#THEY HAVE BEEN IN LOVE FOR A THOUSAND YEARS

[tojisbbg]

gang baby

❝she told you she celibate, but she told me i can nail her shit!❞

♡ sylus, caleb, rafayel, zayne, xavier ♡

sypnosis: you're just a girl. yeah, you can't decide between five hot LI's presented to you in the popular otome game, love and deepspace, but that's okay. who said you can't have them all? literally.

wc: 11k (lots of smut beware)

a/n: valentines day special!! guys, don't question it, ok? i wrote this with my whole pussy. ok bai. (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: all lads LI's x fem!reader (yes, you read right), gangbang, slight plot, reader gets transported in lads universe, smut (no details, find out hehe), all acts are consensual, not edited. disclaimer: not based off tomorrow's catch-22!!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"fuck!" you yelled out in frustration, chucking your phone off your bed as the poor device fell on the floor with a loud thud. you could hear your best friend giggling from your laptop, making you shoot her a sharp glare.

"shut up." you sneer, but it only fueled her laughter more.

"damn, infold really hates you, bro." she pokes further at your miserable failure, making your shoulders slump in defeat as you grumble.

"i can't believe it. i've been grinding for two months straight to save up fifteen thousand diamonds for the valentines day banner! i was sure i'd pull them all, and you're telling me i only got two out of the five?? this is a fucking joke." you ranted, making your friend hum as she understood your anger.

"yeah, i'd be mad as hell too. but hey, at least you got sylus and caleb. just watch the rest on twitter or something." your best friend tried to comfort you, but it only made you pout.

"but i want them all." you sulked, making her roll her eyes.

"you're such a whore." she sighed, making you grin.

"duh, why choose one when i can have them all." you nonchalantly responded.

"yeah, yeah, forgot you had no shame." she shook her head in disbelief.

"man, i don't know what else to do. i literally milked the game dry, there's no other way i can get more diamonds for more pulls before the event ends. this is so unfair." you whined, fingers tangled in your hair.

"you can always-"

"no. i'm not giving those greedy hoes my money." you cut off her suggestion, your tone stern.

you were a poor college student who worked part-time at a stationery supply store (living the aesthetic life while crying over classes and fictional men); money's tight, and you're not about to spend hundreds on this because you know it'd become a horrible habit sooner or later.

despite being broke, your spending habits were outrageous.

"yeah girl, then i don't know what to tell ya. i'm chilling with my rafayel card. oh shit, it's almost three in the morning, bitch. we have class tomorrow, go to sleep." she yawned tiredly.

"you're leaving me just like that? after i went through so much pain and trauma? is this how deep our ten years of friendship runs? just say you hate me and want me to die a slow painful death." you dramatically rambled, making your best friend rub her temple in faux annoyance as she groaned at your stupidity.

"when i see you tomorrow, i'm gonna slap you. goodnight, hoe." with that, she hung up.

you closed the lid of your laptop and placed it on charge, stretching before standing up to go pick up your phone. you noticed the small cracks on your screen as you walked back to your bed.

you unlocked your phone, noticing how the lads server kicked you out. you exited the app, clicking on it again as you were met with caleb's face.

so l-long for longe-ge-... before fa-fa...dust

so long for-for-.... fading-fa..-dus..

so-so...lo...ng-..fading...

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the app glitch horribly, the audio was choppy and produced crackling noises. the graphics were disoriented and there was a pop-up notification saying you needed to upgrade your memory.

you could feel your irritation rise once again, getting tired of this shit as you decided to deal with it tomorrow or something. however, every time you tried to exit the app, it wouldn't let you.

your phone literally froze.

"great. just fucking great." you sarcastically murmured.

not only did you not get the limited cards you wanted, you were broke (in the real world and in lads), you're screwed for your morning classes and your phone is currently on its last breath.

also, you were hungry as fuck right now, craving for some five guys.

"fuck this." you sighed in defeat, settling your phone next to you before laying down to sleep. you figured that eventually your phone would turn off once the battery died, so until then you just turned to the other side and ignored the device.

soon enough, fatigue took over your body as you were slipping away into a deep slumber.

unaware, your phone screen turned off momentarily, before flickering on once again as the screen crackled and glitched before stopping.

data retrieval complete, memory upgrade...

successful.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred in your sleep, eyebrows pinched together as you felt a cold breeze run across the bare skin of your thighs and arms.

nonetheless, you don't remember leaving your window open, it was the middle of february. you groaned, eyes still shut tight as your hand reached down, trying to locate your blanket.

"comfortable, sweetie?" you heard an oddly familiar, deep voice suddenly speak.

did someone break into your house? and why the hell did your mattress feel so hard and cold?

your eyes shot open, adjusting your blurry vision as you realized you were not in your bedroom. you were laying on the cold, dirt ground and it made you panic.

you helplessly sat up and noticed the long pair of legs in front of your body, making you look up as you saw the towering figure of a man. the night sky was dark, making it hard for you to make out his face.

"who are you? and what the hell am i doing out here?" you asked, but your voice barely came out as a whisper.

a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, before he bent down to come eye-level with you. as soon as you met the bright, ruby red orbs of his foxy eyes; your jaw dropped in horror.

no. fucking. way.

"shouldn't i be the one asking you those questions, sweetie?" sylus smirked, head tilting as he keenly watched your facial expressions.

"you're not real. i'm dreaming, yeah, just a dream that feels too real." you blurt out, a breathy laugh scratching your dry throat, trying to calm yourself from freaking out as your heart leaped to your chest when he directly looked at you.

"a dream, you say? hmph, you're a strange one." he shook his head before grabbing your wrist, bringing your palm to his lips. the warmth of his rough hands, which were definitely double the size of yours, made you shiver due to the contrast of your cold ones. he bit the side of your palm before gently sucking on it, making you jolt from the sudden sensation.

sylus watched you with pure amusement glinting in his eyes.

"you're like a scared little kitten, so expressive." sylus commented, making you swallow harshly.

well, this definitely was not a dream, thanks to sylus's help for that confirmation.

but the question was.... how the hell did you end up here?

suddenly, there was rustling in the distance, making his eyes twitch as he became alert. sylus slightly shifted closer to you, now scanning the area for the intruder.

"miss bodyguard?" with a dramatic gasp, you heard rushed footsteps approach you. it was hard to miss the hues of indigo, pinks and blues in his eyes along with the striking dusky purple hair that was a little more visible thanks to the moonlight.

"r...rafayel?" it felt odd saying his name out loud, it almost made you feel a little schizophrenic.

just a bit.

"duh, who else would it be? what are you doing here in the N-109 zone at this hour. also, the hell are you wearing? so not creative or fashionable." rafayel questioned, of course, not forgetting to throw in his snarky little insults along with it.

"what's wrong with what i'm wearing?" you glared at him.

"it's the middle of february and you're dressed like it's a hundred degrees outside." the lemurian smirked down at you.

you cursed at yourself for going to bed in shorts and a thin shirt. well, to be fair, it's a cute snoopy set. also, who in the hell could've predicted this to happen!?

"she wanted to have a little sleepover with the wanderers that lurk around here." the dragon teased, making your face heat up.

"i did not." you mumbled under your breath.

"uh-huh, you're not really in the position to defend that claim." rafayel egged further.

"whatever, what are you doing here? you usually don't go out of your way to come to the N-109 zone." you tried to change the subject, remembering from his anecdotes that he usually has third party people as his "networks" to gain intel.

"just some business you shouldn't sweat your pretty little head over, cutie. but, you know, we should really talk about what your business is with the leader of onychinus." he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes flickering between you and sylus.

"it's nothing, uh, i don't even know him." you chuckled nervously, making sylus look at you with a sharp look.

"is that so, kitten? you wound me. and here i thought we had something more than just... acquaintances. i guess those nights of naughty touches, kisses and naked glances mean nothing to you, right?" sylus shamelessly bullet-pointed, his tone dropping an octave lower as your cheeks grew warm.

on the other hand, rafayel's eyes widened at the revelation.

"you fucked the leader of onychinus?! woah, woah, woah, pause. what about everything that happened between us?? we had sex in my bathtub, the hotel and don't forget-" he was flabbergasted, only to be cut off by sylus.

"you were messing around with this half-baked fish, sweetie? i'm disappointed in your taste. if you planned on two-timing, you could've selected a better opponent for me. this is just... offensive." he snarked, his red eyes beaming with irritation as he looked at rafayel, who's face grew dark from his brash words.

"what did you say to me, you fucking crow? half-baked fish? i'm the god of tides, a majestic lemurian. you dare to speak to me like that?" rafayel's voice became husky, languid footsteps towards the other man.

"h-hey, hey, let's all calm down. there's a very logical and reasonable explanation, i swear." you tried to mediate between them, but it didn't seem like they planned on giving a flying shit about what you had to say any time soon.

"y/n? there you are. i've been blowin' up your phone for hours. thought a wanderer got to you and i got worried about how i'd pay the rent by myself." xavier walked from the shadows, his words laced with a gentle joke as he approached you and the other two men.

holy fuck, this was not good.

"and who are you guys?" the ash-blonde male asked, eyes narrowing before looking down at you.

"xavier." you meeked, not even knowing what to say anymore.

"why are you seeing other guys, y/n? am i not enough? you know i don't like it when you hide things from me. i thought you learned your lesson after i punished you for choosing lumiere over me." xavier now towered over you, his voice laced with envy as you gulped.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

"xavier, i promise i can explain. this is all just a-" you tried to somehow pull an excuse out of your ass, but your brain was fogging up.

"pipsqueak?"

"y/n? what an odd place to be at during such an odd hour, you left your patient copy in my office."

two other figures emerged from the sides, making your eyes close in disbelief, wishing that you could somehow disappear from the face of earth right now.

why the fuck are they all here.

at the same time.

"you've got to be kidding me." you covered your face with the palm of your hands.

"caleb? i thought you were dead." zayne spoke in a monotone, glancing at his childhood friend.

"wow, i missed you too, zayne." caleb rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. however, the small spark of tension barely lasted before caleb looked back at you.

"care to explain why you're in such a dangerous zone at this time? you know you can't hide from me, pipsqueak. what connections do you have here? who are you seeing? was locking you up in the attic not enough for you?" caleb lectured, his voice gruff before zayne decided to add on to the fire.

"you're utterly reckless, your heart condition isn't getting any better." zayned pushed the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

all five on them now circled you, bickering and arguing with each other along with bombarding you with questions. you balled your fists in annoyance and frustration.

"shut up! oh my fucking god, i don't know, okay?! i don't know how i ended up here, so stop asking me. fuckin' hell, i can't even get a moment to breathe or think because all of you little shits won't shut up for a second!" you snapped as you stood up, making all of them look at you with surprised eyes.

you gulped, feeling a little cornered as you have five insanely tall, broad and buff men look down at you; like helpless prey.

caleb was the first person to break the momentary silence, grabbing your arm to pull you towards him.

"let's go home, pipsqueak. i'll cook your favorite tonight since it's valentines day." he smiled, only for your other arm to be tugged backwards as you yelped.

"home? her home is with me, we're roommates. i think you got the wrong person." xavier calmly replied, but his words were laced with venom.

"she's going nowhere with either of you. she's my bodyguard and i need her to come back with me to my studio. y'know, in case some scary wanderers are lurkin' around." rafayel pushed xavier to the side, intertwining his fingers with yours before giving you a charming smile as he attempted to walk off; only to bump into someone.

"i don't think so. she's been out here for so long, i might need to give her an exam to make sure she's okay." zayne cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you felt like you were the rope being tugged in tug-of-war. sylus deeply sighed at the situation and before you knew it; in one smooth swoop you were now in the strong arms of the leader of onychinus.

"what fools. she's in the N-109 zone for a reason. for me, of course. come on, sweetie, you must be freezing. let's go inside." sylus look down at you with a gentle smile playing on his lips.

you groaned, squirming out of his hold as sylus let you, watching you get back on your feet.

"this is ridiculous! you all are acting like a bunch of kids, fighting over me like i'm some kind of toy. none of you own me!" you stood your ground.

"fine, then why don't you choose?" sylus scoffed, crossing his arms. you grew quiet, looking at each of them before averting your gaze to the ground.

"i... i can't." you whispered.

"you can't? or you don't want to?" xavier snickered.

"you're the one who's been toying with us. we deserve an explanation, no?" rafayel grinned.

"explanations are too time-consuming, actions speak louder than words. so, how are you gonna fix it, y/n?" hazel eyes peered at you with intensity through the glass lenses.

oh, you're so fucked.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

everything happened so fast, you didn't know who swiped your panties off or unclasped your bra.

you felt betrayed at how they evilly plotted against you, telepathically agreeing to punish you for your unfaithfulness. what happened to hating each other? so, here you were now, splayed on the soft mattress in sylus's room; like art on a display.

they drank in the sight of you, perky tits spilled out as the smooth glaze of your skin glimmered under the dim lighting of the room. their eyes were full of hunger, eye-fucking you as you grew shy under their intense gazes.

"s-stop staring at me like that." you whined, looking away as your face reddened at the attention.

you felt someone stroking your thighs, making you shudder as you looked in front of you, seeing caleb gripping the supple fat of your plush thighs.

"never knew you were such a dirty little slut, princess. all these years of knowing you... and to think you were capable of this? how naughty." caleb smirked, prying your thighs open as you gasped.

but, your lips would soon be sealed with zaynes as he kissed you roughly. his pillow-soft lips molded with yours, the smacking sound of saliva filled the room. a big, veiny hand came up to cup your cheek gently as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, licking the wet muscle before sucking it.

caleb used his thumb to spread your soaked folds apart, watching the lewd string of your arousal connect them both. your clit was puffy from being neglected, a sheen of wetness covering your cunt; making his mouth salivate. he leaned down, mouth hovering above your pussy.

"fuckin' beautiful." caleb swore under his breath, the warm air fanning above your aching cunt, giving you goosebumps. you moaned into zayne's mouth, feeling caleb's warm and wet tongue lick a fat stripe up your cunt.

"hope you didn't forget about us, cutie." rafayel pouted, licking at your nipple before wrapping his lips on the swollen pebble. sylus soon followed his footsteps, greedily kneading at your other tit before leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses on the soft mound.

meanwhile, xavier's lips were buried in your neck as he punished you with licks and bites on the expanse of your unmarked flesh.

"ngh~ xavier!" you whimpered against zayne's lips, the doctor now nibbling on your bottom lip.

he licked the side of your neck before softly clamping his teeth down, suckling and leaving a purplish bruise. as a soothing apology, xavier kitten-licked the fresh mark before moving down to your collarbone with wet kisses.

caleb continued to lap at your wet cunt, his saliva mixed with your juices dripped down his chin. the tip of his tongue circled your clit before suckling on it, making your legs tremble as a moan ripped out of your throat as you tried to close your legs.

"f-fuck.. hnghh.." you cried out, feeling him plant his palms on your inner thighs, forcing you to keep them open. caleb peered up at you from between your thighs, amethyst eyes glaring at you as his lips were glossy.

"don't interrupt me when i'm eating." he huskily spoke before slapping your dripping pussy, producing a wet 'pap!' noise. you yelped because of your increased sensitivity, not having enough time to recover before he dove back in.

with one last wet smooch, zayne released your lips before crawling down right next to his childhood friend. they exchanged a quick look, a mischievous smirk dancing on the colonel's lips.

"oh? was my tongue not enough for you, princess?" he lowly spoke, pinching your inner thigh as you bit your bottom lips.

"ahh... need z-zayne to help... please?" you begged, making him scoff. zayne couldn't help but grin with pride, your words stroking his ego a little.

"you heard her, move." zayne pushed caleb a little to squeeze himself between your legs, taking off his glasses before throwing them to the side. caleb, utterly betrayed, seethed with jealousy.

"so that's how you wanna play? fine." caleb accepted it as a challenge, but of course, he won't let neither of you get the last word.

zayne ignored his little childish outburst, digging in as his scarred hands rested on your lower stomach before his fingers stroked the expanse of it, gently moving to the side to hold your hips; caressing your smooth skin while tracing the faint stretch marks decorating it.

your puffy clit peaked out of your wet slit, making zayne lean down to press a wet smooch on it. you shuddered, mouth gaping open as your breathing quickened. zayne dragged his tongue up your sopping folds slow and languidly, the tip of his tongue digging into your wet pussy. the difference in how zayne and caleb ate you out was clear. caleb liked to eat your honeyed cunt like a starved dog, as if it was his last meal; unlike zayne, who liked to take his time and savor the taste of your sweet cunt.

"mhmmm.... zaynee~" you slurred his name, drunk in pleasure as he took his time to lap at your pussy, suckling and nibbling on your clit. amethyst eyes bore into the back of zayne's head, fuming with anger and envy.

caleb's fingers dug into your thighs, making you wince in pain but soon it deliciously simmered into the pleasure you were getting from zayne's tongue. the colonel snickered, watching how slick your pussy was from saliva and your juices, deciding to toy with you as revenge.

you felt the pads of caleb's middle and ring finger brush against your hole, probing the tight opening. you groan, feeling him push in both fingers at once.

"c-caleb!" you stuttered out, feeling him scissor his fingers in and out of your tight hole; the thickness and length of his digits rubbing you in all the right places.

suddenly, xavier roughly grabbed your jaw, squishing your chubby cheeks in his hands; forcing you to look at him. the expression on his face was dark, eyes clouded with lust and possessiveness.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself, dirty girl. you like having four other guys touch you, hm? this mouth is fucking filthy, maybe i should clean it, yeah?" he smirked, blue eyes sharply peering down at you.

"x-xav.." you were cut off by his grip tightening just a little more, making you wince.

"shhh... not another word, my dumb little girl. now i just wanna hear you gagging on my cock, 'kay?" xavier unbuckled his belt before unzipping his pants. he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, making his hard cock spring against his abs, your eyes widening at the sight.

his dick didn't have a lot of girth, but fuck it was long. xavier tapped the blush pink tip of his leaky cock on your lips, spreading his precum all over them like it was your own personal gloss. his thumb rested on your chin before pulling it down, forcing your mouth to open as he slid his cock in; the ash-blonde male let out a shaky sigh.

both sylus and rafayel continued to paw at your tits, biting and sucking on your nipples. with a lewd 'pop!', they released your swollen bud, eyeing their shared masterpiece as your tits were littered with hickies and trails of saliva.

