#OC: Pearl Stone

[buttercool-crystal]

My new super hero OC's

Bonus:

Cool ocs and COOL comic.

But, believe it or not: I have some ocs that have the names of gemstones too. Here's proof:

RAGEDSCAPS stands for: Ruby, Amber, Gold, Emerald, Diamond, Sapphire, Crystal, Amethyst, Pearl and Stone (I'm the purple one in the middle). And, all and I mean ALL the characters on this image here👆 are ALL females.

Obviously, the colored letters are the letters corresponding to the character's color so they are easy to find their name out.

It's kind of an object show comic series that I've made 2 years ago. I'll show you guys a comic strip I made recently-

Pretty cool right?

It was supposed to be a reference to this very YouTube vid:

The lightning bolt is my friend that helped me make this series. The character's name is...well, Lightning! I won't expose his real name, though.

There's 1 more, Dirt. He's my brother in this series but I couldn't add him in. People say his design is cool.

Did I mention that the digital pic of the gems was my whole FAMILY in my comic series? Yup! We are decuplets (yes, it's a real word. I googled it) Anyway, decuplets mean twins but ten. I made us decuplets because I created all these characters in the same HOUR. So, that's how it ended up: all ten being decuplets + Dirt, younger bro (only male in the family).

Thanks for reading if you got this far! :)

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 14 - Doing All Right

Summary: that’s a part of the nda you wanted.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: tadaaa, we got to the aftermath™. this one rly depends on your pov - schrödinger’s tryskomys chapter, if you will. it might be fluffy, might be angsty, might be bittersweet - or maybe a plethora of all of these. you’ll only find out once you come inside - unlike stone, because he values safe sex. okay, that one was a bit uncalled for, i’ll stop now.

tws: i mean, i don’t think there are any today. maybe fresh injuries. and talking about sex, but we’re all human beings here - when are we *not* talking about it?

oh, and some easter eggs pointing to the fact that stone is a convicted freak. to those who have seen the infamous shoe incident and the lollapalooza spanking: yeah, i can’t believe that footage exists, either. and to those who haven’t: do not look it up, please. or do, i don’t know, i’m not your mom. but if i was, i’d tell you not to look it up. you might learn something earth-shattering about yourself.

song:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

When Keeva woke up, she immediately felt like she’d just stuck her head into a running washing machine. The sunlight that peeked through the window was way too bright for April - but maybe her brain was just making it appear like a summer blaze to spite her.

Or it could’ve been the stitches in her forehead.

Yeah, that’s probably it.

When Keeva shuffled with an uncomfortable groan, the bed loudly creaked under her - much more than her own back home. Then she realized that she was, in fact, not in her bed.

She blinked a few times and looked around the lousy room to make sure that she didn’t dream this place up. But it was real.

The same ragged armchair, the same ugly carpet, the same mattress that was about as comfortable as sleeping on a slab of concrete.

Although, it was a bit lighter than when Keeva fell asleep. She knew why within a split second, but she still turned her head next to her as slowly and cautiously as she could, fearing that she would be right.

Empty.

Just one or two fallen-out brown hair on the pillow to reassure her that she did not dream him up, either. Keeva shivered when the bed sheets tickled her naked body - they weren’t even nearly as soft as his skin. She had to fight tears when the implication hit her.

He’s not here. He didn’t stay. He woke up and saw me and left.

She was trying very hard to stay determined. She wanted this. This was what she planned, wrecked her brain over it a million times and then willingly decided to do - and when the moment came, she initiated it.

So why does it hurt so bad?

Keeva’s whole body was on fire. She assumed that it would be even if she didn’t get beat up and didn’t spend six hours sitting on the dirty emergency room floor.

Somehow, though, the pain felt good. It made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before.

When she looked around the room again to check if Stone wasn’t hiding somewhere to jump out at her, her eyes fell on a little folded note propped up on the chipped bedside table.

It was just a simple piece of paper with the hotel logo in the corner, but it nearly made her heart jump out of her ribcage. She snatched it with wide eyes, immediately recognizing the handwriting.

Went downstairs for a blunt & coffee. That’s an invite, by the way.

- beanpole

The B and E in the signature had a strange shape, thicker than the other letters. It almost looked like it used to be an L and an O.

But then again, Keeva’s state of mind was so compromised that she had no idea what was real and what was wishful thinking.

A wave of yesterday’s memories washed over her as she rested her head on the pillow again and clutched the note to her chest.

She didn’t even try to fight the burning blush that flooded her cheeks when she rolled over and buried her face in the fabric.

She took a deep breath of the warm scent it still carried.

Let’s pretend like he’s still here. Just a few more minutes.

For some reason, the bathroom didn’t have a mirror, so she couldn’t even check how colourful the wounds on her face were. It hurt like hell, though, now that the brain fog was slowly dissolving.

Keeva’s first instinct was to hop into the tiny shower, but then she remembered that she already did.

They did.

“Wait, no! No tickling, stop it!”

“You’re naked, what else am I supposed to do? You’re waving a red blanket in front of my face and that blanket is your ass. Which is really nice, by the way. Really nice. What a shame that you - hold still or you’ll fall! - that you hide it under those fucking dungarees all the time.”

“Stop tickling me, Romeo, and keep your hands off my ass! Eeeek, back off!”

“It’s just staring right at me, I gotta put my energy somewhere. It’s tickling or spanking, choose your poison!”

“Don’t you dare, y- OW! Nooooo-OW! Stop it, Stoney! Fuck, stop - ow! Don’t sp- OW! Stop or I’ll spank your ass like it’s never been spanked before!”

“Tough shit, I might like it. Maybe I’m into some weird shit and you have no idea. I would lick the soles of your boots if you begged hard enough -”

“Fucking hell, eugh, you disgus-OW! No - more - spanking!”

“Alright, tickling it is then!”

They laughed. They laughed so hard they couldn’t breathe. They laughed so hard they had to sit down so they wouldn’t slip.

So why does this hurt so bad?

Stone’s duffle bag was gone - he must’ve already packed up and taken it with him. They only had a few hours to get to DC, so she tried to pack as quickly as she could.

She didn’t even have time to unpack in the first place, so she was ready in a few minutes.

Keeva would’ve loved to just sit in the holey armchair and stay locked in the room forever, but she had to go down at some point. So she picked out some clean laundry, threw it on and decided to brave through the inevitable.

Her clothes from yesterday were scattered all around the room.

Stone was as gentle, sweet and attentive of a lover as one could ever be. But she’d noticed that a couple of times throughout the night, he had a sudden burst of raw brashness that was a lot more in tune with his usual sly personality.

As if he was trying to hold himself back, cracked for a moment and then went back to being cool and reserved.

Undressing her like a starved animal and mindlessly throwing the clothes away in all directions was one of those façade cracks.

Even though she had no other comparison, she knew that Stone had already shown her the best time she could ever have, thanks to his head-spinning finesse - that no one would ever come close to him.

But she’d be lying to herself if she wasn’t interested in finding out what else he can do when he really lets himself go. In fact, just the simple thought of it made her legs turn into jello.

Too bad this is never gonna happen again. He couldn’t even look at you in the morning, that’s why he left.

He changed his mind and it took him just one night with you.

Keeva grabbed her t-shirt from yesterday and just stared at it for a few minutes, a sad frown twisting her face. It was the one Stone made for her, stained with blood all over - she doubted that it would ever be possible to wash off.

With a frustrated sigh, she threw it in a spare plastic bag and stuffed it into her big backpack, next to the panties and socks.

Lastly, she grabbed Stone’s note, put it in the chest pocket of her fleece argyle shirt and left the room without turning back.

There was a lone dirty mirror in the hallway - and she looked terrible.

Shit. This looks even more painful than it is.

The sliced forehead had a bruise along the stitches, as did Keeva’s cheek and her slightly torn lip. However, her dark circles somehow looked less deep today.

With a big sigh, she tried to put on a few varying types of smiles - none of them looked even mildly genuine, so she shook her head and gave her reflection a middle finger.

The crisp breeze felt like a punch to the face in contrast with the stale air of the hotel room. It tickled her wounds and that wasn’t very comfortable. There was a little coffee shop right next to the hotel, so Keeva guessed that he would be there.

She lightly slapped her cheeks a few times before walking in.

And there he was - wearing the bright yellow sweatshirt that she loved to borrow from him, his worn-out leather jacket on top and the jeans that were getting progressively more ripped every time he wore them.

The half ponytail was slowly becoming Stone’s signature hairstyle, now that his hair grew out into long brown waves. Lately, he started wearing it more and more often and she found it irresistibly smug and charming.

On top of it looking remarkably hot, he always made her day better with his bizarre choices of colours and textures of the ties. Today, he neatly secured it with the thin turquoise hair tie he stole from her.

He must’ve grabbed it from the bedside table on his way out of the room - just where he put it after he gently untied her curls loose to play with them in agonizingly slow caresses.

Keeva wondered if this was supposed to be some kind of a gesture - maybe a hint at her stupid joke from a year ago. She highly doubted that that was his train of thought because he had the memory of a goldfish. But she definitely remembered.

‘Thou shalt belongest to the wench whose scrunchie thou wearest on thy wrist.’

Stone was casually sipping on a cup of coffee as if he had no care in the world. Even the intimidatingly big purple bruise on his cheekbone looked less poignant thanks to the careless aura around him, as did the large scab on the bridge of his nose.

He looked up from his cup right when he heard the bell ring as she walked in. As soon as their eyes met, he broke into a small reserved smile.

Before Keeva could take another step towards him, though, she felt an arm around her shoulder that appeared out of nowhere. She’d never been so disappointed to see Greg. He had a coffee in his hand, face twisted in a worried frown.

“Morning, Keeks,” he said, affectionately tickling her cheek with his thumb. “How are you feeling?”

“Hey, princess,” she chuckled and softly pushed the back of his neck down while stepping on her tiptoes to see the big bump on the top of his head. “Been worse, how about you?”

Keeva deliberately ignored Stone’s cough.

“Been worse,” Greg shrugged and nodded towards Stone. “Turns out I should’ve been a boxer, unlike this scrawny sack of bones.”

She subconsciously followed Greg’s movement - Stone darted away before she could see his eyes, choosing to stare into the table instead.

For a second, he seemed a bit sheepish, but then he tucked a stray strand of hair back into his ponytail and got back to his cool attitude.

“What can I say. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

On any other day, that would’ve made Keeva giggle. Not at that moment, though. Greg, on the other hand, found it so amusing that he loudly laughed.

“Yeah, we can both clearly see that, baby boy.”

“What’s cracking, friends?” Andy cheeped when he walked in, rubbing his palms together as he turned to the girl behind the counter. “Morning, miss. Can I have a coffee on the road, please? Milkless.”

The waitress looked a bit worried - he was the third beaten-up person to walk into her coffee shop in a span of about thirty minutes. She was clearly an experienced Bronx resident, though, so she wordlessly nodded and poured him a small to-go cup without further questions.

Greg headed to sit next to Stone, which erased any hope of Keeva’s to talk to him alone.

Meanwhile, Andy slapped some coins on the counter and thanked the waitress before making his way to his short friend with a growing frown.

“Pooky?” he said as they both walked to the table side by side. He put the coffee down and took her head in his palms, turning her from left to right. “Pooks, let me take a look at you.”

“Why?” Keeva chuckled. Her eyes once again failed her and darted in Stone’s direction, who was staring at her too, clearly ignoring Greg’s rambling about the driving schedule.

He snapped away as soon as he’d noticed her, though.

“Hmm, you seem…different,” Andy mumbled, squinting when he inched a bit closer as if she had small letters written on her forehead and he was struggling to read them.

She raised an eyebrow and pushed down a dry swallow.

“Uh, I got punched in the face, Andy. That might be it,” she said, trying to sound resolute, but Andy frowned even deeper.

“No, no, no,” he vehemently shook his head. “Not look different. Seem different.”

This time she managed to keep her eyes on Andy, but she could see in her peripheral that Stone was the one to take a peek at them this time.

And with the way he shuffled in his seat and ran his hand through his hair, he was clearly uncomfortable at the notion of Andy suspecting anything.

“I - uh…again, I got punched in the face, sorry if I’m a bit cranky,” she forced herself to roll her eyes and put on a bothered face. Andy’s eyebrows knitted again and he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around.

“Hm. What are ya up to, greenie?” he questioned when Keeva did a 360. She cleared her throat to get rid of the strain in her voice and then tried to be nonchalant by leaning against the table.

She didn’t calculate her move very well, though, and put her hand too close to Stone - the tips of their pinkies touched and a small static shock snapped upon the impact.

She suspected it was because of her woollen sweater. It always caused her hair to stand up and crackle. But it might as well have been just the tempest that was surging through her thanks to feeling his skin again.

He was wearing his trusty fingerless gloves - he’d had them ever since they’d met. Probably long before her, too, considering all the clumps of wool and threads sticking out of them.

But his calloused skin was still cold as ice.

Stone’s arm twitched - she couldn’t tell if it was because of the sudden contact or the static, but he didn’t move away. Neither did she - she didn’t want to be any more obvious.

“Pft,” she tried to focus on Andy again. “Let’s see…I wanted to get coffee instead of tea for breakfast, could be that. You’ve arrived just in time for a historical event, sleepyhead.”

Andy hummed - he was clearly having none of it.

“You slept good?” he squinted at her and folded his arms.

Ever since Keeva woke up, she felt like she had no control over her body - her eyes quickly snapped to Stone once again. Thankfully, he was fixated on his coffee.

“I did,” she simply said and hoped that her blush wasn’t too bright.

“You did?!” Andy gasped and made Greg and Stone turn their heads.

“First time?” Greg cheerfully asked and put his arm around her waist, dragging her down to sit with them.

Keeva’s eyes popped open. Stone was just taking a sip from his cup when he snorted into the coffee, making it splash on his chin and far up his nose.

“Wh- no?!” she yelped as Stone wiped his mouth with a snicker. He clearly tried to play it off as laughing at her outraged tone, so she tried to follow his suit and quickly compose herself. “I mean, I guess. Probably, yeah. I think I haven’t slept this long since second grade.”

Stone’s smile grew even wider and he tilted his head down to hide it, the tips of his ponytail falling in front of his eyes like a curtain. His hair looked so wavy today - it drove her mad.

“Well, eureka!” Andy clapped and sat down, too. “New York is good for you. I’m very honoured to be a part of this monumental affair.”

“What monumental affair?” Jeff’s voice appeared at the door.

Keeva could properly see his black eye for the first time - it wasn’t too bad, though. He was built like a brick wall and clearly experienced in dodging punches. She figured that he probably had a couple of notches on his street fight belt, considering he grew up in the middle of nowhere.

“Pooky’s had a good night’s sleep,” Andy explained and rested his head on the windowsill behind him.

“No way!” Jeff gasped, breaking into a toothy grin as he rushed to their table. Keeva theatrically flipped her hair - a move that, for a reason unknown to her, made Stone raise his head again and shift in his seat.

“Yep! I swept in and asked if she slept well and she said: ‘I did.’” Andy said, deepening his voice while doing a bad parody of her accent.

Now she could finally examine everyone up close. All the guys looked like they got into a fight, except for Stone. He looked like there was no fight at all - more like someone just simply beat the absolute shit out of him.

When she was only half-conscious, he seemed to be doing pretty well. Thinking back, that was probably just her wishful thinking. He was surely brave enough that it tricked her, though.

Blood was literally streaming out of Stone’s nose and mouth, but he still found the energy to scream insults - some of which she barely knew existed - left and right.

Also, she could swear she saw him straight up headbutt someone in the face with full strength. That was probably the moment he broke his nose.

The fact that she found the scene so incredibly hot was a concept so shameful to her that she prayed it was just her mild concussion speaking - for both her sake and his.

“Bruce started the van, we should dip,” Jeff tore her out of her thoughts when he slapped the table. “If you’re all packed up, I’ll go and do the checkout - could you grab me a coffee to go, Keeks?”

Keeva managed to quickly shake off her lapse of attention and rested her chin on her palm with a dreamy sigh.

“Anything for the angel walking among us. We’re not worthy,” she pouted.

“Yeah, yeah, you can thank me on the way, smart-ass,” Jeff scoffed and ruffled her hair before jogging to the exit. “We gotta stop for fuel, too, so move your butts. Chop-chop.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“Ugh, I would kill for a Coke right now,” Keeva groaned when they parked next to the gas tank. She stuck her head out of the window and pointed at the gas station building a few feet away. “And I don’t wanna kill any of you, so I’ll be right back.”

Multiple orders of chips, candy and cans of whatever echoed through the van as she hopped out, along with Jeff’s ever-so-responsible: “You’ve got exactly five minutes, greenie, then we’re leaving without you!”

“At least you’d finally learn how to tune your own bass, babes!” she called after him and headed for the building.

She could hear Jeff’s mocking laugh over the crunching gravel under her feet, along with Stone’s still extra nasally voice when he got out of the van as well.

“I would kill for sour gummies. I’ll be right back.”

Keeva rolled her eyes as a jolt of nervous nausea stabbed her stomach.

Jesus, talk about subtle.

She heard Jeff’s muttered ‘now it’s only four minutes’ before his voice got lost in Stone’s slapping footsteps as he jogged up to her.

When he caught up, he immediately took her around the shoulders, nonchalant as always. This time, the crackling she felt discernably wasn’t from static clothing.

Keeva thought that maybe - after yesterday - all the time she wasted fantasizing about him would be erased and this intense heartburn she felt every time he touched her would finally stop.

But she had to curse her own naivité - it got much worse.

What was an even bigger gut punch, though - Stone didn’t seem to flinch at all. Careless as ever, he just affectionately squeezed her shoulder like he always did as they walked side by side.

She couldn’t decide if she was glad that he didn’t change his attitude towards her or if it hurt her ego so bad she wanted to cry.

“Morning,” he simply said - she heard a smile in his voice, but didn’t dare to look up at him. The tips of Stone’s long waves tickled her forehead, still carrying the irresistible scent he left behind on the pillow.

“Morning,” Keeva mumbled and took the opportunity to lean closer to him when she stumbled on one bigger piece of rubble - her legs felt wobbly in his presence, now more than ever.

“Slept well?” he asked and shook his hair out of his face, making the locks tickle her again. Stone’s tone was sly enough to sound like flirting.

Combined with his soapy cologne and the strawberry scent he always emanated, it made a small surge of confidence rush through her.

“Never better, actually,” Keeva smirked and raised her head - he was already looking down at her, breaking into an even bigger smile than he had before.

“Good girl,” Stone chuckled and scratched the crown of her head a few times.

He spoke the words in such a strikingly lighter tone than just a couple of hours ago, when he addressed her that way many times. They sounded so aloof now, so friendly - almost as if they were pronounced in a completely separate language.

Not to her, though. And she’d never believe that Stone had no idea that it would immediately send a buzzing shiver down her spine.

He had many faults, but stupidity wasn’t one of them.

“I’m glad,” he added.

“Glad?” Keeva scoffed, folding her arms. “You should, uh - you should be flattered instead.”

Stone might’ve been casual about it, but she could still feel some sense of excitement from him. Pride, even. She couldn’t discern if he was being cocky or genuinely thrilled, though.

“So you enjoyed yourself?” he asked, squeezing Keeva closer again.

“I did,” she shrugged, trying to emulate his coolness, but Stone’s joyful tone made her crack a wide smile.

“You did?!”

“Yeah!” Keeva nodded and the tense knot in her stomach slowly began to unwind. She nudged him with her elbow. “Did you?”

To her dismay, Stone paused. Just for a few seconds, though, as if he was trying to find the right words. He followed the silence with an even brighter smile that made up for it.

“It was amazing.”

Keeva couldn’t hold in a sigh. Stone seemed so bright and weightless that it hurt her senses, like staring into the sun for too long.

For one, she deduced that it wasn’t tormenting him as much as her and that had its own disappointing implications. And for two, she truly couldn’t fathom the possibility that he was telling the truth.

She had to hide her face before she reacted, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I’m sorry that I was so -” she started, but Stone immediately shook his head and interrupted her.

“No, believe me, you did so good. So good. Really.”

Stone sounded so genuine he almost had her convinced. And when she turned to him again, he looked genuine, too.

Fuck. His eyes are like a fancy sparkling kaleidoscope. All-green glitter. All shades twinkling at once.

Oh no, my head is spinning. Dammit.

Jesus, is this what being on acid feels like?

The overwhelming beauty made Keeva lose her ability to think before speaking, so she couldn’t stop herself from babbling. She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

“You know, uh, now I - I technically owe you for taking pity on me and therefore should repay you sometimes, so…”

To her surprise, Stone nodded without taking a second to think. That slightly fueled her ego - it seemed like there wasn’t much thinking involved in either of their heads.

“Sounds fair, count me in,” he said and she noticed a little giddy tremble in his voice.

Might be just the trashed nose - his voice is even more annoying now and everything he says sounds giddy and shaky. Or…

“Sounds fair, right?” she quickly retorted and squeezed her folded arms closer to her chest to stop them from shaking.

By now, she knew Stone was unmistakably happy. It was those cursed eyes of his. He reached out and poked her side with his finger.

“So we could, you know, repeat it?” Stone asked confidently, still keeping his aloof attitude. “If you’d be interested? Sometime?”

