#I still don’t know what these are called lol

[lowkeyerror]

Always There

Agatha Harkness x Vampire!Reader x Rio Vidal

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Non-major character death, depictions of violence, graphic violent content (blood, mob violence/torture, detailed wounds), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, small mention of suicial tendencies, italics=past

Summary: Vampire reader has had a casual relationship with Agatha and Rio, but eventually too many years pass since their last encounter, the vampire starts to wonder if they still cared for her.

An: Posting this immediately after I finished writing it. Hope you enjoy. Likes, replies, reblogs, and all of that are appreciated 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Edit: Not me saying itallics and forgetting to actually put them lol

Masterlist

You’ve had a casual fling with Agatha and Rio for as long as you can recall. There’s a stereotype about witches coming and going as they please, and you find it to be frustratingly true.

It's easier to get ahold of Rio than Agatha, which is ironic considering that Rio is literally Death. With the title comes the job, so all you truly needed to get a glimpse of her was a body. Perhaps you could arrange the carcasses in a way that said ‘stay with me forever’.

As a vampire, you had time to wait. There was no rush, which is how you believe things got so casual. You could never forget how you met the pair.

At the time angry mobs were running rampant, looking for anyone to persecute. You were a known vampire living not to far from a village. They hunted you for sport. There were many of them that you killed, but eventually they were able to ambush you. When they did, they used wooden spikes to pin you to a large ‘X’ that they built. The scars from were they impaled your flesh still present today.

They tortured you; punching, spitting, stabbing, you had eventually lost track of time after a few hours. The need for blood weakening you enough to where breaking free was nearly impossible.

They’d come in shifts for the torture and leave only one person to watch you in the night. That was their only flaw. You didn’t expect anyone outside of the village to come across you, but someone did.

Your head was hung low, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. You raised it slightly, to see the guard that was supposed to be watching you, dead on the floor.

“You don’t look too well.”

It had been days since you had tried to speak, so your voice was hoarse, “I wouldn’t think so.”

“What are you? Only someone different, is worth all of this trouble,” a different voice spoke.

Your eyes look to where the voices are coming from, but you only see shadows. Your tongue is dry as it passes over your bloody chapped lips.

“Vampire,” you mumbled.

“Help me get her down.”

When they approached, you finally got a good look at them. You couldn’t help but stare at their features. Both youthful with rosy cheeks. Rio’s large brown eyes caught your attention immediately, warm yet hiding something. Agatha’s features were sharper, her cheekbones, her jawline, even her eyes.

“This will hurt,” Rio examined the wood embedded into your skin.

“I know,” you spoke weakly.

You expected them to pull the spikes out with their hands. Instead your eyebrows furrowed when purple and green tendrils of magic worked around the spikes. Instead of 4, painfully slow, agonizing moments, there was only one rough pull, before your body fell off of the ‘X’. Only your knees hit ground as Agatha and Rio held up the rest of your body.

Your full weight pushed against them as your head rested in between their shoulders, “Thank you.”

“Hungry?”

Your eyes glowed a dim red, “I could drain a village.”

“Bloodthirsty, even in this state?” Agatha teased.

“Especially in this state,” you corrected.

You could hardly move, but you attempted to stand on your unstable legs. You grunted in pain as you put one foot in front of the other. Your focus was on the dead guard. His heart was no longer beating, but blood still filled his veins. It was calling to you, it had been too long since you had fed.

Your fangs snack into the man’s neck viciously. You had no remorse for the corpse as his body began to lose color as you drank. He wasn’t a large man, which was unfortunate, but he sufficed for the moment.

Harsh breaths and clearing of your throat, were indicators of how much you needed that. You wiped the blood off of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Your wounds were slowly closing, but it was taking all of the energy you had just gained.

“I can heal you faster,” Rio said tentatively grabbing your forearm.

She extended it so that it’s flat, before quickly running her tongue over the spot. You looked at her as if she was crazy, but then back at your wrist. The hole from the stake was gone, in its place was only a scar.

If you had a pulse, you were sure that it would be beating wildly.

You glanced at Agatha, who watched on, “Do you do that too?”

She shook her head, “Earth witch specialty.”

“How long did they have you like that?” Rio’s eyes have examined your body, noticing the extensive damage. Her finger trailed one of the nastier slashes across your stomach.

“I don't recall,” you spoke honestly.

Rio was careful as she healed the larger wounds on your body, you told her not to worry about the less significant ones. Even when she was done you were still caked in dirt and mostly your own blood.

“Let me help you out doll,” Agatha waved her fingers swiftly, and soon you were clean as a whistle.

Your tattered clothes replaced as if they were new, dirt and blood alike removed from your body. Ugly scars, now covered except for the few that littered your face.

“Why help me? We are only strangers, I don’t even know your names.”

“Abominations to humanity must stick together lest we want them to wipe every one of us out . You can call me Rio.”

“Agatha Harkness, pleasure to save you beautiful.”

One of your eyebrows raised, “Witch killer, Agatha Harkness?”

The woman chuckled, “I see my reputation supersedes my community. Does my aura scare you…”

“Y/n, and it does not. There are no rules when it comes to preservation of self. I’ve killed my own kind for good reasons and some not so good reasons. Bodies just seem to pile up when I’m around.”

“That why they nail you up like that?” Rio questioned.

You shrugged, “I suppose, a mixture of that and fear.”

“People fear death,” she spoke.

You shook your head as you corrected her, “Mortals fear death. I know people who are thousands of years old, who run from ailments of morality. They are foolish, death cannot be outran. Though it may take longer for her to come, she will eventually get all of us.”

“You aren’t afraid to die?” Agatha questioned you.

“No, there’s no point. She’ll come for me when it’s my time, but until then what is there to fear besides a wasted life.”

Rio had a small smile on her face, “Quite the philosophy you’ve fostered. Just one question, if you feel that way, then why kill anyone in the first place?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “If someone was meant to live, they simply would. I’m not stealing life, simply gifting death to those who have decided that it is their time.”

“How do you know that they’ve decided?” Agatha counters.

“Well you see, many people are weary of vampires and they should be. They let their guard down, they get comfortable, they play with their food instead of finishing the job. Those actions have consequences and I like to deal with those consequences personally. So I suppose when they choose to wrong me, they’ve chosen to die.”

“And the villagers who did this to you?” Rio pondered aloud.

You eyed her cautiously, “Do you stand to stop me?”

Rio shook her head, “I keep a witch killer in my company, you think I’m above a rightfully earned massacre?”

“Well you spoke of solidarity amongst-”

“Think of it this way, we can do what we want amongst each other, as it is our business. The humans have no right, to do what we do.”

You nod, “I agree.”

“So, you’re going to destroy the village?” Agatha questioned.

“My goal is to drain every last one.”

After that first encounter you were drunk on the thought alone of Agatha and Rio. Finding out Rio's true identity only made you lust for her even more. You knew that both had bonded with each other in ways you hadn’t understood, but that didn't stop your feelings from developing.

It didn't take long for them to fold you into their relationship, at least partially. They weren’t always around, but when they were everything seemed to fall back into place.

However, you’d be lying if you said you hadn't been getting restless these last few years. It was feeling like you saw less of them, especially Agatha. It felt like a game of cat and mouse. Somehow you had ended up chasing after them.

Tonight you walk the streets bored, part of you looking for trouble. Rumblings of new age vampire hunters in the area had piqued your interest. So you’d have a chance to have some fun or at minimum find your next meal.

Your fingers play with the rings they had gifted you, centuries ago. In the past you could feel both of them signaling you through the jewelry. It was a faint buzz, something like a hum, through the ring. A feeling that you hadn’t felt in ages. You longed to feel it again, to feel them.

Alleyways didn’t scare you, hardly anything scared you these days. Yet as you take a step into this alley, you sense something immediately. You feel eyes on you, as you walk.

“Has anyone ever told you to be mindful of where you settle demon?”

You continue walking, the empty threat meant nothing to you.

“I know what you are, I can smell it on you,” the voice echoes against the walls.

Your ears twitch, and soon you’re holding a frail man against one of the concrete walls in the alley.

“If you know what I am, you should be more mindful of how you approach me,” your strength speaks for itself.

You don’t give him the pleasure of seeing your fangs or glowing red eyes.

“Ah, you’re one of the older ones. This will be quite fun,” he says gleefully.

“What are you-" the question dies on your lips as you feel a needle being jabbed into your neck.

Your hand instinctively shoots over the spot, and your growl in frustration. You drop the man against the wall, turning your attention to the person who stuck you from behind with the needle.

This man was much bigger than the other. He was about twice your size, but it did not matter. You bare your fangs, hissing at the muscular man.

“Why isn’t she dropping?” He yells, fear laced through his voice.

You take the moment to pounce on him. Your teeth wasting no time, sinking into his neck. The man convulses under you, but you’re stronger than him. Even when he grabs your neck you don’t relent.

“Impossible,” the frail man, whispers from his spot against the wall.

“Nice try, but-”

The sensation hits you like a truck. You feel your vision get blurry and your muscles weaken. You blink a few times trying to will yourself against the late acting sedative.

The frail man nods excessively as you begin to lose consciousness, “Slower than usual, but captured nonetheless.”

You’re jolted back into consciousness when you feel the stake being driven into your skin. You attempt to shoot out of whatever position you are in, but it only causes you a familiar pain. Unlike the first time you were nailed to something, this time it was straight up rather than ‘X’ formation. Your arms hung up straight above your head and your feet were slightly spread underneath.

One spike was used to pierce both of your hands in place while you had one for each foot. Your breathing only quickens even more upon noticing you are in a forest. This couldn’t be happening.

“Glad you could finally join us,” the frail man from earlier want alone this time. He had a group of people with him.

“Let me go, and I’ll consider sparing you one I'm free,” you say, yet no one moves.

“You hold no power here, demon,” the man walks around you. “I am doctor Helsing, you may be familiar with my ancestors.”

Your jaw twitches, “ Van Helsing.”

He chuckles, “What a smart creature you are?”

“What do you want from me?”

His chuckle turns into a boisterous laughter, “ You can't offer me anything that I don't have the ability to take.”

You glare at the people in front of you, eyes turning a vicious shade of red, “The last group of people that tried something like this, paid for their sins with their lives. I hope you’re prepared to do the same.”

“They did quite a number on you, I can tell by your markings. Their only mistake was letting such a beautiful thing like you go,” Helsing says, his hand sliding across the scar on your abdomen.

“They didn’t let me go. I got out.”

His eyes had a glint as he leaned in, “And then you killed them all, how sad.”

He stabs you in the scar. Carving harder and deeper than the previous person. You grunt, but try to steel yourself under the knife. Yet you squirm finding the sensation to be more unpleasant than you had recalled.

“Silver cuts a little different doesn’t it?” He says watching the cut pour blood.

“You’re going to regret this.”

He turns his attention to the people, “Empty threats mean nothing when a beast is tied up. Would anyone else like a turn?”

People in his crowd begin to circle around you. Some with weapons, others cracking their knuckles. You're being attacked from all sides. The pain makes you tear up, but you avoid crying.

Instead you left out a bitter laugh, “That’s all you’ve got. Come on if you're gong to torture me at least put some passion behind it.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started. I want to hear you beg for your life, I want to see you broken, beaten, defeated. I want you to ask for death and then I'll award it to you.”

You spit at Helsing, “I’m not scared of death.”

He wipes your spit off of his face, a scowl now present, “For centuries my family has been driving your species to extinction. The failures may eclipse the successes, but don't think that we were never successful. You will fall at the hands of Van Helsing, creature.”

He has a device in his hand, he shoves it into your mouth. It forces your mouth open and your fangs out. He stares at them in awe. You try to clamp your mouth shut or retract your fangs, but you are unable to. You start to panic.

“Just like a snake, de-fang the vampire and a lot of that fear is gone,” his smile is sadistic.

You feel your adrenaline sky rocket as you shake violently. Your eyes wide in terror. The wood stake ripping your skin, but the pain was nothing akin to the fright.

You don’t remember the last time you were truly this scared.

He laughs and some of the crowd laugh along with him, “Are you afraid now, demon?”

Tears fall from your eyes and he coos. You flinch at his hand touching your face. His fingers were rough and callused against the swollen skin. You move your head as if to attack him and he stumbles back.

He grabs your jaw roughly, “This is the power of man.”

“Looks like someone is having a party and forgot to invite us.”

You know that voice. It makes you close your eyes in relief. The panic you felt in the moment begins to dissipate.

Everyone looks to the sky following the sound of the voice. It’s there that they see Agatha and Rio floating in the sky. Most of the crowd has their mouths agape, not believing what they are seeing.

“Should we offer them mercy, Agatha? Maybe our invites got lost in the mail?”

“This matter does not concern you foul wenches, be gone,” Helsing says, his voice trembles a bit at the end.

It’s Agatha that cackles looking down at the man, “See that’s where your wrong because…”

Rio appears behind the man, her skeletal form on her face, “If it concerns her, then it concerns us.”

Her dagger lays on his neck and he looses his composure.

“Anyone want to be brave?” Agatha questions the crowd, who screams when she shoots her magic at a nearby tree exploding it.

“What happened? A second ago you were lining up to torture her, but now you’re scared,” Rio adds pressure to her dagger.

“Don’t get shy now, doctor. Nothing to say?” Agatha gets closer to him.

The group tries to scatter but she traps them in a circle full of fire. They’re forced to gather close to each other. Their screams make you smile.

Agatha pulls the device out of your mouth carefully. Her hand caresses your face gently. You lean into her touch.

“We have to stop meeting like this doll,” Agatha mumbles only for you to hear.

“We wouldn’t have to meet again if you stopped leaving,” you shoot back.

Agatha casts her gaze away from you and over to Helsing. She and Rio switch places. The Green Witch, uses her vines to pull the spikes out of your body. It’s a feeling that never gets easier to experience.

You land on your feet ignoring the burning sensation. With your back tall you walk over to Helsing. You crouch in front of him, despite your own agony.

You hold his eyes, “Funny, I recall you telling me I’d beg for death. Well now she’s here for me, just not in the way you expected is it?”

Rio wiggles her fingers at the doctor, “I loved dragging the souls of your family to eternal damnation, can’t wait to reunite you with them.”

“Humans are all the same, always playing with food that’s not yours,” you stand towering over the man.

“Hey I like to play with my food,” Agatha pouts.

You smile, “When you have power you can do what you want.”

You open your hand and Rio drops her dagger into your grasp. The crowd watches in panic behind the flames as you approach the man.

“However, I’ve never been one to play with my food,” in a swift motion you slit his throat.

The gasps and screams of his followers sounds like music to your ears. He gargles his own blood reaching for his neck.

“Your blood isn’t worth drinking,” you watch as he collapses. You turn to address the crowd, “None of you have worthy blood. Cowards, followers, miscreants, I hope it was worth it. The price is your life, now burn.”

Agatha waves her hand dismissively and the crowd of people are quickly evaporated. Ash and burnt grass the only remnants of the aggressors.

Upon their destruction you crumble to the floor. Your body screaming at you for the abuse you endured.

Rio starts with the wound on your stomach before healing the spiked points. Your body still aches when she’s finished, but it’s substantially less than before.

“Déjà vu isn’t it bunny?” Agatha opens the floor for conversation.

“Now isn’t the time Agatha,” Rio scolds the woman, who raises her hands in defense.

“I was just reminiscing, is that a crime?”

You stand, “Well, good seeing you. Same time… in the next few centuries or…”

“You’re hurt,” Rio argues.

“You healed me enough,” you shrug.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “What’s with the attitude princess?”

You place a hand on your hip, “When was the last time we saw each other, Agatha? Rio, you only come when I leave bodies in my wake. So sorry if I’m not thrilled it takes me being captured and tortured to get some time together.”

“It’s always been this way,” Agatha argues back.

Your voice takes on an uncharacteristically soft tone, “I know and I’m tired. I don’t want whatever this is. I need something more, something tangible. It’s fine if you don't want to give that to me, but I can't keep waiting.”

You try to keep calm as you pull the rings off of your fingers, hand out stretched to give them back to their original owners.

“Y/n…”

“Take them… please. Free me, from whatever this is. I’m grateful that you saved me on our first day and maybe the same thing happening again is fate telling me that this is our last day,” you get the courage to look at them with teary eyes.

“You don't even believe in fate,” Agatha tries to reason with you.

“How would you know, you haven't been around. Things change, people change,” you tell her.

Agatha looks to Rio for help, but The Green Witch, just keeps her eyes on you.

“That’s bullshit! If change is so real, how’d we end up right back where we started hmm? Poor little hung up bat, in need of saving and here we are like always,” Agatha’s theatrics peak through her words.

“Like always?” You repeat, in disbelief.

“Look sweetheart, I know that-"

You ball your fists at your side, “What could you possibly know Agatha? Tell me, I’m interested in hearing. Did you know I spend all my time waiting for either of you to tell me if you want me or not? I don’t sleep, I just think and think and think about finding a way to end it all without having to see either of you. Hard to kill yourself with Death keeping tabs on you, even without a heartbeat. I knew this guy was tracking me, I knew what he wanted to do, and I said fuck it. I don’t care, what’s there to live for anyway?”

“You can't be serious?” Rio doesn’t want to believe what you’re saying.

“Of course I’m serious, part of me thought that after all these years humans would be over torture, but that was foolish of me. Why would I think that you'd come to save me? I still don’t understand why you did.”

“Because we love you, you fucking idiot!” Agatha shouts at you.

You scoff, “Do you really? I couldn’t tell by the hundreds of years apart.”

“We were protecting you,” Agatha gets in your space.

“What could have possibly been protecting me? Oh no, a loving and caring environment? How ever could I have managed such domestic delights and pleasures,” your voice drips sarcasm.

“You do realize that Rio is Death, right? Her job is literally to reap souls, you aren’t the only one that doesn’t get to see her often. And me… I’m all trouble, doll. There’s not a pleasant bone in my body.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, “Did you forget who I am? Have you had a head trauma recently, or maybe you need a refresher? I’m not the greatest either, cupcake. I just slit a man’s throat and had his followers executed.”

“By me,” Agatha points out.

“Ok and you want credit for the villages I killed too? The vampires I murdered? The people I lied to? The whores I fucked? I’m not some sweet innocent thing you picked up off of the side of the road. My ledger has had blood on it since before you killed your original coven.”

Your eyes are red as they stare into her blue ones.

“We were scared,” Rio interrupts the rising tensions between you and Agatha.

“Scared of what?” You glance at her.

“Of committing to you. Hell, Agatha and I can’t even fully commit to each other. This game of cat and mouse, it’s all we know. You’re right, you deserve more, so much more, but we don’t know how to give it. We don’t know what a domestic life looks like, we aren’t domestic people. I didn't think there would be any doubt in your head that we loved you, and maybe that just shows how fucked up we really are,” Rio monologues.

Her words hit you harshly. They make you want to start crying all over again. You cast your gaze to the floor.

“I guess that brings us back to the original point then, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s better if we just, end it here,” you can’t look at them.

“If that’s what you want?” Rio nods solemnly.

Agatha looks between the two of you, “Are you two stupid or something? You have to be if you think I’m just going to agree to this.”

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. I love you, both of you. I don’t want this to end and if that means changing the way things operate, then I guess things just have to change,” Agatha speaks seriously.

“What are yo-”

You startle when Agatha grabs your hands in both of hers. Her eyes locking fiercely onto yours. She doesn’t blink as she speaks, “Move in with me.”

“What?”

“You want time together, we can have time together. We’ve basically been together for centuries, come live with me.”

“Agatha, I think you've lost the plot,” Rio says, cautiously.

“You too Dr. Green Thumb. Let’s all move in together,” Agatha nods her head.

“That doesn’t fix everything,” you focus on her hands over yours.

She doesn’t hesitate to raise her hands to cup your face, “There’s obviously a lot to fix, but you can’t tell me this isn’t a step in the right direction. Y/n, I don’t want to- I can’t lose you. I’m not willing to let you go without a fight.”

Your face heats in her hands. Her eyes are ablaze with passion as they keep contact with yours.

You sigh and rest your forehead against hers, “I don’t know Agatha.”

Rio joins the moment, carefully wrapping her arms around your torso, “I don’t think any of us really know, but I think we’re supposed to find out together.”

“Please,” Agatha’s breath hits your lips. “Just a chance to make up for lost time. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t, but please don’t give up on us yet.”

Hearing Agatha beg like this tugs at your heart. You don’t want to give in this easily, but you’ve already wasted so much time.

“Ok.”

As the word falls from your lips, Agatha surges forward. You can recall the last time her lips were on yours. The warmth that they were able to send through your body. How firm she was in her kiss, not scared or uncertain as your lips moved together. She knew what she wanted and it was hard to picture a world in which she’d kiss someone she wasn’t interested in the way she was kissing you. You were the one she wanted.

Your legs grow weak, but Rio holds you steady. Her shifting grip, makes you turn to face her. Unlike Agatha she hesitates. She takes a moment to admire your features, she wasn’t in a rush. Neither were you. Rio’s kiss is softer than Agatha’s, her plush lips, move experimentally against yours. It’s not like she’s forgotten, more like she’s re-exploring. She's playful, as her teeth nibble on your bottom lip. You laugh at the sensation.

Rio rests her head on your shoulder. She extends her hands, motioning for the other witch to get closer. Agatha wraps her arms around the both of you. Her front to your back while her hands rest on Rio’s back. You’re encased by them, a feeling that is welcomed yet foreign to you.

“Promise that you'll keep me close” you say to both of them.

“Until the road ends, my love,” Agatha kisses the top of your head.

“I’ll hold you even after the road ends,” Rio kisses the base of your neck.

“Do you always have to one up me?” Agatha says to Rio.

Rio chuckles, “Sounds like a skill issue sweetheart.”

“Oh, we’ll see who has a skill issue later, when you’re begging me for help because my fingers are longer than yours,” Agatha says smugly.

Rio pulls back from you to glare at Agatha, “If you don’t want to ‘help’ me, I’ll just ask Y/n. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You blush at the innuendo.

“Nuh uh, bunny. I think I recall you liking my treats better, because someone has a skill issue,” Agatha sticks her tongue at Rio.

You turn an even deeper shade of red.

“You can never let an emotional moment be,” Rio says.

“Well you’re always trying to out ‘emotional’ me,” Agatha replies.

“It’s not my fault you’re not as smooth as me, mi vida,” Rio counters again.

Agatha throws her hands up, “I know Spanish and Latin too, you’re not special Vidal.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, “And who taught you?”

The back and forth makes you laugh, “Are you sure you don’t do domestic, because you bicker like an old married couple?”

They both huff at your statement.

“We’ll continue this at home,” Agatha points at Rio.

The brown eyed woman puts her hand over her heart in faux-fear, “Oooo, I’m terrified.”

Agatha opens a portal to her house and both women step through. Not stopping their bickering for a second. You smile as you watch them, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“The portal isn’t going to stay open forever, bunny, come on,” Agatha reaches her hand to pull you through.

You take it, stepping into your new beginning.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 2 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, adult themes (not smut lol) (yet) (jk) (unless...), the mission finally starts, so much plot from here on out y'all so buckle up

a/n. i didn't get to include the most important bits that were supposed to be presented in this chapter because i got carried away with the buildup lol. exciting times ahead y'all. i have so much in store for you with this series. don't be a stranger and let's talk!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

You can only stare back at the woman peering at you, her face painted with a thick layer of makeup, her hair styled to staged ‘effortless’ perfection, and her body wrapped in an outfit that’s equal parts provocative and refined.

Her image is so flawlessly curated—so much so that you barely notice the apprehension that’s hidden amidst her features, if it weren’t for the fact that that woman is you.

You can barely recognize yourself—and perhaps that’s the point of all this.

Asahi and Moriyama didn’t have to explicitly state it yesterday—they need you to put in every ounce of effort to make sure that you succeed, and that includes doing everything you can to supplement your quirk all the while keeping your real identity lowkey.

Even if it means looking like this.

You’re about to give in to your second thoughts and change out of the black, low-cut tank and beige cardigan you have on when an array of knocks echo from what you think is your front door, and you freeze.

With a cautious glance at your bedroom’s wall clock, you think you’re supposed to feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that it’s 9:00 PM on the dot, the exact time Bakugou said he’d pick you up, which means no villain or mal intentioned person is at your front porch, but that doesn’t come.

Instead, the sense of dread that’s been stirring in your gut ever since you got swept by Asahi’s men yesterday only magnifies, leaving you a bit cold and…are you shaking?

You don’t get to dwell on that, though, because another round of rapping resonates from your foyer again, which somehow pulls you out of your nervous stupor. You hurriedly run to the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole, opening it with a turn of the knob to see Bakugou.

Wearing a white face mask and decked in a fitting black hoodie, with his ash-blonde hair peeking through the sides of a dark baseball cap.

His fist is frozen mid-air as he stares at you, eyes slightly widened in shock, as if he didn’t believe you’re capable of this thing called punctuality. He promptly brings it down, though, schooling his expression into a neutral one, but not before giving you a quick once-over.

“Hey,” he offers, voice gruff and way lower than you remembered it back in high school.

“Hello,” you counter, looking back at your messy apartment out of habit. “I’m almost done. I just need to grab my purse.”

And, because you genuinely need to know for the sake of what you’re about to do, you ask: “Do I look okay?”

He must’ve not been anticipating that question, because his eyebrows furrow ever so minutely like you just caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he eventually replies after studying the entire length of your body once again.

And, you may have just imagined it, but you swear to god his eyes linger on your chest for a beat longer than necessary before he meets your gaze.

“You clean up…” he pauses, like he’s grasping for the right adjective, before settling with: “…decent.”

At that, you feel yourself deflate a bit. Maybe you wanted a more affirming answer, definitely not because you want that from him, but because you need to look good. However, if there’s anything the rumor mill told you back when you were still teenage students, it’s that Bakugou Katsuki was a man of few words when he was serious, let alone appreciative, so you take his comment in stride.

