your voice. "I saw you with her. You two looked pretty close."

He stared at you, eyes wide in shock. "Y/n, it wasn't like that. We were just talking. It didn't mean anything."

"When we started fake dating it wasn't just about making Jaemin jealous, was it? You wanted her attention too." You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Mark's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by your words. "What? No Y/n, that's not—" he started, stumbling over his own thoughts. "It wasn't about her. I didn't- I thought we were both in on it, just... trying to move on." His voice softened, the uncertainty in his eyes betraying his attempt to seem sure of himself.

You shook your head, the sting of disappointment tightening in your chest. "That's the thing, Mark. It feels like you did choose her—again. Every time you get close to me, you pull back the second she's around." Your voice wavered, the hurt slipping out despite how hard you tried to keep it in. 

"What?" Mark asked, genuinely confused now, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated now. "But we're together, Y/n?" He said, almost as if he believed it himself.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, now we're together? You didn't seem to be thinking about me when you were with her."

Mark's face twisted, frustration mixing with something else—something deeper. "That's not fair." He muttered, stepping closer. "You know it's not like that."

"Then what is it like Mark? Because I don't know what to think anymore. You were the one person I never thought I'd have to guard my heart from." You spoke, your voice softer now, but still filled with pain.

The air between you was thick with unspoken words, tension swirling in the space as Mark stood there, his gaze locked on yours. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his expression shifted from frustration to something softer, something vulnerable.

You tried to turn away, but he reached out, gently grabbing your wrist. "You don't have to guard your heart away from me... tell me how you feel."

You shook your head, trying to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. "Mark, let's just—"

Before you could say anything else, he moved closer. Then, without another word, he leaned in.

His lips were on yours, urgent and desperate, like he was trying to make sense of everything the only way he knew how, and you let yourself fall into it. 

It was good… too good, and it made your head spin. It wasn't a soft kiss, not hesitant or uncertain. It was filled with the weight of everything you'd both been holding back—the confusion, the tension, the yearning that had built up over time. 

For a second, you let yourself melt into him, feeling his warmth, the way his hands gently cupped your face like he was scared you'd pull away, your hands gripping his shirt. For a moment, it felt right—like all the confusion, had led to this, but then reality hit you again, hard.

"You're so confusing." You whispered, pulling away from him. 

Without waiting for him to respond, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, the weight of the kiss still hanging in the air between you. 

You didn't look back, you couldn't. If you did, you weren't sure what would happen next.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on your couch, staring at the TV without really watching it, replaying the kiss with Mark in your mind. Your lips still tingled with his taste and your heart felt heavy with all the confusion. You didn't know what to think, what to feel. The tension between you and Mark had been building for so long, but the way it ended... his words still echoed in your mind.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. Your heart raced. It was Mark, it had to be him. He would want to talk things through? Maybe he felt the same things you did. You hurried to the door hoping for some kind of resolution, but when you swung it open your heart sank.

Jaemin stood there, hands shoved in his pockets. "Hey." He said, glancing down at the ground, then back up at you with those familiar eyes.

"Oh it's just you..." You answered, you couldn't help but to sound a little disappointed, prompting Jaemin's eyebrows to raise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He giggled, before peeking inside "Can I come in?" 

You blinked, stepping back instinctively. "Jaemin... what are you doing here?"

He stepped inside, his presence filling the space with an awkward energy. "I wanted to talk." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"I've been thinking Y/n, about us. I know things ended badly, but... maybe we made a mistake—I made a mistake. I miss you."

You froze, out of all possible times... 

"Jaemin..." You began, but before you could finish, there was another knock at the door.

Your heart leaped again, glancing at Jaemin, your stomach twisting. This time you knew it was Mark. You opened the door slowly, and there he was, standing on the other side, his expression brightening for a brief moment until his gaze flickered past you and landed on Jaemin. 

His face fell, the hurt in his eyes very visible as disappointment painted his face, the same disappointment you had when you saw him with his ex. Mark's mouth pressed into a thin line, his hands flexing at his sides.

"I... didn't know you had company." He muttered, stepping back, his voice thick with shame.

"Mark wait—" You started, but he shook his head, glancing between you and Jaemin.

"Looks like I'm interrupting something." he said, his voice low. "I'll leave you two to it."

Before you could say another word, Mark turned and walked away. You stood there, breathless, closing, but waiting, just incase he came back to give you a chance to explain.

"What the fuck is going on between you two?" Jaemin's voice cut through the silence. 

You turned back to him, looking numbly as you stayed silent.

"Weren't you just dating? What happened." He asked, obviously being unserious, giggling at his own comment. 

 You sighed, "We broke up." You murmured, opening the front door, signaling Jaemin to leave. 

"... Do you seriously like him?" Jaemin asked, looking at you with a face of disdain. 

You took a deep breath. "Jaemin get out."You said lowly, closing your eyes, trying to keep your composure as Jaemin made his way to the door.

Before he left out the door, he stopped, facing you, a smug look on his face as he raised his brow. "Can't say that I'm surprised, I've had a feeling even before we got together." He scoffed, rolling his eyes before walking out the door. 

You shut it behind him, taking a deep breath before sliding down the door, your legs too weak to stand. Everything you held in, what begged to be let out finally released. You sobbed heavily, wondering where it all went wrong. Your heart ached, feeling like it was torn out your torso and ripped in half, feeling the weight of the emptiness that settled in after Mark left. It made you feel more lost than you had before. How did you lose everything all at once? Whatever was there with you and Mark, it felt like it slipped away, just when it had started to feel real.  

────୨ৎ────

The days that followed your argument with Mark were unbearable. You hadn't spoken to him since, and that silence pressed down on you more than you had expected. You were heartbroken, not just because of the confusion and hurt surrounding the kiss, but because you missed him— like a lot. You missed the effortless connection, the late night talks and sleepovers, and the way things used to be before everything got complicated.

You stopped going out with the group, preferring to stay at home alone. Every notification from the group chat was a reminder of all the things that went wrong. You couldn't face Jaemin or anyone really, not with Mark lingering in your thoughts, every memory of him reopening the wound. From what you heard Mark wasn't showing up to anything either. It wasn't just you who was isolated, but that only made things worse. He had been your rock, your best friend, and now you didn't know where you stood with him at all. It felt like you two ruined each other. 

You thought about texting him, just something small to break the silence, but every time you opened the message app, you'd freeze. What would you even say? How could you explain the mess in your head when you couldn't even understand it yourself?

You were curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, the sound nothing more than white noise in your brain. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, but you ignored it, not having the energy to engage with anyone. The loneliness was suffocating, but reaching out felt impossible.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

You sat up, your heart immediately quickening. For a moment you wondered if it could be him, but you quickly brushed that thought aside. Why would he show up now, after all this time? You shuffled to the door, your fingers hesitant on the handle before pulling it open.

And there he was... Mark. He stood there, looking hesitant, his hands stuffed in his pockets. For a second, neither of you said anything, the staggered memories of the past few weeks hanging in the air.