"why don't you return the favor, sweetie? these cute little hands of yours seem empty." sylus gives you a toothy grin, bringing your hand to the tent forming on his pants, making you palm him through them. a deep groan escaped his lips as your hand stroked him through the rough fabric of his leather pants.

rafayel now sat on his knees by your other side, grabbing your wrist before bringing it up to his lips. he kissed the soft, warm flesh of your wrist; inhaling the scent of your skin as he let out a moan.

"you smell so fucking good. god, it's driving me insane." he breathed out, licking your pulse point before gently biting down on it. rafayel continued to sniff and kiss your wrist, using his other free hand to undo his pants and pull his aching cock out; stroking it as it throbbed in his palms. he teased his slit, spreading the sticky precum all over the tip.

your eager hands fumbled with sylus's belt as you tried to undo it, a little difficult because your mouth was still full of xavier's cock and forced you to maintain eye contact with him; as if looking at anyone else in this room would make his existence perish. but, sylus decided to be kind enough and help you because who is he to deny you?

you dug your hand inside his boxers, eyes widening as you realized that you couldn't even fully grasp his dick. he was fucking hung, thick and long, not lacking in any area. a guttural moan escaped his lips, feeling your soft fingers caressing his balls.

you took out his cock from the confinement of his boxers, stroking the shaft of it as your fingers teased the throbbing vein that ran on the underside curve of his dick. sylus threw his head back in pleasure, a soft whimper heard as his chest heaved.

"feels so fuckin' good, sweetie." he praised, your hand still lazily moving up and down his thick meat.

you felt the tip of zayne's nose nudging your clit, providing more stimulation as he continued his assault on your sopping wet cunt; his tongue flicking at a leisurely pace between your folds. caleb matched the rhythm of zayne's tongue, finger-fucking you with deep and hard strokes.

your moans were muffled by xavier's cock as he drove his hips into your mouth; your cheeks hollowing as you tried to not graze the skin of his dick with your teeth. you could hear the soft grunts and whimpers falling from his lips, eyes closed in bliss as he still had your cheeks firmly squished between his fingers.

"fuck yeah... you were made for this, takin' my cock so well." xavier breathed out, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head closer.

you could feel the pressure of zaynes tongue slurping your clit along with caleb's fingers abusing your cervix collide. the familiar knot began to settle in your lower stomach, making your thighs tremble as your eyes screwed shut, toes curling in pleasure.

caleb could feel your walls contracting, you were definitely close and as much as he would love to see you cream all over his fingers; you've been cruelly unfair to him.

xavier lazily opened his eyes, cerulean orbs looking down at you half-lidded. he scoffed, watching your face flush as saliva trickled down the corner of your mouth. you opened your eyes briefly, he watched as they rolled back from the pleasure you were recieving from your childhood friends.

he pulled his cock out of your mouth, glaring down at you.

"nghhh~ p-please..!" you mumbled against his tip, crying out in pleasure as you tried to kick your leg forward to get away from the two men ravaging your pussy. however, both caleb and zayne pinned your legs down.

"focus on me." xavier scowled, and in one swift and hard thrust, his cock slid down your throat as far as you could take him. your eyes blew wide open, as you gagged on his dick. he was being nice earlier, but now you really pissed him off.

you had the nerve to think about those two when he was being kind enough to rinse that dirty mouth of yours with his cock?

"fuckin' ungrateful brat, ignoring me when i'm stuffing this filthy mouth full of my dick." he panted, fucking your face as tears streamed down your face and drool dripped down your chin.

zayne and caleb continued their combined attack, making you scream as your felt zayne sucking on your clit harder while caleb's fingers continued to rub against your walls at a faster pace.

suddenly, all sensation was lost as caleb pulled out his fingers while simultaneously grabbing onto the back of zayne's head with his free hand; yanking his hair back to unlatch his mouth from your weeping cunt. your eyes widened as tears streamed down your face, your hole pulsating at the feeling of nothing.

"only good girls get to cum." caleb darkly chuckled, zayne wincing in slight pain as he swatted the hand that yanked his hair.

"do that again and i'll fucking kill you." zayne murmured, making caleb roll his eyes.

"mmphh...!" your cries were muffled as xavier continued to use your throat as his personal fuckhole. he continued to shove his dick deeper, a small bulge forming on your throat as he pressed against it.

"there we go." xavier grinned sadistically, continuing to chase his high.

"h-hahhh... fuck, gonna cum." he panted, face flushing as he threw his head back, driving his hips forward. you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you towards his lower stomach; shoving his cock deep in your throat one last time as your nose was buried in his soft pubes.

"shit.. shit- hnghh... take it- fuck, take it all." xavier moaned, his thick cum painting your throat as he came so much. your mouth became overloaded with his cum, leaking through the corner of your lips as you tried to swallow as much as you could. he pulled out, watching your gasp for air as you coughed.

"what do you say, slut?" he darkly asked.

"t-thank you." you breathed out, voice croaking.

"good girl." xavier smiled wickedly, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb, your tongue peeking out to lick it.

with the intense throat-fucking session with xavier and the cruel denial of your orgasm, you forgot about sylus who was still painfully hard in your hand.

"come on, sweetie, i know you could do better. want some help? yes, no, maybe so?" sylus whispered huskily, leaning down to bite your ear before kissing your temple.

"s-sorry.." you sniffled, still extremely sensitive.

"poor baby, don't cry. i'll help you." he cooed, grabbing your hand before spitting on it. the warm feeling of his spit made you shiver, he brought your hand to his cock; guiding you as you used your spit coated hand to grab his dick again.

this time, his hand firmly stayed on yours, tightening the grip. the silver haired male moaned, moving your joined hands up and down his throbbing cock; fucking your wet fist.

"hnghh... yeah, f-fuck..." sylus panted, thrusting his hips into the makeshift hole he made using your hand. his foxy eyes narrowed, bright ruby orbs rolling back as he rasped out swears from the absolute pleasure he was feeling.

rafayel hovered above your naked torso, his pretty cock resting on the valley between your tits. he grabbed his dick, giving it a few strokes, whimpering at his own touch before looking down at you.

"you're so beautiful." the lemurian whispered through labored breaths, face flushed as his mixed indigo eyes peeked at you through a half-lidded lust-filled stare.

rafayel swallowed harshly, guiding the tip of his leaky cock to your nipple; circling the hard bud as his precum coated it. your breath hitched, watching him use his hard cock to paint streaks of his precum all over the expanse of your hickey-littered chest.

he then spat on his hand, rubbing his spit all over his dick to lubricate it before settling it between your soft tits. using both of his hands, he squished your tits together to squeeze his warm cock between them. the whimper leaving his mouth was almost embarrassing from how loud and needy it was.

without a second more of hesitation, rafayel began to rut his hips forward, thrusting between your tits. he stroked your nipples before using his thumb and index finger, pinching the swollen buds and rolling them between his fingers.

"ahhh~ rafayel! f-feels good...!" you moaned, watching the blush pink tip of his cock peek through your cleavage every time he motioned his hips forward.

"hnghh... love your tits so much, cutie. so soft... so tasty and cute." he breathes out a small chuckled, eyebrows pinched in pleasure as he continued to thrust his cock between your boobs. his precum coated the valley of your tits, making it easier for him to slide between them.

while he continued his ministrations of using your titties to fuck himself, you focused on making sylus cum. you increased the pace of your hands, feeling his hand tightening the grip on yours, the vein on his cock pulsating as frequent deep whimpers left his lips. your thumb caught his slit, teasing it as he could feel his balls tighten.

"hmm... gonna make me cum, kitten." he groans, continuing to pump his cock using your hand until you felt the warm, thick wads of his cum dribble down your fingers. his hands slightly trembled, chest heaving as he tried to compose himself.

"fuck, that was... so hot." sylus chuckled, releasing your hand as he watched you bring your cum covered fingers to your mouth; licking his release as you hummed in approval.

he could feel himself get instantly hard again from such an erotic sight.

"you're mean, darling." he shook his head, making you grin.

you broke away your gaze from sylus, watching rafayel fall apart as he desperately groped your tits.

"h-hahhh... need y..-your help, cutie! please?" he pathetically begged, swallowing harshly as his hips stuttered. rafayel grabbed your wrist once more, smelling your scent and licking your flesh; groaning at how intoxicated you made him feel. the tip of his tongue traced your fingers before encasing them with his soft lips, sucking and biting on your digits; indigo eyes looking at you with a pleading look.

you smirked, knowing that it'd be easy to tease him. you were basically at all of their mercy, but knowing you still had just a little bit of power against him at least; it made your heart beat in your pussy.

"you poor thing, need my help?" you pouted, faux sympathy written all over your face. the others watched in amusement and rafayel's horny-fucked brain couldn't even have the dignity to feel embarrassed.

"p-please... promise i'll be good, so good." he breathed out and you smiled in satisfaction, sitting up before pushing him back. rafayel now sat on the mattress, hungry eyes watching you sit back on your knees.

you leaned down, squishing his cock between your tits before sliding them up and down. rafayel's eyes screwed shut in pleasure, countless of goans and whimpers slipping out of his tongue; showering you endlessly with praise.

"y-yeah cutie, just like that... nghhh~ gonna make me cum." rafayel shamelessly moaned, mouth gape open as his breathing was uneven. you stuck your tongue out, lapping at his tip before wrapping your lips around it; suckling on it as if it was a lollipop.

you rubbed your tits together on his shaft, using your mouth to suck the rest. your drool trickled down from his swollen tip to the squishy tight slit created by your tits; making his cock slide with ease. the sounds produced was obscene, shlick shlick shlick. rafayel could feel his body tremble in pleasure, stroking your hair as his balls twitched.

"gonna cum! h-hahhh... p-please, cutie!" his lips were swollen from how much he bit them. soon enough, his hot cum was painting your tits, dripping down your nipples as his cock throbbed.

"fuck.." rafayel sighed, stroking your cheek as he glanced at what he did.

mentally clicking a picture to remember for the rest of his life when he fucks his fist to the thought of you.

"better?" you innocently batted your eyelashes, looking up at him with a dazed expression.

"you little minx." his breath hitched as you turned your face to the side, catching his thumb between your lips to give it a small suck before biting it playfully.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself a little too much, brat." you heard a daring voice break the moment, looking up to see a mean caleb glowering down at you.

you swallowed harshly, looking at rafayel for some help, but the cheeky lemurian only grinned at you; eyes twinkling with trouble as he moved away.

"you like being used like this, don't you? have you forgotten who's in control here?" now, xavier came into view as he scoffed, taking in your pitiful state.

"i think it's time that you learn your place." caleb suddenly pushed you towards the ash-blonde haired male, making you gasp as you were now sitting on his waist; hands pressed against his bare chest. you could feel the curve of xavier's hard cock press against your ass, making you unknowingly grind against the throbbing length of it to seek for some friction.

"tch, look at you. you're like a fuckin' bitch in heat." xavier snickers, holding down your hips with a bruising grip, making you wince. you felt the tip of his dick slip between your wet folds, his hands maneuvering your hips to help you glide on him. a breathy whimper leaves your lips, feeling his sticky tip caress your achy clit.

you hear the clinking sound of caleb's belt being undone and in what felt like mere seconds; you could feel his warm body heat radiating behind you. his lips grazed your nape, the tip of his nose gliding on your skin. he left wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder, trailing down the deep passage of your spine; making you arch forwards from your increased sensitivity.

xavier on the other hand fondled your tits, pinching and twisting your nipples. his fingers moved down, brushing against your hips. suddenly, you felt his tip prodding your tight hole, making you gulp.

they were all so fucking big and thick, you were wondering how you'd take them all. god, you couldn't even use process of elimination to figure out who'd be less painful to take in.

however, all that thinking flew straight out of your ears as xavier planted his feet on the mattress; harshly thrusting upwards into you. a croaky moan ripped out of your throat, your head lolling back to caleb's chest as you breathed heavy.

although xavier wasn't that thick, he was long as fuck; he couldn't even bottom out fully inside your cunt. you could feel his tip kissing your cervix. while caleb continued to place bite marks and lick at his work, xavier paid no mind to his counterpart; fucking you at a brutal pace.

"hnghh~ a-aahh... xav! w-wait!" you tried to slow him down, but that only made him go faster. he grabbed your hands which were resting on his lower stomach, pulling you forwards as you fell on his chest; away from caleb's touch.

the colonel scowled at the loss of your skin, glaring at the ash-blonde male in front of him. xavier didn't care, his hand finding purchase to the supple fatty flesh on your ass, spanking you hard as you yelped in pain and pleasure. your eyes squeezed shut, trying to form coherent words.

"you know i hate it when you don't look at me while i'm fucking you. open your eyes, y/n." he tapped your face, forcing you to look down at him. you bit your lips, trying to prevent another moan from flying out of your mouth, feeling xavier's cock rub your wet velvety walls just right.

his tip continued to bruise your cervix, his thrusts were deep and hard as he made sure you felt every inch of him in you. a ring of cream began to form at the base of his shaft, your juices dripping down to coat his heavy balls as you felt your thighs burning.

"hope you didn't forget about me, princess." caleb whispered, hovering behind you as you felt him grope your ass cheek. your eyes widened as you felt him spread them, his index finger gently grazing your other untouched tight hole.

"nghh.. wait, caleb! h-hahhh, never did it there before." you confessed, making him chuckle.

"well then, i'm glad to be your first here. don't worry, i'll make sure you're ready for me." caleb's words did seem genuine but rather because of the fact that he was about to touch you and feel you somewhere no one ever has.

you nodded at his words, too fucked out to even care about anything else. you were more focused on cumming, your cunt puffy and weeping from being neglected the last time your orgasm was denied; thanks to caleb.

so, you definitely didn't wanna get on his bad side again.

caleb spat on his fingers, bring it down to your ass before spreading the sticky spit on your hole. you soon felt his wet digit push through the tight ring of muscle, making you wince in pain as you breathed heavily.

"f-fuck... hurts.." you whined, but it would soon dissipate as xavier continued to drill into your pussy, distracting you from the pain of having caleb's finger in your ass.

it took some time but eventually the colonel was able to finger-fuck your ass with two of his fingers, meanwhile, xavier thrusted up into your leaky pussy that sheathed his throbbing cock. the ash-blonde haired male rubbed your clit to provide some more stimulation, your body trembling once you felt caleb withdrawing his fingers from inside you.

caleb sat on his knees, spreading your ass once more before leaning in, the tip of his tongue dragging from where you and xavier were connected; all the way up to your ass hole.

"ah! caleb!" you cried out, feeling him land a glob of spit on the tight hole before pulling away. caleb grabbed the base of his cock, his tip was a reddish-purple; angrily weeping precum as he stroked himself a few times. you could hear him groan behind you before feeling his wet tip squish against your hole.

"c'mere." caleb commanded, a hand coming down to gently grab your jaw, pulling you back to him. he tilts your head up, making you look into his eyes; leaning down to press his lips on yours in a searing kiss.

that's when you felt the burning stretch of his fat tip pushing past the tight ring of muscle in your ass, a pained cry leaving your lips, only to be muffled as he swallowed it; not letting go of your lips. tears pricked your eyes, feeling him slowly feed his cock into your tight ass, inch by inch.

the kiss with caleb was rough and messy, full of tongue and spit. the wet smacking sound of his lips clashing with yours as he drinks in your moans was so erotic. as his cock was now thrusted deep in your ass, he was kind enough to let you adjust to his size. his hand still firmly grabbing your jaw in place to not break away from the kiss while the other played with your tits.

meanwhile, xavier continued to give you nice slow and soft thrusts in your cunt, paying close attention to stimulate your clit. you were so full of both of their cocks, your mind was blank.

all you thought of was dick, dick, dick.

it was embarrassing and greedy, how full they made you feel, how good the burn felt as they both stretched out your holes.

it was definitely a pornographic sight.

as you grew used to having both of them inside you, caleb was the first to quicken his pace, pistoning his hips into you as his cock began to rub your walls. following in suit, xavier tried to match his rhythm, fucking your cunt with more rigor. your mouth gaped wide open, unable to respond to caleb's kiss anymore as you were too cock drunk.

"a-a..ahh! nghh~ feels so good!" you cried out in pleasure, feeling them both rub against the thin barrier that separated the two. you could feel your lower stomach churn in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as you began to drool from the corner of your mouth.

"what a dumb little slut, fucked your brains out already?" you heard xavier darkly chuckle, pinching your clit as you yelped at the sudden sharp sensation.

"p-please... wanna cum so bad! x..-xav.." your throat was parched as you tried to control your breathing, your lower stomach tightening as you could feel the familiar build-up of your orgasm.

"tch, you're moaning his name when i'm stuffing you full of my dick? where are your manners, pipsqueak?" caleb's tone was gravely, glaring at you with a look that could only make your knees grow weak, his grip on your jaw tightening just a little to remind you he was still here; balls deep in you.

"s-sor.. hgnhh.. sorry! please, c..caleb.." you stammered out, feeling the alternating push and withdraw of their cocks syncing together; turning your brain into mush.

displeased with your switch up, xavier yanked you forwards by your arm, squishing your cheeks together.

"you deceitful vixen, running to him when you don't get what you want? i'm the one taking care of this slutty pussy and you have the nerve to beg him? the fuck is wrong with you." xavier seethed with anger, his hips bucking into yours with more intensity; making you wail out in pleasure.

"i'm sor-" you tried to helplessy apologize again, only to be pulled back by caleb; the start of a tug-of-war as if you were a toy.

"don't fucking apologize to him, princess. you're mine, so when i say that you can cum, then you cum." caleb whispered, making you shiver as you sniffled out a cry.

"please.. fuck, please- i can't! t..too much.." you whimpered, making them both scoff.

"you can take it." both caleb and xavier sneered, making you whine.