Besides, in comparison to how you looked yesterday, anything is an improvement, really.

“Thanks,” you respond, and you debate for a second whether or not to say the next thing but ultimately decide on it. “…And you look mildly disguised.”

That seems to ruffle Bakugou’s feathers. “Mildly?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling unsure about your honesty. “I get the hoodie and the cap and the face mask, but there’s no hiding your hulking frame, man.”

And really, there isn’t. How are you supposed to conceal a torso as large as that?

You gesture to his chest and shoulder area for further emphasis. “I don’t think you can pass up as a regular citizen but like as a non-descript athlete, maybe?”

To your dismay, Bakugou merely grunts before shaking his head. “This’ll work.”

Apparently already over your suggestion, he glances past your shoulder as he shifts his weight on his other foot. “Can you grab your purse now? We’ve to get going.”

Now, you’ve got half a mind to argue and try to convince him that maybe going for a better disguise is better in the long run but you’re silenced by his domineering gaze. So instead, you nod before rushing back to your bedroom and grabbing the bag you already prepared beforehand, as well as your phone that’s charging on top of your bedside table.

Although it won’t be of much use later, or in the coming few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.

“Ready?” he asks when you return to the doorway with your things in tow.

“Yup,” you retort as you lock the door behind you, and just like that, you’re well on your way to a potential death sentence.

You’re in the elevator going down to the ground floor by the time he speaks up again. “We’re commuting,” he starts, not looking at you but instead scrutinizing the barely hanging on floor buttons. “Can’t risk raising suspicion by driving there.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” you ask just as the elevator dings, signifying your arrival.

The doors burst open, and he steps out. “You’ll see.”

The commute to wherever the hell it is you two are going is quiet.

Bakugou didn’t divulge any further details as you stepped out of your building, wordlessly ordering you with a stern look to just follow. Frankly, you don’t like how you’re being kept in the dark, but you don’t contend. You’re acutely aware that you have a limited number of cards to play with Bakugou, and you have to play them right, if you want to even survive this mission without your partnership falling apart and jeopardizing the entire thing. Wasting a card on stupid information would be downright foolish on your end.

Even the walk to the bus stop is silent, and so is the entire ride. Despite it being quite late into the evening, the vehicle is still somewhat crowded, which you chalk up to it being a Friday night. You find yourself relaxing in your seat as the realization dawns on you—perhaps there was no point in getting too riled up about getting noticed.

And besides, you’re taking extra precautions, too. You’re not sitting next to each other, because he’s trying to stave off attention while you’re straining to catch it. Maybe not of these strangers, but of the people you’re going to meet later on.

Roughly 10 minutes and a short subway ride later, you climb up the underground stairs to a stop you vaguely remember hearing from your coworkers about. You recall how she described an old party district right in the middle of Musutafu, and sure enough, the text on the street signs match the name she recounted during one of your lunch breaks.

“Over here,” Bakugou calls out from a few feet ahead of you. You quickly quit your observing and follow suit, mindful of keeping an appropriate, not at all questionable distance between the two of you.

After what felt like walking five blocks from the subway, you see Bakugou halt and make a left into a poorly lit alleyway. You hesitate for a second, having been on autopilot and going straight for the last how many minutes. You’re able to swiftly gather yourself, though, steering in the same direction.

The moment that you do, it instantly registers to you that you’re not just in the party district anymore. If the dingy signages and the palpable seediness of the alley are any indication, you’re most likely in the red-light district now.

Suddenly, everything feels a bit too real, and you barely catch yourself stumbling back on your feet. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who instinctively moves to reach out for you from where he’s standing. He pauses, though, when you’re able to regain your bearings with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” you offer meekly.

He eyes you with the very same inexplicable expression from before. “You good?”

You’re not about to tell him you’re scared shitless, so you give him a half-hearted nod. Turning to study the exterior of the small building, you take in the lightly peeling paint and the booming music emanating from it. “This the place?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat. “Are you sure you’re good?”

You whip to look back at Bakugou, who, if you didn’t know any better, is now looking apprehensive.

You decide then and there that you have to get your shit together.

Bravery is contagious, but so is fear.

For a second, you contemplate using your quirk on yourself to calm your nerves down, but eventually decide against it. There are much bigger fish to fry tonight, and what’s the point of learning all those damned breathing and grounding techniques if you’re not going to use them?

“I’m ready,” you finally tell him after a moment of both of you standing there. “Let’s go in before we start looking unusual out here.”

If Bakugou notices the unease you’re sure you’re radiating, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, before turning to open the door.

And when he does, you’re almost instantaneously flooded by the music that was just escaping through the cracks and crevices of the run-down building. You fight the instinct to cover your ears as you step into the large room behind Bakugou, eyes quickly darting all over the place to drink in the scene before you.

Right in the back of the space is a stage that extends in the center as a runway to the middle of the room. The orange and pink mood lights illuminating the area are relatively dim minus the bulbs lining the set and walkway. And, beneath the elevated platform are what have to be pleather seats littered all over the floor—all of which are occupied by decidedly rambunctious men.

You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose as their boisterous laughter fills your ears, opting to face Bakugou instead.

“Hey,” you call out to him, who stops in his tracks to look at you. You sneak a glance at the people at the bar nearest the two of you, just to make sure they’re not listening in, before you continue. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You don’t have to peek beneath his mask to know he’s now scowling at you.

“What am I, a dumbass? I told you, this is it.” He then shifts away from you, far enough that you barely hear his next words. “…It has to be.”

Well.

That’s not exactly comforting.

Your discomfort only heightens when the already faint lights dim further, and the music switches from a pop song to which you know a bit of the lyrics to a rap that, if you were to base it on the first phrase, is all about having explicit, unprotected sex. The crowd of men cheers in anticipation, and as if on cue, a woman dressed in nothing but a two-piece lingerie emerges from the back of the stage, confirming your speculation of what the place is.

A strip club.

You watch as the woman confidently struts towards the center, and apparently, you’re no better than any of the men here because your gaze slowly roves over her slim and toned body, eyes catching at her cleavage that’s leaving nothing to the imagination. You can’t help it—you look down at your own chest, sinking in disappointment at the contrast before promptly looking up in embarrassment, only to find Bakugou studying you closely.

“It’s a strip club,” you blurt out, flustered at getting caught in the act. His eyes only narrow in a way that tells you what you’re already telling yourself: Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, much to your relief, only moving to the far corner of the room where there are miraculously two seats unoccupied. You follow him with no further questions asked, plopping in the chair to his right, thankful you’re wearing black trousers so that your skin doesn’t have to go into contact with the sticky furniture.

You take the opportunity to clock the rest of the room, cataloguing the bar at the other end of the area near the entrance where a barista is swiftly taking and making orders all at the same time, while the men seated on the stools struggle to decide whether to look at the man or at the stripper now performing an elaborate dance around the pole. Amidst the decorated wall adjacent to the bar is a door with a restroom sign on it, and you squint just enough to see it’s only one stall for everyone. You make a mental note to hold in your pee, at least until you get out of here.

And, because you’re feeling nice, you shift to regard Bakugou with a good-natured smile on your face. “I hope you peed right before leaving your house.”

“What?” he says loud enough for you to hear him over the noise they’re calling music. “I can’t hear you.”

“Shit, right.” You lean in ever so minutely, and Bakugou mirrors you. You try to ignore the new-found proximity. “I said,” you repeat, with a little more volume this time, “I hope you peed right before fetching me. I bet the toilet’s filthy as shit.”

To your delight, not that you’d admit that to him in this lifetime, Bakugou smirks at your little quip after confirming the lone comfort room with his own eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he starts, and you stiffen at the nickname, “I’m not the one who has to sit on one.”

You’re about to retort with something along the lines of what if he has to poop out of the blue, or at least try to, because the pet name has you gagged against your better judgment, when a ridiculously tall man clad in all black appears out of nowhere, startling you.

“The f—”

“Dynamight,” the behemoth of a guy cuts you off, eyes trained on the pro-hero beside you and completely ignoring your presence. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Took you long enough to approach me,” Bakugou sneers, oozing with the confidence you can’t find within yourself right now. “I hate sleazy places like this.”

To that, the man only bows his head slightly, face solemn but devoid of remorse. You watch him as his eyes finally drift to you, albeit for only a split second, before looking back at Bakugou. “Follow me, sir.”

The ash blonde does so, perhaps a tiny bit begrudgingly, and you speedily get up along with him. The two men turn to move, and you’re about to take a step closer towards their direction when a long arm shoots up in front of you, keeping you in place.

Any protests die in your throat when you look up and see the guy’s menacing glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he grits through his teeth, “Only Dynamight is needed.”

“She’s with me,” comes Bakugou’s commanding tone. You chance a glance at the pro-hero, whose countenance is so serious you’d be afraid if you were the one he’s talking to.

“But, sir—”

“It’s the two of us or we’re leaving,” Bakugou demands.

The two engage in a stare down which you witness for what feels like a few minutes before the man finally looks away, frustration etched across his intimidating features. He glares at you once more, as if you’re the one who’s insisting on being Bakugou’s plus one, and you’re about to be convinced that he’s mentally chanting a spell to make you disappear when he gestures for you to follow him with a flick of a head.

You gradually release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shadow them as they enter one of the doors on the wall perpendicular to where you were just stationed. It leads to a staircase that swerves in the middle, and you lock eyes with Bakugou as he makes the turn ahead of you. Neither of you says a word, opting to keep on trailing the man, even as you land on the second floor, which looks more and more like a prostitution den.

Once again, your conjecture is confirmed as you walk down the hallway and past several sets of doors on both sides, from which emanate a cacophony of sensual moans and groans. You wonder what Bakugou’s thinking right now, although you can’t get a read on him as you can only observe his backside.

Finally, after what seems like a tortuous eternity, the man stops right in front of the door at the end of the hallway, and you pause right behind him.

He looks back at Bakugou and you with what you’re pretty sure is caution, before knocking on the door twice, and then another two times but in rapid succession.

“Come in,” is what the muffled voice on the other side says.

And so you do.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, because you’ve never actually been in a service room before, but you at least anticipated a bed on which certain…activities can be done.

But what you’re met with instead seems to be a refurbished lounge room with floor-to-ceiling brick walls, black and red quilted couches, and a bar at the far side all lit up with moody orange lighting.

And smack dab in the middle of it—sprawled so languidly all over the furniture—are three individuals.

Three individuals who immediately look at Bakugou.

It’s them, alright. You don’t need your extensive training in reading people to know that these are the ones you came all the way here for.

You quickly take note of their appearances. The seemingly old man who has to be in his late 50s is seated—quite relaxed—in one of the scarlet solo chairs. He’s slim, bordering on frail, but the glint in his eye as he peers at Bakugou tells you that it’d be unwise to rule him out as one of your main threats.

Juxtaposing his age which is further revealed by his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair is the young woman plastered on the couch adjacent to his.

Or maybe ‘woman’ is a bit too generous…

It’s not obvious at first glance, but you immediately notice how some of her body parts appear to be outright robotic in the literal sense. Perhaps it’s her long, pin-straight, jet-black hair that softens her entire look, but there’s no mistaking what seems to be an artificial left eye, a metallic right arm, and angled, silver lips. She’s wearing long pants so there’s no telling which other parts of her are made up of what you think is steel, but the ones visible to you already tell you enough.

And then there’s the third and last man, who, in comparison to the other two, is remarkably…plain.

There isn’t an air of age-induced wisdom around him, nor is there anything peculiar about his body. He looks like just about any other 40-year-old-ish Japanese man you know, with short black hair, an unassuming face, and semi-formal clothes that are quite loose on his not-buff but not exactly thin body either.

But to your surprise, it’s him that the hilariously huge guy from earlier directly reports to.

“Pro-hero Dynamight, sir, as you requested. And…” the ‘escort’ trails off, and for a split second, you feel kind of sorry you’re here and making things complicated for him. “…he brought company.”

“Finally,” the plain-looking man pipes up from his seat, and even his voice is generic. “And here we thought you were never going to come meet us.”

Placing what suspiciously looks like a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, the man shifts to fully regard Bakugou. “I see that you’ve deciphered the messages we’ve been sending you?”

“No shit,” comes Bakugou’s blunt response, and for a beat, you seriously consider using your quirk on him to make him calm the fuck down.

You decide against it.

To your chagrin, he drones on. “Y’all gotta do better. That was barely even a code.”

At that, the old male barks out a laugh while the plain-looking man only chuckles. “Of course, we expect nothing less from the #2 pro-hero. But…” the latter trails off, eyes finally landing on you. You quickly put on the most endearing smile you can muster, suddenly regretting not touching up your makeup upon sitting earlier. Thankfully, though, he smiles back, before redirecting his focus back on Bakugou.

“I see you brought precious cargo. Is there any reason why she’s here with us?”

“We want in your organization,” Bakugou replies without hesitation. “The both of us.”

And when none of them say anything in response, Bakugou presses.

“You need me, right? I heard you’re planning an attack. I want to join.”

“Yes,” the old man finally speaks up, not even denying it yet his voice is riddled with misplaced humor. “We do, in fact, need you. But what use do we have of this girl?”

“She’s got a useful quirk,” Bakugou supplies, before turning to look at you and then back at them. “Luck. She boosts the success rate of anyone she works with.”

“Luck?” the old geezer says back so incredulously, you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. If he only knew what you were fully capable of. He can’t, though, if you want to get out of this entire situation alive. “I don’t think we’ll need that as long as we have you, boy.”

“Well, tough luck,” spews Bakugou, a little bit too sarcastically for your comfort. “Because, as I’ve told your little lackey here,” he gestures to the definitely not little guy from earlier, “It’s both of us or I’m out.”

“The both of you, huh?” muses the plain-looking man who’s seeming to be more and more like the leader of the group by the second.

Once again, silence envelopes the room when none of them utter a single word, with you and Bakugou watching in anxious (you) and impatient (him) anticipation. You observe their facial expressions as they have a wordless exchange, and judging by how the ancient and the robotic girl are looking at the ordinary man, you guess your hunch about him is right.

Eventually, they appear to reach an agreement, and the leader adjusts just enough to look at the both of you directly.

You brace yourself with bated breath.

He flashes you a modest smile.

“It’s a deal, then.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[clairoscharm]

staying through the storm

pairing : jinx x fem!reader

warnings : ass angst, uhh killing idk man, overthinking, kissing, sad ig, angst w comfort dw! takes on arcane s1

credits : @cafekitsune @vesearartistry

dayana's talk : this is originally for my "the best time to kiss a girl" wip but i asked my friend whether to post it as its own fic/drabble/blurbs wtv u called this or just keep it in wip. also, this is my second time writing for someone who is not ellie williams lol.

DAILY CLICK

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

EDUCATE YOURSELF

It was the moment Powder—or in this case, Jinx fired her massive gun, Pow Pow, and the shot hit Silco. In that split second, it was clear there was still a fragment of Powder within her—the little girl who loved and looked up to her sister, Vi. But seeing Silco point the gun at Vi had set her off, her emotions overwhelming reason.

It wasn't her fault—no, never.

She only wanted to protect her sister, that's all.

Jinx had convinced herself that Silco was planning to hand her over to Piltover. And now, as the realization hit her, regret coursed through her like a tidal wave. Her gun clattered to the ground as she rushed to him, tears streaming down her face.

You were there, trying to stop her but it's no use now, it's too late.

The damage was done.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, over and over, like a mantra, her voice trembling with anguish.

Her hands cupped Silco’s face, and despite his pain, his gaze softened. "I never would have given you to them," he murmured, his voice rasping but steady, his eyes locked onto hers. "Not for anything."

Her tears brimmed and spilled over as his words struck her heart.

"Don’t cry," Silco said with his last breath, his voice barely audible. "You’re perfect."

The life left his body, and Jinx’s sobs wracked her as the weight of her actions crashed down on her. That was the last thing Silco said to her. He was using his last breath to tell her that.

She sobbed uncontrollably before forcing herself to gather what little composure she had left.

Wiping her tears, Jinx moved to Vi, her hands shaking as she untied her restraints. Once free, she stepped back, her face a mixture of devastation and defiance, silently letting Vi go.

You stood frozen, speechless, as the scene unfolded before you. Jinx was on her knees once again, her screams piercing the air, filled with anger, sadness, guilt, and regret.

It had happened again. For the second time, Jinx had accidentally taken the life of someone she cared about—all in her desperate attempt to protect Vi.

The sight of her trembling, broken figure made your heart sink deeper than ever.

Slowly, you approached her, each step cautious, as if afraid to shatter her further. Gently, you placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent gesture to let her know you were there.

But Jinx shoved you away—too hard.

You stumbled back, hitting the ground with a thud, looking up at her in shock, confusion etched across your face.

"Powder... it's okay. I'm here for you," you said softly, rising to your feet, your hand reaching out toward her.

"STOP! It's Jinx, now" she screamed, her voice raw and trembling.

"Don’t come any closer," she warned, her eyes wild and desperate.

But despite her plea, you took a step forward. You’ve always been stubborn—perhaps too stubborn for your own good.

"Please, Jinx... listen to me" you pleaded to her, walking closer to her each step.

Her eyes softened when she saw you keep on walking, she should’ve known better—you were never one to back away. Sniffling, she wiped at her tears, trying to hide the vulnerability she despised showing, not wanting you to see her as a weak person.

And when you finally reached her, standing just inches away, she instantly let her guard down. Without any warning, she threw her arms around you, clinging to you as if letting go would cause you to disappear into the cold night air.

The intensity of her embrace caught you off guard, but you didn’t hesitate to hold her back just as tightly.

You can hear her crying on your shoulder, hell you can feel her wet tears dropping to your warm skin. "Shhh, it’s okay, Jinx," you murmured, gently rubbing her back in a desperate attempt to comfort her.

"I-I… I k-killed him," she stuttered, choking on her sobs.

"I didn’t mean to," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she nuzzled into the crook of your neck, seeking solace she wasn’t sure she deserved.

"I know," you assured her softly. And you did—you knew she hadn’t meant it.

Silco had been her anchor, the one person who stood by her when everything else crumbled.

But now, he was gone. And you? You were all she had left.

That thought weighed heavily on Jinx. A part of her knew keeping your distance might be the safest choice.

She is, after all, a jinx—a force of chaos, heartbreak, and tragedy.

"You should go," Jinx suddenly stated, her voice cold and devoid of emotion, as if she’d flipped a switch.

Her words hit you like a blow, but you didn’t move. Not yet.

"W-what? No! I’m staying, whether you like it or not. I’m not going anywhere."

You paused, your voice softening as you added, "At least not without you."

"Do you not hear me? I told you to leave!" Jinx’s voice was sharp, almost a scream, laced with frustration and desperation.

She took a three-step back from you. Her eyes burned with a mixture of anger and hurt, but her trembling hands betrayed the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide.

Her voice cracked as she continued, "Look at me! I’m a jinx! I ruin everything—I always do."

Her final words came out as a broken whisper, barely audible.

"Jinx, you don’t have to push me away," you said softly, stepping closer. "I’m not leaving you—not now, not ever. You’re not a monster, no matter what you think of yourself."

Her eyes flickered with doubt, her body tense, like she was waiting for the next hurt to come. "You say that now," she murmured, her voice shaky. "But how do you know I’m not a monster?"

The words hit harder than you expected, but you didn’t look away. You stepped closer, your voice unwavering.

"Because I know you, Jinx. You’re not what you think you are. You’ve been through so much, and you still care—about people, about me."

She looked away, her hands trembling as she clutched her arms. "You don’t get it... I’m dangerous. I hurt everyone."

You responded, your tone gentle but firm, "You’re trying to protect the people you love. That’s not something to hate yourself for."

You stepped even closer, carefully tilting her chin up so her eyes met yours. Her breath hitched, her gaze dropping as if she were weighing your words.

"I’m not leaving," you whispered softly. "And you’re not a monster. I’ll stay, no matter what."

Her eyes searched yours, full of uncertainty, but something in the air between you shifted. Then, as if testing your words, she closed the gap between you, her lips crashing onto yours.

It wasn’t gentle—it was fierce, desperate, as though she needed to feel that you weren’t going anywhere. Her hands gripped your shirt, pulling you closer.

The kiss caught you off guard, but you kissed her back, softly at first, then deeper, allowing all the unspoken fears and pain to melt away.

Slowly, the tension in her body eased, and her grip loosened, the uncertainty giving way to something quieter, something more trusting.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead resting gently against yours, her eyes closed as if she were afraid to open them.

You reached up gently, your thumb brushing against her cheek as you wiped away the tears streaming down her face. Her skin was warm beneath your touch, but her eyes were distant, flickering with emotions she couldn’t quite put into words.

"Hey," you whispered softly, your hand lingering for a moment, "it’s okay."

And when her gaze met yours, for the first time in what felt like forever, she seemed at peace. The uncertainty in her eyes was gone, replaced by something softer—something quietly hopeful.

In that moment, the chaos around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you.

"I’m here," you whispered softly, brushing a lock of her blue hair from her face. "And I’m not going anywhere."

© clairoscharm twentytwentyfour

the original :

[cherriicou]

gyuhao x tan!reader

In which gyuhao help reader to feel confident with their skin colour (kinda like how the8 helped mingyu)

Can be any genre^^

BEACH DAY

content | insecurities about tan skin, fluff, slight teasing at end of fic, kinda crack lol

word count | 747

a/n l i couldn't choose between silly or hot reassurance 😭 stuck with silly but added a bit of tease towards the end :p

The sun was blazing, the cicadas were screeching, and you were doing everything in your power to not exist in this moment.

God, why did they have to drag you with them to film a Going Seventeen episode at the beach?

You tugged at the hem of your zip up hoodie—yes, a hoodie in this weather—desperately trying to shield yourself from the sun's rays.

It was ironic, really. Everyone else on the beach was running around, flaunting their swimsuits, but here you were, wrapped up like it was mid-December.

“Y/N,” Mingyu’s voice boomed, loud enough to startle a flock of nearby seagulls.

“Are you really wearing that? It’s like you’re asking for a heat stroke!”

“I’m fine!” you called back, already regretting agreeing to this beach trip.

Minghao, ever the sharp-eyed observer, walked over to you with his calm demeanor.

He squatted in front of where you were awkwardly perched on a picnic blanket.

“You’re sweating. Why are you torturing yourself?” His eyes scanning your body.

“Because I don’t want to get darker than I already am,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the sand.

There was a brief silence, and you risked a glance at Minghao’s face. His eyebrows were raised, lips pressed into a thin line.

Before he could say anything, Mingyu dropped down beside you, dramatically fanning himself with one hand while sipping a soda with the other.

“Do you think we’re vampires or something? Like, we’ll burst into flames if we stay in the sun too long?” Mingyu asked, his voice teasing but not unkind.

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get it.”

Mingyu gasped, clutching his chest like you’d just insulted his entire lineage.

“I don’t get it? Y/N, do you know how insecure I’ve been with my tan skin? Do you know how many people compared me to a literal potato?!”

Minghao sighed. “Here we go.”

“It’s true!” Mingyu continued, leaning closer dramatically. “Don’t you remember that live?!”

You couldn’t help but snort, and Mingyu’s eyes lit up. “Ah! See? A smile. Progress.”

Minghao shook his head, sitting down properly next to you.

“He’s not lying, though. Mingyu was ridiculously insecure about his skin tone for a while, seeing the amount of comments about it.”

“Okay, okay, so how did you get over it?” Mingyu grinned, leaning back on his elbows.

“It never really leaves but I definitely have managed it better. And Hao told me I was hot.” Minghao rolled his eyes at his twist of words.

“I SAID, he was handsome. And even after the live, I kept reassuring him that his tan skin wasn’t something to be ashamed of.”

Mingyu placed a hand over his heart. “It made me feel special, especially coming from him! So touched.”

He flexed his arm dramatically. “I’m golden. Like a god!”

“Like a golden retriever,” Minghao corrected dryly.

“Still golden!” Mingyu shot back, flashing you a wide grin.

You shook your head, still laughing. “It’s different for you guys. Everyone loves you no matter what you look like.”

Minghao’s expression softened, and he leaned closer, his voice low and sincere.

“You think that because you don’t see yourself the way we do. Your skin is gorgeous, Y/N. It’s warm, radiant—golden, like Mingyu said. You stand out in a way that’s unforgettable.”

Mingyu nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Do you know how boring the world would be if everyone looked the same? You’re like a sunset—vibrant, glowing, and impossible to ignore.”

“Now you’re just being cheesy,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up.

Minghao smirked. “Maybe. But we’re right.”

Mingyu suddenly shot to his feet, holding out his hand.

“Okay, enough hiding. Time for a photoshoot!”

“What?” you squeaked.

“A photoshoot!” he repeated, grabbing your hand and yanking you up before you could protest.

“Hao, get the camera! We’re going to capture Y/N in their full golden glory.”

Minghao sighed but stood up, brushing the sand off his pants. “You’re lucky I brought it.”

“Wait, wait, I’m not ready for this!” you protested, but Mingyu was already dragging you toward the shoreline.

“You’re always ready, Y/N,” he declared. “You just don’t know it yet.”

Minghao trailed behind, his camera in hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll edit the pictures if Mingyu makes you look like a fool.”

“Hey!” Mingyu pouted, but you couldn’t stop laughing as the two of them bickered back and forth.

By the end of the day, you were soaked, sandy, and slightly sunburned—but you also felt lighter, freer.

As you scrolled through the photos Minghao had taken—each one more beautiful than the last, you realized they were right.

“Can you send me those!” Mingyu teased, making you smack his arm.

Both of you giggle until Mingyu suddenly turns you over, onto your back. You look at him confused but he quickly switches your emotions as he kisses you deeply.