Once again, Keeva couldn’t stop herself from responding right away as the swarm of resting butterflies in her abdomen awakened and began to flutter around in circles.

“Very interested,” she said with a big smile, nodding. Stone mirrored her movement and hugged her closer.

“Great. Deal,” he chuckled and playfully ruffled her hair again as if he really wanted to drive the point home - she was still just his munchkin little shit of a roommate.

Thankfully, the conversation had to be cut there, because they reached the gas station. Meaning Keeva was naturally freed from the awkwardness that would definitely follow.

He opened the door for her, a never-fading smile still plastered on his face.

When they bought what they came for and paid for the gas, they headed back to the van and silence fell between them. And just as Keeva had expected, it was a long and incredibly awkward one.

Both of their arms were full of snacks and drinks, so Stone’s casual hug couldn’t save them this time. She side-eyed him discreetly enough so he wouldn’t notice - he was staring at his feet, studying the peeling suede leather on the tips of his Docs.

Shit. Why can’t I just read his fucking mind? Or maybe not.

Yeah, I think it’s better not to know.

Even after such a long pause, they both managed to take a breath at the same time to try and say something. They awkwardly chuckled in sync.

“Oh, you go on,” Keeva said, an uncomfortable burn settling in her cheeks. Stone shook his head, trying to whip away the few strands of his ponytail that got stuck in his mouth.

“No, you, come on,” he mumbled, waving his huge hand around.

She had to take a pause to formulate her thoughts, but there was no way to make her words sound any less dumb.

Keeva would stay silent if she didn’t know him as well as she did. But sometimes, like at this very moment, she could read his mind.

And she liked - loved Stone too much to throw the burden of having to say it out loud on him. The weight of that responsibility made her stutter even harder.

“Um, I mean - maybe let’s not, uh - let’s keep it as our little inside joke. Right? And not tell anyone. ‘Cause, you know, it’s not like we’re together or anything.”

Even though she knew how terribly hypocritical it was of her, she still couldn’t do anything but cry inside - the butterflies in her stomach stopped moving and aimlessly floated down, dead and slowly dissolving into bitter dust.

Because Stone didn’t even skip a beat with his answer.

“I love inside jokes,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Going back to the usual pattern, she couldn’t get a read on his real feelings at all. “I was about to say the same thing.”

Great.

“Great!”

“Jesus, can you imagine the outburst if they found out?” he continued with a scoff, popping his huge eyes open when he looked at her. “No way. That’s a part of the NDA you wanted.”

Now he was the one to spin into rambling.

“Plus it’s different than if we were, like, dating or something, right? Like, then I’d have no problem telling them, but we’re just having fun, aren’t we? And we can do that whenever, wherever and however we want because we’re fucking grown-ups and we’re authorized to make any decision without their dumb stupid comments, right? If we decide to fuck against a dusty vodka shelf in the corner of a room at a house party, we will fucking do it and we will take no shit from anyone. I mean, we trust each other enough to have a friendship that’s so strong that it can occasionally be sprinkled with amazing sex and it works fine because we’re both smart enough to fucking leave out stupid encumbering shit like ‘being in love’ or whatever. Basically, roundabout way of saying that our sex lives are none of their business.”

If Keeva didn’t know better, she’d think that he sounded like he was vehemently trying to convince himself, not her.

She didn’t need any convincing, though. She’d take anything that even slightly resembled his attention.

She could barely remember how her brain got to that point, but it was an insatiable feeling.

Pathetic.

As she watched Stone stumble his way through the incoherent explanation, he flapped his hands around to help himself formulate his thoughts. They were so comically big that he managed to hold four packs of chips in one of them and still wave left and right.

Even though Keeva was pretty sure that she would regret her decision sooner than later, it was once again his eyes that startled any common sense out of her.

They were still glowing - just like holding two peridot marbles to the flaming sun - and completely focused on her face.

As the butterflies slowly rose from the ashes in sync with his suspiciously oversaturated monologue, she felt a minuscule nagging feeling tingle at the back of her neck.

Something told her that he wasn’t being entirely honest - and in this single second in time, she couldn’t have wished for more if she tried.

“Right on.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[princess-pacman]

SU AU Stobotnik

Long post (probably ooc White Diamond and Robotnik)

I love making Steven Universe and Homestuck AUs of random characters, so here’s my Dr. Robotnik and Agent Stone as gems idea.

Robotnik is a one of a kind red emerald owned by White Diamond. He would have been shattered for being “off color” if not for the fact that his uniqueness makes him significantly smarter than all the other emeralds and White feels she can use this to her advantage. He’s White’s resident scientist/weapons engineer, and her sort of “pet/secret weapon” thing. He starts going by Bixbite to further separate himself from the other “rocks for brains” emeralds (yes, I know there’s a cannon Bixbite, but I found that out after I made this AU, so too bad, Robotnik’s the only Bixbite in existence in this AU). However, he’s incredibly difficult to interact with, so White usually has another gem relay messages for her. He often ends up poofing said messengers, though, out of irritation. This becomes a problem, so out of passive aggressiveness and trying to fix the problem, White makes him a Pearl specially suited to match his personality (so as not to be afraid to talk to him) and act as a barrier between Robotnik and every other gem. This Pearl is Agent Stone. At first, Robotnik is the happy with another plebeian gem in his lab, calling Pearl “nothing more than a common stone to him.” Eventually, he starts to grow on him, and the nickname “Stone” sticks. Stone, of course, in typical pearl fashion, starts to fall in love with his Bixbite.

I have more to their story, but it’s not all fleshed out, yet. Some random tidbits I have…

-Pearl’s weapons are handguns

-Bixbite hates working under White and wants to be his own boss

-They’re not for the revolution, but they’re not against it either. They couldn’t care less about some planet called “Earth” with other creatures on it. But at some point, Bixbite gets cracked and needs to be healed. Pearl hears about a rebel Rose Quarts with healing powers and escapes with his broken boss to Earth to heal him. They end up getting stuck on Earth as Homeworld fugitives.

-Bixbite enjoys making ships, but is envious of the fact that the other emeralds get to actually fly them, while he’s stuck on the ground. He secretly wishes to see the stars and often daydreams about space.

-They accidentally fuse very briefly while Bixbite is cracked, so he has no memory of this happening, but Pearl remembers. He never said anything to anyone (not even his boss) about it, but has been trying to recreate that moment ever since. When he finally does, their fusion isn’t very stable, breaking apart only moments later. Bixbite ends up having a distaste for fusion, feeling like he’s losing himself when he fuses.

-Bixbite does eventually return Pearl's romantic feelings, but they find other ways to show their love outside of fusion.

That’s all I have. If you guys like this AU, let me know! If you have questions, I’ll try to answer as best I can

[necesito-mas-cafe]

I found this awesome Au, and was given the blessing to do a (1) fanart, except I got a little excited and decided sleep is optional; so I made 3 pictures.

This is the first fanart I do for this fandom, and I'm fucking proud. Stone's in love and it's painfully obvious.

Anyway, I tried to draw robotnik's long coat, but I didn't succeed.

Post war (i guess), Pearl misses her diamond. Stone and Robotnick are being gay.

I imagine if he ever had to reform, Robotnick would remove the diamond pattern on his clothing.

I also gave Stone a rectangular neckline because Robotnick's gem is rectangular *wink wink*.

I'll not comment on this.

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@princess-pacman

Thanks for giving me the green light, and sorry if I went too far 🗿, I got a little excited.

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English is not my first language, sorry if it's confusing.

[bluu3berry]

steven universe gemsona!

i made gemsona's for me and my girlfriend! I did it off of are birthstones, mines march which is an aquamarine and my gf's is a diamond! So i made them red diamond mweheheh!

@anon-coke (my beloved gf U_U) More art + the story under the cut!

Story: Red diamond was the one who made the technology, but when red fell in love with an aqua she was casted to the shadows... the basement under homeworld, all alone only with the same aqua as a sort of assistant...

[starlitmothart]

Crown Jewels - Gemstone themed magical girls

This was the very first magical girl team I ever created, from many many years ago. Back then, it was before the pandemic, so their team name was "Corona" lol. I have since changed it. There's 12 main members, but this is the main team! They're fighting against an organization that wants to revive an ancient evil deity and gain immortality by draining the lives of others.

The Main Team

Crown Pearl, Lulu (center, white) - the leader, uses a staff

Crown Ruby, Robin (red) - uses a smashing board shield, Sophie's twin

Crown Sapphire, Sophie (blue) - uses a magic orb, Robin's twin

Crown Garnet, Avaka (pink, @lucensspem1414's OC) - uses a scythe, her family has an abnormally high amount of magical girls

Crown Amethyst, Amy (purple) - healer, but uses a sword as well

Crown Turquoise, Mani (turquoise) - uses a microphone/her voice

As usual, I'll be making more posts to introduce each character!

[funeralcaketopper]

An edited screenshot of my off colors

Pearl pair, Smoky, Cinnabar, moon pearl, lafist and nebula stone

[otakunerdgirl94]

Need to bring the OC stuff back to tumblr. Missed Umiko and Ryusui a lot so finally got more art

1/2 commissions for Otakunerdgirl!!

[baekhyunsbestie]

── ❝ choose ❞ 🦢ྀི ̟!!

⟢ an arranged marriage au req’d by this qt anonie <3 :’) ty lovie!

જ⁀➴°⋆ content: 18+/MDNI. 22.5k+ words—omg i just don't know how to stfu do i ⁉️ baekhyun x f!reader. baekhyun x f!oc. sehun x f!reader. arranged marriage au. strangers to friends to lovers. the trifecta: angst, fluff, smut ⟡ alcohol consumption, explicit language, jealousy on both sides, solo masturbation (baek), pet names, praise kink, body worship, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, creampie ⟡

you could hardly wrap your head around the situation unraveling in front of you.

just a week ago, the idea of sitting in this stuffy, oversized meeting room, surrounded by your parents, their precious real estate company’s top shareholders, and a room full of suits from the country’s leading investment firm, would have been laughable. yet here you were, their board of directors staring across at yours like it was a chess match.

and apparently, you were the pawn.

“i know we’re asking a lot, dearest,” your father’s voice echoes carried the weight of his words as he spoke to you from the backseat of the car, heading toward the byuns’ estate. “but this arrangement with the byuns will strengthen our standing in the business world. you understand, don’t you?” 

the words swirled in your mind like smoke, thick and suffocating. his company was already worth billions, a family legacy poised to stretch across generations. this wasn’t about business; it was just cold, unquenchable greed.

“plus,” your mother chimed in, her tone softened by the tinkling of pearls around her neck, “it’s about time you started thinking about settling down, darling.” she shot you a sympathetic smile that felt as cold and detached as the diamonds in her ring.

you offered a forced smile and a nod, swallowing down the rush of anger that threatened to spill over. you did your best to hide the unease bubbling within, a skill honed since you were young, the result of years spent learning to maintain a poised, unflappable exterior.

twenty five years in, and it felt like you’d spent at least twenty of those meticulously walking the tightrope of your family’s expectations—always striving to make them proud, to meet every demand placed on you. from a young age, you were drilled in the understanding that your role as the daughter of a man of notable standing was to be obedient, to speak with poise and intelligence, to master the intricate dance of business that came with being his one and only heir.

it was almost impressive how deeply your parents had buried this secret, orchestrating your future without so much as a slip-up. a plan so meticulous it must have been in the works since you were a child.

the room was alive with chatter, a symphony of negotiations and legal jargon — talks of contracts, investments, and of course, prenups. your chest tightened, the air feeling heavier with every word. the faint hum of voices blurred as your gaze scanned the room, searching for him — the heir, the man you were apparently promised to, like a relic passed between dynasties.

but he wasn’t there.

as if his father could read your thoughts, his voice sliced through the tension, calm and composed. “baekhyun is on his way. he…had to handle some important business in the city for me. but don’t you worry, you’ll meet your fiancé very soon.”

fiancé. 

the word felt like a stone sinking in your stomach.

your nails dug into your palms, the sting grounding you, a small reminder that this wasn’t just some twisted dream. you were tired of this—tired of being your parents’ perfect little pawn, always following their rules, always nodding along. but this? this was too much.

your life wasn’t a business deal. but to them, that’s all it had ever been.

as the lively chatter swirled around you, the voices blending into a cacophony, you felt the faint throb of a headache creeping in. the air in the room seemed to thicken, pressing against your chest and making it harder to draw a full breath. your senses dulled, edges of the world blurring, and the faint dizziness began to spiral into something heavier, more oppressive.

the floor beneath your feet seemed unsteady, the room spinning as if it were alive. desperate to regain control, you pushed yourself to your feet, your only thought was to find some water—or escape the suffocating atmosphere entirely. each breath felt shallower, the weight of the situation curling in your stomach like nausea. in your haze, you barely registered the arrival of more guests, their presence another layer to the overwhelming din.

guests moved like shadows through the chaos, their chatter weaving another layer into the cacophony that pressed against your skull. the air felt heavier with every passing second, the room spinning just enough to blur the faces around you. each shaky step toward the door felt monumental, the faint promise of the hallway’s quiet drawing you forward like a lifeline. but before you could reach it, your knees gave way, a sudden betrayal of your resolve.

the ground surged up to claim you—but it never came. instead, strong arms caught you, steady and sure, halting your descent.

time seemed to pause as his touch anchored you, the frantic noise around you fading into a dull hum. lifting your gaze, you met his. the soft glow of the chandelier above crowned his features in a golden haze, casting delicate highlights over his cheekbones and the curve of his jaw. murmurs swept through the room like ripples on water, curious eyes turning toward the spectacle.

“you okay, sweetheart? you don’t look so good.” his voice was low, calm, each syllable threaded with quiet concern. his dark eyes searched yours, intent and unwavering, as his hands steadied you—gentle yet unyielding.

god, he’s beautiful. breathtaking, even. the plush curve of his pink lips, the faint scatter of freckles that added a boyish charm to his otherwise sharp features, the effortless way his perfectly styled hair framed his face like it belonged in a magazine spread.

“can someone grab her some water?” he called out, eyes still on you. he didn’t wait for a reply before one of the staff rushed to comply, leaving you with the full weight of his attention.

moments later, a chilled bottle was in his hand. he helped you back to your seat, his movements careful but efficient, like he’d done this a hundred times before. with a single twist, the cap came off, and he pressed the bottle into your hands.

“here. drink,” he said, firm but kind, his gaze never leaving your face as though willing you to trust him.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you took a cautious sip, the cool liquid soothing against your parched throat. “i don’t know what came over me. i’m usually not like this.”

he watched you closely, a faint crease between his brows. “just take it easy for a moment,” he said, his voice softer now, the chaos of the room seeming to fade as his focus remained entirely on you.

"i’m baekhyun," he says, extending his hand toward you. his voice is steady, but there's a weight behind it, like he’s forcing himself to sound composed. “you must be my new fiancée.”

your fingers meet his in a brief, formal shake, and the two of you exchange tentative, almost apologetic smiles. it’s not the kind of moment you imagined when meeting your future husband—not romantic or thrilling, just... somber.

your gaze flickers over his features, taking in the way his body seems to rebel against the situation. his shoulders are stiff, tension radiating from him like a coiled spring. his eyes dart around the room, searching for some kind of escape, you suspect. when he finally settles in the chair next to you, his leg starts bouncing—an anxious rhythm against the polished floor. his fingers are laced tightly over his lap, knuckles white, and you can see the faint twitch of his jaw as he clenches it.

“care to take a walk?” you ask, your voice carrying a quiet plea for escape, craving the cool embrace of fresh air to cut through the weight of it all.

“yeah, let’s get outta here,” he answers, his gaze locking onto yours. an effortless, heart-stopping smile spreads across his face—so disarmingly perfect it almost feels unfair. you hate how good he looks when he does that, how his smile seems to eclipse the chaos swirling between you. but, in this tangled mess, it’s a small consolation. at least he’s easy on the eyes. it dulls the bitterness of it all—just enough to let you breathe.

even if only for a moment.

the two of you drift into his family’s garden, a hidden sanctuary tucked away from the grandeur and noise of the estate. vibrant blossoms stretch toward the sunlight in every direction, their hues weaving a striking contrast to the chaos you left behind. the air is cool and fresh, carrying a faint hint of jasmine, and as you inhale deeply, you feel the tension begin to melt from your shoulders. 

the world seems softer here.

he trails behind you, his gaze following your every move as you admire the kaleidoscope of colors—blush pinks, fiery reds, golden yellows. there’s a childlike wonder in the way you reach out to brush your fingers across delicate petals. “my mom planted all of this,” he says, his voice gentle as he watches your delight. his steps slow as you move further along the path, his tone softening as he adds, “she pours herself into the garden, says it keeps her busy. i help when i can, but... well, my schedule doesn’t always allow it.”

the weight of his words lingers in the air, a quiet sigh you almost miss over the faint rustle of leaves. eventually, you find yourselves settling on a bench nestled in the heart of the garden. the riot of blooms seems to fade into the periphery, leaving the two of you cocooned in a world of your own. you trace the carvings in the wooden seat, wondering if his mother chose this very spot to escape—a retreat from the noise, a small oasis among the roses and the canopy of trees.

his voice cuts through the stillness, low and threaded with a quiet ache. “i’m sure someone like you knows what it’s like.” the unspoken meaning in his words brushes against your thoughts as his eyes hold yours, steady yet weighted. the scent of jasmine clings to the pause between you, heavy and inescapable. “to never have the freedom to make your own choices.”

you nod slowly, the motion deliberate, though your smile falters, never quite reaching your eyes. your gaze drifts upward, drawn to the tree above. its branches sway gently, a soft rustling of leaves carried by the breeze, like nature's quiet lullaby. the speckled sunlight filters through the canopy, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow over your face. there’s a calmness in the way the leaves dance.

he watches you with an intensity that feels almost palpable, his gaze like a brushstroke tracing the delicate contours of your face. his brown eyes, touched by the sunlight streaming through the trees, shimmer with flecks of golden amber, glinting like embers in their depths. they flit over your features—your lips, the subtle curve of your cheek, the way your lashes catch the light—like he’s trying to decipher the answer to an unspoken question, a puzzle that only you can solve.

there’s a quiet tension in his expression, something searching, like he’s trying to piece together how the two of you, tethered by circumstance yet worlds apart, have found yourselves here. the silence between you is heavy, not with discomfort but with the weight of everything unsaid.

you can almost feel his thoughts skimming the edges of yours, the quiet intensity with which he watches every word you speak, every tiny movement, as if measuring their truth. could someone so grounded, so effortlessly genuine, truly be the daughter of such a money hungry mogul? you don’t carry the polished veneer he expected—the smooth entitlement, the rehearsed charm that usually drips from wealth. instead, there’s a quiet gravity to you, an unrefined rawness that sets you apart, unpolished yet undeniably real.

it unnerves him, perhaps, how different you are from the image he had in mind. but as his gaze lingers, softening around the edges, you realize it’s not judgment you see in his eyes—it’s curiosity. maybe even something more, something unspoken, nestled in the spaces between his glances and the golden light that dances over the garden.

a flicker of something unspoken weaves through your voice as you finally break the silence, the weight of shared understanding hanging just beneath the surface. “looks like we’ve got that in common.”

he seems to snap out of his thoughts, his brows furrowing as he tilts his head, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. “what do you mean?”

your lips curve into a faint, melancholic smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. there’s a vulnerability in the way you say it, as if the words themselves are a confession. “not being able to choose for ourselves.” 

the air in the garden was thick with the scent of blooming roses, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn. it was quiet here, far from the bustling estate where their families and shareholders were likely busy hashing out the terms of their future. you and baekhyun sat on the wooden bench beneath a willow tree, its long, graceful branches hanging low, creating a canopy of green above them.

baekhyun was leaning back, his gaze lost in the distance, fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of the bench.

"so, i guess this is how it’s going to be," he said, his voice low and almost melancholic. "both of us, caught up in something we never asked for."

you turned your head to look at him, your eyes soft with understanding. you could see the way his lips barely curled into a smile, but there was a sadness to it, something more than just resignation.

"yeah," you said quietly. "my parents... they’ve made every decision for me. from the moment i was born, it was like my life was planned out, as if i never had a choice."

baekhyun chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "same here. every decision, every step, every role—always played the part they wanted. my future was written before i even had a chance to pick up a pen."

there was a silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence that came with shared understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the burden you both carried. the sound of birds in the distance seemed louder in the quiet, the rustling of the leaves above them almost rhythmic, as if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for them to speak again.

"do you ever wonder what it would be like to just... choose for yourself?" your voice was barely above a whisper, but it was filled with longing, a quiet hope for something more than the life that had been mapped out for you both. "to do something—anything—that’s just yours?"

baekhyun’s eyes flickered to you, something raw and unguarded in his gaze. "all the time," he admitted. "but then i think about the consequences, the responsibilities. it's not that simple, is it?"

you looked away, staring at the grass beneath you, the weight of your shared truth hanging in the air. "no. i guess it’s not."

"but maybe," baekhyun added slowly, his voice thoughtful, "maybe we don’t have to completely surrender ourselves to what they want. maybe there’s a way to carve out a little space for ourselves, even in all of this."

you met his gaze then, and for the first time, something flickered between you—an unspoken agreement, a shared sense of rebellion. the world inside the byun estate might have been spinning around you, filled with deals and plans and expectations, but here, in the quiet of the garden, you were just two people who understood what it was like to be trapped by others’ dreams.