"ungrateful brat, wanting us both and now you're saying it's too much?" xavier slapped your clit, making you jolt. you felt caleb bite down on your shoulder, the cold metal of his dog tag pressed against your warm, flushed skin.

you felt them twitch inside you, throbbing thick cocks rubbing against your insides. caleb and xavier continued to slide in and out of you, making your body grow hot.

"fuck, fuck, please! s-so close..!" you breathed out, feeling xavier's thrusts grow sloppy as with one final hard thrust; he emptied his balls inside you. his thick, warm cum filled your cunt as you quivered, his hips still rolling back in you.

your head was spinning, both of their scents were intoxicating. their hands were groping, slapping and stroking every bit of skin exposed to their lustful eyes. both caleb and xavier's thrusts held no mercy, battering your cunt and ass as your thighs felt like jelly. you squealed, feeling your walls tightening as you desperately squirmed, trying to lift yourself off and escape.

"where are you going? don't run away, i'm not done yet." caleb yanked you back to him. caleb's grunts and groans got louder by your ear, his arm wrapping around your stomach to hold you down in place; his cock fully in your ass as he shot fat wads of his sticky cum.

before you could process anything, they sadistically exchanged a cruel smirk, pulling out of you as your holes gushed out an obscene amount of their mixed cum.

"n-no! no! hnghh.. w-why.." you sobbed at the loss of contact, the fullness of their cocks gone as your orgasm was destroyed for the second time.

"since we weren't enough, why don't you go ask the others." caleb pushed you to the side, making you collapse on the mattress as tears ran down your cheek.

you looked up and noticed sylus and rafayel looking down at you, an unwavering glint pinned on your ruined form as they waited for your next move. it was humiliating, how you were begging them to let you cum; but it was too much.

you were going insane, needing some relief.

you weakly crawled to sylus and rafayel, sniffling as your body began to shake. your thighs were dripping with xavier and caleb's cum, your messy holes pulsing and aching.

"sy.. raf.. please, make me cum. i-i... i promise i'll be a good girl." you desperately pleaded, fat teardrops running down your flushed cheeks; making them both groan as your pathetic state only made their cocks harden.

"poor little kitten, they were so mean to you, weren't they?" sylus cooed as he wiped your tears away, tone honeyed with gentleness but with an undertone of mischief.

you nodded helplessly, leaning into his touch as you nuzzled your cheeks into his palm. you kissed the inside of his hand, licking the warm and rough skin.

just like a kitten.

sylus grinned at your antics, amused at how compliant you were. however, he wasn't that mean; he'd humor you.

"need us to make her feel better, cutie?" rafayel teasingly spoke, long fingers running across your slit as you whimpered; the tip of his digits circling your clit.

"mmphh, y-yes... please.." you bit down on your lip, tasting the metallic taste of blood.

"alright, sweetie. we'll help you." sylus chortled, leaning against the headboard. he grabbed your hips, spinning you around in one fluid motion, your back now facing him. he then lifted you up before placing you on his waist, as if you weighed nothing.

you yelped as sylus hooked his beefy arms under your thighs, pulling them up to your head; putting you in a mean full nelson. the sudden pressure and stretch made your cunt gush out more of the cum that was fucked into you earlier, soaked pussy lips spread apart as you were now exposed and on display in a very vulnerable position.

"s-sylus!" you shyly meeked, making him hum.

"what? don't be selfish, sweetie. you know the fish is an artist, let him see this masterpiece." sylus bit your earlobe.

rafayel settled between sylus's legs, now in front of you as he shamelessly stared at your messy folds. he salivated as it took everything in him to not just lean down and makeout with your tempting cunt.

"stop lookin'." you whined, feeling how intense his gaze was. however, rafayel just gave you a breathy chuckle.

"why not? she's sooooo pretty." he licked his lips, flashing you a boyish grin, making your heart leap into your throat.

the lemurian lowered his head, pressing gentle kisses on your soft stomach, dragging his lips up your navel until he reached your tits. he sighed in bliss, smoothering his face between your boobs as he kissed and licked the mounds of flesh.

his dick rested on top of your pussy, sticky tip parting your folds as he rutted his hips; sliding the length of his cock against your slick covered cunt. his tip repeatedly nudged your clit, rubbing it as you moaned in bliss from the heavenly contact.

your hand found purchase in his dusky, purple hair; carding your fingers through his soft locks. you tugged on his hair, making him moan as the vibration rumbling from his lips were felt on your nipple as he sucked; making you choke out a moan.

the silver haired male kissed your temple, smiling.

"come on, sweetie, need you to hold your legs up for me so i can take care of you." his voice was groggy, releasing your legs before grabbing your hands to help you lift them as you obeyed.

"there you go, good girl." sylus praised, grabbing the base of his cock, swiping it a few times between your messy folds, nudging his tip on your hole. you moaned at the feel of his cock deliciously rubbing against your aching pussy.

"p-please... nghh- no more teasing." you were breathless, feeling rafayel once again capture your nipple in his mouth, suckling as if his purpose in life was to worship your tits.

"if you say so, sweetie." sylus compliantly shoved his inches in you, feeding your greedy hole his hard dick. your jaw dropped, eyes rolling back as his fat girth stretched your cunt; sliding in with ease because of your arousal along with xavier and caleb's shared cum.

rafayel watched your hole eagerly swallow up sylus's cock, gulping at the sight as his dick was painfully hard; globs of precum dripping onto your clit.

"so tight even after all that? how cute." sylus lets out a huff, slowly moving his hips upwards to give you some slow and deep strokes; tip squishing against your cervix.

"h-hnghh... fuck... feels so good, sy." you moaned, turning your head to the side to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. he happily accepted, sucking on your bottom lip before swiping his tongue against it for permission to explore your mouth.

his hands firmly grabbed your hips before planting his feet on the mattress, grounding both himself and you before pounding upwards into your dripping cunt. your mouth flew open from his sudden shift in pace, and he took that chance to shove his tongue in your mouth; exploring every cavern and crevice. both of your tongues mingled and tangled, sucking and licking as drool trickled down your chin.

"fuck, cutie... you look so hot like this; it's tempting. i can't let the crow have all the fun now, can i?" rafayel's fingers stroked your thigh, leaning down to kiss your plush thighs, gently biting the soft skin.

"ahhh... raf.." you whimpered, biting your lip as you feel his tip poke your ass hole. you released one of your legs, pressing your foot on his chest to stop him.

"hm?" the lemurian tilts his head in confusion at your sudden action, stopping his advances.

"n-not there... need you and sy at the same time.." you licked your dry lips, words barely coming out as a whisper. rafayel's eyes widened at your request, sylus's ruby orbs mirroring the same bewilderment.

"naughty girl, you want us both in this sweet cunt of yours? you think you can handle it?" sylus teased, a cocky smirk painted on his lips.

you nodded frantically, your foot running down rafayel's chest as you looked up at him with a cheeky smile; eyes barely open as you gazed at him with a dazed look.

"i can handle it, p-promise." you assured, making rafayel grin.

"well you heard her, crow. make some space." he grabbed the base of his shaft, now aligning his cock with your hole that was already occupied with sylus's thick cock. the silver haired male scoffed, rolling his eyes before momentarily stopping his thrusts; letting rafayel ease into you.

a screamish-moan ripped out of your throat, your walls clamping instinctively on both of their cocks; both men grunting in response as the space became tighter. your eyes swelled with tears, the salty warm fluid streaming down your cheeks as you tried to adjust to the painful stretch of having two giant cocks lodged in your cunt at the same time.

"shh... there, there, pretty girl. it's okay." rafayel tried to console you, his words barely making it to a full sentence before his voice betrayed him; a strangled whimper slipping off his tongue.

"i gotcha, sweetie." sylus mumbled against the skin of your nape, his hand snaking around your waist, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub soothing circles on the bundle of nerves to distract you.

the both of them allowed you to adjust to their cocks, providing additional stimulation to help you relax so that your walls aren't as tense. rafayel's teeth grazed your nipples, teasing and flicking the pebbled buds while sylus's fingers worked their magic to affectionately pinch and stroke your clit.

"nghh~ feels good... hnnghh- need more." you whined, moving your hips on your own accord, wincing as you could feel both of their dicks rubbing against your velvety wet walls.

"ya sure you're ready, cutie? we have all night." rafayel let out a shaky laugh, half-joking.

"moveee." you bucked your hips, making sylus chuckle.

"someone's impatient, not that i mind." with that being said, sylus once again began to slowly thrust into your pussy. he grunted, feeling his cock graze against rafayel's, the sensation feeling a little weird but he ignored that fact.

rafayel moaned at the sudden friction, his hand wrapping around your calf to push it by your head; mirroring your other leg which you still held up obediently. rafayel leaned closer, pressing against you before latching his lips onto your; kissing you senselessly.

you moaned into his mouth, feeling the both of them pistoning into your tight, dripping hole. rafayel hissed as he felt your fingers tug his hair, angling your jaw to deepend the kiss.

the room was full of wet skin slapping followed by the lewd sound of your pussy gushing out your juices; coating their cocks in your arousal as it dribbled down to their balls. rafayel's lips continued to suck and kiss at your swollen and bitten once; his tongue suckling with yours before pulling away as a string of saliva connected you two.

he pushed himself off of you, bringing the leg he held for you towards him. he kissed your ankle, running the tip of his tongue down to your calf before kitten-biting the flesh of it.

"mmphh... you taste so fucking sweet." rafayel swore under his breath, thrusting his cock deeper into your weeping hole. sylus followed in suit, both of their tips bruising your cervix.

"shit... you're taking us both so well, sweetie." sylus praised, now matching the movement of his fingers that were once leisurely rubbing your clit to the pace of his thrusts.

in seconds, everything shifted.

their gazes darkened, clouded with need and hunger. you squealed, feeling both sylus and rafayel thrusting in and out of your cunt with no mercy as their movement didn't falter.

not once.

they were so perfectly synced together, as if they were one.

"a-ahhhh~... f-fuck! please, please, please! so close... god! i'm gonna cum!" you choked on your tears as you sobbed, the pleasure you were feeling was intense.

your eyes rolled back, toes curled as you were gasping for air. both men grunted and moaned; focusing on chasing their high.

"how bad you want it, kitten?" sylus groaned, fucking his hips upward as you whimpered.

"so bad, fuck, need it so bad!" you desperately answered, convinced that you wouldn't survive another ruined orgasm.

"yeah? ask nicely, where are your manners, cutie?" rafayel snickered, driving his hips into your; pelvis meeting yours with brutal thrusts that made your body jerk.

"h-hahhhh... oh my god...- please, please, please. let me cum? i promise i'll be good, so fuckin' good. please raf... sy... need it so bad." you threw out every last ounce of dignity within yourself to beg them with your last bit of voice.

both men, clearly satisfied with your answer, feed your cunt with their cocks using an unforgiving pace of thrusts. rafayel's hips were a bit sloppier, but they were fast and needy, like he was scared that you'd disappear. in contrast, sylus's pace was slow but his thrusts were hard and deep; making sure his tip met your cervix with every movement of his hips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." the silver haired male let out a guttural moan, eyes screwed shut as he could feel his cock pulsate; vein twitching as blood flowed with adrenaline.

rafayel shamelessly moaned on top of you, panting like a dog as he continued to fuck his dick into your wet hole.

"open your mouth." he demanded and too fucked out to even decipher his intentions, you obeyed. rafayel spat into your mouth, the thick glob of spit coating your tongue before you swallowed it.

"good girl." rafayel grunted, feeling his balls tightening as he was close to cumming as well.

your stomach knotted, the build-up of your orgasm even more stronger as your gummy walls clamped down on their cocks viciously.

"auughh~ i'm cumming! fuck.. hnghh..." you choked out a moan, eyes screwed shut as hot liquid squirted out of your cunt; coating rafayel's lower abdomen. you creamed on their cocks, body twitching as you feel both of them creampie you; shoving their sticky and gooey cum deep into your womb.

your juices and their cum dripped down your thigh, coating sylus's balls as you could hear his breathing become uneven from the aftermath of such intense pleasure. rafayel collapsed on top of you, still mindful to not crush you with his entire weight.

"so tired..." he childishly whined, biting your nipple playfully as you huffed.

"you're heavy, raf, get off." you grumbled, making him pout as he smoothered his face between your boobs once again.

"nah, you're too soft." he argued, making you roll your eyes.

"i feel sticky and gross.." you mumbled, noticing how the room was a bit more quieter. xavier was passed out on the couch and caleb left the room a few minutes ago for whatever reason; zayne watching the whole scene intently from the edge of the bed.

you locked eyes with him, noticing the slight blush on his face. he cleared his throat, looking away.

"perhaps a hot shower might be nice." he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"yeah, it does sound tempting." you hummed.

"need some help, sweetie?" sylus offered, but his tone had a hint of mischief.

"i got it." zayne suddenly spoke up, walking over to where you were sandwhiched between rafayel and sylus. he pushed the groggy lemurian over, making him groan.

"hey! i was comfy." rafayel complained, making the doctor roll his eyes.

"it's my place, surely i know my bathroom better." sylus snickered, making zayne narrow his eyes.

"if i could perfom hundreds of heart surgeries, i'm sure i can figure out how to work your damn shower." zayne snarked back with an equal amount of bite, making the silver haired male smirk.

"touche, she's all yours, doc." sylus chuckled.

zayne sighed, scooping you up in his arms before heading into the bathroom; locking the door behind him.

"you look... fucked." he blurted out, making you laugh at his dry comment.

"wow, thanks, i didn't know." you playfully rolled your eyes, making him crack a small smile.

"that was... intense. after you shower, i could get you some painkillers to help with any soreness. can you stand?" zayne asked with a flicker of concern in his hazel orbs, settling you on your legs and lightly loosening his grip; only for your knees to wobble as you held onto his bicep for support.

"i guess not." he answered his own question, making you chuckle.

"mind helping me out, doc?" you asked, peering up at him with a girly smile. zayne felt his heart skip a beat, heat creeping up to his neck.

it's not like this would be his first time being intimate with you, but you still made him feel incredibly nervous.

"if you insist, then i don't mind." his tone was soft and gentle. you smiled at his agreement, taking off his glasses. you leaned onto the sink for support, watching him undo his tie before unbuttoning his shirt; revealing his chiseled chest.

fuck, his physique was like a greek god.

he undid his belt, zipping down his pants before kicking them off together with his boxers; his cock springing to life as his pinkish tip was a little swollen while dripping with precum. you leaned forwards, now pressed against him as your bare chest rubbed against his.

zayne groaned at the intimate skinship, his cock rubbing against your soft thighs. your hand reached down, grabbing the shaft as you experimentally gave it a few strokes.

"let me take care of you." your voice was a bare whisper, making him shudder. but, to your surprise, he shook his head.

"no, you don't have to do this for me, i'll get myself off or something. just ignore it, okay?" zayne tried to convince you, but it only made you frown.

"but i want to... i've been wanting to feel you the whole night." you pressed soft kisses along his jawline, making him swallow harshly as you saw his adam's apple bob.

"then let me make it up to you since that bastard pulled me away from you. i'll make you feel good, baby." he lifted your hips, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as his cock was now nestled between your folds.

he walked inside the shower, pulling the glass doors to close it before turning on the water; adjusting the temperature. you cupped his face, pulling him closer to yours to seal his lips with yours.

zayne moaned into your mouth, molding his lips with yours as he softly kneaded your ass. your tongue poked his bottom lip, seeking for entry which he happily granted. you kissed him with a needy vigor, sucking his tongue as you stroked his wet jet black hair.

pulling away breathlessly, zayne looked down at you with swollen lips. he attacked your neck with kisses, making your whimper as you felt his tongue graze your flesh, softly tracing the hickies left on your skin with the tip of his tongue. he moved down to your tits, sucking your nipples as your hand held the back of his head; pushing him closer as you moaned.

"mhmm... feels so good, zayne." you praised, watching him tug your nipple between his teeth before giving it a deserving suck. he soon lets go of your swollen bud, hazel eyes meeting yours.

"i'll be gentle, okay?" he assured, making your chest feel warm and fuzzy as you nodded; wrapping your arms around his neck.

zayne grabbed the base of his cock, tapping your clit a few times, making you jolt. he smirked at how responsive your body was, aligning his tip with your hole. with a firm grip on your hips, he begin to sink you down on his hard cock, slowly shoving his inches inside you.

your mouth formed an 'o' shape as your eyes shut tight, feeling full as he bottomed out.

"s-so full.." you moaned, feeling him slowly thrust inside of you as the curve of his dick molded so perfectly in your wet walls. you clenched down on him, making him grunt at the sudden tightness.

"you feel so good, babygirl." zayne whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek and temple before sliding you up and down his dick. you rested your head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent as you kissed his neck.

this felt so new compared to what happened just minutes ago. the others fought over you like you were some piece of meat to claim; but zayne treated you like you were made of glass.

he was so gentle with his touches and strokes, you could almost cry.

zayne's tip nudged your cervix with every push of his hips, now having you pressed against the wall to have a better hold of you so that he can drive his hips into yours faster. your cunt weeped with arousal, gummy walls coated with his precum.

his thrusts were sharp yet slow, making sure it applied the right amount of pressure and friction to make you feel like you were seeing stars. his balls slapped against your ass, your nipple between his lips.

"hnghh.. love your cock, zyane. g-gonna cum.." you let out a shaky breath, clenching down on him as your increased sensitivity betrayed your body, not allowing you to hold onto your orgasm for too long.

"it's okay, baby. you can cum." he grunted against the wet skin of your tits and you didn't realize how intimate and erotic the whole sight was.

a choked out whimper escaped your throat, your cunt clamping down on him as you squirted all over his cock. your body twitched and trembled at your orgasm, panting as you leaned against his chest.

"shit, please... i need you to fill me up." you begged and that's all it took him to bust a fat load of his thick, hot cum inside your hole.

"fuck.." he swore and god it sounded so hot coming from his mouth.

the bathroom was filled with the sounds of uneven breathing and the running showerhead.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred awake, groaning as you now laid on your back. sunlight beamed into your room, making your eyes burn as you tried to crack one of them.