The kiss goes on for a while, his hands just squeezing your hips and groaning every time you pull on his hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he lets out, pulling away from your mouth and placing kisses onto your neck.

Almost planned, Hao walks in with a smile plastered on his face.

“Come on, let us show you how much we adore you.”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Kingdom Fall  -  Four

Pairing: Farmboy!Bucky X Princess!Reader

Summary: When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be.

Warnings: Violence, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, mentions of SA, Mentions of Murder,

Word Count: 4.2K

A/n: Like lowkey i didn’t know anyone was interested in this series but ig some of y’all are which is great cause i have 7 parts of this already written lol

Series Masterlist

~*~

“Again!” Steve shouts, glaring at the farmboy who’s fallen onto his back.

You watch as the two spar, admiring how they move, how their muscles ripple and flex as they fight.

It’s been near two weeks since Steve found you, and James has already picked up on how to wield a sword. Something about the way he holds it with such ease has you questioning just who he truly is, but you pay that thought little mind.

Instead, you focus on the map in front of you, circling specific areas where you know your people will seek refuge.

All you need now is to gather supplies.

You look around James’ small little house and a wave of sadness crashes over you.

He would really leave this for you. He would abandon his post for someone he barely knows.

Since Steve’s return, James has been a little more reserved, a little bit quieter than before.

And Steve has been a little more agitated than normal. The soldier that you knew was kind and softhearted. The man who found you is rough and aggressive. You’re not sure if it’s because of the circumstances, or if there’s something beyond that that is causing his new attitude.

You glance out the window again, unable to tear your eyes from the two men for long as they spar.

Both have relieved themselves of their shirts beneath the hot sun, opting instead to work bare from the waist upward.

You watch, impressed, as James manages to get Steve onto his back, yielding to the brunet.

He has the skill of a born fighter, and the grace of one as well.

He offers his hand to Steve, who glares at it and rises to his feet.

“You do not help the enemy,” he barks, glaring at the farm boy.

James stares at him for a long moment before speaking.

“And you do not turn your back on your allies,” he retorts.

Steve glares at him then turns away. “We are finished for the day.”

You can't help but roll your eyes at them and their antics.

They enter the cabin together and you don’t look up from your maps.

“I do hope that by the time we enter battle, you two are no longer squabbling like boys,” you muse.

“We are not squabbling,” Steve murmurs, pulling up a chair and taking a seat.

You look between the two men, lips pursed.

“Well then, what would you call it?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer but gets silenced quickly when James raises his hand.

The blond glares at him, the expression fading a moment later when he hears what’s got the brunet on edge.

“Horses,” you murmur, rising to your feet and peering out the window.

The two men come behind you, each ready to protect you with their lives.

“They wear the King’s colours,” James says, his arm finding your bicep and pulling you from the window.

The horses are barrelling down the gravel road, still a fair distance away, but you’ve no doubt that they’re looking for you.

“Guards searching for refugees, no doubt. For us,” Steve whispers.

You look between the two men for a moment before your eyes dart back to the window, trying to formulate a plan.

“Here, follow me.” James grabs your hand and leads you toward the bedroom. “There’s a small door to the cellar beneath the bed. You should be safe there.”

Steve pulls you from the brunet’s grip and shakes his head.

“Why should we listen to you? For all we know, this could be an ambush.”

You’d be lying if you said the thought never crossed your mind.

You peer over at James, waiting to see his response, to see if there’s any malice or lies behind his eyes.

You find nothing but honesty and worry, though, as he defends himself.

“I have already sworn my life to protect her. I would not risk endangering her. And, if I were to want harm to befall her, why would I allow you to teach me how to wield a sword? And why would I not have done it prior to your arrival?”

He asks question after question that holds nothing but proof of his true intentions.

Steve must realize this, too, because he reluctantly moves the bed and opens the latch on the floor.

A dark hole greets you, and a ladder leads the way.

Steve, ever the warrior, leads the way, calling for you to follow him once he's reached the bottom.

You take a deep breath, eyes connecting with James’ one last time before you begin your descent.

A warm hand finds the small of your back as your feet hit the floor, and you and Steve look up at James as he stands above you.

“As soon as I am certain they're gone, I will come fetch you.”

You nod, “be safe.”

He smiles softly at you, his eyes tender for a brief moment before he closes the latch, submerging you and Steve in darkness.

“This was a bad idea,” the blond murmurs after a moment, stepping closer to you when he hears the bed scratch along the wooden floors above your heads.

“You didn’t exactly have a better plan, did you?” You retort, reaching for him and allowing your fingers to spread across his chest.

One of his hands comes up to hold yours in place and he sighs heavily.

“I do not trust him, Princess. He has not yet proven to me that he is trustworthy.”

“But he’s proven it to me. Is that not enough for you?” You question softly.

Since you were a young girl, Steve has been there for you. Even as a sickly child, he still pledged his life to you, swore his sword would forever be yours and that he would always protect you and obey you - and you, in turn, swore to never take advantage of his oath. He’s made sacrifice after sacrifice for you, as you have for him, and so you thought you were at a point where you could trust each other endlessly.

“Princess, I do not question your judgement,” he clarifies softly, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. “I question his intentions. You will forgive me if it takes more than a moon cycle or two for a Lornillian man to prove his worth to me.”

You ponder his words carefully while your fingers trace patterns on his chest.

You understand where he’s coming from. Steve has seen firsthand what the men of Lornilla have done. Though you feel in your heart and soul that James is different. He must be.

You trust him.

Maybe not wholly, but enough to allow him temporary power over you.

“I... I understand your hesitance in trusting him,” you finally concede, nodding along with your own words though he can barely see you in the darkness of the cellar.

“I do understand, though I hope you are not closed off to the idea of there being good in men. I have found it in myself to trust a man born of Lornilla before, and now I am doing it again.”

Steve falls silent, the reminder of his past haunting him.

The two of you have spent many nights by a campfire, telling stories of your past. Reliving horrors that you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place. And every time you both have come to the conclusion that, had you not seen and experienced such hardships, you would not be the people you are today.

You open your mouth to speak again but snap it closed when you hear footsteps creaking overhead and male voices talking. One is familiar. The others are not.

Steve pulls you closer, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he glares up toward the cellar door, ready to fight to the death for you if need be.

For a brief but definite moment, you realize how foolish this has been.

You truly have not known James long at all, and now your life is in his hands.

No more than before, you suppose.

But now you have no advantage. At least before, when it was only the two of you, you had your weapons and your skill. Sure, he may be stronger, but you’re a warrior. A fighter. You’ve fought more battles than you can count and slain more enemies than you’d like to know.

But now? Now you’re completely at the mercy of the Lornillan men. If they were to storm the cellar they would have the upper hand. You are nothing more than a sitting duck, awaiting a hunter's arrow.

The footsteps fade from the room, but Steve stays standing at attention, eyes trained on the cellar door.

He shoves you behind his back and unsheathes his sword when the bed scratches against the floor a few minutes later, and then the two of you are showered with light.

He blinks furiously against it, willing his eyes to adjust so he can do his duty, so he can protect you, but James stands alone at the door to the cellar.

“They’re gone. The dust has settled behind their horses, but I cannot be sure they will not come back.”

Steve glares at him then climbs out, scanning the room and the house before returning to you only to find you accepting James’ help out of the cellar.

“What did you tell them?” The blond demands, glaring at the farm boy.

James looks between the two of you and sighs.

“They’re looking for the missing Princesses of Aresia. I told them I know nothing of Aresia. I thought our King strong enough to overthrow women.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, pondering his words for a long moment before turning to Steve.

“You need to train harder. We do not have time to spare anymore. It is only a matter of time before they come back or worse - find the others. We need to leave and we need to do so soon.”

Like seasoned soldiers, the two follow your command diligently.

The next several days are spent with the two of them training while you pour over maps and books and stockpile all the supplies you can.

Since Steve’s return, your nights have been spent alone in James’ bed. The brunet uses the excuse of tending to the animals - a task he is no longer able to do during the day- and the blond claims to be monitoring the perimeter.

You’re going over the route to safety one more time, trying desperately to memorize it before your journey in a few days.

The supplies have been packed, for the most part, and are stored in the stables with the horses.

The sun has just begun setting, and James and Steve are wrapping up their training for the day.

You’re so caught up in your reading that you almost don’t hear the hooves beating against the gravel.

Almost.

When you notice the guards, you shoot to your feet and immediately grab your weapons from where they lay strewn across the kitchen table.

You rush out the back door into the field where the men are sparring, both of them freezing when they see the panic on your face.

“Riders. Men of the King. They’ve come back.”

The two men look to the gravel road and Steve feels his stomach drop while James’ heart ties itself in knots.

“We cannot risk going back to the house. They’re too close, they’ll see us,” Steve murmurs, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the barn.

“In the hayloft. There are bails to hide behind. A ladder leads there from behind the pile in the far corner. They will not think to look there. Move quickly,” James urges, turning toward the pig pen to busy himself with the animals.

You and Steve follow his instructions, running over to the barn and yanking the door open, then slipping inside and pulling it shut tightly behind you.

You follow James’ instructions and climb the ladder in the corner with Steve hot on your heels.

The hayloft is old and rickety, and you pray that it doesn’t collapse under the combined weight of you and Steve.

Eventually, the two of you settle, buried beneath the hay and pressed tightly together.

He has an arm wrapped around you, keeping you grounded and making sure you know he’s there, that he’s not going to let anything happen to you.

Meanwhile, James is trying to make it look as though he truly has been working in the fields all day, rather than sparring and training to fight against the very Kingdom he resides in and provides for.

“You there! Farmboy!” A guard shouts, barrelling onto his land on horseback. There are at least six other guards behind him, all on horses, and James feels like he may be sick.

“Yes?” His voice is surprisingly steady.

“Have you seen any refugees? Fleeing from the neighbouring country? Women?”

James pretends to think for a moment then shakes his head.

“None through this way, no. Why? Are we expecting some women folk?”

The guard looks around James’ property then looks over to the house.

“May we come in?”

James swallows hard then nods, wiping his hands on his pants.

“If I’d’ve known you lot were coming I would’ve put some tea on.”

The leader only chuckles and shakes his head.

“That won’t be necessary. We only need to have a word with you.”

James leads the way back to the house, taking note of the few guards who don’t follow and instead opt to look around his property.

Trying to act as casual as possible, James takes a seat at his kitchen table and prepares to put on the act of the century.

“So, you have not had any visitors lately? Nobody unexpected has come around?” The guard asks.

James shrugs, “besides yourself? No.”

The guard nods, slowly taking a look around the house.

This guard is different than the one that came the first time. In fact, they all are.

These ones are rougher. Far harder and they have an anger beneath their eyes that has James on edge.

He’s not sure it’ll be so easy to talk his way out of it this time.

“If you were to come upon a woman, what would you do?”

James shrugs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, I reckon I would probably use her the way women need be used. Stuff her full of my cock an’ see if she has any use. Otherwise, I would bring her to town. Sell her for a penny or two.” The vile words physically hurt to speak, and James hopes you never have to hear him speak this way.

The guard nods, eyeing the brunet carefully.

“The King has now put out a notice that any woman who is not visibly owned by a man or accompanied by her owner will need to come to the village square to have her worth determined. Especially if she is a face not seen before. We do not care for whores at the whorehouses. They have no business in the village square. But women who seem untouched. Women who do not understand the way the world works. Women who would dare speak against you. Those are the ones that are to be collected and brought before us for judgment.”

James nods his understanding.

“Should I stumble upon one, I’ll be sure to bring her to the village square.” He pauses for a moment then looks up at the guard, “do I need to leave her untouched?”

The guard chuckles and claps a hand on the brunet's shoulder.

“You may do what you please with her, we only need her alive to determine her worth.”

The guard takes a calculated look out the window, then nods to himself and rises to his feet.

He roots through his pockets for a long moment before producing a small coin purse and dropping it on the table.

“Consider this... payment for your cooperation. I’m sure you’ll find it more than enough to cover the expenses.”

James pulls his brows together then follows the guard's gaze out across the field and toward the barn.

Smoke pours from the roof, and James feels his stomach drop into his feet.

“Well, we’ll be on our way now. You remember what I said about those women. Failure to bring them forward is treasonous, punishable by death.”

James only stares at the barn, his heart racing in his chest as the guards leave.

You don’t notice it at first, nose pressed against Steve’s chest. It isn't until you hear it that you start to question what’s going on.

“Is that...” Steve trails off quietly, sniffing the air then pushing into a seated position.

Sure enough, bright orange flames lick up the sides of the building, the hay feeding the fire quickly.

Beyond the crackling of the fire, you can make out male voices speaking just beyond the door.

You slowly raise your eyes to Steve’s silently asking him what to do, if you can fight your way out of this.

He takes a slow breath then nods toward the ladder that you climbed to get to the hayloft.

Slowly, you climb back down, one hand pressed to your mouth and nose to try and prevent inhaling the smoke as much as you can.

Steve follows you down then jogs silently over to the barn door, one ear pressed to it before he shakes his head and makes his way back over to you.

“They’re standing at the door. We cannot leave that way. We must find another exit.”

You swallow hard and nod, looking around the barn for anything that could be used as an exit.

The building quickly fills with smoke, the temperature increasing as the fire devours the hay.

Time is running out.

Sweat is already beading across your neck, a single droplet rolling down your back as you and Steve search for another exit.

The crackling of the fire is almost deafening and the heat is quickly becoming unbearable.

You duck under a low-hanging beam near the back of the barn, desperate to find another exit. A hole in the wall. A window. Anything that will grant you even a breath of fresh air to clear your head.

Each breath has your lungs stinging and your head growing cloudier.

“Princess!” Steve’s voice whispers harshly, a hand finding your bicep and tugging you closer to the wall.

You look up at him, confused and groggy as more of the smoke clouds your senses.

His blue eyes seem far away, the smoke between the two of you muddling those clear depths.

“Steve,” you whisper, one hand finding his forearm.

This can’t be it, can it? This cannot truly be how it ends for you, not when you have so much to do, so many people to save.

You stumble a step and cough as the smoke invades your lungs.

“This way, hurry,” Steve whispers, grabbing your hand and leading you along the wall.

You follow blindly, the flames growing taller and stronger and consuming everything in their path. It will only be mere minutes until you and Steve are included in that.

“Hurry, Princess. Out this way,” Steve whispers, pointing to a small door along the wall across from you, directly across from the main door.

You look over at him and give him a nod, then hurry across the barn and through the flames with him right behind you.

A loud creak sounds from overhead and you pause for a moment to find the source of the sound, and a moment is all it takes for a beam from the ceiling to come tumbling down toward you.

“Princess!”

One moment you’re staring certain death in the face, and the next moment you’re on the ground, gravel and hay biting into your skin.

“Steve!” You rush to his side, eyes wide as you see the beam pinning his leg down.

“I’m all right,” he rasps, panting hard then coughing, “it’s only on my armour.”

You reach for the beam without thinking, grabbing and heaving only to cry out softly in pain as the hot wood burns your skin.

Releasing it as slowly as you can manage, you wipe your hands on your dress and look around desperately to find something to give you enough leverage to push the beam off of him.

“Go, Princess! Now!” Steve commands, glaring at you when you shake your head at him.

“No. I left you once, I will not do it again!” You retort, reaching for the beam again only to be overtaken by a fit of coughs.

“You are of no use to your country, to your people and your sisters, if you are dead.”

Your eyes meet his and you shake your head, beyond furious.

You will not leave him to die.

With shaky legs, you rise and run out of the barn coughing as the fresh air bites at your lungs.

“(Y/n)!”

You look to the sound, pointing to the barn as your coughing continues.

“Steve,” you croak, grabbing James’ hand when he rushes to your side, “he’s trapped. Please, y-you must help him.”

James looks up at the burning barn then back down to your face, his decision made.

Without a second thought, he rushes into the burning barn toward the blond on the floor.

He inspects the scene, one hand covering his mouth and nose to prevent the smoke from getting to him too quickly.

Grabbing a stray branch from the ground, James hurries to Steve’s side and shoves the wood beneath the beam pinning the blond to the ground.

With a mighty heave, he frees the soldier, and Steve is quick to scramble out of the barn with James hot on his heels.

The blond coughs violently, immediately rushing to your side and checking you for injuries with little regard for his own health.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, one hand cupping your face while his eyes scan your body.

You shake your head, hating how strained his voice is. It reminds you of when the two of you were children and he was more sick than he was healthy.

James watches the exchange and feels his stomach sink just the tiniest bit.

It sinks further when the reality of the situation hits him and he realizes just how much he’s lost.

He turns to the burning barn with tears in his eyes.

He remembers building that when he was just a boy with his father. Tending to the animals, playing in the hayloft with his sister.

His whole life has been spent here, and now it’s nothing more than a pile of rubble.

Your eyes find the brunet and sorrow makes your own heart heavy.

You slowly make your way over to him, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

“James...?”

He takes a deep breath and turns to you, his eyes glossy.

“When do we leave?” He asks, his voice full of both anger and pain.

You take a deep breath and look at everything in front of you. You look at the burning barn, at the setting sun and the small farmhouse.

Your gaze then travels to the men with you.

“The way to the shelters is long. We must go through the city and gather provisions. We leave tomorrow.”

James takes another deep breath and nods, turning away from the smouldering remains of his past life and looking you in the eye.

“It is not safe for women in the city. You will need to do as I say. The men will be harsh, but you cannot argue. Being by our side will do you well and keep you safe, but if other men realize who you are, they will not hesitate to slay us where we stand in order to get to you and bring you before the King.”

You swallow hard and nod, trying to take it all in.

This will be a true test of your patience and your acting all in one.

“With the gold they gave me for... my trouble...” James begins, “we will have more than enough to cover food and water. Likely enough to last several weeks. We will walk the horses through the city, you will need to wear a cloak that will cover your weapons and your identity.”

He turns to Steve, “you will need to listen to me. This is the city that I grew up in. I know how to travel unnoticed. You and your mannerisms will stick out like a sore thumb. If we are to ever reach our destination safely, you will both need to trust me and follow along with what I do.”

Steve glances at you, waiting for you to agree before he does.

When you finally nod your agreement, the blond does the same, and James sighs.

“Rest. I will salvage what I can overnight.”

Steve places a gentle hand on the brunet's shoulder, smiling softly.

“I will help you,” he says firmly, allowing the brunet no room to argue.

James’ eyebrows raise and he looks between you and Steve carefully.

“We all require sleep this night. I will help you,” he repeats.

James slowly nods and you watch as the two of them head off together to salvage what they can and prepare for the long journey ahead.

[blissfullyecho]

Dealing with Haters on your Level Up Journey.

People are gonna talk about you anyway, you might as well get hotter and richer as they talk.

Victoria’s Secret had the biggest glow down to make insecure women feel better about themselves. Same with Hollister/Abercrombie. Jennifer Lawrence is irrelevant and doesn’t get casted for anything good anymore because people got sick of her just as fast as they fell in love with her.

Why? Because when you try to be FOR everyone, it ruins the experience of you and your brand. People that feel uncomfortable with how you look and how you want to better yourselves were always in a secret competition with you. And to be honest, they always felt like they’re better than you. But the thing is, when you decide you want to level up, they take it as a threat to their status when they’re with you. That’s a good thing because they know (probably even more than you) that you have what it takes to get there.

It’s okay to be exclusive. It’s okay to only want to be associated with things that are on brand with you. From the examples I wrote above, see what happens when you dim your light and change yourself to make others feel good? It literally ruined all of them and they tried to make a comeback but each time they failed. Fenty… a brand that promoted inclusivity but it’s not talked about too much.

To get elevated status, get comfortable with shining so bright you make other people uncomfortable. Kim Kardashian has done sooooo many things and got herself cancelled so many times but why is she still relevant? Because she never changed herself for the approval of you. She’s going to make a bag regardless and she was trained that all publicity is good publicity.

When influencers get cancelled (hi), we make SO much money. It’s disgusting how much money we truly make when people cancel us. We are signing deals left and right for contracts 30-60 days from then when we’re still relevant for people to check if we’re still cancelled, but it’s not too fresh to work with a company if that brand will get cancelled for working with us too soon. Why do you think all apology videos from influencers are fake? Because money is coming in, in crazy amounts.

The more you are unapologetically you, and you’re all about yourself, the more relevant you’ll be. The more talked about you’ll be. The more at peace with life you’ll be. I believe that people come into your life match with the current version of yourself. That one might sting a little, but you’ll attract authenticity when you’re authentic to yourself. Don’t wait for permission to better yourself. Remember… lol it’s always the ugly ones that hate. I’ve never seen a pretty girl to be jealous of someone else’s level up unless there was a threat.

xoxo hoped I helped!

🖤🍸Make sure to check out my book called The Luxe Girl’s Playbook to Life for a fresh perspective on reinventing yourself for 2025. You’ll receive immediate access after purchase.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Is it just me or have the Sussexes laid low? I kinda think they aren’t interested in playing games anymore and are sort of quietly living their lives now. I don’t think they’re still gonna do that overshadowing on the BRF’s special days thing. My memory might need to be refreshed but the last I remember of them doing that sort of thing is when Nacho posted Meghan’s dog biscuits on the day of Kate’s return at Trooping the Color which got her called out by the media. But since then, I feel like they have laid low. Idk… I don’t wanna summon them lol but I feel there is some peace and quiet in the royal watching world for a few months now.

They always lay low like this before they do something big and splashy. It’s their tell.

Take last year, for example. They were pretty quiet from mid-November 2023 to late January 2024, making just a couple of work-related appearances. But then February came and the Sussexes took Vancouver by force with:

A) exclusive and first public royal comments about Charles’s cancer diagnosis

B) massive PR clapbacks responding to rumors of problems in the marriage and criticism

C) a huge rebrand from Archewell to Sussex Royal, complete with a brand new website, official use of Meghan’s Royal cipher, and endorsed by the BRF (or at least Charles) when the official palace website linked to it

D) the biggest, clearest trial balloon of bringing the Sussexes back into the fold (which was nixed faster than the speed of light after KP told the press “over William’s dead body”)

E)And then less than a month later, Meghan launched ARO with her oft-promised return to social media in a slick promo video that went absolutely nowhere.

F) Followed by “woe is me” PR after Kate’s BBC video statement because they weren’t told beforehand and had to learn about her condition the same time the rest of us did.

Discussion about the February events:

So we've been here before. After the Colombia trip in August, the Sussexes have been pretty quiet with just work-related appearances. Meaning that soon there will be something big, splashy, and messy from Montecito. Will it be a divorce announcement? Will it be a massive PR clapback campaign? Will it be a new strategic initiative? Will it be ARO's actual launch and product rollout? Will it be a welcome back to the BRF, or even just a trial balloon? No one knows.

But something is definitely coming down the pike. It's very much "the kids are too quiet" energy.

[bouquet-of-flow3rs]

Blood Lust

Chapter I

!Pairings: Vampire!Ot8!Straykids x Reader

Genre: Supernatural AU, Slow Burn, Angst, Future fluff, MDNI!

!TW!: Violence, thoughts of suicide, sexual assault, being chased, MC is cut by a knife, mentions of legs being broken, blackmail, non-consented pictures and videos. mentions of being choked, bruises, blood, toxic relationships, whipping, degrading names, MDNI. [Let me know if I missed anything!]

[A/n: Please read the prologue first it will make more sense lol]

Waking up the next morning feels like hell. Everything hurts from the bruises on your neck to the throbbing pain coming from your core, you’re not even sure if you can get up, your lower half especially hurting, and the feeling in your legs is numb but the ache that is settled in your bones reminds you of the pain you endured last night, all of this makes you think how you may need to call out of work but you know you can’t because you need the money if you’re ever going to even get close to escaping this hell hole.

You know that even if you do manage to get the money to leave Sungwoo would come up with some outrageous reason why you can’t, like the time he threatened to kill himself if you left just as he’s done many times before, and if he doesn’t try to guilt you then you know that he may try to hurt you or blackmail. You still remember what he did to you one of the last few times you've told him you were going to leave, he blackmailed you with nudes and videos he'd taken while he took advantage of you, you’re aware he has many of both your least favorite pictures he has of you are the ones where he's written degrading words across your body and the ones where he has you tied up in rough, scratchy ropes, but you hated the videos he has more than any photos he may have, many of said videos are close-ups on where he shoved his dick into you or where you’re sobbing and he believed your tears were ones of pleasure. When you told him you didn’t care and that he could go ahead and post them he stormed off to his room before returning and swinging a metal bat at your legs fracturing them, you vividly remember the guttural cries that left your throat as he repeatedly brought the bat down on you, you remember trying to crawl away from him using your forearms to drag yourself away and you recall the evil grin on his face when he dragged you back by the ankles turning you over so you were on your back and gripping onto the roots of your hair making your scalp burn in pain, “Sorry but you aren’t going anywhere.” You remember him spitting out at you before he quite literally spat on your face, tearing off your clothes unbuckling his belt and pulling down his jeans. You remember how after he was done he left you there in the entryway leaking his unwanted cum, legs broken, and bruises littered all over your body. Even just thinking back on that memory makes you feel ghost pains of what happened that day, you also remember how he never even bothered to bring you to the hospital so you ended up healing incorrectly. 