"Mark..." you breathed, your voice shaky. You weren't sure if it was relief or anxiety.

He gave you a small, awkward smile. "Hey Y/n."

The awkward tension stretched between you, and you struggled to form words. Mark looked down at his feet, then back up at you with a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"Uh, Jaemin... Jaemin told me something the other day." He stated, and your stomach dropped at the mention of his name. "He said that... you liked me. Like, really liked me."

You froze, your heart slamming in your chest. He knew...

You were gonna kill Jaemin the next time you saw him, what is his problem with you, he's acting like you're the one who broke up with him, but before you said anything, Mark spoke again, his eyes widened, as if realizing he'd let the truth slip out too soon. 

"Shit. I—I wasn't supposed to say that." He stammered, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

"I mean, it's not like I didn't already... feel like something was there, but it's just—look, can I come in? We need to talk."

You stood there for a moment, stunned and unsure of how to respond. The vulnerability of having your feelings laid bare like this was terrifying, but there was a desperation in Mark's eyes that tugged at your heart. You stepped aside, nodding slightly, and he walked in, his presence both a comfort and a source of even more confusion.

You closed the door behind him, trying to brace yourself for whatever was about to happen. The silence felt heavy as you both sat down, neither knowing quite how to begin.

Mark's gaze softened as he looked at you, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet but sincere.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. For everything."

────୨ৎ────

The silence between you and Mark stretched on as you both sat there, the weight of all the unsaid words finally crashing down. Your heart was pounding and you could barely bring yourself to look at him. There had been so many moments, so many times when you wanted to tell him the truth, but fear had always kept you from doing it, but now, with him sitting right there, you knew you couldn't hide anymore.

Mark exhaled, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped like he didn't know where to begin. You couldn't take it anymore, the tension building, the raw ache inside your chest that had been growing for weeks. You swallowed hard, finally speaking. 

"I've always liked you Mark." You said, your voice trembling. His eyes snapped to yours, wide with surprise. "I've liked you for so long... but after the first time, after you chose her I had to move on. I couldn't sit around waiting for something that was never going to happen."

Mark's brows furrowed, like he was trying to process your words. "Wait... what do you mean?"

"Mark—" You giggled, but it came out more as a sigh. "I gave up when I realized you didn't like me back. That's what hurts the most. I've spent so long hiding how I feel, pretending that I was fine being your friend when all I wanted was for you to look at me the way you looked at her." You said, looking down, fidgeting with your fingernails.

"But Y/n... I did like you. Like a lot. I thought you and Jaemin were—" He stopped, fumbling for words. "I didn't think I even had a chance with you."

You let out a laugh. "You didn't think you had a chance? Mark, I've been right here, the entire time. You're the one who didn't see me. Or maybe you just didn't want to."

"That's not true," Mark said quickly, his eyes full of regret. "I saw you, Y/n. I've always seen you, but I thought you didn't think of me in that way. That's why I got with her and when we broke up, you and Jaemin started dating."

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I love Jaemin," you admitted, your voice quiet. "But I can't lie and say that he wasn't a distraction... from you." You said, turning to him. 

Mark seemed to flinch at your words, like they hit him deeper than he expected. "A distraction?" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. "It was easier, you know? To focus on Jaemin and have a crush on him instead, to tell myself that I'd moved on, but every time I saw you with her, every time you chose her, it broke something inside me. I couldn't take it anymore."

Mark's face twisted with emotion, a mix of sorrow and frustration. "I never meant to choose her over you, Y/n. I didn't even realize that's what I was doing. You were always the one I went to, the one I trusted. But I was an idiot, and I didn't see what was right in front of me."

The room was heavy with your words as you sighed, trying to push past the knot tightening in your chest. "It's ok. I guess it doesn't matter anymore. I'm glad we cleared the air so we can go back to being friends like we used to be."

You gave him a small smile, hoping it would ease the tension, but the moment the words left your lips, you could sense a shift in the air. Mark stiffened beside you, his body language betraying the discomfort your words had caused. He stared at you for a long, quiet second, and something in his gaze made you nervous. His usual easy going smile was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead with an expression that was difficult to read.

The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence. His leg was bouncing restlessly, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, like he was desperate to say something, but couldn't m find the words.

"But—" he mumbled, biting his lip nervously as his gaze remained on anything but you.

You blinked at him, confusion rippling through you. "But what?" you asked softly, your voice filled with curiosity and a bit of hope. You felt your heart rate pick up as you waited, suddenly aware of how close he was sitting.

Mark hesitated, his leg bouncing even faster now. He was clearly battling with himself, trying to decide if he should let the words out or hold them in. Finally, he took a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be your friend."

Your heart stopped. For a moment, you were certain you had misheard him. Your mind raced to process what he had just said, but the confusion only grew stronger. "Well then... I guess we're done here, aren't we?" you replied, your voice cracking as the emotions bubbled up.

Mark's eyes widened in panic, and for the first time, he looked genuinely shaken. He swallowed hard, trying to gather himself. "No, that's not what I mean." He said quickly, his hand reaching out slightly toward you but then pulling back before he made contact.

You tilted your head, watching him as his leg bounced even faster, his fingers now anxiously twisting his sleeve. His lips parted as if to say something, then closed again. The tension in the air was unbearable.

Finally, Mark's voice broke the silence, low and trembling. "I want to be more than friends Y/n..."

Your breath hitched. You weren't sure you had heard him correctly at first. Is Mark finally saying the thing you had waited to hear for so long? You stared at him full of disbelief, searching his face for any sign of a joke or hesitation. But there was none—his expression was completely serious.

He avoided your gaze, clearly nervous as he spoke again, his voice quiet. "I like you a lot Y/n. Even after all this time, I still do. I never stopped... I just—" He let out a shaky breath and finally looked you in the eyes.

"Do you still... like me?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible, and for the first time, you saw fear behind his eyes—fear of rejection, fear of ruining whatever was left between you.

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn't speak. Your feelings, the ones you had buried for so long, were rising to the surface again. The air thick with tension, you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you searched for the right words.

Finally, you nodded, slowly at first, then faster. "I do... I do still like you...so much." You whispered, the confession slipping from your lips before you could stop it. The moment the words left your mouth, you felt relief, like you were finally free of the weight that had been pressing down on you for so long.

Mark's face lit up at your words, his eyes shining with disbelief. He looked like he could hardly believe what he was hearing. 

"You do?" he asked, his voice full of hope and vulnerability.

You nodded again, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I've always liked you Mark. Even when I tried to move on, even when I was with Jaemin... it was always you."

Mark's breath hitched, reaching out, his hand gently brushing against yours. His touch was hesitant, like he was afraid you might pull away, but you didn't. You laced your fingers with his, holding onto him like you were afraid to let go.

"Do you... do you want to be with me?" he asked, his voice trembling as his hand tightened around yours.

Your lip trembled, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. This was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had dreamed of. But now that it was here, it felt overwhelming.

