#Something else happened in the dream. After it switched to the little house on the mountain

[radio-charlie]

Markedly strange dream given to me. Need to get it out before falling asleep again. I am worried I will forget it. It feels significant

I am in a house. Two strange people have been assigned my guardians. There is something I can do to warp myself into a different universe. But doing this invites ire. They do not want me to leave. They are not benevolent presences

The dream switches to a world so idyllic it looks like a video game made for fans of animal crossing and harvest moon. It's a cozier house now. I am a kid with a number of siblings, we live in that house with our two parents. The dreams details are slipping away from me as I write. Please bear w me if messy

Something is very wrong. Nobody will tell me what. My siblings do not sound like people w real personalities. They and our guardians talk like ppl reading from scripts. The only time the script appears broken is when I ask questions like, can I just go out of the house and wander around? There's an area next to us that appears under construction, are we getting new neighbors? (the answer: it's going to be a new recreational area with things to do. this question evoked a worried and stunned look and a bit of a pause before the answer)

To the first question, the answer was yes, so I walked down the mountain our house was on to a very cute little port area tucked within a bay. There, I was subjected to a weird test where I had to put both my index fingers on a gadget and try to light a bulb with my thoughts. When I first touched it and almost by accident, a bright light came out. After that, earnest attempts produced only a faint light at best. One of the people surveying the test was someone I know who's very involved in US intelligence shit in foreign waters.

I was sent away and ended up in a party by the sea. It was already getting dark by then. After almost getting sexually assaulted at the party, something said: I will protect you. And I was all of a sudden back at the house. It was a new day.

Except now there was a new rule. And it was made out to always have been there. We, the children, were no longer allowed to wander freely. There seemed to be an 11pm curfew. I was talking to one of my guardians when something weird happened. Heard a man's voice, then the voice said no! Stop! Don't let him do this, it's messing up the dream

And then I'm shown a terrible script. It's a bunch of lines that are meant to be fed into my brain as I'm unconscious. Some are meant to elicit a conversation w my mind while I cannot control it. Others look like they are meant to implant bad things

I notice that I have shrunk in stature in the house, and am now the same cute little chibi size as my siblings. Our cartoony shoes are arranged in a messy row in the foyer. Desperate to escape the dream before something happens, i begin violently slashing at the guardian i'm talking to. The voice of the man who'd been speaking earlier falls silent, even though i'd been hoping for him to protest to indicate that i was doing something that would break the dream. I end up slashing at our other guardian too. They break up into glitched out pieces. I then wake up

Overall the dream was frightening. If I recall correctly, all throughout it something would tell me that there is no escape. "There is no escape so why not let us make it nice for you here? We can make it so nice. Don't mess it up"

I do not consent. My dreams, like the rest of my life, are my own

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. four (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 24.1k.

WARNINGS & TAGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns sometimes, angsty angst that angsts in the form a verbal fight, tears, unresolved feelings and denial, tension, a heartfelt conversations with bro and lots of yearning!, a time jump (three months or so), mingi and love being unhelpful but helpful at the same time, yeosang being a cutie pie and a little bit of his story gets mentioned!, the L word, confessions, apologies, mentions of body dysmorphia and body related insecurities, soft!dom yunho (he's a little bossy), switch!reader (oc hates to let him win i guess), reader has breasts and a vagina, mirror play, teasing, light choking, messy kisses and makeouts, masturbation (f), just the tiniest bit of voyeurism, praise kink if you squint oh my god, fingering, multiple orgasms, love making (who else cried), the post-sex convo and more feelings and dreams are discussed.

NOTES: hi everyone! WE MADE IT!!!!! here's part four of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH. after this, there's an epilogue/little part five to let everyone know sort of what happens after this + to set up the next story in the universe. i also just want to adress that one of you kindly suggested to change up some of the terminology i use in the warnings and for some other things in the fic itself and i thank that person a lot! but i also want to encourage you, if you feel something's missing or if i can do anything to be more inclusive in my stories, to let me know! i hope you all enjoy it part four of mbc, we've come a looong way and i'm happy on how this turned out. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 2nd 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox

masterlist - part one - part two. part three.

You dream about him. Every night. 

His mouth on yours and his hands handling you with care fill the gray matter of your brain and rots it. It fits you. 

A rotten brain for a rotten person. 

The scenario repeats in a loop in your head even when you're awake, alone in your house office, accompanied by staff at the main office building. It doesn't really matter what you're doing, who you're with or if the task at hand requires your full attention, Yunho still invades your mind and makes you feel like you're leaping, flying through skies and then falling, falling, falling, before hitting the ground hard. 

Because at the end of the memory, it plays what you did. 

The way you pulled away, the way you left him there without a proper explanation. 

You didn't have dinner with your brother, it was over nine o'clock at night. You needed an escape goat, a plan, an excuse to flee from the happiness you grasped with your sticky, messy, disgusting fingers. 

Everything you touch seems to turn to shit. 

So you can't touch Jeong Yunho even if you want to. 

You shan't, you won’t, even when he’s so close to you it takes a lot for you to hold back. He’s a message away, a meeting away from you. And his messages on your phone kept piling up this week until they didn’t. 

And now, as you watch him enter the meeting in a suit and tie, you do your best to pretend nothing happened between you even though it's supposed to. To everyone else's eyes, you’re still a couple. 

You’re grateful for that. You don’t sit together, you can’t sit together. Of course you can't, that would be very unprofessional. You can't voice your opinion about any decisions made by his team (or rather, his brother's team) today because that would look like you're doing it to either spite him or to be on your boyfriend's side, it would look like corruption! 

God bless the stupid societal and corporate norms. You won't even have to speak to him today, if you're lucky. You know he's shadowing his brother today, learning his way through these meetings you've been attending for years or at least pretending to do so.

There's absolutely no reason to speak to him today. 

Yay. 

Soohyun sits at your left, at the head of the table, and Yunho sits with his brother at Soohyun’s left. Neither your father or his are here today so everyone’s shoulders are a little less tense and the meeting is a quarterly one, which means people are going to be explaining graphics and reading numbers you have to stay focused on. 

There's things you have to write down, there's statements you have to whisper in your brother's ear so he can say them out loud instead of you. 

But Yunho looks way too good in his suit and tie and it's a little distracting. 

And he's looking right at you, too. 

You can hear your co-workers immediately gossiping about it, you can see your brother turn to you, then to him, then to you and you can faintly see how he raises a brow. Faintly, because you're pretending to read over some papers in front of you by the time he bumps your leg to try and catch your attention. 

You step on his foot under the table, he mutters an offended ouch and pinches your arm in retaliation, which causes you to stop pretending to eye the documents and turn to him. 

“Stop it.” 

“You started it,” he says and then Soohyun gives you that look that lets you know he knows something you don't, although it can possibly be like that because he's a clueless little shit. “Did something happen between yo—” 

Well, maybe not as clueless. Good thing you wore great heels today, the face he makes as he's trying to pretend that the sharp end of your Louis Vuitton is not stabbing him in the leg feels like a victory. 

“Keep quiet, the meeting is starting.” 

Oh, how you love winning. 

The thing is, you can't even enjoy it now. Yunho’s face pops up on your mind again and it serves as a reminder of just how close he is. 

As someone from the sales team starts their presentation, your eyes drift to Yunho in a way that feels oddly familiar. 

There, trying to stay upright even though you know he's zoning everything out, there's this memory from your junior year in highschool that never tortured you the way it does now. 

Although he's always been very tall, Yunho used to sit near the window, in the second row of the classroom you both shared that year. Not his decision, certainly whoever made that decision was not the sharpest tool on the shed because all he did was look out of the window and close his eyes when the teachers were not paying enough attention to him. 

And you used to stare at him just like you're doing now. Through the corner of your eye, with your back straightened and ninety percent of your attention on the topic at hand. He held the other ten percent, tenderly, softly, without realizing what he was doing. 

Just like he held you that night. 

At the time, you wondered what went on in his head every time he drifted away from the class. New ways of making your life impossible? A new insult to your integrity, maybe? Highschool Yunho was everyone's dream but, for you, he meant nothing but nightmares and headaches. 

Nothing has changed much. 

But instead of wondering if he's thinking about new ways of pestering you with his presence, now your heart races at the possibility of him thinking about the kisses you two shared last week. 

You hope no one notices the sudden shift on the chair or the gulp you make to keep your emotions buried deep down inside of you, where no one can reach them. 

Trying to regain focus and ignore Yunho completely, you look at the projected graphics in front of you. The person doing the presentation turns to the next slide as soon as you're beginning to understand what the hell they're talking about. Surprisingly, your brother turns to whisper at you about it. 

“The new company sales are lower than expected.” 

When you turn fully to him, you can see he's biting his cheek in concerned concentration. You want to roll your eyes. 

“I told dad no one would care about this company and you were the one who approved for us to go forward with it.” 

“I know.” 

“Dumbass,” you whisper, scrunching your nose and turning to the presentation again but your brother nudges you slightly and you have to look at him again. 

Only for your eyes to completely bypass him and land in Yunho. 

God fucking damnit.

Is this what having a crush is like? Is tortuous and you hate this even more than when you couldn't stand seeing his face out of pure annoyance. 

This is why you probably never had a crush on anyone before. But it's strange, because it doesn't feel like something new. Yes, Yunho attending meetings is new but the feeling is familiar and grossly nostalgic of something you feel like you left behind.

And now has come back in full force. 

You never had a crush on Yunho, at least not that you know of. 

But this feeling is telling you otherwise and it's maddening and disgusting and— 

“Something definitely happened, hm?” 

Eyes flicking over your brother's sudden concerned expression, you push back on the seat and sink in it a little. This way, when you look up to him, Yunho is nowhere in sight. When you speak again, you make sure only Soohyun hears you. 

“We can save it, don't worry about it. I'll write up a proposal of how we can market the concept of the company in a way that it at least piques people's interest.” 

Your brother huffs, unsatisfied with your deflection and the way you visibly close up at the mere thought of telling him if something did happen between you and Yunho. 

But he says nothing. It stings that you know he's going to leave it at that, the support you're supposed to have slipping through your fingers as you do your best to keep your feelings to yourself. It's not his fault, not really. 

He doesn't know any better. 

You don't know any better, either. 

But your focus on the meeting comes back and you end it with thirteen pages of virtual notes and a list of things you need to do today to keep this shitshow of a company afloat. 

There's a split second when you get out of the room that you feel Yunho’s eyes on you. You're afraid he's going to take the opportunity to talk to you, so you look up and around trying to find something, someone you can use as a distraction, as a shield. 

But then there's like four pairs of hands dragging him away and you see that annoyed glint in his eye, usually reserved for you, as they turn him around and away from you. 

Yes, of course they wouldn't let him speak to you right now. He's shadowing his brother, he has important things to do! 

Yay. 

You ignore the beating of your heart as you move quickly through the halls. Soohyun and Gunho are already aiming for the elevator so you opt for the stairs, knowing you won't have to speak to anyone at all if you get to your office like this. 

Well, Soohyun's office. You have yours on a lower floor, not as unnecessary space-taking as his, but you usually work there because you enjoy the view. 

So when you finally close the door behind you and the view is blocked by thirty piled up boxes you start thinking that the universe is upset with you. Is this your karma? Everything and everyone against you just because you walked out of a kiss before making a mistake? 

Is not like Yunho cares that much about you anyway!

Huffing, you look around the room until your eyes land on that stupid tree you started painting when Soohyun told you he wanted to redecorate his office. Its branches extend just a little more than what you remember and there’s a part of it that was unfinished the last time you saw it. You can only assume either Seonghwa or your brother had something to do with it.

Which sucks. 

Because you’re so painting over the stupid tree one day. 

You stare at it while your mind wanders. Head slowly filling up with noise, you finally feel at ease when your thoughts are nothing but work: You need to write up a proposal to that stupid vintage-esque focused company to see if there’s some salvation for it. You need to speak with marketing, get one of them to go along the process with you. You need to sit down with your brother and kindly tell him to never allow something like this to ever happen again. 

Making a mental list to organize and prioritize everything you need to do, you barely register footsteps echoing in the long hall. You should’ve, because it’s lunchtime and there’s no one on the floor, but you don’t. 

And so when the person you least want to see comes through the door and lets out a heavy sigh, you turn to him like he grew a second nose over the course of the twenty minutes you last saw each other. 

“I hate it here, I truly do.” 

It almost makes you want to laugh, but you remain stoic as you move through the office. You take a few boxes and you put them down on the floor until there’s some light leaking through the window and illuminating the space enough for it not to give you a headache as you work. 

Sitting on your brother's chair, barely sparing him another glance before turning on the desk computer and pulling up an empty document. You click and tap a few meaningless things: You pick the font, you mess with the font size for a second before setting it back to its default. Anything to help you look busy and not like your heart is going a million miles per second. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” 

Blurry, in the background, you can see him look around the office, probably taking the mess in. He moves too, walks until his expensive shoes are tip to tip  with a literal mannequin resting against the wall. 

You stop paying attention as you write the date and the proposal title. Something simple, something that both your father and the CEO of the dumb not-approved-by-you company that has you in this predicament can understand. You hate to say that you assume they’re not very smart if they put out such a dated and non profitable idea for their company. 

Still, you try to address Yunho like nothing’s bothering you and like you’re not nervous you two are in a room alone after everything that went down. 

“You can ask Seonghwa what that means,” you start, sighing like his friend and your brother are hopeless. Because maybe that’s what they are. “They’re not running any ideas by me even though I’m the one that spends the most time in this office, so.” 

“Hm,” he starts and you can hear him walking around, but your focus is now on the first few words of the proposal. You realize there’s really nothing you can start before speaking with marketing and so you open the notes app, to have a list of ideas to run through them at least. “Thought you worked from home.” 

“I do. I have an office three floors down, too.” It’s easy sharing information with him now, especially if it means there’s something to talk about that’s not… Well, the kiss. “I hate it, it’s in a corner and people can see into it. It’s easier to work here.” 

“And Soohyun hyung doesn’t mind?”

“Considering he’s never here, I doubt it.” 

“Cool, cool.” 

There’s something in his tone that makes you want to look up, lump in your throat growing in size enough for you to cough it away. You don’t look up, you can’t look up even if you’ve misspelled the word rebrand like four times already. 

But then the light you managed to cast onto the space disappears completely. You feel something besides you, the soft material of an expensive suit blazer grazing your arm and cheek. You see veiny, masculine hands secure themselves around the arms of the chair before he’s turning you to face him. 

You gulp. 

He’s leaning down close, closer than he should be, closer than what he’s allowed to be considering anyone can walk in on you. You’re flushing, you can feel the redness creep up your neck and heating your ears and face before you gather the courage of raising a questioning brow. Yunho stays silent, his eyes scanning your face and briefly landing on your lips before returning your stare. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” You ask him again, quieter this time, voice trembling a little. 

“Princess,” he starts, the corner of his lip raising just a little, like it’s funny he has to say what he’s about to say, “are you ghosting me?” 

Shit. 

“Why would you— Why would I—,” a nervous chuckle abandons you and then you huff, trying to seem offended at his accusation, “W-what do you mean by that?” 

Leaning into your space a tiny bit more, he repeats “Are you ghosting me?” 

Creasing your brow, you straighten in the chair but do nothing to pull him away “No.”

“Then what about the ten messages I sent you and you left on delivered?” 

Faking a surprised gasp, you move to take your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and unlock it to swipe through your messages “You did? Oh, my God, I’ve been soooo busy.” 

“You’re shit at lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you—” 

“Are you okay?” 

Your eyes snap from the phone to his face, genuine annoyance creasing your eyebrows this time. 

“You don’t have to ask me that everytime you see me, Jeong.” 

“But are you?” He asks as you finally find his chat and open the messages you dreaded to see the entire time that passed. There’s a few of them practically begging you to speak to him, one apologizing for the kiss and the other ones you don’t even see because Yunho is taking the phone from your hand and placing it on the desk next to you. “I mean, what happened didn’t trigger anyth—” 

You hate he’s this considerate with you, even after you clearly walked out of the situation with a poorly formulated excuse.

“What happened was a mistake.” 

Yunho physically deflates and lets the chair go, the tension on your shoulders lifting a little now that he’s not as close. 

“What?” 

“It was a mistake, we shouldn’t have done that. We’re professionally obligated to work together, fake all of this together, so it shouldn’t…” You pause and consider for a bit before doing something you never do: take the blame “I shouldn’t have. I apologize.” 

Letting out a breath, you turn the chair and delete the misspelled rebrand to write it the correct way, heart too weak to even look at his reaction. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re never doing anything like it again. 

You hear him shuffle with the boxes at both your feet and, from the corner of your eye, you see him turning away from you and then back, hands on his hips “I don't think it was a mistake.” 

“Well, it was.” 

“I liked it.” 

That brings out a genuine, short lived laugh out of you “Thank you, I’m a great kisser.” 

You open your brother’s email and pretend there’s an urgent matter inside the contents of one of them until Yunho’s hand closes over yours, over the mouse. 

“Y/N.” 

There’s a lot of things about Jeong Yunho you hate: The swoop of his hair when there’s no gel on it, the free aspect to his nature you’re never going to get even if you try to, that one time he called you an ugly giant after wearing platforms for the first time ever. 

And the sweetness of his voice when he says your name, the plea you hear on it and the shudder it brings to your spirit. It shakes you, it moves you to look at him again, to actually take his feelings into consideration. 

He’s staring at you with so much hurt, it makes your heart sink into an abyss of guilt. 

“Hm?” 

“I think I like you.” 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

Your heart drowns deeper, your resentment towards the situation grows branches like the tree on the wall. They hug your pride and your ego, they poke you on your side for reciprocating Yunho’s feelings just a little. 

Well, a lot.

“You think?” You ask him and your voice sounds far away. He nods. You stand up from the chair, hand squeezing his before letting drop. “Stop thinking then.” 

His eyes closing shut and his jaw tensing is the last thing you see before you busy yourself with the boxes against the window. You pick up two at a time, heavy and the cardboard smelly as you walk to the other side of the office, away from him. 

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” 

You sigh “So am I, Yunho. You don’t like me, you liked that I kissed you.” 

“Oh, I forgot you know exactly what goes through my mind and my heart, thank you for the remainder!” 

Looking at him over your shoulder, you drop the boxes against the corner wall “Lower. Your. Voice.” 

“No, no. Because that’s not an appropriate response to what I just told you!” He walks towards you and you meet him halfway, heart beating with annoyance at the way he’s speaking to you. He towers over you again, jaw clenched and voice a mere murmur when he speaks again “You have no say in what I feel, how I feel it, when I feel it.” 

“I know I don’t, you idiot. I was just providing you with a bit of perspective.” 

“Perspective?”

“What do you like about me?” Chin up and nose scrunched in a way it only does when you’re really angry, you insist “Why now? Why do you suddenly care? Is it out of pity? Is it because it’s convenient, because we’re already pretending? Is it because you want to fuck me?!”

“Watch it, Y/N.” His tone is laced with clear offense at what you offered just a second ago. 

“You don’t like me,” you start, shaking your head, “you can’t like me.” 

“Why not?!” 

He’s breathing hard, walking backwards, offering up his palms to the sky and looking around the room like any of that is going to give him an answer to his questions. 

“Why not?” He repeats and there’s that hurt in his voice that, for some reason, makes your eyes water. Are you having a panic attack? A heart attack? Everything hurts. Liking Yunho hurts, wanting him hurts. He comes back, his eyes searching yours even though you can’t do anything but cast them down, to your shoes and his shoes and the boxes and the carpet “Why can’t I like you, princess? What’s not to like? What kind of self-deprecating ideas do 

you have in your head that makes you think I can’t care about you like that?”

Shaking your head again and closing your eyes, you are barely able to stifle a sob and force your tears back. You want to tell him that that’s not the reason but you would be lying to him if you did. 

That’s part of the reason. 

Behind the whole letting your mother’s win argument, there’s an undeniable amount of self hatred that can’t let you feel like there’s any truth behind his words. 

Why would he like you? Why would he care about you? 

Your hands are dirty and sticky and your being is way too clumsy, so everything you love drops and breaks and turns to dust before your eyes. The fact that there’s this whole fake relationship deal in the middle of it and you can place the blame on your mothers is a blessing in disguise. 

It’s a weapon you can use. 

Even if you don’t want to: His hands are cradling your face, his forehead dropping against yours and drawing a surprised gasp out of you because you didn’t even feel him get him close. 

“I like you, I care about you,” there’s certainty in his tone, like he made up his mind, like he’s confirming his feelings to both you and himself, “I… I—” He takes a breath when you open your eyes and beg him to not say what you think he’s about to say. He takes the hint. “Do you not like me back, Y/N? Are you trying to… Is that what’s happening?” 

You say nothing, but swallow back your feelings and brace yourself on his forearms, nose budging his as you move a little. 

He reads your silence wrong “Y-you do?” 

You think it matters if you do or not. Your heart is already breaking by the time the words are on the tip of your tongue. 

“We can’t,” you whisper to him, letting your tears wet your cheeks and squeezing his forearms when his thumbs start to move in trying to dry them, shaking your head to signal him to stop. As your eyes catch his, you prepare yourself for the gentleness you’re about to lose, with the care you’re about to push away for his own good. “Because if we do, they win.” 

You didn’t know your heart could break this way, as you watch his expression morph from confusion to pain to utter, genuine anger. It’s the same face he made last week, in your living room, as he yelled at his mother for even daring suggesting that you two should be together. 

There’s a time when hurting Yunho brought you some sense of vengeance, a time where you considered it payback for being that person literally planned and made for you. 

Now, you want to hit your head against the wall for even daring filling his eyes with tears, for being the reason frustration descends and wets his shoes as he looks down. 

“Oh.” 

He lets you go and you miss it. You immediately want to take your words back, push him closer to you, hug him, kiss him, whatever it may be to keep him next to you.

You start to mourn the loss of the bond you were able to form with him right away. 

And it hurts. 

He nods again. And it hurts. “Oh, that’s what this is about.” 

It fucking hurts. When he laughs, hands on his face as he wipes his tears away, you feel like you’re going to pass out. 

“And you don’t care about me enough to tell them to go fuck themselves.” He says, a resentful statement that leaves his lips before a breathy laugh does. 

Opening your mouth, you attempt to contradict his words. That’s not true at all, he has to understand, he understands you, he— He raises his hand to stop you from speaking, he shakes his head like he doesn’t want to hear it. 

Like your excuses, even if he hasn't listened to them at all, are not worth his time. 

“I get it.” No, you don’t. “I understand.” No, you really don’t. 

But you say nothing. As he’s slipping through your fingers like sand, at your own doing, you just stare at him with sorrowful eyes and an apology on your teeth. 

He looks at you like he’s expecting you to stop him as he reaches the door. You want to, you really do. 

You don’t. 

“Thanks for letting me know.”

When the door closes behind him and leaves you alone in an office that’s not really yours, feeling like you’re not yourself, you finally allow the reality of what you just did to hit you. 

Hand shaking, you cover your mouth and let out a sob as you let yourself cry what you just lost. But, as you do, you remind yourself that you don’t really deserve Yunho’s care. 

You don’t really deserve his love. 

Hurting him is probably the easiest way out he has of whatever he thinks he’s feeling for you. 

Walking slowly to the desk, you wipe your tears away and nod to yourself. Yes, this is exactly what needed to happen. Good. Yes. What were you doing before he came in? 

You grab the mouse. 

Ah, the proposal. Of course. 

The noise comes back, louder this time. Unbearable and ear-piercing, it forces you to close your eyes and listen to the beat of your heart before you push the sound away. You can’t afford to crash right now.

You skim through your tasks in your mind and, as you do, the reminder of a little notification you saw on your calendar this morning, with Yunho’s name on it, is what finally lets the panic break through your senses. 

“No.” 

And you spend the rest of the afternoon typing your escape plan away. 

By the time your brother remembers he has an office, it’s dark outside and the proposal is

printed and in a folder placed neatly in the middle of his desk. 

He closes the door, raising an eyebrow at the way you’re resting your shoulder against the window behind his chair, the boxes blocking them all piled up in the corner you initially started moving them to this afternoon. 

“You’re still here.” He muses and you turn to him, scoffing at the obvious. 

“Well, somebody has to work.” 

“I was working,” he sounds a little bit offended, but when he passes in front of you and pulls back his chair to sit on it, you faintly smell whisky and cigarettes. “I was at a meeting in the gentlemen's club with Gunho.” 

“That’s hardly working, Soohyun.” 

Looking over his shoulder, he’s face to face with your unimpressed expression. Of course he went to the stupid club with Gunho, of course he didn’t do shit today. 

“Let me remind you that I am, in fact, older than you.” 

“And?”

“I deserve respect and zero questioning.” 

You hum, slightly amused this time. You know he’s goofing around, you know he’s hardly mad at the implication that you do all the work he’s supposed to do plus yours but there’s this slight worry in his face that’s unusual.  

“Is Gunho oppa okay?” 