After finally getting off of your bed you slowly make your way to your dresser to pull out some clothes for work, you want to make sure you cover your bruises well enough, you struggle getting dressed thanks to the bruises on your ribs and the persistent ache of your body,  you carefully sift through your dresser and pull out a cream turtle-neck sweater, you slip your arms through the sleeves and pull it over your head albeit slowly and painfully, afterwards you open another drawer and grab out a black pencil skirt, this time you struggle much more to slip it on you can’t bend without feeling immense pressure all over your body but after a few moments you manage to slip it on, lastly you grab a pair of black tights and you have to sit down before you can put those on, once you’ve managed to fully cloth yourself you walk out of your room as quietly as possible so you don’t catch the attention Sungwoo, unfortunately for you he was waiting outside your room for you when you opened the door. You stand there stiff as you can praying he ignores you but that is far from what happens because he looks up from scrolling on his phone and stares at your stiff figure, he smiles at you in an unsettling way, slipping his phone into his pocket and approaching you, you stay perfectly still as he stands in front of you, “Good morning [Y/n].” He says his hand moving up towards your hair and stroking it, “Good morning Sungwoo.” You reply holding your breath as he threads his fingers through your hair, “You look nice.” He says a bite to his tone as he eyes you up and down, his tone and stare make you stiffen up even more, “I-it’s just my outfit for work.” You stutter out, he hums his fingers moving to the top of your head before tangling them into a tight grip making you wince, “Do me a favor [Y/n],” He drawls out, “Make sure to stay out late tonight, I’ll be bringing my girlfriend over tonight and I don’t need you here to ruin it.” He glares at you, his grip out your hair lifting your head and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Okay, I’ll ask to work overtime tonight.” You whisper, dropping your gaze to the ground. “Good girl.” He says finally letting go of your hair, you both stand there staring at the ground and he looks at you with a glint in his eyes, “Don’t you need to finish getting ready, wouldn’t want to be late again.” He says condescendingly, “Now go on.” He says smacking your check lightly but hard enough to sting before walking off. You stay there for a few more seconds trying to get yourself to move and when you finally feel like you can you dart towards the bathroom.

When you finally get there you make sure to lock the door and lean against it trying to stop yourself from hyperventilating, you screw your eyes tightly closed and clench and unclench your fists all while doing breathing exercises to try and calm yourself down, you can feel warm, salty tears escaping from your eyes and traveling down your cheeks, once you’ve calmed down enough you turn towards the mirror and gaze into your reflection. You take notice of your tangled hair,  bloodshot eyes, and the bruises that peek through the top of your turtle-neck. You sigh at your reflection and begin to heat up your curling iron and pull out your make-up bag, you begin with color correcting the bruising on your skin using various products to cover it up, you cover them all from your forehead to your neck making sure none of them are too visible, you know there is no way you’ll be able to perfectly cover them but you'll at least be satisfied if you can make them less noticeable. Once you’ve completed your makeup look you begin to separate your hair in two layers before curling the bottom layer and then moving on to the top layer.

You once again stare at your reflection, you can see how visibly tired you are, and the eyebags are still rather noticeable as well as your sunken face but at the very least you couldn’t see the bruises. After you’re finished getting ready you make your way to the front door continuing to try and avoid any more run-ins with Sungwoo for the morning but of course, you see him sitting at the dining room table in the dark staring intently at his bright phone, you try to sneak past him and to the door but h speaks up before you can grab your shoes from the rack, “Don’t forget what I said [Y/n] and don’t even think about trying to run away since you’ll be out late, you know what will happen if you do.” He says lifting his head to you with a sadistic grin on his face that makes you feel sick, “I won’t..” You manage to choke out trying your best to avoid looking at him, “Good girl.” He purrs out making you feel nauseous.

Finally being out of that apartment feels like a breath of fresh air, Sungwoo has made it very clear that you are not allowed out unless it’s for work or he’s with you, but that routine feels incredibly suffocating as if you are chained to him but you’re too afraid to free yourself so you can’t help but be a caged bird. 

You don’t have a car, so you usually take the train to get to work, but the walk to the station isn’t a short one. You look up to the sky and see it’s cloudy, you didn’t check the weather for the day but seeing as how it's beginning to approach winter that means there is a good chance it will be cold today, you feel the breeze push past you blowing your hair in different directions, you sigh and you can see your breathe as if it were smoke float up. Continuing on your walk you pass by many people, you see families walking with their young kids probably on their way to drop them off at school, you also see an older couple who are sitting on a wooden bench close to some shops as they are bundled up holding each other's hands, your heart clenches and you can’t help but wish that was you, and the one that tugs at your heart the most a girl around your age who is holding on tightly to who you can only assume is her boyfriend based on the way she is clinging to him as they giggle together at some private joke, god how you want that, to be genuinely treasured by someone, but you’re happy for all of those people because it means they won’t end up like you, a bird in a cage who longs to be set free. Finally reaching the train station you scan your travel pass and the gates open for you to pass through, you walk towards the train you take and wait for it to arrive as it’s running a bit behind today, while you wait you pull out your phone checking your notifications but as always there are none, ever since moving in with Sungwoo he made you delete everyone from your contact except for him and there was no number spared you weren’t even allowed to keep you family’s contacts or keep in touch with any friends that weren’t him, the only number allowed other than his was the floral shop you worked at but even that he monitors, he’s completely isolated you from everyone even going as far as to make it so your phones were connected and if you ever wanted to download any apps he would have to give permission. Boarding your train with many other passengers you quickly try and snag a seat but you are unsuccessful, you decide to hang onto the ceiling rails but you immediately sense the feeling of a pair of eyes on you making you uncomfortable, you carefully shift your eyes around the train cart trying to figure out who it is but you can’t seem to find this person until you hear the sound of a shuttering camera coming from behind you and you instantly spin around to find that sitting behind you is an old man who is staring very intently at his phone, “Excuse me sir-” You try to confront him and he glares up at you grunting “What.”, “Uhm, did you take a picture of me?” You attempt to ask but he cuts you off with a scoff, “Why would I do that, I can’t believe you’d say that!” he outrages, “I-I’m very sorry sir but I thought I heard your phone go off.” You try and reason but he begins yelling again catching the attention of other passengers on board, “Please, all you sluts are the same, you’re so desperate for male attention you go around accusing people of peeping on you when you’re a whore!” He shouts at you standing up from his seat, he’s a short, skinny old man whose hair is bald at the top, everyone on board is staring at the two of you and you begin to shrink in on yourself, “I’m very sorry sir that wasn’t what I was implying at all I was just-” You again try to apologize but he shouts once more, “No, I won’t hear your excuses you just want attention that you don’t care who it's from you slut!” He shames you, you aren’t sure how you should even react right now so you bow your head to the man before moving far away from him towards the back of the cart. 

As the train finally comes to a stop you can still feel people's eyes on you even after the incident that took place earlier has ended and you can hear the murmurs and whispers directed at you as people begin to stand up and pass you to get to the doors, you keep your head facing the floor as they all walk past you, you finally exit after everyone has left, simply because you couldn’t deal with everyone’s eyes on you as you walked past them. After exiting the station it was another 15 minutes to the Flower shop. You moved in with Sungwoo after high school and he didn’t want you to go to college back then you listened because you believed he liked you back and just didn’t know how to show it but now you know better and that he couldn’t care less about you and he only keeps you for his own entertainment, so when you decided you wanted to get a job just so you’d be able to leave the house more often it took you many failed interviews to finally land this job and you’ve been working here for many years lasting longer than most of the other employees since once they got better education they chose to leave while you stayed, you’ve never made friends with any of the people you’ve worked with, much to scared of what would happen if you did. You thought about this the entire way to the store and when you reached it you began to unlock the doors and turn on the neon ‘Open’ sign and do all of your other usual opening routines. The store’s name is ‘Velvet Petal’, not your idea but the owner is a sweet old lady who opened this store as a family business originally but when all her children moved away she began hiring and kept the original charm of when she first opened it. Today it’s only you and a few of your male coworkers you aren’t fond of because they aren’t good with flowers or customers especially if they’re women because they always try and flirt with them so you eventually have to step in to assist them having to do all the work.

Currently, there are no customers in the store and you’re working on some floral arrangement orders that were placed earlier this week, you’ve been working so hard that you begin to sweat a bit and wipe at your neck not realizing that the make-up you used to cover the bruises and hickeys had smudged and revealed the reddish-purple skin underneath, “Damn [Y/n], I didn’t realize you were into this kinda thing.” One of your male coworkers Minjun purrs trailing a cold finger up your neck making you tense up, “What are you talking about Minjun…” You mutter out still focusing on the flowers in front of you, “Oh you know, just the fact you’re a whore who enjoys being marked up.” He says as if it were the most casual thing in the world, at this you stop what you were doing to spin around and face the smirking boy who is looking at you with lidded eyes, you make sure to keep as much distance as you can from him but it's hard to do when he’s pressing himself up against you, “Minjun please move away from me.” You plead incredibly uncomfortable with the position you’re in. That feeling becomes even worse when your two other coworkers enter the room and grin wildly at the sight in front of them, “Wow, [Y/n] such a dirty girl doing this kinda thing with Junnie in the store where a customer could walk in.” Dowon says a filthy smirk on his face as he eyes you up and down, “Nah man, I think she’s hoping a customer will walk in and see her being a slut for us.” The other boy, Seongho says as he approaches you and Minjun, “No I don’t want that, and I don’t want this!” You begin to panic trying to think of a way you can get away from the three men who are closing in on you, you try and squish yourself further back against the table slowly moving your hand around it to try and feel for anything you can use to help defend yourself with, but you’re saved when the store bell rings and you quickly squeeze yourself from the unsafe moment and over to the customer to try and get away from them, “Hello ma’am how can I help you,” You say trying to keep your heart rate steady and keep yourself from shaking, “Oh I’m just looking for a little something to help brighten my house, I was thinking some roses would look great in my kitchen.” She explains, “I see, well we have a vast selection here at ‘Velvet Petal’ so I’m sure we can find you something you’ll love.” You spout trying to keep your voice steady and put on your best ‘customer service’ face and voice. After helping the woman you tell Minjun, Dowon, and Seongho that they can clock out for the day this seems to satisfy them and they quickly leave you alone at the store much to your relief, once they’ve left you feel you can breathe again and your heartbeat slowly returns to normal knowing you won’t be put in a situation like that for the rest of work. Since Sungwoo told you to work late tonight you decided to catch up on a few custom orders you’ve gotten this week and lock up before heading to the back area where you keep the floral arranging area, you work on one of your favorite orders of this week which is for a brides bouquet. After finishing a few more arrangements you check the time and groan when you discover it’s only 6 pm, you decide to clean up around the store hoping it will help pass more time. Luckily for you, it seems to work as the time is currently 8 pm, so you close the door of the shop and start making your way down the dark streets that are only illuminated by the moon’s shine. 

There is nobody down the street except for you.

An unsettling feelings begin to pool at the bottom of your stomach. You feel as if there are many pairs of eyes on you.

You pick up the pace beginning to speed walk,

You hear the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere behind you, you try and subtly turn your head but you are unable to see anything down the pitch-black street, you try to pull your phone from out of your pockets but find that it's not there, you begin to panic even more looking ahead of you to try and find anyone there who might be able to help you but you find nothing, the familiar street shops are now closed and there is no light in sight.

Your breathing becomes heavier as you begin to hear even more pairs of footsteps begin to follow you.

You think that you may be able to lose them if you swerve through different alleyways so that's what you do you make your way down different turns and cuts to try and lose the people following you but it doesn't work so when you pass the next alley you quickly turn into it to hide.

You duck down behind a dumpster and pray whoever it is that is following you won’t look there.

The sound of footsteps echo through the dingy alleyway.

You cover your nose and mouth with your hand doing your best to stay quiet, your eyes are beginning to blur with tears, and you are shaking, you make sure you stay silent as many pairs of feet pass your hiding spot.

Things are being thrown around, there are loud thuds and the sound of metal crashing against the concrete echoes off the brick walls of the dark and filthy alleyway.

You flinch at the loud sounds pressing your hand harshly against your mouth to muffle your yelp.

A gruff voice yells, “Fuck where’d she go!” And is followed by the sound of a can being kicked,

The can rolls towards you and your eyes widen “No, no, no…” You whimper to yourself trying to scoot away from it deeper into the middle of the large dumpster.

The alleyway goes silent.

You are breathing heavier and your eyes burn at the feeling of your unshed tears.

The three men nod to each other, one of them making their way to the dumpster covered in filth, as another makes their way to the other side of it. 

You hear their footsteps echoing off the walls as they get closer and closer to where you’re hiding. 

“Come out, Come out wherever ya are~” 

You hear the deep voice of a man say from the left of the dumpster, you whimper trying to keep your voice down, on the other side someone bangs on the side making you jump, you hear a raspy chuckle coming from your left and you can see the man's worn down shoes.

“Don’t worry doll, we ain't gonna hurt ya.” 

You hear the same voice speak up.

“Yeah, we jus’ wanna play with ya!”

You can hear the man to your left side say in a croaky, dry voice, you curl into yourself covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut tightly, “Please, leave me alone..” You whisper to yourself in a shaky voice. But the dumpster is moved away from you revealing your hiding spot.

“There ya are pretty.”

One of the men says quickly grabbing onto your forearm, you yelp at the sudden movement and try to pry his hands off of you, “Please leave me alone!” You scream at the three men but they simply chuckle at your outrage.

 “Don't worry sweet thing we ain’t gonna hurt ya, we’re jus’ gonna make ya feel real good~” 

The man in the center speaks up as he approaches you, He gets closer and closer to you until he’s standing inches from you and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

You rack your brain trying to figure out an escape route and as hard as you can you swing your leg up between his legs and nail him right in the balls, the man shrivels up and groans as he grips between his legs, you next turn your body and pry the man's hands off of you before dashing out of the alleyway.

“Don’t just stand there like a bunch a idiots go catch her!” You hear the man you kicked yell at the other two.

You sprint as fast as you can past the run-down apartment buildings, you can hear the two other men running after you their footsteps heavy and echoing, you manage to make it to an open convenience store and quickly make your way into it, “Please sir I need your help!” Your words are rushed and you’re wheezing from the run, the man looks panicked and confused, “Miss are you alright?” He asks, “No, please there are three men who dragged me down an alley I managed to escape, please help me!” You beg the man, tears streaming down your face, “Okay come this way I’ll help you.” He makes his way from behind the counter and brings you over to an employees-only break room, “You can hide in here for now and I’ll call you a cab okay miss?” “Yes sir, thank you so much for your help!” You hiccup wiping your tears away roughly, the old man pats your back before he makes his way back to the front of the store.

You hear the door to the store beep and some muffled voices but you’re sure it’s the men who are after you, you can hear some loud shouting before the store bell rings again and you pray that they’ve left.

The old man comes back in and informs you that the cab is here for you and that the men left. “Thank you so much, sir.” You bow deeply to the man but he simply waves you off, “Don’t worry about it, I only did the right thing to do.” You smile at the man's generosity before bowing once more as he walks you out of the store to see you off.

The ride back to your apartment is a long and silent one, you find your phone buried in your bag, you check it and begin to panic when you see the time is nearing midnight, you had no clue those men had been chasing you for so long but you don’t care since you’re safe from them, but you know you won’t be safe when you return to the apartment, you dread what Sungwoo’s may think happened, ‘Does he think I ran away?’, 

‘Will he worry when he knows what happened, will he even care?’, ‘Will he hurt me because I’m coming home late?’ 

You begin to overthink what may happen upon your return home.

When you finally make it back to the apartment building you take your time choosing to climb the stairs even if your body screams at you for doing so simply because it means you can put off the inevitable.

You stand outside the door trying to calm yourself down before finally pulling out your keys and unlocking the door, low and behold Sungwoo is waiting for you at the kitchen island his fingers interlaced as he glares at you, “Where were you?” He interrogates, “Y-you told me to work late tonight so I did.” You stutter, he hums before standing up and taking slow and heavy steps toward where you stand in the foyer, he stands a few inches away from you now, his gaze is cold and you can feel the rage roll off of him in waves, “You smell like alcohol and trash.” He states and you gulp, “I-I was being chased on my way home from work by three drunken men.” You say truthfully but Sungwoo simply scoffs at you, “Oh yea, 'cause I totally believe that,” He rolls his eyes, “I bet you were whoring yourself out.” He accuses you, a hand making its way to your face as his fingers dig into your skin while he strokes you, “You’re such a slut that you’d go around offering yourself to men on the street huh?” He muses, “N-no that's not what happened I promise.” You plead but he ignores you, so you switch tactics, “Besides why would I do that when I have you?” You make your best puppy eyes at him trying to play innocent hoping it’ll work, “Awe you’re so cute,” You feel a sting on the left side of your cheek, “To think that would work on me, it might’ve if you’d been home sooner but its past midnight [Y/n] so don’t play dumb with me.” He glares his hand digging into your scalp as he pulls on your hair, “Not to mention the state you’re in, you’re covered in filth and your hair is a mess.” he sneers at you, he begins pulling you deeper into the house by your hair, you can feel the itching pain of it and the sting of your cheek as he drags you into your room.

He throws you onto the floor making you drop down with a thud, you watch in horror as he begins to unbuckle his belt but instead of taking off his pants he folds the belt in half, “Take off your clothes.” He glares down at you as if you were dirt on his shoe, you quickly do as he says and strip yourself naked, you know what’s about to happen so you close your eyes tightly and position yourself onto your hands and knees like you know he wants you. “Good girl.” He says before he swings the leather belt down onto your back making you scream out in pain, after only the first swing your eyes well up with tears and your throat stings after the sharp yell,

“This.” Slap “ Is.” Slap ”What.” Slap ”You.” Slap “Deserve.” Slap “For.”  Slap ”Being.” Slap “A.” Slap “Slut” 

He whips the belt down onto you after each word he speaks, you scream and cry as you begin to feel welts and cuts appearing on the red, irritated skin. “I think you need a harsher punishment to remind you who you belong to.” He speaks his face twisted into a sadistic grin, he drops the belt to the floor and walks away you know not to move and just let yourself sob, you have no idea what he plans to do but you know it can’t be good if he’s left the room.

When he returns he kneels behind you, “Be a good girl and stay still, this will hurt less if you do.” He says in a sadistic voice and it scares you because you have no idea what he’s planning to do. 

Your resounding screams are blood-curdling.

You feel the sharp blade of a knife dig into your skin making weird turns that deepen as the knife twists and turns in your back.

The blade only lifts for a second before it starts carving into you again, you can feel warm blood drip from your open wounds, he’s digging it in deep and you know it will eventually lead to a gnarly scar once it's healed.

Your screams of “Stop!” and “No!” bounce off the wall of your room as you sob into your arms as he continues carving into you. “Shut up and stop squirming or I’ll have to redo it.” He says gritting his teeth as he makes more jagged cuts into your back as you scream in pain. Once he’s finally finished he closes his blade and dips his finger into your pooling blood and writes on your back with it. You’re full-on sobbing after he’s done taking shallow breaths in and out, you can’t seem to stop hyperventilating and your vision begins to blur as you lose consciousness.

When you wake next it’s 4 in the morning and your back is burning at the open wounds and welts that litter your skin, you carefully lift yourself off of the cold, wooden ground grateful that no substances are leaking from your legs proving Sungwoo didn’t do anything to you while you were unconscious so you can make your way to the bathroom, you don’t bother putting on clothes but you do grab a fresh pair of pajamas so you can clean yourself of the dried blood and grim that covers your entire body. You slowly make your way to the bathroom, every step feeling like agony you feel the stinging of your cheek and the burn of the welts and cuts not to mention the headache that was caused by your hair being pulled. You finally reach the bathroom quickly flicking the lights on and locking the door behind you, you stare into the mirror seeing your hair is once again a tangled rat's nest and that your cheek is a burning red where the shape of a hand-print takes place. You eventually get the courage to turn around and see the damage on your back and you’re horrified at what you see.

In crooked, jagged letters the word ‘SUNGWOO’ Is etched into your skin.

Your eyes begin to tear up at the condition your back is in, not only do you have his name in horrific letters carved onto you but you are covered in cuts and welts left from the belt as well as a bruise in the shape of the buckle on you, you can see that written in your dried blood are the words ‘This slut belongs to’ as they lead down the carved out name of Sungwoo.

You begin to gag at the state of your back and quickly make your way to the toilet to throw up, your eyes sting with tears and you slump down to the ground and begin to cry shaking violently not being able to erase the image from your mind. You eventually manage to pull yourself off the floor and turn on the shower to a luke-warm temperature since you don’t want to irritate your skin even more than it is, you step into the shower and gently wash your body, scrubbing harder at areas that need it, you also wash your filthy, knotted hair and leave the conditioner in to soak while you focus on washing away the blood on you back being careful not to irritate it, you make sure not to use soap on that area and only wash it with water, you’ll make sure to take the time to disinfect in once you get out. 

After you’re clean you slip on your pajamas making sure they’re loose fitting so they won’t rub onto you, you quietly make your way to your room and pull out a first aid kit and some rubbing alcohol to help clean yourself up more, you slowly slip off your shirt and put some of the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball before delicately swiping it over some of the smaller cuts before moving onto the words writing on you, it was difficult to maneuver your arms to your back but you managed to do a decent job at disinfecting yourself.

You decide to go out for a walk to try and keep your head straight so you slip on a hoodie and as quietly as you can you tiptoe your way out of the apartment, it’s still dark out and there are no stars out due to the cloudy night sky, you make your way to a playground near the apartment and stare blankly up at the sky, you feel void of any emotions and your head is finally clear of all your dreadful thoughts, there’s no more thoughts of Sungwoo, no more pain, no more wishing for everything to end, you feels as if you’re just a drift in the night sky. You’re sat on one of the swings, but you aren’t swinging through the air, no, you’re just sitting there the wind blowing through your hair occasionally causing you to rock a bit but for the most part you sit there staring at the sky. Everything is silent, you don’t hear anything, and even the sound of crickets chirping is absent. 

“You shouldn’t be out alone at night.”

You whip your head around behind you to where you hear a voice but no one is there.

“It’s dangerous for you to be out this late.”

You hear the voice once more but this time in front of you and you spin around once more only to see no one once again, “Who’s there!” You shout into the darkness but the only answer you receive is the whisper of wind blowing past you, “I’m losing my mind.” You whisper to yourself, but you swear you hear a deep chuckle coming from the playground so you turn your head to strain your eyes to see if anyone is there, in the shadows of the night is the silhouette of a man.

You stiffen up in your position and clench your hands ignoring the pinch of the swing chains as they dig into your palms uncomfortably, “Who are you?” You demand, “What do you want from me!” Once again the figure chuckles, “I give you good advice and this is the thanks I get?” The man asks in a teasing voice, and when he receives no answer he hums, “You can think of me as a friend, and as for what I want from you it's easy,” He says, “We want to help you.” The man states casually, you can see his silhouette’s shoulders shrug, “We?” You narrow your eyes at the man, you slowly stand up from the swing and begin to back up in case he tries to approach you but you end up backing into something making you go stiff once more, you quickly realize you’ve run into a person as their cold hands wrap around your shoulders.

“That's right, we only want to help.” 

The person behind you whispers into your ear, his voice is deep and has an accent to it, the heat of their breath on the shell of your ear making you shiver. 

You keep your eyes on the person by the playground when you see 6 more figures manifest from out of the shadows.

“I don’t know what you mean by helping me, but I don’t want your help, please leave me alone..” You choke out praying they don’t try to do anything to you.

“Don’t worry we won’t hurt you or try anything funny.” A different voice speaks up and you can only assume it’s the figure on the top of the playground's roof, “H-how do I know I can trust you not to do anything?” You stutter in response, The figure behind you hums “I suppose you can’t, but we want to help you with getting rid of that pesky parasite.” You flinch as his deep voice penetrates your ears “P-parasite? What are you talking about?” You whimper out, 

“I think you know what we’re talking about.” 

One of the shadows speaks up.

“You reek of the smell of blood, and you look terrified.” Another voice speaks up, “I smell like what?” You ask confused, but the group ignores your question “Not to mention you’ve got bruises all over and you look tired but not the sleep-deprived kind of tired, your face is sunken in and you look like you cry a lot.” but this observation makes you even more confused, “How do you know about my bruises?” You breathe out, “We can see the hand-shaped ones across your throat, you’re clearly a victim of such a nasty parasite.” The man behind you speaks up, and out of reflex, you move your hand up to brush your fingers over the dark bruise “A-are you talking about Sungwoo?” You whisper out, You see their silhouettes nod.

“We can help you if you’d like. We can kill Park Sungwoo.”

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[theweepingangelofcas]

Pip pip from your friendly neighbourhood lurker, I saw your requests are open and so I shall request my fluffy little idea to you dear writer and I hope you find just as funny and sweet as I did.

So for my request for the mtp bois basically on TikTok I saw a vid where a gf found her bf sleeping on the soft and decided to prank him by setting up a fake game of uno (but you can choose a different board game/card game if you want) once set up she starts shaking him awake and telling him its his turn obviously confused and half asleep but still takes his turn.

I don’t have any pacifically for this request so I’m leaving up to you to choose who would be best for this scenario.

From yours truly,

Your friendly neighbourhood lurker 

Hello, Friendly Neighborhood Lurker! For your ask, I decided on a few things on my own. Sadly, I don't believe uno existed during the Victorian era, so I opted for chess instead (a game I am absolute trash at, but shall write about it nonetheless). I also decided that William and Sherlock would be the most likely to fall asleep on the sofa during a busy day, so they will be our victims lol

***********************

My Turn? - Moriarty Boys x Reader

William Moriarty

Your poor William had been working himself to death lately.

Between the long days of teaching, long evenings of grading papers, and long nights of committing acts of violence, it was a miracle he ever got any sleep.

So when he finally fell into a deep slumber on the sofa one lazy morning, you knew now was the perfect time to spring your trap.