Instead of answering with words, you pulled him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around him as you buried your face in his shoulder. His scent was familiar, comforting, and you held onto him like you were gonna lose him.

Mark's arms wrapped around you just as tightly as he held you close. For a minute, neither of you said anything, just holding each other in silence.

Finally, you pulled back, cupping his face in your hands as you looked into his eyes, your heart was pounding in your chest.

"Yes," you whispered, a smile breaking across your face as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his. "I want to be with you."

Before he could respond, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that felt like it was years in the making. His lips were soft against yours, warm and gentle.

The kiss deepened, slow and tender. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right. There was no pretending, no hiding. It was just you and him, finally together, finally where you were supposed to be.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, you looked at him with a smile. "We finally have each other, for real this time." You whispered. 

Mark smiled back at you, his eyes full of love and warmth. "Yeah..." he said softly, pulling you close again. "We do."

────୨ৎ────

The evening was filled with laughter, You and Mark were sitting close, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair, a soft smile never leaving his face as he glanced at you every so often.

The group had decided on a night in, just movies, snacks, and a lot of catching up. It felt like old times again, but better—because this time, you had Mark by your side in a way you'd never had before. Every time your hands brushed, every shared glance, you felt your heart flutter. 

Jaemin, of course, wasn't letting the night pass without teasing. He smirked at the two of you as he leaned back into the couch. "Look at them" he rolled his eyes playfully, nudging someone beside him. "Lovebirds. It's like they've been together all this time. Who would've thought?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes but feeling no need to defend yourself this time.

Mark chuckled, his thumb brushing your arm lightly. "Man, it took us long enough."

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, pretending to be shocked. "Took you long enough? More like I had to shove you two together. Where's my matchmaking credit?"

The group laughed, and for a moment, everything just felt light, but the teasing wasn't quite over.

"So, Jaemin…" one of the others piped up, a mischievous grin spreading across their face. "You've been all about these smart remarks tonight... anything you want to tell us?"

Jaemin's face immediately flushed. "W-What? Me? Nah I'm just here for the drama, you know that." He said, waving it off.

"Sure…" The smirk on their face grew even wider. "Except, we've noticed you've been spending an awful lot of time with someone lately."

You perked up at that, exchanging a glance with Mark. She sat quietly on the other side of the room, raising her eyebrows in surprise, her cheeks turning pink. 

Jaemin opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was speechless for once.

Everyone burst into laughter. Jaemin couldn't stop himself from cracking a smile as he shook his head in defeat. "You guys are unbelievable."

Mark leaned over, whispering in your ear, "Guess we're not the only ones who needed a push, huh?"

“Mark Ive been known about it.”  You grinned, speaking purposely loud so everyone could turn to you. 

“How?” Jaemin asked, raising his eyebrow as everyone looked at you with questioning eyes. 

“She was the only one who wasn’t curious about why Me and Mark were holding hands when I was still with Jaemin. She knew about the break up before any of you knew.” You answered causing everyone to raise their eyebrows in realization.

“Dude… wait you’re right.” Mark added, looking at you with a small smile. 

“Oops…” Jaemin responded, everyone laughing at the squeak in his voice. 

As the night carried on, you found yourself taking little moments just to breathe in the atmosphere, to hold onto this feeling.

Every smile he gave you, every gentle touch, was like a stitch pulling the pieces to your heart back together. The pain you'd carried for so long was fading. Mark was helping you become whole again.

For the first time in a long time everything felt right and as you sat there, surrounded by laughter and love, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And as you looked around the room—at the friends who had stuck with you, at the boy who had once been your closest friend and was now so much more, you realized something.

You were finally happy.

Oh yeah… and his ex left the friend group! Xoxo

[eoieopda]

triple-dog dare | lsm

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario. 

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.

For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.

Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.

To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.

The day in question went like this:

He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”

And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”

It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.

The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus. 

“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “— and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”

You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

Fuck.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”

And he meant it, wholeheartedly. 

All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door. 

The way he saw it — and the way he��s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.

You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know…”

Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.

“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?” 

He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.

“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”

Fuck.

You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds. 

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario. 

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this. When the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.

Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.

Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.

Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.

When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.

The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.

“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath. 

Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks. 

She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”

Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years. 

“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”

Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough. 

This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.

“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.

“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”

The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.

Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.

Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”

Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling. 

“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.

“Well?” 

There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”

Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.

You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?” 

Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”

His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line. 

Bullseye.

“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”

You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view. 

“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.

He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.

The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.

That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.

Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.

Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.

You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.

Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls. 

No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.

It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.

Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.

“I got you bad, huh?”

You blink.

“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”

For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”

For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.

Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard’s in my pocket.”

You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.

“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?” 

“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”

There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step regardless of how late it is.

Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention. 

It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.

“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”

It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”

“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”

After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”

“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”

A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”

Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.

Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.

When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.

To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.

Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”

He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”

“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”

Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”

And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom.

The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no more bouncy and glowy than it was before.

When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.

“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.

Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.

“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.”

When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”

That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being. It’s rare for him.

“You okay, Thumper?”

It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him. 

He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.

At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.”  Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”

Ah.

There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.

You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”

He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”

And that’s that; it’s settled.

Or so you think.

A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”

“Deal.” 

You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy. His skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways. 

“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”

Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.

“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically. It does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.

“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”

Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Why did I even pack this?” You ask, “Do you see this?”

Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”

As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.

Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle. He has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.

Is it hot in here?

Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.

“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”

You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress. Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time. 

While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.

You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.

Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself. 

Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”

You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.

“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”

Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.

You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”

The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out. 

You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.

“Hey.” 

It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.

The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling. 

Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction. The creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.

“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”

Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, ready to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level. 

Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — to look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.

As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.

“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”

He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….

“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”

Petty, no. 

Psychic? Probably.

“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”

Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.

“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”

Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.

His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”

A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.

Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”

In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.

“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”

Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly  gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.

“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”

Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and “someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.

“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”

At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.

“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.

Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.

The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.

“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”

Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.

As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip. 

On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.

You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.

In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.

Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.

No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.

No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name. 

Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.

The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.

That’s it.

If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.

“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”

Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.

Soyeon’s eyes brighten. 

Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you’ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.

Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”

The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.

Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.

But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.”

For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.

Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.

“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”

It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.

Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.

“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”

Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”

“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.

This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.

“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.

The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.

“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.

His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, my god.”

You do.

The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.

You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.

He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time. 

“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.

Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”

“Oh?”

“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”

All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”

“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”

You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”

“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.

“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”

“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”

After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.

Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.

A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.

Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.

All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.

“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”

He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”

“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”

You open your mouth to argue.

“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”

You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.

It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.

Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on. 

Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others. 

She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”

Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.

“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.

You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.

Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.

Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”

You pick up on the subtext immediately. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens. 

Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.

Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Ah,” is the best you can do.

And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.

You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —

“He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.

Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.

It almost makes you tear up — Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”

No, you realize too late, it’s bait.

Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”

Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.

Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”

“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”

A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.

“Seokmin loves love.” 

She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull. 

“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”

Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term. 

You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.

She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —” 

Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another. 