Your brother frowns “Of course he is.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m— Why are you asking?” 

Shrugging, you turn away from him to look at the city through the window again. You can see the river and the buildings that encapsulate it perfectly and it brings you a strange sense of comfort everytime you zone out and just people watch those who feel free enough to walk along the bridge at this hour, with the cold and the rain and the mess that the leaves leave behind as they fall. 

“You look distraught.” 

“Well, you’ve been crying, of course I am.” 

Interesting. You didn’t think he could tell, which means your face is puffy and you look ugly. Great. 

“The mess in this office made me tear up when I got in this afternoon,” you say, swerving around the accusation with ease because there’s no way in hell you’re telling your brother what’s up with you. “I’m going to need your help when it comes to explaining that to dad.” And then you use your chin to point to the proposal sitting in front of him. 

“You didn’t have to do this today, I know sales are low but-” 

“Oh, that’s not it. That one is sitting on your email. This—” you take two steps, tap the front of the folder with your nails, “is a new thing. A thing he won’t understand nor approve unless you understand it and approve it.” 

And then you move back to your position by the window, staring at the lights and the buildings one more time without explaining anything else. When you hear the flick of the pages being turned, you know he understands how serious you’re about it. No space for debating, no time for complaining: you need him to get it done now, and so he will. 

Because your brother can be a lot of things but he’s not dumb. 

And he can read a room like no other except maybe you. 

Seconds turn into minutes and then the clock ticks and blends together as you wait, shoulder hurting by the time your brother lets out a heavy sigh. 

“No, I won’t approve this.” 

Definitely not what you wanted to hear. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You want to—” 

Defensiveness floats you, over-stimulates your senses and makes you see red at the rejection of your proposal “I want to expand our market, our clientele, our opportunities to keep this company on top. Can you relate?” 

“Y/N…” He scowls at your attack, at your tone “You’re running.” 

“I’m doing something for the company!” 

You think your roar is heard all the way to the first floor. Soohyun stares at you wide-eyed, mouth agape for a second before he closes it again. He has to fix his tie, his suit ironed for once as he takes the jacket off and discards it against the chair. 

Brat, princess, annoying little sister. You know that’s what he calls you, he has called you that ever since you were a child and in the most endearing way possible. You have yelled at him before, you have stomped your foot and cried and moaned until you got your way, until he agreed to let you do something. 

You have never screamed at him like this before, though. 

It shows in the way your chest rises and falls quickly, in the way he has to take a calming breath to not yell back at you. Your eyes are full with tears when he looks up and the crease of his brow disappears because, even though you both could be closer and understand each other better, he still is your brother. 

Your brother, who loves you and cares about you in his own way. 

It proves more difficult to let him see the real you, more difficult than what it felt with Yunho or with anyone else. 

So when the tears fall down your cheeks, you wipe them away quickly and pretend they were never there. 

“I don’t know what the hell happened,” he starts, calm, taking a step into your direction and raising his hand and you recoil a bit out of habit. He hesitates for a few seconds but then he’s squeezing your shoulder and pulling you into a tight hug that feels unfamiliar, unusual and weird until it doesn’t. You melt into the embrace because you need it, because it allows you to let go of your frustration and cry it out on your brother’s chest, “but you’re going to explain it to me whether you like it or not. And only then, I will consider saying yes to your proposal.” 

When you pull away to look at him, it’s with a pout and a scowl that draws a breathy laugh out of him. 

“Stupid.” He pushes you away a little before pulling you back in for a hug, “Always keeping things to yourself instead of letting me take the weight of it all. Stupid.” 

It takes a few minutes, but when the hug doesn’t seem necessary and your usual disgust for physical touch comes back into your system, he allows you to take two steps back and clean your face with the back of your hand. 

“Haven’t seen you cry since you were a child,” he whispers and you shrug, ignoring the fact that your heart stings at the comment. “What happened?” 

You tell him everything that night. 

Yunho hasn’t seen you in three months. 

Which, at first, came as relief. He didn’t want to see your face ever again after the things you confirmed to him back in your brother's office. Who needed you, right? He told himself his mother loved enough to understand the sudden change of heart, although she doesn’t exactly know what happened between you in the first place. 

Maybe he should’ve been honest when he got the chance, back in your house, the afternoon they told you both about the pr relationship. 

He was so close to telling the truth, too, when he walked out of the living room and into the hallway to clear his head and not scream at his mother in front of yours. It was there, at the tip of his tongue, and then his mother appeared in front of him with that spark behind her eye that could only mean one thing: it didn’t matter what the truth was, he was going to do this even if it killed him inside. 

Her words the next second confirmed it and he wondered right then if his freedom was worth the suffering:

“Either you do this or I’ll make sure you’re never able to dance again, Jeong Yunho. No more public university, no more friends, no more staying at the dorm, just your father’s company,” and he was about to refuse, yet again, she raised her finger as a warning. “I mean it. Y/N is perfect to clear the company’s image but if we can’t use her then we’ll have to work twice as hard as we do now to clear it.” 

And Yunho would rather fake an entire life with you than work for the man who single handedly ruined his life the second he was born. He didn’t hate his father, he thought about him like a concept he would never understand even when he desperately tried to, but he would never become part of his company.

Not in the way his mom suggested, anyway. 

He just needed to get through college, pretend to be interested in the family business and then land a freelancer job elsewhere, in a foreign company maybe, one who didn’t seem a threat to his father’s and then move on his own when he had enough money saved. 

Independence. He needed independence. Strangely enough, he needed you to gain that independence even though you meant the exact opposite to him, in his head. 

So he doesn’t know why he yelled at you that afternoon. To take it all out, maybe? He thought he hated you back then, too.

He had already agreed to it in the hallway, to his mom. 

He had already agreed to it the second he was born. 

Which is crazy because that’s not a normal experience to have. And if you were born a boy or him a girl, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. You’d be friends, like Gunho and Soohyun, and maybe he’d be forced to be with someone that wasn’t shoved down his throat for so long. 

Imagine his surprise when he kissed you back that night in his dorm. No, scratch that, imagine his surprise when he started liking you the second you showed your true colors to him. 

You’re not perfect by any means, but neither is he and it only took you allowing him to enter a little bit into your mind, into your heart, into your soul, for him to fall for you hard. Or maybe he always liked you? His mind didn’t allow him to sleep at all when you left, but it didn’t allow him to go and follow you that same night either, so the conundrum continued to torture him until it didn’t. 

After the fight in the office, he went home and sat in his childhood bedroom for a while. He had dinner with his brother when he came home to look for some documents in his father’s home office and then he went back to his dorm and stared at the ceiling until Yeosang came back from wherever he’s been disappearing to these days. 

He pretended everything was fine under Yeosang’s scrutinizing gaze but his friend and roommate knew him so much it only took less than a week for his sudden mood to reach the ears of the rest of the friend group. 

Not so subtle messages started entering his phone. He answered all of them and then used the excuse of being on the app to check your chat in case you sent a message and it didn’t notify him for some reason. He told them everything was okay, that he was feeling a bit under the weather. 

And he managed to convince them until he checked his calendar one day (the one he shared with you) and realized all foreseeable events had been cancelled. You had another meeting where you two needed to coexist, a company dinner with both your team and Gunho’s team that he needed to go to as your plus one and, surprisingly enough, a paparazzi session scheduled by your mother that you needed to first prepare to and then do. 

All of this was explained to him by his PR assistant. It surprised him to see that many postponed and canceled the app. It angered him to assume you canceled everything just because you didn’t want to see him. 

He didn’t want to see you either, but he had to. Weren’t you the one who more than once scolded him for not being professional enough? 

Ha! 

It was his opportunity to tease you about it. And so, when he was told to go to your brother’s office the next day, he had this whole speech ready to go. He would tell you to stop being so dumb, that a kiss and his feelings is something that can be ignored. That he needed you both to forgive and forget. 

Yunho needs to continue his plan, even if his own heart breaks in the process. And as he got down the elevator and walked the hall to reach the office, his heart desperately asked him to reconsider. Because there, while pushing the door handle to enter the space he dreaded to be a week prior, Yunho realized he wanted to ask you to be his again. 

When he found nothing but Soohyun on his chair, his conviction deflated and his ego sank to the ground. 

“Yunho!” Your brother sprung out of his chair, excitingly rounding his desk until he reached for him. Arm around his shoulders, Yunho raised a brow at the sudden animosity. “Were you expecting someone else?” 

“N-no.”

“Right.” 

He knew Soohyun could call his bullshit from a mile away. But it didn’t matter, he was already sitting down in front of him in the new couches facing each other. He wanted to point it out, but Soohyun beat him to it. 

“Your friend Park Seonghwa has amazing taste.” 

“Ah,” he breathed out a laugh, a nervous chuckle that made him gasp for air a second after, “yeah. He, um, was top of his class before he graduated.”

“I can tell,” Soohyun nodded and looked around, scrunching his nose in a way that reminded Yunho of you. “Y/N is not going to be available for the next few months.”

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I know you came here looking for her and we’ve known each other since you were born, Yunho, I think we can skip the shitty formalities.” 

“Hyung…”

Soohyun shaked his head, laughing with a relaxed sincerity that is such a Soohyun thing to do “There’s never not been a moment in my life where my sister doesn’t surprise me. I know you know her and I know you two have grown… Closer since this whole PR thing started but I don’t think you can grasp the full Y/N effect until you live with her, you know?”

He didn’t. Not at all. 

“She crafted in four, maybe five hours a project that would’ve taken me at least a month to sit down and write,” he explained and Yunho swallowed thickly, the lump on his throat going down. “And she wanted to get it done as soon as she got the approval from dad. So, I hope you understand that she couldn’t exactly give you a notice before postponing and cancelling your shared schedule.” 

Ah. So you didn’t want to speak to him at all. He scoffed, annoyed. “So she asked you to tell me?” 

“Nope. In fact, I’m pretty sure she would kill me if she knew I’m meeting with you at all.” 

Yunho blinked, confused. 

“Oh.”

“But I love you like a brother, Yunho. You’re my family, you’re her family even though she hates it and I realized recently that the four of us need to stick together. If everything else goes to shit, we’ll still have us.” 

The four of you. Including him and Gunho. 

“And as a family, we owe each other honesty. We owe each other loyalty and forgiveness and understanding. You see where I’m going with this?” 

“No,” he admitted, frowning a bit. “What does any of that have to do with me and Y/N? We don’t like each other, I know you and Gunho noticed at some point. It’s the way things are supposed to be.” The words had a bitter taste, but he pushed through them. 

He sounded like you.

Soohyun let out a sigh and he got up from his seat to squeeze Yunho’s shoulder “She comes back in three months, Yunho. She’s doing something from the company but she has to come back, right?” 

Yunho shrugged, pretending the information didn’t spark something close to hope inside of him. 

“Understanding. That’s what we owe each other: Love and understanding… And lunch. Your brother actually owns me lunch, feel free to join us.” 

Your brother is the weirdest guy ever. However, he realized that as Soohyun walked out of the office and left him to consider his words, that he was already planning on telling you when you came back. 

He missed you already, too. 

And yet, he didn’t find the courage to tell you at all. It tormented him, greatly, vastly. It consumed him through his classes, his dance rehearsals, his performances. It tugged on his heart the days he had to go to the office and pretend he cared about the company, and through his hang outs with his friends. 

They asked about you all the time. He had to remind them you were on a business trip, he had to make up a story, he had to tell them the details were apparently confidential when he didn’t even know where you were.

He could’ve just called you. He could’ve just asked you. 

His finger over your contact on his phone while he sits in Wooyoung's room during a house party, in the dark. 

He could just ask you. 

He–

“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?” 

He drops his phone, the light of the screen going out as it lands down on the bed. 

“Holy shit, Mingi!” 

 A light turns on and he squints his eyes at the sudden intrusion. 

“You scared the shit out of me!”

“I walked in here like five minutes ago,” his best friend deadpans and Yunho pouts like a child. “You know, I’m starting to feel like I don’t mean that much to you anymore.”

That offends him deeply and he scowls before tossing a pillow in his direction  “What the hell are you even saying?” 

“I’m a patient person, Yunho,” he catches the pillow and tosses it back, “and I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what's been going on for the last month and half but you keep saying everything’s fine.” 

“Because everything’s f—” 

“No, it’s not!” 

Mingi is tired, he can tell. He’s been holding his worries inside since the day he told everyone about his relationship with you and Yunho feels awful. This is that part of his life that’s hard to talk about. He only explained to Mingi about the dreadful desire that his father has of making him work for him around a year ago and he’s known Mingi for so long at this point that it does feel a little like he doesn’t trust him enough. 

But it’s hard and he has kept his feelings and desires buried for so long he thinks he might’ve accidentally dragged his feelings for you along with it and now they’re all mixed up and scratching the walls of their enclosure, begging to come out of him. 

“I’m not used to push people around to tell them about their feelings but you’re my best friend and—” 

“I kissed Y/N.” 

Mingi stops mid sentence, blinking a few times before moving to sit beside him on the bed. Yunho hopes, as he faintly hears the music outside of the room getting louder and Wooyoung screaming something that he can’t exactly make up, that Mingi doesn’t think he’s suddenly confessing his afflictions out of pressure. 

Instead, the words came out of his mouth like he couldn’t resist telling them in the first place. After keeping it to himself for weeks, nearly three months, it finally feels like breathing a little. 

“O… kay.” He says as a response and it’s Yunho’s turn to blink at him in disbelief, Mingi laughs a little. “So you kissed the girl you like. Isn’t that something to be happy about?” Yunho gapes at the insinuation of Mingi knowing he likes you, except, it doesn’t come as a surprise. His friends are very observant, to his absolute horror they can’t be fooled. “Did she reject you? Is that what’s going on?” 

“No! I mean, yes. We… She kissed me first!” He defends himself, taking a quick inhale before cursing softly under it. “And then I kissed her. And then we kissed and she left and she ghosted me for a little, actually. And then I saw her in her office, that's not actually her office but her brother’s, and I… I kind of confronted her? And then she rejected me.” 

By the time he finishes his rambles, Mingi looks amused and a little worried. 

“You have to be in this… Fake relationship with her and that’s tormenting you, then? Because she rejected you?” 

“No, that’s not… We’re not— I am, we are still in the fake relationship, it’s just that she’s gone.” 

“She died?!” 

“What? No! No, she’s,” Yunho closes his eyes, laughing at the assumption because he knows Mingi said it to get that exact response in return, “she’s not dead. She, um, she’s on that business trip.” 

“Oh, that’s right! You told us—”

“I lied.”

“What?” 

His poor best friend looks confused beyond belief and that guilt of not telling him everything creeps in once more, threatening to shut him up until he reminds himself Mingi is trustworthy and deserves some clarity. 

“She is on a business trip, I just don’t know why or how or where she is,” he finishes softly, his lips in a line and revealing just how uneasy that makes him feel. “I don’t know where she is and I think that she left because I— Well, when she rejected me we didn’t end up on the best of terms.”

“So you think it’s your fault.” Mingi finishes with a nod, letting out a sigh a second after. “Well, it’s not.” 

“It kind of is, though.” 

“Yunho, it’s not. She’s a grown up, if she decides to run away from her feelings instead of facing them she’s kind of a dumbass.” 

“Mingi!” Yunho’s pushing him a bit with his hand on his shoulder before he can help it. 

“She is!” Laughing, his best friend takes no offense at the push and instead pushes him back, teasingly. “Remember that one party you had at your place, when your parents were gone on that business trip with your brother?” 

“Oh, that party?” 

“Yeah, that party,” Mingi nods, looking away for a second, something shining in his face Yunho realizes he’s longing for. He wants that to shine on him, too: the security that being with the right person brings you. “Love tried to run away from an argument that night, too. I just didn’t let her.” 

“Are you calling your girlfriend a dumbass?” 

“Yeah,” and instead of saying it with a grudge, the confirmation comes out of a place filled with, well, love. “She was a dumbass back then, at least.” 

“Y/N is not like that at all,” Yunho says after a bit, “she’s not a dumbass for running away from this. Our thing… It’s kind of different. We’ve been put in this situation since we were kids and we hated, like actually hated each other for a while. We treated each other so badly, Mingi, you have no idea the way she gets under my goddamn skin sometimes,” and despite saying it like it’s a bad thing, he can’t help but smile. Mingi notices this, too. “You know I don’t have the best relationship with my parents, right? Well, hers is way worse.” 

“Wait, you told us that this relationship was something to clear your company’s image?” Mingi recalls and Yunho feels another pang of guilt against his ribcage. 

“It is! It totally is, it’s just… Well, she was born a girl and I was born a boy and our parents have a very, um, old-fashioned concept of love and what it’s supposed to look like. It was decided a long time ago that we were going to end up together.” 

There’s a few seconds of silence before Mingi bursts out laughing so hard it drowns the noise from outside the room. 

“That’s funny to you?” Yunho asks, light-hearted and smiling at the sound of his best friend's laugh. 

“No, no, it’s just… Your parents are forcing you two together for some weird legacy, bloodline reason and you fell for the girl you’re in a fake relationship with and you’re supposed to hate?” 

Now that he hears it like that…

“Basically, yeah.” 

“Oh, San’s girl is about to have a field trip with this information.”

“Dude!” 

“What? It’s dumb! Y/N is a dumbass, you’re dumber for not just calling her and telling her you miss her and you’re both really fucking dumb for not telling your parents to fuck off. You’re grown!” 

Yunho sighs, shaking his head. “She doesn’t like me like that, Mingi.”

“Yes, she does!” He laughs again, covering his mouth with his hand once he realizes Yunho is getting annoyed with it. “Yunho… Ugh, is this how you all felt those few months where I was crying over Love?” 

“I didn’t feel anything.” 

“Because you’re a puppy,” Mingi’s shoulder brushes against his in a not so subtle way of teasing him and his eyes blank in pretend annoyance. “You are. And you’re a pretty great guy, Yunho. If she doesn’t like you back it’s not the end of the world.” 

Yunho nods, but he’s suddenly not as convinced as he should be. 

“And you’re also one of the strongest people I know, in here.” Mingi’s finger taps over his heart on his chest. “But you don’t have to carry your burdens on your own. This is all… It all seems pretty dumb to me but it must be really hard on you, hm? Especially since you want to live a life separate from your family, right?” 

That, Mingi knows. “Mhm.”

“And so does Y/N?”

“No, I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs back and his heart aches when he thinks about you and the way you’re treated home, in the way your mother has treated you in front of him. “I think she thinks she’s nothing without her family but I also think she was raised to believe that. They… Well, even her brother has a hard time seeing how fucking amazing she is.” 

“Is she?” Mingi drops his head to the side, doubt and a little prejudice on his expression. “Is she fucking amazing, Yun?” 

“She’s… She’s such a good person. Which is really crazy for me to say, because I thought she was a spoiled brat for a long time. And she is! But she’s also… She cares so deeply and she’s enjoys painting and she’s so great with kids and—” 

“And you have it bad,” Mingi laughs again, shoving him against the mattress with a push and standing up from the bed. Yunho laughs, recognizing the amount of pushing as tipsy Mingi behavior and nothing else. “So bad. Were you about to call her?” 

He feels called out and a little shy about it. He blushes and all. 

“Maybe.”

When his focus goes back to his phone, it’s when he hears it. 

And his heart drops to his ass. 

A distant curse and the sound of a call ending is enough to send his mind into a new, different spiral. 

“Was that…?” 

Yunho picks up the phone, checks the last call he made and your name appears next to the nine minutes and a half his conversation with Mingi lasted. 

His mouth runs dry, his throat closes as he turns to screen to show it to Mingi.

“Holy fuck.” 

“What do I do?” 

“That’s insane. San’s girl is going to have the best night of her life.” 

“Mingi!” He blocks the phone, tosses it on the bed and gets up to shake his best friend's shoulders. “What. Do. I. Do. Now.” 

Your heart still beats like the day you not-so-accidentally listened to a conversion you shouldn’t have. 

There’s the distant memory of your phone vibrating under your pillow at the hotel you were staying at for the night. It happened only a few weeks ago, near the three month mark into your trip around the country, looking for businesses worth the investment in little towns. That far into your adventure, you had met at least a dozen small companies worth every penny inside your father’s pocket, more so than the one’s already signed. You had met wonderful people who didn’t exactly know who you were and you had been treated so kindly it made the ache in your chest go away. 

At least for a little bit. 

So when you sleepily read Yunho’s name on your screen at two am in the morning, the sting of the pain was unfamiliar and the first thing that crossed your mind was that something bad happened to your brother. Or his brother. Or him. 

What other reason did he have to call you when he left that office hating you all over again? 

“H-hello?” 

Nothing. Just silence and maybe a distant melody, the ruffling of the phone against something. 

“Yunho? If you called me to piss me off I swear to God—”

“Holy shit, Mingi! You scared the shit out of me!” 

Mingi? 

There’s a deeper voice you can hear on Yunho’s end and that’s when you realized he didn’t mean to call you in the first place.

And you should've hung up there. But you didn’t and so you listened to their entire conversation and realized one thing: 

Mingi was right. You are a dumbass. 

And Yunho is even dumber, but that’s something you would have to rub on his face when you gather the courage to see him again. That day is not today, you made sure of it. 

You see, you’ve changed just a tiny bit these past three months. It’s not like you went to a spiritual retreat but by crafting that proposal while fleeing your feelings and the mess that you made with just one kiss, you came around something you never experienced before. Not fully, at least: 

Freedom. 

You spent Christmas and New Years all alone, with no one dear to you around and you saw the fireworks from your hotel window and you felt and suddenly you understood what Yunho sees in in sleeping in that tiny dorm with a roommate and a pile of dirty clothes in a corner, with no pushing their way into the room to pick his messes up and no one making sure he eats at the correct time, the correct meals and the correct porcelain for the day.

No rules, no conditions, just a place where he can be free and himself. 

You did all of that while also making sure you didn’t abandon your priorities. You went to sleep late because you wanted to and then you went to bed early the next day because there were no rules, no events you needed to attend to, no photographers asking you to smile.

There was no one to tell you that you looked fat after eating one delicious, non dietetic meal. There was no devil (your mom) whispering in your ear how everyone would notice the carbs, the bloat and the tiny zits. 

There was no one there to stop you from cutting your hair. And so you did. What once was kept long and straight in order to keep a traditional, clean look, now rested in waves on your shoulders,

It makes it so much easier to walk out of the shower, in less time too! 

And although your heart yearned for Yunho everyday, especially after hearing his conversation with Mingi at two in the morning when you weren’t even supposed to, it was the first time in years you felt happy enough to drop the mask, the pretences, the good posture and even the makeup. 

Yup, you went out without makeup three times! That’s some information that would send your mother into cardiac arrest at the very least. 

So now, as you try to move fast through a college campus that’s not yours, with a box that contains something you call an apology and it might not even be, your heart is beating with the same amount of strength just at the thought of all this backfiring. 

Because you’re not ready to see Yunho, not yet. You want him to come and find you, to come and tell you if he wants to accept you back into his life, under his terms, after you so insistently kicked him out of yours. 

You sneakily checked his calendar. You bribed your assistant, who bribed his assistant, so now his schedule for the week is in a screenshot on your phone and you have checked it four times to confirm this is a good time to be here. 

He has dinner with his family and yours (who don’t even know you’re back yet) at his house, on the hill, which is forty minutes away from his campus. That’s exactly the window of opportunity you’ve been waiting for since coming back. 

And you came back a week ago. 

You may or may not have memorized the code for the door from that only time you came to his dorm and so it’s not really a surprise when you quickly enter it and hear a screech behind you when you are busy closing the door. 

When you turn around, Yeosang is shirtless and covering his chest with his hands “Y/N!”

“Yeosang.” You say with a small bow, struggling to not laugh and turning your face away, looking at the postered up wall. “So nice to see you here, in your room.” 

“W-what are you… I mean how do you… Should I call Yun—” 

“No!” When you turn to him again, eyes wide with worry, he has a shirt on and his phone in his hand. “Please don’t… Let me do something real quick and then you can speak to him, okay?” 

You start to fumble with the box, placing it at the end of the bed and opening it up fast. You throw the lid on top of Yeosang’s bed and then get to work, pulling everything out. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I hate lying to my friends, Y/N.”

“And you’re such a great friend for that but you won’t be lying to him because I’m not asking you to do that.” 

“I wouldn’t even if you did ask me to.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that…” 

Okay, so you changed a little bit. Not a lot. 

You sigh, struggling with the placement of your gift/apology because Yunho changed his sheets and so the color scheme it’s not perfect anymore. 

“What’s all of this?” 

“Yunho enjoys dancing,” you start and you see him nod from the corner of your eye, so you smile. “He told me he did it to have this dorm but I didn’t buy it at all, and so when I was on my trip I… Sort of thought of him a little bit, not a lot.” You clear your throat, a slight heat creeping up your cheeks. “But I didn’t want to wait another day without giving this to him. I just… I can’t exactly be here when he sees it.” 