William awoke to the realization of a few things. 1. There was fresh tea brewing beside him. Earl grey, as far as he could tell. 2. You were sitting beside him. The floral notes of your favorite perfume was unmistakeable. 3. You were calling to him. Gently, lovingly. It brought him out of his slumber in the most lovely way he could imagine. His eyes opened sluggishly, turning his head to look over at you. "Yes, y/n? What is it?" He yawned, trying to focus on your words. You giggled, "It's your turn, William." He realized what you were talking about. There was a chessboard in front of you, set up next to said previously mentioned tea. The table between you two held snacks as well, set up like one of your usual game nights. He observed the board, before chuckling himself, "I can assure you, my dear, I am not the one who placed these pieces. But, to humor you..." He picked up a pawn, using it to behead one of your knights. Another laugh, "Why do you say that, Will? We were playing, and you must've been so tired you dozed off-" "This board is set up to a Stafford's gambit. Though I am no great chess player, even I know that this is a poor choice of plays." You finally released your laughter, trying to scoff it down to no avail, "And here I was, dear, hoping I had finally tricked you." Finally, he sat up. leaning across the table to give you a peck on the cheek. "Mm. Maybe one day, my sweet girl. Maybe one day."

Sherlock Holmes

This man is the most manic creature ever created by fiction, do you think he sleeps on a regular basis?

He's too smart to fall for your tricks after just one nap, which is why you waited for a much different occurance to happen...

You waited til he was coming back from a case.

"Dove?!" He was elated. His latest case had truly been genius. A devious crime scene, a truly mad perpetrator, everything he could have wanted! Even a headless nun! He simply had to tell you, his beloved partner of 2 years, all about it! "I'm over here where you left me, Lock!" He ran to you, bounding over heaps of books that he had looked through earlier, before joining you on the ragged sofa. In front of you was a chessboard, still in the early few plays. "Did John play a few games with you? Goodness knows that man is rubbish at chess. He should stick to being a doctor." You laughed, placing your hand on his knee, "No, dear, remember? We were just starting our game when Lestrade barged in and asked for your help." His face fell, trying to recall the events earlier that day. Truly, he couldn't recall too much besides following Lestrade out the door. A guilty look marred his face, "Dove, I am so sorry. I don't even remember. The case, it took up so much of my mind..." He looked over to you. Normally, he would have expected you to look sad. Disappointed, maybe. Instead, you had a smile. He took an extra second to observe the layout in front of him. Those were not any type of moves he would have played. He pinched your arm, and you squealed, "Liar. Good one, though. You almost got me." A kiss on your cheek, and he picked up one of your bishops off of the board. "Now, let me tell you about the headless nun."

[mixxiew]

under the eclipse | 7dream

𖦹°‧ pairing: read and find out! (or read the tags but it will spoil everything lol!)

𖦹°‧ genre: angst! angst! did i say angst? yeah basically lots of drama

𖦹°‧ word count: 15k 🙂‍↕️

𖦹°‧ cw: infedelity!!, internalized homophobia, swearing, they will fight! a lot! so just know that, haechan really suck :(, jeno is not so kind :( yeah

- the story is clearly referring to the film “Perfect Strangers” directed by Paolo Genovese. i watched some nights ago and thought i couldn’t not write it with dreamies :) i just love drama. hope you enjoy it!

summary: a group of old friends gets together for dinner. one of them proposes a game, where everyone shares every text and call they receive during the day with each other, causing secrets to surface under the eclipse.

author’s note! this work is purely fiction and it isn’t meant to romanticize any of the thing it portrays. also I am not implying any likeness between the characterization here of the characters to their real life counterparts. all the rights goes to the author of the “perfect strangers” story, i just added my personal taste to it.

Mark adjusted the heat under the saucepan, stirring the sauce with slow, methodical movements. Across the kitchen island, Yunhee was slicing tomatoes with quiet focus, pausing now and then to glance up at him.

“Long day?” she asked, brushing the diced tomatoes into a bowl.

Mark gave a short, dry laugh. “Long doesn’t begin to cover it. Three consultations back-to-back. Everyone seems to be preparing for the new year with a new face.” He smirked, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the idea of people investing so much in a jawline.”

Yunhee smiled, her gaze soft. “Maybe they’re hoping a fresh face will mean a fresh start. There’s a reason people obsess over appearances, you know.” She leaned closer, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “They believe it’s a fix for something deeper.”

He set down the wooden spoon, his expression thoughtful. “Do you really think that’s what it is?”

She nodded, her voice low, like she was sharing a secret. “I see it every day. People come to me believing there’s a magic answer to their unhappiness, and sometimes they think it’s found in something—or someone—outside themselves. In a new face, or a new job, or a new relationship.”

Mark watched her, feeling a familiar, quiet admiration. He stepped around the island and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes, savoring the touch, then looked up at him, and their eyes met.

“You ever wonder if we’re just… treating symptoms?” he asked softly. “That we’re both just polishing the surface?”

Yunhee smiled, reaching up to brush her thumb along his cheek. “Sometimes, yes. But sometimes, even the smallest shift can mean a lot to someone. We help them see themselves differently, in whatever way we can.”

He pulled her in, their lips meeting in a slow, familiar kiss, the world outside the kitchen momentarily forgotten. When they finally pulled back, they lingered close, eyes locked.

They shared a warm smile, the familiarity of their daily banter wrapping around them. Yunhee took a sip of wine, leaning in a little closer as she asked, “Are you looking forward to tonight?”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Sure. Just hope everyone’s up for a good time. Chenle is also bringing is new girlfriend right? That’s awesome. Hope we stay out of drama today, we need to make a good impression or she’ll ran away like the others.”

She chuckled, nudging him with her elbow. “Since when have our friends ever managed a night without drama?”

Mark laughed, opening his mouth to respond.

“I’m afraid you’re right…as always.”

Chinsun balanced her phone between her shoulder and ear, rummaging through her purse with one hand while listening intently. “Yes, Mrs. Kim, I understand. Keep Pepper calm, and try the ointment I recommended. If he’s still limping tomorrow, call me first thing, okay?”

Haechan watched her from across the room, a mischievous grin spreading over his face. He tiptoed over and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing his lips to her neck. She stifled a laugh, glancing back at him with a playful scowl.

“Yes, I promise, it’s perfectly safe for him. Just—oh!” She clamped her mouth shut as Haechan’s hands roamed up her waist, pulling her closer. “Uh-huh… yes, exactly… oh, stop!” she whispered urgently, trying to wave him off, but she was already laughing.

Haechan’s grin only widened as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a swift, playful kiss. With a sigh, Chinsun quickly wrapped up the call. “No no,I wasn’t talking to you Mrs. Kim…call me tomorrow if anything changes, okay? Great. Bye!” She hung up, spinning around to face him with an amused smile.

“Couldn’t resist me, huh?” Haechan teased, raising an eyebrow.

Chinsun rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe, but you’re too hot, I couldn’t stop myself” he replied with a smirk, and before she could say anything more, he kissed her again, slow and lingering this time, the kind of kiss that blurred time and erased any thoughts of being anywhere else.

Moments later, Chinsun’s laugh echoed through the room as he swept her into his arms, and their dinner were momentarily forgotten.

Some time passed before they were finally ready, a little flushed and breathless. She smoothed her dress, fixing her hair with a small, secret smile as they grabbed their things and headed for the door.

“We’re definitely going to be late” she murmured, glancing at him as they stepped outside.

Haechan just grinned, reaching for her hand. “I’m so ready for the second course tho.”

He said, earning a little smack on his shoulder.

“Jaemin!” Soyul’s voice rang out from the bedroom as she hurriedly tossed through her jewelry box, searching for the bracelet she swore she’d set aside earlier. “Did you feed the cats yet?”

Jaemin sighed, stifling a smile as he finished scooping cat food into two separate bowls. “Already on it!” he called back. “And don’t worry—Minho’s food is in his ‘exclusive dining area,’ just like you asked.” He chuckled, glancing down as Minho, their older tabby, pawed at his bowl impatiently, while Luna, their younger, more mischievous cat, watched him with a sly look, clearly eyeing Minho’s food.

“Thank you!” she replied, sounding both grateful and a bit distracted as she continued the whirlwind search for her missing bracelet. A few seconds later, she darted out of the bedroom, one heel on, the other in her hand, a brush tangled in her hair, and a tube of mascara balanced between her lips.

Jaemin couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “You’re a one-woman hurricane tonight,” he said, stepping over to her. Before she could protest, he gently took the brush from her hand and began working it through her hair, smoothing out the tangles with easy, familiar strokes. She gave a small sigh, visibly relaxing as she focused on finishing her mascara.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she murmured, finally setting her makeup down. “How do you stay so calm all the time?”

Jaemin smirked, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “I have to be calm. Someone has to keep track of everything you lose” he teased. “Besides, I like seeing you a little flustered—keeps things interesting.”

Soyul shot him a playful look, nudging his shoulder. “Well, if you’re so organized, where’s my bracelet?”

With a smirk, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver bracelet, holding it up with a satisfied grin. “Right where I found it—by the coffee machine.”

She laughed, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist and giving him a grateful kiss on the cheek. “What would I do without you?”

He pulled her close, his hand lingering at her waist while he started to leave soft kisses on his revealed shoulder.

Just as she leaned in for a kiss, a loud knock sounded at the door. They exchanged a quick, amused look before Jaemin pulled away to answer it.

At the door stood Jeno and Daeun, bundled in coats, with Jeno holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a casual grin on his face. “Finally! You two are slowpokes tonight” he teased, stepping in.

Daeun rolled her eyes, giving Jeno a playful nudge. “Says the guy who took twenty minutes deciding which wine to bring. You’re the reason we almost missed them!”

Jeno held up the bottle defensively. “Hey, this isn’t just any wine. This is a classic—goes perfectly with any dinner party. Mark and Yunhee are going to be impressed.”

Daeun scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Classic? You mean it was on sale, don’t you?”

Soyul laughed, tugging on her second heel as she stepped over to them. “You two really sound like an old married couple,” she teased, exchanging a smile with Jaemin.

Jeno shot her a look. “Better that than making everyone late because someone couldn’t find her bracelet” he retorted, grinning as Soyul playfully slapped his arm.

“Alright, alright” Daeun said with a laugh, hooking her arm through Jeno’s. “Let’s not turn this into a roast. We all know we can’t keep Mark and Yeeri waiting too long anyway—they’ve probably already started judging our punctuality.”

With a shared laugh, the four of them gathered their coats, scarves, and the wine bottle before stepping outside into the cool evening air. They walked together, arms linked or hands clasped, a relaxed rhythm to their steps as they strolled toward Mark and Yeeri’s place just a few blocks away.

As they walked, Daeun nudged Jeno’s shoulder, a mischievous smile on her face. “So, what other fancy items did you look at before you settled on that bottle?”

Jeno rolled his eyes, pretending to think. “Well, I did consider that other ‘vintage’ blend—super exclusive, and only double the price.”

The group laughed, Jaemin shaking his head. “Guess we should be grateful we got a sale-priced classic instead. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll actually taste good.”

“Hey!” Jeno protested, putting on a wounded expression as they turned onto Mark and Yeeri’s street. “One day you’ll all appreciate my refined taste.”

With another round of laughter, the group finally arrived at the doorstep, feeling light and happy as they prepared for the night ahead.

Mark stirred the sauce simmering on the stove, adding a pinch more basil as Yunhee sliced fresh herbs beside him. The kitchen was filled with the rich aromas of their cooking, and they exchanged small smiles as they worked in comfortable rhythm.

The doorbell rang, and Yunhee glanced at the clock. “Someone’s early” she murmured, wiping her hands on a towel as she walked to the door.

She opened it to find Renjun standing there, a small box of pastries balanced in his hands and an easy smile on his face. “Brought dessert” he announced, stepping inside as she welcomed him with a warm hug.

“You’re a lifesaver” she said, guiding him into the kitchen. “Mark was worried I might have to make my own pastries, and we all know how that would’ve turned out.”

Mark raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I was all for a backup plan. Just didn’t want the dessert to be… a learning experience.”

Renjun laughed, setting the pastries on the counter. “Well, I’m here to save the day.“

Yunhee smirked, giving a glass of wine to the boy, catching Mark’s amused glance. “So…Junnie, let’s talk about you little love life mh? I’ve been trying to introduce you to my friend Hana, and you bailed out the last time I invited you two to coffee. You’ve got to give her a chance—she’s perfect for you!”

Renjun shook his head, chuckling. “Perfect, huh? Yunhee, i know she’s probably nice, but it just… didn’t feel right. Plus, you know I’m terrible with setups. I’d rather meet someone by chance, not like it’s an appointment.”

Mark chuckled, nodding in agreement. “C’mon baby he’s right, quit playing cupid and let him enjoy his freedom while he still can”

Yunhee raised her eyebrows looking at her fiancé. “Markie what do you mean by that mh?”

The latter was quick to shake his head. “Nothing, my love, of course.”

The three of them started to laugh before Yunhee leaned back against the counter, smirking. “Alright, enough about Renjun’s future. What do we think about Chenle’s mystery date tonight? He’s been so secretive.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “I’m betting she’s someone new around here. He wouldn’t give up any details, and it’s strange, you know how he is- always yapping about everything”

Renjun leaned against the counter too, thinking. “Well, if he’s bringing her to meet everyone, she’s got to be someone special. Or at least, someone he thinks can handle this bunch.”

Yunhee grinned. “Well, let’s hope she knows what she’s getting into. I feel like if she’s too shy, she might just make a run for it.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Jaemin’s voice called from the other side. “Hellooo, are we still welcome?”

Yunhee grinned, dashing over to let them in. Jaemin and Soyul, along with Jeno and Daeun, stood at the entrance, bundled in scarves and coats, with Jeno proudly holding the bottle of wine. They each gave hugs all around before peeling off layers, handing their coats to Yun.

“We brought wine!” Jeno announced, holding up the bottle like a prize.

“And he spent way too long picking it out” Daeun teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Jaemin smirked. “Should be glad it’s not a box of cheap beer.”

As they joined everyone in the kitchen, Soyul shot a curious look at the group. “So, we were trying to guess, what kind of girl do you think Chenle’s bringing?”

Mark crossed his arms, sighing. “Renjun thinks she’s got to be special to handle us. Otherwise, Chenle wouldn’t bother even dare to introduce her.”

Jeno shook his head, amused. “Maybe she’s just a decoy—he’s bringing her in so we don’t bother him about settling down. You know how he likes to mess with us.”

The room filled with laughter, just as another knock echoed from the door. Before Yunhee could answer, it swung open, and Haechan and Chinsun entered, both looking slightly flushed and disheveled. Haechan was grinning wide, while Chinsun scanned the room a bit embarassed before her gaze started lighting up the moment it fell on Renjun.

“Renjun!” Chinsun exclaimed, her face brightening as she hurried over to him. She wrapped him in an warm hug, her laugh light as she pulled back. “I didn’t think you’d get here before us! This is a rare sight.”

Renjun returned her smile. “Well, I had to beat you to the food somehow” he teased, feeling the slight blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Oh please” she replied with a laugh, her hand lingering on his arm for just a moment longer than necessary.

Mark and Jaemin exchanged a quick, knowing glance, amused at Chinsun’s enthusiasm. Haechan, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow at her, his usual playful smirk returning as he slipped an arm around her waist. “Careful, baby—you’re making it sound like Renjun’s your date.”

Chinsun rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush. I’m just happy to see everyone. Now, what were y’all were gossiping about?”

Jaemin chuckled, nudging Haechan’s shoulder. “We were actually placing bets on whether you’d show up at all. Or if you’d just call it a night in the car.”

Haechan feigned offense, crossing his arms. “Excuse me, we’re responsible adults. We’d never show up late… without a good reason.”

Yunhee shot him a playful glare, giving him a light slap on the arm. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

Haechan grinned at her. “Oh, come on, you wouldn’t love me any other way.”

The group laughed, and as everyone settled into the cozy kitchen, the talk naturally returned to Chenle’s mystery date.

“Knowing Chenle, he’s probably picked someone who can throw some shade right back at him,” Jaemin said thoughtfully. “He’d get bored with anyone who can’t keep up with his jokes.”

Daeun raised her glass. “That’s why I’m hoping she’s someone who’ll make Chenle nervous for a change.”

“Or someone who’ll give us a good story,” Haechan added with a smirk. “I don’t know, I’m expecting something outrageous.”

Yunhee raised an eyebrow at him. “Be nice. Don’t make her feel like she’s on trial.”

Haechan grinned, unfazed. “Come on, Yunhee, we’re all curious. Besides, isn’t it what else are friends for?”

With laughter and glasses raised, the group settled into the easy flow of conversation, waiting to see just what surprises the night would bring.

The kitchen buzzed with chatter as Mark, Yunhee and their friends huddled around, everyone passing theories back and forth about Chenle’s mystery date. Glasses clinked as Haechan cracked one last joke.

Just then the doorbell rang, and in an instant, the group went quiet, eyes widening. Soyul clutched Jaemin’s arm, and Daeun leaned forward, excitement lighting up her face.

“Alright, moment of truth!” Jeno whispered.

Yunhee looked Mark. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go answer it!”

With an amused grin, the said boy made his way to the door, the rest of the group following closely behind him, crowding together as if each wanted to be the first to lay eyes on Chenle’s mystery girl. Mark took a deep breath, adding to the suspense, before pulling open the door with a dramatic flourish.

But standing on the doorstep, looking slightly taken aback by the crowd gathered in the doorway, there was Chenle—completely and utterly alone, with only a bottle of whiskey in hand.

“Hey, everyone!” he said, smiling and giving a small wave.

An exaggerated groan came from Haechan as he dramatically slapped his forehead. “Chenle, are you serious? I’ve been holding my breath here!”

Daeun put her hands on her hips, her expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “Just you?”

Chenle looked around, his gaze moving from one disappointed face to another. “Whoa, did I walk into some kind of intervention? What’s with the whole welcoming committee?”

Yunhee stepped forward, unable to hold back a chuckle. She gave him a warm hug, patting his back with a sigh. “We thought you’d be bringing someone special! Don’t tell me you left us hanging on purpose?”

Chenle chuckled, hugging her back. “Hey, it’s not like I planned this just to mess with you all!”

“Could’ve fooled us” Jaemin teased, crossing his arms. “With all that build-up, we thought you were finally bringing your big mystery girl.”

Chenle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright—let me explain. I was supposed to bring someone. Her name’s Jiul, but she came down with a fever this afternoon. She really wanted to come, but she could barely get out of bed.”

“Right…” Haechan raised an eyebrow, shooting him a skeptical look. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re not just making up some imaginary girlfriend because you love a good mystery?”

Chenle snorted, rolling his eyes. “I swear, Haechan, she’s not imaginary. I might be dramatic, but even I wouldn’t go that far!”

Daeun let out a soft laugh and stepped forward, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “We were all looking forward to meeting her, you know. Poor girl—she doesn’t know what she’s in for if she’s dating you.”

Chenle shrugged, giving her a grin. “Well, you’ll meet her soon enough. Trust me, if she’d known you were all waiting at the door like this, she might’ve dragged herself over just to avoid becoming a ghost story.”

“Next time, Chenle,” Soyul added, giving him a quick, warm hug. “You’re bringing her, no excuses.”

Chenle raised his hands in surrender. “Deal, deal! I’ll bring her next time. Just don’t scare her off before I get the chance to introduce her, okay?”

Finally stepping aside from the crowd Mark took the bottle of whiskey, reading the label with an approving nod. “This, at least, is impressive. It’s like you read my mind.”

“Well, figured I’d make up for the lack of a plus-one,” Chenle said with a shrug, grinning as he accepted a glass from Yunhee. “Besides, you all don’t need my dating life as your only form of entertainment. I’m sure Haechan’s got plenty of wild stories to share tonight.”

The group laughed, and Haechan flashed a cocky grin. “I always bring the entertainment, Chenle. But I’ll give you a break—this time.”

Once the group had gathered back in the kitchen, Haechan leaning comfortably against the counter, Jaemin shot Chenle a curious look. “Alright, now that you’re here and Jiul’s off the hook for tonight, you’ve got to tell us a bit more about her.”

“Yeah,” Mark chimed in, raising an eyebrow with a half-smile. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet about this girl.”

Chenle leaned against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips as he took a sip of his drink. “Well, you all know how I like to keep things interesting. But let’s just say Jiul’s… different. She’s got this thing where she somehow manages to keep up with my jokes, even throw them back at me. That’s rare.”

Jaemin raised his glass, nodding. “Sounds like she’s got your number already.”

“Oh, trust me,” Chenle said with a chuckle. “She’s more than capable of keeping me on my toes. She’s a bit quiet at first, but once she opens up…” He paused, shaking his head with a smile. “Yeah, she’s something else.”

Mark leaned back, folding his arms. “Quiet, huh? Think she’ll be able to handle this crew?”

Chenle shrugged, his grin widening. “Guess we’ll have to find out. But if she can survive meeting all of you, I’ll take it as a good sign.”

Haechan snorted, looking amused. “Well, as long as she knows she’s dating the most mysterious guy in town.”

Chenle chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright—keep the mystery jokes coming. But I’m serious, you’ll all meet her soon enough.”

Just then, Yunhee lifted her glass. “To Jiul’s speedy recovery. And to finally meeting the mystery woman next time!”

The group slowly moved toward the dining table, carrying their drinks and chatting animatedly. Haechan, true to form, was already throwing out playful remarks as he trailed behind Chinsun, who was straightening her hair after the rush to get there.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get this dinner started before Soyul’s cats call animal services on Jaemin for neglect” he teased, earning a laugh from Soyul and a glare from Jaemin.

Jaemin waved him off, grumbling under his breath. “They’re perfectly fine. And unlike you, Haechan, they actually like me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Haechan fired back with a smirk as he pulled out a chair for Chinsun, who patted his cheek as if rewarding a child for good behavior.

“Sit down and behave,” she said lightly, though her grin gave away her amusement.

Once everyone was seated, the conversation shifted to updates on their lives.

“How’s the clinic been, Chinsun?” Yunhee asked, passing the bread basket.

“Busy but good” Chinsun replied. “We’ve had a lot of emergency cases this week—mostly dogs who think eating socks is a fun challenge.”

“That’s because it is” Haechan quipped. “If I were a dog, I’d totally try it.”

Renjun shook his head with a laugh. “You’ve got the mindset for it, I’ll give you that.”

“What about you, Mark?” Jeno asked. “Still reshaping faces for a living?”

Mark chuckled. “Yeah, the clinic’s been crazy. But you’d be surprised how many people don’t realize they can’t heal overnight. I had a patient last week who wanted to run a marathon a day after rhinoplasty.”

“She didn’t!” Soyul gasped.

“Oh, she did” Mark said, nodding solemnly. “We had to convince her that, no, her nose would not stay on her face if she ran 42 kilometers.”

The group burst into laughter, and Daeun added, “I feel like your job is part surgery, part babysitting.”

Yunhee smiled knowingly. “It’s pretty similar to therapy sometimes, too. People want a quick fix without doing the real work.”

As the laughter ebbed, Renjun glanced at the clock on the wall. “By the way, is anyone planning to watch the eclipse tonight? It’s supposed to peak in an hour or so.”

Yunhee’s face lit up. “That’s the whole point of tonight’s dinner! Mark and I thought it’d be nice to make an event of it. Food, drinks, and a cosmic show.”

Jaemin raised a hand as if in mock protest. “Wait, I thought Chenle’s mystery girlfriend was the real purpose of tonight.”

The table broke into another round of laughter as Chenle groaned, sinking dramatically in his chair. “I’ll never live this down, will I?”

“Not a chance” Daeun replied with a grin.

Chinsun leaned forward, seizing the moment to ask “ So, Soyul, how are the cats doing? I saw your latest post, and they looked so adorable!” Chinsun asked with genuine excitement, clasping her hands together.

Soyul’s face lit up. “Oh, they’re doing amazing! Luna just learned how to open the treat drawer, so I’ve basically lost control of my kitchen. And Minho—well, he’s still his lazy self, lounging around like he’s royalty.”

Jaemin groaned, leaning back in his chair. “I swear, those two get more attention than I do.”

“You’re not wrong” Soyul teased, her grin widening. “But can you blame me? They’re perfect.”

“Perfectly spoiled” Jaemin muttered, though his soft smile betrayed his playful jealousy.

“They’re basically your children” Chinsun said, leaning forward eagerly. “It’s like having babies, isn’t it? You feed them, you worry about them, and they even wake you up in the middle of the night!”

Soyul nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! They’re like little furry toddlers.”

Yunhee chimed in, her tone reflective. “Animals really are like kids. They depend on you completely, and you get so attached. Sometimes I think having a pet is good practice for when you’re ready for the real thing.”

This comment shifted the energy at the table. A pause hung in the air before Haechan, never one to let things get too serious, leaned forward with a smirk. “Speaking of kids—how many of you are planning on having them?”

Jaemin and Jeno exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible glance before Jaemin replied, “Not us. At least, not anytime soon.”

Jeno nodded in agreement. “Yeah, same here. We’re just… not really into the idea right now.”

Daeun looked at Jeno, her brows furrowing slightly. “I didn’t know you felt that way. We’ve never really talked about it.”

Soyul glanced at Jaemin, her lips pressing into a line. “Yeah… same here.”

Sensing the tension creeping in, Mark cleared his throat. “I’ve always wanted kids. It’s just a matter of timing, I guess.”

“Same” Haechan said with a grin, reaching over to take Chinsun’s hand. “And, for the record, I think Chinsun would look absolutely stunning with a little baby bump. I mean, imagine—she’d be the cutest mom ever.”

Chinsun’s cheeks flushed as she swatted him lightly. “Haechan! Don’t start embarrassing me.”

“I’m just speaking the truth” Haechan said, leaning back smugly. “You’d glow, babe. Like, literally.”

The group laughed, the tension easing as the conversation drifted back into lighter territory.

“You’d glow because you’d be sweating from how much work it is,” Chenle quipped, leaning back with a smug grin. “Honestly, I don’t get the whole ‘having kids’ thing. Everyone acts like it’s the ultimate goal, but let’s be real—it’s not like having a child completes your life or anything.”

His comment drew a mix of reactions. Haechan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, while Yunhee’s eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity. Soyul and Daeun exchanged surprised glances, and Mark simply sipped his wine, waiting to see where the conversation would go.