"fuckin' hell.." you cursed under your breath, adjusting your vision as you sat up on your bed. your head was swirling as you held it in pain, wincing.

it was all a dream.

you slapped yourself, not believing how delusional you became to believe that whatever the hell that was could be reality.

"yeah, i'm losing it." you sighed deeply, scratching your head. you tapped your phone screen, reading the time as your eyes blew wide open.

fuck, it was well past noon, meaning you missed your morning classes already.

"you're kidding me." you huffed out in annoyance, leaning back on the headboard as you unlocked your phone.

you saw the many, many, many missed calls from your best friend; making you snort.

as you swiped through your applications, your eyes fell on the love and deepspace icon. memories of your strange dream replayed fresh in your memory, your body weirdly aching.

you brushed off those thoughts, clicking the icon as you wondered if infold fixed those weird bugs and glitches by now. you were surprised to see the app back into shape, running in good quality as you logged in with ease.

"huh, weird." you mumbled to yourself, calmly collecting your daily’s.

until you realized you had five undread messages.

hey pipsqueak, hope you're not still mad at me for being a bit mean to ya. i'll cook for you when you come back :p

hope you're not missing me too much, sweetie. come back and i'll take you for a joyride.

cutieeee! i miss you already :C come back soon, okay? need my personal pillow back.

if your throat is still sore, come back so we can have hotpot together. it'll be my treat.

have you taken those painkillers like i told you to?

your jaw was wide open, not believing your eyes. these texts seemed way too real to be automated.

"what the fuck." you quickly opened your front camera, only to see the faint purplish marks decorating your neck.

holy shit, all of that was real.

a smirk etched on your face as you quickly tapped the facetime app, ringing the only person you knew could stand this news and have a silver of faith in you to be convinced.

"finally decided to call me back? thought you died in your sleep or something." your best friend nagged at you, making you chuckle.

"you won't believe what happened last night." you giggle, making her roll her eyes at you.

"let me guess, you had a dream about all the lads guys fucking your brains out." she responded with a bored voice.

"even better."

---

a/n: hehe, if you made it to the end, kuddos to you cuz rereading through this was a pain the ass. if you couldn't tell by now, this was very self-indulgent, so i got carried away. hope you guys enjoyed it tho!!

[uncreative-cryptid]

aha this has me thinking about about cannibalism and morality now, and not just for any reason, but i think the reason a lot of people can't give a better explanation of "cannibalism is bad because that's illegal" probably don't understand that centuries of death rituals and innate teachings of religion are likely at work here.

if you read the bible on death and how the dead are meant to be handled, you'll probably note something rather distinct:

Numbers 19:11 ; "Whoever touches the dead body of anyone will be unclean for seven days"

you are considered "unclean" when handling dead bodies, so i would also give to assume that the idea of eating a human body would be difficult as you would be considered unclean and would have to go through a whole ass cleansing ritual to be considered "clean" and "acceptable" again.

but this isn't the only thing at play here when it comes to cannibalism. i think that religion's views and handling of the dead also lay within their death rites and rituals, as a lot of religions will consider the human body sacred. i think it'd be abhorrent if someone you loved passed away then was flayed, sectioned, and butchered, all before you in a way to be consumed and then you were offered a piece of meat as compensation.

i can only imagine how the catholics would feel if we exhumed the saints and decided to chew on a femur or two for enrichment.

though, alternatively, consumption of a person in some ways can be seen as symbolic of love (i.e. jesus saying the bread is his body and the wine his blood, that you may consume him and accept him)

something i think a lot of people also unconsciously take into consideration without truly realizing it is that when say "corpse" you are using a very broad term that could mean anything dead.

i like to eat meat, particularly ribs. i am actively consuming a cooked corpse when i choose to eat ribs. now, why does that make it different from saying "eat humans"? well, when i consume beef or pork ribs, i am eating an animal i have over many years been conditioned to equal as a source of food.

hundreds, if not thousands, of years of society telling me that animal and livestock lives are less than. i can still vividly recall the way my family excused ruthless slaughter of farm animals for consumption as "well they aren't going to heaven because they don't have souls anyway".

so what point am i trying to make here exactly?

inherently, over a long period of time, either based in religion or just societal belief, we have conditioned ourselves to see humans as "higher" - after all, we're top of the food chain. in some arbitrary way, we've assigned ourselves as gods of a hierarchy of animals. we are sentient, we are living and breathing and aware and emotional and volatile and constantly changing creatures subject to love, hate, pain, fear, bravery, bias, and a number of learned behaviors we subconsciously take on.

because we think, therefore we am.

so we have:

religious beliefs (the dead are unclean, diseased AND the body is sacred and must be treated with respect as is their final rites for their transition into the afterlife)

humans are a "higher being" and should be treated as such

but lastly i'd like to point out that once you start thinking of humans, specifically dead humans, you begin to assign faces mentally.

the discussion of death and mortality is not often discussed outside certain circles or in the context of "a life after death, what waits beyond", and rarely do we actually discuss death in of itself.

this aversion to the discussions of death has inherently led to a lot of people becoming uncomfortable with the idea that we as mortal beings can and will die, this fate is inevitable no matter how we wish to perceive it.

i imagine that in some sense, when discussing the ethics and morals of cannibalism, we are subconsciously putting ourselves into that role. we tend to put our ego into a lot of things, because at the heart of it we are animals that want to preserve our lives to some degree.

cannibalism is uncomfortable because it poses the concept of death and humanity as nothing greater than the animals of the greater wilds, who must feast or die.

so, the points to make as to why cannibalism is "illegal" or "morally incorrect":

religious beliefs

humans are "higher beings"

the ego

humanizing what is no longer human, or what used to be human.

that last point, i highly suggest watching Caitlin Doughty's video The Rugy Team That Fell From The Sky, as it's part of her historical documentary and actually covers the topic of cannibalism (she has 3 that i can think of that cover cannibalism as a matter of fact to the story).

when faced with no alternative, people will turn to cannibalism.

in the book Tender Is The Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, it poses the question "what if no animal on earth was edible except humans?" and proceeds with explicit detail on how man would go about handling this - it's not something i suggest reading, it is graphic and hard to stomach, but essentially:

the less human you make it, the easier it is to consume.

we personalized and humanize, we're animals who seek comfort in the pack of families and communities. the more human, the more personal, the more you will struggle to consume that which as become more real to you.

but what if we could make it something of a ritual? a sacred ritual celebrating the life that is no longer, in the same way church made me eat a cracker and drink cranberry juice every sunday morning?

cannibalism is only illegal because we as humans personalized, humanize, and elevate, ourselves and those closest to us.

this excludes the understanding of sciences and that eating a human body can lead to disease, but i'd dare to say that we simply haven't experimented with human meat based meals to have made it edible and safe like we have with the corpses of cows and chickens and pigs and fish.

cannibalism is complex and fascinating and there's a lot to it, but "morally incorrect" is only subjective based on what you believe "humans" to be.

[bardicinspired]

Also while I'm on my Vax/Keyleth bullshit. I understand the criticisms that CR3 somehow took away the tradgedy of CR1's ending. But I have to disagree

And while I don't agree that Keyleth should've been Not Coping for 30 years, that was ultimately Marisha's decision and I respect it.

However CR3 didn't change the ultimate ending of Vax and Keyleth's relationship. Keyleth was always going to reunite with Vax, she even remarks upon it herself in CR1 "I'll see you again, Vax." -because while Keyleth is going to live for thousands of years she knows she will eventually die. And she knows that Vax is out there, waiting for that moment, just as in love with her as he was when the matron stole him away.

I mean if you know the love of your life is out there as a quasi-Death god, the afterlife is real, and he is still desperately in love with you wouldn't you find it hard to move on too?

What I'm saying is, the ultimate ending of Vax and Keyleth was always going to be reuniting. It was the time they were seperated that was the tradgedy. All CR3 did was shorten that time.

And you know? 30 years of mutual yearning is still tragic enough. On top of that, they are fundementally very different people than who they were when Vax died. Keyleth has 30 years of confidence, leadership, and life experience under her belt. Vax spent 30 years as the Grim Reaper and has forgotten what it is to be alive. They are different. They don't exactly fit together any more. They have to relearn who they are to each other and there's beauty in that but there's grief and tradgedy as well.

The Vax'ildan Keyleth knew died. The Keyleth Vax'ildan knew grew older & changed. They are strangers to each other and so very much in love. And they are reunited, as they always would've been. It just took several decades instead of several millennia.

[esthelle-wanders]

Warriors and Artemis: What The Heck Is Going On With Them (a self-appointed analysis)

SO I don’t tend to get too involved with shipping— but during my time in the Linked Universe fandom, I’ve noticed something consistent: while everyone has their own set of headcanons for favorite couples, Hyrule Warriors Zelink is the princess-hero duo with the widest variety of interpretations.

Aside from other factors— like Warriors fans living for angst— I think this stems from the reality that, in the context of Linked Universe specifically, the dynamic between Wars and Artemis is among the Link-Zelda relationships we know the least about.

Hence, in light of the recent holiday, I wanted to take a moment and collect all the clues we’ve gathered for this relationship over time. And, maybe, spark some conversation! (Buckle up and maybe make some hot chocolate, there’s surprisingly a lot to talk about)

[All image credits go to Jojo, with thanks!]

Part 1: Jojo’s Hints

When considering any Link-Zelda dynamic in Linked Universe, the easiest place to begin is Jojo’s response to the “love interest” question…aka, Default Zelink.

Obviously, this response doesn’t define the limits of fandom creativity, or invalidate the thousands of excellent stories we can tell with our own interpretations. It is, however, incredibly helpful as a starting point when we’re trying to puzzle out where Jojo might take a relationship in future updates!

Speaking of which— in her 2023 Discord gifts, Jojo also provided a handy scale for her take on each incarnation of Zelink.

For my present inquiry, this seems like a pretty definitive answer! Wars and Artemis are second from the top on the romance-scale, between Sky and Hyrule.

… except this actually tells us surprisingly little, given Hyrule’s relationship with Aurora:

This is adorable. It’s also makes for a much larger grey area for Wars and Artemis. After all, there’s a pretty big gap between “openly smitten and practically engaged” (Sky), and “there’s mutual feelings but nobody has actually said anything” (Hyrule). It doesn’t help that Wars and Legend are the only ones without additional commentary (Wild’s is included with an asterisk below the table in the same document).

This uncertainty is exacerbated by another tidbit of Jojo-gifted lore, and the biggest point of interest for me: how long it’s been between present day Linked Univese and the end of Hyrule Warriors.

It’s been six to seven years since Warriors and co. defeated Ganondorf. Aside from Time, that’s the longest adventure gap for any hero in LU.

So, here’s what we know:

1. Wars and Artemis are almost certainly romantically involved.

2. It’s more than mutual feelings, but less than an established relationship.

3. It’s been at least SIX years since the end of their adventure.

Obviously, I still have questions. Chief of which is: what does it mean that this is where their relationship stands, when it’s been 6+ years since their mutual adventure?

This sparks a few more questions.

1. If there’s mutual interest, why hasn’t it progressed?

2. Are there obstacles to a definite relationship?

and, of most interest to me:

3. If there’s an obstacle— are either Warriors or Artemis the reason for this?

Conveniently, that part’s next!

Part 2: Warriors and Artemis

A. Warriors’ side

Thus far, Wars has referenced Artemis (directly) exactly once (in “Moving Forward”):

This doesn’t tell us anything about the specifics of their relationship, but it does show that

1. Artemis is a fond subject for Wars: he cares about her.

2. She’s an exception to his hangups with secrecy: he trusts her.

(I considered providing instances of the “Wars and Not Being Told Stuff” saga, but that would 1. take forever and 2. test Tumblr’s image limit. I think we can all agree that this is a trait of his.)

This is a pretty reasonable indicator of how Wars feels about Artemis… for now. He cares about her, and even more notably, he trusts her.

But what about the princess in question?

B. Artemis’ side

As of now, the Zeldas have only come up a handful of times in LU.

Aside from background comics and cameos, references in the main story are largely restricted to Time giving Sky relationship advice in “Miss Her,” Wild addressing his thoughts to Flora at key moments in the aftermath of Twilight’s injury, and Time mentioning Lullaby in “Timeline talk 1.”

And then, of course, there are the Malon chapters.

Romance, as it pertains to the Links, is the subject of conversation at multiple points throughout this “arc”— but for my purposes, the most important stuff is this panel from “The Bet.”

Okay, aside from Wars making political-intrigue fanficcers very happy, this is super informative. A few key takeaways:

1. Wars also assumes Default Zelink.

2. He doesn’t see birth or status as an obstacle to marriage.

3. He’s so confident that he’s willing to bet on it.

(Admittedly, the Chain places a lot of bets— but it’s still worth mentioning that he’d stand his ground on this)

From here, I think we can make three statements and remain well within the realm of probability:

1. Wars thinks very highly of his Zelda.

He sees how much Time loves his wife, and Time’s general self-possession, and assumes it has to be the princess.

2. If there are obstacles to HW Zelink, they probably aren’t external.

Wars treats public support as a given, as long as the involved parties can play the political game.

3. He seems to be speaking from experience.

There’s no signs of frustration, or even a hypothetical here— he’s talking about this like it’s par for the course. Ergo, he probably hasn’t experienced anything that would contradict that assumption.

My conclusion: Artemis isn’t the obstacle. There’s no indication here that Wars’ Zelda is unable or unwilling to make the political arrangements he mentions. In fact, given how unconcerned Wars appears, I’d say it was never a point of contention at all.

That’s as far as I’m willing to go with this panel alone— but if we factor in Zelda’s attitude in Hyrule Warriors proper, I think it’s reasonable to assume that Artemis is open to taking this relationship to the next level.

*inhale*

So. If there’s mutual feelings, and there aren’t any external obstacles, and it’s been 6+ years— why aren’t they a couple?

Part 3: Let’s talk about Wars

Specifically, Wars and his relationship with… relationships. Of the romantic kind.

Since the earliest years of the LU fandom, it’s been fairly well-established that Wars is the resident flirt.

This comes from a few of the side comics, but also from the first-ever Linked Universe post:

Over time, the fandom’s interpretation of these traits seems to have shifted a bit.

Early fanworks tended to depict Warriors as the “Casanova” of the group. More recently (within the last few years), I’ve seen the widespread reading that “women problems” has more to do with Wars’ personal trauma than with a hypothetical reputation as a womanizer.

While these alternate perceptions have a big impact on how we might interpret situations like this—

— surprisingly, it makes very little difference to this self-appointed investigation. Whether he’s a chronic flirt, processing trauma, or both, the fact is that Wars doesn’t seem interested in “settling down” with a definite relationship.

This is clearest, I think, in this panel from “Powerful Ring”:

Warriors is being a tease here, but using the term “shackle” telegraphs a pretty clear opinion. Time even draws a bit of attention to it with his good-natured “aside.” It’s not something you’d say if you were actively looking to get into a long-term, committed relationship.

We’re encroaching on the image limit, but it’s worth noting that Wars’ attitude here contrasts sharply with Sky’s, and even Hyrule’s. Sky is all bashful interest, and Hyrule expresses doubt over his own ability to “settle down” as the Hero. Meanwhile Warriors, who sits between them on the Zelink romance scale, projects pointed, if very light-hearted, distaste (or at least disinterest).

So here’s Warriors’ side, updated:

1. Warriors cares about Artemis, a lot.

2. He also trusts her, a lot.

3. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want to be in an official relationship with her.

Part 4: Conclusion

Okay! Time for the TLDR:

1. Wars and Artemis are almost certainly romantically involved.

2. It’s more than mutual feelings, but less than an established relationship.

3. It’s been at least SIX years since the end of their adventure.

and, finally,

4. Wars himself is the obstacle to taking the relationship further.

Annnnd that’s as far as I can go, without veering off the tracks into headcanon territory.

Of course, while I tried to be as neutral and “canonical” as possible, at the end of the day, this is just speculation! And Esthelle amusing herself tracking down hyper-specific panels in Linked Universe like it’s an Important Assignment and not an Excuse To Read The Comic Again.

Whatever it turns out to look like, there’s so much potential in the Wars-Artemis dynamic! They’re interesting, and we should talk about them more— even if I didn’t plan to write quite this much about them in one post. I can’t wait to see what Jojo has planned.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! If you have additions, corrections, theories, or general thoughts, I’d love to read them.

[ephemeralinstance]

Lavellan in Veilguard

The scenes with the Solas-romancing Lavellan in Veilguard are, for me, one of the writing highlights of the game. Of course there are limitations with her being an NPC, but I think that subject to the constraints of the structure of the game, the writer did a really great job of a very difficult piece of writing - creating a depiction of the character that fits with thousands of different versions of Lavellan.

First of all, Lavellan's dialogue is elegant and lyrical, matching the cadence in which Solas speaks and thus showing how in-tune they are even after all these years. One thing I loved about Inquisition was that the language was often really beautiful, so I enjoyed seeing that kind of poetic language return here, and I think the writer understood and captured the heart of what a lot of people loved about the Solas romance - the poetry and beauty of it.

In addition, we get a range of different emotions. Lavellan expresses sadness ('He meant that much'), passion ('You've felt the power of that mind'), anger ('He left me to clean up his mess'), self-doubt ('Am I the prideful one?'). Whatever reaction you personally envision your character as having, you can find it represented in what she says here. I know some people wished Lavellan could have more of an angry confrontation with Solas, but that probably wouldn't have been possible without just allowing us to directly control Lavellan; I think the writer achieved a good compromise by showing us her anger and hurt in this conversation. 