You finish, turning back to Yeosang and you realize you’re out of breath, nervousness creasing your brows. 

“Would you please let me know how he reacts to it the next time we see each other?” You ask softly, almost shy and Yeosang visibly relaxes at the tone. It makes you feel understood somehow and so you relax a little bit, too. “If you’re here when he gets here I mean, um, you are all dressed up.” 

When you point to his outfit, he seems to remember that he was, in fact, getting ready to go out when you walked in. His hair is wet but styled and all. 

“Oh, I was… I was just going to the club.” He points to a camcorder on his beat and you raise a curious brow, but don’t really ask anything. “I’m making a dance documentary for one of my classes. Yunho is in it, too.” 

That peaks your interest and he laughs, possibly at the way you light up at the mention of your fake-boyfriend-possible-love-of-your-life name. “He is?” 

“Yes, he’s… A big part of it, actually, but I go to this club to get footage and… You should ask him to explain it to you.” 

Now, at that, your smile sure turns sour because there’s no actual way of knowing if he wants to see you again or not. 

After all, he didn’t attempt to contact you after that phone call. 

You don’t know if he noticed that he called you, either. 

It’s kind of killing you inside, all the space you need to fill with assumptions instead of facts. 

“Sure, um…” 

“I can stay until he comes back.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to ruin your plans for the night, Yeosang. You should go and—”

“I want to see it. I want to record it,” he explains, looking over your shoulder and into the gift in Yunho’s bed. “He says he’s not sure, but I think he wants to dedicate his life to it, you know?” 

“To dancing?” 

Yeosang nods. 

Your voice sounds very small when you ask him “Do you think he’s going to like it?” 

He smiles, softly, endeared almost.

“He’s going to love it,” he assures you, “And your haircut, too.” 

You chuckle at that, touching the ends of it that rest on your shoulder “You think?” 

“Yeah! It suits you, actually.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.” 

This time, and after making small talk with his roommate, you leave Yunho’s dorm with a smile on your face instead of tears running down your cheeks. 

There’s exhaustion pouring out of Yunho by the time he reaches his dorm door. He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against the cool wood of it and lets out a sigh to collect himself. He needs to have the energy to take a shower, after all. 

It’s not as late as he expected it to be, the digital clock on the wall glows blue and neon and lets him know it’s around nine thirty. Good, that’s great. 

He misses you. 

And it’s hard not to think of you when he’s surrounded with people who know you, who bring you up when it’s time to talk about positive results for the company, or the time you organized an event for you mother because your brother had no taste to pick the venue or catering or whatever the fuck they were going on about tonight. 

It didn’t escape him that Soohyun glanced at him every time your parents brought you up and he wonders if it shows in his face just how much he longs to see you again.

He’s thinking about your face when the room unexpectedly lights up and Yeosang is standing on his own bed, in the corner, smiling like a creep. Yunho almost falls as a curse slips past his lips and he stares at his friend like something is deeply wrong with him. 

Because it is. 

It’s almost comical how breathless he is as he asks him: “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Hey!” 

“—Standing in the corner like a serial killer.”

“Turn around, Yunho.” 

“What?” 

“Turn,” he repeats, slowly, as he climbs out of the bed, the camera pointed in his direction still. “Around.” 

So he does. 

And what he sees… Confuses him. Until it doesn’t. 

There’s a few things on his bed: There’s some polaroid pictures lined up, different people he doesn’t know in them, all in different traditional attire and Yunho can see there’s inscription in them, the dates all read from early november to two weeks ago. 

There’s tickets to a competition that’s supposed to be sold out. He knows, he tried to get a ticket the second they announced it but couldn’t. The top dance teams are going to battle for some bucks but, most importantly, they’re going to battle to keep the dying scene alive. 

A book titled Why Dance Matters next to a golden retriever plushie with a suit that makes him giggle out of the pure weirdness of it. 

There’s a copy of grease with some signatures in the front. He can make out something that reads as Barry Pearl in it, he thinks. His mind reels at what that means. 

A cd in a clear case with a beautiful sunset and a building he recognizes immediately as the orphanage you took him to. Six silhouettes he can only imagine symbolizes him, Jaemi, Hyunjoon, his brother, Soyi and you. 

But what confirms it’s something you did, it’s the envelope that sits in the middle of it all. It's waxed and sealed with something that looks regal, elegant and, when he picks it up to see the seal up close, he smells your perfume. 

He turns to Yeosang, eyes watery, in request of an explanation. 

“Open it! I’ve been dying to read it but I’m a great friend,” Yeosang almost wiggles with excitement and Yunho’s eyes water a little. “Or so she said.” 

“She was here?” 

“Y/N?” His friend asks in return, weirded out. “Well, yes.” 

“When?” 

“An… hour and something ago.” 

“Where did she go?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He’s speechless, envelope shaking a bit in his hand as he pushes the need to run to you away. He doesn’t know what this means, he doesn’t know what the letter says either. His heartbeats are thumping on his ears and muffling Yeosang’s words a little bit. 

He needs to calm down. 

He needs to read the letter. He’s–

“You’re crying,” Yeosang turns off the camcorder, closing the screen and tossing it softly on his bed before taking a few steps in his direction. Concern is written all over his face, a little bit of guilt too. “I shouldn’t have let her in, right? I knew something was off with you but I had no idea that you two had fought or—” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Yunho quickly dries off his tears, shaking his head at his friend’s anxious apology. “I just… I missed her so much, Yeo.” 

“Oh.” 

“So fucking much.” 

“Yunho…” He closes his eyes and jumps a little a Yeosang’s sudden embrace, but he’s grateful for it. Envelope trap between his chest and Yeosang’s rib, he takes a bated breath filled with things he can’t quite burden his friend with. 

He remembers Mingi’s words loud and clear, but the only thing Yunho wants to do right now is find where you are so he can see you again. Hug you again. Kiss you again. 

That night, after he realized he had dialed your number by mistake, he had a full on breakdown in Wooyoung’s room and it took Mingi and Mingi’s girlfriend to talk him out of fleeing the country out of embarrassment, out of guilt. He thought back then he had definitely lost you, because the consensus the three of them came to was a ‘let her reach you if she wants to clear things out’ instead of a ‘call her and explain it yourself before she has the chance to reach out to you first’. 

Mingi said you had to at least prove you had any interest in making things right, in fighting to at least keep your friendship with him. 

As he opens up the letter, he immediately knows he should’ve just called you. 

He even forgets Yeosang is right beside him, looking away to give him some privacy to read your words without actually letting go of the embrace, just in case he needs it. Yunho knows this, he’s thankful, his legs shaking with need to go after wherever you are. 

And he’s about to ask again but, as he turns his head to regard his friend and explains the letter a little, he’s one step ahead of him. 

“She’s staying in a hotel, not her house.” Yunho opens and closes his mouth, about to ask him the name of the hotel when he shakes his head. “The luxury one in Itaewon. What? Did you think I would let her go without getting the information first?” 

Yunho shrugs, Yeosang clicks his tongue in disappointment, letting go of him and putting, at least, ten steps between the both of them. 

“She’s very talkative when she’s not with a big crowd, Yun. Now move.” 

“I think I—” He starts to say but stops midway, looking down at the letter and then at his friend again. 

Yeosang gives him a soft smile, the one he curves on his lips when he’s endeared with something, with someone. Yunho went clubbing with him once, he knows the smile very well. 

“I know,” he says in a murmur and then sighs like it’s a task to be around him. “Now, let’s go. We’re going to the same area anyway and I could use the ride. There’s the box.” 

In the car (one he ordered from an app, not his family car), his leg moves up and down and his hands tremble with anticipation and, as the imposing structure of the hotel comes into view while he stares at the window, he swears he feels at ease. 

For the first time in months, he feels like he’s home. 

And it’s all because he’s about to see you again. 

Yeosang is not a very discreet person. He’s soft spoken and he looks like he cares about his friend’s a great deal, but he has that clumsiness of a person who’s used to being transparent about things. 

He asked you if you just got home with a spark of hopefulness in his eye, like he couldn’t wait to clue in Yunho about it, like he knew what he was going to do when he read your letter and saw your gift. 

Yeosang asked you like Yunho had already forgiven you and that had filled you silly head with warmth and hope and expectations you shouldn’t have because, as far as you noticed, Yunho is not the most honest friend to have. 

So you asked yourself if Yeosang knew about the fight, if the rest of his friends knew. 

And you still told Yeosang where you are staying. 

There’s only one lamp helping with lighting up the bedroom, the city outside of it alive and busy like it always is. The amount of lights beyond the river bring you comfort, something familiar spreads on your chest when you take them in and you admit, for the first time in three months plus the week you’ve been staying here, that you love this stupid city even if it makes you feel trapped most of your days.

But here? In this space that you have made yours over the last seven days? You love it. 

Your hair is wet and your face is clean of any product. You told yourself to go about your night routine like you weren’t expecting something else to happen. That way, when it doesn’t because you feel that what you did is unforgivable as much as it is cruel, you won’t be as disappointed. 

So your face is moisturized and you have your nightgown underneath the silk bath this hotel provides and you’re totally not thinking about Yunho being in the same city as you, you are totally not freaking out over the reaction to your gift, you’re chill. 

You’re chilling, you’re cool. 

And the way your heart leaps when you hear a knock at the door means nothing, because you ordered room service like thirty minutes ago. It’s fine. 

He’s probably not showing up. 

So why the hell is he there when you open the door? And where’s your room service when you need it? 

“Yunho!” 

“Y/N…” 

The atmosphere turns weird and tense right away and you grab onto the frame of the door as he stares at you with indecipherable emotion in his eyes. Is he happy to see you? Is he here to curse you out? 

Is he mad? He’s totally upset at you. He is, he’s… Skinnier, just a little bit. His hair is lighter, too, like a brownish blond that suits him and his skin tone and he looks so good even if there’s dark circles under his eyes. 

You missed him so much. 

“Come in! Um…” You say after what feels like hours of silence, of you two just staring at each other with a little disbelief, opening up the room door wider and stepping aside so he can pass right by you. 

His cologne makes you a little dizzy, drives you a little crazier but there’s not enough time to focus on that because he has the box you left earlier in his dorm in one hand and your letter in the other. 

You close the door, taking in a little calming breath that does nothing to appease the erratic beat of your heart. 

The eighty two square meters of this room suddenly feel like ten and when he puts the box down on the coffee table of the immediate tiny living room space of this suite, you feel like it’s over. 

He turns around, a hand on his hip and the shade that the lamp casts on him doesn’t allow you to determine if he’s clenching his jaw or not, if he’s upset or not, if he’s—

Yunho raises his hand, the one holding your letter. 

“What’s this?” 

Oh, he’s so upset. Okay, good, you foresaw this the moment you decided to give him something. It’s okay, you tell yourself as you walk the steps separating you and take the letter from his hand, you can deal with this. 

And, although you have changed a little in the months you didn’t see him, there’s a long way to go before your defensiveness stops being the only way you know how to approach a situation targeting you and your ego. 

“If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just thrown it away or burned it, Yunho, you didn’t have to come all the way here—” 

“Read it to me.” 

You look up at him, blinking once and then twice at his request. 

“Didn’t you—” 

“Princess,” he says, letting out a tiny breath in between his words, “read it to me. Please.” 

Now that you’re physically closer to him, you can pick up this gentleness in his features that you know well. It’s the same expression he had back in the orphanage, when Jiwoo took Jaemi in her arms and he was left staring at you with his cheek pressed on his forearm while he rested on the table. You think about that exact moment a lot, late at night, when the only thing overwhelming your thoughts it’s him. 

You swallow the lump on your throat down as you take out the letter from the envelope. It’s a little dark but there’s really no need for you to read the words when you know them by heart. You wrote and rewrote them at least a hundred times before deciding the letter looked good and that it wasn’t too long, too obnoxious, too sweet, too cringy. Just the right amount of emotion in case it came to bite you in the ass, like now. 

“S-sure,” you let out a sigh, past caring if he sees you’re a little affected by the situation as a whole. “Yunho, I’m sure you’re reading this after seeing the gift layed out in front of you. Take it as an expression of gratitude for all the times the mere thought of you got me through a day, even in this time when we’re supposed to be upset at each other. I think about you a lot and I think about what I did, too. I’m— This all sounds to stupid and formal,” you criticize your own work without thinking it through, frowning and looking up at him. “This letter is supposed to be an apology and it reads like an email.” 

Yunho shakes his head, a tiny smile tugging on his lips. “Go on, please.” 

Sniffing because you feel uncomfy and vulnerable, you continue.  

“I’m sure you’re wondering why now and not three months ago. Well, it takes a lot for me to defy the expectations people put on my shoulders. As you know, my last name is laced with success I didn’t work on and letting go of things you’re used to is hard, but I did. I went away, I learned, I grew up a little bit and in my journey the only constant was you. Not the fight we had, not the way we have treated each other throughout the many years I’ve known you. I’ve always seen your life from the outside even if I was a part of it, I’ve seen your social media posts and wondered if I wasn’t deserving of the same kindness you display to your friends on them but, as you proved to me that I am deserving of it, I understood that it wasn’t your voice in my head telling me I didn’t, it was mine.

“Not my mother’s voice, not anyone else's, but mine. Accepting that was hard but I did it and I did it on my own but as a result of the impact you had on me the second you turned around and held me with the care I now think I deserve.” Something drops on the paper, wets it and blends the ink of the pen you used together and you realize there’s tears running down your cheeks. “I can’t ask you to forgive me for what I did. But just know that I kissed you because I wanted to, not because you were being kind to me. And I pushed you away because, out of everyone that has come and gone from my life, you’re the only person who has the possibility to break my heart and mend it the times you seem fit…” 

You look up and to the side to wipe your tears. You’d pat yourself on the back for how you read this to him, without any stutters or mistakes, but the truth it’s that melancholy swallows you as you reach the end of the letter. It’s more emotional than what you’d remembered, too, now that you’re reading it outloud and in front of the man you love. 

There’s no need for you to read what comes next because you want to say it looking at him. 

“And I’m sorry. I love you and I don’t love you just because we kissed or because we are forced to be together. I love you because you’re part of me, because you’ve always been. I love you and I can’t stand to lose you. Again, I’m sorry,” you repeat, looking down at the words again before finishing in a whisper: “Yours, Y/N.” 

There’s this pregnant silence that follows that makes you fidget on your feet. It takes a second for you to gather yourself together again, wipe your cheeks and look up at Yunho. There’s disbelief in his expression and you wince in preparation for what’s about to follow. 

“Like I said,” you start again, extending the letter to him so he can take it, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to do anything, really, a-and I understand if this is all too childish or too cringy for you to say something back. I don’t need you to say something back! Really, I don’t,” you laugh amidst the sudden verbal vomit and shrug, not even looking at him anymore. “I j-just wanted you to know. And I mean it: If you don’t want me that way, it’s completely fine, Jeong. I also settle for being your friend, i-if that’s easier for everyone— For you, if that’s easier for you,” you correct yourself, “because I don’t really care what anyone thinks anymore, including my mother, she can go fuck herself and she can win all she wants if that means keeping you in my life and—” 

He grabs the letter and in a second he uses the tight hold you have on it to push you closer, tearing the paper in the process. 

“Kim Y/N, you big dummy.” 

He lets go of the letter and you do too, hands resting on his chest as you stumble forward a little, the paper falling to your feet as his right hand settles on your cheek, the left one on the nape of your neck. 

“Excuse me?” 

Yunho laughs, breathy and pointed while his eyes scan your face. “You heard me.” 

“Are trying to piss me off, Jeong Yun—” 

This time, when Yunho kisses you, it doesn’t feel new. It doesn’t feel like defiance, it doesn’t feel like you’re breaking the rules or letting your mom win. 

It feels like coming come. 

The ache in your soul stops the second his lips move against yours, deliciously slow and firm while he holds you close. His hands shift, they move the satin robe as they descend and find their place on your back, on your hip. Your chest collides with his with a soft nudge forwards and you sigh against his mouth, welcoming the way his hands tighten on you, feeling finally at ease in his embrace. 

You thought, when preparing his gift, writing the apology letter and then earlier at his dorm, that your self control was something to be admired. Yeah, you love him deeply and all, but you had the restraint to give him the opportunity to decide what he wanted to do with all the things you told him. 

Now you think that there’s nothing in the world that could stop you from kissing his lips raw, from pulling his hair a bit when your fingers tangle in it, from drinking the sound you get in return. 

Fuck your self control. You want Yunho like you never wanted anyone or anything before. 

That’s why you’re grateful when he pumps the break, lips leaving yours and breath on your lips. When you open your eyes, he’s already staring at you. With the way he’s holding you, you barely have to get on your tippy toes to nuzzle his nose against yours with care and the action reminds you of that day at the office, before you fucked up, but the feeling is way different. 

This time, your gut tells you that whatever is about to happen with the two of you is something that’s going to linger, that he’s going to stay one way or another and your heart thumps loudly at the thought of having Yunho in your life forever. 

Four months ago, the thought would’ve given you a headache. 

Now, it heats up your cheeks as his hands return to your face. 

“I’m sorry, I had to kiss you. I also should’ve gone after you that night, in my dorm, I— I’m also sorry, Y/N,” he lets go of you softly, putting a step in between the two of you so he can take your hands in his. “I’m sorry I cornered you in the office and I’m sorry I expected you to just… Drop all of your beliefs and convictions for me. That’s the most delusional thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s okay—”

“But I love you,” he breathes out and you feel like the air it’s been knocked out of your lungs. “I’m a big pretender, you know? I… I try to be as positive as someone can be, I try to be aloof and I ignore a bunch of things in order to let myself be distracted from what my family expects of me, so I couldn’t understand when you didn’t want to do the same. I do now.

“And I don’t let myself enjoy a bunch of things either, Y/N, but I do allow myself little moments of happiness. When I’m with my friends or when I dance, I tend to have those little moments and then I allowed myself to see you in a new light and I… If I thought those two things brought me some sort of respite from my sorrows, I had no idea you of all people could feel like… Like…”

“Home?” You offer, your voice a sweet whisper full of understanding. 

“Like home.”

He swallows tightly, averting his eyes to the floor for a second. 

“I’m sorry for not returning that call,” he says, his brows creasing a little bit, “I took advice from drunk people in love, so I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you come to me.” 

“I was doing the same,” you whisper back, shrugging his worries away. “Letting you come to me, that is. I couldn’t even— I mean, I should’ve given you all of this in person instead of dropping it off like a scaredy cat.” 

“You did hear the conversation though?” 

“Yeah. Mingi called me a dumbass and I’m not going to forgive him.” 

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “He was right, a little bit.” 

“He called you dumber,” you return, frowning at his jab even though you know he didn’t intend any ill with it. “So yeah, you could say he was right.” 

There’s a few seconds where he just stares: at your hands, twined together with ease and familiarity. At your face, a loving smile lifts the corners of his mouth up before he steps closer again and lets his thumbs trace the curve of your mouth, your cheekbone, your nose. 

“I missed you so much, my love.” 

Oh.

Fuck. 

You warm to the pet name immediately, its significance running through you like a shudder and making you gasp softly, almost imperceptibly. You guess it shows on your expression, the smile on Yunho’s lips widening as his knuckle presses on your cheek gently. 

“You liked that I called you that?”

“Shut up.”

“My love,” he repeats, pecking your lips, “I love you. I’ve… I actually don’t know if I’ve loved you this way all this time, but I’m sure I loved you to some degree. I cared— I care about you.” 

You tear up again. 

That voice that tells you that you don’t deserve him comes back, a distant murmur of it this time, but it’s still there. 

For a good reason, too. 

“Forgive me for being so horrible to you all these years,” he makes a face, like he can’t believe you’re apologizing for that right now. “I wish I could say I did it because I was a vain, stupid child but it was all very much thought through.” 

“I know.”

“And I was horrible. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now, I—”

His lips press softly against yours again. “Stop it. I was horrible to you too, we were both stupid and childish and we had our reasons.”

“Did we, though?” Your nose scrunches while you truly think about all the times you could’ve been nicer to each other and chose to be mean instead. 

His eyes water a little. You frown, fingers tightening around his wrists, you turn to kiss his palm. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I just love you a lot,” he sniffs and you catch with your knuckle the tears that roll down his cheeks. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath and untensing his shoulders at the same time. “And it feels so good to be able to say it.” 

“When did you figure it out?” Curiosity takes over you for a second, you allow yourself to wonder about it without any guilt now. 

He hums, thinking about it with a pout on his lips “Like I said, I think I’ve always loved you to some degree. I just… Didn’t know it. I’ve never loved anyone like this before but I think that when I saw you with Jaemi and my heart felt like it was about to come out of my mouth, I kind of knew.” 

“So when I kissed you…”

“I knew,” he nods, “and I should’ve been more insistent when I was trying to talk to you. Go to your house, do something, but I’m… A little inexperienced in this type of stuff.” 

“Because you have no bitc—”

You’re already giggling before he interrupts. “And you love me like I am, so now what?” 

The smile on your lips is so wide you have to look to the side, focus on the shadow of the chair in the tiny living room space for a second to compose yourself. 

It doesn’t really work, because he’s smiling as hard when you turn back to him. 

And then, for the first time since he got here, he seems to notice the length of your hair. He brushes it back with his fingers, the strands barely damp now, and gasps when he reaches the tips at your shoulders. “You cut it!”

With a nod, you laugh at his sudden surprise. “I did, I’m about to get disowned.” 

“Oh, your mom is going to pass out at the very least.” He agrees right away and you laugh again before he joins, his teeth nipping at his lower lip for a second. “She’ll forgive you, though.”

“You think so?”

“You look too beautiful to stay mad at you for long.” 

Oh, your poor heart. You shake your head, diverting the attention from you by brushing the strands of his hair that rest on his forehead back. 

“Blond?” 

“Kind of, yeah. It’s this… Honey something that my hairdresser suggested.” 

Humming, you let your fingernails scratch his scalp gently as they go down, hands resting on his shoulder when you’re done. “They did a great job,” you say before you click your tongue, cocking your head to the side. “Are you sure they weren’t just calling you honey and you misunderstood?” 

His brow lifts, the corner of his lips does as well and he’s ducking his head so he can speak in that cocky tone of his you’re so used to. Only this time, there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“And If they did?” 

You know what he’s asking, you know why he’s asking. You find yourself curious about this type of teasing on his behalf, so you allow it to happen.

In your own terms.

“Did it happen?” You return, leaning even closer, hands grasping the lapel of his suit jacket and tugging on it, pretending to smooth it out with your palms afterwards. 

“Princess…” 

When you look at him, there’s this fiery energy that crosses his expression and it makes your imagination run wild with possibilities. 

Now that you both got through the emotional part of your reunion with tears, with overdue confessions and very necessary apologies, what’s left to resolve is this pent up tension that’s always been something more. With the way Yunho behaves sometimes, so proud and tough, you have a vague idea of what it could be like. 

And it makes you giddy with anticipation. 

You would like to turn your assumptions into facts. So you play dumb, fakely perking up when he calls you, blinking with pretend innocence a few times to sell the act. “Hm?” 

Catching the way his jaw ticks at your behavior, you realize that the rush that went through your body every time you got under his skin was not out of the pleasure of winning. 

It was because you liked it. 

Very much so, that the way his eyes scan over your body like he's deciding what to do with you and your attitude make you let out a tiny puff of air that he drinks right up when he crowds you again, hands on your hips and lips on yours once more. 

His mouth doesn't move with any trace of carefulness anymore. Before, you were able to tell he needed to kiss you, longingly, with all the things he couldn't say before on his lips against yours. Now, his tongue makes its way past your teeth and swipes against yours in a way that makes you stumble backwards, almost leaving the tight squeeze of his hands behind. 

Yunho catches you, walks with you until you feel the arm of the tiny couch supporting your weight as well. 

He leans in a little bit to help you up on it, his body immediately in between your legs, his palms making their way downwards. One is on your lower back, thumb absentmindedly caressing the area, and the other one is pressing right next to your leg on the couch so he can bite your lower lip and give both your lungs a bit of a break before diving into your mouth again. You wrap your arms around his neck and keep him close. 

Closer, closer, closer. You need his body pressing against yours as you try to keep up with the intensity of his kisses. You've never been kissed like this before, never with so much love and passion and want and need. 

You've been kissed while drunk and touched while high in the past, you've been fucked by people you don't remember the names of and you had dropped the sleeping around once you graduated college. 

There's so much of your youth you wish you've done sober. Because now, when his tongue catches a soft moan and his hand moves from your lower back to your leg, under your robe, you don't know why you freak out. 

No, you know exactly why. 

Breaking the kiss, you take two seconds to look at the plush of Yunho’s lips after being deliciously smothered with yours. You're both breathing hard, chests rising and falling in tandem and gasps for air filling the room. 

His hand moves higher, measuring your reaction and you know he's about to ask if it's okay to touch you when you grab his wrist and stop his movements. 

“We don't have to—” 

“Is not that,” you say right away but you're both speaking over each other. 