It was Renjun who spoke first, his voice calm but firm. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? Just because it’s not something you want doesn’t mean it’s not meaningful for other people.”

Chenle shrugged. “I’m not saying people shouldn’t have kids. I’m just saying the idea that you need them to live a fulfilling life is outdated. Look at me—I’m perfectly happy without any of that responsibility weighing me down.”

Renjun leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “But don’t you think there’s value in building something that lasts? Kids aren’t just about fulfilling some societal expectation—they’re about connection, legacy, and love.”

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “Legacy? Love? I don’t need a tiny version of me running around to prove I can leave a mark on the world.”

“Maybe,” Renjun countered, his tone softening slightly, “but having a child isn’t just about leaving a mark. It’s about giving a piece of yourself to someone else and watching them grow into their own person. It’s about creating a bond that’s unlike anything else.”

Chinsun nodded in agreement, her expression warm as she looked at Renjun. “That’s a beautiful way to put it. I’ve always thought that raising a child could be one of the most rewarding things you can do.”

“Exactly,” Renjun said, his gaze still on Chenle. “It’s not for everyone, sure. But it’s not just about completing your life—it’s about enriching theirs, too.”

Chenle rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. “Alright, alright, Mr. Philosopher. You’ve made your point. But I’m sticking to my no-kid policy, thanks.”

“Wow” Yunhee said, glancing at Chenle with mock disapproval. “Remind me not to leave you alone with my hypothetical children.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to” Chenle said with a grin.

The laughter around the table eventually simmered as the conversation drifted into quieter territory. It was Renjun who broke the lull with a sigh. “Did anyone hear about Jaehyun? Poor guy’s been through it lately.”

Mark glanced up from his drink, frowning. “Yeah, I did. He found out his girlfriend was cheating, right?”

“Found out by accident, too” Renjun added. “Apparently, he glanced at her phone while she was showing him something, and bam—texts from another guy. Can you imagine?”

“Honestly, that’s the worst,” Daeun said, shaking her head. “Not just the cheating but finding out like that. It must’ve been a punch to the gut.”

Chenle leaned back with a sympathetic smirk. “It’s like phones have become the black box of our lives. They hold all the secrets, good and bad.”

Mark nodded thoughtfully, swirling his wine glass. “It’s true, though. Our phones probably know more about us than the people closest to us. Messages, emails, photos, bank details… even things we don’t consciously remember. It’s like a digital diary we forget to lock.”

“Or a digital Pandora’s box” Jaemin said, earning murmurs of agreement around the table.

Yunhee, who had been listening intently, suddenly leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You know… this reminds me of something I saw in a movie recently. What if we played a game?”

The table perked up at the word game.

“What kind of game?” Haechan asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Yunhee grinned. “Everyone puts their phones on the table for the entire night. Any texts, calls, or notifications that come in—we share them with the group. We read the messages aloud, listen to the calls on speaker, everything. Total transparency.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the idea hanging in the air like an unspoken dare.

“That sounds…” Jeno began, his brow furrowing. “… invasive.”

“And unnecessary” Mark added quickly, his discomfort evident.

Haechan laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh, I’m not sure I’m on board with that. It’s not that I have anything to hide, but…”

“But what?” Chinsun cut in, her tone teasing as she raised an eyebrow. “Afraid we’ll find out about your secret second family or something?”

Haechan pointed a finger at her, feigning offense. “Don’t start, babe. My life’s an open book. It’s just—do we really need to dig into each other’s phones to have a good time?”

“I agree” Jeno said, leaning back in his chair. “Privacy is important. It’s not about having secrets—it’s about boundaries.”

Jaemin, however, couldn’t resist poking fun at his friend. “Sounds like you’ve got something to hide, Jeno. What’s in there? A secret Candy Crush addiction?”

Jeno shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “Don’t start, Jaemin. Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to broadcast my entire life to everyone.”

The tension between them sparked briefly before Renjun jumped in with a soothing tone. “Come on, it’s just a game. It doesn’t have to mean anything. If we’re all good friends, what’s there to worry about? It’s not like anyone here is hiding anything serious… right?”

Renjun’s words hung in the air, and one by one, the group exchanged hesitant glances.

“Fine” Mark sighed, clearly resigned. “If everyone’s doing it, I’ll do it too.”

Haechan groaned dramatically. “This is peer pressure. I hope you all know that.”

“I’ll take that as a yes” Chinsun said with a grin, sliding her phone onto the table.

Jeno hesitated, his lips pressed into a thin line, but Daeun nudged him playfully. “Come on, Jeno. Live a little.”

With a resigned huff, Jeno placed his phone down next to Chinsun’s, muttering something under his breath about regretting this later.

Finally, one by one, everyone added their phones to the pile in the center of the table.

“There” Yunhee said with a satisfied smile. “Now we’re all on equal footing. Let’s see who’s brave enough to go first when something comes in.”

Before anyone could respond, Soyul glanced toward the window, her eyes widening. “Hey! The eclipse is starting!”

The group immediately stood, wine glasses in hand, and moved to the balcony to watch the celestial event unfold.

The moon hung low in the sky, its bright silver glow slowly dimming as the Earth’s shadow crept across its surface. The conversation quieted as they all gazed upward, the air filled with a rare sense of awe and tranquility.

“Is it just me, or does everything feel… surreal right now?” Daeun murmured, leaning against Jeno.

“It’s not just you,” Jaemin replied, his voice softer than usual.

As the shadow consumed more of the moon, Haechan broke the silence with a playful nudge at Chenle. “So, Chenle, is this where your mystery girlfriend was supposed to make a grand entrance? Under the moonlight?”

Chenle rolled his eyes, but his smirk betrayed his amusement. “Very funny. I think I’ll enjoy the moon more without any distractions, thanks.”

Mark chuckled. “Let’s just hope this night doesn’t turn into an eclipse of our friendships once the phones start buzzing.”

The group laughed lightly, the tension from earlier melting into the cool night air.

The group slowly made their way back to the dining room, the warm light inside contrasting with the cool, dark night outside. They settled into their seats once again, still buzzing from the beauty of the eclipse. Glasses were refilled, and the conversation naturally shifted to lighter, nostalgic topics as they relaxed into the evening.

“You know,” Haechan began, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin, “we’ve all grown up so much, but let’s not forget—I used to be the king of our little circle back in the day.”

“Oh, here we go” Mark muttered, rolling his eyes with a smile.

“No, no, let him cook.” Jaemin said, laughing as he folded his arms. “I wanna hear this version of history.”

“I was the guy” Haechan continued dramatically, ignoring the interruptions. “The life of every party. The charmer. The—”

“The biggest headache” Mark interjected with a snort.

“That, too.” Renjun chimed in, grinning. “Remember how many times we had to cover for you when you’d ghost some poor girl at a party?”

Haechan feigned offense, placing a hand on his chest. “Excuse me, ghosting is such a strong word. I simply… diversified my options.”

“Diversified?” Chinsun repeated with a raised eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, stuck with me.”

“‘Stuck’ is the wrong word” Haechan said smoothly, slipping his arm around her. “I’d say I retired from the game because I found my MVP.”

The table groaned collectively at his cheesy line, but Chinsun blushed nonetheless.

“You weren’t the only one with ‘game,’ though” Renjun said, turning to Jaemin. “Mr. Cool over here wasn’t too bad himself.”

Jaemin smirked, shrugging casually. “What can I say? Some of us don’t need to try too hard.”

“Please” Jeno scoffed, shaking his head. “The only reason you didn’t need to try too hard was because I was always stuck as your wingman. And let me tell you, your success came at my expense more times than I can count.”

Jaemin laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, that’s fair. But hey, it all worked out, right? We ended up with the two best friends. Perfect symmetry.”

Soyul and Daeun exchanged a knowing glance, their eyebrows raised. “And you two don’t find that a little suspicious?” Soyul teased.

“Not at all” Jaemin said confidently, draping an arm around Soyul’s chair. “It’s destiny. A natural alignment of the stars.”

“You mean of the drinks” Daeun joked, nudging Jeno playfully. “I’m pretty sure destiny was just a lot of late-night outings and bad pick-up lines.”

“You wound me” Jeno said, placing a hand over his heart in mock pain.

“And then there’s Mark and Renjun” Haechan said, pointing his fork at them with a mischievous grin. “Our very own nerd squad.”

“Hey!” Mark and Renjun protested in unison, drawing laughter from everyone else.

“It’s true” Haechan insisted, leaning forward. “These two were impossible to drag out. Mark was always studying or working on some project, and Renjun was, what, painting or reading about obscure history?”

“Excuse me” Renjun said with mock indignation, “I had a social life.”

“Sure” Haechan teased, “as long as it involved trivia nights or art galleries.”

Mark laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, fine, we weren’t exactly the party animals of the group. But we had our moments.”

“‘Moments,’” Haechan echoed, grinning. “Like when I had to physically drag you to that one party because you refused to leave your textbook?”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Mark protested. “It was finals week, and you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“That’s because Yunhee begged me to bring you out” Haechan said, smirking. “She had the biggest crush on you.”

Yunhee blushed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Did you have to tell everyone that?”

“Come on, it’s cute!” Haechan said, laughing.

“It was also embarrassing,” Yunhee admitted, shaking her head. “I was into this guy who barely noticed me unless we were talking about something academic. And when he did come to parties, he just stood in the corner with a drink, looking like he wanted to go home.”

Mark chuckled sheepishly. “I wasn’t exactly the most social person back then.”

“You weren’t social at all,” Yunhee teased. “But I guess it worked out in the end.”

“Meanwhile,” Chenle cut in, grinning, “I was the reason we even had parties to talk about. Admit it—my house was the spot.”

“Oh, absolutely” Jaemin said. “Your parties were legendary.”

“Legendary is putting it lightly” Renjun added. “Remember that Halloween party where someone brought a fog machine and accidentally set off the fire alarm?”

Chenle laughed, his eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, and we all had to evacuate in full costumes. I’ll never forget Haechan running outside in his inflatable dinosaur suit.”

“It was the look of the night.” Haechan said proudly.

The girls listened intently as the guys reminisced, chiming in occasionally with laughter or disbelief.

“And the Christmas party where Mark fell asleep on the couch because he had too much of Chenle’s grandpa gin?” Jaemin added.

“Classic” Haechan said, shaking his head.

“I was tired” Mark defended, though his grin gave him away.

The stories flowed easily, filling the room with warmth and nostalgia as they recounted their wild, carefree days. Each memory was met with laughter, teasing, and the occasional exaggerated retelling, the bonds between them growing all the more evident with every shared anecdote.

As the laughter from their previous conversation subsided, a distinct ping rang out in the room, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Who’s the lucky first?” Haechan asked, grinning mischievously as he leaned forward.

Renjun, sitting at the far end of the table, pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. His expression didn’t change much, but the way he hesitated to speak piqued everyone’s curiosity.

“Well?” Yunhee prompted, her eyes narrowing playfully. “What is it? Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“It’s nothing” Renjun said, placing his phone face down on the table.

“Oh no, you don’t get to say ‘nothing,’” Haechan teased, reaching across the table as though to snatch the phone. Renjun was faster, pulling it away with a smirk.

“It’s not even interesting” Renjun assured them. “Just some random promotion for the bar under my apartment.”

The table erupted into groans and laughter, with Haechan being the loudest. “A bar promotion? That’s the first notification of the night? Renjun, man, you’re supposed to give us something juicy!”

“What do you want me to do?!” Renjun said, feigning indignation. “It’s not like I control who texts me. And besides, maybe this is a sign I need to go out more.”

“Or,” Haechan said, leaning back with a grin, “it’s a sign that the highlight of your social life is your landlord’s weekly happy hour.”

Renjun threw a balled-up napkin at him, which Haechan caught midair. “Better a bar promotion than whatever spam texts you’re probably getting” Renjun retorted.

“Touché” Haechan admitted, laughing.

The conversation resumed, glasses were raised, and a few jokes flew across the table. Just as things began to settle, though, a chorus of pings echoed through the room, drawing everyone’s attention again.

This time, it wasn’t just one phone.

Mark, Jeno, Chenle, Renjun and Haechan all glanced down at their screens at the same time.

“Okay, what the hell?” Jaemin asked, his tone half-joking but tinged with genuine confusion. “Is there some group chat I’m not part of?”

“No” Mark said quickly, his brow furrowing as he read his message. “It’s just a basketball thing.”

“Yeah” Jeno added, glancing at Jaemin with a sheepish smile. “Johnny’s organizing a game next weekend.”

“Basketball?” Jaemin repeated, his voice rising slightly. “Why didn’t I get this message?”

The other guys exchanged quick, awkward looks. “It’s not a big deal” Chenle said, shrugging. “Maybe Johnny forgot to add you?”

“Forgot?” Jaemin said, his eyebrows shooting up. “I mean, I get it—I’m not the greatest player. But even Renjun was invited! And he doesn’t even play!”

Renjun, who had been quietly sipping his drink, nearly choked. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like” Jaemin shot back, his arms crossed. “You’ve never even held a basketball, and somehow, you get an invite over me?”

“Okay, first of all” Renjun said, setting his glass down, “you don’t have to attack me just because Johnny doesn’t think you can dunk.”

The table broke into laughter, though Jaemin didn’t look entirely amused.

“Come on, Jaem” Haechan said, clapping his hands. “It’s not personal. Maybe Johnny just assumed you’d be busy or something.”

“Yeah” Mark added, though his voice lacked conviction. “It’s probably just an oversight.”

“An oversight” Jaemin repeated flatly, leaning back in his chair. “Right.”

Sensing the tension, Soyul reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Jaemin. You don’t even like playing basketball that much.”

“That’s not the point” Jaemin muttered, moving away from her touch.

Daeun nodded in agreement, her voice soothing. “Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding. Why don’t you talk to Johnny about it? I’m sure he didn’t mean to exclude you.”

Jaemin exhaled sharply but nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”

Jeno, who had been unusually quiet, cleared his throat. “Hey, Jaem. Shall we go get that my bottle of wine?”

Jaemin glanced at him, confused about the timing, then shrugged. “Sure.”

The two of them got up and moved to the kitchen, leaving the others to continue chatting.

Jeno hesitated before speaking, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, about the basketball thing… it wasn’t really my call. Johnny’s the one who made the list.”

“Johnny,” Jaemin repeated, his tone skeptical.

“Yeah” Jeno said quickly. “I swear, I didn’t even know he was putting it together until I got the text. If I’d known, I would’ve made sure you were invited.”

Jaemin stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “It’s not that big of a deal, I guess. It’s just—”

“You feel left out” Jeno finished for him, his voice soft.

Jaemin nodded, his posture relaxing slightly. “Yeah. I mean, we’re supposed to be friends, right?”

“Of course we are.” Jeno said firmly. “And I’ll talk to Johnny about it, okay? You should’ve been on that list, no question.”

Jaemin looked at him for a moment longer, then smiled. “Thanks, man, you know me better than anyone.”

“Of course.” Jeno said, clapping him on the shoulder.

The two of them returned to the table, the tension already resolved. As they sat down, Chenle was in the middle of recounting one of his party stories, the laughter and energy of the group pulling them back into the warmth of the evening.

The conversation inside the house had mellowed into a cozy rhythm, everyone sharing their thoughts on recent movies and books.

“Did anyone see that new space thriller? The one with the impossible black hole scene?” Renjun asked, setting his glass down.

“Yeah, and it was painfully unrealistic,” Jeno said, shaking his head. “They really expect us to believe the ship survived that?”

“It’s science fiction” Soyul chimed in. “You’re supposed to suspend disbelief. Besides, the emotional storyline carried it.”

“Emotional?” Haechan leaned back in his chair. “You’re telling me crying in zero gravity makes up for ignoring basic physics?”

“Only you would care about physics in a movie” Daeun teased.

“Fine, maybe it’s not for me” Haechan replied with mock offense. He finished his drink and stood up with a stretch. “On that note, I’m calling a cigarette break. Chenle?”

“Yeah, why not” Chenle said, getting up as well.

The two exited to the balcony, Haechan sliding the glass door shut behind them. The cold air hit them immediately, but Haechan seemed unbothered as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. After taking a long drag, he passed the lighter to Chenle, who mirrored his actions.

For a moment, they stood in silence, looking out at the city lights.

Chenle broke the quiet. “Alright, you’re acting weird. What’s up?”

Haechan hesitated, flicking ash off the edge of the balcony. “I need a favor” he finally said.

Chenle turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “From me? That’s rare. What kind of favor?”

Haechan glanced at the door to ensure no one was listening. “I need to switch phones with you. Just for a little while.”

Chenle blinked, taken aback. “What? Why?”

“Because” Haechan said, lowering his voice further, “someone’s going to send me a picture in about half an hour, and… let’s just say it’s better if Chinsun doesn’t see it.”

Chenle stared at him, cigarette paused mid-air. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Haechan replied, taking another drag.

Chenle leaned against the railing, his expression growing more incredulous by the second. “What kind of picture are we talking about here?”

“You know.” Haechan said, his tone evasive.

Chenle gave him a flat look. “Haechan. What kind of picture?”

“A… personal one,” Haechan muttered, his gaze fixed on the glowing tip of his cigarette.

Chenle groaned, rubbing his temple. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re risking everything with that girl over nudes?”

“Shhh!” Haechan hissed, waving his hands in panic. “Keep your voice down!”

Chenle sighed, exhaling a puff of smoke. “Unbelievable. Who is she?”

Haechan hesitated again, shifting uncomfortably.

“Don’t tell me…” Chenle said, his tone sharpening as realization dawned. “It’s Mark’s sister, isn’t it?”

Haechan didn’t respond immediately, but the small, mischievous grin that crept onto his face was answer enough.

Chenle groaned louder this time, throwing his hands up. “You’re out of your mind! If Mark finds out, you’re dead.”

“He’s not going to find out” Haechan said confidently. “We’re discreet. Besides, she’s the one sending the picture, not me.”

“Wow, what a great excuse,” Chenle said sarcastically. “Do you even hear yourself? This is a terrible idea.”

“Look” Haechan said, leaning closer, “She’s always had a little thing for me, you know that.”

“That doesn’t mean you should encourage it!” Chenle scolded. “Mark is one of your best friends. How do you think he’d feel about you messing with his sister?”

“I’m not messing with her” Haechan argued.

Chenle stared at him, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Please, Chenle.” Haechan said, his tone shifting to one of genuine desperation. “I’m begging you. Just this once. It’s harmless, I swear.”

Chenle hesitated, clearly torn. He took one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the ashtray. “This is such a bad idea, I’m telling you” he said finally. “But fine. I’ll help you. Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t” Haechan said, relief washing over him. “Thank you, man. I owe you.”

Chenle rolled his eyes as he turned to slide the door open. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember, when this blows up in your face, I told you so.”

As Chenle stepped back inside, leaving the door ajar, Haechan stayed behind, staring out at the city with a mix of relief and unease. He took one last puff of his cigarette before letting it die, his thoughts racing as he trued to convince himself that everything would work out.

The air inside had warmed considerably, filled with the clinking of glasses, faint laughter, and the soft hum of conversation. Most of the group had gravitated toward the kitchen, where Mark and Yunhee busily orchestrated the next course. Renjun and Chinsun, however, remained in the living room, seated comfortably on their seats, engaged in a quiet conversation.

“You’ve always been good with people,” Chinsun said with a warm smile, her gaze steady on Renjun. “It’s no wonder the kids in your music workshops like you so much.”

Renjun rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I think it’s less about me and more about music. Kids just need a way to express themselves, you know?”

Chinsun leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest. “It’s still a talent, though. Not everyone has that ability to connect.”

Just then, the balcony door slid open, and Haechan stepped back inside, brushing the cold air off his sleeves. He immediately caught sight of the scene and quirked an eyebrow.

“Wow, you two look cozy” Haechan said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the doorway. “Should I be worried?”

Chinsun didn’t even flinch, rolling her eyes as she turned toward him. “Shut up, Haechan” she said, a hint of exasperation in her tone.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he replied with an exaggerated shrug, though his eyes lingered a little longer on Renjun before he finally walked past them into the kitchen.

And before this, without being noticed (or so he thought) he successfully switched phones with Chenle.

Daeun and Soyul stood near the counter, half-hidden behind a column, their glasses in hand. From their vantage point, they had a clear view of Haechan’s expression as he glanced over at Chinsun and Renjun.

“Did you see that?” Daeun whispered, tilting her head toward the living room.

Soyul smirked, her lips barely moving. “He’s so jealous, it’s almost funny.”

Daeun narrowed her eyes slightly. “Do you think Chinsun has a thing for Renjun?”

Soyul shook her head after a moment’s thought. “No way. She’s just naturally warm with everyone. And let’s be honest—Renjun is so clueless about stuff like that.”

Daeun chuckled. “True. And Haechan’s possessiveness is basically part of his personality. Still, it’s kind of cute, jealousy looks good on him”

Their quiet observations were interrupted as the others began filtering back into the kitchen. Plates and trays were passed around, Mark working diligently to ensure everything was perfect for the meal. The room buzzed with chatter about favorite dishes, the best way to cook steak, and Mark’s secret marinade recipe.

Once everyone returned to the dining table, the conversation shifted to lighter topics.

Mark, ever the gracious host, served up plates of food while Yunhee teased him about his near-obsessive attention to detail.

“So, Mark,” Jaemin said, leaning back in his chair. “You really could’ve been a chef. Why didn’t you go for it?”

Mark shrugged modestly. “Cooking’s a hobby. Turning it into a career might’ve taken the fun out of it.”

Yunhee rolled her eyes playfully. “Please, he says that, but he’d probably be a world-famous chef by now if he tried.”

Renjun chimed in, “Honestly, Mark, you should start a cooking blog or something. Share your recipes with the world.”

“Then we’d lose the exclusivity,” Soyul interjected with a grin. “I don’t want everyone knowing Mark’s secrets.”

The group laughed, the energy light and playful—until a phone buzzed loudly on the table, drawing everyone’s attention.

The phone’s screen lit up, displaying the name Monique.

All eyes turned to Chenle, whose “phone” sat innocently on the table.

Chenle stiffened immediately, his hand darting out to grab the phone. “Nothing to see here” he said quickly, trying to play it off.

But Yunhee was faster. “Wait a second” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Monique? Isn’t that Mark’s sister?”

A collective gasp rippled through the table. Haechan froze, his face carefully blank as he avoided looking directly at anyone.

Chenle glanced briefly at Haechan, his expression screaming help me, but Haechan offered no assistance. With a deep breath, Chenle forced a sheepish grin. “Yeah, um… we’ve been reconnecting lately.”

“Reconnecting?” Mark repeated, his voice low and skeptical. His fork paused mid-air, his knuckles tightening slightly.

Jaemin leaned forward, grinning like a kid about to witness chaos. “Open the message, Chenle. Let’s see what she sent.”

“Jaemin!” Daeun scolded, though her curiosity was just as evident in her eyes.

Chenle hesitated, clearly torn. But under the weight of everyone’s stares, he reluctantly unlocked the phone and opened the message. His face went beet red as he saw the photo: a sultry, carefully posed picture of Mark’s sister.

“Whoa” he breathed, his eyes wide with shock.

Immediately, Jaemin and Renjun crowded around to see, while Soyul and Daeun leaned over curiously. Yunhee covered her mouth, stifling a gasp.

“Chenle.” Mark snapped, his tone sharp. “How long has this been going on?”

“Just… a few months” Chenle said weakly, shrinking under Mark’s glare.

“And how long were you planning on keeping this from me?” Mark demanded, his voice rising.

Before Chenle could answer, Daeun interjected, “What about Jiul? Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

Chenle opened his mouth, floundering for an answer, when Haechan finally spoke up.

“Look, the guy finally has some game” Haechan said, his tone breezy as he leaned back in his chair. “Can we give him a little credit?”

The comment earned a mixture of gasps and laughter, though Mark’s expression remained stormy. Yunhee, however, was quick to step in.

“Mark, relax” she said firmly. “Your sister’s an adult. Let her live her life.”

Mark muttered something under his breath, but he reluctantly leaned back in his chair, though his jaw remained tight.

Chenle, meanwhile, shot a glare at Haechan, who merely smirked back at him, clearly unbothered by the chaos he’d created.

Moments later Chinsun glanced at his watch, his expression shifting to one of excitement. “Hey, it’s time! The full eclipse should be happening right now.”

Everyone murmured in agreement, standing up from their chairs and moving toward the balcony once more. The cool night air greeted them as they stepped outside, the moon now completely cloaked in shadow, casting an eerie, beautiful darkness across the sky.

Mark leaned against the railing, gazing up at the celestial phenomenon. “It’s incredible,” he said, his voice quiet but reflective. “The moon’s always there, but we only ever see one side of it. This is one of those rare times the shadow makes it feel… complete.”

Renjun nodded, equally captivated by the view. “It’s like the earth is revealing its own truth. The light we always chase is just an illusion. It’s the shadows that really show us who we are.”

“Leave it to you two philosophers to turn a pretty moon into an existential crisis” Jaemin joked, breaking the momentary silence.

The group chuckled, and Chinsun, inspired by the occasion, clapped her hands together. “This is too good to miss! Let’s take a photo.”

Everyone gathered around her, smiling and adjusting their positions. “Chenle, here” she said, handing him her phone. “You’ve got long arms—take the picture.”

Chenle took the phone with a grin. “Alright, everyone squeeze in. Ready? One, two—”

A sudden notification interrupted him, a message popping up at the top of the screen:

Sunghoon: Hi.

The screen glowed with the name, drawing a moment of awkward silence as everyone caught sight of it.

“Who’s Sunghoon?” Chenle asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, who’s that?” Daeun chimed in, her curiosity piqued.

Haechan, standing just behind Chinsun, stiffened immediately. His voice turned sharp as he asked“What the fuck does he want now?”