At the same time, she's shown to be mature, self-aware, and reflective. We see her questioning herself, asking 'Am I the prideful one, imagining his broken heart so I'd never have to face my folly?' Lavellan isn't deluded; she's not romanticizing what happened. If she chooses to go with him, it's clear that she isn't naive or being manipulated. She's making this choice in a fully aware, thoughtful manner. And although Lavellan loves Solas deeply, he isn't her first priority. It's important that when Rook asks her if she'd be willing to leave with Solas, she states, 'No. We have to save the world first.' We're shown very clearly that she has a life outside of Solas, and she prioritizes her duty to the people of Thedas: only once her task is done is she able to put herself first, and finally choose her own desires over her duty for once. It's also impressive how clearly she understands Solas, as evident in her speculation that he's left clues because part of him wants to be stopped. I particularly liked the fact that she's shown to have a deeper understanding of him than Rook, as seen in their exchange about 'lies of the heart.' Rook just sees one superficial version of Solas as 'god of lies,' whereas Lavellan understands that although Solas did lie to her, at a deeper level he isn't good at concealing what he really feels. Lavellan absolutely knows and understand Solas' flaws and the 'bad' side of him that Rook has seen, but she also knows a different side of him that no one else has seen. If Lavellan chooses to go with him, it's because she understands him completely: she sees all the good and all the bad in him, and she chooses him anyway.

Finally, sometimes I see people critiquing Lavellan for being passive or not having much going on apart from her connection with Solas. Now first off, this clearly isn't true, since she spends the whole game mustering the armies of the south and sending detailed missives about her military operations - no one in Thedas has more going on than this woman! 

But also, it's important to keep in mind that Lavellan isn't supposed to be a fully-fleshed out character: she's specifically left vague enough so that you can fill in the details with your own Lavellan. For example, we're not told much about what she's been up to in the last ten years, but of course that's not because she's done nothing but pine for Solas: it's simply left unspecified so it can be compatible with different headcanons. Lavellan is specifically written to allow us to fill in the details, and the measure of success is not whether she comes off as a fully-developed character to people who don't have their own Solas-romancing Lavellan (honestly, those people shouldn't even be commenting, this writing isn't for them); the measure of success is whether she works as a stand-in for all of our individual versions of Lavellan. And although of course it's never going to be possible to please everyone, I think the writer did a great job within the limitations of what was possible in the plot.

[gmikaelson]

Masterpiece | K.M

Masterlist

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A/N: Soooo, everyone is going to pretend I posted this yesterday...right?

My attempt at a fluffy one shot. But angsty in the beginning. Happy belated Valentine’s Day!

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Klaus has had the textbook definition of a terrible day. He came home irritated and short-tempered, exploding on anyone who spoke to him—even you

As he stormed through the courtyard, you came down the stairs, “Klauuss~” you say in a cheery tone, “your back! I was thinking we could—“ you were immediately cut off by his sharp tone and cutting words, flinching slightly

"Not now, Y/N!" His voice booms through the courtyard, making a nearby vase rattle. Dark veins begin to appear beneath his eyes as his control slips "I'm not in the mood for your cheerfulness. I've spent the entire day dealing with incompetent fools who can't follow simple instructions, and the last thing I need is-"

He stops abruptly, catching the slight flinch in your movement. Something in his expression shifts, a flash of regret crossing his features before it's quickly masked by his usual stoic facade. He runs a hand through his disheveled dirty blonde hair, taking a deliberate step back

"I apologize, love. But I need to be alone right now. Before I do something I'll regret." His accent thickens with emotion as he speaks, each word carefully measured

Without waiting for a response, he turns and storms up the stairs toward his art studio, the sound of his boots echoing against the floors.

You sigh, deciding to let him be for once.

The moon hangs high in the night sky as Klaus finally emerges from his studio, paint staining his hands and clothes. He finds you curled up on the sofa in the library, a book forgotten in your lap as you doze. The sight of you immediately softens his hardened expression

Moving silently across the room, Klaus kneels before you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. The movement causes your eyes to flutter open

"I've been a right bastard today, haven't I, love?" His voice is soft, tinged with remorse "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."

"Mhm, you shouldn't" you mumble, turning around and facing the sofa instead

Klaus lets out a small, frustrated sigh at your dismissive response. He moves to sit on the edge of the sofa, his hand hovering over your shoulder

"Come now, my dear, don't be like that," his British accent lilts with a mixture of guilt and gentle persuasion "I know I was horrible earlier, and you have every right to be cross with me. But I'd rather not have you angry with me all night."

He leans closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers "I painted you today, you know. Spent hours trying to capture the exact shade of your eyes. Though I must say, even after a thousand years of practice, I still can't do them justice."

When Y/N remains stubbornly turned away, Klaus's voice takes on a more pleading tone "Y/N, love, look at me. Please?"

The 'please' comes out slightly strained - Klaus Mikaelson isn't used to begging for anything, but for you, he's willing to swallow his pride

You sigh, turning your head slightly, "what?"

Klaus's eyes soften as they meet yours, though your still clearly upset with him. He reaches out to trace his fingers along your jawline, but stops himself, knowing he hasn't earned back that right yet

"I'm sorry," he says, the words coming out with genuine remorse "I let my temper get the best of me, and you didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of it. You were merely trying to brighten my day, as you always do, and I responded like a complete arse."

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that betrays his usually confident demeanor

"I know I can be... difficult, love. But you're the last person I ever want to hurt. You're the light in all this darkness, Y/N, and I acted like a fool today."

His voice drops lower, more vulnerable "Tell me what I can do to make it right. I'll do anything"

You turn back to face him, pouting, "I was really excited for you to come home today, Klaus."

Klaus's face falls at your words, genuine guilt washing over his features. He reaches out, this time allowing his fingers to gently brush against your cheek

"I know, my love," his voice is soft, filled with regret "And I ruined it completely, didn't I? You deserve better than to be greeted with my foul mood and sharp tongue."

He shifts closer, his eyes searching yours, "Tell me what you had planned, dear. What was my beautiful girl so excited about?"

His thumb traces your pouting lower lip as you contemplate telling him, a gesture both apologetic and affectionate

"Perhaps it's not too late to salvage what's left of the day? I promise to be on my absolute best behavior," he adds with a slight smirk, though his eyes remain earnest "Though I know that's not saying much"

You smile slightly at his attempt to fix things. you open your mouth to say something but first, your eyes go to the clock in the corner before trailing back to him. Slowly, you shake your head, "nevermind it's too late now." you sit up, "It's okay. Really"

Klaus's expression darkens slightly, not with anger but with self-directed frustration. He knows you well enough to hear the disappointment beneath your words

"No, it's not okay," he says firmly, reaching out to catch your hand before you can fully pull away "And don't do that, love - don't dismiss your feelings to spare mine. I can see it in those beautiful eyes of yours that whatever you had planned meant something to you."

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles

"Tell me what I ruined, Y/N. Please? Even if it's too late now, I want to know what I missed because of my bloody temper." His blue eyes hold yours intently, filled with both regret and determination

"Fine,” you say in defeat, "since it's Valentine's Day, there was this cute little event where they give you flower pots that you get to paint, and then you get to choose a flower to plant in the pot. I just thought it was the cutest idea ever. Davina showed me the ones she and Kol made, and I was kinda hoping we could too, but...it's fine. Really. no big deal." I lean in and kiss his cheek, "I'm just glad you're feeling better now"

Klaus's face falls completely, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. The realization that he not only ruined your plans but forgot Valentine's Day entirely hits him like a physical blow

"Bloody hell," he mutters, closing his eyes briefly "Valentine's Day. Of course it is."

When he opens his eyes again, they're filled with determination. He stands suddenly, pulling you up with him

"Get your coat, love."

"Klaus, I told you it's fine—"

"It's not fine," he interrupts firmly "I refuse to let Valentine's Day end with my beautiful girl settling for 'fine.' I've been alive for over a thousand years, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that there's always a way." His signature smirk appears "Even if we have to... persuade someone to reopen the event just for us."

"Klaus..." you say softly as he cups your face in his hands

"You wanted to paint flower pots with me, my dear, and paint flower pots we shall. Even if I have to compel half of New Orleans to make it happen."

His expression softens "Besides, I rather like the idea of creating something with you. Even if it's just a simple flower pot."

You smile, "Klaus, no, you know how much I don't like you compelling people for me." You kiss the inside of his palm, "while it's too late for the event, it's not too late for us to go out and enjoy the night. Let's just go out and do something, yeah?"

Klaus's eyes light up at your suggestion, a fond smile playing on his lips as you kiss his palm. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist

"Ever the moral compass, aren't you, love?" he murmurs affectionately "Very well, no compelling tonight. Though I must say, your kindness continues to both baffle and enchant me."

"Yeah? So that's a yes?"

He brushes his lips against your forehead "Allow me fifteen minutes to make myself presentable, and then I'll take you somewhere special. Perhaps we can't paint flower pots, but I refuse to let this day end without properly celebrating it with you."

He steps back, but not before bringing your hand to his lips once more "Wear something warm, dear. And perhaps that necklace I gave you last week? The one that matches your eyes so perfectly?"

Nodding, you lean in to kiss his cheek. Klaus turns his head, meeting your lips, holding you in place as he kisses you deeply. He releases you, letting go as you turn away, flustered.

He watches you leave with a soft expression that's reserved only for you, before quickly pulling out his phone. His fingers move rapidly across the screen as he sends out several messages. If he can't give you the Valentine's Day you originally wanted, he'll make damn sure to give you something even better

Fifteen minutes later, Klaus stands in the courtyard, freshly changed into a dark henley and his signature necklaces. He's holding something behind his back as he waits for you

The sound of heels clicking against the stairs draws his attention upward, and his breath catches slightly at the sight of you. The necklace he gave you gleams against her skin, complementing your natural beauty

"Stunning as always, my love," he says, his accent thick with admiration "Though I must say, you make everything else pale in comparison."

"Thank you. Whatcha got there?"

He reveals what he's been hiding - a bouquet of deep red roses "I know it's not quite the same as planting flowers together, but I hope these might be a start to making up for my earlier behavior."

Your smile widens as you take the flowers from him, "Klaus...you didn't have to. Seriously," but your smile gives you away

Klaus's eyes crinkle with genuine pleasure at your obvious delight, despite her protests

"Oh, but I did, love," he steps closer, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear "If only to see that beautiful smile of yours. Besides," his voice takes on a playful tone "I'm Klaus Mikaelson. When have I ever done anything because I 'had to'?"

You place the bouquet on one of the chairs, making a mental note to put it in a vase when you get back.

Klaus offers his arm to you in a gentlemanly gesture "Now then, shall we? I believe I promised you a special evening, and I intend to deliver."

His eyes sparkle with mischief and something else - a softness that only you get to see "Though I must warn you, love, I may have arranged a few surprises. Nothing involving compulsion, I assure you," he adds quickly with a knowing smirk "Just a few... favors called in."

"Somehow that worries me more," you say, rolling your eyes

Klaus chuckles at your comment, leading you toward the compound's exit

"Now, now, sweetheart. Where's your sense of adventure?" he teases, pressing a kiss to your temple "Trust me, just this once?"

"Always"

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As you walk through the French Quarter, Klaus keeps you entertained with stories of past Valentines throughout history, particularly focusing on the more amusing disasters he'd witnessed. His real goal, however, is to keep you distracted from noticing the subtle movements of people entering and exiting the compound behind you

"You know," he says, guiding you toward Rousseau's "I was actually present for the very first Valentine's Day celebration. However, I must say, it was significantly less romantic than the modern version. Quite a bit more bloodshed involved, actually."

"Every day I am reminded just how old you are," but Klaus was too busy to be offended by your joke

He glances at his phone briefly, checking a message before quickly tucking it away "How about a drink first, love? I hear they've created a special cocktail just for tonight."

You shake your head, "They always seem to have a 'special cocktail, don't they?"

Klaus laughs, a genuine sound that echoes in the night air

"Touché, my dear," he guides you into the bar, his hand resting possessively on your lower back "Though I must say, watching you get tipsy is always an entertaining affair. You become even more delightfully sarcastic, if that's possible."

He pulls out a chair for you at the bar, then takes the seat beside you, keeping you close

"Besides," he leans in, his breath tickling your ear and causing you to squirm, "I rather enjoy how affectionate you become after a few drinks. The way you curl into my side, how your clever little comments become even more brazen..."

You giggle, "I thought after last time, you'd never let me drink again," you tease, bringing up the time Klaus had to carry you out of the bar.

"You're right. Perhaps we should keep it to just one drink tonight," he says with a knowing smirk "I have other plans for us, and I'd like you fully aware to appreciate them."

"Buzzkill" You grumble with a smile before Camille comes to take your drinks

"Hey, Cami!" You say cheerfully, hugging her over the bar.

Klaus tenses slightly at Cami's appearance, his hand instinctively moving to rest on your thigh - a subtle possessive gesture. Despite their friendship, old habits die hard, and Klaus's jealous nature never truly rests

"Ghayda! Klaus!" Cami greets with a knowing smile, catching Klaus's protective gesture "Happy Valentine's Day! What can I get for you two?"

Before you can order, Klaus interjects, "The special for my love here, and bourbon for me." His thumb traces small circles on your thigh as he speaks

Cami gives Klaus a subtle nod - she's clearly in on whatever he's planning - before turning to prepare your drinks

"Buzzkill, am I?" Klaus murmurs in your ear, his accent thickening "I assure you, love, there are many other ways I plan to intoxicate you tonight."

"Yes" you giggle, "buzz kill and apparently corny too." you turn your body on your stool to face him, crossing one leg over the other noting the way his eyes darken slightly. His gaze trailed over your crossed legs before meeting your teasing expression

"Corny?" he raises an eyebrow, leaning closer "I'll have you know, love, I learned from Shakespeare himself. Though," his hand slides slightly higher on your thigh "perhaps you'd prefer me to be less... poetic?"

His voice drops to a whisper that only you can hear "I could tell you exactly what I plan to do to you later instead. In explicit detail. Would that be less corny for you, my dear?"

Cami returns with your drinks, and Klaus reluctantly pulls back, checking his phone once more

"Perfect timing," he mutters under his breath before raising his glass towards you "To my beautiful girl, who somehow manages to both humble and embolden me with every passing day."

You raise your own with a smile. Sipping your drink, "You know, I didn't expect you to care about Valentine's Day. Though you'd experienced too many of them."

Klaus watches you over the rim of his glass, a thoughtful expression crossing his face

"You're right, love. I've seen countless Valentine's Days come and go," his free hand finds yours, fingers intertwining "But I've never had one worth celebrating before you."

He takes another sip of his bourbon, eyes never leaving yours. "A thousand years of existence, and yet somehow, you make everything feel new again. Even these ridiculous human traditions."

"Ridiculous? That's why you're trying too hard to make it up to me?"

His phone buzzes again, and a satisfied smirk crosses his face.

"Speaking of making it up," he stands, offering his hand "I believe it's time for us to move on to the next part of our evening. Unless," his smirk widens "you'd rather stay here and listen to more of my 'corny' declarations?"

You down your drink, "No, wait, I love this song." You take his hand and stand up, "Dance with me?"

Klaus's expression softens, though there's a flicker of impatience in his eyes as he checks the time. However, one look at your hopeful expression melts any resistance

"How could I possibly deny you anything when you look at me like that?" he pulls you close, one hand settling on your waist while the other holds yours. 

As you sway to the music, Klaus can't help but lean down to whisper into your ear, "You're making it incredibly difficult to stick to my carefully laid plans, darling. But then again," his grip tightens slightly, "you've always had a way of making me lose control of everything I thought I had perfectly arranged."

"Arranged? I thought you'd forgotten?" you tease, swaying along to the music

He spins you once, pulling your back against his chest "I did forget, initially," he admits, pressing a soft kiss to your neck "But did you really think I'd let my oversight stand? I am nothing if not resourceful, love. And the past hour has been... productive."

He spins you again, this time bringing you face-to-face with him

"Besides," his eyes gleam with mischief "I have a reputation to maintain. Can't have people thinking Klaus Mikaelson can't give his girl a proper Valentine's Day, now can we?"

His phone buzzes yet again, and this time he actually growls slightly in frustration

"What's wrong?"

"As much as I'm enjoying having you in my arms, sweetheart, we really should be going."

"See? Told you you're a buzzkill," You tease but reluctantly step back, "okay, let's go"

Klaus narrows his eyes playfully at your teasing, suddenly pulling you back flush against him

"A buzzkill, am I?" his voice drops to that dangerous, seductive tone that he knows affects you "We'll see if you still think that in about..." he checks his watch. "Twenty minutes."

He leaves an impressive tip, guiding you out of Rousseau's, his hand never leaving your waist. As you walk back toward the compound, Klaus seems increasingly antsy, checking his phone repeatedly

"Close your eyes, love," he instructs as you approach the compound's entrance

When you hesitate, he adds with a smirk, "Come now, love. Humor your 'buzzkill' of a boyfriend. I promise it'll be worth it."

"Okay, okay," you say with a smile before closing your eyes, grabbing his arm for stability, "last time someone told me to close my eyes, a snake was placed on me."

Klaus tenses at the mention of Kol's prank, a flash of anger crossing his features

"Ah yes, I remember. Kol spent the next week daggered for that little stunt," his voice carries a dangerous edge before softening as he guides you carefully "I assure you, love, no reptiles await you this time. Though perhaps I should dagger him again, just for good measure..."

He leads you through the courtyard, positioning you exactly where he wants you

"Keep those beautiful eyes closed for just a moment longer, love," his voice is soft with anticipation "And no peeking. I know how curious you get."

There's a rustle of movement around you, and the sound of several people quietly exiting

"Alright, my love," his hands rest on your shoulders from behind, his breath warm against your ear "Open them."

You gasp as you see the sight before you, "What the... Klaus" You whisper, "What's all this?" You ask, a grin slowly creeping its way onto your face as you turn to him

The courtyard has been transformed. Hundreds of twinkling lights hang from above, creating a starlit effect. Dozens of flower pots of various sizes are arranged on tables, already prepped for painting, with an array of paints and brushes laid out. In the center sits an elegant table set for two, complete with champagne and covered dishes. Rose petals are scattered everywhere, and soft music plays in the background.

Klaus's expression softens completely at your reaction, a rare genuine smile gracing his features

"This, my love," he cups your face gently "is me trying to give you both the evening you planned and the one you deserve. You wanted to paint flower pots? Well, now we have an entire collection to decorate. Though I must admit," he gestures to the romantic setting "I may have added a few touches of my own."