“I mean, there's a lot we need to talk about. I want you to tell me about your trip and—” 

“Sure, we can do that later,” you nod. “Right now, I'm— I mean, let me turn off the light and you can touch me all you want.” 

He frowns. 

“What?” 

Heart picking up for a different reason now, you clear your throat and try to cough the anxiety away. You can talk to him about these things, it's okay. It doesn't really matter how embarrassed you feel once the words come out of your mouth. 

“Um, I went up a few pounds while on the trip and— And that's a good thing!” You say when he looks at you like he's about to tell you that it's okay. “I ate whatever I wanted, it was great, really. I just…” 

“You did?” He asks in a soft, excited whisper.

“I don't know if you'll, um, i-if you're going to like it.” You finish, blinking the shame away. 

Yunho’s expression softens and you take it as an agreement. You've only been touched in the dark, anyways, so you push into his chest a little bit and off his embrace (even if you don't really want to) and start moving towards the only light casting shadows on the room. 

Only to be tugged right back by a firm hand on your arm.

With his chest against you and his lips grazing your ear, you can barely help the way you shudder. There's something hard poking your ass and the apparent size of it has you gulping, salivating even. 

But you have to turn off the light. 

“Come here,” he murmurs and softly moves the both of you to stand in front of the mirror that's next to the entrance. 

Even if you tried not to, it's something you've been avoiding the whole time you've stayed here. The mirror is huge, floor to ceiling and its position it's very elegant, very fitting for the purpose of this suit that's supposed to be reserved for people who need different outfits for different events. 

You haven't really used it other than quickly checking your clothes earlier today, before leaving to go to the dorm and, even then, it was only a quick ten seconds.

It stings a little that, although you've made progress, your body and the way you perceive it still have such a grip on you. When you add the man your heart desires to the mix? Well, there's little to nothing you can do to let go of your insecurities.

The heat of Yunho's body leaves you for a second and he's turning another light, the one closest to the entrance, adjusting its intensity so the ambiance is not broken by the bright glow of it. 

You gulp again when he returns, but melt into his chest when he presses his body against yours again. 

How can you feel so comfortable with him but so uncomfortable with yourself? It's weird, it's strangely very you but you can't even tell him that because the intensity of his gaze when you catch it in the mirror shuts you right up. 

You know he's telling you to listen to him, to notice how serious he is about this as his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“I've called you ugly before, right? I've have actively contributed to your insecurities in a way that I'm not going to forgive myself for, ever,” he starts and the direct approach to it makes you teary eyed all over again. He notices, lips finding your shoulder to comfort you. “The thing is, Y/N, that I never actually meant it. I think I was pissed off because you were— and are so fucking beautiful.” 

You close your eyes and let out a pleading sigh “Yunho…” 

“No,” he says and you feel how he shakes his head, his chin still on your shoulder. “Someone needs to tell you this. You live in your head way too much.” 

He understands. 

You love him so much. 

“Open your eyes, princess.” 

You do. 

“Look at yourself.” 

You don't. You look at him instead. 

He's staring at you through the mirror and he straightens his back to rest his cheek against your temple, the height difference at his advantage because, this way you have to look up at him and it will give away the pure rejection you have for your reflection. 

“I don't think I've ever found someone as beautiful as I found you. When I realized that, that was what pissed me off… Well, I think I somehow buried the thought away but you are so breathtakingly pretty, Y/N.” He takes in a breath and you lose yours, his hand resting on your hip going up and tracing the curve of your waist. “But it doesn't really matter what I think, it matters what you think, hm?” 

Turning his head, his nose presses against your skin now and he leans in, nuzzling softly, with care, until his lips peck your jaw. 

“I can assure you that you can go up a hundred pounds, go down, up again and I wouldn't care. It doesn't matter, I have found you beautiful in every version that you have presented yourself in and I will find you beautiful if you change your whole appearance everyday. I love you,” he reminds you, “and I love everything that you bring along with you. Insecurities, panic attacks and clever insults to my clothing included.” 

The chuckle that you let out makes him smile against your cheek and he gives you a little peck before putting some space between your face and his. He looks you up and down in the mirror again and you can see genuine want in the way his pupils dilate. You see it happening in real time but then you also see his self-restraint. 

You're at a loss for words, but manage to mumble out “Thank you, Yunho.” And then you turn your head, catching his lips in a soft closed mouth kiss that he returns right away. 

“Whenever you're ready to let me prove how beautiful I find you, I'll be here.” He says when you let his mouth move away from yours, your lips softly pecking his jaw instead and getting a sigh in return. “I can wait.” 

Then, the worst thing happens: His hands leave your body and he starts to step away. 

It's a little embarrassing how quickly your entire being protests and you realize that there's a clinginess to you that you're not so sure where it came from. You reach for him, barely turning, and tug him right where he was. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you enjoy the genuine surprise on his expression and the way it turns into desire when you put his hands on you again: on your stomach, on your hip. 

When you turn your head to look at him directly, his eyes stay fixated on the reflection. His hand on your stomach turns, knuckles softly caressing you. You want to ask him what he likes about that but don't, instead, you tell him what goes on inside your head. 

“Yunho, I do want you. I want you… But I also want to make sure that you like me.” 

He looks at you then, mouth ready to reassure you again but you shake your head to shut him up. 

“I heard you,” you confirm, smiling a bit and then closing your eyes at the visage that accompanies the concept of your body in your mind. You know it's far from what it actually looks like but that also means that you don't know exactly what it looks like and that's terrifying. “I know you love me but would you like me?” 

“I do,” you hear the frown in his voice and take a deep breath before opening your eyes again. “Princess, do you trust me?” 

You nod without a second thought and he leans in, nose almost touching yours. 

“Would you let me show you how much I like you?”

It takes a second or two, but you nod again.

“And would you let me know if it's too much?” 

“Yes,” you breath out, too intoxicated by the closeness, by the way his lips softly trace yours without actually kissing them to think about the implication of his words. 

When he pulls away again, you let out a sound that gives away how much you want him. Yunho’s lips curve and when your eyes finally focus on his again, you can see the quick decision he makes as he looks at the mirror again, resolve and purpose in his expression as he takes off the jacket of his three piece, tossing it on the sofa. 

There's something magnetic in the way he rolls his sleeves up, securing them in his forearms and your eyes follow the motions and trace the veins that you're able to see before he turns away from you. 

He takes one of the chairs he's able to easily mov, placing it behind you both. You realize you've walked a few steps closer to the mirror, and so your back is pressed against it when his attention returns to you, when he takes your face with his hands and crushes his lips against yours without explaining what he just did. 

You brace himself on his forearms, nails pressing on his skin because somehow this kiss feels different. Its pace is not hard to keep up with but it feels like you are, the care he puts in his movements as his palms brush your hair back slowly and then go down, down until they're reaching the knot that keeps your robe closed. 

This time, instead of panic, you feel your stomach flutter. Butterflies all over, there's goosebumps on your skin when he tugs the robe open and feels the satin of your pajamas with his fingers. He makes a noise and, at first, you think it's out of protest because you're not already undressed for him.

But then his knuckles trace the hem of the nightgown and he makes the noise again, tongue flicking against yours harder, getting a moan out of you.

Yunho’s lips find your cheek, your jaw, nipping at the skin of your neck and over your pulse when he gets to it and you close your eyes, head falling against the mirror and head moving to the side so he can kiss every inch of skin if he wants. 

“You smell so fucking good.” 

That makes you smile, a droopy curve to your lips before you bite a sound back “I showered.” 

“You always do,” he whispers into your skin, lips finding your ear. “You always have. Do you know how many times I had to control myself around you?” 

“Hm,” you muse, pretending to think about it. “Do you know how many times you had to?” 

“Oh, trust me princess, I know.” 

He pulls back and you open your eyes. You wonder if yours are carrying the same intensity as his when they go down your body, taking your sleepwear in. 

It's a simple blue v-neck slip dress with some floral lace at the trim lines. It splits on the sides and falls mid-thigh. Something very basic in your opinion, but you don't miss the way his eyes are glued to the skin of your thigh. You're not wearing a bra and your nipples are painfully hard. 

“I didn't actually expect you to come to me tonight,” you lie a little, lips turning up into a shy smile. “So I didn't—” 

“Is this what you wear to sleep?” He interrupts and you watch him gulp. 

“Mhm.” 

“Every night?” 

“Something like this,” you tug at the fabric, softly, “yes.” 

“Fuck.” 

You giggle in return at how affected he seems, but the amusement dies when his eyes return to yours. Holding your hand, he takes a step back and then another and another until he's falling with a thump on the chair he brought close. 

He takes you in one more time before letting go of your hand and manspreading on the chair “Come here, princess.” 

The tone of his voice makes your entire being shake and you take in a breath before following his command. Which is crazy because you never, ever would've followed an order from him. 

But now you can't help yourself. 

Standing in between his legs, you can see when he holds the arms of it after attempting to touch you as soon as you get close enough for him to be able to reach you and, when you're about to straddle his lap, he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in response. 

You understand what he wants immediately and you turn around, watching your reflection in the mirror as you sit down on his legs that he managed to close again in the three seconds it took you to do so. 

You're breathing hard by the time he accommodates you both on the chair, his very clear erection pressing against your ass and lower back and making you dizzy at what you're looking at. 

The image on the mirror is clear, it allows you to see both your reaction and his reaction when you fidget without thinking about it on his lap and the friction it causes brings you a whisper of pleasure. 

“You're a dream, Y/N,” he says and you can tell it came out of his mouth without really thinking about it. Finally, he moves his hands and his nails press on the skin of your shoulders, goosebumps evident and tremor barely concealable when he drags them down the length of your arm and over your hands that rest on top of your knees. 

He covers them with his and you stop following his movements in the mirror to look at his face “Can I?” 

You swallow and then nod and he giggles, this hard facade he has on slipping as he presses a reassuring kiss to your shoulder “Can you say it, my love?” 

“Yes,” you say quickly, your voice betraying you “Please.” 

He closes his eyes, a curse under his breath. “Don't beg me, princess, I got you.” 

You can't help but be curious and, although this is something you can find out as the night goes on, you end up wondering out loud either way: “Why? You don't like it?” 

He shakes his head, that hardness in his expression returns when he opens his eyes to look at you and the curious glint of your expression through the mirror. 

“Do you enjoy it when I beg you, Yunho?” 

And then you slightly move on his lap, trying to pass it like an absentminded movement. 

He sees right through it and the realization shows on his face. 

“Ah,” he laughs, back falling against the chair and head lolling back, “are you going to be a brat, princess?” 

Your mouth quirks at the quick and accurate read he gives your attitude. 

“Of course you are.” 

Again, the bravery your amusement gives you is short lived. He uses his hands over yours to open your legs and his, fast, earning a surprised squeak out of you. Your first instinct is attempting to close them but he huffs and perches your legs on his. You loop your feet around them to avoid falling forward at the lack of things to hold on to. 

This way, your panties are on full display as well. They're simple cotton white panties and there's a wet patch in the middle of them that grows a little at the display, at the image you see in the mirror. 

Yunho curses under his breath again. 

“You're my dream,” he says, a little bit distracted again and then he remembers himself. “I don't like people begging me, I don't give them the time to.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you're about to protest because you don't want to hear about his encounters with anyone else, but he won't let you. 

“One time, I almost had a fight with a friend over teasing. You know her, Mingi's girlfriend,” he says and you don't know if he's smiling at the memory or at the way you squirm under his touch when his fingernails start dragging over the skin of your inner thighs slowly. “I told her the truth: I'm too impatient to tease. She said it's necessary, I said I never needed to tease anyone to get with them and it went on for almost an hour.” 

He reaches the plush that has formed on your inner thighs and you can physically feel your centre growing wetter. 

“I never got it,” he insists and, when he pretends that he's going to touch you where you need it the most only for his touch to go back down the expanse of your thighs, you let out dissatisfied huff. “Now I think I do.” 

“Yunho…”

“You wanted to beg?” He asks, mouth against your ear and hot breath on your cheek. “I can make you beg.” 

You give in almost immediately. 

“Please,” tongue wetting your lips, you attempt to move in order to get some sort of relief but he's quicker than you. Strong hands hold your hips steady and you puff out some air again. “Please touch me.” 

It's clear the whine on your voice affects him because he pants against your cheek, nudges your face with his nose and then dives with his lips to kiss your neck again. 

“Be still, princess.” He commands and you stop trying to wiggle against him, only to rest your back against his chest when he brings his hands down in a caress and holds you fully open for him again. “I got you, but do as I say.” 

He takes your nod as an answer this time and his lips travel down your neck, to the skin of your back and then your shoulder. You watch in the mirror as his teeth catch the strap of your nightgown and, when he speaks again, it's a little muffled because of it.

“Can I take this off you?” 

You take a breath before replying “Yes.” 

And then he slips the strap off your shoulder with his teeth and you swear you're ruined for everyone else entirely. 

There's no way anyone is going to make you tremble like he did just now.

He goes ahead and does the same to the other strap, hand quick in catching the gown from falling completely. 

“Should I?” 

“Yunho… Stop teasing me.” 

He chuckles and takes his time to redo what he just undone: he pulls the strap on your left shoulder up again, switches the hand that's holding your second to last piece of clothing up, and does the same to the other strap. 

“But you look so pretty in it.” 

Your skin heats up harder than ever before. 

“You look so pretty like this, all breathless and ready for me to touch you… Do you know how happy it makes me that I can touch you, princess? That you’re in my lap and not in my head?” 

You swallow back a whine “Y-you thought about me like this?” 

“I dreamed about you like this,” he kisses the nape of your neck and then focuses his attention on the shoulder he neglected before, “for months.” 

You hum in acknowledgement at his words, but your mind is elsewhere because his hands return to their ministrations on your inner thighs and it's hard to concentrate on anything else but the pad of his thumbs ghosting over your panties as they move. 

He finally concedes and lets his hands wander upwards until they get ahold of the hem of the nightgown and, in one swift movement, you're left in nothing but your underwear in front of him. 

Well, in front of the mirror. He's watching the reflection of your body carefully and you can barely spare a look at it, breath caught in your throat at his reaction. 

When he sees your naked torso, he fully lets out a moan. 

You feel slick rush out of you at the sound but don't turn to yourself to verify what exactly about you made him react that way, made him get even harder against your ass. 

“God, look at you.” 

Breathing hard, you turn your head slightly so that your nose touches his and you think he's about to drop it, give in and kiss you when you feel his thumb and index pressing against your cheek, turning your head to the reflection again. 

“Is this okay?” 

You know he's referring to the hold on your face and you mumble out a yes, still looking at him through the mirror. 

“I said, look at yourself.” 

You do. 

Legs open and still perched on top of his, white panties turning a little see through due to your arousement and nipples pebbled in full display, you allow yourself to enjoy the two seconds of clarity before your body starts to shape shift in your head, before your thoughts turn you undesirable and before you fall into your dysmorphia. 

Yunho is right there to catch you, though. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you're even allowing me to see you like this, Y/N?” 

The hold on your face relaxes and you follow the movement of his hand, down until it settles on your throat, relaxed, not even putting any pressure. 

“Still okay?” 

You nod. 

He puts in slight pressure now and, when you moan, he chuckles but doesn't say anything to acknowledge what makes him laugh. Instead, his hand keeps descending until his fingers rests in between your breasts and then he softly cups one of them, thumb passing over your nipple and making you jump at the sudden contact before letting go. 

“So fucking pretty. You see this?” His fingers take hold of the skin of your tummy that connects with the curve of your waist and he pinches slightly, making you squirm and tickling you a bit. “Everything you are, everything you have makes my heart beat,” he kisses your shoulder again, “and my dick hard,” and again, “and makes me want to prove to you that there's no one in this world that can come close to you, not in my eyes, my love.” 

Oh, my God. 

He says it in a way that makes you want to believe him. And, deep down, you know you do. 

Even though it's complicated, even though it takes effort to make years and years of self-loathing disappear, you know you can try. 

Because you desperately yearn to see yourself from Yunho's point of view. 

This time, when you turn to kiss him, he doesn't put up any restraint. His dominant mask slips off of him for just a second when you grab his face, pliant mouth moving at the rhythm and pace yours is marking, a whine getting muffled with your tongue. 

He gives your legs rest, closing his legs (and, in consequence, yours as well) and, when you tug at his hair so you can mark his neck down at the weird position you're in, he groans and you want to smile but he's searching your lips before you can even leave a bruise on his skin. 

“I love you, I love the way you think about me, I love what you make me want to think about me,” you assure him when you pull back to look at him. His cheeks are red and his lips are swollen and you love the way they're parted as he recovers his breath. 

“Lesson learned?” 

“Mhm,” you kiss his lips again and take the hand resting your waist, bringing it down to your clothed sex so he can feel how wet you are “now please, would you touch me?” 

“Fuck, you really do love to beg, hm?” He says and it's breathy, like he can't actually believe, and he doesn't give you time to respond because he's already kissing you again. “Let's go to bed.” 

“W-wait.” 

“Yeah?” 

The way you glance at the mirror is a dead giveaway of what you truly want. It makes him take in a sharp breath and grab your face in between his hands, fascination written all over his expression. 

“Do you want to watch when I touch you?”

You breathe out a moan in response.

“You want to watch yourself while I make you come?” 

A little shy but with resolve, you nod. 

He curses. 

Next thing you know, your legs are perched over his again and they’re wide open. Your arms fly back to hold onto him, onto anything that helps you not fall on your face but then his perfect, veiny hand presses on your torso and you fall back comfortably into his embrace again. 

He wastes no time, lips marking a path from your shoulder to your neck and fingers ghosting your clit over your panties and you whimper, impatience making you move against his crotch and making him grunt at the friction. 

“I k-know you just s-said you just discovered the joy of t-teasing but can you please do somet— Fuck!” 

His thumb presses on your bundle of nerves over the cotton and you can’t help but shake. 

It has been a while since you’ve even touched yourself truly, with want and need behind. It’s been a while since someone else touched you there, period, so the sensation feels new and you kind of feel like an overly inexperienced woman with the way you can’t help the immediate build up when he starts moving his thumb.  

It’s electric and you notice that your eyes closed the second he touched you, so you remember yourself. You remember what you asked for, what you actually want to see. 

When you open them again and look at Yunho, you find him already looking at you. His parted lips turn into a proud smile when he catches your eye and he nods, kisses trailing up to your ear, teeth nipping at the skin. 

“Good girl.” 

Fuck. 

He stops his movements to let his index, middle and ring finger cup your sex entirely, press into the fabric and let it soak with your arousal. You see in the mirror and you watch, with fascination, how he manages to twist the cotton to the side and expose your pussy for you both to see with the same hand. 

“You’re so wet, princess, I bet you taste so good…” 

Your brain short circuits and malfunctions when he finally touches you without anything in between his skin and yours. His index reaches out and collects the evidence of how much 

you want him, of how much you want him and you moan when the fabric snaps against your pussy when he lets go of it. 

“Do you?”

He toys with the stickiness on with his fingers, rubs it in between them and then brings his hand up so you’re able to see it without the mirror’s help. 

“Look at me,” you do, obedient, “and open up.” 

You open your mouth and allow his fingers to get in and rest against your tongue. You suck out of instinct, eyes never leaving his, and he gulps as he watches you taste yourself until your arousal transfers from his fingers to your tongue. 

“Let me taste it now.” 

Licking into his mouth, the fingers that were previously on yours settle on your throat, not allowing you to fully lean in and kiss him like you want but, instead, letting him have control of it. 

You swear you see stars when he sucks his tongue into his mouth and he hums, pleased with the taste. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Letting you go, you’re breathing hard when he pushes you a bit to put some distance between the both of you. 

“Get up and take these off.” He snaps the elastic of your panties and the sting against your skin makes you whine. 

You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but wait for him to lead your actions and the consensual loss of control feels so freeing that it makes you dizzy. So you oblige, getting off his lap and allowing him to turn you around so that your ass faces the mirror. When you look at him, he’s looking at the reflection and not you, so you decide, with a boost of confidence because of the hunger in his eyes, to give him a little show. 

You bend over, forehead almost touching his chest and proceed to take off your underwear that way. You open your legs a little, giving him a clear view of it when the fabric falls from your legs and pools at your ankles and, when you twist your head to the side to look at his reaction, his tongue is out and licking his bottom lip like he’s starving for it. 

For the first time ever, you feel both sexy and desired at the same time. 

He reaches for your ass in a way you’re not so sure it’s calculated and you fall fully into his chest with a soft moan when he opens you up for him even more. 

“So hot,” he says, low, under his breath, like he’s not even thinking before he speaks and he lets his fingernails drag on your skin (something you’re learning he enjoys doing and that you also like, a lot) until his hands fall to his knees again. “Fuck.” 

He still hasn’t even touched you properly and you already feel drunk on his touch. You feel that way, at least, when you prop your hands against his chest and push yourself up. He turns you around quickly, sits you on his lap with your legs open again and sighs. 

“I’m not going to make you beg for it anymore when all I want to do is watch you come, princess.” 

Arm around your middle, he presses you flush against his chest and takes your right hand in his. It allows you to let go of the grasp you have on him a little and, when he guides your own fingers to your pussy, you get why. 

“Show me how you like it.”

You feel lewd, exposed and dirty in a way you never thought you would enjoy. But here you are, craving 

“Yunho…”

“Show me,” he insists, “so I can learn.” 

Isn’t it a little bit funny that he sounds like he’s the one begging you when he speaks? 

You show him. Starting with collecting a bit of your slick, you drag a finger upwards from your entrance to your clit and then, only when you can see it fully glistening in the mirror, is when you press down and caress it in circular motions that send electricity through you right away. 

As you do with everything, this is something that, although you don’t really have time to even think about doing most of the days, you have perfected. There’s a science to it, a method that you’ve discovered via need and lust and that has never been so thoroughly explored than right now. 

It’s like you have kept your needs like a nasty little secret inside of your heart, just like you did with your love for Yunho, and you’re letting it all out. 

You pick up the pace, alternating from circles to side to side motions and the pleasure quickly becomes overwhelming. Or have you been touching yourself for him for minutes now? Time disappears in every sound you unconsciously let out, it blends with the glint of passion in Yunho’s eyes and it dissolves in an orgasm that quickly takes over you and shakes you forward. 

“That’s it,” he mutters with his lips against your temple and his hands holding you steady. “Now’s my turn.” 

He replaces his hands with yours, bats your fingers away when you try to prolong your pleasure and takes over at a relentless pace, overstimulating you.

It goes on like that for a minute or so where you shake and you readjust in his lap and you shake again when he bucks your hips and you feel him firm against your ass. You desperately want to help him feel this way, too, but there’s only so much you can do when he teases your entrance with his index and finds you relaxed enough to put it in slowly. 

Slowly until it glides in and out smoothly and you hold onto your forearm, and whimper and his name spilling from your lips in bliss when his ring finger joins. You hope you don’t look too delirious, you wish you’re not making a fool of yourself for feeling the heat pool on your lower belly so quickly again. 

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m—” 

“Don’t look at me or what I’m doing, look at yourself.”

Huh?

“W-what?”

“Watch yourself come,” he reiterates, breathless and, when you disobey and look at him through the reflection, he’s already focused on your face, mouth hanging open and brows furrowed with determination. “I want you to see how beautiful you look coming all over my fingers, Y/N.” 

He curves them upwards and the sensation somehow intensifies “Shit.” 

“Come, Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you’re able to prove his words to be true. When you come undone, you’re looking at yourself and in the mirror is someone you don’t exactly recognize. Someone you don’t perceive as yourself because, yes, the person staring back at you is beautiful. And that person looks sexy and sensual and is glowing with pleasure written all over their face but they’re not someone you have categorized in your brain as you. 

And then you understand. This raw, pure, unfiltered state of you is something you hadn’t reached before. Naturally, you had never seen yourself come. And you hadn’t been handled with so much care through an orgasm before, so you lived it fully and then, only when you stop shaking and your legs fall from his and your feet are on the floor, holding your weight steady, is when you allow yourself to look away from your reflection and turn to the man responsible for the best orgasm of your life. 

His lips are quivering, his eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls against your shoulder as he holds you to him. 

“You… Jeong Yunho…” 

He smiles, probably at the way your voice trembles and gives away just how fucked out you already are, but he doesn’t open his eyes  “Yes?” 

“My turn.” 

When he opens his eyes, you’re already standing up in front of him, his hands shifting on your body, the fingers that just made you see stars leaving a wet trail on your skin before they settle on your stomach. 

And, although he seemed tough and dominant just a minute ago, he puts no resistance when you grab his arm and make him stand up as well. You get on your tippy toes to nuzzle his nose with yours and he holds onto you again as you stumble backwards, towards the bedroom. 

“You’re too dressed, Jeong.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy me in a dress shirt,” he says, a smug smile in his lips when your back hits a wall and he presses his body to yours, “prepping you to take my coc— F-fuck, princess.”