“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”

Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is. 

Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?

The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be. 

You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s. 

He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.

What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?

Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper. 

“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just —  get the hell out of their way.”

By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voices validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.

You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.

He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.

All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.

Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.

If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?

Why would it hurt?

The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.

So, you won’t. 

You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.

That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.

“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?” 

He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.

Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.

The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.

“— and another thing!” She slurs.

There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.

“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”

Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.

“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”

Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.

Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”

“No!” His grandmother squawks. 

The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her. 

“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”

She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”

“Exactly. Can you —?”

He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.

By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.

“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.

The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking. 

Poor bastard.

Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”

“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake. 

Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.

Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.

The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.

No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.

Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”

Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”

In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.

On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all. 

Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.

You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.

“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”

The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation: 

You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.

But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.

“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is….” 

His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.

Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”

So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?”

“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”

Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.

Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”

His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.

He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.

That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll  push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.

You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”

There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.

“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.

Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”

Foot, meet mouth.

You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”

You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase. 

When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”

“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”

It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.

I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.

This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.

Seokmin jumps on the grenade.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.

For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.

“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.

You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.

You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”

Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.

Actually…

He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.

You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming. 

Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he? 

His hands are far too busy.

Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold. 

His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.

You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.

His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”

The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.

“You were right, though.” 

You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of your jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.

“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.

The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.

“How long —” 

You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance. 

“— have you been waiting to say that?”

Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”

You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.

Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.

“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”

When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.

“Is that why you’re still not naked?”

Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”

If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.

He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand. 

Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.

You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.

Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”

With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”

Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.” 

The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“But I’m taking you down with me.”

And you do.

So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.

You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.

What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom. 

As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.

You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.

When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”

Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.

You wail, “Noooooo!”

Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.

Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”

“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?” 

You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.

Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.

Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.

Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.

“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.

He beams. “Hi.”

“Why are we awake at this hour?”

That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”

“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek.

Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you.

“No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”

[seokminfilm]

i'll see you there tomorrow | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: none, fluff, lots of kissing & cuddling, reader is implied to be female ("honey", "babygirl"), mentions of children & pregnancy, dokyeom & you are happily married, wholesome couple things

playlist: hip shop (deltarune ost) & a girls feelings (sailor moon ost)

"Is she finally sleeping?" Sighing from your place in the bed, your eyes meet your husband's broad back as he nods, tucking the small baby blanket up to her chin before he turns back around. His brown hair is still damp from the shower he had just taken a few minutes ago, and his plaid sleeping set smelled like lavender....and baby formula, to which you attested to as being from his accidental spill.

"Yeah, honey, she's out like a light." Seokmin's voice is quiet as to not wake the newborn up, and he makes his way back to his side of the bed quietly, glancing at his phone once more before turning it on silent mode and sliding in beside you.

The past month had been hell for you and Seokmin. The two of you were introducing a new baby girl named Mimi into the world, and had to spend most of your evenings rocking her to sleep, making sure she was fed well, and had enough diapers to last her for the night.

She, like her father, was a light sleeper, and needed the room to be absolutely quiet or she wouldn't go to bed. Mimi was stubborn, even at two months old, and she cried and cried until Seokmin rocked her back to sleep and quietly left her alone.

The two of you had to learn the hard way, though, and most of your night was filled with the two of you playing rock paper scissors half-asleep to choose who would rock Mimi after she started to cry from the startup hum of the air conditioning at three in the morning.

"She's so cute, Seokmin," You sigh, baby fever hitting you like a brick. From your vantage point in your queen-sized bed, the bassinet held tiny little Mimi safely, and you could see her small face and beanie-covered head through the protective railing.

"She is. And she's ours." Seokmin turns to you, body warm and toned as he scoots closer to your spot in the bed. Taking the hint, you lean in as well, body pressed to Seokmin's chest as his toned arms encase you in his heat. Smiling under him, you kiss his neck, to which the man above you gasps in surprise and chuckles quietly.

"Shhh, you're going to make me wake Mimi," Seokmin wears a pout, but you ignore him, pecking him a few more times (with a few more gasps tumbling from your husband's lips), before you finally lay off.

"Ahh, I missed this. Missed you, Minnie." You knew exactly what you were talking about—you missed spending time alone with Seokmin whenever you wanted.

You missed having late nights together doing nothing but showering each other with love and spending time with each other. You missed having no worries other than deciding on takeout for dinner and what movies to watch during late night snacking sessions.

"I missed you more, baby girl. Mimi was the best thing to happen to us, but also limited a lot of our time with each other." Seokmin's hands slide under your shirt, meeting your cold back as he rubs it gently.

You giggle at his cold fingertips, but soon become still as it starts to calm you down. Your head is pressed into Seokmin's chest, and you can feel his warm skin touching yours as you sigh.

"She's so greedy." You pout, and Seokmin chuckles quietly, pecking your nose as he grins at you. "She's just like her mama."

You don't deny your husband's allegations, giggling into his chest as his chest heaves and falls with his own uncontrollable chuckles. The room is warm with the feeling of love, and you're sure even Mimi can feel it, as she shuffles in her bed, a small sound resembling a giggle coming from the bassinet.

"Did you hear that?" Seokmin raised an eyebrow, his contagious smile causing your cheeks to burn with your own as his eyes sparkled in the lamp light.

"She just giggled, yeah." You finish his sentence, and Seokmin's lips turn into a pout as he whispers, "Mimi just giggled, honey! Isn't that amazing?"

The excitement in your husband's eyes made you melt a little, and you nodded as Seokmin's hands lightly brush over your stomach, making you giggle.

"Is your tummy still hurting?" Seokmin knew that your c-section must have been painful, but he still heard you complaining about the ache even now. You nodded, humming as he allowed you to turn your back to him, letting him run his hands across your healing stomach. "A little bit, but it's better than the first two weeks."

"Well good. I don't want you to hurt forever, honey." He kisses the shell of your ear and your neck slyly, watching how your face scrunches up with the delicate touch.

"I won't. The doctor said it'll heal quickly soon. Mimi was just a lot to take out." You chuckle, glancing back at the bassinet. Mimi's small eyes are still closed, and she sleeps curled up, lips in a small smile as you lean into Seokmin's warmth.

"We love you, Mimi." Seokmin whispers, and you laugh quietly, nodding as your hands drop to meet Seokmin's at your stomach.

"We love you, Mimi."

"And we love each other." Seokmin leans down and buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing kisses up and down the side of your neck, shell of your ear, and even pecking your collarbone a few times.