"Klaus," you say his name so softly, leaning into his touch

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours

"I know I ruined your original plans with my temper, but I hoped perhaps..." he trails off, showing a rare moment of uncertainty "Well, I hoped this might make up for it. Even the great Klaus Mikaelson can admit when he's been an absolute fool."

He pulls you closer, pressing his forehead against yours "Happy Valentine's Day, my beautiful girl."

"Happy Valentine's Day." You wrap your arms around his neck, "I love you, Klaus"

Klaus's breath catches slightly at your words - even after all this time, hearing you say 'I love you' affects him deeply. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer

"And I love you, Y/N," his voice is thick with emotion, "More than I ever thought possible. More than I probably should."

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, one hand coming up to trace your cheek

"You know," his signature smirk returns, though his eyes remain soft "I had this whole evening perfectly planned out - dinner first, then painting, then dancing under the lights. But seeing you look at me like that..." he leans in, his lips barely brushing yours "makes me want to skip straight to dessert."

You tilt your head back, giggling, "Absolutely not." You poke a finger into his chest, "You went through quite a bit of trouble arranging all this, so perhaps we should at least attempt to follow the schedule?"

You pull his hand excitedly, "let's go!"

Klaus chuckles at your enthusiasm, allowing you to pull him along

"Eager to paint, are we?" he guides you to the table with the flower pots, pulls out a chair for you, and then sits beside you, immediately reaching for your hand

"Choose your pot, darling. Though," his eyes glint mischievously "I should mention that whatever we create tonight will be displayed prominently in the compound. I've already informed my siblings they're not allowed to mock our artistic endeavors, on pain of daggering."

He leans closer, his breath tickling your ear "And yes, before you scold me, I know that's a bit extreme. But I refuse to let anyone diminish something you put your heart into."

You roll your eyes, "Stop including yourself. You know I'm the only one here with shitty artistic abilities" You nudge his shoulder with yours before tying your hair back, "Can we eat while we paint?" you ask, eager to start.

Klaus's eyes follow the movement of your neck as you tie your hair back, momentarily distracted

"Of course, love," he recovers, reaching to uncover the dishes "Though I must disagree about your artistic abilities. Everything you do has its own charm." He smirks "Even if it's not quite up to my thousand years of experience."

He pours you each a glass of champagne, then watches as you select your pot

"Besides," he continues, selecting his own pot "I rather enjoy watching you concentrate. The way you bite your lip when you're focused, how your nose scrunches up when you're not satisfied with something..." he reaches over to tap your nose playfully "It's utterly adorable."

He picks up a brush, dipping it in paint "Now then, shall we see what masterpieces we can create while trying not to spill food on them?"

◞♡ ♡ ◞♡ ♡ ◞♡ ♡ ◞♡ ♡ ◞♡ ♡ ◞♡ ♡ ◞♡ ♡ ◞♡ ♡ ◞♡ ♡

The evening unfolds beautifully, with Klaus and You painting flower pots between bites of gourmet food and sips of champagne. Klaus can't help but steal glances at you throughout the night, enchanted by your concentrated expression and delighted giggles when the paint goes astray. Despite his initial temper earlier in the day, the night transforms into something magical

You both end up with two distinctly different pots - Klaus's displaying intricate designs and professional technique, while yours shows...heartfelt effort and creativity. True to his word, Klaus ensures both are given places of honor in the compound

You looked at Klaus's perfect pot, furrowing your brows. You tilted your head as you looked at my own pot, "Klaus. Be honest. Are my lines wonky?”

Klaus bites his lip, trying desperately to maintain a straight face as he looks at your adorably uneven creation

"Well, love..." he starts diplomatically, wrapping an arm around your waist "I would say they're not so much 'wonky' as they are...uniquely positioned. Besides," he presses a kiss to your temple "straight lines are overrated. Yours has character."

"that's a yes" you groan, running a hand down your face

Klaus can't quite contain his amused smile as you continue to scrutinize your work with such serious concentration

"Though I must say," he murmurs in your ear "watching you furrow your brows like that is making it incredibly difficult to focus on pottery critiques. Perhaps we should move on to the next part of the evening?"

His hand slides lower on your waist "Unless you'd like to continue analyzing your artistic technique, of course."

“Mmm, I'm not done. Give me your hand” I say, putting my own hand out, “palm up”

Klaus raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your request. He places his hand in yours, palm up

"Should I be concerned, love?" he asks with amusement, watching you carefully "The last time someone asked for my hand like this, they were attempting to curse me. Though," his eyes sparkle with mischief, "I doubt your intentions are quite so nefarious."

Klaus is unable to hide his fond smile at how serious she looks

"Shh, don't distract me," you say, taking a brush and painting all over his palm, “just wait”

Klaus watches with uncharacteristic patience, fighting the urge to move as the cool paint tickles his palm. His gaze remained on your face, eyes softening as he watched you concentrate, resisting the urge to curl his fingers, letting you continue her mysterious artwork 

"Should I be preparing myself for a masterpiece or another one of your... uniquely positioned designs, love?"

“You talk too much” you mumble, placing the brush down. You do the same on your own palm but with a different color.

“Okay, place your hand right here” You point to a spot on your pot

Klaus follows your instruction, pressing his painted palm against her pot where indicated, a curious smile playing on his lips

"As you command, my dear," he says softly. As he takes his hand off, you place yours, slightly overlapping his.

When both hands were pulled away, two handprints appear on the pot - one larger, one smaller, creating a surprisingly sweet design

"Ah," Klaus's expression softens completely, understanding dawning in his eyes "Now that, love, is actually rather clever."

"is it?" you ask hopefully with a smile

He looks at your combined handprints, something warm settling in his chest at the sight of your marks together

"It is. Perhaps I was too quick to judge your artistic abilities," he murmurs, pulling you closer with his clean hand "This might be my favorite piece of art in the entire compound."

“Aha!” you point a painted finger at him, “so you were judging my abilities”

Klaus's eyes widen slightly at being caught, before a mischievous grin spreads across his face

"Well, love," he catches your painted finger in his hand "In my defense, your earlier attempts at straight lines were rather..." he pauses, searching for a diplomatic word "distinctive."

Before you can protest, he pulls you closer, deliberately getting paint on you dress

"Though I must say," his voice drops to that seductive tone "watching you catch me in a lie is incredibly attractive. Perhaps I should let you win more often?"

He brings your painted finger to his lips, pressing a kiss to it "Then again, where would be the fun in that?"

As revenge, you press your hand into his shirt, fighting back a giggle.

Klaus's eyes darken playfully as he looks down at the handprint now decorating his henley

"Now that," his voice drops dangerously low "was a declaration of war, my dear."

In one swift movement, he grabs a paintbrush, a predatory gleam in his eyes

"You seem to have forgotten, love, that I'm quite skilled with a brush," he stalks toward you as you back away "And I have centuries of experience in hunting down my prey."

His smirk widens as he corners you against a pillar "Any last words before I exact my revenge?"

“Maybe that…you love me? Try remembering that. and that I love you....so much,” you say, eyes on the brush

Klaus's predatory expression falters for a moment, softening at her words before his signature smirk returns

"Oh, I do love you, my dear," he presses closer "Which is precisely why I know you'll forgive me for this..."

In one quick movement, he swipes the paintbrush across your cheek, leaving a streak of color

"Klaus!"

"There," he murmurs, admiring his handiwork "Now you truly are a work of art."

His free hand comes up to cup your other cheek "Though I must say, you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, even covered in paint."

He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing yours "Perhaps I should add a few more touches? Make you a proper masterpiece?"

“Yeah? Watch this” you whisper before turning your head and smudging your cheeks together, transferring the paint.

Klaus freezes for a split second as your cheeks press together, the cool paint smearing across his skin. A deep, rumbling laugh escapes him—a rare, unfiltered sound of pure amusement that echoes through the courtyard. His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him despite the mess

 "Cheeky little minx, aren't you?" He tilts his head, admiring the matching paint streaks now on both your faces "I should’ve known you’d find a way to weaponize affection. Quite the strategic move, love."

His thumb brushes over the paint on your cheek, smudging it further as his gaze softens "Though I must admit, you wear chaos spectacularly. It’s almost a shame to wash this off."

Before she can respond, he dashes to the paint, dipping his fingers and swirling them dramatically "But if we’re making masterpieces..." he flashes back, dragging a streak of gold down your neck, following the curve of your collarbone with deliberate slowness, earning a gasp "...let’s commit to the theme, shall we?"

"Won't things get...messy?

His laughter fades into a heated whisper as his lips hover near yours "Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll clean every brushstroke off you later... thoroughly."

The courtyard erupts into playful chaos as paint begins flying everywhere. Your laughter echoes through the compound as you chase each other, leaving colorful handprints and streaks on clothes, skin, and occasionally the walls. Klaus, despite his usual composed demeanor, finds himself completely caught up in the childish fun, his clothes, and skin now a canvas of multiple colors

The romantic dinner and careful decorations become collateral damage in the paint war, but neither seems to care. At some point, Kol appears at the balcony to investigate the commotion, only to quickly retreat when Klaus threatens him with a paint-covered brush

The evening ends with both of them...well, you, breathless from laughter, covered head to toe in various colors of paint. The courtyard looks like an abstract expressionist painting exploded, both of your flower pots forgotten amidst the beautiful disaster you've created

Klaus pulls you close, both of you a mess, and whispers against your lips "Perhaps we should continue this in the shower, love?"

“Is that you admitting defeat?"

Klaus's eyes narrow playfully, his painted fingers tightening on your waist

"Klaus Mikaelson never admits defeat, love," he growls softly against your ear "I'm merely suggesting we move this battle to a more... private venue.

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper "Unless you'd prefer to continue our war here? Though I should warn you, darling, my next tactics might not be suitable for public viewing."

You swat his shoulder, "1...2...3...race you!" you yell, running to the stairs. Absolutely futile but completely fun

"Oh, love," he calls out, letting you get a head start just to make it interesting "Racing a vampire? Particularly one as old as me? That's rather bold of you."

He vamp-speeds up the stairs, appearing in front of you with a triumphant smirk, causing her to scream

"Though I must admit," he catches you as you crash into his chest "watching you try is absolutely adorable."

He lifts her you, throwing you over his shoulder, "Klaus!" you scream, unable to stop laughing

"Now then," his eyes darken with desire as he pats your thighs, "shall we discuss the terms of your surrender? Or would you prefer another futile attempt at escape?"

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The evening winds down peacefully, with Klaus and Y/N cleaning up and changing into fresh clothes. They spend the rest of the night curled up together in their room, Klaus sketching while Y/N reads, occasionally exchanging soft kisses and quiet conversations

Their painted flower pots dry on the balcony, including their special handprint creation which Klaus insists will have a permanent place in their room. Despite the chaos and the mess, the Valentine's Day that started roughly ends perfectly - just the two of them, content in each other's company

As Y/N drifts off to sleep in his arms, Klaus watches her with tender affection, thinking about how a thousand years of existence led him to this moment, with this remarkable woman who changed everything for him

The courtyard’s chaos remains untouched come morning. Rebekah scoffs at the mess, Kol places bets on how long until they’re at each other’s throats again, and Elijah quietly orders a cleaning crew. But in your room, Klaus sleeps—actually sleeps—your hand fisted in his still-damp curls. Victory, he’d learn, tastes sweeter in surrender.

The compound may be a mess of paint, but Klaus wouldn't change a single moment of their evening together.

𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹♡ : ̗̀ 𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹♡ : ̗̀ 𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹♡ : ̗̀ 𐙚

Taglist: @ariesandwolves

[dawngyu]

THE ARCHIVE

pairing: choi soobin x reader

"Here. Please read each clause carefully dear."

The papers were handed in your hands, making your heart pound, each beat a hammer striking painfully inside your ribs. Your fingers tremble against the pen, gripping it so tightly your knuckles ache, but the pressure doesn’t help you—nothing ever will. Your eyes trace the final lines, the words smudging under the sting in your eyes.

You have given extensive thought behind your decision and give "Brighter Days Inc." the exclusive permission to remove this person completely from your memory:

☐ Yes ☐ No

warnings: reader discretion is advised. neuro-science fiction au, set in the year 2125, romance, angst, psychological drama, character!death, depression!, anxiety!, stages of grief, flashbacks, self-destructive!reader, self!harm, accidents, everything written is a work of fiction. if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please step back. let me know if I missed anything.

wc: 13k — playlist.

notes: inspired by parts of ariana’s we can’t be friends music video aka eternal sunshine of the spotless mind... concept is there, but the plot itself will take a different path. oh, and buckle up.

a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading this. ilysm.

How shattered must your heart be, to long for oblivion over a name once uttered like a prayer?

"Sweetheart."

Warm hands find your waist, circling you with a gentle pull, long fingers tracing slow, reverent patterns across your bare skin. A soft squeeze follows, then, warm—featherlight kisses trail from your neck to your ear, each one taking time to settle on your skin. Your name slips from his lips, barely more than a breath, before he tucks himself closer, body melting into yours.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

You laugh softly when you feel him press another kiss behind your ear. He always wakes you up like this—unhurried, endlessly affectionate. And no matter how much you loathe early mornings, he somehow makes them worth waking up for.

Turning over, you’re met with his familiar smirk, eyes already tracing every inch of your face like it’s the first time he’s seeing you. His hands find your cheeks, cradling them gently—like he always does. As if he hasn’t held you a thousand times before. As if you haven’t been his to hold since high school.

"It's a crime to be this pretty when you just woke up, don't you think?" he teases, his nose bumping against yours before he gives your lips a quick peck.

"It's too early for your silly jokes, Soobin," you mumble, voice still heavy with sleep as you reach for him, burying your face against his shoulder blades. His warmth is familiar, comforting. Your eyes slip shut again, and he hums softly, his hand tracing slow, soothing patterns on your back.

"I'm not joking," he murmurs.

"Okay," you whisper back, not quite awake but not quite asleep either.

A beat of silence. Then—

"Are you sleeping again?"

"No."

"You’re going to be late."

"Uh-huh."

He exhales a quiet laugh, shifting beside you, and when you finally lift your head, his face is already turned toward you, bathed in the gentle glow of morning. His dimples appear with a smile—one he always saves for you, like tiny craters in the universe of his face. You reach out, pressing a finger into the tiny hollow of his cheek, and his grin only widens.

How does he never grow tired of looking at you like this?

"Come on, let’s eat, yeah?" he coaxes, pinching your cheeks.

You let yourself watch him—watch the way his eyes soften, the way he always waits for you, the way his love sits so effortlessly in the space between you.

"I love you," you whisper.

His fingers brush your cheek, his smile turning impossibly fonder.

"I love you more."

He somehow managed to pull you out of bed, though not without a few sleepy complaints. You lazily threw your hair into a ponytail—an attempt at looking somewhat awake. The moment he caught sight of it, though, laughter spilled from his lips, his dimples deepening with amusement.

“What is this?” he teased, reaching out to play with the loose strands. "A masterpiece of chaos?"

"It's ugly, isn't it?" You pouted, lips jutting out just enough to make his teasing falter. Panic flashed across his face before he quickly cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing over your skin as he pressed frantic kisses all over.

“No. You’re beautiful,” he murmured between each kiss. “Always beautiful.”

You let him win that small battle, if only because the warmth of his touch made surrendering easy.

It's always easy with him.

"Put some butter and milk in it," Soobin says, watching you whisk eggs in a bowl. He’s perched at the kitchen table, chin resting in his hand, his gaze fixed on you as you move around the kitchen. The pancakes on the stove have just started to sizzle.

"You like them better that way," he adds.

"Oh, right!" You laugh, hurrying to grab the missing ingredients from the fridge. You mix them in just the way he likes, and when the pancakes are golden and ready, you set the plates down in front of both of you, fetching the utensils.

"Thank you, love," he hums, cutting into his pancake as you take your first bite. A satisfied groan leaves your lips as the warmth of the food soothes your hunger.

"Nothing beats pancakes for breakfast," you sigh. "You and your obsession with them."

He chuckles, watching you with amusement, his elbow propped on the table and his chin resting in his palm. "Good job, chef."

You roll your eyes, dramatically bowing. "You're welcome."

He grins before his expression softens. "You have plans later, right? Be careful out there, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"And—"

Before he can finish, the sound of the doorbell cuts through the moment.

"I’ll get it," you say, pushing your chair back.

He nods at you with a smile, watching as you disappear toward the door.

You step toward the door of your apartment, fingers curling around the handle before pulling it open.

"Wonyoung, good morning!" you greet with a soft smile, but the way her eyes widen—just for a fraction of a second—doesn’t go unnoticed. She hides it quickly, clearing her throat as she shifts the bags in her hands.

"Morning," she says, stepping inside, her gaze immediately scanning you.

Her gaze sweeps over you, taking in the messy hair, the oversized shirt that’s swallowed you whole—the same one she saw you wearing last time. The deep shadows under your eyes, the pale exhaustion etched into your skin.

"Are you okay?" she asks, careful, cautious.

"Yeah, I am," you answer without hesitation, as if saying it fast enough will make it true. You turn to grab the house slippers meant for her, but your fingers hesitate when you notice Soobin’s slippers still neatly tucked by the door.

He didn’t wear them? But the floor is cold.

Shaking the thought away, you straighten up. "I'm having breakfast with Soobin. We made extra, by the way. You can eat with us."

Silence.

Wonyoung just looks at you, her expression unreadable, her lips parting slightly before closing again. There’s hesitation—pain, even—as if she’s searching for the right words.

"What's wrong—?"

You don’t get to finish.

The bags slip from her hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud as she strides toward you. Before you can react, her arms wrap around you, pulling you in tight. The force of it makes you stumble slightly, but she doesn’t let go. Her grip is desperate, as if she’s holding onto something fragile, something already breaking.

You feel her take a deep, shaking breath before she whispers, voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N… Soobin’s been gone for two years now."

Panic grips you as your breath catches in your throat. Your head snaps toward the table—the very spot where you left him—only to find it empty—a plate of untouched food, sitting there like a ghost.