“so, if we’re going to do this, we need to figure out what we want, not just what our families want,” his voice is calm, but you hear the urgency behind his words, as if this conversation is one of the few things in his life he can control.

you nod, your gaze fixed on the ground beneath your feet. you’ve lived your life so far based on what others expected of you—always the perfect daughter, the future heir, never really given the chance to choose. this marriage, this arrangement, felt like just another chain, another expectation to carry. but now, sitting beside baekhyun, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is an opportunity to reshape things.

“what if we made our own terms?” your voice is soft but resolute. “i don’t want to just play the role my parents set for me. i want... i want more than that.”

baekhyun turns to you, eyes searching yours. “what kind of terms are you talking about?”

you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “i think we need to agree on some ground rules. like... real ground rules. for us. not for them, not for the company, not for the shareholders, but for us.”

baekhyun raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "indulge me, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice a soft, inviting challenge.

you pause for a moment, your breath catching as his words swirl around you, the pet name slipping past your guard, laced with a teasing warmth. his gaze locks onto you with an intensity that makes your pulse race. you take a steadying breath, forcing your composure back.

"first," you begin, your voice steady but edged with the quiet fire you've been holding back, "we need the freedom to choose for ourselves. our careers, our lives—those can’t be controlled by anyone else. i refuse to be treated like some asset, some pawn in someone else’s game." you meet his eyes, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. "and i’m sure you don’t want that, either."

baekhyun nods slowly. “agreed. i’ve spent my whole life following their script. it’s exhausting.”

your eyes soften. “we’re not puppets. we don’t need to be. and... we don’t have to start a family just because it’s expected. we should decide when the time is right for us, not because it’s what our parents want. i don’t want to feel like my life’s purpose is only to produce heirs.”

baekhyun’s expression shifts, and his gaze turns thoughtful. “i can’t stand the pressure to ‘settle down’ just for the sake of appearances. if we’re going to do this, it’s got to be on our terms. not theirs.”

a long pause hangs between you, the only sound the distant hum of your families inside the estate. the tension has shifted into something more peaceful, as if your agreement on those points has created a small, sacred space between you, one where you can both breathe. but there’s more.

“one thing,” baekhyun continues, his voice quieter now. “we can’t let them interfere with what we build together. i don’t want anyone pushing us, telling us what to do. not when it comes to our relationship, at least.”

you look up at him, a flicker of something new in your gaze. “agreed. no one gets a say in what we do in private. not our families, not the board members—no one.”

“and,” he adds after a beat, “we need to be honest with each other. no playing games. no pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. if this is going to work, it can’t be based on a lie.”

your lips part, about to speak, but instead, you nod, feeling the quiet weight of that commitment settle between you. “honesty. always.”

there’s a pause before you add something that’s been on your mind. “and if we choose to... see other people—since this is an arranged marriage and all—it has to be with complete discretion. no secrets. we let each other know, no matter what.”

baekhyun raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a moment. then, he nods slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “i like that. transparency. no hidden agendas.”

you feel a weight lift, as if you’ve just cleared the air between you, creating space for something more real. this wasn’t going to be the typical marriage of convenience. it was theirs to shape, even with its constraints.

you sit there for a while longer, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over the two of you. the garden feels quieter now, as though the earth itself is listening to your promises, absorbing the unspoken understanding between you.

“maybe,” baekhyun says, breaking the silence, “this could be the start of something we both actually choose. not just something we’re forced into.”

you turn your head toward him, meeting his gaze fully now. there’s a quiet, unspoken truth between you, something neither of you can fully explain. you’re not bound by your families’ expectations anymore, not entirely. in this moment, you have something real—something you can build from the ground up.

“we’ll figure it out,” you say, your voice steady but with a hint of hope. “together.”

baekhyun smiles softly, genuinely, a smile that feels like a promise. he leans back against the bench, watching the last of the sun’s rays slip beneath the horizon.

“together,” he echoes, his voice a quiet vow.

you’ve heard the whispers about byun baekhyun over the years—rumors that float through the air like smoke, delicate but undeniable. they speak of his prowess at his father’s investment firm, a place where he moves through high-stakes meetings with the kind of effortless ease that makes you wonder if he was born for this world of numbers and deals. he’s the golden boy of the byun empire, the heir to a billion-dollar fortune, his name passing from lips with a reverence tinged with envy. there’s no denying it: he’s the one everyone admires, the one they all want to be.

women look at him with longing in their eyes, a mix of desire and fascination. the men? they admire him in a way that’s almost reverential, wishing they could command the same kind of power, charm, and effortless charisma. there’s a certain gravity to him, an aura that demands attention without him having to try. he’s everything people talk about, everything they crave—untouchable, almost, and yet somehow, always within reach.

and, of course, he’s heard about you, too.

the heiress to the nation’s largest real estate company. your name is spoken with just as much weight as his, though in a very different way. your company’s worth mirrors his own—both in revenue and stature—but it’s not just the numbers that catch his attention. it’s you. the soft-hearted, kind, and undeniably stunning woman who runs a billion-dollar empire, carrying yourself with a quiet confidence that never needs to be announced. your philanthropic efforts are well known, hosting charity events that seem to shimmer with a light of their own. there’s a grace about you, something almost ethereal, like you’ve stepped out of a dream. people adore you, but not in the way they adore him—your admiration feels real, like it’s earned, not given by default.

he finds that… refreshing. surprising, even. everything about you is more genuine than he expected, and your presence is like a breath of fresh air in a world that can sometimes feel suffocating. you’re approachable, down to earth in a way that makes him pause and reconsider everything he thought he knew about someone like you. in a sea of pristine, curated images, you stand apart—real, raw, and completely unaffected by the shallow expectations placed on women of your stature.

and yet… there are no scandals, no rumors swirling around you like a storm. no messy breakups, no late-night flings or headlines about your personal life. nothing worthy of note, nothing that would tarnish the carefully crafted image the world has of you. you’re the perfect saint—untouched by the kind of drama that seems to follow people in your world.

it’s that spotless record, that pristine reputation, that draws him in even more. you are the perfect package—beautiful, poised, charitable, and yet somehow still down to earth despite the immense wealth you command. it makes him wonder: how had no one managed to sweep you off your feet yet? in a world full of people eager to claim what’s theirs, how had you remained untouched, unattached?

the question lingers in his mind, and despite himself, he can’t help but be intrigued.

as he sat across from you now, watching your parents sign the papers that would bind you to him, the difference between the two of you felt almost like a chasm, vast and undeniable. he knew his own reputation well—a turbulent storm of scandals, heartbreaks, and fleeting, empty affairs that left nothing behind but whispers and regret. it had become his armor, the kind of image he had long since accepted as his reality. but you? you were something else entirely.

there was a purity to you, an almost ethereal quality that seemed to shield you from the messiness of the world. your presence was both grounding and mesmerizing, like the calm in the eye of a storm. every movement, every glance was effortless—natural, graceful—as if you were meant to be the face of your family’s empire from the moment you were born. you exuded a quiet strength, a dignity that contrasted sharply with the chaotic and often reckless energy that surrounded him. you were unmarked by the world’s harshness, untouched by the scandals and drama that followed so many like him.

baekhyun found himself drawn to you, captivated by the way you held yourself with a poise that felt almost unreal. it wasn’t the beauty that caught his attention—it was something deeper, something more elusive. it was the way you seemed untouchable, like a rare and delicate flower that bloomed in a garden no one else could enter. and yet, there was an undeniable pull in that beauty, a force that beckoned him, making him ache to understand the world you inhabited, a world he could never fully grasp.

it was a strange pull, one he didn’t quite understand. there was something about you that challenged him—something so perfectly poised, so untouched by the storms of life that it felt like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. how could anyone resist the temptation to peel back the layers, to see what lay beneath the surface?

but then again, baekhyun had never been one to turn away from a challenge. and you? you were the ultimate challenge. perfect, poised, and completely untarnished by the weight of the world. 

how could he not want to get to know you better?

the byun estate hums with the familiar buzz of luxury. voices blend into a harmonious murmur, glasses clink with a soft chime, and the scent of fine wine and expensive perfume floats through the air. you've been here before, countless times—hosting galas, attending charity events, being the face of your family's empire. this world is nothing new to you. the polished smiles, the fleeting conversations, the constant ebb and flow of social rituals. you're used to the attention, to the admiring gazes that follow you from the moment you enter a room. it's nothing you can't handle.

but tonight, it's different.

tonight, the nerves in your chest feel like something foreign, something new. it’s not the usual excitement of orchestrating an event or making an impression; this is different. it’s the kind of nervousness that coils tight in your stomach and makes your palms clammy, the kind that comes with a weight you can’t quite place. it’s not just the eyes on you now—it’s the knowledge that those eyes are on you because you’re engaged. you are now, irrevocably, tied to baekhyun.

you catch yourself fidgeting with the hem of your dress, adjusting the delicate fabric for no reason at all, and then quickly stop, taking a slow breath to steady yourself. you’ve done this a hundred times before. but you can’t help the jitter of nerves that seems to crawl under your skin, prickling with the knowledge that this is an event meant for you and baekhyun. an engagement party, the beginning of a future that you never asked for but now have to walk into, with every eye in the room trained on you.

baekhyun has been standing across the room, holding court with a small group of guests. his figure is unmistakable—tall, effortlessly composed, exuding a quiet confidence that draws people in. you’ve watched him navigate the space, exchanging pleasantries, always poised. but when his eyes meet yours, there's something different about it. it's not the casual acknowledgment you’re used to when you’re the center of attention at an event. this is something deeper, something that makes your breath hitch for a fraction of a second.

and then, without missing a beat, he makes his way toward you, cutting through the crowd with a fluidity that feels almost deliberate. you swallow hard, feeling that strange heat rise to your cheeks again, despite how practiced you are in social situations. it’s not just anyone coming toward you now; it’s your fiancé—the man you’re about to enter a lifetime with, in front of a room full of people, their eyes watching, judging, speculating.

he stops just a few feet away, his smile warm and easy, like he’s just another person in this sea of faces, and yet there’s something different about the way he looks at you. not just out of politeness or social obligation, but something far more genuine, like he’s actually interested. you can feel the weight of his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

"you look beautiful tonight," he says, his voice a soothing balm that helps ground you in the moment. his words cut through the buzz of conversation, making everything feel quieter, softer.

you can’t help but laugh softly, trying to mask the nerves with the practiced ease you’ve perfected over years of public appearances. “thank you,” you say, but your voice betrays you, a little too soft, a little too unsure for someone who has spent their life on stages like this. “it’s a lot to take in, honestly. not exactly the usual type of event.”

he nods, a small, knowing smile on his lips. “i get it. it’s... different, isn’t it?” his tone is gentle, and there’s an understanding in the way he looks at you, as if he can sense the strain of the moment.

you can’t decide if that makes you feel more at ease or more exposed. the gentle way he’s watching you, like he sees past the polished exterior you’ve perfected over the years, makes your chest tighten. this isn’t just a man offering a polite compliment. no, there’s a subtle warmth behind it, something that’s genuine. and that’s what makes your stomach flutter in a way you hadn’t expected.

before you can respond, a voice cuts through the moment—sweet, syrupy, but carrying a quiet sharpness.

“well, well, well. isn’t this interesting?” the voice is sweet, dripping with something syrupy but sharp. 

she’s stunning. stunning—like a high-fashion model, her posture regal and her features flawless. her skin is smooth, a deep shade of mocha, and her hair falls in sleek waves around her shoulders, glossy and perfect. the way she holds herself is effortless, a kind of confidence that you can’t quite place, but it’s magnetic. you can feel the tension rise in the air as her eyes flicker from baekhyun to you, assessing you in the same quiet, deliberate way she seems to assess everything.

the woman’s presence alone seems to turn the room’s energy up a notch. there’s an edge to her voice as she continues, her gaze fixed on you with an almost calculating look. "i didn't think the byun men were ones for arranged marriages," she says, her tone too sweet to be anything but sarcastic. "how... quaint." her lips curl into a smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, which gleam with a kind of challenge.

you manage to lift your chin, but her words, her presence, make you feel small. you shift uncomfortably, the room suddenly feeling too hot. who is she?

baekhyun shifts slightly at her words, his smile still intact but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—a flash of discomfort, or maybe something else entirely—that you can’t quite decipher. he takes a half-step closer to you, his hand brushing yours subtly, almost protectively.

“aya, i didn’t expect you to be here tonight,” baekhyun says, his voice tight but polite. it’s clear there’s history between them, something unsaid, but you can’t quite grasp it.

aya’s eyes flicker back to you, and for a moment, it feels like she’s sizing you up, like she’s deciding something. she doesn’t bother hiding the slight sneer that tugs at her lips as she looks you over. “oh, i couldn’t miss the show,” she says, her tone saccharine, the words laced with something deeper. “i didn’t realize the newest member of the byun family would be so... delicate.”

the words sting, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks, heat spreading through your skin as a strange wave of doubt rises in your chest. you glance at baekhyun, but his eyes are fixed on aya, his jaw tight. there's something unspoken between them that you can feel but can’t quite name.

before you can gather your thoughts, your parents appear, pulling you two away, and in that moment, your conversation with baekhyun and aya is cut short. as you walk away, your mind races. who was she? and why had baekhyun’s demeanor changed so quickly? was there something between them?

the questions swirl in your mind, and you can’t shake the feeling that aya is more than just a passing acquaintance. there's something deeper, something personal, and now, you're left wondering just how much you don’t know about baekhyun and the world you're about to be tied to.

three months had passed, and in that time, you and baekhyun had settled into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural. between appointments with the wedding planner, company dinners, and endless events, your interactions had grown from polite exchanges to something far more comfortable. what had begun as a partnership forged out of obligation now carried an air of genuine camaraderie.

it didn’t take long before your schedules started overlapping even more. casual meetings evolved into dinner dates—just the two of you, away from the scrutiny of planners and business associates. those moments felt different, unburdened by expectation, allowing you to see each other as individuals rather than roles in a contract.

you discovered that the two of you had more in common than you’d anticipated. shared music tastes that had you both curating playlists for car rides, a mutual appreciation for certain foods that turned dinners into culinary adventures, and a surprising knack for poking fun at each other’s humor. you bonded over a love for art, both traditional and modern, and even found yourselves admiring each other’s impeccable sense of style—always coordinated, as if without trying.

the more time you spent with him, the more you began to notice the little things. the way baekhyun’s gaze would linger on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the soft quirk of his lips when he caught you smiling at something, the subtle brush of his fingers against yours that left a warmth in their wake. his presence carried a kind of tenderness, a quiet thoughtfulness that seemed to grow with every passing day.

you couldn’t pinpoint when it happened exactly, but you started feeling something deeper for him. it wasn’t just about finding him attractive—though he was undeniably so—it was the way he made you feel seen and understood, as if you were standing on even ground with someone who truly got you.

for the first time since this whole engagement had been arranged, a weight lifted off your shoulders. the uncertainty that once loomed over you began to dissipate, replaced by something softer, something warm. you found yourself feeling grateful—not for the circumstances, but for him. baekhyun was like a mirror image of yourself in many ways, a male counterpart who complemented you in all the right ways.

as the weeks passed, attending events and parties together became second nature. while your appearances had always been for the sake of optics, they now felt like opportunities to simply enjoy each other’s company in a setting that didn’t demand conversation but allowed for quiet connection.

tonight was one of those nights. the air buzzed with anticipation as you and baekhyun prepared for yet another event, but for the first time, you realized you weren’t dreading it. if anything, you looked forward to it—because he’d be by your side.

the gala hall pulsed with an opulent energy—muted laughter, the murmur of refined conversation, and the melodic clinking of crystal glasses. chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, casting shimmering patterns onto the polished marble floors. dressed in a gown that hugged your frame like it had been stitched with you in mind, you moved through the crowd with practiced grace, your every step exuding poise even as a quiet unease coiled in your stomach.

baekhyun stood effortlessly at your side, his presence magnetic. the sharp lines of his tuxedo accentuated his lean frame, and his posture held a kind of quiet authority. his hand rested lightly on the small of your back, a touch that seemed intimate to onlookers but was purely performative. the two of you cut an impressive figure together—a vision of elegance and synergy.

to the world, you were the perfect couple, a match made in heaven. but beneath the polished facade lay the truth: you were little more than companions caught in a meticulously arranged engagement, each navigating the precarious expectations thrust upon you.

“that you, angel?”

the low, familiar voice broke through the hum of the room, warm and laced with teasing nostalgia. you froze for a moment before turning, your heart skipping as you took in the sight of sehun.

his boyish grin was as irresistible as you remembered, though time had sharpened his features into something more striking. he had grown into himself, his presence commanding yet easy, like a favorite memory brought to life.

“sehun!” your voice carried genuine surprise, a smile brightening your face as you closed the distance between you. without hesitation, you wrapped him in a warm hug, the scent of his cologne instantly familiar, a subtle reminder of carefree days long gone.

“it’s been forever,” you said, pulling back to meet his gaze, your smile lingering.

baekhyun’s hand slid from the small of your back as if retreating from a territory no longer his, though he stayed close enough to watch. his brows drew together in a faint furrow, the only outward sign of the unease rippling through him as your attention shifted entirely to sehun.

your conversation with sehun flowed effortlessly, the years apart melting away under the weight of shared memories. his laughter, warm and familiar, softened as the minutes passed, his gaze lingering on you like he was cataloging every detail he had missed. his words turned personal, each one dipping into a past neither of you had truly revisited.

“god, you still look as beautiful as ever,” sehun said, his voice dipping lower, eyes tracing your figure with an intensity that made you shy under the weight of it. you glanced down, a soft laugh escaping, your fingers brushing your necklace out of habit.

from across the room, baekhyun’s conversation with a business partner faltered. his eyes snapped to you, catching the moment between you and sehun. the way sehun looked at you—like you were something he regretted losing, something he wasn’t ready to give up on—set something off in baekhyun. a flame of something unnameable stirred low in his chest.

sehun leaned a little closer, lowering his voice as if you were the only two people in the room. “so, i hear congratulations are in order,” he said, the casual edge of his tone undermined by the way his eyes searched yours. “engaged, huh?”

your breath hitched for a moment, the question catching you off guard. “it’s… complicated,” you admitted, the truth slipping out before you could stop yourself.

you explained the nature of your engagement, how it wasn’t a grand love story but an arrangement born of convenience and obligation. you admitted you were still figuring out what it meant, how to navigate the fragile, undefined space between friendship and something more.

sehun’s expression softened, but not in the way you expected. there was an edge to it, a wistfulness laced with something more potent. his lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed a lingering ache.

“that’s a shame,” he murmured, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear. “you deserve more than complicated, sweets.”

baekhyun, now standing a few steps away, caught every word, his sharp hearing honing in on the conversation like a weapon. his jaw tightened, the tension in his posture betraying his otherwise calm demeanor.

his gaze flicked to sehun, noting the way he leaned into your space, how his eyes drank in every detail of you, his lingering touches disguised as friendly gestures. it was unmistakable. sehun wasn’t just catching up. he was still in love with you.

and the realization settled into baekhyun’s chest like a stone, heavy and inescapable.

baekhyun’s presence shifted the atmosphere in an instant as he closed the gap between you and sehun, his stride purposeful, his gaze sharp. the moment he stood beside you, it was clear he was no longer just a bystander in this conversation.

“sehun, right?” baekhyun’s voice was calm, but the underlying tension in his tone was unmistakable. his eyes, however, were anything but polite—they were intense, unreadable, and they locked onto sehun with a quiet ferocity.

sehun’s lips twitched into a thin, controlled smile, a hint of something that was more a challenge than a greeting. “baekhyun,” he acknowledged with a nod, his eyes scanning the space between you. “we were just catching up. you know, we go way back.”

“that’s obvious,” baekhyun responded smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist with such ease that it felt almost rehearsed, like a declaration of ownership wrapped in casual familiarity. his touch was possessive, though subtle enough to not draw immediate attention.

sehun’s eyes flickered downward, his gaze briefly tracing the line of baekhyun’s arm resting on you before snapping back to his face. the playful edge in his smile hardened into something sharper, more pointed. “must be nice,” he drawled, his tone carrying a layer of ice, “getting to enjoy the benefits of a relationship without actually having to earn it.”

baekhyun’s posture stiffened, his jaw tightening as his eyes darkened with a dangerous edge. “excuse me?” the words left his lips with chilling precision, his voice dipping in temperature as the air around the three of you seemed to still, the tension thickening by the second.

you placed a hand lightly on baekhyun’s chest, a subtle plea for him to keep his cool, but sehun wasn’t finished.

“i’m just saying,” sehun continued, his eyes narrowing, “some of us actually had to work for her time and affection.” his voice lowered to a soft, venomous tone, dripping with barely concealed disdain. “not everyone gets handed things on a silver platter.”

the words hung in the air, sharp and biting. baekhyun’s grip on his composure slipped just slightly, his arm falling from your waist as he took a slow, deliberate step toward sehun. his hands curled into fists, muscles coiling with restrained fury. “careful, sehun,” he warned, his voice now low, dangerous, “you’re starting to sound bitter.”

sehun didn’t back down. if anything, his smirk grew, and his words came out with a touch more venom. “and you’re starting to sound insecure.”

the air between baekhyun and sehun was thick with tension, and you could feel the shift in the atmosphere as the subtle standoff drew the attention of those nearby. murmurs rippled through the crowd, all eyes instinctively moving toward the brewing conflict. your pulse quickened, and before things could escalate further, you stepped in between them, your hands pressing against baekhyun’s broad chest to hold him back.