Chinsun waved it off, her tone casual but her expression betraying her discomfort. “No one important. Let’s just take the picture.”

Chenle glanced at her skeptically but lifted the phone again. “Alright, where were we? One, two—”

Another message popped up.

Sunghoon: I need you.

The group fell silent again, the tension palpable. Haechan didn’t hesitate this time. He stepped forward, snatching the phone from Chenle’s hand.

“Why the fuck is he texting you this shit?” Haechan’s voice was low but seething, his jaw tight as he looked directly at Chinsun.

Chinsun took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice calm. “He’s been texting me for two weeks now, but I haven’t responded to him at all. You know how much my last relationship broke me. How could you even think I’d entertain this?”

Haechan’s glare didn’t waver. “Oh, please. We all know Sunghoon thinks he’s some kind of hotshot. Does he still have that stupid haircut that you liked so much?”

“Haechan” she snapped, her patience wearing thin. “That’s not the point.”

The group began to shuffle uncomfortably as the argument escalated.

“If you don’t believe me” Chinsun said, her voice firm now, “then call him. Ask him yourself.”

“I don’t need to hear you two flirting” Haechan spat, his tone laced with venom. “Thank you very much.”

The insult stung, and Chinsun’s expression hardened as she yanked her phone back from his grip. Haechan turned away abruptly, grabbing another glass of wine from the table and downing half of it in one go.

Chenle, hesitant but concerned, stepped in. “Maybe you should hear her out first, man—”

“Shut up, Chenle.” Haechan snapped, his words cutting.

Mark, now visibly annoyed, intervened. He reached over and took the wine glass from Haechan’s hand. “That’s enough” he said firmly.

The girls, gathering around Chinsun, encouraged her. “Just call him” Yunhee said softly. “Set things straight. It’ll help.”

Chinsun hesitated but eventually nodded. She dialed the number, her fingers trembling slightly. The phone rang a few times before the call connected.

“Finally, Sunny” Sunghoon’s voice, smooth but laced with smugness. “You decided to call me back. What’s the matter? Does your boyfriend not satisfy you anymore?”

Haechan’s grip on the edge of the table tightened, his knuckles white as he held himself back from exploding.

Chinsun, kept her voice steady. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Sunghoon. Stop contacting me. I’m happy with Haechan.”

A low chuckle echoed through the phone. “He’ll never be me” Sunghoon said arrogantly.

That was the breaking point.

Haechan took the phone from Chinsun’s hand and brought it to his ear. “Thank God” he said coldly, his voice dripping with disdain. “Because I’m so much better, you pathetic fuckass.”

Without waiting for a reply, he hung up and tossed the phone onto the table, the conversation firmly ended.

He didn’t say another word, instead walking back to his seat at the dining table and sinking into his chair. The others exchanged uneasy glances before slowly following him back inside, one by one.

The air in the room was thick with tension after the heated exchange between Haechan and Chinsun. Everyone tried to move on, lightening the atmosphere by reminiscing about past vacations.

“Summer vacations are the best” Jaemin said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Nothing beats long days at the beach and bonfire nights.”

“Sure, if you like sand everywhere” Yunhee teased. “Winter vacations have charm. Cozy cabins, hot chocolate, and snow-covered landscapes—it’s magical.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, until you’re stuck shoveling snow off the driveway.”

Renjun chuckled. “Both have their perks. I think it depends on where you go. Remember that summer trip we took to Jeju? The hikes, the ocean view—it was perfect.”

“Except for the sunburns” Daeun added with a laugh. “I was peeling for weeks!”

Soyul chimed in “Winter vacations are underrated, though. Remember that ski trip last year? The slopes were amazing, and the hot springs afterward—unforgettable.”

Haechan, still visibly tense, tried to force a laugh. “I’d take summer any day. Winter’s just… depressing. Too much darkness, not enough fun.”

The conversation was beginning to lift the group’s spirits when an unfamiliar chime interrupted them. A strange notification sound echoed through the room, causing everyone to pause.

“Whose phone is that?” Haechan asked, glancing around.

Chenle, sighed trying to stay composed “It’s yours.”

Haechan frowned but nodded slowly. “Right. So… what’s the message?”

As he read the message he looked confused.

Chinsun peaked behind him “Who’s Jisung? And why’s he asking you how are you feeling?”

The table fell silent.

“What the hell?” Jaemin blurted out, leaning forward. “Who’s Jisung?”

Haechan looked at them, trying to think at some excuses. “He’s a new guys who works with me..you know he got a little crush on me and won’t leave me alone” he said, laughing a little.

“Well then” Chenle starts “why don’t you give him an answer?”

Haechan looked back at his friend, gulping. “Right…” He said as he started typing

“I said ‘I’m okay, I’m at a friend house.” Haechan said, nervously putting the phone down.

Another message light up the screen.

Jisung: What? You said you had fever! That’s the whole reason why we didn’t meet tonight. You promised me…

As everyone listen to the message, their faces light up with confusion, looking at the boy.

“What’s going on?” Daeun asked, her voice filled with confusion.

Chinsun’s face was frozen in shock as she whispered, “Haechan…? What did you have to do with this Jisung?”

Haechan let out a strained laugh, trying to diffuse the situation. “Are you guys seriously thinking—what? That I’d be into… guys? Baby, come on” he said, looking directly at Chinsun. “Look at me. How could I ever like boys?”

Renjun, sitting across the table, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. His voice was calm but pointed. “What’s wrong with liking boys, Haechan?”

The question hung in the air like a loaded weapon.

Haechan’s eyes flicked to Renjun, then back to Chinsun. “Nothing, obviously! But it’s just… not me.”

Renjun’s gaze sharpened, the calm in his tone replaced by something more cutting. “Oh, really?”

Haechan’s voice dropped, pleading. “Renjun, please—”

Renjun leaned forward, cutting him off. “No, please. Go on. This is hilarious, hearing you talk all this shit.”

The rest of the group looked on in confusion, their gazes darting between the two.

“What are you saying, Jun?” Daeun asked hesitantly, her tone laced with concern.

Renjun ignored her, keeping his focus on Haechan. “What? Did you forget about that summer? Oh, wait, maybe you forgot about the whole year too. Yeah, that happens as you get older, doesn’t it?”

The weight of Renjun’s words hit the table like a bomb.

Chinsun’s eyes welled up, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Is this true?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Haechan’s face was pale, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if to steady himself. “It’s not what you think” he started, his voice cracking.

“Then what is it?” Jaemin pressed, his tone confused but firm.

Soyul glanced between Haechan and Renjun. “Wait… are you saying you two…?”

“No!” Haechan exclaimed, his voice too loud, too defensive. “It wasn’t like that! It was just—”

“Just what?” Renjun interrupted coldly. “A phase? A mistake? Poor this Jisung guy, he doesn’t know what he got himself up to”

Chenle shifted uncomfortably. “Guys, maybe this isn’t the time—”

“Shut up, Chenle!” Haechan snapped, then immediately winced, realizing how out of control he sounded.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife when the phone rang, breaking the moment.

Chenle’s phone -now Haechan’s- lights up again for an incoming call.

The name “Jisung” flashed across the screen.

Chenle’s breath hitched. “Don’t answer that” he said quickly, his voice strained.

But it was too late. Renjun, stealing the phone, had already pressed the green button.

Jisung’s voice came through the speaker, sharp and accusatory. “Why did you lie about being sick? We were supposed to meet tonight, and now I find out you’re out with your friends?”

The room went silent.

Haechan, panic flashing across his face, stammered. “I… I don’t even know what you’re talking about… Jisung?”

Jisung scoffed, his tone cutting. “Really? Because I’ve got your location on 360. It’s over, you asshole.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving everyone stunned.

Chinsun’s tears flowed freely now, her hands trembling as she covered her face. The silence was deafening until Haechan finally spoke.

“Guys c’mon..You all know me…I would never do this. I’m not into… boys. It’s not true. None of it is true!”

Renjun let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, really?”

Haechan looked at him, pleading. “Renjun, please—”

“No” Renjun said, standing up, his voice steady but full of disappointment. “I’m done listening to this. It’s so funny hearing you deny everything, though. Keep going—it’s entertaining.”

“Renjun, stop” Soyul whispered, her voice soft but firm.

“What am I stopping?” Renjun snapped, glaring at Haechan. “Reminding him of the truth? Maybe he needs it. Or maybe he’s too scared to admit it.”

Haechan sank back into his chair, his face pale and his shoulders slumped. Chinsun stared at him, her tear-filled eyes full of betrayal and heartbreak.

No one spoke.

The room was silent, thick with tension, after Renjun’s cutting remarks. Haechan was frozen, struggling to form a coherent response, his hands gripping the edge of the table like a lifeline. Yunhee, however, decided it was time to step in.

“Okay, enough” she said, her voice sharp, rising over the tension. “Renjun, you don’t have to do this. He’s already overwhelmed, and you’re just—”

Renjun cut her off with a cold laugh, looking her straight in the eye. “Oh, don’t even start, Yunhee. You want to defend him now? I have every right to get angry since how he left me for you?”

The room collectively sucked in a breath.

“What?” Jeno blurted out, his voice laced with disbelief. “Oh god, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mark turned slowly to Yunhee, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “What is he saying?”

Yunhee looked as though she had been caught in headlights. Her mouth opened, then closed, as her hands fidgeted nervously on her lap.

Haechan sighed deeply, throwing his head back as if resigning himself.

“Yeah, Mark” Renjun said, his voice heavy. “Where do you think she got those new earrings?”

His voice was dripping with venom as he gestured toward Yunhee. “They were mine, by the way. Before Haechan decided he was fully straight overnight and that fucking his best friend’s girlfriend was better.”

All eyes turned to Yunhee, who instinctively touched her earrings, her face pale.

Soyul, her voice trembling with shock, muttered, “Oh my god, are you serious? This is insane.”

Mark stared at Yunhee, then at Haechan, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to process the betrayal. “Yunhee…” he began, his voice quiet but full of hurt.

Yunhee’s voice cracked as she tried to explain. “Mark, I—It’s not what you think—”

Chinsun, who had been silently crying, let out a bitter laugh. She stood up abruptly, wiping her tears with shaky hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me” she said, her voice breaking but laced with nervous laughter. “This is crazy. And you—” she pointed at Haechan, her laugh turning into a scoff. “You even had the boldness to accuse me of cheating? While you’re sitting here with a whole whore army?”

Yunhee bristled, standing up to face her. “I’m sorry, who are you calling a whore?”

“Oh, you heard me” Chinsun snapped, her hands on her hips.

“Excuse me, I was here first.” Yunhee shot back, her voice dripping with venom.

Renjun leaned back in his chair, watching the chaos unfold with a sardonic grin. “If we’re playing that game, technically, I was first in line.”

Both women froze, turning their angry glares on him.

Mark, meanwhile, hadn’t moved, his gaze fixed on Haechan, his face a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “You were my best friend,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “How could you do this?”

Haechan opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, looking utterly defeated. “Mark, I—”

“Don’t” Mark interrupted, shaking his head. “Just don’t.”

The room fell silent again, but it didn’t last long.

Jeno broke it with a frustrated sigh, throwing his hands in the air. “God, Haechan, you couldn’t have just told us? About all of this? Especially about… you know.”

Haechan frowned, his exhaustion giving way to irritation. “Why the hell would I have to tell you?”

Jeno leaned forward, incredulous. “Uh, maybe because we all used to sleep and shower together back in the day? I want to know if the guy I sleep next to is a homosexual.”

Haechan tilted his head, genuinely confused. “And why would that concern you Jeno?”

“Of course it concerns me Haechan I-“ Jeno started before being interrupted.

Jaemin, who had been quietly sipping his drink, suddenly smirked, half-laughing. “Oh, you shouldn’t be the one pointing fingers, Jeno.”

All eyes turned to Jaemin now, confusion written across everyone’s faces.

Daeun blinked, looking at him. “What are you talking about?”

Jaemin looked at Jeno, then back at the group, his expression unreadable. “Really? None of you ever noticed anything? You thought I had fewer girls than Haechan just because I wasn’t trying hard enough? There was a reason I was always with Jeno.”

The table erupted in shock, voices overlapping in disbelief.

“W-what..?” Jaemin’s revelation sent Soyul into full-blown tears.

Renjun, however, seemed unfazed. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Yeah, I already knew. Heard them in the changing rooms back in high school.”

Soyul stood abruptly, her sobs echoing in the room. “Jaemin,” she cried, her voice breaking. “This isn’t still going on, right? It’s just old stuff, it isn’t happening anymore right? Right Jaemin? Tell me I’m right.”

Daeun immediately went to comfort her, wrapping her arms around Soyul’s shaking shoulders.

Jaemin’s smirk disappeared, replaced by guilt as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Soyul, I—”

“Is it still happening?” Soyul partially screamed, her voice filled with desperation.

Jaemin lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes.

Soyul’s tears intensified, and she choked out “Jaemin I-m..”

The boy tried to look at her.

“I’m pregnant Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s eyes widened in shock, and he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

“What?..”

But Soyul didn’t let him approach her. She backed away, shaking her head as she sobbed uncontrollably. Then, turning on her heel, she bolted toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Renjun, looking exasperated but concerned, stood up and followed her, muttering “Great. Just great.”

The room was left in stunned silence, everyone staring at Jaemin, who stood frozen, his face pale.

Haechan, still seated, let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Well, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?”

No one responded. The only sound was Soyul’s muffled sobs from behind the bathroom door.

The tension in the room hung heavy like a storm cloud, and it wasn’t long before Jeno erupted. He slammed his hands on the table, standing up abruptly and glaring at Jaemin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he barked, his voice shaking with anger. “Why would you say that? To everyone? Here? Now?”

Jaemin, still standing, looked at him, his expression unreadable. He met Jeno’s furious gaze with a steady one of his own. “What did you expect, Jeno? That we’d just keep pretending forever? Sooner or later, it was bound to come out. Better now than years down the line.”

Jeno scoffed, his tone bitter. “You think this is better? You think this was the right time? I would’ve taken this secret to my grave if I could. That’s what I wanted.”

Jaemin smirked slightly, but there was no humor in it. “Of course you would, Jeno. You’ve always been good at hiding, haven’t you?”

Jeno’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he took a threatening step toward Jaemin. “You have no idea what you’ve just done” he hissed.

At that moment, Haechan pushed his chair back and stood, his eyes flicking between the two men. His voice was sharp as he interjected, “Okay, hold up. Where’s all this oppressed homophobia coming from, Jeno?”

Jeno whipped his head toward Haechan, his face flushed with frustration. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Haechan crossed his arms and tilted his head, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Oh, come on. You’re out here acting like Jaemin just destroyed your life or something. Let’s not forget, it was you in his bed, not someone else. Repeatedly. No matter how much you want to deny it now.”

Jeno’s face turned red, and his breathing quickened. “Shut up, Haechan. You don’t know anything about it.”

“I don’t?” Haechan shot back, taking a step forward. His voice grew louder, his tone dripping with mockery. “Because it sounds to me like you’re just mad that you liked it. That you liked him. And now you’re pissed because everyone knows.”

At this point he clearly knows what he’s talking about.

Like he’s talking to his younger self.

“Don’t,” Jeno growled, pointing a finger at Haechan, his voice trembling with rage. “Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jaemin interjected, his voice cold. He stepped closer to Jeno, his eyes narrowing. “You can try to rewrite history all you want, but you know damn well that none of this was one-sided. You were just as much a part of it as I was.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of Jaemin’s words hanging in the air like a guillotine. Jeno turned away, running a hand through his hair as he paced in frustration. His breathing was labored, his mind clearly racing as he tried to process everything.

The tension in the room hadn’t yet dissipated when Daeun, standing near the edge of the table, looked visibly shaken. Her normally composed demeanor was gone, replaced by wide eyes and a trembling hand that hovered near her lips. She had been silent through most of the arguments, absorbing the chaos, but now it seemed something had shaken her even more.

And, unexpectedly, it was her phone that buzzed sharply on the table, piercing through the uneasy quiet. The sound was different—a personal ringtone—and it made her freeze. Slowly, everyone’s attention shifted to her.

She stared at the phone like it was a live grenade, her breath catching. She gulped audibly, her hands fidgeting by her sides.

From across the table, Mark raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with suspicion. “Well? Are you going to get that?”

Daeun’s gaze flicked to him, then to the phone. Her voice cracked slightly as she forced herself to speak. “Are we really… still doing this?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with resignation.

Chenle, who had been unusually quiet during the earlier confrontations, suddenly stood and reached for her phone. “Answer the damn phone, Daeun.” he said firmly, his tone sharper than usual. His eyes met hers with a mix of concern and frustration.

Her hand hesitated over the screen before tremblingly hitting the green button.

“Hello?” she said softly, her voice so low it was almost a whisper.

A man’s voice came through the speaker, loud enough to be heard by the others.

“Daeun?” the male voice called, familiar and almost gentle.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “Yes,” she replied in a small voice. “I’m listening.”

Jeno, who had been quietly stewing after his earlier clash with Jaemin, suddenly sat down beside her. His gaze bore into her, searching, confused, concerned. The intensity of their eye contact was palpable, like an entire conversation was being held without words.

The man’s voice on the other end of the phone continued, oblivious to the growing tension in the room. “I’ve been thinking about you. About… us and everything.” His tone dropped slightly, more hesitant. “How have you been feeling? Since, you know… the thing?”

The weight of his words dropped like a bomb in the room.

Jeno’s eyes narrowed slightly, confusion etching his features. He leaned forward slightly, his focus entirely on Daeun. She didn’t look away, her gaze locked with his even as the voice on the phone kept talking.

The man sighed. “I feel like I should’ve reached out sooner. I just… I’m sorry about how everything happened. We should’ve been more careful.” Then, after a pause, the voice added tentatively, “Does he know?”

Daeun stiffened, her lips parting but no words coming out. She and Jeno stayed locked in their silent standoff until finally, with her voice barely audible, she said, “No. He doesn’t know.”

With that, she ended the call abruptly, her hand shaking as she placed the phone back on the table.

The silence that followed was deafening. No one dared to speak. All eyes were on her and Jeno.

Finally, Jeno broke the silence, his voice low and harsh. “So? What was he talking about?”

Daeun’s hands curled into fists at her sides, but she refused to answer him.

“Daeun” Jeno pressed, his tone rising with frustration. “What the fuck was he talking about?”

She finally spoke, her jaw tight. “You don’t have the right to make that tone with me.” she snapped.

“The hell I don’t!” Jeno’s voice boomed as he stood again, abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Tell me what the fuck he meant!”

Her control broke. “I was pregnant!” she screamed, her voice echoing through the room. She stood as well, facing him with fire in her eyes.

The words hit like a physical blow, and Jeno froze, his face paling.

The room fell silent again, everyone too stunned to even breathe. Daeun and Jeno stared at each other, their gazes unrelenting and raw.

Jeno’s lips moved, but no sound came out at first. Finally, he whispered, his voice broken and tentative, “It wasn’t mine, was it?”

Daeun let out a bitter laugh, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “How could it have been yours, Jeno? It’s been months since the last time you touched me.”

Her words cut deep and Jeno flinched.

Then, with a deliberate pause, she glanced at Jaemin—just briefly, but enough for everyone to catch it—before turning her gaze back to Jeno. Her voice dropped to a deadly calm. “…And now I understand why.”

The implication of her words rippled through the room like an electric shock.

Daeun’s gaze lingered on Jeno for a moment longer before she let out a shaky breath and stormed away, walking past the table. She headed toward the bathroom, where Soyul was still crying, cuddled with Renjun.

Jeno stood rooted to the spot, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. His face was a mixture of shock, anger, and something deeper—regret, maybe, or guilt.

No one said a word. The weight of the revelation was too much to process.

Jeno finally let out a shaky breath and sat back down, his head in his hands. “What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath, though no one could tell if he was talking to himself or everyone else.

The heavy silence in the living room seemed impenetrable, each person trapped in their own thoughts after the night’s shocking revelations. Even the usual sounds of the house—Mark’s fridge humming, the faint ticking of a wall clock—felt muted under the suffocating weight of everything left unsaid.

Then, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Everyone jolted, startled by the noise, and looked around the room in confusion.

“Who the hell is that?” Jaemin muttered under his breath, still nursing the glass of wine he hadn’t taken a sip from.

Chinsun, still perched on the edge of the sofa where she’d been sitting with Chenle, let out a dry laugh. “I guess another one of Lee Donghyuck’s boyfriends has arrived!” she said, her tone cutting.

Haechan glared at her from his corner of the room, but before he could retort, Chinsun stood, brushing imaginary dust off her pants, and motioned toward the door. Chenle hesitated but eventually stood alongside her.

The rest of the group, including Renjun, Daeun, and Soyul, who had just returned from the bathroom, slowly began to gather near the door. The tension among them was palpable as they waited for Chinsun to open it.

When she finally did, the tall, broad figure of a strikingly handsome young man was revealed. His tailored coat and polished shoes screamed wealth, and his air of confidence seemed out of place in the disheveled chaos of Mark’s house.

The man smiled hesitantly, trying to break the ice. “Hi, I’m—”

But Chinsun interrupted him before he could finish. “You can come in and get Haechan,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “And then the both of you can get the fuck out of this house.”

The young man blinked, clearly caught off guard, his confused gaze shifting from Chinsun to the rest of the group. His eyes scanned the crowd, passing over each face until they landed on one that finally seemed to click.

“…Uh, I don’t even know who Haechan is” he said, his voice unsure but firm. His eyes locked onto his loved one, and his expression softened. “I’m here for Chenle.”

The room fell into a stunned silence.

The air, already heavy, seemed to grow impossibly thicker.

Chenle let out a long, weary sigh, stepping forward past his frozen friends to stand beside the man. He reached out and took his hand, intertwining their fingers, and turned to face the group. His gaze swept over their stunned expressions—some confused, some shocked.

“Yes” Chenle began calmly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “This is my boyfriend, Jisung. Or as some of you may know him… Jiul.”

The collective gasp that followed was almost theatrical in its intensity.

“Jiul?” Jeno blurted out, his tone somewhere between disbelief and accusation. “Why the hell did you tell us it was a girl?”

“And why didn’t you bring him to dinner?” Yunhee added, her voice tinged with genuine confusion.

Chenle huffed out a dry laugh, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jisung, who looked equally baffled by the situation.

“You want to know why?” Chenle began, his voice sharper now as his frustration bubbled to the surface. He gestured around the room with his free hand, his gaze unwavering. “Look at everything that’s happened tonight. Look at how all of you reacted to Haechan’s situation, to Renjun’s story. The petty fights, the accusations, the thinly veiled homophobia that’s been lurking under the surface all night. And you wonder why I didn’t bring Jisung here?”

No one spoke, though a few of them visibly shifted, uncomfortable under his words.

Chenle shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “I told you Jisung was a girl because I knew—I knew—that if I told the truth, you’d judge me. You’d judge him. You’d find some way to make this about your own insecurities instead of just letting us be happy.”

Jisung squeezed the boy’s hand gently, his expression softening, but Chenle wasn’t done.

“I didn’t want him to come tonight, and now I’m glad I didn’t bring him to dinner,” Chenle continued. “Because this,” he gestured at the group again, “this mess? It would’ve ruined him. He’s too pure for this—too pure for all of you.”

He turned his gaze pointedly to Jeno and then to Jaemin. “You two can’t even have a functional friendship without dragging your relationship baggage into it.”

Then he turned to Haechan. “You spend so much time lying to yourself and everyone else that you’ve started destroying the people who care about you most. You have no right to judge anyone else when you’ve been tearing your own life apart from the inside.”

Finally, his gaze landed on the entire group, sweeping across them like a storm. “And the rest of you? You sit here and watch, like you’re better than everyone else, when the truth is you’re just as broken and hypocritical. You still have all this deep-seated homophobia inside of you—whether you realize it or not. You can’t even handle a little honesty without blowing up. And that’s on you. That’s something you all need to fix in yourselves instead of pointing fingers at everyone else.”

The room fell silent again, Chenle’s words hanging heavy in the air.

Jisung finally spoke up, his voice hesitant but kind. “Uh… Should we go? I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

Chenle glanced at him, his expression softening for the first time since he started talking. “Yes” he said quietly. “I think it’s time to go home”

Chenle gave one last glance at the group, his eyes hard but filled with disappointment. “Good night, everyone,” he said flatly, his hand still clasped firmly in Jisung’s. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the others staring at the space they had occupied moments before.

Renjun was the first to move. His gaze flickered to the others—no goodbye, no explanation—just a glance that spoke of finality. Without a word, he walked over to Daeun, who had been standing near the kitchen island, her expression unreadable. “Come on,” he said softly, and she nodded, letting him guide her out of the house.

Soyul followed soon after, her tear-streaked face pale and exhausted. Chinsun, who had been silently leaning against the wall, pushed herself off with a small sigh. She grabbed her coat and bag and walked toward the door without sparing anyone a second glance.

They didn’t say goodbye. The door opened, and they left.

Jaemin and Jeno stood awkwardly near the door, their expressions as cold as the night air that began to seep through the cracks. Jeno looked at Jaemin, his eyes conflicted, before sighing heavily and grabbing his coat from the back of a chair. Jaemin followed suit, his movements slower, as if weighed down by unspoken words.

As they reached the door, Jaemin hesitated, looking back at Yunhee. His lips twitched into a faint smile—one of acknowledgment, regret, and resignation all rolled into one. He nodded at her slightly before stepping out after Jeno, letting the door fall shut behind them.

Now, only Mark, Yunhee, and Haechan remained.

The living room felt cavernous, like a hollow shell of the home it had been only hours earlier. The three of them stood frozen, avoiding each other’s gazes.

Haechan sighed deeply and moved toward the coat rack. He pulled on his jacket, his movements uncharacteristically slow. He lingered for a moment, standing by the door, his hand resting on the handle.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mark and Yunhee exchanged a glance, but neither of them responded. There were no words left, nothing that could smooth over the damage that had been done tonight.