Everyone in the world fears something—even those who swear they don’t. And at the core of it all, there’s death. It is inevitable and final. It’s like spending years studying, only to fail every job interview. Like working yourself to the bone for months, only to walk away empty-handed. Like pouring your heart into a meal, only to take a bite and realise it tastes terrible.

But for you, fear isn’t just about endings. It isn’t just about pain. What haunts you more than death itself is the thought of being forgotten—or worse, forgetting.

Forgetting is terrifying. Yet, as you sit there, clipping your nailbeds, lost in thought, forgetting made you see him. You saw him this morning, standing there, just as he always had. And without thinking, you breathe.

For that fleeting moment, he’s here. Because you forget that he’s gone.

"Y/N."

You look up from the table, your fingers stiff against the wood. Your mom's eyes are swollen, glassy with unshed tears, rimmed red from exhaustion. She looks at you with so much pity it makes your stomach churn. "Are you even listening to me?"

"I am, Mom."

She exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. "I said we should go back to Dr. Park for another check-up. And maybe… maybe we should finally consider what she’s been recommending—"

"No." Your voice is firm, cutting through the air. "It’s just a waste of money—"

"That’s why I’m working two jobs, dear." Her voice shakes as she reaches for your hands. You flinch, but she doesn’t let go. Her grip is warm, trembling.

"You’ve been hallucinating again." She swallows hard. "I thought time would make it better. I really did." Her breath hitches. "But it’s been two years now. Your dad... he’s sick. He can't even get up on the bed, and—"

"You don't understand, Mom." Your voice trembles as tears well in your eyes. Crying has become second nature—easier than eating, easier than sleeping, easier than existing without him. "How am I supposed to act? I'm trying, I promise I am."

"Y/N." Your mom wipes her own tears, her breath unsteady. "It’s hard for me too. He was my son."

You drop your gaze, staring at the table, at the empty space in front of you, anywhere but at her.

"It haunts me," she whispers, "how deeply he loved you. He’s always here. Always with you. Always worrying about you."

The words steal the air from your lungs. Your chest tightens, the room tilts.

"But do you really think," she continues, voice breaking, "that he wouldn’t understand? That, of all people, he wouldn’t want you to keep going?"

The chair screeches against the floor as you stand abruptly. Your mother flinches at the sound. You turn to leave, but her voice stops you just before you step away.

"He loved you more than his own life," she says softly. "Do you really think it wouldn’t break his heart to see you like this?"

You bite your lip as you step out of your parents' house. Wonyoung had dropped you off earlier, she didn’t trust leaving you alone. No one does anymore. Everywhere you go, people watch you with that same look—pity, like you’re a glass figure they’re waiting to see shatter.

Like you’ll be the next one to disappear.

Your chest tightens as tears prick the corners of your eyes, blurring the edges of the world. A hiccup escapes, sharp and unexpected, and you clamp a hand over your mouth as if that might keep everything else from spilling out. You fumble with the car door, your fingers trembling against the handle. It’s only been three months since you managed to get behind the wheel again, but even now, the familiarity of it feels like a fragile lifeline—something that says I’m still here. I’m still trying.

Two years. Two years since his funeral. Two years since you last stepped into your office. Two years of nights that felt endless, of mornings that felt pointless. Two years of watching the people around you crumble under the weight of your grief, their hearts breaking because yours refuses to heal.

And for two years, the doctors have been whispering the same thing, their voices clinical, detached.

The procedure of erasing him from your memory completely.

Your knuckles whiten around the steering wheel as you pull out of the driveway, heart pounding harder than the engine. Every turn, every streetlight, every crack in the pavement feels like it carries his shadow. But there’s only one place where it feels bearable—one place where you can almost convince yourself he’s still there.

Choi Yeonjun’s eyes swept across your face, taking in the tear-streaked cheeks, the vacant gaze, the way you trembled just standing there. He didn’t say anything, just stepped aside and pushed the door open a little wider. You walked past him, your steps sure, like you were following an invisible thread pulling you toward the one place you needed.

"Do you need anything?" You shook your head. Because what you need isn't here anymore.

And then you slipped inside. His room.

Two years had passed, and Yeonjun never touched a thing. Dust had settled, time had moved forward, but this room remained frozen—trapped in the moment before everything shattered. They had been roommates for years, but after Soobin died, Yeonjun never found the will to replace him. Never found the strength to erase the evidence that he had once been here, that he had once been real.

No one was ever allowed inside.

No one but you.

You crossed the threshold like a sinner entering a church, hands trembling, breath unsteady. And when you sat down on the left side of the bed—his side—your chest caved in as you sob.

This was where he always slept. Where he curled into you on restless nights. Where he pressed sleepy kisses to your temple, murmuring half-formed dreams against your skin. The sheets no longer smelled like him. Time had stolen that, too. But the ceiling above was the same one you woke up to with him beside you, and if you closed your eyes, you could pretend.

Pretend that if you reached out, you’d feel his warmth. Pretend that if you called his name, he’d answer. Pretend that you weren’t alone.

But pretending could only take you so far.

You never found the strength to open the door again. You curled into yourself, gripping the blanket like it could hold you together. And when sleep finally came, it was with his name spilling from your lips.

A name that no longer had a future.

The knocking pulled you from the depths of sleep, insistent. You groaned, the sound barely more than a rasp, your throat raw from last night’s tears. Your eyelids felt swollen, heavy, reluctant to open. "Yeah?"

"It's afternoon," Yeonjun said through the door. His tone was careful, but you could hear the quiet concern woven between the words. "You’ve been sleeping for over twelve hours."

Shit.

You knew that wasn’t normal. But then again, nothing about you had been normal for a long time. Some nights, sleep was a stranger you couldn’t reach no matter how exhausted you were. Other days, it swallowed you whole, dragging you under until the hours blurred into nothingness. Staying in bed felt easier.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, "I'll come out in a minute."

Yeonjun hesitated. You knew he wanted to say something—to tell you that you didn’t have to apologize, that he understood, that he wasn’t judging you. But in the end, he just sighed. "Okay."

You listened as his footsteps retreated down the hall.

With a heavy heart, you forced yourself to move, peeling the blanket away like it weighed a thousand pounds. Every part of you ached—not just physically, but in a way that settled deep into your bones, into the spaces between your ribs. The bathroom mirror reflected a version of you that you barely recognized. Hollow eyes, a face drawn thin by grief, lips pressed into something that was neither a frown nor a smile—just existence. Surviving.

You turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto your face, letting the chill bite into your skin. Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white, as you sucked in a breath.

And then you saw them. On the shelf behind you; Soobin’s shelf.

Your hairbands.

The sight of them made you waver. Because it was proof, wasn’t it? Proof that once, you had a place here. That once, he was here to tease you about leaving them everywhere, to slip them onto his own wrist absentmindedly, to hand them back to you with a laugh.

"You always lose your hairbands, baby."

Soobin's voice was soft and teasing as he pressed lazy kisses along your cheek, your temple, anywhere he could reach. You tried to ignore him, focused on brushing your teeth, but he never made it easy. His hands slipped under your shirt, palms warm against your bare skin, tracing absentminded patterns over your stomach. He always did that—always found some excuse to touch you.

"So," he murmured, grinning against your jaw as he pressed your cheeks to his. "I bought a whole stack of them."

You paused, raising an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. "A whole stack?"

"Mhm." His fingers tightened slightly, possessive. "So now you have one less excuse to leave—and one more reason to come back."

Your hairbands. Like you, were waiting for someone who was never coming back. You shake your head, snapping yourself out of it. Then you heard knocking again. "Yeonjun. I said I’ll be out in a minute."

A pause. Then, softer this time—

"It’s been an hour since you last said that. Are you okay?"

You exhale, the breath shaky, uneven. Time has slipped through your fingers again, and you hadn’t even noticed. But that’s nothing new.

It happens more often than not.

You sit with a book in your lap, determined to do what they say might help—immerse yourself in another world, let fiction be a temporary escape. But you blink, and somehow hours have passed, and you’re still stuck on the same page, the words forgotten.

You eat lunch, fork moving mechanically between your plate and your mouth, only to glance outside and realize the sky has darkened, the day gone without your permission.

You tell yourself you’ll go out, that today, you’ll meet Wonyoung like you promised. You put on your shoes, even grab your coat. But then the door never opens. And before you know it, she’s the one standing there, knocking, asking why you didn’t come—why you never showed up.

You know it’s getting worse. And the worst part? You don’t know how to stop it. You don’t want to stop it.

Because it means moving on.

Moving on has always felt like erasing him. Like accepting a world where Soobin is nothing more than a memory—left behind.

And the thought that one day, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday—everyone, even you, will stop mourning him?

That terrifies you more than anything.

You eat slowly, each bite feeling heavier than the last. Yeonjun had made you bacon and eggs—simple, warm, something that should’ve felt like comfort. But the food is cold now, left waiting for you just like he was. He eats in silence, but you feel it—his eyes keep flickering toward your wrist, checking. He doesn’t say anything.

It yanks you straight back to those first few months after Soobin’s death.

"Y/N?" Yeonjun’s face is sharp with concern as he pushes open the door. He had knocked—once, twice—but you hadn’t answered. That alone was enough to send his heart into a spiral.

"I brought you some food—" His words cut off the moment his eyes land on you. You’re sitting at the edge of the bed, shoulders curled inward, your body eerily still. But then he sees it—your wrist, the red staining your fingers, spilling onto the white sheets like ink bleeding through paper.

His breath catches. And then—

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words tear from his throat again, raw and panicked. The bags slip from his grasp, hitting the floor with a muffled thud, but he doesn’t care. He’s already rushing toward you, dropping to his knees, reaching for your wrist with hands that won’t stop shaking.

“What are you doing?!” He shouts—not out of anger, not at you—but because he’s terrified.

It scares him. God, it scares him. What would his best friend say?

"I—I don’t know," you sob, voice wrecked. Your body trembles under his hold, and the words spill out between uneven breaths. You just saw it and you couldn't stop yourself. "I don’t know what to do anymore."

Yeonjun clenches his jaw, his own tears burning behind his eyes. "You must not do this," He’s trying to be strong for you, but his hands betray him, quivering as they hold onto you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away completely. Because you might. Because you want to. "Please, Y/N. Please."

You were so beautiful in Soobin’s love, and now it clings to you like a disease.

"I know it’s hard," he chokes out, pulling you into his arms. "Fuck, I know. But think of his face." He pleads. "Whenever you see your wrist, whenever you look at your skin—think of him. Do you ever want to hurt him?"

"Jjunie." Yeonjun's eyes lift to meet yours. "You don’t have to keep looking at my wrists anymore,"

A breath leaves him, slow and measured, as if he’s been waiting to hear that. He tries for a smile, small. "It worked like a miracle, didn’t it?"

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "He always is." The smile that flickers across your lips feels foreign, like something borrowed from a version of yourself that no longer exists.

"My dad…" you hesitate, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. "I—I need to go back to work."

Yeonjun watches you carefully, as if afraid you’ll change your mind. He nods. "It’s only about time, Y/N."

Silence stretches between you before he speaks again, voice careful, "Are you considering the treatment?"

You don’t answer.

Yeonjun didn’t kick you out. He never would.

In the afternoon, the two of you sat on the couch—long enough to fit three, but only occupied by two. And yet, without thinking, without speaking, you both left a space between you. A space for him.

Infinity War played on the screen, a movie you’d both seen more times than you could count. It was muscle memory at this point—the dialogue, the fight scenes, the inevitable heartbreak.

The credits rolled, and the room felt heavier.

"Soobin always bawled his eyes out here," you whispered, voice trembling. You laughed, but it cracked in the middle. "Like a baby."

Yeonjun exhaled shakily, his own throat tightening. "It makes me wonder how such a tall man could cry that easily."

You nodded, wiping at your face as tears slipped free. "He’s a loser." Your sob broke through before you could stop it. "He’s my loser."

Yeonjun pressed his lips together, but it was useless. His own tears fell before he could even blink them away. "Fuck," he muttered, voice thick.

Neither of you moved.

Because some absences can never be replaced.

"It's time for you to move on," Yeonjun says, his voice steady but careful. "You tried going back to work, but you can’t. You should be out there, living your life."

A fresh wave of grief crashes over you. "It feels like I'm betraying him, Jun." Your voice breaks, and before you know it, you're fully sobbing, the weight of it pressing down on your chest like it might crush you.

Yeonjun exhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists. "I feel like he's going to haunt me any day now for letting you stay like this, and he'd probably call me an idiot for not shaking some sense into you sooner." he half-jokes, but it’s bitter. It’s pained. The two of you laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, dies as quickly as it comes.

"But if you're worried about him—about who will take care of his… grave," Yeonjun hesitates as if the word itself could break you. "I promise, I’ll do that. His family will, too. He won’t be forgotten, Y/N. Ever." You hate it. Hate that he’s making sense. Hate that every word he says feels like it's prying you away from Soobin, piece by piece.

"Your father, your mother, your siblings... they need you back," he presses on, his voice gentler now. "And you… you need to go on with your life. That treatment, it’s the only thing that can help you now."

You shake your head, barely able to breathe between the sobs. "I can't let him go."

Yeonjun swallows hard, his hands trembling as they reach for yours. "You’re not letting him go," he whispers. "He's already gone."

And then, softer, like he’s begging, "And I know, if he were here… to talk to you one last time, he would beg you to keep living."

It took him two years to say it, but Yeonjun cried with you that day, his own grief spilling over as you sobbed into the worn-out cushions of the sofa. Because he, too, was once afraid—to let go, to move forward. But he knows now, knows in the deepest part of himself, that Soobin, the kindest soul he had ever met, the person who loved you deeply, would understand.

Yeonjun will spend his lifetime visiting Soobin’s grave, honouring him in the quiet ways he can. For Soobin. For you.

Even if he has a family of his own one day. Even if his hair turns grey, and his legs grow too weak to stand. Even then, he will still go. And he’ll pass that promise down to his children, to his grandchildren, so that Soobin’s name is never forgotten.

But if he lets you waste away like this, there will be no future to carry on. And the guilt would eat him alive because Yeonjun knows—more than anyone—what Soobin would have wanted.

It’s cruel, cruel that he had to pull the names of your family into this, had to remind you of the people who are still waiting for you to come home. But it’s the truth. And if you can’t find the strength to fight for yourself, then at least let them be the reason you try.

You step out of the car, your breath hitching as your eyes sweep over the familiar neighbourhood—the one you used to visit so often, the one that once felt like a second home. Now, after two years, it feels like stepping into a past life.

"Y/N!"

You barely have time to react before Soobin’s older sister is pulling you into her arms, her laugh warm, her embrace familiar. It nearly unravels you.

"I missed you," she murmurs.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I missed you too, unnie."

And then your eyes land on the small boy in her arms—the baby who was just two the last time you saw him. Now four, grown but still soft with childhood. His wobbly cheeks, the way his dimples deepen when he shifts shyly under your gaze—

It’s too much.

"Hi," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hi," he replies, eyes wide, cheeks flushing as he clings closer to his mother.

You look away. Because he looks too much like him. Because for a second, your mind plays cruel tricks, and you almost convince yourself that if you just turn your head, Soobin will be right there, smiling at you like he used to.

But he's not. He never will be.

"Come inside," his sister says gently, as if she understands the storm inside you. "Mom knows you’re here." And you nod, forcing your feet to move, even as your heart screams for you to turn back.

In the first month after Soobin was gone, his mother stayed by your side. She held you as you cried, made sure you ate, whispered that she understood, because she had lost him too.

In the following months, she kept visiting, kept checking in. But as time passed, she began to pull away. Subtly, at first. The visits became less frequent, the calls shorter. And then, one day, they stopped altogether. Your messages, your calls—they went unanswered. His family, the people you once thought of as your own, had slowly closed their doors to you.

Except for his sister.

She leads you inside, her expression unreadable as she gestures toward the dining table.

And there she is. The woman you once called mother.

"Mother," you bow, the word slipping from your lips before you can stop it.

She doesn’t even turn to look at you. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" Her voice is clipped, distant. "And why are you here?"

You swallow, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. "Because I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk to you."

Finally, she rises from her chair, her gaze locking onto yours. And it is nothing like before. It is cold. Empty. Unforgiving.

“Get out, Y/N,” she says, her voice devoid of warmth. “Don’t come here anymore.” Your chest tightens. You don’t even realize your hands have started shaking.

"Mom, don't be like this," Soobin's sister cuts in, her voice soft but firm.

And for just a moment—a brief, moment—you see it. The way her lips press together. The way her shoulders tense. The way her eyes, for just a second, glisten as though they, too, are on the verge of breaking. She blinks the tears away before they can fall, turning away from you, like it’s the only way she can keep standing. She walks away without any second glance.

“I’m sorry,” Soobin’s sister whispers.

You force yourself to smile, though it trembles on your lips. “It’s okay,” you murmur. “I just… I just really need to talk to her.”

You spent the hour with Soobin’s sister, unraveling everything you had kept inside. Every dark thought, every ounce of guilt, every desperate attempt to hold onto him. And she listened. She held your hand, pulled you into her arms.

But time moves forward, even when you don’t want it to.

You check the clock, exhaling. “I’m going to try talking to her again. I have plans after this, too.” She doesn’t stop you. But the way she squeezes your hand before letting go, it’s as if she knows how much this is going to hurt.

As you walk through the house, memories seep into every corner. His presence is everywhere. The framed pictures lined the walls, the dent in the couch where he used to sit. It’s overwhelming. It steals the breath from your lungs, forcing you to press a hand to your chest just to steady yourself.

You don’t belong here anymore. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to leave.

The kitchen light is on. The soft rhythm of a knife against the cutting board fills the silence.

She’s there.

Soobin’s mother stands at the counter, slicing vegetables with practised precision. You swallow, stepping forward, trying to find your voice. She doesn’t look up.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

"Mom, I missed you." Your voice trembles, barely above a whisper, and for a moment, her hands still. The steady chopping ceases, but she doesn’t turn. She keeps her back to you, her shoulders rising and falling with each controlled breath. "I came here because… I wanted to let you know that I think it’s time. I’m going to get the treatment."