“stop it, both of you,” you hissed, your voice low, but every syllable sharp and filled with authority. the heat of the moment crackled around you, but you stood firm. “this is not the time or place.”

sehun let out a quiet chuckle and took a small step back, his smirk never faltering, but the challenge in his eyes remained. baekhyun’s gaze, however, stayed fixed on him, a silent storm of possessiveness swirling in his eyes, the tension between them practically vibrating like static.

“i’ll see you around, sweets,” sehun purred, his words dripping with a mixture of mockery and something deeper, before he turned and melted into the crowd.

you turned to face baekhyun, frustration and confusion flashing in your eyes. “what was that?” you demanded, your voice betraying the storm of emotions you were fighting to keep in check.

“he’s still in love with you,” baekhyun spat, his voice low, like a growl that barely contained the storm of jealousy brewing beneath the surface.

“and that gives you the right to start a scene?” you shot back, the words escaping before you could stop them. you could feel your temper rising, and the last thing you needed was a confrontation. without waiting for his response, you stormed off, needing to clear your head.

you found yourself in the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom, the cool marble under your palms grounding you as you splashed cold water onto your flushed face. the chill of it did little to calm the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. just as you exhaled, trying to steady your heartbeat, the door creaked open. through the reflection in the mirror, you saw aya, her presence as smooth as ever, leaning against the doorframe with that calculating smile of hers.

“well,” she purred, her tone heavy with amusement, “you must be something special to have two men practically fighting over you like that.”

you stiffened, not allowing her the satisfaction of seeing your discomfort. your eyes locked with hers in the mirror, steady and defiant. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, but filled with a quiet edge.

god, why is she everywhere?

aya chuckled, the sound like the scrape of ice over a raw wound, her lips curving into a sly, knowing smile. “oh, come on. it’s written all over their faces. but don’t get too comfortable. baekhyun has a type, and i’m sure you’re just... temporary.”

her words sliced through the air, cold and sharp, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. your spine straightened, your resolve hardening like steel. you met her gaze with unwavering confidence, every inch of you radiating defiance.

“if that’s all, i think you should leave,” you said, your voice steady, calm—giving nothing away.

for a moment, aya’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she quickly recovered, the facade of sweetness back in place. “suit yourself,” she said with a shrug, pushing herself off the counter and exiting without another word.

you stayed in front of the mirror for a long moment after, your reflection staring back at you, caught between the tension of the evening and the weight of the drama unfolding around you.

you took a deep breath, willing the rush of emotions to settle before you stepped out of the bathroom. the hallway was quiet, a welcome contrast to the storm of tension you had just left behind. as you walked, you tried to collect your thoughts, hoping the worst of the night was behind you.

but when you turned the corner, there he was. baekhyun. his hand rested on the back of his neck, his posture tense as he stared down at the floor, clearly lost in thought.

you paused in your tracks, your heart still racing with the remnants of the tension that had flared only moments before. a flicker of frustration stirred within you, but before you could decide whether to avoid him or confront him, baekhyun’s gaze lifted, catching yours across the quiet hallway. the softness in his eyes was immediate, and for a split second, the weight of everything seemed to settle between you two.

“hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice quieter than usual—almost tentative, as though he were carefully selecting each word. “i’m sorry for earlier. i didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

your throat tightened, the weight of the night pressing down on you, the sting of everything still fresh. you swallowed, pushing down the swirl of emotions threatening to rise. “it’s fine,” you replied, your voice steady but betraying nothing of the tension still coiling inside you. “but i don’t want you making a scene like that again, baekhyun. it’s… unnecessary.”

for a brief moment, his expression faltered, the usual confidence slipping as something softer flickered in his eyes—vulnerability, maybe even regret. he took a slow step closer, his hands sliding into his pockets as if to steady himself, his posture shifting in a subtle attempt to ground the brewing storm between you two.

“i know,” he murmured, the words low, almost lost in the air. “i get it. i was… out of line. i don’t know why i reacted like that, honestly. sehun was… just so obvious. and it was hard for me to watch, watching him like that with you. i didn’t want other people getting the wrong idea.”

your brow furrowed as you absorbed his words, trying to make sense of them. your mind flashed back to the confrontation with aya in the bathroom—her words cold and sharp, but you weren’t ready to bring that up. not now. not when things were already so tangled.

“what exactly are you trying to say, baekhyun?” you asked, your tone steady but pointed, trying to keep your own emotions from spilling out in the heat of the moment.

baekhyun hesitated, and for a long second, his eyes searched yours, as if looking for the right way to explain himself.

he paused, his gaze locking onto yours with a quiet intensity, as though he were searching for something—perhaps understanding, or a sign that you wouldn’t hold his outburst against him. when he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost hesitant, as if weighing each word. “i know i overreacted earlier. but if you have feelings for him—sehun—it’s okay. i’ll understand...i know we said we'd let each other choose and all.”

you blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness, the words lingering in the air before you could process them. a moment of confusion passed between you, but then you shook your head, dispelling the uncertainty. “i don’t have feelings for sehun,” you said firmly, your voice steady, though it trembled with the storm of emotions underneath. “i just didn’t want you to make a scene, especially not in front of everyone. neither of us needs that kind of attention.”

a subtle shift occurred in baekhyun’s expression, the tightness in his face easing as his gaze softened. you could almost feel the tension drain from him, like a weight lifted off his shoulders. he ran a hand through his hair, a small exhale slipping from his lips. it was a relief, so quiet and imperceptible, but you saw it—the way his shoulders relaxed and the lines around his eyes softened.

“i don’t know what came over me,” he admitted, his voice taking on a self-deprecating edge, the hint of a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “sorry if i made things uncomfortable.”

you met his gaze, a warmth blooming in your chest as you saw the sincerity in his eyes. the storm between you two was already beginning to fade, replaced by a quiet understanding. “it’s alright, baekhyun,” you replied softly, the reassurance in your voice melting the last remnants of tension. “we’re good.”

the silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t heavy or awkward—it was more like a quiet understanding settling over both of you. still, there was a lingering thought in your mind, a question you didn’t know how to answer: why had baekhyun reacted like that? did he… like you? you tried to push the thought away, burying it deep, knowing the kind of history baekhyun had. you couldn’t afford to think that way. you couldn’t let yourself believe that byun baekhyun might want you—more than just his fiancée in an arranged marriage. you weren’t sure you could measure up to someone like aya, and that thought alone was enough to keep your heart locked up tight.

finally, baekhyun gave a small nod, his usual confidence slipping back into place as the tension melted away from his posture. he stood a little taller now, a renewed ease settling into his movements.

“well,” he said, his voice returning to its familiar warmth, “let’s go back out there then. like nothing happened.”

you couldn’t help but smile, a small curve of your lips. without another word, the two of you turned toward the party, the noise and chatter of the crowd greeting you as if nothing had happened at all. the tension seemed to vanish in an instant, replaced by the rhythm of the night continuing on around you. and just like that, it felt like everything was normal again.

you couldn’t help but smile slightly, the tension in your chest finally easing. “yeah, let’s do that.”

side by side, you both walked back toward the party, the noise and chatter picking up as you entered the room. it felt like everything had returned to normal—at least on the surface. the evening continued, the night moving forward, and for now, so did the both of you.

getting caught in a storm on the weekend you both had plans definitely wasn’t on your bingo card. the rain came down in heavy sheets, the city skyline all but vanishing behind a blur of water streaking down the windows of your penthouse. it had only been a few days since baekhyun moved in, settling into his own bedroom across the hall—a necessary arrangement, according to both your parents. they insisted it was time, given how long your engagement had been simmering in the public eye. rumors had started to swirl, questioning how “in love” you two could really be if you weren’t even living together yet. appearances needed to be upheld, after all.

thankfully, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you both had feared. no awkward silences or strained politeness. to your mutual surprise, things flowed easily. over time, you had become good friends, maybe even closer than you’d anticipated, but not so close that moving in together felt natural. it was more of a performance, a shared responsibility to keep the façade intact.

this weekend, you had both planned to escape the confines of the penthouse for separate outings. you were supposed to spend the day shopping with your closest friends, an itinerary of boutiques and coffee stops laid out in your mind. baekhyun, on the other hand, had his golf bag prepped and ready for a day on the green with his buddies. but now, the storm had derailed everything, leaving you both stranded in a shared space with no choice but to wait it out.

“what should we do?” you ask as you scroll through the weather app on your phone, the updates saying there were numerous road closures. 

“i don’t think we have a choice but to stay in, sweetheart,” baekhyun sighs, plopping on the couch. “maaaan, i really wanted to try out those new golf clubs today.” 

you plop down next to him in the same exaggerated way, “and i really wanted to go shopping in the city with my girlfriends.”

for a few minutes, you both sit there in companionable quiet, the only sound the faint tapping of rain against the windows. then, baekhyun’s gaze begins to wander around your shared home. his brows lift slightly, and a mischievous glint lights up his eyes as an idea forms. “wait… didn’t you say this place has a wine cellar? what if we… raided it?”

you turn to him, your eyes sparkling like he just proposed the most brilliant plan in history. a wide grin spreads across your face. “oh my god, yes. that sounds perfect. you grab a few bottles, and i’ll order room service. pizza sound good? i like mine with pineapples.”

he watches you, momentarily captivated, a thought slipping uninvited into his mind: god, it’s like you were made to be my wife. but he quickly pushes it aside. no, he can’t say something like that. so instead, he flashes you a grin, his voice warm and teasing. 

“you’re speaking my language, sweetheart.”

two and a half bottles of wine down, a half-eaten pizza forgotten on the coffee table, and what feels like the seventh round of mario kart lighting up the tv screen—you and baekhyun are a pair of drunken, giggling messes sprawled across the couch. the atmosphere is warm and easy, the kind of buzz that softens edges and makes even losing seem a little less bitter.

“you’re such an ass!” you whine, your voice cutting through the hum of the game as baekhyun nails you with a blue shell, sending your character spiraling just as you were about to secure an easy win.

his laugh is loud and shameless, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he leans back against the couch, basking in his petty victory. “don’t hate the player, baby, hate the game,” he drawls, voice dripping with smugness.

oh, if he could kiss that pout right off your lips, he absolutely would.

the race grows tense as the finish line looms closer. with baekhyun now in the lead, you resort to desperate measures. as his fingers deftly work the controller, you smirk and reach out, clapping your palm over his eyes.

“hey, what the hell! cheater!” he exclaims, laughter bubbling out of him as he blindly mashes buttons.

you don’t let go until your character crosses the finish line in first place, throwing your controller into the air in triumph.

“HA! i win!” you declare, throwing your head back in drunken glee.

baekhyun shakes his head in mock disbelief, his eyes narrowing. “oh, so you like to play dirty, huh?”

before you can respond, a couch pillow smacks you square in the face. you gasp, feigning offense as you grab the pillow and throw it back at him with all the strength your wine-dulled reflexes can muster.

the look on baekhyun’s face shifts—his expression playful but determined. “you’ve just declared war.”

what starts as a volley of thrown pillows quickly devolves into chaos. laughter fills the room as naekhyun chases you around the coffee table, both of you dodging and weaving through the small space like children. you leap over the table in a bid to escape, but baekhyun catches you, his arms wrapping around your waist as you both tumble back onto the couch in a heap of limbs.

he pins you beneath him, straddling your hips as his hands dart to your sides, fingers mercilessly tickling. your laughter comes in breathless gasps as you squirm beneath him, trying and failing to fend him off.

“who knew my pretty fiancée was such a sore loser?” he teases, finally relenting as you lie panting beneath him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

your chest heaves as you catch your breath, but the competitive glint in your eye hasn’t faded. using his momentary pause to your advantage, you push him back, flipping him onto his back with surprising agility. now it’s your turn to straddle him, your hands pressed to his chest as you grin triumphantly.

“looks like i win—again,” you say, your voice breathy but teasing.

baekhyun blinks up at you, wide-eyed and momentarily stunned. his mind races, thoughts derailing entirely at the sight of you perched above him, your face mere inches from his. if every loss ended like this, he’d let you sabotage him every time.

your gaze flickers down to his lips, plush and inviting. you can’t help but wonder how soft they’d feel against yours, how easily they’d mold to you if you just leaned in.

but then the weight of reality presses in—a whisper of boundaries threading through your hazy thoughts. quickly, you scramble off him, retreating to the floor as you lean back against the couch, putting a safe distance between you.

“boundaries,” you murmur under your breath, though you’re not sure if the word is meant for him or yourself.

baekhyun sits up slowly, watching you with an unreadable expression. he doesn’t press, but the way his gaze lingers makes your heart race all the same. the game continues to play on the tv, but neither of you reaches for your controllers. the moment hangs in the air, charged with something unspoken, something neither of you dares to name.

the tension in the room lingers like a static charge, neither of you quite meeting the other’s eyes. you clear your throat softly, fingers brushing against the switch controller as you pick it up in an effort to shift the mood. “what other game should we play?” you ask, forcing a casual tone that doesn’t quite mask the slight waver in your voice.

baekhyun sits up straighter on the couch, running a hand through his hair as he clears his throat. “i’ve got super smash bros. if you’re up for it?”

you glance at him, a skeptical frown tugging at your lips. “but i don’t know how to play.”

a low chuckle rumbles from his chest, his smile softening the sharp edges of his face. “don’t worry, i’ll teach you.”

before you can process his words, he shifts on the couch, sliding down to position himself directly behind you. his legs bracket your sides, and you feel the warmth of his knees pressing lightly against your hips. his arms come around yours, larger and steadier, as his hands settle over yours, guiding your fingers to the buttons on the controller.

the scent of his cologne envelops you, heady and intoxicating, a blend of something fresh and woodsy with just a hint of spice. it fills your senses, clouding your thoughts as his voice murmurs close to your ear. “okay, so this button’s for jumping, this one’s for attacks, and if you press these together, you’ll do a combo,” he explains, his breath brushing against your cheek with every word.

you nod mutely, trying—desperately—to focus on the screen. but it’s impossible when his presence is so overwhelming. his warmth seeps into you, his body practically melding with yours as he leans in closer to point out a move. the deep timbre of his voice wraps around you, lulling and steady, though you barely register the words.

your concentration falters when his hands shift slightly, fingers brushing yours with a lightness that sends shivers down your spine. you lean into him instinctively, unable to resist the pull of his proximity. the way his toned arms feel around you, the sheer size of him encompassing you, makes your breath hitch. his hands fit over yours with startling perfection, like they were always meant to be there.

you try to focus on the game—on the screen, the characters, the combos he’s patiently teaching you—but your attention keeps drifting back to him. the solid weight of his chest against your back, the way his head tilts to the side of yours as he gives instructions, the low hum of approval he lets out when you manage to execute a move correctly—it’s all too much and not enough all at once.

“got it?” he asks softly, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his tone as warm and inviting as the heat radiating off him.

you nod again, though you’re not sure if you’ve actually absorbed anything he’s said. all you know is that you wouldn’t mind losing this game—or maybe just playing forever—if it meant staying this close to him.

the rain patters softly against the windows, a rhythmic soundtrack to the dimly lit room. after a series of giggly super smash bros. matches and a few too many glasses of wine, you and baekhyun have settled into the couch, the comforting hum of twilight filling the cozy silence. the glow of the tv bathes you both in flickering shades of blue and gray, perfectly complementing the gentle storm outside.

your body leans into his, the warmth of his side a comforting cocoon that feels almost natural. the smell of his cologne mingles with the faint aroma of rain-soaked earth wafting in from the slightly cracked window. you drunkenly tilt your head up, meeting his gaze with a hazy, soft smile.

“hey, baekhyun,” you slur, hiccup punctuating your words as you clutch a throw pillow to your chest like a lifeline. “i know our situation sucks, but i just wanna say—hiccup—i wouldn’t wanna be in an arranged marriage with anyone else but you.”

baekhyun freezes for a split second, your words hitting him like the crack of lightning in the distance. his heart stutters, heat creeping up his neck, settling high on his cheeks. he hopes the alcohol in his system will serve as a good excuse if you notice. “oh, yeah? and why’s that, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice playful but laced with something deeper, something softer.

you blink up at him, your pupils wide and glassy from the wine. “because…” another hiccup interrupts you, making him chuckle. “i don’t think anyone gets me like you do. plus… you’re like, really, really, really cute.”

the melodic sound of your laughter sends a ripple of warmth through him, and he chuckles, shaking his head as his fingers reach out to pinch your flushed cheeks. “is that right, angel? well, you’re not so bad yourself,” he teases, though his touch lingers longer than necessary, his fingertips brushing against your skin with a tenderness he can’t quite explain.

your response is a soft yawn, your eyelids fluttering heavily as the wine begins to pull you under. “even though...” you trail off, your words slurring slightly, “even though our relationship is all but loveless.”

his smile falters, the weight of your words settling heavily between you. “you think so?” he asks finally, his voice quieter now, almost lost beneath the gentle patter of rain.

when no reply comes, he turns his head to find you leaning into him, your head resting softly on his shoulder, your breathing even and steady. 

you’ve fallen asleep.

for a moment, baekhyun simply sits there, his gaze fixed on the serene expression on your face. slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand rises, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. his fingertips linger, as if reluctant to break contact, and he swallows hard as he takes you in.

god, you’re breathtaking. even like this, in the quiet vulnerability of sleep, you manage to steal the air from his lungs.

the back of his hand grazes your cheek, marveling at the softness of your skin, so warm and delicate beneath his touch. he traces your features with his eyes, memorizing every curve and line, every tiny detail that makes you... you. and as he does, a thought strikes him with startling clarity:

was this your idea of ‘loveless’?

because if it was, baekhyun thinks he might be utterly fucked. he leans his head back against the couch, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his heart swells with something he can’t quite name. not yet, anyway.

the door swung open, revealing baekhyun’s mother with a warm smile that immediately reminded you of him. her eyes crinkled at the corners, just like her son’s did when he was particularly delighted. “hi there, love. to what do we owe the pleasure?”

you returned her smile with equal warmth, the kind that made you feel instantly welcomed. “i’m here to help you with the garden,” you explained as she gestured for you to step inside. “baekhyun mentioned he tries to come by when he’s free to lend a hand, but since he’s away on business, i thought i’d fill in for him.”

her smile deepened, a mix of surprise and fondness lighting up her expression. “well, aren’t you sweet?” she said, guiding you through the cozy hallway toward the backyard.

the next few hours flew by in a whirl of soil-streaked hands, shared laughter, and the satisfying rustle of newly planted magnolias settling into their beds. the air smelled of fresh earth and the faint sweetness of magnolia blooms, and the rhythmic sounds of gardening created a peaceful camaraderie between the two of you.

as you leaned back to admire your work, you wiped a streak of dirt from your cheek and grinned. “i think you and i make a pretty good team, mrs. byun,” you said, your voice light with satisfaction.

she handed you a glass of ice-cold lemonade, condensation beading down the sides. “please,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “call me ‘mom.’”

the word settled over you like a warm embrace, filling you with a mix of gratitude and quiet joy. you both sank onto the wooden bench, the same one where you and baekhyun had once come up with the terms of your arrangement. the breeze rustled the leaves around you, carrying with it a sense of peace.

unbeknownst to you, baekhyun stood at a distance, his chest still rising and falling from the turmoil that had gripped him on the car ride over. he hadn’t made his presence known, too entranced by the scene before him. the way you interacted with his mother—so effortlessly warm, so genuinely kind—made his chest ache in the most beautiful way. there you were, sitting side by side with her, your laughter weaving seamlessly with hers, the sunlight highlighting the pure happiness on your face. in that moment, his heart swelled with a clarity that caught him off guard: this was everything he had always dreamed of, yet never believed he deserved.

only an hour ago, baekhyun had stepped into the penthouse, the silence that greeted him heavier than usual. a chill ran through him as he called out your name, his voice unfamiliar in the vast, empty space. the echo bounced off the walls, but there was no answer. his heart rate quickened, unease settling in as he pulled out his phone and dialed your number. it rang once, then went straight to voicemail. his stomach twisted, and he tried again. same result. his chest tightened with frustration, and a wave of dread washed over him. where were you? why wasn’t there even a text?

he moved through the penthouse, each room colder than the last, trying to find any sign of where you might have gone. this isn’t like you, he thought, his pulse quickening. you wouldn’t just leave without saying anything.

desperation clawed at him as he headed toward the front desk, barely able to keep his voice steady. “did you see my fiancée leave earlier?” he asked, the urgency unmistakable in his tone.

the concierge nodded. “yes, sir. she mentioned she was heading to the byun estate.”

the words hit him like a punch to the gut. the byun estate. his parents’ house. no… she wouldn’t… his thoughts spiraled before he could stop them. what if she’s going there to call it off?

without another thought, he dashed out the door, the weight of his keys in his hand, his steps quick and heavy with panic. the drive felt endless, the world outside the car a blur as his mind raced with one horrifying thought after another. what if she went to his parents’ to tell them she couldn’t go through with this?