"We do." You sigh dreamily, letting Seokmin kiss your worries away.

lyr's note: thank you all so much for 250 likes and 25 reblogs?? tumblr has actually been the kindest & quickest community to welcome me ☹ i hope i can continue to provide you with silly dk-related content to satisfy the silly dokyeom girlies out there (me included)!! i may write for more members in the future, but for now (until the poll is completed and even AFTER that), dokyeom will always be the main attraction 🤭 ALSO don't be afraid to request something!! it'll take a bit as i'm busy during the weekdays with school & other activities, but i'll do it, as long as i'm comfortable/okay with it 💖

[hanjisung-enjoyer]

thinking about being drunk in the back of a car with minho…

tags: drunken decisions!!!!, bsf!lee minho x afab!reader, kissing, making out, spit, fingersss, no actual smut but kind of implied, driver!changbin is fed up

author’s note: not sure if this is considered dubcon due to drunken consent but if you don’t like don’t read!! both characters are functioning and understanding of what’s going on despite drinking, NEVER hook up with someone who is past the point of awareness.

purely fiction, minors dni

you probably shouldn’t have drank as much as you did- if your blurry vision was anything to go by.

as fuzzy as everything around you felt, minho’s beauty suddenly stuck out to you clearer than it ever had before. you never really took in how perfect his features were; his perfectly sculpted nose now scrunched up cutely between two sharp, feline like eyes that currently struggled to maintain focus on changbin, the designated driver of the night, as he attempted to hold a conversation with the tipsy man.

“min,” you eventually whispered. his eyes flickered towards you, to which you finally got to admire his dark orbs under a slight state of intoxication. his eyes were more than alluring; you’d have no problem stare into them forever.

“hmm?” he questioned, his voice low and husky to match the faintness of your own. you didn’t immediately respond, being too busy admiring his features. your attention travelled down to his pink lips: they still looked wet from the drinks he was previously taking down, glistening from the reflection of the moon through the car window. “…what?” he asked again, his voice curious yet playful as his lips turned up in a smirk.

“…nothing,” you reply. “you just look nice.”

‘nice’ is not the word you wanted to use. best friends tell each other they look nice all the time. ‘you look nice’ is the phrase you use to compliment each other before a first date or when dolling yourselves up for a night out.

maybe it’s just because your sex life had been rather dry recently, but what you really wanted to tell him was how hot he was making your body feel. just being next to him and appreciating his features made your face flush with a heavy and sudden lust. minho’s fierce eyes were lidded and faded, yet you still felt intimidated under his gaze. the way he was staring into you, trying to decipher your true intentions, had your thighs shifting together- a small detail that failed to go unnoticed by minho.

“i look nice?” he repeated in a slur. his hand landed on your leg under the guise of holding his balance when the car drove over a small bump. your lower region tingled up at the light touch. “you look nice,” he replied.

“no,” you simply responded, turning your face away from his. he leaned closer, his face following yours. he cocked his head to the side to try and read your face that avoided him so persistently. your cheeks were now visibly red, feeling unbelievably warm from his close proximity.

“no? but you always look nice.” his pretty lips were molded into a pout when you finally faced him again. his body was now extremely close to yours, his leg only a hairs length away from pressing against yours.

you tried to look into his eyes again, you truly did, but his lips look much more enticing in your buzzed state. despite minho’s clouded mind, he was certainly alert to where your lidded eyes settled on his face. you merely whined in response to his compliment, the only form of reply you could manage, before he took your cheek in his palm. “you know you always look good, right?” he practically purred, forcing you to finally make eye contact.

his fingers trailed from your cheek and down to your chin, and now it was his turn to stare at your pretty lips. electricity ran through your body under his intense gaze. your lips subconsciously fell into a pout, presenting them deliciously to minho’s view.

it felt like forever before he finally leaned in with a hum, kissing your lips slowly and tenderly.

the way he kissed you was a contrast to his feisty personality. his lips moved against yours in a steady rhythm, taking his time as if it was the last time he’d ever lay his lips on another human. for how riled up he had you, you weren’t expecting him to pace you like this. his hand that wasn’t resting on your chin rubbed at your thigh, pulling small noises from your mouth that vibrated through the passionate kiss.

you could taste the alcohol lingering on his tongue when he finally welcomed it into your mouth. you took initiative in intensifying the kiss, an unexpected bout of courage leading you to bite down softly on his bottom lip. his eyes opened momentarily, catching yours as you mentally panicked that you may have crossed a line. you didn’t have a lot of time to overthink it, because minho eagerly returned the gesture after a moment’s time, pulling at your bottom lip between his teeth as he groped your thigh with a little more fervor. the man was practically straddling you at this point.

you had to stop yourself from moaning out, nearly forgetting about changbin in the front seat of the car. as if on cue, you heard a loud gasp of your names coming from the front of the car.

“yah! what are y- in my car???” changbin cried as he met your eyes in the rear view mirror. your face flushed and you hid yourself in minho’s neck.

“we’re just kissing, relax!” minho scoffed in response, settling back into his seat.

“i don’t care! it starts as kissing, then kissing turns to fucking in the back of my car!”

in the midst of changbin’s complaints, you watched minho’s fingers lift up to his lips in the corner of your eye. his digits slid past his bow-shaped lips momentarily, returning to your view coated in a thick layer of saliva. your wide eyes followed his slender fingers as they drew closer to your face, your mouth unwillingly gaped open. he tapped two fingers on your bottom lip, an unspoken request that you gladly obeyed.

your lips captured his spit-covered fingertips, little by little taking in the whole length of his digits. your lidded eyes maintained contact with his steady gaze. if it wasn’t for the prominent tent in his pants that twitched at each swirl of your tongue, you wouldn’t think he was phased by your actions at all. it felt messy, you felt like taking everything he would give you, and he was absolutely dominating your mind.

his fingers curled down your throat, triggering a small gag that had changbin whipping his head around and losing control of the car.

“what the f- can you guys NOT?”

to that, minho practically lunged at you, instantaneously replacing his fingers with his mouth and pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips. the kiss sounded as messy as it felt. his tongue danced around yours in a lustful exchange of saliva that drooled down your own chin.

it was over as soon as it started though, or at least it felt like it. minho pulled his whole body away from you and once again sat back in his designated seat under harsh glares from the irritated driver.

changbin sighed out, visibly aggravated at the two of you. “minho if you’re not in the front seat in ten seconds, i’m calling the cops and asking them to pull me over.”

you peeked over at minho who exchanged an amused glance with you. he leaned over to level his lips with your ear. “stay at mine tonight?” he practically purred, his fingers ghosting over your thigh and his breath tickling your neck. you nodded a little too quickly, to which minho smirked and patted your leg. he then stood up and crawled across the body of the car, taking his place next to changbin in the passengers seat and muttering a small “cockblocker” under his breath.

in a clouded state of drunk and horny, you didn’t care much about the sober consequences that the next day would bring. you missed his presence next to you, but you knew he’d make up for it once you were both finally out of this damned car.

[idkmanwtfishumanityanymore]

CAN WE ALL JUST TAKE A QUICK MOMENT, AND TALK ABOUT EARTH NOT ONLY TEASING LUNAR FOR LAUGHING, BUT ALSO COMPLIMENTING ECLIPSE’S LAUGH???

I AM GOING TO EXPLODE BRO WHAT.