Your hand teasing his erection over the fabric of his expensive pants is enough to shut him up. Good, you already let him have his fun (and yours, by consequence) and, even if you enjoyed the loss of control, there’s something equal parts rewarding and hot about winning it back with the simple press of your thumb where you believe his leaking tip is. 

“You’re too overconfident sometimes, Jeong,” you whisper against his lips and it may be your two amazing orgasms or the way you love to have something over him, a little bit of power at least, that make you overly confident right now as well. He puckers out to kiss you but you don’t budge. “Want to see if you prepped me right?” 

It’s a question for consent. You have to make sure he wants you this way, too. That this is fun for him, too. And when he pauses your heart feels like it stops for a second, just like time. 

But right after there’s this quiet agreement you both come to and his mouth devours yours as you move in tandem, in coordinated effort to undress him: You loosen his belt and work on the button of his pants while he unbuttons his shirt and both your feet move with synchronized steps until he’s falling on the bed and you’re getting on your knees in front of him. 

He, however, stops you with a hand caressing your face softly. 

“Later,” he mutters with a soft smile that’s laced with something passionate and lewd you feel you’re about to discover. He leans in, teeth catching your bottom lip and pulling until you’re whining and you taste a little blood on your mouth. “I need to fuck you right now.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You do however make sure to peel his underwear off him while you’re on your knees, the size of him making you wet and ready all over again.

When you stand up, he grabs your tired legs to pull you closer. It feels like a pause in the middle of passionate urgency, but when he takes his time to kiss under your belly button and the expanse of your hips, you feel like it only adds fuel to the fire. 

The fact that he’s even taking the time to explore you makes you want to combust.

“Oh.” He bites you right over your hip bone and you take his hair into your fingers, pulling him back. “Y-you said you needed to fuck me?” 

“I do,” he laughs against your skin and then leans back, taking him with you and you let him, falling on your side before he pushes you against the mattress, body covering yours and palms touching you all over. “I just enjoy taking my time with you.” 

“I can see that, Jeong.” 

He’s distracted again within the second, looking down your body and taking you in like it’s the first time he’s seeing you even though he had a clear view of you and your pussy in the mirror five minutes ago.

And there’s this urge that takes over you, you can’t even fight the words that come out your mouth next.

“Make love to me.” 

He pauses again and then your words register in his brain, you can see the exact moment they hit him and you think you see him tear up a little before he blinks the deep emotion away to focus on the moment. You have to do the same. 

“I will. Every day of my life, if you ask me to, if I’m so lucky to.”

The rest of the night, from the moment he says those words, kisses you and moves you so you’re in the middle of the bed, it all passes in slow motion. 

And it all passes really fast, too. 

Yunho makes love to you. He enters you while looking into your eyes and whispering how much he loves you against your lips and you say it back. He holds your hand as his hips move and his length drags deliciously inside of you. He marks your chest with his lips and your heart with his love and he closes his hands over yours when his pace picks up and he allows to lose himself in the moment too. 

You make love to him as you push him onto his back, his pretty face all flushed, the pink coloring his neck and his chest where you hand rest as you ride him and watch his control slip from him, as you memorize his moans and grunts and as your walls squeeze him in before coming again on his cock and it only takes to firm, hard strides for him to spill himself inside of you as well, the prove of your love making spilling out of you a little when he holds you to his chest and he pulls out of you, both of you sated, both of you in love. 

It feels like an hour has passed when someone speaks again, the silence in the room comfortable and accompanied by the beats of both your hearts. In reality, it’s only been around ten minutes where you’ve closed your eyes and breathed the remnants of Yunho’s cologne, cheek pressed against his chest and his fingers drawing random figures on your naked back. 

You decide to break the silence when you remember something. 

“I think they forgot my room service.” 

There’s a pause and then Yunho is laughing loudly and it makes you smile. His chest vibrates and you can see, on your peripheral, how he covers his eyes with his forearm. 

“I’m being serious, I ordered like three hours ago.” 

“Maybe they knocked and we didn’t hear them,” he mumbles tiredly and you finally look up, chin pressed where your cheek was a second ago. “We were pretty… Busy.” 

“That’s worse, Jeong!” 

“Why?” He asks, genuinely clueless and then it clicks for him. He brings down his arm and opens his eyes wide with shame. “Oh, my God.” 

“Mhm.” 

“How are you going to look the receptionist in the eye?” 

“She knows me, too. She asked me to take a picture with her  when I check out.”

Yunho sighs and says nothing. He looks at you, hand on your back moving until it reaches your face and he lets his knuckles trace your nose in a way that makes you scrunch it. 

“I forgot you were famous.” 

“We both are,” you w-hisper back, lips forming a thin line as you think. “I mean, if someone leaks that we’re both here, it won’t look weird because we’re supposed to be together.” 

“Supposed to?” He frowns. 

“Well, yes, to the public at least.” 

Yunho pouts. 

He pouts and your stomach twists and turns with nerves and butterflies. You’re joking, kind of. 

“Are you not my girlfriend, Y/N?” 

Oh, he’s adorable. It’s so easy to tease him when you’re both not at each other’s throat. 

You wonder if you’ll ever have a fight again, your heart weak for him even when you try to keep the joke going. 

“I haven’t been asked to be anyone’s girlfriend…” 

The deadpan expression that follows your quip breaks your resolve entirely and you laugh, hiding your face on his chest as he mumbles something you don’t catch. 

“What?” You look up at him again. 

“I said that you’re annoying and that you are my girlfriend.” 

“No, I think you said that you love me.”

There’s something so reassuring in the way the annoyance disappears from his expression and it’s replaced by something sweet and he looks like he can barely fight the words back when he replies with: “Yeah, I do.” 

You hum, happy with his response “I thought so.” 

Pressing your cheek against his skin again, there’s only two seconds of silence before his hand is on your shoulder and shaking your body. 

“Say it back, Y/N.” 

“So needy,” you tease and he shakes you again, groaning, so you sigh and pull away from his body to sit up a little. “I love you too.” 

He leans into your space, a blissful smile curving his lips before he pecks your mouth in a sweet, short kiss “Good,” he whispers, falling against the pillows and dragging your body with his so that you’re resting against the soft material as well. “When did you come back?” 

“A week ago.” 

“Hm,” his hands return to your body, fingernails dragging softly up and down your arm, “your family doesn’t know.” 

At the mention of them, you close your eyes and squeeze, reality washing over you. 

“I’m sure my mother does.” 

“She doesn’t,” he assures you, “she would’ve mentioned it by now and she only talks about the project you’re going to lead once you’re back.” 

You open your eyes “What project?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says softly, “I thought you were already leading one?” 

“Something like that,” you nod. “I, um… Was networking in a way, gathering new information on new companies to invest in and help their growth. Small business with original concepts that we can boost or help bring to the city and all of that.” 

“Did you have fun on the trip?” 

“Yeah,” you answer truthfully, “I did. I met a lot of people, I visited places I never even knew existed, I also learned a lot about myself and about what I want… And I got away from Satan for a while.” 

He knows you mean your mom, so he snorts out a laugh and shakes his head at the jab. 

“I missed you a lot, though.” 

His amusement dies slowly but happiness remains on his face. You’re sure yours is a reflection of his, as well. 

“I missed you too,” he answers in a murmur and you nuzzle the hand that reaches your cheek before giving it a kiss. “I’m glad you had fun and it sounds like being away helped but… Never do it again.” 

“Oh?” You try to tease but he insists. 

“Never leave without telling me again, please,” his whisper sounds like a plea and your heart beats louder. “I’ll miss you too much.” 

There’s an impulse, a need that soars through your blood. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away again but, when I do, you can go with me.” 

“I will,” he answers right away and at the confirmation that you want him there with you, you see the tension slip away from his features, “my bags are already packed and all.” 

“I bet they are,” eyes rolling back in annoyance, you press a palm on his chest and push him a little. “Needy.” 

“Shut up.” 

There’s a lot of things to talk about. A lot of things you want to tell him, to mention, to bring up and discuss with him. Like what happens after you leave this bubble you’re floating in, if you tell your brother and his right away, if he’s going to tell his friends or wait until you’re a little far along in the friendship to do so. 

You have to ask him if he wants to tell your parents like… Ever. You’re not so sure you even want to. 

But he shuffles and moves until his naked chest is against yours and his hands are around your body, chin resting on the top of your head as he yawns. 

There’s this feeling of calmness that washes over you as you consider that, maybe, this can be the way you fall asleep from now on. No sleeping or sleepless nights, just Yunho’s embrace and his steady breathing above you, the beat of his heart, a lullaby that lulls you until your eyes are closing and tiredness takes over your senses. 

This time, you dream about a future together and nothing more. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and please remember the next part it's much shorter and would be the end of this mini series!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[sappymix1]

happy new year!!! first fic of 2025 down that's crazy 🫡 teeny tiny patches pov dnfies nye fic under the cut :3

“Isn’t it funny,” George mumbled from his spot on Dream’s lap. His one hand was rested heavy on Patches’ back, making the tiny cave that she had wiggled herself into as soon as the fireworks started. “That we’re in, like, the same place every new year?”

He had stopped petting Patches what felt like an eternity ago, sleepy, and it felt deeply unfair. Dream knew that she hated fireworks, and he had scooped her up from where she was cowering under the couch to let her sit with the two of them instead. Somewhere, Naomi and Milo’s tiny claws were still clicking against the floor, and Patches had let herself indulge in a brief feeling of superiority over that. She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t, really. It was more so annoyance that there were two more cats in the home, two more heads to pat and two more mouths to sneak tiny fish flavored treats to. So she liked, a little bit, the reminder that she had been here the longest. That she was Dream’s cat, and that she had become George’s too. 

Even if she did feel a little bit bad, that Milo and Naomi’s father was away for the holidays. Less so, after Milo peed on Dream’s bed in the spot that she liked to sleep on again. 

Patches pressed her tiny wet nose against George’s hand, making a soft meowing noise. She had always sort of suspected, from the first time that he had scooped her up and she recognized the voice that had whispered to her over Dream’s computer speakers, that George could speak cat, and he complied this time with her request, hand sliding down her head and her neck to rub her back. She purred softly, happiness vibrating through her tiny body, deep into her bones. 

“Weren’t you in LA or something last year?” Dream asked, in that soft voice that Patches knew so well. She flicked her tail, soft fur brushing against George’s hand. 

“No, I was back, right?” George’s voice went high at the end, still a little hoarse from the half cold that he had been dragging around behind him the past few days. Patches could imagine the soft face that Dream was making at him, a mix of worry and something lighter, even if she couldn’t see much other than his stomach, his one knee, his hand running through George’s dark curls, from where she was curled up. “I think I flew back, like, during the day. So I was here for New Years Eve. But like, last year I was just getting back too. So we were just being, like, reunited. Isn’t that crazy?”

He said something else, but it was drowned out by somebody launching a loud firework into the sky above their house with a bang. Patches felt the tiny parts of her throat involuntarily seize up into a pained mrow, and she buried her face into George’s chest. She probably also buried her claws into the fabric a little, and hopefully not his skin, but George kindly didn’t react to it if she had. He scratched her behind her ears, and whispered – “oh, poor Patchy. Dream, you should go threaten them until they stop.”

Dream scoffed. “What?”

Patches eyes fell shut, fireworks already forgotten, and a soft purr rumbled in her chest. 

“It’s not even midnight! They’re, like, cheating.” 

Something was probably happening where Patches couldn’t see. She heard Dream move, felt George move, and it was a few seconds before either of them spoke again. “At least Sapnap isn’t here, this year. Oh god that sounded so mean. You know – you know what I meant.”

“I’m telling him you said that you hate him and want him to move out,” George said gleefully, before yawning, a full body motion that moved like a wave under Patches. “We aren’t even, like, taking advantage of it. We should be, like –” Suddenly, George’s hands were over Patches ears, and she was trying futilely to pull away as he drowned out whatever he was saying. She was freed, just in time to hear Dream say George! in a voice that sounded more amused than anything else. 

But his tone switched quickly, finding something soft and tender. Another rustling sound, and she just knew that Dream’s hand was flush against George’s cheek out of her sight. “Still sleepy?” 

“Yes!” George groaned. “I’m never going back to London ever again. Flop city in a flop timezone. And I couldn’t even sleep at the same time as you, because of stupid Christmas.” 

“You can nap, if you want,” Dream suggested. “I’ll wake you up at midnight, I promise.” 

George had quit running his hand over Patches’ fur again. She looked up, annoyed, just in time to see him shake his head. “No, I’ll wait. I’m, like, watching this. Besides, I know you’re tired too. You’ve been yawning for hours. It’s – it’s absurd.” 

“What? I’m not going to fall asleep!” Dream protested. “Fine, stay up then. Be – be tired.”

“Fine!” George’s smile was bursting from every bit of his voice. “I will be. We can both stay up together. In sync, or whatever.” 

Neither of them made it until midnight. Patches wasn’t even sure which came first, Dream’s hand stilling in George’s hair or George’s breath getting deep and slow under where she rested. But by the time that the new year came, Patches was watching the TV by herself. She buried her face back into George’s shirt as fireworks erupted outside. They were both so lucky that she loved them.

[lovekz]

only you

syn -> you believe you and ran aren't great together, and he respects your decision to the best of his abilities.

warnings : breakups, angst-fluff, ran is a mess

-

it's a summer wake up at the haitani's big old house, and everyone is laying on the roof watching the sunrise.

it happens at the end of the school year, when school is finally over and summer is getting ready to begin.

every year since middle school, it switched from izana's home, to shion's, to yours, to kokonoi's, then the haitani's.

it's mainly been izana and the haitani's though, as they have the bigger houses.

but you lay on the roofs with tired smiles, staying up all night to watch the sun set and rise.

you all finally graduated high school, applied to dream colleges and researched dream jobs.

it was a new start, and all of you were excited to pursue your dreams.

everything has changed, opening everyone's eyes to the future that was coming by tomorrow.

ran had cut his hair really short, kakucho grew out his own, shion took out his crazy piercings, and you had even changed your style a bit.

izana had only started tying his hair back and rindou cut his into a mullet for the 'trend' (it grew on him).

it was so different but normal it a way. ran didn't want it to change.

right now, there was a blunt in rotation, now being held at the other side of the roof.

you laid next to your long time boyfriend, ran, under his blanket, looking at the sun.

occasionally, he'd look over at you and kiss your hand just to wake himself up even a little bit.

izana and rindou had began laughing at something ran didn't catch onto, though everyone else did.

he laughed along with them anyways, only because shion's ragged laugh always doing it for him.

"ran, we should break up." you airily say out of the blue, not making eye contact with ran.

ran doesn't respond, just tucks his hands under his back to push himself up a bit.

it's a good while before he says anything, and you believe it's because he was thinking about the idea.

but in reality, it made ran's whole future crash.

everything he believed he had and wanted to do seemed to have little question marks around them, and a blurry face was there.

it used to be yours, you made up his whole world.

but you wanted out.

"why?" ran questions, holding the hurt in the back of his throat and itching his leg away from you.

and the response was horrid to him.

you had merely shrugged at him, pursing your lips and closing your eyes in thought.

ran took a little glance at you, and for some reason you were even more beautiful than before.

was it because you weren't his anymore?

you speak before him though, opening your eyes and looking at him.

he only knows because he feels a certain way when it's you staring at him, from the side or even in front of him.

"we've been with each other forever, ran. wouldn't you want to meet other people?" you bring up, looking at him.

ran doesn't know what to say to that.

he's got a hundred things going through his mind right now, and none of them are 'please stay' exactly.

why do you want to leave exactly? what made you think like that?

how long have you thought about asking him this to have such a straight forward response?

but he doesn't voice his concerns to you because at the end of the day..

you don't owe him an explanation.

so ran nods, and accepts it.

his heart aches at the fact that he'll have to see you for the rest of the time that you're here.

-

ran doesn't see you for another 2-3 years after you leave his house.

he's almost finished college, and doing really good academically.

mentally? not so great.

ran grew his hair back out, eats much less and drinks more water, keeps his room clean when rindou tells him to, and smoked two times the amount he used to.

he doesn't sleep, and when he does, he dreams of you and how happy the two of you were together.

he wakes up crying after that, so he tries to stay up as much as possible.

his hair goes back to how it was before it was cut, because hair supposedly holds memories.

ran doesn't want to forget you, ever.

he tries to reach out by texting and calling, but you never respond and you never answer.

it hurts, but he knows you're probably healing just like he's trying to.

or well, he thought so.

rindou holds a surprise party for him when the two find out he’s graduating early.

he got his undergraduate bachelors in psychology and mental health with flying colors.

so who wouldn’t surprise their older brother with his favorite alcohol and his favorite people?

obviously rindou didn’t get the memo.

-

ran walks into the house holding his fresh bread and keys.

rindou told him go out really quick so he could make the two sandwiches, and ran complied.

he doesn’t walk with his phone anymore, doesn’t think it really makes a difference.

but he walks with a airtag, just in case rindou ‘mothers’ too much for a moment.

it’s funny, he remembers being in rindou’s place and rindou being in his.

only difference? rindou wasn’t as disturbed as ran was now.

he manages to get the door open, with a bit more struggle, but it’s open.

shuffling around the house starts, and ran can only assume rindou was in his room trying to rub one out while he was gone.

ran doesn’t chuckle at the thought like he usually would, just blinks and makes his way to the kitchen in darkness.

the shuffling doesn’t bother him a bit.

he places the bread onto the counter and suddenly the lights are on.

people begin to scream in his face, standing around the counter and the tables.

he recognizes some, recognizes most, and not so much of others.

there’s a banner that reads ‘did it in three, congrats!’ over the doorway.

“thank you.” ran says, forcing a smile on his face as he looks at everyone.

he knows it doesn’t sound genuine, and it doesn’t sound nice, but it’s the best he could muster up.

the attention is all on him, but he feels like he needs to throw up.

and his making a face, so rindou is tugging him off to some empty room.

“are you drunk? or high? …both?” rindou asks, tilting his head to the side.

and for once, ran has been sober all day.

he’s unsure why, but it’s probably why his thoughts have been so fucking loud.

ran shakes his head, leaning against the wall with a frown.

rindou studies the look, and doesn’t know what to make out of it.

he knows his brother has been like this for a while, and he’s spoken to him many times.

he’s even gone as far as to speaking with his personal therapist to see if he should get ran one himself.

but ran has always refused to, and you can’t give someone help if they don’t want it.

so all he could do is watch.

but he doesn’t wanna watch anymore, he’s worried.

“ran what’s going on? is this over-“ “please stop talking.” ran cuts him off immediately.

the words are absent, and rindou doesn’t know if he’s talking to him or someone else.

not like there’s anyone else in the room with him to hear it.

rindou had begun losing his patience, and felt greatly annoyed.

it caused his tone to sound as such, and not be as kind as he always tries to make it sound.

ran wasn’t hearing it, and stood up straight.

“I appreciate this, rin. I’m just a little under the weather.” ran smiles, and it’s a bit uneasy.

but it isn’t believable.

rindou watches as he begins to leave, before speaking up.

“I pray for you, you know that?” rindou speaks up, looking away from the mirror.

ran stops, holding his hand on the doorstep.

rindou turns his entire body to face him, and takes another deep breath.

one he didn’t know he was holding.

“I’m not religious, don’t know if god’s real, but I pray for you. because maybe if someone is out there, they won’t take my only brother from me.” rindou heartily says.

ran sniffles, before fixing his clothes that suddenly feel weird.

he nods again, fixing his hair to tuck behind his ears as well.

“I love you, and I thank you. but please don’t say that.” ran whispers, glancing at his brother with a sad look.

ran walks out of the bathroom and into his room, before closing the door and stripping himself of his clothes.

it’s a common occurrence, something he always does after coming in from class.

guess he won’t have to go back now.

he fits himself under his blanket and stares out his big window.

rindou was in here, he could tell.

one of his pillows were folded and the ends of his comforter was folded on the inside.

ran has this horrible headache though, so he won’t curse him out.

he doesn’t realize he’s also slowly breaking rindou down by acting this way.

but he can’t help it. he’s hurt, he’s lost, and he needs help.

he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

ran forces himself to sleep so he doesn’t have to speak to anyone else.

-

music blasts from the speakers downstairs, but ran doesn't hear or awake to any of it.

the sound doesn't increase, nor does it decrease.

it's at its extremely loud volume, it'll be a miracle if anyone can still hear after leaving the party.

in the man's bedroom, the music sneaks in like a snake, and scurries out as fast as a cat.

someone had entered his room.

they have a seat on the soft bed, resting their warm hands on ran’s skinny pale collarbones.

the bones on his body were almost in view under his pale skin, it was telltale signs of malnourishment.

if no one knew better, or didn't see the rise and fall of the man's chest, they'd think ran was dead.

but he was very much alive.

the smooth touches to his skin woke him from his deep slumber, purple eyes squinting in confusion.

the person stared down at him, a smile so sweet ran could swear he smelt honey.

"good morning ran." you call quietly, shifting your weight in the bed to be a bit more comfortable.

he stares blankly, as though he were shion on the last day of middle school when they handed out finals.

the two of you say nothing, trying to figure out who should speak first and what you should say.

ran doesn't sit up, but he brings one of his long arms up and caresses your cheek.

"you're so beautiful." he whispers, watching you lean into his hand.

you were real, he understands. his forever stood before him flesh and bone, not just a image of a memory.

"i missed hearing you say that." you sniffle, closing your eyes and letting him relish in your perfume.

he pulls you down to lay next to him and holds you in his arms, kissing your forehead soothingly.

you allow him, not caring if his pillows would mess up your hair that took hours to get perfect.

but this was ran you were talking about. the only man you could perfectly imagine marrying.

"damn boy. you fucked up my standards." you joke, burying your face into his cheek to inhale the chamomile and cocoa butter.

ran chuckles for the first time in a while, pulling you even closer if humanely possible.

he wouldn't let you go after this.

-

after the party finished, and everyone went home drunk and tired, ran asked you a serious question.

'if i get better, look better, feel better, will you give me another chance at our relationship?'

you tell him you'll consider it, but he has to try.

and try he did.

he began asking kakucho and rindou for diet plans and workout routines.

he picked up boxing with mucho (got shitted on a couple times, but it was so worth it).

even went shopping for a new wardrobe with izana, who always had the best style out of everyone.

mitsuya was even nice enough to get his best friend's wife to trim the dead ends off his hair for free.

the two of you talk every now and then, catching up about work and school and what not.

you don't see him, but you were nice enough to lend him your address in case he ever wanted to drop by.

he looked so much better than he did a few months ago, more meat on his bones and his muscles coming back tenfold.

now he was out with mitsuya in a flower shop, hands in his pockets as he stared in thought.

"you didn't tell me what we were doing here." mitsuya brings up, rubbing his eyes a bit.

ran glances at him for a split second, before looking back at the flowers in front of him.

mitsuya waits for a second, before kissing his teeth and fixing his posture.

"you can't wake me out of my sleep, dress me in random clothes, and drag me to a shop to say nothing." mitsuya complains, crossing his arms.

ran opens his mouth, hesitates a bit, before the words begin to leave his mouth.

"what do you get a girl you want a new beginning with?" he questions, looking at mitsuya.

mitsuya's jaw drops harshly, before he grows a cheeky smile at the older's obvious blush.

ran has never been embarrassed, nervous, or even worried to the point where he went to mitsuya.

but now? this was a whole new him.

despite mitsuya being single for quite some time, he always had the best advice when it came to women.

so it was only natural he went to find mitsuya right before he goes to see you.

"amaryllis and crocus flowers." mitsuya giggles like a high school girl, nudging the taller male next to him.

and that's what ran grabs.

he also stops to get you edible arrangements, your favorite fruit in the shape of a heart.

people stared as he walked to your house, some even telling him congrats or good luck.

ran appreciated it gratefully, finally having that boost he desparately needed from random strangers.

before he knew it, he stood in front of your door and had already knocked about three times.

you call out a quick 'coming!' from behind it and a lot of shuffling could be heard.

the door swings open and you gasp loudly, eyes blown wide at the pretty bouquet and fruits in his hand.

"ran.." you call out breathlessly, fixing your clothes.

you were in one of his old band tees, one that he swore up and down rindou stole from him.

he knows it's his specifically, because rindou got it signed by the band on the shoulders.

it read 'happy birthday ran, wishing you many more' across the bottom as well.

you quickly take the flowers and fruits from him, placing it on your console table pulling the man into a deep kiss.

he kisses you back, tripping into the house as you tug him back.

“don’t even ask- yes! a hundred times yes!” you laughed, cupping his cheeks.

he grinned big at you, before kissing you again.

his heart pounded out of his chest once you let him go, and he watched as you sauntered around the home with your flowers

it was then that he could confirm, it could only be you to make him feel this way.

[cas-spirit]

Have some of my utmv headcannons

Dreamtale is, in universe, called ‘The Tale of Emotions’. Over time, however, It got ‘Killertale’d. This upsets both twins, but there’s an infinite number of au’s with an infinite number of people. Everyone close to the twins, however, calls it the correct name.