his hands tightened on the steering wheel, the grip becoming almost painful. what if she changed her mind? what if after everything—after i let my guard down—she realized this wasn’t what she wanted? he could hear your voice in his head, calm and collected, as if you were preparing for this moment all along. i can’t do this, baekhyun. this marriage, this life with you—it’s not for me.

he swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in his throat. no. no, this can’t be happening. she’s not like that. she wouldn’t do that to me… to us. but the thought kept gnawing at him, tearing through his mind. what if she’s already with my parents, telling them everything i’ve been dreading?

the drive felt like it stretched on forever, each passing second amplifying his fear. i can’t lose her, he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. i wouldn’t survive it. she can’t leave. i have to make her see that this… that i’m worth it. that we’re worth it.

his thoughts kept looping back to that moment, the drunken night just days ago, when everything felt so right. maybe she was just drunk, he thought bitterly. maybe when she sobers up, she’ll realize it was all just a mistake. maybe she’s already realized it was too much too soon. that she never wanted this—never wanted me.

he shook his head, trying to force the thoughts away, but they kept coming, relentless and cold. i should have seen it sooner. she’s too good for me. she deserves someone who isn’t so messed up. someone who doesn’t have this baggage. his grip on the wheel tightened, the tension in his body coiling like a spring. i have to stop her. i have to talk to her. if she’s really at my parents’ place, i have to go there and make her see she’s making a mistake. i’ll do anything to make her stay. anything.

baekhyun’s car screeched to a halt in front of the byun estate, the tires skimming across the gravel as he threw the door open and rushed out without a second thought. his heart pounded in his chest, still racing from the drive over, the fear that had gripped him momentarily lingering like a heavy weight in his stomach.

his eyes scanned the sprawling estate, the large mansion looming in the distance, its windows glowing softly in the fading light of the day. the manicured gardens stretched out before him, the serenity of the place almost mocking his anxiety. his footsteps quickened as he made his way toward the back of the estate, where the garden bloomed under the last remnants of sunlight. he felt a sense of urgency, like he needed to see you. needed to know you were okay.

as he turned the corner, his eyes locked onto a familiar sight—a wooden bench tucked beneath a large willow tree. the same bench you and he had shared when you first met, your laughter filling the air, the weight of your arranged marriage contract hovering over both of you like a dark cloud.

but this time, you sat beside his mother, both of you engaged in a soft conversation, the tranquility of the garden around you both at odds with the storm that had been raging inside baekhyun’s mind just moments ago. he froze for a moment, his chest loosening as relief washed over him. you were here, safe. and his mother, of all people, was with you.

you looked up just then, your eyes catching his from across the garden. your gaze softened as a faint smile touched your lips, and you greeted him warmly. “oh, hey,” you called out, the sound of your voice pulling him from his thoughts. “i remember you telling me how much you’ve wanted to help your mom with the garden but haven’t had the time. so, i decided to come out here and give her a hand…how’d you know i was here?”

baekhyun couldn’t help but smile in return, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—something that still wasn’t quite settled. “concierge,” he replied, his voice still a little shaky. “they told me you came out here.”

he didn’t say a word about the panic that had gripped him just moments ago, nor did he mention the relentless stream of worst-case scenarios that had plagued his mind. his chest still tightened with the ghost of that fear, each breath a reminder of the stress he’d barely managed to keep at bay. the drive from your shared penthouse in the city to the byun estate had always been a tense, traffic-heavy 30 minutes at best.

baekhyun made it in 15.

you tilted your head, a little guilty smile creeping up on your face. “sorry, i left my phone inside the house. i just wanted to help your mom out here in the garden,” you explained, your voice soft and casual.

baekhyun nodded slowly, his expression calm, though it did little to mask the wave of relief washing over him. you were here—here with his mom, safe and sound. not walking away from him. not trying to end the engagement. the thought eased the tension in his shoulders, his posture softening almost imperceptibly. yet, the weight of everything unsaid lingered in the air, heavy and unyielding, filling the quiet spaces between your shared smiles.

“you okay, baek?” you asked, your voice soft, but the question carried an undercurrent of something more. “y’look a little... shaken up. somethin’ happen at work?”

baekhyun hesitated, his mind whirling, torn between the urge to spill everything—the turmoil, the storm of emotions he’d battled on the drive here, the realization that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want this engagement to be the cold, transactional thing he’d always thought it would be. but the words wouldn’t come. not yet.

he forced a laugh, brushing it off as if it were nothing. “huh? oh…no. nothing,” he said, his voice light, but it was a lie, and you knew it. he could see the flicker of doubt in your eyes as you studied him, but to his relief, you didn’t press further.

before either of you could speak again, baekhyun’s mother emerged from the house, a soft smile on her face. “you two free for dinner?” she asked, her tone casual but warm, the invitation hanging in the air.

baekhyun blinked, his mind still spinning, but he quickly recovered. “sure,” he said, his voice betraying none of the tension that had been building inside him.

you echoed the same sentiment, though your voice was a little quieter, more reserved. “yeah, sure,” you agreed, not meeting his gaze as the three of you walked toward the house.

as you all made your way toward the house, baekhyun’s mind was still spinning, lost in thought. dinner passed in a quiet blur, his mother filling the space with stories of her day, her voice light and cheerful. she couldn’t stop talking about how much help you’d been in the garden, even joking that she might prefer you there from now on instead of baekhyun. the flickering candlelight on the table cast soft shadows across everyone’s faces, adding a warm, intimate glow to the scene. but baekhyun couldn’t focus on any of it. his thoughts kept drifting back to that bench, to the strange, unexpected relief that had flooded him when he saw you there, safe and sound, sitting beside his mother.

and you? you couldn’t shake the way baekhyun had looked when he first arrived, the way his eyes had scanned the garden, like he was searching for something—someone. the way he’d paused, almost frozen, when he saw you with his mother.

you swallowed the thought, pushing it down, knowing better than to entertain the idea. no, you told yourself, he doesn’t see me like that. i’m just a part of this arrangement. nothing more.

but as the night wore on, you couldn’t help but wonder what baekhyun was really thinking. what had been so wrong when he arrived? and why did you feel like maybe, just maybe, the whole evening was off-kilter in a way you couldn’t quite explain?

but for now, you buried it, pushing aside the questions that were starting to form in your mind. you had your role to play, just like he had his. this arrangement wasn’t about feelings. you knew that.

the weeks leading up to the wedding flew by in a blur, each day slipping through your fingers faster than the last. things between you and baekhyun were... tense. not in an openly hostile way—no, you were still good friends, still made time for your weekly dinner dates to catch up on each other’s lives. but there was a subtle shift in the air between you, an unspoken tension that neither of you seemed ready to address.

conversations you wanted to have with him—about your feelings, your fears, and everything in between—remained locked away, tucked behind a wall of hesitation. he was so polite, so considerate, his actions speaking louder than words ever could. every day, he brought you lunch without fail, and every vase in the house seemed to overflow with fresh flowers, their petals a vibrant reminder of his quiet devotion. yet, he never explained why he did these things, and you never asked. deep down, you were too afraid of the answer, terrified that it might be nothing more than a courteous gesture—something he did out of obligation, not affection.

but what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t see—was just how deeply you were affecting byun baekhyun. to him, you weren’t just the poised, untouchable princess of the nation’s largest real estate empire. you were his undoing. he never expected you to mean so much, never imagined that he would crave your presence, your laughter, the soft cadence of your voice, the way he did now.

night after sleepless night, he found himself consumed by thoughts of you. wondering if you ever thought of him too, if you liked the flowers, if you looked forward to the lunches he brought you. he worried they might be too much, too obvious, yet couldn’t bring himself to stop. ever since the day you quite literally fell into his arms at the byun estate, you had taken root in his heart, growing deeper with every passing moment. you were all he could think about, the one constant in his mind as the wedding loomed closer, a promise of something he both feared and desperately wanted: you.

the soft hum of conversation fills the air at the rehearsal dinner, a melody of clinking glasses, polite laughter, and the occasional burst of chatter. the room is a picture of understated elegance, bathed in the golden glow of chandeliers and warmed by the aroma of fine wine. you stand at the bar, the edge of your glass cool against your fingers as you sip your drink. the warmth of the crowd surrounds you, yet it does little to ease the faint nervousness coiling in the pit of your stomach. tomorrow is the day—the culmination of everything that has led you here. still, an unshakable weight lingers at the back of your mind, refusing to be ignored.

you’re lost in thought when you feel a presence at your side. instinctively, you turn, and there she is—aya. her smile is wide, perfect, and practiced, a masterclass in effortless poise. she looks stunning, of course. her gown hugs her frame flawlessly, her hair swept into an elegant style, and her makeup is immaculate, enhancing her already striking features. she exudes the kind of beauty that commands attention, but tonight, it feels almost oppressive, as though her glow casts your own into shadow.

“hi there, mrs. byun,” she says, her voice honeyed but with an undertone you can’t quite place—sharp and deliberate, like the edge of a blade hidden beneath silk. “congratulations on tomorrow. you and baekhyun must be thrilled.”

her words are pleasant, but something about the way she says them sends a ripple of unease through you. still, you muster a polite smile, swallowing the knot forming in your throat. “thank you,” you reply, your tone carefully measured as you meet her gaze. “we’re looking forward to it.”

yet even as the words leave your lips, a tension hangs between you, unspoken and unacknowledged, but undeniable all the same.

aya’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s something unsettling about the glint in her eyes as she leans in, just enough to make the air between you feel charged. “you know,” she murmurs, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone, as if she’s about to share a closely guarded secret, “baekhyun and i... we were together for a long time.” she pauses, her gaze sliding briefly to where baekhyun stands, engrossed in conversation with a group of guests. when her eyes return to you, they’re sharper, like the edge of a blade. “he was always so devoted to his family. so when they arranged this marriage,” she continues, her words pointed, deliberate, “he didn’t have much of a choice, did he?”

your heart stumbles in your chest, confusion and unease twisting together in your stomach. the words feel wrong, their weight designed to settle under your skin and sprout doubt. you take a measured breath, willing yourself to stay composed. “i’m not sure what you’re trying to say, aya,” you respond, your voice steady but laced with a cautious edge.

aya’s lips curl into a small, almost pitying smile, the kind that feels more like a taunt than an expression of sympathy. for a brief moment, her gaze softens, feigning sincerity, as though she’s letting you in on some harsh reality. “oh, sweetie,” she says, shaking her head with a sigh that feels too practiced, her tone syrupy-sweet, “don’t you see? that’s why he ended things with me. it was never about us. it was about his family. about what they wanted. why do you think he was late the first day you two met? he was with me.”

the impact of her words hits you like a slap, leaving a sting that spreads through your chest. your breath hitches, the room closing in on you, walls seeming to press tighter with each passing second. each syllable she utters piles onto the weight of doubt she’s so expertly planting in your mind.

your thoughts race, replaying the memory of that day. baekhyun had been late, his father brushing it off as work. but now, her words weave an unsettling narrative, one that chills you to the bone. could there have been more to his tardiness? had he really been with her? the mere suggestion sends a shiver down your spine, your world tilting as her voice continues to echo, cold and unrelenting.

you struggle to keep your composure, but the unease coiled in your stomach tightens with every moment. aya’s gaze sharpens, her eyes glittering with something like triumph. she knows she’s struck a nerve, and the satisfied curl of her lips only confirms it.

"baekhyun is a good man," she says, her voice laced with honeyed malice. "but he’s always been bound by duty, by what’s expected of him. tomorrow, when you’re standing at that altar, you’ll see—he’s made his choice. but don’t forget, he’ll always be the man who follows orders."

the venom in her words cuts deep, and for a moment, your confidence wavers. you want to retort, to shut her down with a sharp reply, but your tongue feels heavy, your thoughts tangled in doubt and questions you don’t dare voice.

aya leans back, studying you like a predator admiring its prey. her smile grows, syrupy sweet and razor-sharp. "well," she drawls, feigning disinterest as she delivers her final blow, "you might be his bride, but i was his first. and i always will be."

her words linger in the air like poison, and before you can summon a response, she turns and walks away, leaving a suffocating silence in her wake.

you stand frozen, her parting shot reverberating in your mind, sinking deep into your chest. a chill creeps over you, settling into your bones. you try to shake it off, but her words cling stubbornly, wrapping around your thoughts like a shadow that refuses to dissipate.

you don’t doubt her entirely—that’s the worst part. baekhyun has always been driven by duty, just like you. both of you trapped in a web of familial expectations, navigating a path neither of you truly chose.

but lately… hasn’t something shifted between you? there’s a weight between you two now, an unspoken understanding that feels as delicate as it is undeniable. the way his touch lingers when he brushes past you, the stolen glances that speak volumes, the ease with which your lives have intertwined—it’s all there, simmering beneath the surface.

yet, for all the moments that have sparked warmth in your chest, neither of you has dared to name it. the words remain unspoken, locked away behind fear and uncertainty. you haven’t even let yourself truly think about what this could be, too afraid of what it might mean—or worse, what it might not.

then there’s aya’s conversation—sharp, sudden, and cutting through your peace like a thunderclap. her words echo in your mind, relentless and unforgiving, forcing you to question everything. baekhyun. the same baekhyun who had always been known for his flirtatious charm, a man who thrived on the thrill of the chase. you never once thought he would string you along like this—but what if he was?

the possibility coils in your stomach, tight and nauseating. surely, he wouldn’t… right? he couldn’t be the type of man to do that to you. not baekhyun. not the man who brought you lunch every day and filled your home with flowers. and yet, the doubt lingers, growing heavier with each passing second. could he?

the room feels unsteady, spinning around you as you reach out to steady yourself against the bar. your fingers tighten around the cool glass in your hand, grounding you just enough to keep from tipping over. tomorrow is your wedding day. the words sound surreal even in your own mind, a reminder of just how quickly the world feels like it’s slipping away from you.

in the quiet left after aya’s departure, you’re alone with your thoughts—raw, messy, and unraveling. everything you thought you knew, everything you believed about baekhyun, about you together, now hangs in fragile uncertainty.

the soft hum of the refrigerator filled the penthouse, a quiet contrast to the chatter and clinking glasses of the rehearsal dinner only hours ago. the tension from earlier hadn’t dissipated. instead, it seemed to have followed you home, settling like a heavy fog in the air.

you stood in the kitchen, barefoot, wrapped in the soft folds of a robe, the faint glow of the under-cabinet lights casting warm shadows across your figure. the sight of you like this—so closed off, so different from the usual warmth that radiated from you—made baekhyun’s stomach twist. something was wrong; he could feel it.

and then it hit him. the robe. not one of his sweaters, not the familiar fabric he’d come to associate with you over the past few months.

since he’d moved in, baekhyun had made a habit of leaving his sweaters scattered around the penthouse—casually draped over chairs or conveniently left on the couch. part of him hoped, no, yearned, for the day you’d pick one up and claim it as your own. the first time it happened, he’d walked into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks.

you were curled up on the couch, nestled in one of baekhyun’s oversized sweaters, and the sight alone was enough to undo him. the fabric draped over your frame like it was made for you, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, and the hem just barely brushing the tops of your thighs. it teased him with the smallest hint of the shorts you wore underneath—so short they may as well not have existed.

baekhyun stood frozen in the doorway, his breath hitching as the image seared itself into his brain. he felt his heart lurch, his pulse racing wildly in his chest. you looked so soft, so effortless, and yet so devastatingly alluring all at once. he barely managed to mumble some excuse before disappearing into his room, the ache in his chest quickly migrating lower, leaving him throbbing and desperate for relief.

he leaned back against the closed door, his breaths shallow and uneven, as his hand slid down to press against his growing arousal. the image of you—so cozy, so unknowingly tempting in his sweater—flashed through his mind, and he groaned, his head falling back against the door.

how would your lips feel pressed against his? would they be as soft and addictive as he imagined? fuck, how would you feel around him—tight, warm, and perfect, pulling him in until he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began? would your skin be as silky as it looked, begging for his hands to map every inch?

the thought of you shivering beneath his touch sent a shiver down his own spine. would you sigh his name, barely audible, or moan it like a plea? worse still, did you ever think of him the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you?

did you lie awake at night, your hands wandering across your body, imagining it was him instead? his fingers grazing over your curves, his mouth claiming every inch of you, his name a breathless chant on your lips.

baekhyun’s hand tightened around himself at the thought, his breath hitching as he imagined you lost in your own desire, your thoughts tangled with his. were you doing it now? were you picturing him the same way he was picturing you—completely undone, raw, and desperate for something only the other could give?

his chest heaved, the intensity of it all consuming him as he gave into the fantasy, the line between what was real and imagined blurring in the haze of his need for you.

the questions spun in his head, unrelenting, as he cursed under his breath, fisting his cock as his imagination betrayed him further. the thought of your scent mixing with his, your fingers tangled in his hair, the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him—all of it came crashing down at once, pulling him over the edge far too quickly.

but it wasn’t enough. not nearly enough.

he clenched his jaw, his breathing still ragged, and let the thoughts creep back in. he closed his eyes, imagining the way you might whimper his name, the way your body might arch into his touch, the taste of your lips if he finally gave in.

and so he did it again. and again. every time, it was something different. your laughter muffled against his neck, your nails scraping down his back, the sound of his name spilling from your lips as you unraveled beneath him. each thought left him more undone than the last, and by the time the evening was over, baekhyun knew one thing for certain: he was utterly, irrevocably fucked.

and now, here you are in the kitchen. but not in one of his sweaters. the absence was glaring, a quiet confirmation of the distance that had crept between you. he hated how much it affected him, how much he craved the sight of you wrapped up in something that was his. it wasn’t just about the way you looked—it was what it represented.

fuck, you were perfect. and the thought of losing you? unbearable.

the stem of a half-full wine glass balanced delicately between your fingers. the faint glow of the under-cabinet lights cast a warm hue over you, but your expression was anything but at ease.

baekhyun watched you from the hallway, his own unease growing with every passing second. you had been distant all evening, your laughter at dinner feeling muted, your smiles strained. he had tried to brush it off, assuming it was just pre-wedding jitters, but now, seeing you like this—alone, nursing a drink with your head bowed—it was clear something was wrong.

he approached slowly, the padding of his socked feet barely making a sound against the cool floor. “what’s wrong, sweetheart?” his voice was gentle but laced with concern, breaking the silence like a fragile thread snapping.

you flinched slightly, startled by his presence, before turning to face him. “nothing,” you murmured, your gaze dropping back to the wine.

“don’t do that,” he said softly, taking a step closer. “don’t shut me out. not now. please.”

the vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten, and before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out. “i talked to aya earlier.”

baekhyun stilled, his brows furrowing as a pang of nervousness rippled through him. “you did? what did she say?”

you let out a bitter laugh, swirling the wine in your glass as the weight of the words hung in the air. “she said you’re still the same baekhyun—the flirt, the guy who thrives on the chase. the one who prioritizes duty over his heart. and maybe… maybe you’re just stringing me along, too.”

the silence that followed was suffocating, pressing down on baekhyun’s chest like an unbearable weight. his throat tightened as the words hung in the air, unfinished and unresolved. “and you believe her?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though even the smallest sound might shatter the fragile moment between you.

“i don’t know what to believe,” you confessed, the tremor in your voice betraying the storm of doubt crashing through you. “i feel so stupid. i should’ve known better. i should’ve—”

“stop.” his voice cracked, cutting through your self-reproach with a sharpness that made your heart ache. he took a step forward, his eyes locked onto yours, desperate to pull you back from the edge of the abyss. “don’t do this to yourself, sweetheart. don’t let her words get inside your head."

you shook your head, the tears threatening to fall now, your gaze flickering away before finally meeting his. “baekhyun, we promised each other something the first time we met. we said we’d let each other choose. no expectations. no pressure.” your voice faltered, thick with emotion as you sucked in a shaky breath. “so… i’m telling you to choose her.”

the words hit him like a fist to the chest. his world seemed to collapse in an instant, the ground beneath him cracking as his breath caught in his throat. “what?” he whispered, his voice breaking with a mixture of disbelief and pain.

“choose her, baekhyun,” you repeated, your tears falling now, each drop heavier than the last. “if she’s what you really want, if this is all just some game to you, then—”

“no.” the word came out sharp, jagged, and so forceful that it seemed to stop time itself. his eyes blazed with raw intensity as he stepped toward you, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. “don’t say that. don’t you dare say that.”

“baekhyun—”

“i choose you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion, raw and desperate. “i’ve already chosen you. over and over again, every single day. you’re the only thing i want, the only thing i need.” his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes burning with a sincerity that you could feel deep in your bones. “i love you. not her, not anyone else. you. just you.”

the words hit you like a wave, but the storm in your chest only grew stronger. tears spilled down your cheeks as you searched his face, looking for the truth you were afraid to find, but there was still doubt, still that gnawing uncertainty eating away at you.

“baekhyun… you don’t mean that.” your voice cracked, each word tasting like bitterness and fear. “you’re probably saying all of this because of your duty to your family, your obligation to this arranged marriage. you’re just confused. you’ve probably mistaken convenience for love. you’ve spent your whole life following expectations, following orders, and now you’re just trying to convince yourself this is what you truly want.”

the weight of your words hung between you, like a wall that neither of you could break through. his grip on your face tightened, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek, but there was something in his eyes now, something flickering between hurt and frustration.