I’M GOING TO SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUS-💥

[anxious-lee-ler]

You absolutely KNOW Solar tickled the hell outta both Sun and Lunar when he caught them (after the two tried to 'fix' Spaniard)- They definitely got fussed at, but I can see Solar calling up Moon to help him wreck the other two huhuhu >:3c

[starkitxxz]

I wrote this at 1am

Nightly visit☁

!!non-consensual touching, implied SOMNOPHILIA!!

The starry night sky wrapped the whole place like a blanket, small white dots appeared as the moon glowed in the midst of the void. Street lights flickered every minute, the warm light bulb it had given out. But it was enough to guide Sol Brugmansia to your lovely abode.

Every step he took, it was silent. Emptiness filled him – but he longed to see you. His heart ached, he yearned to have a minute of your time. A minute of your smile on your face because of him.

Or perhaps your lingering touch, brushing against his bandaged hand

He recognized everything about you, including where you place your furniture in your home. He hated seeing that slug in a photo frame. He wished it was him, beside you, in that printed paper.

He wished to be with you, to hold you and know you're his. He could not bear the thought of you being with Crowe. Ugh, the mere mention of his name makes him ill.

What does he have that Sol doesn’t?

He stood in front of his soulmate’s door, a silver key in his palm – inserted into the keyhole. And he knew, You fail to ignore such necessities missing from your ID.

Upon entering, his heart skipped a beat.

"Fuck, you’re so beautiful…"

He muttered under his breath. The glimmering moonlight highlighted your face. Displaying your beauty in front of the beast before you.

Sol approached you, his reddish orange orbs focused on you. He never fully focused on anything but you. You are on his walls. His phone gallery. His mind. Everything possible.

He lifted your arm and dropped it, a chuckle escaped his mouth. A heavy sleeper you are.

Or maybe you took something that made you so sleepy

He better thank Hyugo for this

A grin appeared on his face, it’s funny how easy you trusted him. How easy it took you to take it. So naive, Sol preferred it that way.

The last thing he wanted for you to find out was how awfully obsessed he is.

Heck, the word obsessed isn’t enough to describe what he is

He kneeled beside the bed frame, tucking a strand behind your ear. Taking in your pretty, sleeping face that he adores so much.

Gazing at your lips, he wanted it to meet his – so you will be his, like what he envisioned to happen.

He nuzzled on your neck, taking a whiff of your scent. You smell so fucking good. Like a dangerously addictive drug. It drove him nuts.

He began to nibble and bite a spot on your neck, earning a whimper from you. It sent shivers down his spine, as a mark started to form.

"Oh darling, you have no idea what you’re doing to me," He whispered, sucking the mark. A mark that will surely be visible on your neck, to the eyes of many – especially him, knowing he created that mark.

Another whimper escaped your lips. His breath hitched, kissing the small hickey he created.

"You’re so ticklish, pumpkin – even the sounds you make, it makes me want to fuck you"

Not long after that, he places his thumb on your bottom lip. Caressing it. He craved to kiss you so badly – to feel your lips, to know you’re his.

After all, YOU belong to him.

You���re his soulmate, his beloved, his maiden by the name of Annabel Lee

He pressed his lips against yours, warmth surrounded him. Claiming you as his, not Crowe. He was dying for this, he desired to be with you alone in this room – kissing you.

"I love you so much…"

He mumbled as he leaned back. Looking at you like a valuable possession – too valuable and pretty to be shared with. Admiring your perfect features, ignoring your flaws. To him, you don’t have flaws.

You’re everything he could love about you

Staring at the figure before him, he smiled and took a picture of you. Adding it to his phone album full of photos of you.

He stood up and walked to the door, giving you one last look. Holding his phone in his hand. He hoped that it would be your hand that only he would hold soon.

"See you tomorrow, pumpkin," He said, before twisting the door knob.

And with that, he left.

[cherubfae]

𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔵 𝔗𝔑𝔅ℭ 𝔞𝔲}

What if all this power as an Overlord has grown tiring for Alastor? Sure, he likes it. But can he even hope to yearn for something different? Could helping the hotel be his missing piece? Could you?

tags: gn!afab!reader, half-ragdoll!sinner!reader, Jack Skellington!Alastor, hurt/comfort, loneliness, implied abuse, blood/gore, protective!Alastor, friends to lovers

From his little corner of Hell, Alastor could see the pale white moon embedded in the red sea sky from his radio tower. On a rare night where the moon could be seen so clearly, it left a deep sense of melancholy within his chest; even his dead heart ached.

All of his years as an Overlord seemed to drain him. Bartering souls had been his greatest pleasure, and sure, he was rather powerful but now that he had all this power; what was it worth to keep gaining? He was already one of the most feared. He sought out a new career path, to become Hazbin's hotelier to rehabilitate demons! It gave him a spark of interest that had been lost in him for centuries. Everything came easy to Alastor. Everything except you.

What a simply fascinating creature you were! Able to unstitch your limbs and sew them back together good as new! He considered you one of his dearest friends, a lovely thought always lingering in the back of his mind. Yet time and time again you seemed to slip away into the night before he could say anything, or even thank you for the lovely vintage wine you'd gifted him. Like a whisper in the dark, you had disappeared.

Not even Rosie had seen you. Which was growing more and more worrisome with the more the hours ticked on by. Where could you have gone? Were you alright? It was an uncommonly chilly night in Hell, thanks to an ice demon casting a spell over the lands as of recent. It was certainly no weather to be out and about in if one could help it.

The Radio Demon was aware of the unsavory living conditions you kept living with your adopted father and self-appointed 'creator' (which was wholly untrue), Dr. Twisttike, having invited you to live at the Hazbin Hotel. Even Charlie, Princess of Hell, had cordially invited you but the two were unaware of just how tightly you were bound to an over- controlling demon. One who claimed that he made you, therefore you were his.

Shaking his head, Alastor fretted over his blueprints for a new radio tower design, yet that inescapable feeling of dread continued to gnaw at his bones like a starved dog. He runs his hand over his face, down the red pinstriped suit, stopping to adjust his black buck shaped bowtie. Its glimmering red eyes blinked. This will simply not do. He needed to find you.

Hidden away, locked inside of your 'room' once more by the demon who held your chain so tightly, you weep silently to yourself. "And will he see how much he means to me?"

"Will you stop that dreadful singing?" Dr. Twisttike hissed, grasping your glowing pale blue chain and yanking you harshly. You fall to your knees, scraping your hands against the dirty concrete. Red abrasions collected on your palms, threatening to break the surface of your skin. "Your lover boy, Alastor, won't be coming for you, dear. You think you can keep up with a demon such as him? Look at yourself. You can't even keep your stitches together. Next time I make a ragdoll, I'll make one out of proper cloth and not flesh like you. All you do is cry and bleed." Clicking his tongue, he leaves you crying on the cold ground.

With your knees tucked to your chest, you sigh. That brute of a man--demon, oftentimes left you more undone than anything else did. Constantly pulling apart your stitches and not letting you put yourself back together. He almost let you catch fire a few weeks ago. Sure, none of this could kill you. But that didn't mean that it doesn't hurt when it happens.