While everyone in the multiverse went from calling it ‘The Tale of Emotions’ to ‘Dreamtale’, Ink originally called it ‘Dreamtale’, because that’s what the creators called it. He switched after realizing how upset it made Dream.

After leaving his AU, goopy 6 year old Nightmare wanted to establish himself as the scariest, most dangerous threat in the multiverse. So he followed around Error, the most dangerous threat in the multiverse. Error had a dad arc.

Ink and Error are best friends.

Error’s goal to destroy the multiverse is impossible (that’s canon, I just think it’s really cool). It’s a sunk cost fallacy, which is when you invest so much into something, you can’t stop, or else why for you waste so much?

Ink knows that too. He’ll sometimes fight Error if the au is pretty new, and because he knows their fights inspire creators. Most of the time, however, he leaves Error be. After all, who are they to intrude on Error’s story?

Most AUs fall because they’ve been forgotten. They crumble like a dry, dead leaf, which is when Core Frisk gets monsters out and into the Omega Timeline.

When a creator destroys their own AU, everyone in universe forgets that the AU existed in the first place, Gaster style. The only ones that remember are Ink and Error because they’re both connected to the creators. (For example, Fell knows he’s missing a drinking buddy, but only Ink and Error know that was Flowerfell Sans, or anything about Flowerfell in the first place)

Error and Ink are both Aroace.

The multiverse just… pops shipkids into existence. Most of the time, the parents aren’t even together. (Fr though, why are all ship kid’s origins that their parents are terrible and abusive? I thought we all liked these funky skeletons?)

Ink loves the shipkids. He views them as precious gifts from the creators and takes very good care of them. He’s almost the multiverse’s CPS. Any and all of his kids are absolutely and undeniably loved.

All the Swap universe Sanses know eachother. They take turns having a training day/movie night sleepover in the others AU’s and consider each other cousins.

Blueberry is Swap’s kid.

The Fell brothers are friends with Dust and Horror. They want to fight Horrortale Undyne so bad. They had to be stopped multiple times.

Classic, Red, Swap, and Horror because a friend group after Swap and Horror had began fighting with/for Dream and Nightmare. It was awkward at first, but Swap was determined to make Horror his friend.

Ink didn’t really have a house until he met Dream. When the 6 year old broke out of stone, Ink brought him to his Dad’s house for a few days while he made a home in the doodleshpere for them. Ink had his first father arc of many.

Geno, Error, Fatal Error, and Fresh are siblings.

Geno and Dream friendship my beloved.

Geno has been asked to babysit both Dream and Nightmare at the same time before. It was always very awkward, but no fights broke out (thankfully).

Outer is the youngest Sans. (In the og Undertale, they say all kids wear stripes, and Outertale Sans does wear stripes.) He’s still an adult, and the big brother, he’s just a little bit younger than most other Sanses.

Whether or not an AU has the events of Undertale Yellow is it’s past is entirely random. Most things that happen before Frisk falls down are.

Ink has the ability to look at other multiverses. He just dislikes doing it because other Ink’s unsettle him a bit. He did once, however, because Dream asked him if he and his brother were destined to fight in every universe. Ink chose not to answer.

Despite their being an infinite number of Underswaps, everyone knows the same Swap. Blueberry has, like, a hundred babysitters.

There are a few bittybones aus. Ink has a very firm stance that no one touches them because so many creators go into bitty aus/interact directly with them.

Every story that involves the outcodes on a non multiverse scale is its own AU within the multiverse. (For example, Seabound Souls is it’s own AU, as it’s not on a multiversal scale)

The end of the multiverse is kind of like far lands in Minecraft. It’s a wall with many large, traversable holes in it. The reason people don’t tend to go into other multiverses is just how big of a distance any AU is to the multiverse boarder. If someone did manage to go that distance, however, nothing really stops them from going into another multiverse.

[holylulusworld]

Dreams of sharp teeth - Halloween

This story was written for @viking-raider's HALLOWEEN-KINKTOBER CHALLENGE. 🎃

This story was also written for @navybrat817 & @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 𝕹𝖆𝖛𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕽𝖔𝖔 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙: 𝕬𝖑𝖑 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜’𝖘 𝕿𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖘 - I used the following tropes:

An unwanted houseguest

Power outage

A string of unexplained deaths

Summary: People disappear in your sleepy town.

Work Name/Title: Dreams of sharp teeth

Author: Holylulusworld

Fandom: Henry Cavill (MI & Night hunter)

Ship: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader x Werewolf!August Walker

Square filled for @halloweenhorrorbingo: Square 3: Wouldn't even harm a fly.

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Halloween was always special to you. The costumes, carving pumpkins, and watching scary movies with your boyfriend.

Sadly, you are not allowed to leave your house tonight to watch the kids raid candy and have a few drinks with your friends. 

A string of unexplained deaths keeps people in your sleepy little town awake. It’s not unusual for people to die or get killed in accidents. But these days, people disappear and never get found. 

The few that got found were missing something important. Their hearts. That’s very unusual and concerning. Especially when the worst crime ever happening in your sleepy towns was when a few teenagers stole a car and crashed it. 

Your boyfriend is somewhere across the country, and you are alone in the empty house, feeling a little under the weather as you caught a cold from one of the kids at the local library where you’re working at.

It feels like the hours passed by in a blink, and dusk falls soon after you dragged yourself out of bed. You yawn and try to get your legs to obey. 

It’s a struggle but you manage to walk inside the kitchen to make some coffee.

You hate the dark liquid, but you are scared to fall asleep since the killings started - like everyone else in town. If only you can stay awake until dawn, the nightmares will go away.

The monotone noise the coffee brewer makes lures you into sleep again. Your eyes feel heavy, and you yawn once again. “I need to stay awake,” you remind yourself as you remember the dream you had last night.

Teeth - sharp and deadly haunt your dreams. And voices. Deep voice luring you in, calling for you in the darkness. They say your name and promise a life beyond your imagination.

Watching the coffee run into the cup you sigh. If only you could sleep for a few hours. It’s all you want and need. Your migraine is getting worse with every hour you force yourself to stay awake and you are so tired it’s painful.

“Just a few more hours,” you take a large sip of the bitter brew. “Hang on, Y/N. The curfew will be over soon. They will hunt the wolves killing the people in town down, and you can go back to your normal life.”

You chuckle as you realize that you tend to talk to yourself lately. With no one around, and no chance to leave the house, you are stuck here with too many thoughts running through your mind.

Maybe watching a movie will take your mind off the current situation in your town. You walk back inside your living room, searching for the remote control to switch the TV on. As you plop down onto the sofa, you groan as your bad knee cracks again.

“You’re getting old, Y/N,” you chuckle to yourself. “That’s payback for all the times you made fun of your mother for complaining about her age, and the little aches and pains that come with it.”

You take another sip of your coffee and switch to another channel. Horror movies are out of the question. The horror you experience in your dreams is enough. 

Switching channels, you try to find anything else to watch but a horror movie. You sigh, as you end up watching a talk show. 

Between sipping at the unwanted coffee and watching nonsense on TV you try not to fall asleep. Eyes trained on the tv you try to follow the conversation going on between the host and their guests. It’s boring but distracts you from the nightmare you had.

“It’s not that bad,” you lie to yourself while listening to the show. You are about to laugh about something the host said when the TV turns black. “NO!” All the lights go out, and you are sitting in darkness. 

Not another power outage. That’s the last thing you need right now. Fear grips your heart hearing noise come from outside your house. You grab your phone and run toward the front door to double-check if you locked it.

It’s locked, and you feel a little safer. Next is the back door, and all the windows. You almost run upstairs to check on your bedroom window, only to find it closed too.

“Y/N, you need to calm down,” you tell yourself once again. It’s hard to remain calm while people in town disappear, and die, though. “Relax. This is only another power outage. Nothing will happen to you.”

It doesn’t matter that your doors are locked. You walk back inside the kitchen and get the biggest knife you own. Your boyfriend will call you paranoid or crazy when he comes back, but you don’t care.

Better safe than sorry.

You walk back upstairs when someone knocks at your door. It’s in the dead of the night, and you don’t want to open the door. 

But what if one of your neighbors is in trouble? 

Maybe Mrs. Sinclair, a widow who can barely walk. Or Annie, from three houses down, a nurse with a heart of gold. You cannot ignore them, not if someone is in trouble.

Turning back around, the knife still in your hands you silently walk down the stairs. You’re a good neighbor, but you don’t want whoever is standing in front of your door to know that you are at home.

You look through the peephole, frowning because you can’t see shit.

“Hi, miss. I’m Walter from across the street. Your new neighbor. I mean we moved to town some months ago, but I wasn’t around much lately.”

“Walter,” you whisper and try to remember the people who moved into the only vacant house in your neighborhood.

“Walter Marshall, miss. I was checking on the neighbors if anyone needs help,” he says. “I’m with the police.”

“I locked the doors, and my boyfriend is here with me,” you don’t know why you lie to Walter, but you do. “He checks the windows. We are good, really.”

He chuckles darkly, and you step away from the door. “Sweetie, we both know you are all alone. I can hear your heart racing and smell your fear.”

Smell your fear? How’s that even possible?

You only know one thing for sure - that you won’t open the door for him. No matter what. You step backward, almost knocking the small coffee table next to your couch over as he knocks again. 

“Sweetie, open the door. It will make things so much easier for you and us.”

“Go away,” you shiver as he knocks again, louder this time. “Please just leave me alone.”

“I can’t,” he almost sounds sorry. “Y/N, you are not having a cold. Didn’t you ask yourself why so many people died after you got scratched by the kid in the library?”

You shake your head. How can he know about the incident and your cold?

“We know because we were there that day,” another voice says. You feel his hands on you, holding your trembling body in a tight grip. His strong arms wrap around your body. “Let us help you before you hurt more people. It’s not your fault. We should’ve been there to guide you through this.”

“August, go easy on her. She doesn’t know,” your eyes widen when the front door opens. You are sure you locked it and now your neighbor invades your home. “Hold her tight, we need to bring her to the basement before the moon rises again. She cannot control her powers yet.”

“What do you want? Let me go! Now,” you grow and snarl in Walter’s direction. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. “I’ll kill you.”

“I know you are confused,” August whispers in your ear. “But you need to listen to us. The kid that bit you wasn’t a normal child. It was our cousin’s boy and a werewolf. He cannot control his instinct.”

“He’s a good boy. Usually, he wouldn't even harm a fly. But the full moon was close, and you tried to take the book out of his hands. We are sorry, but you are one of us now,” Walter steps closer to cup your face. “You need to come with us before you hurt more people.”

“So far, we were able to cover your attacks. If you run around town and attack more people, they will find out about our secret, and we cannot let this happen.”

“I don’t…understand. I was at the library and then I…” you frown. “I lost track of time. My boyfriend…I need to call him. I…”

“Sweetie,” Walter tries to calm you. Your eyes glow, and you snap your teeth in his direction. “This is going to be hard to stomach but...”

August holds you a little tighter before he says, “He was your first victim…”

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! This is the end of this year's kinktober.

Tags in reblog.

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel||Alastor X Reader||Stress Relief

Take a deep breath, before you yell at some poor face who just happens to have the misfortune to walking in to one of your days, where everything seems to be going south.

This seemed to have taken one of the most bizarre turns you could have ever imagined, you had no idea why you had agreed to such a trivial, petty matter.

Oh! Now you remember it was Charlie, who had clasped your hand looked at you with the doe eyes which reminded you of some of the Korean shows you watched as a teen and young adult.

You would admire the eye makeup, the most because once your dad who had been a makeup artist had told his philosophy of makeup to look absolutely flawless, the eyes and lips should be standing out the most.

Totally irrelevant, you didn't understand the point of recalling this faint memory of your dad. You wished you could just go back to your suburban house, in the mountainside feel the spring flowers touch your skin again, you can't believe you once hated them.

Well, you always, miss what you once never cherished and lost.

"Coming this far, can't believe all the messed-up hotel mess is on Y/n." Angel dust once told Alastor, "The civil examinations study there and study even after your dead!"

"A what now?" Alastor questioned, "Oh! you didn't know? Not very bad now, are you?" Niffty asked, climbing on Alastor.

"What exams?" Alastor had asked once again, pushing Niffty from his shoulder,

"You always are the last person to know about anything are you? Don't you have like special powers or something which you can spy on anyone?"

Alastor looked at them like he was just about to lose his smiling grin, but of course smile is the best makeup.

"So, you know right Heaven is facing some economical crisis they spent so much time providing the 'perfect after life' guess the angels forgot money doesn't exactly grow on trees." Angel said sarcastically. But some hints of satisfaction could be made out.

"How exactly is this related to Y/n now?"

"You seriously don't know anything." Vaggie interjected, "When you had mysteriously run of in one of your 'expeditions' Adam the asshole came to the hotel, not for the execution apparently in the weekly magazine or something in heaven there was about a mysterious economist, or a business manager who was really good at managing expenses and could stabilize the afterlife."

"Well that turned out nicely did it not?"

"Ugh!" Vaggie hit her head, "No you egocentric, piece of shi--"

"Don't try that with me." Alastor warned,

"Yeah yeah she's really good." Angel finished, "It was tracked to Y/n, now heaven knows that Y/n is still choosing to be in hell, Now they want her there in heaven."

"To help them manage there life."

"Y/n has to write a civil exam the hardest one, or else they would attack the hotel."

"Well they don't know who they are messing with."

You sniffled, "Can't do this anymore." You murmured, "Want to die."

"Now my dear, is that a word you should use when you are literally saving the hotel?" Alastor appeared like the shadow, like always.

"Alastor?" You slowly poked your head from the blanket, "Why dear you're a mess!" Alastor said moving next to you on the bed,

"Can I put my head on your lap?" You asked, he nodded cheerfully.

"So why did you agree to this my dear?"

"I didn't want to fail everyone the extermination is already scheduled earlier than expected I didn't want to crush Charlie's dream."

"You're working really hard, without sleeping, isn't that concerning? It's concerning me."

"Thank god your here!" You said,

Alastor put a hand on your tear-stained cheeks.

"It's time for a little rest. Dear."

"I can't the exam is in three more days I think, I don't know how time works in hell."

"If That Adam guy keeps bothering you, I'll just remind him why I am here."

You laughed, "I'm sure you will."

You kissed his cheek, "Thank you."

"Never forget to smile my dear, and now take care."

He switched of the lights, and saw you instantly hold him close before cuddling up to him, he really knew how to make you loosen up a bit.

[dp-marvel94]

I just finished your cat acquisition portal au fix and I loved it! Missy my beloved. I can't help but imagine Danny instinctively going invisible and intangible out of sheer 'oh shit' at the end, which would NOT make either of them more calm. Ahdjfkf I also read the end note and I think I speak for everyone in that we would LOVE to hear your deranged ideas <3

This is in reference to this story, An unconventional way to get a cat.

Thanks for sending the ask! Missy really is the best girl. I can definitely see Danny turning invisible and intangible and freaking Jazz out even more. XD

Okay, so you asked for more details so get ready. This is going to be a ride. 😅

Fic below the cut, featuring my favorite: spilt Danny. And Danny literally becoming the ghost portal? About 3k words

So right at the end, something bigger than anything else he’d felt so far came through the portal but disappeared, right? There was a big flash of light as the ghost portal opened through him, and Danny was a ghost. He and Jazz both freak out about this, thinking he finally actually died. Then he turns human with another flash of light. And he’s back to normal, except with a weird ghost that looks just like him laying on the floor, very confused and disoriented.

Que more freaking out. The ghost runs off, just as freaked out as Danny and Jazz. The two siblings throw out a lot of ideas about what just happened. Maybe the weird ghost is some kind of shape shifter? They have no idea and no way to find out. They definitely are not telling their parents. And how are they supposed to go after the ghost? So they just… try to move on, try to find a way to stop Danny throwing his guts out, and enjoy some kitty cuddles.

Having a ghost that looks just like him flying around the town is weird for Danny, though. He has weird dreams, as if he’s seeing Amity Park from above. Weird, random feelings. Thoughts that echo, that feel not quite like his own but somehow unquestioningly are. And… memories of green swirling clouds and purple doors. Danny feels… strange. He’s felt weird since the accident but this is something else. An invisible line connecting him to… something. The feeling that something is missing.

Danny ends up hacking up more ghost animals, even some humanoid ghosts. He gets weird dreams of fighting ghosts… even when he’s awake. School starts and he inevitably has to tell Sam and Tucker. The trio encounter the Lunch Lady, and Danny’s weird ghostly double. Looking at the ghost boy is very strange. It kinda makes his head hurt, like he’s staring in a funhouse mirror. And Danny has an uneasy feeling that the dreams he’s been having aren’t quite dreams.

Things get even more strange when Danny blinks and finds himself floating above Amity Park. He… can’t snap himself back to his body. Shocked, he’s actually here, floating in the air. Like… just before his look alike showed up. Did the ghost possess him (semi-possess?) him again? That must have been what happened then. The ghost came through, immediately overshadowed him and then got thrown out. Except Danny has control of his body and there isn’t another voice in his head (at least not anymore than normal). He manages to fly back to his house. To find himself freaking out in his room.

So apparently the ghost switched bodies with him. And the ghost, Phantom, is no help. He has no idea what is happening. He doesn’t even know who he is. All he remembers is floating on the other side of the portal, guarding it. One day there had been a pain, a green flash and he’d been in the Zone in front of the ghost portal and he knew it was his job to guard it. He wasn’t very good at it though. Ghost animals kept coming through and… it was calling him. Or maybe something on the other side was. But he just knew he had to come through. So he touched the rift and found himself in the human world. That weird…possession was crazy but when their body turned warm and human, he was just Phantom again. 

This answers very little. Eventually the two switch back. The memory, thought, and emotion sharing is even more intense now. The two keep switching places. Danny fights the ghost in Phantom’s place. The ghost gets an… oddly familiar taste of Danny Fenton’s life. And inevitably, the two bond, forming an odd friendship through their efforts to hide their weirdness from the Fenton parents and the town as a whole. They find they have a lot in common too. Phantom loves puns as much as Danny does. The human boy’s love of the stars is as great as his ghostly friend’s. Music, books, movies, games. They squeeze so many shared interests into the quieter moments. Sometimes they but-heads because of how similar they are but… overall Danny is happy. Phantom feels like the brother he never had. Maybe the ghost is his twin that he absorbed in the womb. Maybe he’s just a random ghost that he was lucky enough to meet. Either way, it’s nice to have met him.

But, things are not all good. The portal is getting worse. More ghosts are coming through. More fights, worse injuries. Phantom’s powers are growing, including new, hard to control ice powers. And the portal feels colder too. Danny can feel it swirling. He can feel the tenderals spreading, wrapping around his bones and organs. It… shines through his skin. He can see it, a ball of neon green below his ribs. It flashes bigger, blinding him when it opens. And… each time, the spot of light is a little bigger.

One morning, Danny wakes up to a tingling feeling on his skin. Like the occasional invisibility and intangibility he experiences when he’s Phantom but… it's pervasive, spreading from his stomach to the surface. He lifts his shirt and… the portal is there. On his skin? In his skin? Above his skin? It does not make any sense but it is there, bound to him and visible. The size of his fist, it swirls below his rib cage. He brushes it with a finger and… it is like touching his own skin. At the same time, it is like brushing cold mist. His hand sinks in, not intangible but like sticking his hand in a bucket. And he shivers. He can feel it, the cold atmosphere of the Realms on his hand… and the portal swirling around his wrist. He feels the mist brushing the hand and his mist brushing the hand. Like he is  both hand and mist.

Danny rips his hand out, as if he has been burned. Horror sinks into him. What is happening to him?

The switching keeps happening and the portal keeps growing. And Danny is scared. He hides it from his friends and sister. At first, it’s not that hard. A shirt is enough to cover the swirling gate below his ribs. But it spreads onto his shoulder, below his belly button. He switches to long shirts and hoodies. He is nervous and on edge, avoiding his friends, changing the subject whenever Jazz asks what’s wrong.

But there is no hiding from Phantom. Not when half the time Danny’s body is his. The ghost is oddly quiet about the problem. Sometimes Danny catches the ghost looking at him, brow furrowed with thought. Phantom is closing off, acting more distant.

But Danny can barely notice as the dread turns to terror. His heart races, he can’t sleep, can’t eat. Every minute, he can feel the portal getting bigger. He can feel it eating at his insides, invading them, turning them to ice and mist and evaporating them. He can feel it grow and tear, lashing out to replace and pull apart. And it doesn’t even hurt. It should hurt. Being unmade, being changed should hurt. A part of Danny wants it to hurt. The portal is killing him. In the end, it will destroy him. And he doesn’t want to die. Or… 

A much worse possibility screams at the back of his mind, in the way he feels his shirt above the portal entrance, can feel small ghosts flitting through. Mutation, transformation, horrible violating change….

Down in the empty portal one night, Danny cries alone. All this struggling, all this hiding and for what? He really is going to die down here, where he should have all those months ago. The portal has spread to just above his knees, to his elbows. He can barely stand, barely walk now. He can’t fill his fingers. But he can feel it, every inch. The portal is killing him, tearing him apart. It pulses, ready for release. And part of him wants to give in but… his friends and sister. Phantom, his precious double. This would be giving up, leaving them. But… he can’t do this, can’t keep fighting forever.

“Danny!” Phantom is there, kneeling in front of him.

The human (Is ever human anymore, with this.. thing parasitizing his body?) blinks, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“You can’t give up.”

Danny hears the words but… it’s too much. “I’m… I’m scared.” He cries. Just moments ago, he wanted to let the portal rip him apart. Dying was terrifying. But… “I can’t… I can’t keep fighting it. I…” A flash of cold. Danny feels the green claw up his neck. “It’s going to rip me apart. It’s going to kill me, really kill me this time. But…” He hiccups, the sound part cry, part laugh. “What if I don’t die? What if…” A tendril curls passed his knee, half way down his calf. “I can feel it, the portal. I can feel it like… like it’s my own skin. What if it… it destroys me but I… I’m still…”

He can’t force out the words, not with the cold tickling his throat, with the tears drowning his voice. But the thought…. What if the portal destroys his body but he still exists? What if it breaks out of his fragile human body and becomes him? What if he becomes it? The un-living gate between worlds, trapped in his cage of metal. Without sight or sound, just… his thoughts and the ghosts swimming through him forever.

“You won’t be trapped.” 

That… is not what Danny expected Phantom to say. He opens his eyes, tears cutting off in his shock. “What?”

The ghost shakes his head. “I figured it out. Why the accident made me, why you called me through.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We really should have figured it out months ago. The shared memories was a big hint. And the switching bodies.” He rolls his eyes. 

“What are-”

Phantom takes his hands. “You are the portal. There’s no denying it now. It’s part of you. It is you.”

“No.” Pure despair. The word echoes, more thought and emotion that sound, Danny’s throat replaced by the green. 

It’s true then. A few more minutes and he’ll be nothing more than a cloud of mist, hanging in the frame. At least he’ll get to say goodbye-

“Stop that.” Phantom reprimands. “This isn’t the end. You’ll survive this.” 

Danny narrows his eyes. He appreciates the attempt at comfort but it was too late for comforting lies. Even if he wouldn’t die, this is still the end.

The ghost points up the stairs. “You will walk up their stairs in a few minutes and go to bed. You’ll go to school on Monday and the Nasty Burger and bug Jazz and…” Phantom is crying now too. “We’ll… we’ll do it together.”

Danny feels it, Phantom means every word. He is so sure but-

“I’m your ghost. I’m your ghost, Danny.” The ghost boy shrugs, eyes glistening with tears. “I always have been. Your accident made me. You made me. You called me through the gate. You made me, an echo, your friend. And now…” He sniffled, a soft smile blooming. “I’m… I’m becoming something more.”

Hands still clasps, Phantom brings one of Danny’s to his hazmat suited chest. The still-flesh fingers feel and… 

“That’s… that’s impossible.” Danny’s eyes widened awed. There under his hand, in Phantom’s chest is a heart beat.

“Is it really?” The ghost raises one eyebrow.

“Yes! You’re a ghost. This is…” Danny trails off. No, of course, it’s not impossible. He’s becoming a ghost portal and Phantom… “Why are you telling me this?” His mind whirls. He imagines, Phantom as a human. Like so many times before, laying in his bed, doing his homework, going to school, hanging out with his friends. Danny can’t help but smile. The thought of his fading away and Phantom taking his life, the tastes he’d loved so much becoming real…

“No. I said… I said we’d go up those stairs together.” Desperation in Phantom’s voice.

Danny blinks. He does not understand. 

“When I first came through the portal, and we shared a body and mind. It only lasted for a few seconds but…”

Dread, excitement, anticipation bubble in what once was Danny’s stomach. In Phantom’s chest he can feel his, their heart pounding. “But…. Phantom, what happens to you if that… if… if we…”

The ghost shakes his head. “We’ve always been a step from being the same person. I think…. We’d finally fall into step.”