“no,” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper but fierce. “no, that’s not it. i’m not doing this because of them. i’m doing this because of you, sweetheart.” his forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. “you’re not just some obligation. i’ve never felt anything like this before, and i don’t need to convince myself of anything.”

as he spoke, the tight knot of doubt inside you slowly began to unravel. his voice was steady yet raw, every word steeped in sincerity, and his eyes, filled with something so deep and vulnerable, made it harder to hold onto the skepticism. the warmth of his touch, the way he held you as if he never wanted to let go, all of it made you want to believe him. you wanted to be the one he chose, even if the world had already made that choice for him. you wanted to believe that despite everything—the pressure, the expectations—he truly saw you as more than a duty, more than a predetermined path.

but the fear still lingered in your chest. could it really be that simple? could you truly be the one he wanted, or was this just the pull of something he couldn’t escape?

“please,” he whispered, his voice breaking, the raw emotion in his words almost too much to bear. his hands gripped your shoulders, as if holding onto his last shred of hope. “choose me. like i choose you. please.”

the plea shattered your resolve, and the walls you’d so carefully constructed around your heart crumbled at the weight of his words. a choked sob escaped you, the sound raw and unfiltered, as the floodgates you’d held shut for so long finally broke open. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, pressing you against his chest like he was afraid to lose you, his forehead resting gently against yours.

“i love you, sweetheart,” he whispered again, his voice trembling with the depth of his desperation, the intensity of his longing. “ever since you fell into my arms that first day we met. only you. always you.”

the words washed over you, each one sinking into your soul, filling the empty spaces you hadn’t even realized were there. for the first time, you let yourself believe him. you let the fear, the doubt, slip away, and in that moment, all that mattered was the sincerity in his eyes, the weight of his love pressing against you like an anchor.

“i choose you,” you whispered back, your voice shaky but unwavering, the truth finally breaking free. “i love you, too, baekhyun.”

he let out a shuddering breath, his body trembling as if the very air around you both was too heavy to breathe. his grip on you tightened, desperate, as if he were afraid that if he loosened his hold for even a second, you would slip away. “thank you,” he murmured, his lips brushed against your temple, his voice a soft, shaky murmur as he whispered, “thank you.”

he holds you tighter, as if he’s afraid to let go, and when he speaks again, his face inches from yours, you feel the raw intensity of his gaze as it darts across your features, memorizing every detail. it’s like he’s drinking you in, savoring the moment, as if this is a gift he might never receive again.

“i hope you realize you’ve had me from the very first moment i saw you,” he murmurs, his voice low, thick with emotion. his eyes linger on your lips, tracing the shape of them as if they’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. “i…i love you, sweetheart,” he breathes, his words barely above a whisper, but they resonate deep within you. “everything about you… i knew from the start, you were the one.” his words carry weight, a promise, an undeniable truth, as if the universe had led him straight to you, and he’d known all along that you were meant to be.

“i love you, too, baekhyun,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but full of undeniable truth. “more than i ever thought was possible, more than i knew i could feel.” each word slips from your lips like a secret you've been holding for far too long, a confession so deep, so raw, it shakes you to your very core.

his lips find yours before you can even make sense of what’s happening. the kiss starts soft, hesitant, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile between you. his lips are warm and inviting, a spark that ignites deep inside you, and for a brief moment, everything goes still.

before you can even gather your thoughts or respond, he pulls back, leaving you breathless, only to press his lips to yours once more, this time with a little more urgency. the kisses are quick, almost frantic, a series of soft, eager pecks that blur together in a whirlwind of sensation. again and again, his lips find yours, each kiss a whisper of something deeper, something you can’t quite put into words, as if he's trying to convey everything he feels with the simplest of touches.

and then again, and again, until you’re lost in the rhythm of it, consumed by the intensity of the moment. each kiss builds upon the last, leaving you dizzy with desire, yet never enough to satiate the growing hunger between you both.

baekhyun’s lips brush softly against your eyelids, a whisper of a kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. "i love you," he breathes, the words almost reverent, as if he's offering a piece of his very soul. he kisses your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips, each kiss a promise, a declaration that sinks deep into your chest. "i love you, i love you, i love you." the words crack and strain, coming from a place that’s raw and vulnerable, tearing from his chest in broken, desperate gasps. it’s unmistakably baekhyun—his voice, that familiar warmth—but there’s something new in it now, something that tugs at the very core of you.

his arms—strong, urgent—wrap around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. when did they even get there? the thought flits across your mind, hazy and distant, but it’s immediately replaced by the feel of him, solid and steady against you. your body pressed so close you can feel his heartbeat syncing with yours.

his hands slide into your hair, fingers threading through it with a tenderness that feels almost too gentle for the intensity of the moment. he tilts your head back, and his lips find yours again—slow, unhurried, like he’s savoring every second, every inch of you. the kiss deepens, and it feels as if time itself has slowed. neither of you wants to break it, to let the moment slip away.

you respond instinctively, your fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him even closer, your body aching to feel more of him. his lips trace a heated path down your jaw, grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck. each kiss, each touch sends a shock of electricity racing through you, like your body has been waiting, anticipating, for this exact moment. you’ve been holding your breath, just waiting for him to pull you under his spell—and now he has.

without a second thought, you stumble back onto the couch, the plush cushions sinking under your weight as baekhyun follows, a shadow of heat and intent. how the two of you made it from the kitchen to here is a blur, lost in the haze of mounting desire. it doesn’t matter. not when his hands grip your hips with a commanding firmness, steady and unyielding, like he’s anchoring you to him.

your legs settle on either side of his lap, your bodies pressed so closely that the line between you feels blurred. the hard evidence of his growing arousal presses against your clothed core, igniting a fire that spreads through every nerve. the proximity, the shared warmth, the maddening friction—it’s nearly unbearable. your skin tingles, your pulse races in your throat, and your thoughts dissolve into a heady anticipation that leaves you breathless and aching for more.

you can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the way his touch sets your body alight. the air between you both is thick with desire, and you know there’s no turning back now.

“fuck,” he starts, voice raspy and thick with want, “i’ve been dreaming about this since i first seen you in my sweater, y’know? ya look so sexy in my clothes. probably jerked off at least five times that night at the thought of you.”

a soft moan slips from your lips at his confession, and in that moment, he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his mouth pressing against yours with a hunger that matches your own. his hands trail down your back, fingers sliding over the curve of your spine, pulling you closer, closer still, as if he’s trying to merge with you completely. your heart races, the world around you fading into the background as all your senses narrow to him—his warmth, his touch, the way his body fits against yours so perfectly, so desperately. every movement, every touch ignites something deep inside you, a heat that spreads through your veins, overwhelming every thought, every rational part of you. 

nothing else matters—not the day ahead, not the vows you’ll soon make—it’s just him, and the fire between you both.

“s-show me what you’ve been dreaming about, baek,” you gasp, your body trembling as your mind spins in a haze of anticipation. his words ignite something primal inside you—a raw, uncontrollable fire that mirrors the heat building in his touch. the warmth of his chest presses against yours, the erratic rhythm of his breath matching the frantic beat of your heart. you can’t fight it any longer, that longing, that deep hunger that pulses through both of you, an undeniable pull.

“are ya sure?” his voice is low, thick with desire, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt, any trace of hesitation. his gaze burns into you, as if he needs your confirmation to proceed.

you nod, your fingers grasping the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer until there’s no space left between you. “yes, baby, i’m sure.”

with that, he sweeps you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly as if you weigh nothing. you’re helpless in his grasp, consumed by the fire building between you both since the very first time you met. his lips are desperate against yours as he carries you to his bedroom, the world outside fading into nothing. it’s just you and him, and the heat that’s been simmering, waiting to boil over.

he gently lays you down onto his silk covers, and before you can breathe, his lips are on yours again, crashing into you with a hunger that burns through you. his hands move over your body, each touch sending waves of desire crashing over you, making it feel like you’re losing control. your breath hitches as his fingertips trail over your skin, igniting a fire so deep within you, you can no longer ignore it.

baekhyun pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting, the air thick with the weight of the moment. “i hope ya know, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice husky, desperate, “’m never lettin’ you go.”

you smile, your lips curling into something both playful and full of longing. “wouldn’t want ya to,” you murmur before pulling him back in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that consumes everything around you.

the air between you and baekhyun crackles with electricity as his lips find yours again. there’s no hesitation this time, just the desperate hunger of two people who have waited long enough. his kiss is tender yet demanding, a perfect rhythm that matches the frantic beat of your heart. you sink into it, melting against him as if your bodies were always meant to fit together this way. the way your lips move in sync, effortlessly, like a dance neither of you has ever learned but somehow both know.

each kiss feels like a promise, a pledge of everything that’s been building between you. he pulls you closer, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a suffocating embrace, and you respond in kind, your hands reaching to tug at his shirt. the fabric slides off his shoulders, revealing the smoothness of his skin, the muscles that flex with every movement, and you can’t help but trace your fingers over him, exploring, memorizing.

baekhyun’s hands find their way to your robe, fingers teasing the skin just above your waist before he tugs it off, his lips never leaving yours, as if this moment—the connection, the heat, the growing need—is the only thing that matters. the fabric gives way, sliding off your body with ease, and you feel exposed, vulnerable, but somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

his hands move to your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease, and you feel the rush of cool air against your skin as it falls away. the vulnerability stirs something deep inside you, but it’s not fear—it’s desire, the kind of desire that has been simmering between you both for far too long. baekhyun’s touch is reverent as his hands slide over you, exploring the curves of your body like he’s memorizing every inch, every contour. his lips break away from yours just for a moment, and you find yourself gasping for air, your chest rising and falling with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat.

“god, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice raw and filled with awe. but there’s no time to respond, because his lips are back on yours in an instant. you’re left in nothing but your underwear, and his gaze traces over your body like a hungry fire, as if he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.

the tension between you both is unbearable, but you need this—need him, all of him. his hands move to your thighs, sliding your underwear off with slow, deliberate care, his eyes never leaving yours. and when your bodies are finally bare before each other, the world outside disappears completely. 

baekhyun’s lips meet yours again, this time with a rawness, a desperation that matches the intensity of your own. the kiss is a perfect dance, one that neither of you leads but somehow both of you follow, giving in to the rhythm of each other’s breath, each other’s touch. his hands caress your skin, the heat between you growing with every inch, every second that passes. 

his gaze locks with yours, a look of intent and hunger in his eyes, and you feel your breath hitch in your chest. his hands slide down your legs slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every inch of your skin. he kisses you once more, softly, lingering against your lips, before trailing down your jaw, your neck, and lower still, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses that leave you shivering with anticipation.

when he reaches your thighs, his hands gently part your legs, the touch so tender it sends a wave of heat through your entire body. his lips graze the skin of your inner thigh, warm and soft, and you gasp at the contrast of his gentle kiss against the intensity of the moment. he doesn’t rush; he takes his time, savoring the moment, as if he’s memorizing the feeling of you beneath him, so close, yet just out of reach.

each kiss is slow, deliberate, a soft, wet press of his lips that leaves a trail of warmth in its wake. he moves lower, kissing along the sensitive skin, each touch sparking a shudder that runs through your body. his breath is warm against your skin, mingling with the subtle scent of desire that hangs between you. baekhyun’s lips brush the sensitive area just below your hip, and you can’t help but squirm under the sensation, your body instinctively responding to the way he’s mapping you out, with gentle, teasing touches.

his kisses are adoring, like each one is a silent promise to worship you, to love you completely. his hands gently press against the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer as he plants soft, wet kisses closer to the center of you. the heat of his mouth against your skin makes your pulse quicken, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to continue. he doesn’t rush, though, drawing out each moment until you feel like you might explode with anticipation, your body aching for him to go further, to lose himself in you.

you can't help the frustration that builds inside you as baekhyun continues his teasing, his lips hovering just out of reach, his touch soft but never quite enough. your patience is wearing thin, and the heat in your body makes it hard to think clearly.

“baek…” you whisper, voice thick with need, your breath shaky as you reach out, your fingers trembling as they brush against his chest. “stop bein’ a tease.”

his eyes gleam with mischief, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leans in closer, brushing his lips against yours, just barely, and you feel your pulse spike in response.

“what’s the matter, sweetheart?” baekhyun murmurs, his voice low, teasing, the words slipping from his lips like silk, sending a shiver down your spine. he inches closer, his gaze locked on yours, and you can feel the playful tension crackling in the air. “don’t ya like the way i’m takin’ my time?”

your breath catches in your throat as you bite your lip, the words heavy with desire. “y’know i need m-more,” you pout, your voice soft but unmistakable, your eyes locking onto his with a pleading intensity. “please, baek.”

his smile widens, a flash of something deeper crossing his face—something darker, possessive—his eyes never leaving yours. there’s a glint of knowing amusement in his gaze, and his next words are laced with quiet hunger. “you want more, angel?”

you nod, your chest rising and falling rapidly, each breath shaky with the heat of longing. your body trembles beneath the weight of his gaze, every inch of you alive with need, aching for him.

baekhyun chuckles softly, the sound rich and thick with desire. “whatever my princess wants, she gets,” he murmurs, his voice a low promise that sends a wave of anticipation crashing through you. then, with deliberate slowness, he presses his lips to your core.

one taste of your sweetness, your core pressed against his lips, and baekhyun couldn't fathom pulling away. his tongue glides in long, slow strokes, savoring the tender, swollen folds of your most intimate part, the wetness from your heat pooling in the most sinful way. each lick is languid, deliberate, as if he's trying to drink you in completely, unable to resist the intoxicating flavor that’s all you.

the sensation of you on his tongue has him tugging desperately at the tent in his pants, a rhythm to match the movement of his mouth as he rubs himself with a frantic urgency.

his tastebuds graze the very edges of your trembling skin, teasing circles around the delicate, slick folds, his tongue tracing every inch of your inner thighs as they quiver beneath him, drenched with your desire.

“b-baek,” you moan, the sound so low, drawn out, each breath coming out in a throaty gasp. the sound of your pleasure stirs something wild in him, his blood rushing, pooling painfully in his aching cock. “fuck—just like that.”

your gaze locks with his, eyes glazed and heavy, and he feels like he might collapse. a groan escapes him, his body pressing into yours as he moans against your warmth. “tell me—fuck, tell me what you want, sweetheart. anything.” your body arches instinctively toward him, craving his touch as he teases between your folds, barely brushing against the sensitive bud of your clit. “everything. anything for you.”

“you,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the overwhelming pleasure from his mouth consumes you. every deliberate stroke of his tongue feels like fire, igniting every nerve, and you can already feel yourself unraveling under his touch. he devours you like a man who has known nothing but hunger, each movement more desperate than the last. “want you,” you manage between gasps, your words spilling out like a confession. “only you. only ever you.”

with that, his mouth opens wider, and you slide effortlessly over him, your thighs straddling his face. so close. so messy. his tongue moves with determined force, sliding from the very base of your pussy up to your quivering entrance.

“fuck—” you whine, your hips grinding up against his mouth as he wraps his lips around your clit, dragging his tongue in heated, syrupy circles. it's not gentle, but it's exactly what you need. “don’t—don’t stop, feels too good—”

you aren’t sure if he hears you, hell, you aren’t sure if baekhyun’s even breathing at this point.

“fuck- fuck fuck fuck— baek!” you're slurring your words, breathless and frantic, hands gripping his head as you ride out your high, soaking baekhyun's pretty, pretty face. and he lets you—fuck, he lets you. “shit, feel so good—m’cumming-”

baekhyun is relentless, his mouth and tongue moving in perfect sync, keeping you on the edge as you ride out your high. every flick, every suck draws out more, leaving you trembling in his grip. the overstimulation makes you gasp, a sharp jolt of sensitivity racing through you. you push his head away, breath ragged, as he presses one final, wet kiss against your trembling core.

your breath is still uneven, chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale as you slowly come down from your high. he crawls back up to you, his presence overwhelming, and when he leans down to kiss you again, it feels like he's stealing the very air from your lungs. the taste of you on his lips sends a shock through your body, making your pulse race. for a moment, it feels like you're on the edge again, the sensation so intense that you wonder if you might just lose yourself all over again from the sheer intimacy of the kiss.

as his lips press against yours, you feel the undeniable hardness of his desire, straining against you through the thin fabric of his underwear. the sensation sends a rush of warmth through your body, and before you can stop yourself, a surge of boldness drives you to pull back from the kiss. with a quick motion, you slide your hand down, palming him through the soft fabric of his boxer briefs, earning a soft, breathy moan from him that sends a rush of heat straight to your core. the sound is pure music to your ears.

in one swift motion, you pull the fabric down, freeing him, the air between you thick with anticipation. your gaze drinks in every inch of him, from the long, thick length of his erection to the angry, rosy tip that leaks a steady stream of precum. the slick sheen of it catches the light, making your breath hitch in your throat. he’s impossibly large, and for a moment, you feel a mixture of longing and uncertainty deep in your chest. your thighs instinctively press together, the need building within you, even as you try to steady your racing heart. so impossibly beautiful, even like this.

“you're... bigger than i imagined, baek,” you murmur, almost to yourself, but the words escape anyway.

the moment the words slip from your lips, his dark smirk reappears, twisting his features with that signature confidence you've always recognized. “you imagined me?” his voice is soft, carrying an edge of something delicate that catches you off guard. but within seconds, the tone shifts, his words turning teasing as he adds, "who knew my little fiancée was such a perv?"

it hits you like a wave, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. for a split second, you feel a rush of shyness under his gaze. baekhyun notices the change instantly, his sharp eyes tracking every subtle shift in your demeanor, the flush of embarrassment practically radiating off you.

“aww, don't get shy on me now, princess,” he murmurs, his voice thick and husky as his fingers dig into your hips, possessiveness seeping through his touch, sending a shiver of excitement through you. “i've thought about this—how perfect you'd feel.” the weight of his words hangs in the air as he slowly pushes inside you, his length stretching you in a way that sends raw waves of pleasure coursing through your body. “imagined how tight and warm you'd be around me,” he groans, his breath heavy as he fills you completely. “and fuck, it’s better than anything i’d ever imagine.”

you gasp, struggling to adjust to his size, the sensation of him filling you overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. "y'feel s-so good, baek," you murmur, your body already aching for more, every inch of you burning with a craving so deep it makes your chest tighten. “w-want more. wanna be filled with you.”

he pulls out completely, a low, wicked chuckle escaping baekhyun as he hears the frustrated whine you let out in his absence, the tension building in your muscles as your legs tighten around his lean waist. his movements are slow and deliberate, teasing you as he presses his reddened, swollen tip directly against the peak of your sensitive clit, each SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! of the contact sending jolts of pleasure through your body. “just look at how drenched you are,” he murmurs, voice thick with both amusement and desire.

“baek—” your voice cracks, a honeyed, drawn-out whine slipping from your lips, shaky and desperate, making him twitch against you. the sound drives him wild, and you squirm under him, the sensation of his precum dripping in hot, sticky streams over your already-soaked folds making you burn with need. “won’t you just put it in alre—ah!”

he doesn’t make it easy, though. baekhyun is cruel in his teasing, easing just the curve of his fat tip past your gummy entrance. the stretch has your complaints dissolving into the sweetest whine he’s ever heard, a sound that seems to echo straight through him.

“hah—there we go,” he grits out, his voice a breathless mix of triumph and relief. his long fingers slide from gripping his thick shaft to grasping at your splayed-out thighs, spreading you wider for him. he makes you do all the work, though, your hips shifting desperately against the silken sheets to take him deeper. “ohhh yeah—oh my god, there we fuckin’ go—”

when your walls clamp down around him unexpectedly, it tears a raw, guttural groan from his throat. his head falls back, neck taut as baritone moans ripple from his chest. “yeah—ya were holding out on me, weren’t ya?” he breathes, a cocky grin splitting his flushed face. “didn’t know it could feel this good. feels like fuckin’ heaven, angel.”

his lips descend in a heady, heated kiss, one that’s more teeth and tongue than finesse, as he pants against your mouth, “could fuck this pretty pussy forever—” he drags his lips to your jaw, his voice dipping lower, “—could fuck a baby into ya.”

it feels like your pussy is utterly helpless, stretched wide around him, clinging desperately to every ridge and vein of his cock. each thrust presses that slight upward curve perfectly against the spongy depths of your core, spearing into your cervix like it was made to reach you. every drag and push paints slick, glossy strokes across your g-spot, wringing out wave after wave of bliss that leaves you trembling.

you were finally, finally being fucked by him.

and it’s overwhelming—maddening in the best way.

“s-shit.” his eyes lock on your utterly wrecked expression, pupils blown wide with desire. he's mesmerized for a moment, glancing down stupidly to see how perfectly you're taking him, even as he feels himself teetering on the edge. his hips falter, stilling for just a second, and you let out a desperate whine.

“baby, why’d ya stop?” you whimper, your hips instinctively shifting against his, craving the friction that was so close to undoing you. “was s’close.”