Standing to look out your window, you hum to yourself. You could see the peak of Alastor's radio tower from here, the full moon rising behind like a great beacon. An immense sense of longing filled your body, you hoped he was looking at the same moon and feeling the same way as you. With a gasp, you slip through the partially opened gap and allow yourself to fall to the cobblestone. More abrasions and bruises from, your blood coagulating from your missing limbs.

Plucking out a needle from behind your ear, you begin to sew yourself back together, hissing softly around a particular tender area. Standing on rather wobbly feet at first until you break out into a sprint before your Overlord can know you've left. Your other arm was left behind, but you couldn't be bothered with that now. You needed to get away, heading towards the highest hill of town, near Alastor's tower.

Alastor frantically searches around town. There's still no sign of you anywhere. Dread continues to eat away at him, until he finds himself standing outside the gates of your home. The dread boils away into anger. Your sweet scent lingers in the air mixed with the scent of blood and fear. You were hurt. Bleeding. He wills himself to calm down, his claws bending through metal gates as he pushes them open with brute force.

"Ah, Alastor! Welcome, welcome, come in my dear boy!" Dr. Twisttike's serpentine tail swishes behind him, allowing the tall redhead into the cramped and dingey house.

Even for Hell's standards, the old and decrepit house was absolutely deplorable. A sulfuric musty smell hung in the air, damp with black mold and cobwebs clinging to every viable rafter.

Tension wafted through the air, Alastor's scarlet eyes turning into radio dials. In an instant, he's turned into his full demon form, mouth sewn by green stitches. A glowing green chain wraps taught around Dr. Twisttike, sending him to the ground with a harsh thud.

"Where are they?" Alastor's neck cracks at an ungodly angle, the echo of screams surrounding him. When Twisttike fails to speak, Alastor yanks the chain harshly, his heeled shoe slamming down onto the demon's claw, snapping it clean off. Black inky blood oozes from the putrid wound. "I won't ask again, good man. Where are they?"

Dr. Twisttike rasps, "Upstairs! Their bedroom! Please, stop!" Alastor snaps his fingers, the demon's limbs and extremities are bound by glowing green rope.

Alastor thunders up the spiral staircase. "My dearest! Are you here?" His eyes are frantic, wild. His ears stand alert, waiting for any sign of your lovely voice calling out to him. The only answer he receives is a perplexing silence. He rounds the corner to enter your door lies and snarls. "A cell? You keep my darling in a goddamned cell?"

Blowing the door off the hinges, Alastor surveys the small, cramped room. There's a bare bed with a single flimsy blanket and ragged old pillow. Small splatters of bloodstains stain those sheets. A tiny dresser to the right of the bed holding a single analog clock that seems to have stopped working long ago. The walls are bare of any color and character, with peeling paint and black mold scuttled around the corners of the ceiling like soot sprites. Everything he knows that you love and adore does not reflect in your room. There was no personalization, there was no you. It's uncomfortably damp. It was nothing short of a miracle that you weren't sick.

"You pitiful creature, keeping my beloved in such conditions. Why I should--," Alastor's sentence does in the back of his throat, noticing something half-hanging out the window. A dismembered arm, the thread of your stitches caught on a rusty nail. Carefully expecting it, he gently traces the stitch marks. "Hmm, it appears I have no more use for you, Dr. Twisttike."

A sickening squelch echoes throughout the house as Dr. Twisttike's body splatters all across the walls. Alastor's slithering tentacle removes itself from the corpse, shaking off the blood before retreating into his back. There isn't much left of the poor fool other than the remains of his guts and brain matter. Alastor carefully dabs his cheek free of blood, holding your severed arm close to his chest. He exits, form swallowed by darkness and shadow. Behind him, the home ignites into hellish green flames.

It did not take long for Alastor to find you. You nearly took his breath away. Your gaze is so beautiful and forlorn, sitting on a hill with the clearest view of the large full moon. The silver light casts delicate shadows against your skin as you hum a soft song to yourself. What a true, ethereal beauty you are.

"My dearest friend," rumbles Alastor, his tone a delicate purr. You stand in surprise, which quickly melts into a delicate smile. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join you by your side. Where we can gaze into the stars," Alastor gently reattached your arm, green magic carefully sewing it back on you.

"And sit together."

"Now and forever."

"For it as plain as anyone could see, we're simply meant to be." With a gentle embrace, Alastor presses his lips to yours, tugging you into his arms and off the chilly ground.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[gladiatorcunt]

- DIRT IN CHAINS | X.

i can’t wait for the nights with you, i imagine the things we’ll do

cw: kinktober prompt (feet), semi crack treated seriously (he just comes back and says footjob. now.), pseudo incest (step brother & step sister), no shelly or chris 💀, set in the 90’s with brandon lee’s eric, small-ish age gap (reader’s in her early 20’s), fem ballerina!reader, random kurt cobain crush mention, implied inappropriate behavior when reader was 18 and after (nothing explicit but it could be seen as done with certain intent), attempted non con mention (not involving eric or reader)

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

Body of my body, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

If you serve a chunk of still bleeding meat to a gruesome stray dog, then that is love. If you toss a coin to a crow with a glint in its beady eyes, that too is love. Even when you scoff and grumble at the perceived inconvenience and continue your jaunt down the muddy alleyway. You are assuring an animal that you believe it deserves to have its hunger sated and tended to like a toothache. don’t be surprised when gangrene sets in around your ankles and wrists, bracelets made of red jade. They bite for the same reason that you sharpen their teeth and beaks with roadkill and gemstones. It is life’s greatest gift to ever be well fed, such neglect can open a void from which there is no escape. If only your heart could plug up the hole.

The most painful sentences in existence are hypotheticals that start with if. That's why this will be nothing of the sort, hunting season will be successful.

Your step brother Eric was shot about a month ago the night before halloween, and you’re coping by robotically moving through life as if it couldn’t happen to you too. It’s all too easy to succumb to the panic and the grief but you’ve never been wired that way, it’s safer for you to retreat into a cocoon of numbness.

You don’t want to think about where the woman he saved from being raped is, as happy as you are that she’s okay. Knowing any of that would only remind you of the knife Eric got thrown into his back before he was thrown from her apartment window. He lived in the same building and like the good guy your step brother was at heart, burst in the room with the best intentions.

His good deed got him killed, and all you’ve done is play his music on repeat as you rot in your bed. He’d want you to continue your ballet career, hell, he showed up to your recitals and performances more than your own mother. You always ignored how his presence made you feel simultaneously relaxed and confident but also so stressed you’d be worried about pissing yourself on the stage.

Wide smiles and long dark hair that glistened in the theater’s warm lightning, he would always be the one to stand up and whistle first.

Eric’s favorite ballet was your ballet company’s Swan Lake. He kept a picture of you as Odette in one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your parents had only been married 4 years, but you’ve changed a lot from the starry eyed 18 year old that mooned over your older step brother and tripped over your pointe shoes.