They’d fall into step… 

The portal pulses, his arms and legs consumed. 

“I’ve always been you.” Phantom says. “And you… you’ve felt it too, the link between us. We’re intertwined.”

The ghost is… right. Of course he is. Danny feels it in Phantom’s bones. The tip of his nose disappears…

Fear on Phantom’s face. “What matters is…. Not matter what happens to me, you won’t be trapped in the frame. I…” The ghost steels his face. “I wouldn’t take your life without you in it. Go back up those stairs with me.”

Danny stares for a long moment. He is just a pair of eyes now, two hands, and two feet. The pleading, the desperation in Phantom…. His other self’s eyes. “O… okay.”

The boy-who-was-a-portal pulls his ghost into a hug. His portal self pulses, straining to fill its proper shape. The last of his mortality in ghostly hands… the two fragmented minds intertwine. Ghost and human and something all together other fall into the weave. Danny releases.

The portal explodes out, a supernova of force. Yet contained by its mind. The green mist coalesses, filling the metal machine made by his parent’s hands. The gateway becomes and the new born halfa inside floats out.

The halfa blinks for a long moment, staring at the portal, his other body. A gloved hand over his chest, heart and core intertwined. Ghostly chill in his veins and human warmth.

He breathes out and… laughs with relief. His portal self pulses with mirth, mist curling. 

“I’m… I’m alive. That worked. Danny… Phantom… we did it.”

He is a ghost and he is alive. He is a gateway and he is a boy. He is Danny and he is Phantom. And he is whole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah, yall know how much I love split Danny so this idea was born out of that love. If you’ve read my other words, you’ll probably notice some thematic similarities to Face to Face, hence why I never wrote this despite coming up with this idea first. Seriously, I was daydreaming about this fic while I was in grad school and supposed to be paying attention in the lecture I was TAing. 😅

The portal consuming Danny’s physical body was an interesting idea which came from free story I read on Kindle years ago. It was either a one off short story or in an anthology but I had not luck finding it. It was about a man who got a case of cancerous pocket dimension. Basically, this pocket of space appeared on his stomach and grew like a cancer, eventually destroying him. It was sad, about his wrestling with his impending death and leaving his daughter behind. About how his new part of space was being created with his life and yet he would not live to see it. He was not becoming the space, no part of his consciousness would stay. And yet, the planet that was visible through the spot, a new planet in a whole new universe, which he told his daughter about and showed her to her amazement, was named after her. A part of him did survive. 

I swear the story was a lot more poignant that my explanation and I really wish I could find it but I’m having no luck. 😭

Anyway, thanks for pushing me into writing this. Feel free to tell me what you think!

[1u11ablues]

Lesson (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Warning: smut. Part two of Pudding. Posted this on ao3 but might as well post here

You made a mistake. You thought you could wiggle your way into the locked room of the house you were breaking into, but didn't realize there was another locking mechanism after you've successfully picked the first one. This triggered the alarm, and you had to escape before they caught you. 

In the end, you decided to jump out of the small opening of a window, manipulating the air to cushion your fall. You escaped with minimal injuries, only a busted lip, and bruises on your right cheek. 

Everyone was glad that you were okay, everyone except Kaz. Oh, Kaz was furious. He was silent the entire ride back, and no one dared to make a sound for fear of angering him even further. You've never seen Kaz this angry, this quiet—surely they have had failed jobs before, right? Why is he treating this like it's more important than the other ones?

Kaz couldn't believe you would stray out of the plan like that. That room was not even one of the ones you were supposed to break into, and you blatantly ignored his warning when he told you to leave it. 

You need to be taught a lesson, and he's going to be one harsh teacher.

As soon as you arrived at the Barrel, everyone scampered to find something else to do, anything, just so they don't have to face Kaz while he's still livid. Jesper decided to man the bar while Inej went off to steal customers from the new gambling den just opened three buildings down from the Crow Club. Anika and Roeder chose to unwind from the failure by drinking and gambling, with no judgments from you.

They left you with Kaz in the carriage, the tension so thick it's suffocating. Not meeting his eyes, you whispered, "I'm gonna get cleaned up," pointing towards your injuries. 

Kaz put his fingers under your chin and lifted your face so you're looking him right in his eyes. His usual dark coffee now looks inky black. Maybe it was the lack of sunlight. Or maybe you're in deep, deep trouble. 

He traced his finger over your lips, and you flinched a little in pain, but why did you feel a familiar heat blooming in the way Kaz handled you like this? You felt his firm grip, saw his eyes scanning your face before ending at your lips, try to close your eyes...

When Kaz releases you and says "sort yourself out, and meet me at my room after," before leaving the carriage abruptly.

Oh, no. You're dead. 

Taking some sweet time in the shower, you run various simulations on how you're going to apologize to Kaz later. It's not that you're scared of him lashing out at you—no, not at all—you're more terrified of the fact that you've disappointed him. You realized that facing his wrath is a million times better than being told you're not good enough for the gang. 

***

Kaz is in his room, trying to keep busy by doing some paperwork and mentally re-running what happened earlier again and again. 

When he saw you fall out of that window... he only heard ringing. The world started to go out of focus while his eyes scanned for you—for any sign that you were okay. If anything were to happen to you, he'll blame himself. He'll have to live with it for the rest of his life—the fact that he cares, the truth that he'll switch places with you right then and there if it means breaking another leg. Please, please be okay, he repeated to himself over and over again. 

When you emerged from the bushes basically unharmed, relief took over him, before being replaced with anger and frustration. Suddenly all the nights he went to bed dreaming about you and the addition of having to face your mortality snowballed into one big frustrating mess, and now he's having really dark, obscene thoughts of you again, bent over him, cane marks slowly welting on your ass. 

Saints, she'll be the death of me.

***

The sun had set when you started making your way into Kaz's room, steps light and unsure. Anything can happen. Maybe he'll shout. Maybe he'll throw you out into the streets. Maybe he'll try to choke you. Well, that's not the worst thing that could happen. 

Three knocks on his door. "Enter." Has the paint on his door always been that shade of brown? 

You enter, then slowly close the door behind you. Taking a seat on the edge of his window, you manage a small "Kaz..." to gauge his temper. So far, unreadable. That's how he always is. Cold Kaz. Cruel Kaz.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" Still looking at some papers in his hands,

he finally speaks after an eternity of silence. 

"Yes," came your curt reply. Kaz finally looks at you, eyebrows raised as if to say: enlighten me, then.

"I wasn't supposed to go into that room," your tone breathy, " 'twas not part of the plan." 

"So why did you?"

"I-I thought that a room locked tight like that means the owner must've hidden something important. I'm sure if I came through the window, I won't trigger any alarms, and we'll stumble into something big."

Another 5 minutes of silence. 

"Do you know what happens when you don't follow the plan, grisha?" Kaz grips his cane to help him up. "People get hurt. And in this business, getting hurt means dying."

You look up at him, unaware that your head was down this whole time. 

"I didn't know there was a second lock!"

Ugh, you hate this, hate how you can't even look at his face without tears threatening to escape. 

"I just—I thought you'd be proud of me when I managed to go through that first one, see how good I was. I guess I didn't really think—"

"That your actions have consequences? That you might've cost someone their life? Why would you think your little lockpicking success would matter in the face of life and death?"

You stay silent. Try to keep your composure. Crying will not help, in fact, it'll only make it worse. What boss wants someone who can't even face confrontation properly?

He's right, it doesn't. Looking back now, it all seems so silly. Why were you trying so hard to impress Kaz Brekker?

And just like that, droplets of tears escape your bleary eyes. 

Not good enough repeating itself over and over in your head. Your mother's words. Your father's look. 

You need to get out of here, but your feet are locked in place. Your thoughts keeping you caged at that moment. 

Kaz didn't mean to raise his voice. He was just trying to make you understand that next time, luck won't be on your side. You almost died, and he was scared. He never meant to make you question your worth, but he doesn't know what's running through your mind at that moment. He sees the tears hanging on your chin, contemplating whether to let them dry on their own, or use his hands to wipe them off.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, "It won't happen again." You start to leave before Kaz has a chance to threaten your position. Right as you reach to open his door, you feel a pull on your wrist. You look and find Kaz's gloved hand wrapped around it firmly.

Your eyes met his." No, it won't," he repeats, "because if it does, then I'll lose you."

He pulls you into him and looks into your eyes, and you can see worry etched across the lines on his face. "And I can't—I won't—let that happen." Before you could answer, his lips kiss the tears on your cheeks in silent apology. You're safe. Whatever ruminating thoughts he had in his head earlier, it's now replaced with a new sense of urgency. His lips chase the tears away from you, but he stops right at the corner of your lips, not wanting to push further, afraid that he'll scare you away.

"Kaz..." Your mind is buzzing. The kisses left patches of warmth on your skin, suddenly growing hungry, wanting more. You crash your lips into his, teeth clashing over the sudden impact. Kaz is a little surprised at first, but very quickly melts into your kiss, being very careful to not bust your lips open again.

"Careful, you're injured," Kaz reminded you after breaking the kiss, his breathy voice making you shiver. 

"So, does this mean you're not kicking me out?"

Kaz rolls his eyes, "Why would I do that?"

"Because I messed up? Although in my defense, no one told me—”

"Stop talking before I make you. I'm not kicking you out. You're a part of us now, and you can't get rid of us that easily. You're stuck with us, stuck with me now."

"Well," you answered, purposely trying to rile him up. He glares at you, reminding you of his threat earlier. "I suppose being stuck with you is not the worst thing in the w—”

Kaz trails kissed down your jaw, to your neck, sucking deeply to leave a mark there. You moan involuntarily, and Kaz decided that was one of the prettiest sounds he ever heard, and makes it his mission to elicit as much of it out of you as he can. 

He sits on the edge of his bed and settles your standing form in between his legs, then proceeds to have his taste.

You close your eyes, no longer able to think about anything besides how good this feels. Kaz's mouth lowered inch by inch, savoring your skin like a man deprived. You don't even realize it when he unbuttons your shirt and exposes your skin underneath his lust-blown gaze. Of course, he should've known that you don't like to wear anything under your shirt, judging by your constant choice of loose clothing. He licks down the middle of your chest and you whine when he takes his sweet time on your skin, making a mental map of every curve, every scar, every mark that litters your body. "Kaz, please,"

He stills. "Please what?" You take his hands and place his palm on your breast, wanting him to do more than just leave kisses. "Now you stop talking, huh? This won't do. If you want me to do something, you have to tell me. Use your words." 

"Kaz, I want m-more. Please make me feel good."

He smirked and palms your breast roughly—gloved hands providing just enough friction—mouth latching over your other nipple. Your legs go wobbly over his ministrations, so he pulls you to straddle his thighs after he unbuttons your pants. He pulls his gloves off with his teeth, making you clamp on his thighs, arousal leaking on his trousers.

"No panties, either?" Kaz's head tilts up to you. You shrug in reply, your smug smile disappearing when Kaz dips his fingers between your folds to collect some of your slick. 

"This wet already? Look at the mess you made on my pants....tsk," he says before licking his fingers, tasting you. You watch it all in awe, heat pooling at your core. Never in a million years would you think that you'd find yourself in this position. You kissed Kaz again, grinding yourself on the bulge in his pants, smirking when you manage to make him groan.

He puts you on his bed while he tries to undress, leaving his boxers on. You tangle your fingers in his hair while he licks the skin of your tummy, going lower and lower, heart beating fast at the anticipation. He parts your thighs and kneels before you, cock twitching at the sight. He wanted nothing more than to ruin you, but decided to take it slow for now. He kisses your inner thighs, enjoying the way your pussy clenches as he gets closer to your heat. You buck your hips, urging him to pick up his pace. Saints know how long you've wanted this. 

Sensing this, Kaz licks a stripe up your folds, making sure to put extra pressure on your clit. You moan at the sensation, a fresh wave of heat traveling up your spine. 

"Better than that damn pudding," he manages, before licking you like he hasn't eaten in days. He pays extra attention to your clit, inserting one finger into you and pumping in and out. 

Your hands pull at his hair and he groans, making his movements more fervent as he sees you enjoying it. "That's a good girl," he muttered, and he feels your pussy fluttering at the praise. He cocked his eyebrows, delighted to learn that about you. 

You can feel the coil tighten as he keeps his pace, but he's relentless. Every now and again he stops licking to suck on your clit, earning the most delicious moans out of you. His boxers are now stained with pre-cum, his covered cock angry to be inside you. He waited long enough for this. Surely he can wait a little longer.

"Kaz," you arch up slightly, a bead of sweat dripping down the back of your thighs "I-I'm " 

"Come."

The stern tone in his order does it for you. Your eyes roll back as he curls his finger slightly, stroking that deep spot in you that made you arch higher. Kaz smirks at the way you fall apart at his tongue and fingers, uttering small praises here and there now that he knows you like it.

He kneels in between you, waiting for a second to give you some space to breathe. Your eyes are closed because of how intense the orgasm is. Longing and frustration give one hell of a climax. You open your eyes and see Kaz just smiling, watching you, his cock straining under his boxers, a wet patch visible. “Had enough?” he questioned you, and you thought he was joking, but Kaz doesn’t do jokes. 

“Not a chance. You?" you reply, propping yourself up with your elbows.

"You already know my answer."

You sit up and pull him down for a kiss, licking every inch of his lips to taste yourself on him. Your hands search for the waistband of his boxers, pausing to palm him through it. He jolts forward and mutters a breathless "Saints," making you smile at the desperation. Kaz notices this and stops your hand, causing you to look at him in confusion.

"What do you want?" There's the Kaz you know. You proceed to tug his boxers down to answer, but he removes your hand from him. "Tsk," his fingers now find their way under your chin, making you look at him. Saints, he loves that look on your face. Half-lidded, blushing, and needy to be filled. Enough to make even the most irredeemable non-believer sing verses of prayer like he grew up on it.

"Thought I told you to use your words." he reminded you, his fingers encircling your wrist. You whine, because how could he not understand? You want him inside you, feel him stretching you out, want him to make you feel complete.

"Darling," 

"I want you to fuck me, Kaz. Want your cock in me, please? And if you don't stop it with the nicknames—"

Kaz tilted his head, prompting you to continue.

"Then you're gonna have to burn these bed sheets after today." 

Kaz snickered, guiding your hands to the waistband, and you noticed how big his hands are compared to yours.

"See? That's not so hard to say," he told you. And feel free to leave your scent on my bed before you go.

He releases his cock at your request, and you drool at the sight of it. You lurch forward to lick the precum on his head, then try to take him in your mouth. Keyword tried. You only managed halfway through before his head hit the back of your throat and made your eyes water. Still, Kaz enjoyed it all the same, his hands gripping your head, struggling to not thrust deeper into you.

After making sure you got his cock all wet, he instructs you to lie down and chuckles when you do it so eagerly. He pulls you to the edge of his bed and kneels in between your thighs, rubbing your folds with his cock. You bite your lips as he coats his hard length with your slick, hitting your bundle of nerves so deliciously as new waves of arousal seep out of you. Slowly, he pushes his tip in while he pins your hips down, making sure you adjust to his size. You never pin Kaz as someone capable of being this gentle, especially given his reputation as Dirtyhands. Suddenly your heart feels full—as full as your pussy, spasming over his cock when he finally buried himself in you.

"That's it, taking me so well," Kaz praises as he sets a steady pace pumping into you. You sob as you feel the ridges of his length massaging your walls and hitting that spot that stokes the fire in you every time he moves. When you feel the familiar coil tightening, you start to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. "Kaz, harder," you whispered, and he started pounding into you at a brutal pace. You bite your lips to contain yourself, but Kaz slaps your clit in disapproval." I want to hear every little sound coming out of that pretty mouth," he tells you as he pins both of your hands up your head, his pace stuttering as he's close. "Yes s-sir," you answered, and you can feel Kaz's cock twitching inside you.

"Saints, you feel so good around me," he bends to whisper in your ear, his hand on your clit in furious circles. You're so, so close now, and by the way Kaz is thrusting, so is he. Your hands find their way on his back, scratching him, pleasure too overpowering to care about the marks you're leaving.

"Come for me, darling," Kaz orders, and your mouth falls open as your body rides the waves of delicious orgasm, spasming involuntarily. Kaz pulls out and you feel warm spurts of come painting your stomach, and when you open your eyes you see him standing over you, admiring you like a piece of art.

He dons on a robe before leaving, promptly returning with a soft damp cloth to wipe you off. You wrap your fingers around his wrist as he does, and Kaz looks at you, the soft glow of light through his windows hitting the apple of your cheeks as you smile. He's not religious by any means, but how many times have he uttered ‘saints’ because of you? His heart skips a beat. He reaches up to caress you—wanting to ask you millions of questions all of a sudden—but for now, he'll let the moment ingrain itself into his brain and ask you about them tomorrow . 

Part 1

[honeypipin]

Atlas

---------------------------------

---------------------------------

Chapter 3 (silly billies!!)

(Disclaimer: Some violence, König feels a bit silly sometimes and is trying to keep calm he is totally going crazy over you)

---------------------------------

Water

When it gets dark, no one can leave their house unless they are military personnel. No one else has the tools to survive against such aggressive cryptids, so it makes sense.

The annoying thing is, some nights, you might even have to spend the night inside your house in the dark too. Cryptids are attracted to bright lights, and when those with keener senses are reported, turning a switch on is suicide.

Hence, why now, you are patting every surface in your immediate vicinity to make sure you don't fall flat on your face - so far, its working.

You just need to find the water bottles.

But when you step back, you press into something hard... like a wall... but a bit soft?

You jump, of course, but you hear nothing there. So you wave your hand where it was, and nothing's there?? So weird.

You'd never get used to navigating your house in the dark, but you had to move on, after all, Vicki and her friend are waiting for you to get water for their tea party, you can't mess up Vicki's first (not really) sleepover!

Finally, you found some water on the kitchen counter, you completely forgot you placed it there, but god are you glad you did.

You start to walk up the stairs. Then you hear a scream. You run upstairs. You swing Vicki's bedroom door open, where you expect to see blood and gore again, you see something different.

Fredrick was laying on the floor, having wrestled this wolf-looking, massive cryptid off of him, he manages to chuck it outside, yanks down the outer shutters, and slams the window closed. The first time you have ever seen someone ever overpower a cryptid, and it is mind blowing.

Of course, the two little girls start crying out of shock, hell, if you weren't meant to be comforting them, you would too. After a while, you and Fredrick are able to calm them down and put them to sleep, through doing so, however, you find out that Vicki's friend, Esha, had opened the window after she saw a little puppy lost outside.

Normally, you would just calm the girls down, tell them that it wasn't their fault, they're too young to know, and "just promise me you'll never do it again, ok?" And that would be that.

But something wont add up, how did they see past the shutters? That doesn't make sense at all! The shutters close together, automatically, how were they up?

"I- I just don't get it Fredrick, everything closes together, how was that shutter up? I can't- I don't know. It doesn't make sense."

Fredrick sighs sympathetically next to you, sitting in your living room together at 2 AM was not how you expected your next interaction with your favourite neighbour, but its the interaction you got.

"It may have just not closed tonight," He puts a hand on your shoulder. "There's not much that we can do for now, anyways, lets just sleep it out until morning, and then you can call over a technician."

"Yeah... you're right, i should at least get some sleep."

Fredrick, the brilliant man he is, then one who immediately scaled the wall to chase the cryptid that snuck into Vicki's room, the man that had saved your lives, goes, "I should be going home then"

"Sorry?"

"...I should be going home?"

"How on earth are you expecting to go home and survive when that... thing is out there, not to be rude Fredrick, but have you lost your mind?!".

"Er- no, it would just be rude for me to stay longe-"

"Rude?! You saved our lives Fredrick! Please, just stay for the night, I would 't be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

Never in a million dreams would König turn this down. The perfect opportunity to stay over at your darling neighbour's for the night, especially after being your hero? Mit freunden!

"I... fine, I will, but I will sleep on the couch."

"The couch?! No way, I'll take the couch and you take the bed."

"Absolutely not."

"But you're my guest!"

"I am not the type of man to force you to sleep on your couch in your own home. I will sleep on the couch."

"Fredrick."

"No, I will not hear it."

"Fine we both sleep on the bed!"

"No we will- wait. What?"

"I have a king-sized bed, we are adults, I'm sure we can manage going to sleep."

"But- that would be-"

"Do you want me to sleep on the couch then?"

"No..."

"Then its settled. We sleep on the bed."

"Okay."

König followed you obediently, but there's no denying how shocked he was. You know that feeling you get when everything goes your way and you're so stunned by it you can't even say anything? That's how König felt, so surprised that everything is going well for him, this never happens! (He's definitely not complaining though)

The next thing that happens practically sends him into shell shock. Now he understands summer heat. And he understands that people get sweaty in it, so does he! Austrian mountains usually run quite cold compared to where he was now.

But he is certain you are trying to kill him because you are going to lie down, next to him, in the same bed, in those shorts?! How can you step out the bathroom so casually like you haven't just dropped his jaw? Do you think he cant see you in the dark? Because he most certainly can.

You get under the covers and lay down next to him.

"Goodnight Fredrick."

"Goodnight."

It takes around 30 minutes, but eventually you fall asleep don't ask how he knows what you sleeping sounds like and he can finally turn to face you. Oh, you put a pillow between you two so you don't accidentally hug him searching for body warmth? Well its ok, he'll let you anyways! Hope you don't mind him chucking that pillow to the other side of the room.

König stares at your face, eyes pressed shut and your breathing sounds like you're at the start of your sleep cycle. A gentle smile graces his lips when he hears the soft snores coming from you, he cups your cheeks and marvels at how soft your skin is compared to his. How big his hand is compared to your cheek, how tight your- he really needs to calm down. What if you woke up right now?

What if you woke up right now? Would you smile under his embrace? Kiss his fingers and giggle at his flustered state? Would you plead sweetly for him to take that damn mask off just so you could kiss his lips? He's not sure how you'd react to his face, but he'd be willing to risk it for you.

The night carries on with König staring at your face, occasionally taking pictures of you sleeping, and eventually falling asleep cuddling you. Exactly what König had wanted - he was overjoyed!

When you finally wake up, its morning, but the way König hugs you makes it impossible to wake him up. After a strenuous effort, you reach for your phone to check the time. 8:28 AM?

Oh well, he did literally save your life last night, a few more hours of sleep was the least you could do for him.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Forever Home Masterlist (2)

part one

and the house becomes a home again (ao3) - BLUEGREYKIM

Summary: Dan’s plane lands at one-thirty-two AM (he’s been tracking the flight since it took off, and his stomach’s been flipping with jitters since Dan’s phone switched to aeroplane mode and his texts stopped going through).

Two and a half months, since Dan's been home, and Phil has been going crazy.

(also known as the dan comes home fic)

cat bells (ao3) - N_Chu4Ever

Summary: The catboy photoshoot, except it all goes weirdly wrong because Phil accidentally bought Dan a magic cat costume off the internet. Oops.

cat bells 2: the philling (ao3) - N_Chu4Ever

Summary: Just after rewatching the first three PINOFs, a mysterious package arrives on Dan and Phil's doorstep. Inside is a new cat costume... and Phil has a slightly terrible idea.

🌸 cherry blossom 🌸 (ao3) - natigail

Summary: It had been a silly dream at first. The idea to have a cherry blossom tree in their garden they didn't even have yet. It hadn't felt like it was something that would really happen.

But it was real. Dan was watching their tree, Phil's arms around him, and hoping they would get to see its first bloom soon.

Couch Potatoes (ao3) - ahappyphil

Summary: Picking a sofa for the forever home

Curse of the Golden Pig (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Dan disapproves of some of Phil's interior design choices — and despite all the compromises they've had to make, there's still a whole lot of them in the forever home. If he finds out Phil has snuck any of them into their new bedroom, and they're off-putting enough, he'll even refuse to sleep (or do anything ... else) in the same room as them.

Phil knows his whining is mostly superficial, though — Dan really doesn't mind it as much as he makes it seem, and even just a few kisses will make his facade crumble... a flawless tactic.

Forever Home (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Phil’s wanted a dog for as long as he can remember, and now that he and Dan are moving into their new house, it’s the perfect opportunity. But there’s just one problem: Phil’s allergic to dogs.

home (ao3) - Rawritsamehh

Summary: just a little drabblely thing

home wasn't built in a day (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: “Different, though,” Phil says. He sets the glass down, prisms of light cascading out around it, and then he presses firmly into Dan’s side and speaks with a thoughtful air of bone-deep certainty. “It feels real now. Like we’ve actually finally done it.”

Words lose their way somewhere between Dan’s brain and mouth and end up sticking in his throat. Phil rarely vocalizes his feelings, rarely draws on straightforward sincerity. But here he is, calm and settled at Dan’s side, unequivocally permanent.

“Even if half the lights and plumbing are out?” Dan asks eventually.

Phil’s laugh is soft and low in his chest. “Even if.”