“fuck,” he groans, his voice tight and trembling, every word slipping out like a plea tangled in desperation. “fuck, fuck, fuck—hah— stop movin’ your fuckin’ hips!” the rough snarl of his words is nearly lost beneath the ragged sound of his breathing. but it’s no use. the way your body clings to him drives him over the edge, and with one final, forceful thrust, he lets go.

his release hits you in hot, thick waves, filling you as his climax pulses through him, painting your walls white with every shuddering beat of his release. the air is thick with heat and need, and yet he doesn’t stop. his movements grow harder, rougher, as if trying to wring out every last shred of pleasure. he’s relentless, his hips pounding into you with a fervor that leaves you breathless, completely at his mercy.

he's hitting that spot—that spot—over and over, and your vision whites out when the pleasure crests. your release crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body tightening around him as you scream his name, the sound filling the room and tangling with the slick, sinful rhythm of your bodies.

finally, he collapses against you, his sticky skin pressing into yours, the only sound left in the room your shared ragged breaths. it’s a fragile, perfect moment as he buries his face in your neck, pressing lazy, reverent kisses against your damp skin. “i love you,” he murmurs between kisses, soft and breathless, the words spilling from his lips like a mantra. “i love you, i love you.” but before you can fully catch your breath, you feel him stirring again, hardening inside you. your eyes widen in disbelief, exhaustion and arousal battling for dominance. "again, baek? so soon?"

he grins, that signature wicked grin that always sends your stomach into a dizzying flip. “can’t help it, angel. you’re irresistible,” he murmurs before pulling you into a searing kiss that leaves no room for thought, only submission as you melt into him completely.

“you do realize—” his hands slide beneath your thighs with ease, lifting and positioning your boneless legs onto his broad shoulders. the shift presses you deeper into the mattress, folding your body until it feels like you belong to him entirely. his eyes darken, gleaming with an intensity that steals your breath, his voice dipping into a low, predatory growl. “—that i was dead serious ‘bout fuckin’ a baby into ya, right, sweetheart? ima fill ya up so good, princess. want ya walkin’ down the aisle tomorrow with my cum drippin’ down your leg.”

the thought barely registers before reality sets in—you can only hope your makeup team tomorrow is prepared for the aftermath. the lack of sleep will leave dark circles under your eyes, and the blooming hickeys he’s sure to scatter across your skin will be impossible to miss. you already know rest isn’t in the cards tonight. not with the way his gaze burns into you, smoldering with promises that will keep you awake until the first light of dawn.

the soft light of morning filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the room. you wake slowly, the warmth of baekhyun's body pressed against yours, your limbs tangled together from the night. it’s the day of your wedding, but in this moment, nothing feels more real than the feeling of his chest rising and falling against yours. the scent of him, warm and intoxicating, fills your senses, and when he shifts slightly, his lips brush gently against yours in a soft, slow kiss.

“today’s the day, mrs. byun,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy from sleep. there’s something undeniably sexy about it, the gravel in his tone making your heart race. it takes everything in you not to give in to the desire curling through your veins, the urge to pull him closer, to turn this moment into something far more than just a kiss.

but before you can, he grins, the playful gleam in his eyes making your breath catch. “but first, breakfast,” he says, voice teasing as he lifts himself from you and vanishes beneath the covers, his movements swift and confident.

before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on your thighs, warm and soft, kissing his way up toward you in slow, deliberate movements. the sensation sends a shiver through your body, making it impossible to focus on anything other than the heat of his touch. he doesn’t rush, taking his time, savoring each kiss as if he’s drawing out every moment.

you can hardly breathe, the mix of anticipation and pleasure making your pulse quicken. your wedding day is unfolding in ways you hadn’t imagined, and it feels impossible to think of anything else but the man beside you, lost in the heat of the moment.

you glance at the clock on the wall, your voice breathless as you say, “you’ve got twenty minutes until hair and makeup get here.”

but before you can even finish your sentence, he trails a slow, deliberate lick up your wet heat, and you gasp, your body tensing at the sudden contact.

"how many times do you think you can cum for me in twenty minutes?" he asks, his voice laced with dark amusement, that wicked smile of his making your heart skip a beat. it's the kind of smile that promises nothing good—and you know it's going to be the death of you.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ aaahhh ngl this was pretty challenging for me to write :') iykyk i always portray baekhyun as a clingy lil simp from the start, but this time he wasn’t like that until much later omg. but writing this was sm fun!!!! i hope i did your request justice, nonnie babie <3 i hope u all enjoyed this one 💓💖💞💗💞💖💓💖💞💗 mwah mwah mwaaahhh love u guys !!!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[ask-the-pioneer]

Hello and welcome to @ask-the-pioneer! This is a scripted ask blog dedicated to a slugcat OC of mine called Marbles (she/her), titled the Pioneer. She is a re-interpretation of Artificer’s blue slugpup, set in a AU where the pup survives, grows up, and receives a name. The main story begins some short time after the end of Artificer’s campaign. At that point in time Marbles is already a young adult (early 20s in human years). She parts ways with Hunter - her mentor - and ventures out to seek the knowledge contained within the pearls that she was always captivated by.

This blog is run by @kalivasquez (@kalivasquezart). Keep in mind I’m not a native English speaker. There may be spelling errors or weirdly constructed sentences at times. This is my first ask-blog ever so idk what I’m doing but I’m trying my best 👍

CONTENT WARNING: This blog has content rating of +18 due to potential sensitive themes: mental trauma, depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, blood and gore, or other graphic imagery that may be uncomfortable, scarring or otherwise triggering to witness. Viewer discretion is advised. Posts containing mild themes will be tagged appropriately, while posts showing heavy themes will have "mature" filter applied to them. Please be aware that all the content shared on this blog is intended for an adult audience!

More info below the cut, including blog rules. Please read it!

Blog Rules 📜

Last update: 10th of October, 2024

By default you address the main character - Marbles, aka the Pioneer - in your asks. If you wish to inquire me directly (as an author of this blog), please include “[OOC]” at the beginning, or otherwise indicate that the message is directed at me and not the character.

Asks are answered in-character. Sometimes the character may react to your ask in a seemingly negative way. Please keep in mind that it is done from their point of view, and it does not imply that I (the author) personally reacted badly to your message.

I appreciate all the asks that I receive. However, I reserve the right to not answer some of them, at my discretion. It is not guaranteed that you receive a response. Still, I’ll try my best to answer as many messages as I can.

Be aware that some asks I receive may be skipped over, especially ones that are short and vague, in favour of more complex asks that help me push the plot of this AU forward. This is also relevant for asks that refer to the same subject (duplicates).

Please be tactful! Asks that are inappropriate or confusing in their intent (like spam, baits, asks containing slurs) will be deleted. Sorry!

Do not send me asks via direct messages (DMs)! I keep my DMs open in case someone needs to contact me for other reasons, like incorrect tagging or important offsite matters. If you send me a DM meant to be answered like an ask, your message will be ignored and deleted.

Please do not repost my art on to your own social media accounts. Honestly, don't. Anyone can see this blog without needing to log in or register on tumblr anyway.

More rules may be added later. Please check this section again periodically.

General Character Info ℹ️

As of now, this ask-blog has only one acting character - Marbles the slugcat, aka the Pioneer.

Name (given): Mirmyntasseth, Eight Marbles Cast in Stone

Title (given): the Pioneer

Nickname: Blue (for family), Marbles (for friends, after being named by an iterator)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: young adult (very early 20’s in human years)

Personality: energetic, curious, savvy, humorous, short-tempered, resilient, drive, a little naive and too trusting, exhibits mild case of abandoned child syndrome

Specific traits:

good at finding pearls (she loves them, goes about as crazy for them as scavs) and other trinkets,

knows martial arts, can incapacitate enemies by hitting their pressure points,

can craft explosive spears and grenades - they do less damage, but stun for longer; crafted explosives have deep orange color,

already has a mark of communication, granted by NSH,

Tools:

Marbles is often seen wearing a light colored “sling bag” on her back, where she keeps her pearls and other items,

at a muuuuuuch later point in time, she receives a gift from a kind interator - her very own citizen ID drone; the drone can read from pearls and translate slugcat speech into other languages.

Current reference sheet:

For more in-dept info and drawings/references of the character, please visit Marbles' ToyHouse page.

AU Timeline ⏱️

the story of Pioneer takes place some years after the end of Artificer's campaign, and begins at the same time as Hunter's campaign in-game

this AU assumes the following timeline for slugcat campaigns: Spearmaster -> Artificer -> Hunter -> Gourmand -> Survivor -> Monk -> Rivulet -> Saint,

Artificer/Hunter/Gourmand campaigns happen close together, with Hunter/Gourmand overlapping slightly; all three scugs are roughly the same age, with Arti being the oldest (early 40s), and Hunter the youngest (39),

Saint and Monk are still slugpups by the time the story of Pioneer beings,

Spearmaster is unlikely to be present in this AU as it is assumed that over 432 cycles have passed, meaning they are no longer alive,

Rivulet is unlikely to be present in this AU as here their campaign is assumed to have taken place *much *later in the future,

Saint is thought to be stuck in a time loop, and *may *appear in this AU.

AU Setting 📝

Pioneer’s Backstory (before the events described in this ask blog):

Marbles/Blue (the Pioneer) was born in the Garbage Wastes area, raised by a single mother (Artificer); the other parent remains unknown,

she had a sibling (who was also the runt of the litter) - a brother named Bryn, the green slugpup; the two were fraternal twins,

she got separated from the rest of her family in a scav toll incident,

was not killed, but abducted instead by the scavenger toll tribe, brought into their local shelter just before the rain started,

initially assumed to have been taken in as a fodder in case of predator attack,

in the end she has earned her keep when she learned how to make grenades and explosive spears, turning herself into a valuable asset for the tribe,

was treated fairly well, but never truly incorporated into the local scavenger community,

had stayed with the tribe for many cycles, learning how to fight and survive, but also how to look for valuables (mainly pearls) and haggle with other tribes,

could probably have run away, but she held on to hope that mom would come back for her,

whenever she got “lost”, the tribe would look for her to bring her back,

after one of her short solo expeditions, she came back to the camp only to find out the entire scav tribe has been wiped out,

ran away and been wandering aimlessly for a while, eventualy stumbling upon Hunter who adopted her, took back to NSH's superstructure, and underwent training alongside him (under NSH’s supervision),

promised to accompany Hunter during his important mission, but had to suddenly part ways due to unfortunate circumstances (just before the beginning of Hunter’s campaign).

Post Tagging 🏷️

I use the following tags:

#rain world, #rain world oc, #rain world au - default tags added to all answered asks (unless OOC),

#rain world spoilers - is included in posts that may spoil RW lore, for example: when answers hint to the conclusion of Artificer’s campaign,

#rw - rain world-specific characters that are present in a post, such as: “#rw hunter” or “rw five pebbles”; i will try to use the full name(s) intead of abbreviations,

#au lore - posts that contain important worldbuilding information for my AU,

#ooc- out of character posts, or anything else that doesn’t fall under “rain world” umbrella,

(more tags will be added to this section once I actually start posting stuff)

I also tag sensitive content with appropriate tags like #tw [trigger], if shown.

Text Key 💬

Most dialogue takes form of narrated drawings, where Marbles speaks in her own voice. The speeches are a part of the drawings themselves.

However, if a post contains additional text, the following key is used:

Narration

The road was long and arduous, and she was glad to have finally found a shelter.

(Thoughts)

(This place is full of scavengers, I should be able to trade those pearls for some food)

“Speaking”

“How come you have not seen a vulture before? Climb up to Sky Islands, they are everywhere!”

//OOC

// more art coming soon woohoo!

Credits 📑

image in the blog's header belongs to Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Yoŋasabi script (slugcat language, original conlang) in the top banner by @opashoo

all the other drawings posted on this blog were made by me, unless stated otherwise

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 15 - Mary

Summary: how could they all stand you?

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: hello hello, guys! here we are with another stone pov. this guy is just a bundle of self-hate wrapped in a fancy sparkling gift-wrapping paper of hubris, sex appeal, sarcasm and cockiness. oh look, a christmas-y reference!

jokes aside, happy holidays to everyone who celebrates, guys. i appreciate you all so fucking much, hope you all have a sweet time, whatever that means to you <3

tws: religious imagery? for some reason? just writing this point out gives me whiplash lol. talks about sex. this guy has some deep-seated issues with himself y’all. a bit spicy, especially towards the end.

song:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

August, 1989

It’s been four months and Stone hadn’t written a single note. The starting date of the album recording was finally creeping closer and closer, and he had nothing new. His mind has been emptied. Spent. Four months of seeing her flushed blissful face in place of anything he tried to put his attention to.

He couldn’t even shake the image out by banging his head against the wall - he tried. Repeatedly. But he wasn’t able to take a look in the mirror anymore without seeing Keeva’s wild hair next to him.

Four months and the night they spent together still haunted him like a shadow everywhere he went - at night on his way home from a party she didn’t attend, he could see the silhouette of her naked body on the graffiti-filled wall.

He could hear her muffled moans in the traffic noises outside their rehearsal space.

He could still smell her sweet sweat on his body when he took his clothes off to shower, despite scrubbing his skin raw many times over.

He couldn’t even hear the sound of his strings anymore - they were replaced by her heavenly sighs.

When Stone woke up next to her that morning, for a few puzzling moments he thought he’d actually fallen asleep instead, nosediving into a surreal lustful dream.

Keeva looked like a fallen angel from a Renaissance painting - her fawny hair was spread on the pillow like a perfect halo, the curls preciously separated into little ringlets thanks to the sweat and humidity.

Her freckled cheeks were as soft as a pair of feathered wings - but the maroon bruises that peppered around her sylph-like features were so harsh and raw in comparison that Stone physically recoiled. Such a nauseating desecration.

Even though her face was stained by many colourful hues of pain, her eyes were peacefully closed and her plush lips were curled into a sweet, content smile.

Her naked skin was almost as pale as the bed sheets - the blanket partially covered only her hips and one of her breasts, which gave the whole scene a strange, dichotomic aura of modesty. And the ethereal scent of sex she emanated made Stone’s head spin so fast that he believed that he couldn’t stay a second longer - but his body failed to listen to him.

Because instead, he sank back into the mattress with a sigh and wished that they could lock themselves in this room.

It would be so easy. No more than a couple of steps - take the key, throw it down the drain and stay in the janky bed forever. Survive off of each other, get tangled in the sheets, and do whatever they put their minds to.

Suspended in time, free of all responsibilities, untouched by the world around them. Just lazying around for the rest of their lives, sleeping, fucking, cuddling, laughing…just talking.

Pushing a few strands of hair out of his face, he was fighting every fibre of his body, because it seemed to do whatever it wanted without his permission.

First, he shuffled a bit closer to Keeva and blinked a few times before, completely absent-minded, leaning closer to her. Stone was inching closer so slowly that he could barely register his own movement. Her lips looked so soft and so pink and so swollen from all the head-spinning kisses she placed all over his body that - no.

He managed to gain control just as he felt her warm shallow breath on the bow of his lips. As he hovered above her, he pondered that he could at least steal one warm kiss on her neck, but he knew that he wouldn’t be strong enough to hold back after that.

Stone let out a strained sigh and pulled away just as slowly as he leaned in and rested his head on the pillow, his ears burning bright red. He was extremely embarrassed that he even thought about it.

Then, he lifted his hand to caress Keeva’s cheek, but midway through the air, he decided that it would be wiser not to touch her at all. Better not wake her up and leave before he does something he would regret later.

Because Stone knew that it would only take one kiss to make him collapse like a house of cards, never to be rebuilt again.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away, though. He could swear he felt his big eyes well up with equally big tears, a feeling that was so foreign to him that he almost felt scared by the sheer vulnerability of his position. But she was just so breathtakingly beautiful.

Stone had never seen Keeva sleep so peacefully before. Come to think of it, he’d actually never seen her sleep at all.

A year and a half of having this at the tips of his fingers and he’d never even seen her sleep.

All because he never had the balls to even just spend the night in the same room with her. Keeva was the one who had to take initiative, even though Stone had never wanted anything in his life as much as this. And now that he got it, he felt utterly insatiable.

It was nothing like he’d imagined. Stone took himself for a pretty creative guy when it came to daydreams about her, but not even his mind could ever conjure such an intense and pristine feeling of ecstasy he went through when he got to touch her. Even the tips of his lips were tingling, that’s how intense the tension was.

And she was amazing.

Out of this world, like a gorgeous lewd painting come to life, up for anything he brought to the table. It felt like they’d been doing this for ages, not for the first time. Immediately knowing everything the other thirsted for without even having to verbalize it.

It was nothing like Stone had ever felt before - after all those years of casual meaningless sex with both women and men, this was the night he finally lost his virginity.

He wanted another night - he didn’t give a fuck about how they’d spend it. He’d be satisfied even if she shackled him to the bed and only allowed him to watch her sleep. Or shackling her to the bed and just making her stare at him the whole night, thinking of what could he be doing to her.

Maybe put her in charge and see what it feels like to be in her grasp, eating from the palm of her hand.

Or do what he always naturally inclined towards - wipe that cocky smirk off her face and take her as raw as she’d let him, with no limits and a lot of begging. And judging by yesterday’s little slips of her composure, he knew that she’d go crazy for that.

No, Stone didn’t want one more - after that, another. And another and another, and then so many that he couldn’t even count that high.

The gluttony of it all made him sick.

Greed, too. Stone was never a jealous person - hell, he dodged every relationship as soon as it started showing any signs of exclusivity. But suddenly, he couldn’t stand the idea of Keeva laughing at another man’s joke.

One day, he knew, she would end up laughing with someone else. She will hold hands with that stranger, throw jokes in his direction. The stranger will get to taste those lips over and over again and she will let him. She will stay in the stranger’s bed - because the stranger will give her what he can’t. And she’ll lay there, smiling just as sweetly as now, her heart full of warm love and peace.

Already green with envy for a man neither of them had even met yet. It was hard enough to know that he was out there, just existing in blissful ignorance, not knowing that he would one day take Stone’s most precious thing - the problem was that Keeva didn’t even belong to him in the first place.

For a moment there, mindlessly running his fingers along the big bruise on his cheek, Stone didn’t recognize himself. Not only was he trying to call dibs on a woman who wasn’t even remotely romantically interested in him - he also felt like he owned the right to do it.

Never in his life had he gotten as angry as when he saw someone hurt her. It was such a primitive emotion - he was so furious that he felt like he could spit acid. Stone was ready to bash that guy’s head in - if Jeff hadn’t dragged him away, he might’ve kicked him out of consciousness.

And the dull pain of every single punch he took only made his blood boil further - suddenly, he felt like he could take on everyone in that room. Slam his face into someone’s skull without a second thought and without any consequence.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to cause pain. He wanted to hurt people. All because a couple of them had the nerve to draw Keeva’s blood.

But as always, Stone’s ego was his biggest downfall. Because he would never admit to this. He would never let Keeva know that she made him feel this way, because he basked in the fact that she thought he was cool and careless. He managed to be confident around her only because he wouldn’t allow himself to fully crack in front of her.

Through a few rough moments of arrogance, he even told himself that he was doing her a favour, just to give his mind some downtime.

But it didn’t matter what Stone’s intentions were or what he’d hoped to accomplish by bullshitting himself into thinking that he was over it. It all came down to the same conclusion - he wasn’t a good man for her.

He was stubborn and spiteful, a perfectionist without limits. Borderline rude, bitter. An asshole who can’t talk about his feelings because it makes him feel like a raw nerve. A jealous prideful prick that would bind her down instead of letting her explore something she deserves.

He could never bring her the comfort Keeva needed because he didn’t know how.

Trying to soothe the pain of a girl who’d been dragged through every single puddle of mud she’d stumbled upon throughout her nearly twenty-one years of life - and from what authority? An attorney’s son with a nice house and a loving family who’s revolting against a society that barely took anything from him while it had taken everything from her?

How could she ever love him when all he did was snark, fuck around and unknowingly flaunt his idyllic adolescence?

If Stone was given the choice, he’d break his spine to surrender everything he had and bring her his heart on a silver platter.

But how can you do that when you have nothing to serve?

Maybe the ginger Mormon was right all along - buying a few indulgences might’ve rid him of this awful shame.

If he wasn’t on the road to hell before, he surely bagged a one-way ticket now - a bullseye on all seven sins. And it only took one night.

Seven more reasons on top of the plethora in his head to leave as quickly as possible.

In fact, the sun wasn’t even properly up yet and he was already packed and ready to get out of there.

Half through the door, though, Stone’s right brain got the better of him and he turned back around. He spotted a basic notepad on the bedside table and rushed to it as silently as he could, trying not to take a single look at her.

It all felt like embracing Keeva and then stabbing her in the back with a knife. And the blade was so long that it pierced through his gut, too. He didn’t even know why he was doing it. He was just operating on raw impulses, trying to get it over with so he could just exit the situation. His fingers were shaking when he grabbed the notepad and the lousy pencil next to it.

Fuck, what am I even supposed to say? Doesn’t matter, it will all sound the same to her.

‘Good morning. You’re a fantastic fuck. I don’t care enough to stay, though. But I’d fancy fucking you again sometime. See you in the car! - Stoney’

Stone rubbed his eye so harshly that he nearly poked it out with the pencil. He mouthed a curse and frowned, hovering above the paper.

Hey, I had to run, but

He carefully tore the paper out with a sigh, crumpled it into a ball and stuffed it in his back pocket.

Morning, I’m sorry I’m not here, but Andy called and

Fuck no. I’m not dragging the queen snitch into this.