Your dad started teaching you how to play guitar before he left, when you were 5 and your chubby hands plucked at the wrong strings. Eric wouldn’t leave you alone when you told him the story, and spent an entire weekend getting you caught up on your missed lessons until you both had a swarm of blisters on your fingers.

Now you’ll never see him again, never get caught in the rain when you’ve begged him to drive you home and wish you could tuck a strand of his wet hair behind ear, never hump your pillow and muffle your sounds into your balled up fists because he’s staying in the next room and you have to be quiet.

You’ll never see him with his band again, caught in that weird space between a groupie and a supportive family member. He liked to embarrass you, make big shows out of looking directly at you and coming to the edge of the stage to poke your cheek. He’d ruffle your hair and your cheeks would be so hot, one wrong burst of electricity from the wires attached to their instruments and you’d go up in flames.

You never told your mom but you always wanted a brother, you should’ve known you weren’t gonna have him for very long.

Hangman’s Joke. God, you wish.

“Hey, peach, ya miss me?”

Hand on your heart you think you’re dreaming at first, but you’ve never really had any dreams where Eric was front and center. He haunts all your other ones, regular strange ones where you’re running around department stores and fucking Kurt Cobain but someintes he turns into your step brother, sometimes you fuck them both.

You shoot up in bed, the straps of your lavender silk nightie slip down your shoulders so you pull them back. It’s the middle of the night, and your vision is blurry, but when your eyes focus properly you see him standing in front of your bed.

It’s Eric, your brother, you don’t even care if there was a gas leak overnight that’s got you fucked up or if this reslly is a dream. You can’t pretend to be fine anymore if he’s right here in front of you, suddenly there’s an umbrella over your head in the pouring rain again.

“Eric, oh my god, what the fuck! How are you even- I mean- How the fuck are you alive?”

He sighs, tonguing his cheek and shaking his head. “I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise, ‘m tired, peach. Missed my girl, didn’t she miss me?”

It’s a little cruel because of course you have, but the dulcet tones lull you into nodding. You don’t want to cry, and you’re scared to reach out to touch him because of the chance that he might disappear. Eric’s haunted eyes soften, and he intertwines his bizarrely muddy fingers with yours. There’s warmth, and maybe it’s just your hummingbird heart but you feel a soft rhythmic thumping under his skin.

It’s different, slow as molasses, more like the chiming of a grandfather clock. But Jesus fucking Christ he’s real.

Your sham of a facade shatters as you bring your joined hands down to your breasts, forcing his knuckles to press into your sternum.

Eric pushes you back down on the bed, his knees dig into the mattress on either side of your hips. His stare is intense, dark and enticing as he reaches down to curl his hand around your calves.

“I used to be obsessed with uh, vampires, ain’t that a bitch?” He chuckles, massaging your ankles and staring off into space. “All that mysticism and unimaginable power and all I could focus on was the way they talked about their cravings. How they get hunger pangs like a normal fuckin’ and it’s bearable until it’s not, it consumes them like they’re boilin’ from the inside out.”

You suck in a breath, Eric’s eyes flick over to you immediately.

“Then I look at you and i’m right back in rehab, toes curlin’ at the thought of getting high again. I think I know how those bloodsuckers feel.”

“Eric- Don’t say that.” Your heart seizes up, but you keep yourself from falling off the ledge.

He kisses your ankle, his black lipstick leaving a stain as he leaves a trail of carnage up to your toes. His lips split wide on a fox’s smile, slipping his tongue in the crease between your toes and sucking each one clean, almost like he’s trying to eat your flesh off the bone. He nuzzles his nose into the sole and inhales deeply, taking in the dirt you didn’t wash off in the shower, the plastic hospital smell from your bath mat, your cherry almond scented body wash.

“Yes, all i fuckin’ need, right here.” He whispers, staring at you dead in your eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to taste the high arch of your foot as his hand caresses your still bruised toes. But they’re faded, you quit ballet a long time ago.

“You have pretty feet, y’know that? Always liked helping you lace up your slippers.” Eric laughs “You’d get so fussy about me doin’ them properly but you’d kiss my cheek after, all sweet on me.”

He lavishes every inch of both your feet with his tongue in broad strokes, making out with your toes because he can’t resist sucking them into his mouth one more time.

You moan, fisting your hands in your nightie, your step brother’s back from the afterlife apparently and the first thing he wants to do is get a footjob from his step sister.

Eric tucks his hair behind his ears so he doesn’t have to bother with it for right now, you can tell that this is like one of those moments on stage, he wants your full attention.

He’ll always have it.

You’re the one that pulls your feet out of his grip to slide them down to his crotch. You keep eye contact as you massage his clothed bulge with your toes, rubbing your heel into his balls and applying light pressure here and there.

You blink up at him, too innocent and too worn down by life already all at the same time, “Like that, big brother? Does that feel good?”

Eric grunts, wrapping his hands back around your ankles and pushing your feet further onto his cock.

“Yeah, peach, feels so fuckin’ good, holy shit. Just like that, keep doin’ me like that, baby.”

You bite your lip, nearly tearing through the skin in your efforts to make your newly risen step brother jizz in his ripped jeans. You wish you had psychic powers and had the foresight to know he was coming over, you would’ve put on those socks with the frilly edges and a red rose stitched on the white fabric.

But he’s so worked up from this already, he’s breathing heavily and rocking his hips forward to hump your feet. He’s grinding his teeth together, already so close to unraveling from how much of a little tease you’re being.

You hum and turn your right foot to ghost the edge of your toenail around the tip of his cock. He groans as he twitches and a bead of pre seeps through his clothes, you can trace the outline of his length so clearly you know he’s not wearing any underwear.

The look in his crazed eyes reminds you of all the times he’d take you to the attic of his loft, making up scary stories and playing guitar with you. When you turned 21 he surprised you with a cheesy golden heart shaped locket, with a picture of you two at your parent’s wedding, joking about how awkward you look with each other there. Eric’s penguin style suit and your agitated face that’s partially covered by gaudy turquoise puffy cap sleeves.

He chuckled and said that every time you look at it, you’ll feel nothing but happiness for what those two losers are about to experience.

Part of that experience is you curling your feet around his clothed cock while giving him just enough of a view of your hairy pussy, you forgot to put a pad on so there’s some blood trickling out of you that Eric is just so utterly enraptured by.

His groans are death rattles now, long and pain stricken, at some point he stops humping your feet and lets you worship him like this. Eric kneeling above you, drooling deep in the back of his throat at the sight of his baby sister caressing his painfully hard dick with her cute dancer’s feet.

Your mind is filled with all the pretty shoes you can put on and do this again, you just got a new camera as an early birthday present too.

“You can come if you promise not to leave again, Eric, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself this time.” You promise, digging the ball of your feet into his perineum.

“I crawled out of the earth back to you, didn’t I? Couldn’t let my sweet peach perform alone, she gets stage fright.”

He comes in his pants and you continue to gingerly move your feet along his length, soaking up the cum that wets your toes like a sunflower does sunlight at golden hour.