It's Been Years (Thirteen) (ao3) - BLUEGREYKIM

Summary: It’s been years, Dan thinks. Twelve of them, by now. Thirteen, in October. They’re in their thirteenth year. God, he’s gotten older. Less than ten years to go before he’ll have known Phil for longer than he hasn’t.

late night talking (ao3) - theloveofbees

Summary: it surely wasn’t the weirdest thing phil had caught dan doing in their thirteen years of knowing each other, but it was up there.

or it's the summer before dan's tour and they talk on the floor of their office.

made for you (ao3) - BLUEGREYKIM

Summary: Phil, in all the years he's known Dan, can tell what he's thinking with a glance, a lock of eyes. Dan, in all the years he's known Phil, is the same.

aka the fic where they have a super psychic connection and insane communicative skills (real life)

New memories (ao3) - R3ad3r1

Summary: Phil looks at their new house with a hint of sadness. Dan fixes it in the most romantic way.

On The Balcony (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Whoever said moving to a forever home would be easy was lying.

Overheated (ao3) - kattdan

Summary: Phil's health issues

Returning home (ao3) - philsbignaturals

Summary: In which Dan returns to find a clingy Phil

Based on the selfie Dan took after returning from the European tour

Santa Buddy (ao3) - philsbignaturals

Summary: In which the boys host joint family Christmas in their forever home

Based on the Michael Bublé Santa Baby cover

summer skies (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Dan doesn’t think Phil's left the apartment, but he redials from his recent contacts all the same, listens to the ring for a few beats before he turns back, and there he is, curled sideways on his arm on the daybed, fast asleep in the shade.

(forever home, summer 2021)

Sutures (ao3) - jerseker

Summary: Phil returns to the forever home after a week away, just in time to pull Dan out of his negative thought spiral.

Taking a Break (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil has a broken leg.

unpacking forever (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Dan takes charge of the details, once they've moved in.

waking up in your arms with my mind on you and me (ao3) - natigail

Summary: On October 19th 2021, Phil wakes up first. Twelve years ago he woke up way too early, nervous for their first meeting and now they are waking up in their shared bed in their forever home. Phil allows himself to be a little sappy but it's okay because Dan easily joins him.

waking up to a dream (ao3) - vhslucky

Summary: "I missed you..." Phil mumbled against Dan's jacket, reveling in the familiarity of his smell. "I missed you more," Dan whispered warmly. Phil vehemently shook his head, "Not possible." Dan chuckled. Phil found that sound so sweet and endearing that he pulled him even closer.

with water out of sunlight (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: Whoever was last in the house has left all the doors open, and there’s light spilling down the hallway and making the white walls glow.

(Dan walks the forever home.)

[tekamoona]

Theory: The Eighth House, the Stoma & Nona the Ninth

"Don't you dare ask me what I thought of Colum Asht. I will weep."

Thanks for the reminder, Ianthe. I can't imagine Tamsyn brought in Colum for no reason other than 'he's a forgettable guy'. Now I have a loose theory to share!

Soul Siphoning & the Stoma

Colum Asht is specifically named by Ianthe because he's still a loose end. He wasn't in Harrow's dream bubble because his soul wasn't in the River. Something took over his body in the process of Silas vacating it for soul siphoning.

When Colum Asht's body is taken over, it's described as [...] Colum's eyeballs were gone — and now the sockets were mouths ringed with teeth, with little tongues slithering out of them. The tongue in his original mouth extended out, down, wrapping itself around her neck—

When the stoma opens, as Augustine tries to push John into it, it's described as [...] the tongues emerged. [...] Streamlike lingual tentacles emerged — the unassuming pink you got on normal, non-Hell-bound tongues. Generally, the tentacles are described as wrapping around Augustine and John, and pulling them towards the stoma.

There's a similar theme of tentacle-tongues grasping at people here. I'd hazard a guess that when Silas is sending Colum's soul away, it isn't just sent to the River, the soul is sent to the stoma, the mouth of Hell.

And this is corroborated by Augustine's dig at Mercymorn, the founder of the 8th: You never did take the stoma seriously, which is why your whole damned House sucks at it like a grotesque teat--

So it's probably not just that Colum's soul just happened to get swapped out with something from the stoma, but they intentionally send their battery-cav souls there.

Cristabel Oct

Now let's talk about the origin of soul siphoning. Mercymorn seems to have inspired this form of necromancy, given Augustine's comment.

If she practiced this with Cristabel during her time at Canaan House (which is likely, given that soul siphoning was one of the theorems Gideon and Harrow faced in GtN) — she must have sent Cristabel towards the stoma many times as her cav.

Something about Cristabel's description in the words of Augustine strikes interesting: A total delight. Effervescent. Kind to animals and children. A master of the sword. Did not have the intellect you'd ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange, and was a sickening twerp into the bargain.

Cristabel Oct sounds a lot like Nona.

Nona the Ninth & Alecto

But aren't we fairly certain at this point that Alecto was the person inhabiting Nona this entire time? The ending of Nona the Ninth seems to pretty much confirm this, so I don't think that Nona is necessarily Cristabel full stop.

So I wonder if Alecto was really in the body that entire time. After all, when John describes putting down A.L., he says: Annabel Lee... was not the dying kind [...] It might be more accurate to say that I switched her off.

What better way to displace Alecto's soul without outright killing her than sending it to the stoma, the same way Eighth House necromancers do? He'd have a great, vacuous cavalier from which to draw power... all the while still maintaining his lyctorhood, unlike other lyctors who don't have an empty body to siphon from.

And every time Cristabel was sent to the stoma during her and Mercymorn's lyctorhood research, while Alecto was 'switched off', Cristabel's soul could have mingled with Alecto's, in the same way that Naberius's soul touches Palamedes' when they occupy the same space as bodiless entities.

Cristabel's soul could've given Alecto all the traits with see in Nona that shouldn't reasonably be present in someone who has only been described as monstrous — Cristabel's love for animals and children, her delightful silliness.

As for how Alecto came to inhabit Nona, here we see the brilliance in Colum Asht's example. While his body was vacant, it gave opportunity for something else from the stoma to take his body over. That empty vessel was a house for a stoma-thing to move in.

There is a point between Harrow the Ninth and Nona the Ninth where Gideon is returned to her original body, but Harrow is not inhabiting her own body. At this point in time, Harrow's body is an empty vessel for something from the stoma to take over, and that's where Alecto comes in. It's not just a simple body-swap where Alecto and Harrow have swapped places.

In summary: Alecto, like the stoma-creature that took over Colum Asht's vacated body, took over Harrow's vacated body — and with Cristabel's virtuous traits having touched her soul, became Nona.

...

Footnote: Please let me know if I'm missing something. I haven't fully read the books in a while, just piecing interesting stuff together that seems to have coalesced now that I've finally read this short story.

[kerubimcrepin]

Episode 12 - The Great Glucid, Part 2

I don't know why, but this episode is very cute to me.

Kerubim being a baker is also just a bit emotionally charged to me, in a good way, — even if it is just a silly little episode.

It feels nice, that he engaged in a hobby that one wouldn't expect of him. This isn't exactly manly, monster-slaying adventurer stuff. And that's good! He should do things that make him happy and proud more!

It's also nice that he spent time with his mentor's grandchildren, considering Kerubim seems to adore kids. (Perhaps, that's one of the reasons he wants Joris to call him a grampy-cat, instead of a father? Because that was his first real experience with a functional family, as an orphan and a demigod?)

Very succulent and healthy energies all around, compared to his usual tales of violence and divorce and toxic friendships.

And, perhaps, at least in part, it's also nice because it's his cultural and familial heritage, as a person who grew up in Amakna?

It feels like we're exploring a part of Kerubim's identity that isn't something like "gambler, cheater, warrior, ORPHAN WITH A DEAD FAMILY who's only brother left HATES him, god's plaything, divorcee," and instead something more gentle, kinder, like "guy who likes babysitting," or "an Amaknean man in his natural environment (making baked goods)"

Like yes. He should be baking. Yugo, his fellow countryman, should also be baking. From both of their shows, we can see that Amaknean men are at their happiest when they're in the kitchen. So, chop-chop!

...We will see that despite trying really hard to hate one another, Atcham and Kerubim are... quite passionate about their family history and heritage. No wonder he became a baker.

*Wakfu: One More Gate is an unreliable source due to its plot being a dream, however, if it is based off things that really happened to Oropo during his youth, and considering the fact that, to my knowledge, the game's plot was changed into the dream thing during development, it would imply that the Crepin family has been selling things, especially weapons, for generations.

Yessss another dice moment.

Me @ fictional men I like.

He switches between holding two different weapons. BOOO tomato tomato tomato, how dare they have an animation error in their children's cartoon. (I'm joking.)

To reiterate, I really think we should talk more about Kerubim being good at baking and being really proud of it. (To the point of being a show-off, as he is with everything else he's good at.)

My headcanons of the day:

Kerubim is definitely the one who made the food in the beginning of the Julith movie.

I think Kerubim would learn how to make macarons without any machines involved, and give himself carpal tunnel and actual hand damage over it. Because he'd like the idea of being A Guy Who Can Make Macarons that much.

People in this house LOVE standing on tables and counters. Micromen. Manlets. Tinyguys.

On one hand,

On the other hand, he looks genuinely sad about what happened.

I suppose, considering this whole thinly-veiled-symbolism-for-addiction-played-for-funnies thing happened after this story, this might have been one of the last times Kerubim spent with his mentor while he was healthy.

And while it is only in my head, bc we here on this blog take this show way too fuckin' seriously: This guy might have been the first normal familial figure in his life, considering the whole Demigod/Orphan thing.

Aaand I just made myself sad.

Anyway, HURTING HIM.

[aajjks]

the ring!! it’s beautiful!! 🥹

mommy issues!JK

is this happening? is this really happening? you haven’t even been with jungkook for a YEAR and already..

“Yn will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

you’ve only been with jungkook for almost 10 months and he’s already on his knees ready to commit the rest of his life to you. jungkook is sure that there’s no other woman on this planet that could ever love him like you do; there’s no other woman he loves but you. you’re in his dreams, on his mind, he sleeps and breathes you and it may sound crazy but he wants you all to himself for the rest of his life.

you come from a home where love was the bare minimum and your heart was treated like tissue but then you met jungkook. you remember being so stubborn about being with him but look at you now. soon you’ll be a mother of two beautiful kids but there’s also something else you forgot, a wife.

the gold ring is gorgeous and the moment jungkook got down on his knee, you were already in tears. like jungkook, you can’t see yourself spending the rest of your life with anyone else but him. your friend, your lover, and now your fiancé.

“i do! i do, i do, i do” you cry as you pull jungkook into a hug before kissing him all over his face and finally, his lips. “i love you so much, jungkook. so that’s why you didn’t want me to go through your dresser. i thought you were hiding snacks or something” you laugh before kissing jungkook’s cheek again.

“ok, put it on already!” you say as you hold out your hand and watch jungkook slide the ring on your finger with ease. it’s a perfect fit.

“i love it. aww, i love you. i can’t stop saying i love you but i really do. this just…” you sigh in admiration as you watch the diamond twinkle and sparkle under the light of the chandelier.

“seol is staying the night at eunwoo’s right because you just earned yourself a mind blowing blowjob tonight” you say as you size jungkook up with a sly smile on your face. yep, you’re definitely fucking him after this.

the food jungkook ordered for you is so delicious, you even take a few bites from his plate and get a little jealous since his dish is better than yours but to keep that smile on your face, he switches his plate with yours: happy wife, happy life right?

“jungkook, can i ask you something? since i’m pregnant with a girl, she’s gonna need a lot of space. y’know? a big closet for her clothes, her crib and seol’s birthday is coming up soon so he’s gonna need more space for all his toys and his clothes and..uh…i wanna move”

“we don’t have to move out of busan. i want us to live in a house. doesn’t have to be a biiiiig house just a place with enough room for you, seol, and moon”

moon? as in…the baby? yes. you’ve been pondering on girl names for your little bun and you’re slowly taking a liking to the name moon but what does jungkook think?

~🫧

“Moon?”

When you tell him it’s the name you have decided for your baby girl, Jungkook smiles big, absolutely happy with the name choice.

“Of course she’s gonna be beautiful just like the moon.” Jungkook focuses on his food, he’s been starving and couldn’t get himself to eat something because he was so nervous about the proposal, but as he is seeing the beautiful ring on your finger?

“You know I took your ring finger size in your sleep… it was such a hassle but it fits perfectly.” He winks

He feels like he’s complete. “Of course yn.. I was thinking about this as well now that our family is expanding… I have been looking over to some houses… I have saved a lot of money.. there is a separate account for you and for Seol in case something happens to me… I’ve started another one for our daughter… money is definitely not an issue because the job pays a lot… and maybe I’ll take you with me soon to look over some houses and you’ll select which one you like the best..” he coos.

You look so perfect, he cannot take his eyes off of you and whenever he looks at you? He just feels more hungry.

“Yn.. I never thought I would find love… I thought it was impossible.. but then I saw you…”

“To you maybe I’m moving too fast but I’ve been in love with you for the past three years… I fell in love with you at first sight.” He confesses, looking deeply into your eyes.

You’re his everything, you have completed him in ways he didn’t know it was possible.. “I hope that… you will always treat Seol like your own too-I know you do that but he’s really precious to me.” He asks, being honest.

•••

The night is still young but after dinner he takes you straight home, he’s so happy and horny, it’s been WEEKS since you have let him touch you, but tonight- you can’t escape.

The ride is full of sexual tension between you two, his hand constantly moving up and down between your thighs, sometimes it rests on your belly as he drives with one hand.

“Do you have any fucking idea how much sexier you’ve looked ever since I knocked you up?” His language is definitely different, he feels so energized right now, it’s going to be a long night for the both of you.

His have travels down from your stomach to your leg, teasing your skin. The truth is that he wants to fuck you fast and hard, but you’re pregnant so he will have to be slow and gentle.

“I can’t stop staring at your tits- and your ass. Goodness you look so fuckin perfect yn.” He exchanges a look with you, his eyes burning with desire.

“If you weren’t already pregnant I’d breed you so hard… fuck… you have no idea what you do to me..” he bites his lip, trying his best to focus on the road ahead.

“We’re almost home baby and tonight? You won’t be able to escape me.”

He’s feeling absolutely carnal. His body hot with lust.

[justkeepwalkingnothinghere]

So…tomorrow will mark one full month since Watching and Dreaming. One month since The Owl House came to an end. It’s kind of hard to believe. I haven’t had the mental energy to rewatch it or watch anything else since. It feels like I’m dealing with all 5 stages of grief at once, but to be frank I’ve been stuck in a mix of denial, acceptance and bargaining since it aired. I’m accepting of the fact that it’s over, completely denying the fact that it’s over, and willing to bargain with the universe for anything else from this show. Been holding onto any little sliver of hope that it’s gonna come back soon, when I know that’s likely not gonna happen in a very long time.

I remember April 8th like it was yesterday, so I figured I should recount it for everyone. Story under the cut.

My mom and I had spent the previous couple of days at my grandparents house watching their dog Charlie, something we’ve done a few dozen times already. We were leaving that morning as soon as my dad came to pick us up, and I woke up hoping to feel as I did the previous day, looking forward to the finale and genuinely happy about it for the first time, without any fear. As expected, I knew the feeling and happiness wasn’t gonna last, all excitement quickly replaced by fear once again as it dawned on me what day it was. I started watching the show in mid September and now was going to witness it end a mere couple of hours after sunset. My thoughts about it all danced and jumped through my head all day, the day going by a bit faster than I had wanted it to. The only constant emotions were anxiety, fear, and I could feel myself slipping into depression already.

As the hours ticked by and we got closer to saying farewell, the realization of what was happening continued to nag at me and make my anxiety worse. My parents were both going to my aunt and uncle’s wedding, a very small ceremony and reception in their backyard. And an adults only affair, meaning I would be home alone. Was only at the 5 o’clock hour, only a few more until the finale when they left. First thing I did? Listened to Lacrimosa on the tv for roughly 30 minutes while scrolling through here, the subreddit, and chatting on Discord while getting emotional with friends. I made one last post before the finale, and switched to It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday. Looped a few times before switching to YouTube and watching for a little over an hour.

Until I found this goodbye video in my recommended. Set to the chorus of As the World Caves In. It was a little over 5 minutes until the finale (was airing at 8:25 in my timezone) when I found it, and I rewatched it multiple times, learning the words quickly. I replayed it one more time with a full minute left until the end, singing along to it in the final 30 or so seconds until the finale finally aired. I was saving the Watching and Dreaming for the next morning, when my parents and I could watch it with our Easter breakfast, not wanting to be up all night crying and getting emotional. I proceeded to listen to the full song on loop for about 30-40 minutes straight, getting lost in thought, singing along with all I had, even breaking into tears at one point, wanting nothing more than a comforting hug from Luz.

The episode was halfway over from my calculations when I heated up my Stouffer’s meatloaf, and then vented and chatted with this little guy as we kept each other company and ate our meals. I let it all out to some pixels on the screen, relieving some stress. A mini chocolate bundt cake, episodes of 30 Rock and glyph doodles followed in the last hour or so before my parents got home. Somewhere during that, I swear I could feel a slight pang in my heart, a signal that it was done. The finale was over, and it took Owl House with it. With everything cleaned up downstairs and my parents in bed, I ended the night by having one last mental breakdown to Caramelldansen, my bedroom light turned off, and my phone brightness all the way up. I turned in for the night with a final sigh, and the knowledge that tomorrow morning, my favorite show would slip away from me.

The most emotional night of my life in recent memory and I remember every detail as if it was just last night. As the World Caves In now acts as a reminder of what went down whenever I listen to it. In the midst of it all, the only emotions that stayed with me was the fear and depression. I knew what was happening, I knew what I would be experiencing the next morning, and I still have yet to rewatch it. I can’t even watch the ending or epilogue without having my heart ache for half an hour or more. A fantastic finale? Absolutely! But a heartbreaking loss that is going to take me forever to recover from? Also yes. My heart wasn’t ready for it then, it’s not ready for it now, and it’s not gonna be ready for it anytime soon.

(I know a lot of people aren’t going to care about this, I just wanted to share how that night was for me)

[petitedeath]

I usually have really vivid dreams. Most of the time I forget them a few minutes after waking up. But sometimes they stick with me and I have to get them out. So I'm going to start posting them as they happen. I'm not a writer tho and I suck at grammar so sorry if you read this lol

Here is last night's:

It was a Thursday night no different from any other. We were sunken into our cozy red couch half watching Love Is Blind and half watching tiktoks on our phones and eating chips. It was probably about 11:30 pm and we were doing the typical stall before deciding to get up and go to bed. The loud rumbling roar of a military transport plane entered the air outside. This was not unusual, we lived near the base after all. When our son was smaller he used to affectionately call them the whales of the sky on account of how enormous and gray they were. A handful each day would fly low along the side of our house getting ready to land and we could watch them from our couch through the window that sat to the left of our couch. But this plane was going the wrong direction.

A glint of light caught my eye and I glanced up to the right at the bay window that sat at the center front of our living room. I could see the plane crossing the front of our home, its light moving erratically through the blinds like a floating firefly. I stood up and walked over to get a better look. The plane’s nose was going up and down in a wave pattern like a dolphin swimming. Something was definitely wrong. Jon sensed my unease and got up to look at it too. The plane was now just at the corner of our window almost out of view when on the last upward motion it pulled back far, becoming vertical and stalled. We rushed outside expecting a plane crash and trying to assess whether we needed to help get our elderly neighbors out of their house. The plane was now over our driveway and our neighbors and was starting to fall backward onto its back. As it did the plane started to morph.

The plane maintained altitude, hovering as it widened and flattened out. It looked almost like a sea creature with skin like a tuna now, but still dark gray. Slits appeared on the bottom like little vents and it vibrated and hummed emitting thin golden waves spinning like thin shimmering ribbons evaporating into the air. We quickly went back inside trying to process what we had just seen. It was too much for our brains to process though, so we switched to something easier to latch on to and started grabbing our earthquake emergency supplies and went to wake up our kid. I told Jon we needed to leave. I had no idea what was even happening but the animal-like fear building inside of my gut was telling me we needed to get away from this thing as fast as possible. Jon hesitated, worrying that we would become a target in the car, like a little bug in the middle of a big open sidewalk. He didn’t put up much fight though when I asked him what else we should do as it felt like we were already under a giant humming shoe.

We gathered our backpacks and grabbed some food before bursting out the back door to head for our car. But we were stopped in our tracks. Our kid slammed into the back of us not expecting the abrupt stop and not seeing what lay before us causing the halt. It was our car, what was left of it. The whole car was just a mangled sunken mess of fused metal, black and unrecognizable. The whole care had melted down. All cars had. We looked around to see that every car around was now no more than a 2-foot-tall mess of fused materials.

We pushed back inside to try and plot our next steps but I could feel myself having a panic attack. My hands were going numb, I was starting to feel lightheaded, and I couldn’t control my breath. My thoughts were going everywhere, and nothing was sticking. Jon grabbed my hand, momentarily grounding me. I didn’t have time for a panic attack, we had to make our next move. I looked out the window and tried to think. The room darkened. It wasn’t the outdoors though; it was the walls. They were darkening with a strange pattern similar to those internal burns you get from having a heating pad on your lap for too long. I started to feel a radiating warmth come from inside of myself and my skin started to tighten. Without a word I grabbed my son's hand and Jon and I ripped through the front door and just started running.

We had no plan, no idea what was happening, no direction, nothing. We just ran as fast as we could away from this thing. We slowed as our breath started to thin and our chests started to ache. We hadn’t gotten terribly far but were now several blocks away in the neighboring neighborhood. The homes were large and old and close to each other. It had been a wealthy neighborhood in the late 1800s and early 1900s and each home was 3 stories plus a basement. As we walked aimlessly catching our breathes eyes pointed down my eye caught the reflection of a basement window. The closest thing to a plan clicked in my mind, we needed to get into a basement.

We spun around slowly looking at all the enormous houses and considering which one would be the easiest to get into and the sturdiest. We spotted a big blue one with white trim on a corner. It was an Edwardian home, large and square with the concrete of a basement poking up just above the grass with tiny windows.

We entered the house with relative ease and the place seemed empty. Normally I would have taken this time to explore the old home and look for supplies but was in no mood. We quickly rounded the kitchen corner to the door to the basement, shut the door behind us and scurried down the stairs. When we got to the bottom we looked up to realize that we weren’t alone. A mixture of about 10 or so other neighbors were also finding refuge in the concrete room. A couple small families and individuals and then the guy who must have been the homeowner as he looked the most uncomfortable. He was about 50, and was wearing brown slacks with a light blue button up shirt and brown round rimmed glasses. His hair was brown with a smattering of grey and was styled into thick tidy waves. Around his pursed lips that he kept chewing was a goatee.

He apparently was some sort of researcher or professor that worked at the university in their animal and plant department. I had been there on one of their public activity days and enjoyed the wet specimens and the stages of plant development they had on display. He seemed nervous about something beyond the unknowable horror we were all living out in real time. It appeared he had OCD, and we were all making him uncomfortable by invading his space. Though cold and uncomfortable he was hospitable so long as we followed his rules and respected his space.

A couple hours had passed quietly as we sat in the basement and we had settled down enough to chat and instinctively try to look at our phones. Surprisingly, considering the cars, the phones still worked…well…sort of. They were still on and the screens still worked but they were stuck on the last screen we were looking at. It didn’t seem to matter though. Who were we going to call? Who could even handle this? Besides, we all had this feeling that this was not simply a local phenomenon.

We could see a bright light in the distance moving across the houses several blocks away. I noticed that our host was frozen where he stood. I could practically feel the cold sweat coming off him myself. After a few seconds passed he shouted, “on your bellies! Cover your faces!”

We didn’t ask questions, we just did it. The basement floor of unfinished cement was cold against my belly as I lay with my face tucked in my elbows like a kid playing heads up seven up. I could sense the light getting closer, scanning up and down as it got nearer to us. Finally, it reached our block. The light was incredible and white. Even with my eyes shut tightly and shoved in my elbows I could tell that the room was lit up like an apple store though the light wasn’t directly on us yet. I know this, because when it was finally in our house it was blinding. It was so bright that I could see the bones of my arms through my eyelids and my skin. A truly haunting sensation.

The light passed and it took a while before anyone felt comfortable lifting their heads to look around. We all sat in silence contemplating what we had just experienced. No one was ready to speak. Everyone sat eyes pointed down thinking about their life and their inevitable death. The light would continue to come, sweeping the neighborhoods, scanning our block every 5 to 10 minutes. How long could we keep this up? I was starting to get a sinking feeling in my gut. This was it. We were just stalling the inevitable.

I heard one of the couples near me speaking to each other, faces still on the cold cement. One of their voices whispered in defeat, “This is it. They have decided this is enough. We are a cancer on this earth and they are wiping us out with radiation. They’re killing us like cancer cells.”

Another white light came and lingered. Heat radiated through me…. And then I woke up.