Hey, Baby. I needed to leave earlier, but it was

Morning. Had to go for a smoke, but I had a great

‘Sup, Baby, I packed up early, hope to see

Had to run, but I didn’t wanna wake

Already went out. You were

He had to bite into his knuckle to hold back a frustrated groan - the last thing he wanted was for Keeva to wake up in the middle of him running away like a coward.

Stone took a deep breath to compose himself, closed his eyes and decided to write down whatever came to his mind first.

Went downstairs for a blunt & coffee. That’s an invite, by the way. - lov

He stopped to stare at the paper for a few seconds and then lunged forward and started vigorously running the pencil over the last letters. He pressed down so hard he almost pierced the paper.

B. E. E. A. Ugh, fuck. B. B. E. A. A.

There we go.

Went downstairs for a blunt & coffee. That’s an invite, by the way. - be anpole

On cue, Stone heard a shuffle of the sheets, so he frantically snatched Keeva’s hair tie off the table and he quickly put the note in its place. Then he gathered all the aborted attempts he ripped out and picked them off the floor, tiptoeing out of the room.

As soon as Stone closed the door behind him, he let out a heavy sigh and ripped all the papers to bits, stuffing them in his duffle bag. He slung it over his shoulder and set off.

On his way through the hallway, he didn’t even bother to look into the mirror that was hanging there. He was focused on the hair tie he stole, trying to play a few rounds of Cat’s Cradle with.

He didn’t really pay attention to what he was doing, his mind was racing with so many thoughts that it all meshed into an ugly white noise. So without much thought, Stone turned the hair tie over in his fingers a few times and then lifted it to his nose, taking a big breath. Like it would…

Fuck. It does smell like her hair.

Stone had a bad habit of chewing on his scrunchies, but when he took this one between his teeth, it felt incredibly wrong. Before he could slap himself awake and finally use the tie the way it was supposed to be used, Greg emerged from one of the rooms next to theirs.

By now, months later and lying in his bed and staring out of the window while mindlessly strumming his guitar, Stone could hardly remember what he’d said to him as they headed to the café.

He only snapped back into consciousness when she walked in back then.

Keeva had bruises all over her face and a stitched-up forehead, her curls were sticking out in all directions and the tip of her nose was bright red from the cold wind outside, but she looked so well-rested.

She was beaten up and messy and frail, wearing the same worn-out leather jacket she’d been wearing since she was thirteen and those fucking dungarees that were starting to rip at the knees, yet she seemed like she’d just had the best sleep of her life.

If pride made people float, Stone would’ve been hovering so high up that they’d have to pull out a ladder to drag him down from the ceiling. And the little smile Keeva gave him when their eyes met nearly broke him - he was grateful that Greg stepped in to talk to her.

If he hadn’t, Stone probably would’ve jumped over the table, picked her up, thrown her over his shoulder and carried her back to the room, where he would’ve locked them and thrown away the key forever - surely accompanied by her angelic giggles.

When he finally stole the chance to talk at the gas station, he wanted to establish that nothing had changed - but everything had. When he took Keeva around the shoulders, the shockwave that went through his entire body was far stronger than it used to be, almost painful.

And when she showered him with toothy smiles and giddy compliments, Stone felt like he could fly again. The notion of being up for repeating the night - no, the notion that she wanted Stone to touch her again, was enough to make any of his common sense or determination dissolve like a snowflake on her warm palm.

At that moment, Keeva’s proposition seemed like a good idea. The perfect compromise. Words were spewing out of his mouth and he didn’t even know what he was saying. And she seemed so enthusiastic that he just couldn’t stop talking.

But the more Stone thought about it later, the more stupid it seemed. How the hell was he supposed to handle this?

How do you have casual sex with someone who makes you feel like this?

They were on tour through the entirety of April and even though they were in the same room - same bed every night, New York never repeated. Keeva usually went to sleep when Stone was already half out of it and when he woke up, she was already out of bed - often even out of the room.

At times it even felt like she was punishing him for leaving her that one time.

At first, Stone had pondered that maybe ‘one more night’ would shut his gluttony up and make the burning in his stomach disappear, but he knew far too many junkies to know that that was bullshit. There was always gonna be another ‘one more night’. But the ‘one more night’ hadn’t come yet.

As time passed, Stone settled on the fact that he’d agreed to it, there was no way back now and he was dying to have her so close to him again, now that he had this weird pass. And yet, he still couldn’t find a viable excuse to seduce her again.

Four months and the right opportunity never came.

He needed a reason. He couldn’t just come up to Keeva and whisk her away, that would be suspicious.

How the fuck do you have sex with someone without making them aware that you wanna have sex with them?

He envied Keeva’s excuse.

Yeah, I’m a virgin and I need my best friend to be the one who fucks me first - oh, no worries, it’s just a trust thing, it’s not like I love you.

But Stone couldn’t say that. After the Mormon, he never had a reason to have sex. He didn’t need one, he just liked the way it felt so he did it. Often. And there was never any other motive than just being turned on and having a hot person nearby who wanted him, too.

Stone had no idea how to operate with the thought of fucking someone to satiate love instead of lust.

Jesus, I’m such a fucking slut.

Oh. Oh, maybe that could be my excuse. I’m just a slut.

Come here, Baby. Oh, why? No reason. You’re here, I’m here - let’s bang.

He was so sick and tired of the guitar he’d been clutching for hours now. As always, Stone sat down with it as soon as he came home, trying to sweat out anything that he could bring to the table.

For some reason, Keeva seemed a bit stunted, too.

The few times they tried to bring something new in, it just wasn’t genuine enough. It didn’t have the heart he’d desired. Stone’s inner feelings suddenly seemed so raw and strong that he couldn’t even channel them into music. And even if he could, he knew it wouldn’t get a warm response.

That just wasn’t the kind of band they were.

Andy was always calling the shots - rightfully so, as the genius frontman slash lyrical engine.

Jeff was, on top of his groovy bass lines and complete art direction, pretty concerned about the technical stuff around the management of the band and his progressive ideas didn’t get much appreciation, either.

And Greg and Bruce, as fantastic of musicians as they were, just didn’t seem to have as much enthusiasm as Stone needed to be pushed to do his best.

He and Keeva were still writing, but it just wasn’t it when it was mixed with the other instruments.

After the year-plus of being together, he felt like they were hardly functioning as a band anymore - at least what Stone imagined a band should be.

They were working over and over on the same material they’d written in the first bursts of creativity when they got together and the passion was slowly but surely fizzling out - the record contract was already stepping on their throats and they haven’t even finished the first record yet.

Yes, Stone had some material, but it was so dark and primal that he didn’t feel comfortable baring his mind in front of everyone, especially when his soul was the most fragile it had ever been. And the guys, even though they were his friends, just wouldn’t get it.

She would be the only one to understand, but he couldn’t share it with her either.

His soul was split into pieces because of her, after all.

He wondered if Keeva felt the same - sometimes, he’d hear her noodling around upstairs and they were such haunting melodies that it made his heart sink. But they never left the confines of her room.

And Stone couldn’t write without her. It was their joint passion that made the best songs - but most of them were so rough that they couldn’t be shown to the guys without prickly comments and getting shunned immediately.

But he’d had enough, though. Of her, of himself, of this band, of this weird limbo they were floating in. He was going to snap them both out of it and he would do it today, no matter what it took. Stone needed her and if this was the only way to spark creativity, he would do it.

This strong resolute flew out of the window as soon as Keeva’s head popped into the door, a heated flush colouring her cheeks bright red.

“Ugh!” she groaned and slammed the door behind her, throwing her worn-out backpack to the floor. She immediately beelined to the kitchen corner to take a beer out of the fridge without even taking a look at him. “So I had the greatest day at work today. Only got yelled at once, can you believe that? Didn’t foam the milk enough. Who even buys hot coffee in this weather, anyway?”

Keeva hopped up on the counter, slotted the tip of the bottle between the fridge and the cupboard and yanked - the cap soundlessly fell to the carpeted floor, but she didn’t seem to care about littering at all. She just took a big gulp and then pressed the dewy green glass against her forehead.

Stone wouldn’t hold himself back anymore. The heat her body was radiating crept across the room and reached all the way to his skin. And he wanted more of it. Desperately.

Your friend is a slut, sweetheart. Nothing more, nothing less. No feelings, no reason. You wanted casual, you’ll have casual.

He carefully laid his guitar on the floor and stood up, sticking his hands into his pockets. Keeva was still shaking her head with her eyes closed and icing her sunburnt skin, oblivious to his careful steps towards her.

“Oh, and Kelly called. The Plant can apparently book us the house they talked about, so we’ll g-”

She trailed off when she finally looked up. She jumped a bit - from her point of view, Stone had just teleported across the room. For him, it was just a couple of strides - the slow and cautious tempo could be easily mistaken for confidence.

He watched Keeva like a hawk as he walked by - deliberately as close as he could without touching her - and then leaned his back on the wooden pillar that supported the attic stairs. He folded his arms and casually crossed his legs, still challenging her to a staring contest. She frowned.

“What’s up?” she shrugged.

Stone basked in her confusion, slowly raising an eyebrow. It made him feel more and more sure of his plan.

God, I make myself sick.

Keeva opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again, shaking her head. Now she seemed to be getting irritated.

“What did I say?” she questioned and wiped a bead of sweat that was running down her temple with the wet bottle. Stone didn’t respond.

He just pushed himself off the stairs and walked across the small corridor, stopping right in front of her. Keeva backed away a bit, but he could tell that he caught her curiosity, because she kept her eyes on his as if she was trying to read his mind through them. It made him shudder inside.

There were two features that Stone always felt self-conscious about - the huge alien eyes and the huge alien fingers. But there was something in the way Keeva always studied both that made him confident enough to irritate her with them. Be it brashly staring, tickling, poking or flicking.

And the stupid deal opened up an abundance of new ways to put that weird fascination of hers to use.

He slipped the bottle out of her hands and, without leaving her puzzled eyes, took a big drink. As Keeva raised an eyebrow, Stone slotted the bottle back into her grasp and leaned on the counter, arms tightly close to the sides of her hips.

Her lips parted and she hummed a strange noise of confusion when he tipped his head, darting across her face.

Stone was praying that she wouldn’t call his confidence bluff - he could barely breathe. His heart was beating so hard that he was worried it would jump out of his throat.

He carefully leaned closer and nudged Keeva’s nose with his own to make her turn her head to the side - when her lips moved far away enough from him to deem the temptation safe, he pressed a soft wet kiss on her sweaty cheekbone.

“Uh,” she shakily cleared her throat and blinked a few times. “What’s the occasion?”

No occasion. Just like you wanted.

Stone nudged her face further to the side - her lips were still too close. Close enough for his mind to drop the frail guard it held up against its own thoughts.

I love you.

Fuck.

“I’m bored.”

His voice came out just as blank as he wanted. He didn’t have any time to be proud of himself, though, because Keeva immediately fought back by trying to look back at him. She scoffed.

“And that’s my business how?”

She let out a suppressed sigh when Stone nudged her nose again, making her turn away.

“You’re in my way,” he murmured with a shrug and slowly nuzzled Keeva’s skin when a leftover drop of water ran down her face and fell on the tip of his nose, swiping the cold liquid across her cheek.

She shivered - he was about to write it off as her being ticklish, but then Stone noticed that she shifted in her seat and clutched the bottle tighter.

“Jesus. Your flirting skills are just off the roof, mate,” she shook her head with a strained chuckle and took a drink. His cockiness was clearly pissing her off, but he knew her enough to read between the lines.

“I’m not flirting,” he slightly backed away and tipped his head to the side again, trying to agitate her further by staring. “I’m stating a fact.”

“Okay, okay,” Keeva snickered and shuffled forward to hop down. He was completely caging her, though. “Can I go wash my hands now?”

Stone shrugged and gripped the counter tighter to underline that he had no intention of letting her go anywhere.

“I don’t know, can you?” he squinted. “Are you asking me for permission?”

She sharply scoffed, clearly half-assed in her attempt to push him away with her knees.

“Don’t act like it doesn’t get you bricked up.”

He inched away further to take a better look at her. Even though her deep voice was once again the one of a confident smart-ass, Keeva was studying the piece of ceiling that peeled around the lightbulb above them. So adamant about looking anywhere but his eyes.

She was just trying to seem composed and she was trying really hard.

Stone tutted.

“I don’t need you to feed my ego. I can do that well enough myself.”

“No shit,” she shook her head and reached out, pressing the freezing bottle to his neck, right on his wildly beating artery.

It was baffling how fast Keeva managed to make his bravado disappear every single time he tried to push on her - as soon as the glass touched his skin, Stone twitched and let out a poorly stifled gasp. Regrettably for him - a clear gesture that he was, in fact, still human.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re trying to seduce me,” she breathed out, a smirk cracking her wannabe disinterested attitude.

Stone quickly composed himself and moved closer again, dragging his lips along her jawline and up to her ear. He let out a breathy chuckle, tickling her flushed skin.

“Uh-oh. My bad,” he hummed, lifting his index finger to point at her chest. Keeva’s head quickly darted down - he sharply flicked her nose and pulled away, tilting his head to the side again. “Don’t wanna send the wrong message.”

She flinched at the unexpected sting and finally looked at Stone, giving him a sardonic scowl.

“Do you always talk this much?”

Stone nonchalantly shrugged and pushed himself off the counter so he could hook his fingers on her belt. He pulled her closer with one harsh tug.

His legs were shaking, but he felt bold enough to fist the fabric of her tank top and drag it out of the waistband of her jeans, lifting it enough to snake his hands under it.

“Depends,” he smirked, running his knuckles across her skin. “If you give it good enough, I shut up every once in a while.”

To his mortification, Keeva didn’t laugh. And her sigh wasn’t as euphoric as he’d hoped, either.

Her half-lidded gaze and ragged breaths might’ve indicated that she was slowly disappearing into a different plane of existence, but when she spoke, her firm tone was as cold and caustic as it could be.

Now she was turned on and upset.

“God. I’m amazed that you managed to go through half of this city. How could they all stand you?”

Keeva was the funniest human he’d ever met. But, as if one couldn’t exist without the other, she was also the most cruel when she wanted to be. Stone didn’t have it in him to fault her for that. He had no right.

Because his cruelty exceeded hers.

What the fuck did I… You’re in my way? If you give it good enough? I’m bored?!

Just a few moments ago, he was the one literally pushing Keeva’s face as far away as he could.

Fuck. What if - oh, fuck. She must think that I don’t even find her attractive enough to look at her. Fuck. Fuck.

He was so deeply caught up in his own hubris, so buried in the dumb routine that he didn’t even realize that it could seriously hurt her.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about half of the city,” Stone breathed out, already out of air before she even touched him. “How can you stand me?”

He bent down to rest his flaming forehead on the nape of her neck, pressing feather-soft kisses on her collarbone.

He had no idea how to telegraph the overwhelming shame he felt, so he’d hoped to God that she would understand this chaste gesture of apology.

He would go to war for the little laugh she let out while running her fingers through his hair.

“No idea. But I think I’m doing pretty well so far.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[princess-pacman]

So, yeah. Here’s their reformed outfits. Pay no attention to the stockphoto watermark. I changed Robotnik’s coloring because I like this better. I don’t know what else to say about it.

[mariigoldzz]

sleepover weekend headcanons about victor!maysilee?

OHHH boy.i have LOTS of thoughts about this and I'm working on a victory tour poster. The Capitol attempts to give her a "diamond diva."public image. Dressing her in fur coats,diamonds, pearls. When she's young it makes her seem like a stuck up meangirl brat, when she's older it makes her look like those rich movie wives lol. Capitolites either love her or despise her (depending on who you ask)

she ends up a lot like Johanna and is even angrier than before.

I can see them killing her family but not until later on. Maybe a year or two after her games, but not right away. Or they kill Merrilee as a warning. (in my AU she didn't kill the gamemakers or cheat with the force field, haymitch was killed first and she shot silka with a dart.)

Doomed Yuri with the female morphling 🔥 they get stoned together (based on @kald-dal-art's oc, who won a year or two before the 50th games)

Pressured into staying thin, and develops an addiction to cigarettes and caffeine.

I think she'd be able to bring at least one tribute home before Katniss and Peeta (if they didn't kill her family.)

Sid's daughter gifts Katniss the flint striker.

This AU is still in development so maysilee either has a falling out with Asterid or becomes Katniss's annoying rich aunt. Peeta gets along with her fine and they make sweets together 🔥🔥.

[confusedmothboy]

i need to know all about eddie taylor PLEASE he looks so cool 🙏❤️ great art and oc btw

aaaa tyy!! heres the yap (sorry it took so long to answer)

general information:

edward charles taylor, born october 13, 1980, 6'1" (185 cm), right handed, jackie's brother, looks much more like their dad while jackie takes after their mom

much much more under the cut

interests: history, nypd blue, law and order, dystopia/war novels, vintage maps, music

music taste: blue oyster cult, the smashing pumpkins, pearl jam, nena, the rolling stones, dead kennedys, nirvana, radiohead, pink floyd

fun facts: his ear was pierced at a pearl jam concert in 1995, but he lost the guy in the crowd before he could do the other one -- he was taking three history classes (APUSH, AP euro, and history of war) -- his favorite drink is cream soda mixed with vodka to taste -- he has broken 7 bones -- he knew nat, shauna, tai, van, and rachel (girl who died in the plane) before the crash

personality: he's a pretty chill guy, but freezes up in tense situations very quickly. levelheaded and rational, so knows better than to interfere once the group becomes all culty. he closes himself off from basically the rest of the group after season 2 for self preservation. before the crash, he had a few unnamed non canon friends, and was in the popular group of unpopular people if that makes sense. like hes cool to the losers but a loser to cool people.

ALSO no he did not leave jackie out to die in the cold, he was long asleep by the time they had that argument. he was also not present for javi's death, he refused to hunt nat (she was like a sister to him) and stayed back at the cabin with mari, akilah, lottie, and travis. he wasn't allowed near coach ben because nat knew he would mercy kill him, but spent weeks outside the animal pen to talk with him at a distance. yes he lowkey helped travis make the spike pit that killed mari (he was in the trees trying to warn her during the hunt but she didnt hear him and ran in anyways).

relationship charts seasons 1 through 3

(trigger warnings for suicide, overdoses)

post rescue:

eddie tested through his junior year mostly through those sat prep books during his time in the wilderness, then studied to get his GED so he wouldn't have to go back to whs. he worked as a park ranger while studying at cornell from 1999 to 2002, though a nervous break caused by seeing a "cult" dancing around in the woods one night makes him quit and pay the incident quiet. he got his doctorate in history in 2005, and started working at umaine.

he cut contact with everyone from the wilderness exccept for nat and travis, who he married in 2015 (hold the tomatoes please theyre cute i promise). he taught war in literature and film for a few years before he was given his current class, which is intro to ottoman studies. hes that white guy who co runs almost every minority recognition group on campus, he's running those fundraisers like its the navy.

wants nothing to do with the other survivors. despite his attempts to hide the blackmail from travis, travis finds out and o/d's around the canon time of his death in the adult tl. eddie tries to get revenge on shauna (because he's vengeful like that and blames her immediately) but ends up dying by her in the vague time period that would be season 4. either that or a romeo and juliet situation where he offs himself in the cemetery travis got buried in or something i dunno we'll see

on a lighter note, heres some fake tweets

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: It's 3am, and Morrigan has a very important question for Silas

Warnings: None

Word Count: 215

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

The Question

"Silas, would you love me if I was a worm?"

Silas blinked a few times, then rolled over to look tiredly at his partner.

"Morri," he mumbled. "It's the middle of the night."

Morrigan looked back at him with wide eyes. He was still lying down on their clamshell bed with his hands clasped together over his stomach.

"Silas." He repeated, dead serious. "Would you love me if I was a worm?"

Silas stared at him. "...No? I'd probably eat ya."

Morrigan gasped dramatically and put a hand over his heart. "Silas! That's stone cold of you!"

Silas huffed. "Well, I'm not gonna lie to ya? I don't care about worms other than eatin' em. Especially tube worms. Hmm, maybe I'd love ya if you were a tube worm. Sliced up. With seaweed on the side..."

"Silas!" Morrigan exclaimed. Silas' light teasing had him sitting bolt upright. "This scenario shouldn't involve eating *anybody*! Don't tell me you want to eat *me* now?

"'M not gonna answer that." Silas murmured, and his teeth briefly flashed.

Morrigan felt his face grow hot, and he crossed his arms. "Fine. Would you love me if I was a worm and you knew it was me?"

Silas rolled his eyes. "Course. But it'd be hard to resist eatin' ya."

"SILAS!"

-End

...........................................

A/N: This is just a silly short fic XD I felt like writing something more lighthearted and fluffy, with just a hint of suggestiveness lolol. I hope you guys liked the silly gay mermen

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @harryinramshackle @galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker @offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @theultbeing @1dont-really-know @nemisisnemi @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy @casp1an @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch @ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @sillyslipperybananapeel @cloudcountry @skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @sunsmilu @theolivetree123 @authoruio @jewelulu @moonyasnow @skibidibabygirl @quartztwst @yuizenihaswriten @oya-oya-okay @kirans-wonderland @coffinkissez @idikeis @s-t-y-x @minutewondertwist @random-twst-and-oc-stuff @creatorbiaze @bunnwich @blondeaxolotl

[funeralcaketopper]

"Heh, she finally let me do her makeup!"