Haechan didn’t wait for a reply. He opened the door and stepped out into the cold, letting the door close behind him with a soft click.

One by one, as they exited the house, the lunar eclipse began to fade. The moon, which had been cloaked in shadow, slowly emerged into the light once more. Its silver glow illuminated the quiet streets outside, casting long shadows as if trying to cleanse the darkness that had enveloped the night.

Mark stood by the window, watching as the obscurity faded and the world outside returned to normal. The celestial phenomenon, which had felt so significant just hours earlier, now seemed like nothing more than a fleeting event—a brief moment of darkness before the light inevitably returned.

Underneath the glow of the moonlight, Chenle and Jisung waited near their car. They lingered by the curb, their faces relaxed, but their conversation was light and casual.

Daeun and Soyul exited the house shortly after, joined by Renjun and Chinsun. They strolled down the steps, their chatter warm and friendly. Daeun raised an eyebrow at Jisung, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “So, who’s this handsome guy, huh?” he asked.

Chinsun followed up, her curiosity piqued. “Where have you been hiding him, Chenle?”

Chenle stole a quick glance at Jisung before responding smoothly “Oh, we’re just really close friends. Same department and all that. You know how it is.”

The others nodded, the explanation seemingly enough, and the group shifted into easy conversation. Laughter bubbled up as Jaemin and Jeno joined them, their arms casually draped over their girlfriends. Jeno playfully nudged Chenle with a grin. “Something’s fishy. Is there something going on between you two? Chenle, are you hiding something?”

“Me?” Chenle asked, feigning mock indignation as he stole another glance at Jisung. “Never.”

Everyone laughed, the tension of the evening evaporating into the cool night air. When Haechan finally emerged from the house, Chinsun turned to him with a radiant smile, her hand waving him over. “Come on, baby! We’re all waiting for you!”

Haechan jogged down the steps, his face lighting up as he reached her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “What’d I miss?” he asked, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Nothing important” she replied with a grin.

Chenle jingled his car keys. “Alright, I guess this is where we part ways. See you all next time?”

A chorus of agreements followed, and the group exchanged playful goodbyes.

Haechan stopped in his tracks, turning to call out, “Jaemin! Don’t forget about the basketball game next weekend. We’ve got space if you can keep up.”

Jaemin smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Keep up? I’m ready to destroy you.”

“I’d like to see you try” Haechan shot back with a grin, before returning to Chinsun’s side.

The group dispersed, heading to their cars or walking down the street under the soft glow of the moonlight, as though nothing had shifted in the delicate balance of their friendships.

Back at the house, Mark and Yunhee were finishing up. The table was cleared, the wine glasses washed and left to dry. Mark wiped his hands on a towel as Yunhee sat on the edge of the bed, taking off her jewels.

“Long night” she said, her voice light.

Mark nodded, leaning against the doorway of their bedroom. “Yeah. You know, I’m glad we didn’t play that game tonight” he said, his tone measured.

Yunhee glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “Why? What’s so bad about a silly game?”

Mark sighed, crossing his arms. “Sometimes it’s better not to know everything. People have their secrets, and maybe they need to stay secrets. Not because they’re trying to hurt anyone, but because knowing them wouldn’t help anything. It would just… ruin things.”

Yunhee considered this for a moment, nodding slowly. “I guess you’re right. But honestly, I don’t even have anything to hide” she said with a small smile as she placed her earrings on the nightstand, right next to her phone.

Mark’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Those earrings are beautiful, by the way” he said softly.

Yunhee chuckled, sliding under the covers. “Thanks, they’re my favorite.”

Mark reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he murmured as the room plunged into darkness.

Outside, the moon shone brightly, its light spilling into the quiet streets below. The obscurity had passed, but its lingering shadows remained, woven subtly into the hearts of those who had gathered that night. Though the light had returned, it seemed that not everything could go back to normal. And yet, life went on, as it always does, under the moon’s watchful gaze.

[actualclownfucker]

i really like the idea of bcsr being suuuuuper pro-muggle. so like, barty would be raised with a muggle and wizarding education (he is a math nerd and you cannot, will not convince me otherwise LOL) and bcsr always had muggle technology, muggle and wizarding books and literature around the house

so bcj read call of cthulhu and said “i am gonna get me some of THAT” he goes to hogwarts and sees the giant squid and he fckin cums

(sometimes i wonder why regulus tolerates him, it’s def for the dick tho)

and yes, i believe voldemort was hot during the first war, at first. it wasn’t until he had all his horcruxes that he started to look “waxy”

but i mean, i am basing it off the opinion of harry and by god. he sees any dark haired man at all and he just goes “smash.” big reason why he didn’t like bcj (apart from his wormface), he’s a blond!

ohhhh, i have a lot of thoughts about bcj humanizing voldemort, actually. i know it would be easy to jump to the conclusion that voldemort didn’t like it, but i actually think he did

(i’d even say he let bcj call him “tom” when they were alone, if bcj could say anything other than daddy”)

i feel like, in a way, voldemort is a lot more human than some people give him credit for

yes, he’s cold and heartless and tried to get rid of his past. but at the same time, he’s sort of… not that cold

he likes jokes, he gets angry, he laughs, he resents his family and has his own surplus amount of daddy issues and all of this makes it easy for me to see the human in him

and i think bcj looking at him, talking to him, like yes he’s he’s the greatest dark wizard of all time and bcj worships him, but he can still just talk to him like a person, would be something voldemort actually loves. he doesn’t need bcj to be scared of him, there’s no point in that

the way to get bcj under his thumb is, oddly enough, with kindness and appreciation of his intellect, which voldemort would be happy to do. he would be thrilled to have intelligent conversation with bcj

it’s that exact right amount of worship and still being able to talk to him that voldemort would make bcj tolerable

barty has always wanted to be someone’s favorite. being voldemort’s bitch, the only one with that title, being preferred over everyone (except maybe snape, wtf voldy, that was stupid) it’s his way of being special

him finding out about what voldemort’s told harry in the graveyard scene could go one of two ways IMO, he was either devastated that someone else mattered to voldemort as much as him, had convinced himself to be delusional enough to believe he’s the only one that mattered

OR because he’s gotten to know voldemort so well, it doesn’t come as a surprise to him at all about harry. he knows how valuable and connected he and voldemort are, it’s okay. because voldemort still needs him too. he wouldn’t kill him like he’s going to kill harry anyways~!

LOL! voldemort would’ve gotten such a kick out of humiliating bcj and i think bcj hates being embarrassed. which is unfortunate being as his entire personality is nothing but embarrassing. when he’s embarrassed, he cries (as usual) and then he’s even more embarrassed for crying about it

(people don’t like when i say this, but if they’re going to characterize the marauders as these “pranksters,” he would’ve made an easy target for them and they’d have laughed at him and all the others in that friend group (pandora, evan, just not regulus because yk, they ignore his presence entirely). i’m not anti-marauders btw obviously, i love them and don’t think they’re much of “pranksters” as much as they are just kids who like to joke around, them planning out these elaborate pranks and stuff, i don’t think that has any basis in canon? correct me if i’m wrong tho)

anyways! yes, bcsr is oddly happy to talk down to barty as well. i can especially see him doing this to sirius when bcj is around or mentioned (i think most of the time, he goes out of his way to pretend barty doesn’t exist). however, i believe bcsr also brags about barty’s intelligence. the reason we know bcj got twelve owls is because when bcsr was outside hogwarts grounds, trying to get to dumbledore, he seems to be convinced that he’s talking to someone in the past saying, “oh, yes, barty got twelve owls and we’re very proud” gives me the impression of a man who doesn’t want people to know what goes on behind closed doors

“my shirt got wet” aww, my baby. someone hit him, quick! not only is it raining but you were already sobbing before that, the shirt was already wet with your fucking tears, idiot!

every few minutes or so, someone has to look at him and be like, “oh my GOD. what is it NOW?!”

post azzie, i think he’s more cold tho. it kinda chills out once he gets daddymort’s attention, but sirius tells us bcj spent his first few days in azkaban screaming for his mother (this is why i think him making a scene in the courtroom wasn’t an act, because what’s the point of keeping up the act for the dementors and other prisoners?) and then he went completely silent. and i don’t think he was ever the same after that

honestly, in a way, sirius has good reason for not wanting to open up to anyone - even james. deep down, he knows what bcsr does to him is wrong, but on the surface level, he won’t admit it. and he knows james is going to say all the things that he knows deep down to tell him that bcsr is wrong and the idea of him actually starting to admit to himself is terrifying so he lashes out. it’s all he knows.

it hurts james, james takes it to his parents and i wonder if sirius would almost even see that as a breach of their trust? like, “well that’s the last time i tell you anything, james” if he’s just going to tell other people. even if those people are his parents. sirius being uncomfortable with the potters and feeling like a burden there is such an important thing to me. he doesn’t want to make his problems, their problems, he wants to stay out of their way and not cause them any issues or make them regret taking him in

ouch, you’re so right. attacking bcsr = attacking sirius, calling him stupid and it’s trying to make decisions for him. he’s perfectly capable of deciding things for himself, he’s perfectly capable of being on control of himself and he doesn’t NOT need james to control him and tell him what to do.

needing people is terrifying for him, but i think the least terrifying one for him to need is bcsr. because, in sirius’s head, bcsr will tell him when he’s wrong and he’ll correct his behaviors. james, the potters, they’re too nice about it, that’s not what he needs. he feels so much more validated by bcsr and i definitely do think he could misread the potter’s concern as pity

but then, bcsr insulting james back to him, sirius feels like he’s in the crossfire of people who are supposed to care about him, but suddenly, it seems like no one does and he feels more alone than ever

but sirius feeling guilty is exactly what bcsr wanted. i like the idea of it ending abruptly too, like bcsr sends sirius a letter saying he’s disappointed in him and expected sirius to do better, maybe even tells sirius how much he’s missed him lately, sirius writes back and bcsr just doesn’t respond. sirius should’ve made more of an effort with him

i think bcsr definitely took sirius to some educational things. museums, exhibits and (idk about timeline or if there was anything like this: but i think parents taking their smart kids to watch a rocket launch is fun) things like this, to both teach sirius about art and history, but also to hear what sirius thinks of it, because even as a child he was very, very bright. not unlike his own son, who would’ve been desperate to learn from his father and desperately begged to ask his dad if he’d take him to an exhibit nearby one day, bcsr said “no, i’m busy, stay at home with your mother”

wouldn’t even allow mrs crouch to take bcj, because he didn’t earn it. so mrs crouch stays at home with bcj to look at books on whatever it was about. bcsr shows up early from work, bcj thinks maybe he changed his mind and is going to take him after all?! haha, you thought, kid.

sirius honestly probably looks at bcj and just thinks, well, he can go another time. who cares anyways?? i love a chill sirius

mrs crouch and her husband scream at each other that night (which also makes bcj cry, what doesn’t tho?)

i think bcj is similar at school to sirius how he is at home, just more calm. he doesn’t follow him around, and bcj is a few years under him, but whenever they’re in the great hall or the library together, sirius can feel barty’s eyes on him. can feel himself being stared at and he knows exactly who it is.

bcj might take to trying to trip sirius in halls and other things like this, but sirius just evades it and looks at him like “ok dude. you tried again. you done yet?”

the crouches making the blacks seem normal is WILD. but yeah, like, walburga would never grab sirius by the hair and repeatedly smash his face into the table. honestly, bcj probably only shuts up because he passes out or gets a concussion LOL

i think walburga isn’t against physical punishment at all, but maybe she wouldn’t do it the “muggle” way, you feel me? i could see her not wanting to scar him too, because she wouldn’t want a tainted heir (bruising however? she’s just fine with that). i think it happens mostly too because she and sirius get into fights and she gets so frustrated with him that she casts a spell without even thinking about it. and well, it works. she wins and he shuts up (you can’t tell me mrs black likes to lose) and there’s no guilt in her at all about it. she doesn’t apologize, which is why bcsr saying “i’m sorry for hitting you sirius” is so okay to him. plus, what’s being hit versus being crucio’d?

bcj said mama/mommy and daddy until he took the dark mark. so at least until he was 16, maybe even a little after that. but then he got pompous and switched to “mother” and “father” maybe still mama sometimes when he was alone with her tho (let me have this)

love!! sirius getting triggered by bcsr telling mrs crouch not heal bcj because walburga does the same thing? how bad are we talking? like he has a panic attack bad? because mmmm bcsr seeing sirius having a panic attack is a delicious thought

and another thought i’ve always liked, i don’t know what this does to bcj’s pureblood status, but squib mrs crouch is such an interesting concept to me. she can still give bcj potions to heal him, but can’t perform any healing spells. can’t pull her son out of spells bcsr puts him under, cant help him and even more so can’t stop bcsr

oh, no. bcsr hates bcj trying to emulate sirius. which doesn’t make sense, because doesn’t bcsr always say “be more like sirius” to him??? he’s trying! he wants to be him, be in his skin, have his dick in sirius’s ass too! what he really hates is the way bcj is going about it. wearing his clothes, taking on his hobbies, maybe even his speech pattern, rather than being quiet and obedient (and pretty) like sirius is

ooooooo!!! i really like him doing that and pretending he is sirius to cry out for daddy instead. because his obsession with sirius does stem from jealousy, i think that makes perfect sense

and tbh, sirius probably does smell good, so who can even blame bcj?

do you think sirius would stop coming over if bcj drugged and raped him?? i don’t think he’d tell bcsr that it happened, because he doesn’t necessarily want to get bcj in trouble, even after he did something so horrible

but bcj would love sirius having a love potion omg! having sirius fawn over him like that would be everything to him

and this would be easily noticeable to bcsr, obviously, because sirius isn’t being himself and the obvious person to blame is bcj. he demands winky to tell him if she knows anything, she does and admits to doing it, winky gets beat, winky doesn’t follow bcj’s orders anymore. sirius just further slips in as his son to replace bcj

harry and sirius are really similar for that, actually, yeah!!

i think it’s so hard for sirius to come to terms with bcsr being awful, so not only does he justify the abuse being done to him, but he tries to justify the way bcsr treats bcj too. i would say mrs crouch as well, but i believe whenever bcj isn’t the topic of conversation and nothing is going on with him, they’re alright. bcsr still does romantic things for her, still tells her he loves her at night, even feels bad when they fight (tho does not change his behavior or feel bad for bcj, just feels bad later that he made his wife upset) and wants to take her on romantic evenings. which she accepts because fuck. at least it’s giving bcj a night away from him and then they end up having a wonderful time because bcj doesn’t come up

do you think lily would tell sirius he’s not “broken” or would she be more the type to say, “we’re both broken” in more of a solidarity type of thing??? because she believes she is too??

“he went to stay with a friend” meanwhile sirius knows bcj’s only actual friend is regulus and he’s pretty sure bcj isn’t at their house.

but yeah, we know bcsr isn’t above using the imperius curse on his son and i think it makes sense to lean into him doing things like that a little more. anytime mrs crouch is away, bcj is nothing more than a shell of a person.

when sirius is over, he’s locked in his bedroom with protections to make sure he can’t get out or make a sound, under the imperius, or just stunned. i think stunning is the best option, because i’m amazed bcsr could keep bcj under the imperius curse as long as he did in GoF and still do his job, you know? like, i have to think that made it a bit easier for bcj to break out of it (not that seeing his master wouldn’t have done it regardless, bc the hard-on in his pants seeing daddymort again would break any spell) and bcsr would want to be focused on sirius the entire time when he’s over, so stunning seems like the perfect option.

what this does to bcj tho is mean that his mind is still running, he still sees everything, all of his screaming and crying is kept entirely in his head, all the energy in his body is overwhelming and he probably feels like he’s choking the entire time, but not even winky notices that when he visits him. because he’s just sitting there in a chair, stunned

sirius would be so genuinely confused why bcj would do that, when sirius literally just got him off the hook and now, bcj about to get punished anyways (bcsr tells sirius to leave the room as he takes off his belt, bcj knows daddy isn’t about to fuck him, but he’s hopeful. no, instead he gets whacked with the belt. and those bitches hurt)

(why go for the best friend’s brother trope when regulus can just have his brother instead, right???) i love blackcest best when regulus is the seductor. when he maybe even manipulates sirius into it a bit. i feel like it’s too easy to have sirius be the creepy “older” brother that wants to fuck his sibling. plus, i think regulus would. he’s got no concept or ideas of boundaries and he doesn’t care to

my favorite thing in blackcest (whoops outing myself here) is regulus not knowing how to get off and asking sirius for help. and sirius is like “??? bro what…. uh, okay, here’s what you do” and gives him instructions not expecting regulus to just start doing it right in sirius’s bedroom, right in front of him???? regulus complains that it’s not working and asks sirius to show him and even tho sirius knows better… he does

ooo, that’s a good point!! sirius is perfectly content to just say “barty” when he and bcj are sleeping together and bcj is fucking him. and bcj likes it too, bc he can convince himself that sirius is saying it for him

(and again, by the end of it, bcj is chanting “i love you, i love you, i love you” which is what makes sirius cum bc the idea of bcsr fucking him and saying ily?? beautiful!!)

and honestly when bcj does want to get railed, he probably just goes to some shady place with a sign that says “i’m underage, please rape me”

i really just can’t help thinking about how much bcsr being attracted to sirius and sirius literally just looking for parental figure would fuck him up for life. he could so easily start believing that sex and his looks are all anyone wants from him? he knows that the potters don’t seem like some kind of freak family that would do that to him, there’s no way james would talk about them the way he does if so, right? but fleamont asks to talk to sirius alone in his office one day and sirius just Knows™️ that, that’s it. that they’re all the same and he’s never going to have anyone to love him if he doesn’t put out

and it would make sirius feel so sick everytime he lets bcsr touch him, everytime he hears bcsr whispering in his ear how good he’s being and he catches barty’s eyes from the crack in the door, where he’s just watching silently. bcj definitely wants to go inside, scream at them and demand his father fuck him instead, but he’s too entranced by actually seeing his dad that way to do it. (and he’s gotta have fodder to touch himself to later, right?)

ohhh, what does bcj think of to conjure a patronus?? he just has so many happy memories, there’s so much to choose from! after the dark mark, it’s definitely that, but before that, boy!! he’ll just think of something happy and different each time (of course, every single memory includes himself in pain)

i do think regulus would despise being called any name in bed other than his own, because he wants to be important and powerful in some regard, wants to be remembered as himself, he would not tolerate that. but bcj would be like “ok do u wanna call me sirius then?” and that might be okay with regulus

bcsr watching sirius grow into himself and deciding their relationship has to go from parental to sexual is so, so sad for sirius, he trusted bcsr so much.

yep!! and this reminds me… sirius’s replacement is obviously percy, who is PERFECT. for bcsr

i think sirius would love learning history and languages from mr crouch too, bc i mean!! that’s so many!! very much gives me pushes-his-son-to-achieve academic excellence as well, overachieving and not settling for anything below perfection

omg yes!!! bcsr giving sirius muggle things is so perfect. he doesn’t know anything much about motorcycles, but he went out of his way to find that for sirius, knowing sirius would be interested???? fuuuuuuckkkk.

also,,, MRS CROUCH, WHAT IS HAPPENING IN YOUR HOME?! THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!!! i don’t even think she knows half of it!!!

do you mean barty crouch sr by bcsr??? because omg plz tell me what you think about sirius’s relationship w him, i find the crouches so interesting, i would love to hear about that

YESS i LOVE you !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i dont actually know how much of what i imagine for them can be fit into canon/is canon but like sglkfd.

so barty jr and sirius probably met during their childhood i think, bcjr was intelligent and well mannered and a respectable kid in sirius' age range, and ofc there's the hc that he was close friends w regulus, too. i hc he was pretty distant w bcjr himself but i just knoww sirius 'daddy issues' black needed everyone's parents' approval. orion was a negligent asshole sawr i think its a pretty valid course of action yk

and ofc bcsr loved him !! he was intelligent, he was quick, he was charming, well mannered, all the shit he wishes his bastard of a son was. and barty sr is a bit manipulative too yk he would definitely try to steal sirius away from his family and friends because he knows what sirius needs.

and like !! bcsr. he knows his son is death eater, he does use sirius as a replacement. he doesnt hide it, either, which he thinks justifies using a very obviously traumatized young boy to forget about the guilt in his heart about abusing, traumatizing and neglecting his own son. that being said, he gives sirius the watered down version of abuse his parents do - which sirius has grown comfortable enough with. that being said, the main reason sirius ran away isnt there: he's not a supporter of voldemort. he's actively fighting against him. (also hehe i hc walburga as bipolar so sirius is just happy he doesnt have a timebomb in the house 24/7) (or at least the timebomb doesnt explode around him !!). bcsr still mentions who sirius should associate himself with, still is disappointed when he doesnt get a good grade (an E instead of an O), he yells at sirius, maybe he raises a hand at him too - but at the end of the day sirius finds him justified because he's the one who took sirius under his wing, and is helping him, and is nice to him, and this is really what parents do to their children, right?

here is also when the post comes in btw: bcsr feels entitled to sirius' life, his idea of a parent/child relationship is ownership, and unfortunately that's sirius' view of it too, but bcsr is a lot calmer and quieter than walburga, he cares more than orion - to sirius its really the best of both worlds. bcsr wants sirius to go in politics which sirius does not want because he already has whatever career he's chosen for himself, and bcsr feels it necessary that sirius follow his - his own son wont.

bcsr does need sirius, he confides in him, he loves him (in his own fucked up way). sirius moves on, he runs away and gets farther and farther away from everything that reminds him of Before and feels resentment that bcsr (a man who he's considered his strongest father figure for years) doesn't even reach out to him once. bcsr feels that its a child's responsibility to reach out every time - he feels betrayed that sirius didn't runaway to him, that he didnt even know sirius had runaway till someone told him in passing. the letters they exchanged come to an abrupt end and it just feels like everything ended in the middle of it yk. barty crouch sr doesnt see sirius till sirius is arrested, soon after his own bio son is x

(also, yes sirius does still have the potters, but the potters are a completely different world to him. he's not used to that kind of completely unconditional love, he's not used to seeing how they shower their heir son in love. its a little bittersweet, it feels like a fantasy, sirius feels like he's intruding, he fills resentment to james for being raised with parents who love him and ofc he doesnt want that so he finds solace elsewhere. he thinks the potters are angels on earth, his relationship with bcsr is what the normal parent/child relationship. if walburga and orion are a 10 on the scale of what sirius considers to be 'bad parents', euphemia and fleamont are in the negative. bcsr falls somewhere in the middle, like a 2 or 3 to sirius. to bcjr, sirius can recognize, that bcsr is horrible. he yells, may hit, he's permanently disappointed when they do interact. they barely ever do - bcsr is always busy, he makes special time for sirius (which makes sirius giddy bc wowzers am i that important?) which cuts out even more time from bcsr and bcjr to interact. also, bcsr calls sirius son and he doesnt call bcjr son. sirius is lowk a homewrecker i love him.).

[waywardstation]

Look for anything (or anyone) that could be familiar

For part two:

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[macksartblock]

One of my favourite bits from this ep was when Freddie mixed up gen Z/alpha lingo and immediately got called out on it. Then his defence was gen Z’s trying to adapt to new slang because they’ve realized they’re not cool anymore.

Freddie what are you talking about

[bipolar-sad-and-ready-to-cry]

Told you I’d colour it, he wants a hug

[blissfullyecho]

I know you're not a therapist but insight on what I'm dealing with would be awesome coming from you. A huge part of the reason I feel like I've failed myself is failing on forgiveness. How do I forgive myself or others to move forward freely? :/

Why I Don’t Believe in Forgiveness

Lol, I’m for sure going to get some unfollows from the psych-analysts of tumblr, but I don’t believe in forgiving other people… at least not in the way we’re taught to forgive.

We’re taught to forgive by accepting them, realizing it’s “their first time living”, that we all make mistakes, that people sometimes act out in a dark place, blah blah. We’re taught we shouldn’t hold on to that energy or that powerless feeling we get from feeling defeated by what someone did to us. We’re taught to break free from it.

Here’s my thing: if someone did me dirty to the point where my life was actually affected, I’m not forgiving them at all. I’m not going to “break free” and I’m not going to accept a grown adult for who they are. I’m a human being— I have emotions. If I feel a certain type of way because of someone else, I have every right to feel that way. But I take it a step further. I use alllllllll the hurt I feel as a way to get better myself. You’ll never have access to me, I’ll always be better than you, and I’m taking every ounce of hurt and disgust I have in me of you, and I’m becoming everything you wish to be or you wish to have.

It’s not being bitter. Because the people that are telling you to be forgiving towards others are people no one respects. You think I’m going to get dog-walked by someone again who hurt me? Absolutely not. The ONLY exception to this is Jesus and none of us are Jesus.

I’ll forgive someone who maybe made a stupid comment in the past that hurt my feelings, or someone who cut me off when I was driving. But those super deep and dark skeletons in the closet that I have because someone literally ruined me will NOT be forgiven.

My attitude is: my enemy (yeah, they’re my enemies) will never see me drop my guard. I’m not gonna forgive you, but I’m not going to think about you either or give you any time or attention. I’m the one to dog-walk YOU now. You’re still going to be the same weirdo and I’m getting better everyday. Be mad.

As far as forgiving yourself— you need to talk to yourself everyday. You did something stupid? Okay. Did the world end? Did you learn for next time? Like keep it moving. You’re not perfect so acknowledge what you did and keep it moving. Don’t dwell. Reflect, cry a little, feel the embarrassment, and get over it.

🖤🍸Make sure to check out my book called The Luxe Girl’s Playbook to Life for a fresh perspective on reinventing yourself for 2025. You’ll receive immediate access after purchase.

[theloveinc]

men piss me off so bad