Your own arms wrap around yourself, as if bracing against the cold creeping into your bones. "It will alter my memory. There’s big a chance I’ll forget you, too."

The words shatter something inside you. "But I wanted to say it—just one last time. Thank you. For everything. For giving birth to Soobin. For raising him into someone who could love me so deeply, who made me feel safe, who made me feel like I belonged here. Thank you for accepting me, for loving me. And I love you. I always will. I just… I just hope you can forgive me for what I’m about to do."

At your last words, she turns. And for the first time in a year, you see it—the grief she’s buried, the pain she’s carried alone. Her eyes, red and wet, spill over as she closes the space between you, pulling you into her arms.

You don’t hold back. You collapse into her, sobs wracking through your body as she holds you like she used to. As if you were still hers. As if you always would be.

Her hands run soothingly over your back, her voice breaking. "My daughter… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through this."

She clutches you tighter. "I thought… if I pushed you away, if I kept my distance, maybe you’d find a way to stand on your own. I thought if I pushed you away, maybe it would force you to move forward. Maybe it would break whatever was keeping you trapped in the past. It felt like it was my fault you couldn’t move on. Our fault. That the love my son left behind has been anchoring you instead of lifting you. And I’ve been so afraid, afraid that his love, instead of saving you would destroy you." She cries, "I prayed for you every single day. That you would find the courage. That you would choose to keep going."

You shake your head against her shoulder, your grip on her tightening. "I understand. I do. I just—" Your breath hitches. "I’m scared. I’m scared to forget him."

She exhales shakily, her lips pressing against your hair. "Forgetting… it’s easier than suffering for the rest of your life." Her hands cup your face, her thumbs brushing the tears away even as her own continue to fall.

"You won’t lose him. Not really. Whatever Soobin left in this world, it’s you." Your breath shudders as she presses a kiss to your forehead.

"I want you to live, sweetheart. To build a life that he would be proud of. A new one, filled with love, with hope. And maybe, one day, we’ll meet again—whether you remember me or not. And even then, I will love you. Always. Just like he did."

It was a hard goodbye—one that clung to your skin like the scent of home you’d never return to. Their arms around you had been warm, their voices soft, their smiles trembling. And as you drove away, watching Soobin’s family grow smaller in the rearview mirror, you forced yourself to smile, to wave back.

But the moment they faded from sight, the mask crumbled.

Your hands tightened around the wheel as your breath hitched, but it was useless. You pulled over, burying your face in your palms, sobs wracking your body.

You knew you would never see them again.

A shuddering breath escaped you as you wiped your tears with shaking fingers, swallowing against the grief clawing at your throat. You couldn’t fall apart now. Not yet.

Because there was still one more goodbye to say.One more person waiting for you. One who had left but never truly rested. Because for two years, you hadn’t found the courage to let go.

To free him.

You don’t know how you managed to bring yourself here. Your legs felt heavy the whole way, like they knew what your heart refused to accept—that every step forward was another step closer to goodbye.

The grave is pristine, not a speck of dust in sight. Someone else had been here. Someone else still comes. And for a moment, a tiny splinter of relief wedges itself into your grief. He’s being cared for, even without you.

You stand there, your throat tightening, your lips parting—then closing again. The words are trapped somewhere deep inside you, tangled between the memories and the pain. What do you even say? How do you speak when just looking at his name carved into stone is enough to make your chest cave in? How do you even start? What do you say to someone who can’t answer back?

And then your eyes fall to the base of the headstone. White roses. Fresh. Untouched.

Your breath stumbles.

White roses—his favourite. The same ones he gave you that night, trembling fingers offering a bouquet, his eyes filled with so much hope. Now, they sit beside his grave, a brutal echo of the past.

And you wonder—when did forever become something so short?

You swallow hard. "Hey," you whisper. Just one word, and already, you feel yourself crying. "Are you somewhere nice?"

"I really… I really hope you are," your voice trembles, your vision blurring. "God, I cry so easily now. You’d tease me for it, wouldn’t you?" A broken laugh escapes your lips, but it fades as quickly as it came. "I’m nothing like the person you knew. I'm not that woman anymore. I’ve changed." You take a shuddering breath. "All because you left me."

The confession spills out before you can stop it, "You left me here alone, and I didn’t know what to do. Because you were my world, and our plans—" Your voice cracks. You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. "No. No, Soobin. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry."

Your knees buckle, and you let them. You fold into yourself, pressing your palms against your face as the sobs finally come, wrenching their way out of you. "I’m weak," you choke out. "I’ve been nothing but weak without you."

Time slips away. You don’t know how long you sit there, trembling, letting everything have its way with you. At some point, people come and go, visiting the graves nearby. They stay for a while, whispering prayers, placing flowers, saying their goodbyes. And then, one by one, they leave.

But you don’t.

Because you know—this is the last time you’ll ever be here.

What does it truly mean to forget?

Is it letting go of the bad memories, even if it means losing the lessons they left behind? Erasing the trauma, even if it forged the strength that kept you standing? Wiping away the heartbreak, even if it unmade the love that once felt endless? If forgetting means unravelling the version of yourself shaped by every moment... then is it really freedom? Or is it just another kind of loss?

And if you don’t forget—who carries the weight of those memories with you? The nights spent in quiet conversation, the laughter that once echoed in familiar streets, the warmth of his hand in yours. Does one painful ending justify the erasure of everything that came before?

It doesn’t. Because memories do not vanish. They are not erased like ink wiped clean from a page.

The streets still remember the way you walked together. The wind still hums with the echoes of his voice. The people who once saw your love still hold its remnants, even in passing glances. And perhaps, this is the only way to keep it beautiful. Your memories, deserve to be left as they are. You should not taint it any further.

"I decided to do it," you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the wind. "I’m finally doing it, love. It took me so long, but… I will."

"I don't want you to think that I'll forget you. Because you're my life." A shaky breath escapes your lips, your fingers tracing the edge of cold stone as if it were his hand, warm and real, just one last time. "But you don’t have to worry about me anymore," you murmur. "You can rest now."

Your eyes lift, meeting the name carved into eternity—Choi Soobin. A tear slips down your cheek, catching on your lips as you whisper, broken and raw—

"I love you. And I’m sorry."

Sorry that it took this long. Sorry that you held on when you should have let go. Sorry that no matter how much time passes, some wounds never really heal.

Your wounds will never heal.

The overhead lights burn against your swollen eyes. You blink, but it only makes the sting worse. You thought they would’ve dried by now. That at some point, your body would just refuse to keep grieving.

Do people have a limit? Is there a point where you simply run out? Or does the body just keep producing sorrow, as long as there’s pain to feed it? Has anyone in history ever cried so much that their body just… gave up?

Maybe not.

Or maybe, if you stay like this long enough, you’ll be the first. Because this is all you know how to do now.

Cry. Cry for him. Cry for yourself.

Cry because it’s the only thing that makes the weight in your chest feel even a little less suffocating. Because if you stop, even for a moment, you’re terrified you’ll realise just how empty the world is without him in it.

You're not strong enough.

"Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?" Your mother’s hand is warm as she pats your back, enough for you to let out a breath you were holding.

"Yeah," you whisper. "You can wait for me in the waiting area." Your eyes flicker toward the entrance as another person steps in. She carries a box, full of things and when your gaze meets hers, you swear you see your own reflection staring back.

Haunted.

Your own box grows heavier in your hands.

"I’m a big girl, you know," you murmur, forcing the words out as if saying them makes them true.

Your mother gives you a small smile before kissing your cheek. "I’ll be here," she says softly. "After all of this, I’ll be here to pick you up."

Something tightens in your chest. Such simple words, so ordinary, yet they make your throat close up. One less worry, a hundred more to carry.

But she’ll be here after.

No matter what happens behind those doors, no matter how much of you is left when it’s over—your mother will be here, waiting on the other side.

And that should be enough, right?

You take a step. Then another. Three steps before something in you falters, pulling you back. You turn around, and your mother, standing right where you left her. Her eyes meet yours, and one of them glistens now, like she’s holding something back. She’s trying to be strong for you.

"Does it have to be today, Mom?" Your voice wavers, barely above a whisper. "I mean… can we, can we just—" The words die in your throat. You swallow hard. You promised him.

You promised.

And if you don’t do it today… you might never do it at all.

“Honey, we can always come back.” Your mother’s voice is soft. She’s in front of you now, hands warm on your shoulders. “We can reschedule, and—”

“It’s fine.” You shake your head, refusing to meet her eyes. If you look at her, if you see the way she’s looking at you, you might shatter right here, in front of her. So you turn away. The door is just a few steps ahead. White. Sterile. All you have to do is cross it. You can do it. You have to do it. Because—

You promised him.

"Miss Y/N?" The sound of your name barely registers. You don’t even remember sitting down. One moment, you were outside and now—now you’re here. In this cold, sterile waiting room, surrounded by people clutching their own silent burdens. Boxes. Everyone has one. Resting on their laps. Some are dressed in stiff work clothes, like they came straight from their jobs. Others wear the softness of home... sweatshirts, slippers, a kind of exhaustion that no amount of rest could ever fix.

No one speaks.

No one looks at each other for too long.

It doesn’t matter where you came from. It doesn’t matter who you were before this moment.

You’re all here for the same reason.

"You need to sign the waiver. Please read each clause carefully dear. The nurse will call you once it's your turn." The papers were handed in your hands, making your heart pound, each beat a hammer striking painfully inside your ribs. The relentless ticking of the clock thumps in your ears, a fierce reminder of the gravity of what you’re about to do. Your fingers tremble against the pen, gripping it so tightly your knuckles ache, but the pressure doesn’t help you—nothing ever will.

You sigh, biting your lip so hard you taste a bit of blood. Your stare drifts ahead, settling on a woman a few seats away. Her eyes are red, swollen. She isn’t crying anymore, but she looks like she hasn’t stopped in days.

You follow her stare, down to the box in her lap. It’s small. Too small. A bib, baby rattles, tiny clothes meant for someone who never even saw their first birthday. Your throat tightens. You force yourself to look away. Swallowing hard, you check your own papers. Your box sits beside you, shut tight. Your mother had suggested covering it with a cloth—to make it easier, to keep you from looking at it. And it worked. Because if you had to see what was inside…

You don’t know if you’d still be here.

Your hands tremble as you stare down at the waiver, the words blurring in and out of focus. You read the clauses again. And again. And again. Your eyes trace the final lines, the words smudging under the sting in your eyes.

You have given extensive thought behind your decision and give "Brighter Days Inc." the exclusive permission to remove this person completely from your memory:

☐ Yes ☐ No

You shakily checked what you knew... he'd want for you. You need to think this is what he would've wanted.

“Y/N?” The nurse’s voice is gentle, but it still makes you flinch. She stands in the doorway, dressed in white, looking at you. You wipe away a tear, but another one slips free before you can stop it. “You can come inside now.”

“Okay,” Your legs barely carry you as you stand. Your trembling hands clutch the box, holding it so tightly.

Inside, the room is cold, sterile. Three people wait—one dressed in blue, one who looks like the doctor, and the nurse who fetched you. The chair in the middle looms, surrounded by wires, screens filled with numbers and statistics you don’t understand. But the moment your eyes land on the headrest, on the equipment waiting there—your stomach drops. Your body moves before you can think. A step back, then another, until a hand gently stops you.

The nurse reaches for your box. Your fingers twitch as they slip away from it, “Let’s get you on the chair,” she says softly. You nod. You don’t trust yourself to speak. You started crying again. Not with sound, not with sobs... just endless, silent tears slipping down your face, one after the other.

No one tells you to stop crying. No one even reacts. You wonder how many people they’ve seen like this.

How many they’ve seen as wrecked as you.

Her hands are warm against your shaking ones, steadying you just enough to guide you down into the chair. You let her. You don’t have the strength to resist. The doctor moves quickly, securing straps around you—across your wrists, your chest. Another band wraps around your finger, likely for your heartbeat. It’s already racing. You don’t need a machine to tell you that. The person in blue starts placing wires against your temple, the cold press of metal settling on the right side of your head. It sends a shiver through you, but you don’t move.

You barely breathe.

“Okay, so now—” The doctor’s voice is calm, clinical. “As you’ve read, you’ll need to recall the moments tied to the things you brought. We asked you to choose items that hold the strongest memories because only then can they be altered. These machines will help bring them to the surface. You don’t have to force it—we’ll go slow, one step at a time.” A pause. “Are you ready?”

Your throat closes. Your hands curl into weak fists against the armrests. All you can do is nod.

The man in blue moves quietly. You barely notice him at first, lost in the weight pressing down on your chest—until he reaches for your box. The cloth is lifted. Your breath catches.

The first item is pulled free, and the moment your eyes land on it, something inside you crumbles. "Wa-wait," A sob rips through you, raw and unrestrained, your whole body trembling. The nurse kneels beside you, her eyes unbearably soft, understanding. "It will be much easier after this," she murmurs.

You swallow back another sob, hiccupping through shallow, gasping breaths. It's ridiculous, isn’t it? That at your weakest, you're placing your trust in strangers. That you can't even find the strength to speak. But this isn’t for you.

For him. For your family.

For him.

Your nails dig into the synthetic material on the armrest. You close your eyes, surrendering to their instructions, to the machines humming around you. A sharp beep echoes in the room, signalling the process to begin. A single tear slips free, tracing a path down your cheek, and despite the agony twisting in your chest, you manage the smallest, most broken smile because you see his face.

Memories. It all flashes.

THE PEN

"Let's take a 30-minute break, and then we'll go over the discussion again, okay?" Your ten-year-old eyes lock onto your homeroom teacher, a sigh slipping past your lips. Math has never been kind to you. Numbers blur together, equations twist into impossible knots in your head. If you had it your way, subjects like this wouldn’t even exist. You’d much rather read—preferably a hundred books. Or better yet, a hundred manga.

You reach for your bag, already deciding that a "break" means exactly that. No memorizing. No thinking about numbers. Your brain deserves rest. With a small pout, you pull out your current manga, flipping through the worn pages with practiced ease.

Your friends prefer watching anime, gathering around their phones or talking about the latest episodes. But your mom—she's strict about screen time. Too much of it, she says, will rot your brain. So, you stick to reading. At first, it was just a substitute, a way to keep up with your friends. But over time, it grew on you.

You're barely on the second page when a shadow falls over your desk.

"Uh, Y/N? Do you have, uh… an extra pen?"

You glance up, mildly irritated at the interruption, only to be met with the tallest boy in your class—Choi Soobin. A transfer student. You’ve only been classmates for a few months, and until now, you’ve barely spoken.

"I don’t," you reply flatly.

His eyes dart to your open pencil case, where at least five pens sit in plain sight. "But… you have so many," he points out, looking almost betrayed. "Please? I swear I’ll give it back!"

You sigh, flipping another page of your manga, already regretting this conversation. "Fine."

He grins, reaching straight for the glitter pen.

"Not that one—" Your head snaps up. "That’s off-limits, it’s my favourit—"

"Wait, is that Inuyasha?!" His voice practically jumps an octave, eyes wide with excitement as he plops down in the seat beside you without a second thought. "I love this series! I read them all the time!"

Your annoyance falters, replaced by something close to surprise. You glance at him, then at your manga, then back at him. "It’s my favourite," you say, flipping the page. "I have all the volumes."

His eyes widen. "Whoa. Lend me some?"

You raise a brow. "And what do I get in return?"

"Uh… strawberry milk?"

"I hate strawberries."

"Hand massages?"

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. "I’ll think about it."

He nods eagerly, leaning in a little. "Okay, but—serious question. Kikyo or Kagome?"

"Kagome," you answer without hesitation. "I pity her." At that, he studies your face.

"But Kikyo…" he murmurs, gaze dropping for a second. "I pity her more." His voice is softer now, "Because she doesn’t get to be with Inuyasha anymore. And I think… that’s sad."

For ten whole minutes, the two of you went back and forth—voices overlapping, hands flying in exasperation—until your classmates abandoned all pretence of studying just to watch. Some whispered bets under their breath, stifling laughs as you and Soobin yapped at each other like two kids fighting over the last piece of candy.

And then, finally, Soobin sighed, slumping in defeat. "But at the end of the day," he muttered, rubbing his temple, "Kikyo is Kagome, right?"

You scoff, shaking your head. "That’s not how it works." You roll your eyes, turning back to your manga. "Loser,"

And then—he laughs. Not just a chuckle. A real laugh, the kind that makes his eyes scrunch up until they almost disappear, deep crinkles forming at the corners. His dimples dig so deep it’s like someone pressed a pencil into a soft dough, and his cheeks, full and round, look annoyingly pinchable. You catch yourself staring, warmth crawls up your neck, spreading to your ears.

That day, for the first time, you let someone else use your glitter pen.

THE POLAROID CAMERA

Your feet dangle lazily in the air as you scribble in your notebook, your laptop propped open in front of you. You scroll through pages, searching for answers, when a notification pops up.

Meet me at the playground?

You sigh, fingers hovering over the keyboard. But I’m doing homework…

I’ll let you copy mine.

Your lips twitch. Okay. Be there in 10 minutes.

Excitement bubbles in your chest as you throw on a hoodie and a pair of shorts, not even bothering to check if they match. You bound down the stairs, brushing past your mom just as she calls after you. "Be careful—!"

"I’m meeting Binnie, Mom!" you shout over your shoulder. Her resolve crumbles instantly. She sighs, but there’s a small smile in her voice as she mutters, “Be home before dark!”

The walk to the playground is short. When you arrive, you spot Soobin awkwardly lingering by the swings, kicking at the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

"Soobin!" His head snaps up, and the moment he sees you, a grin spreads across his face.

It’s been three years since you first met, three years of him becoming your best friend. Everyone at school knows it. High school doesn’t feel as scary because he’s always there—hovering, teasing, sticking by your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. People assume you’re together, which is ridiculous. He’s your best friend. Sure, he goes everywhere with you, sure, you’ve fallen asleep on the same couch during sleepovers, sure, his family adores you, and your mom—well, sometimes it feels like she likes him more than she likes you. But again, he's your best friend.

You slow your pace, tilting your head playfully. "What’s up? Finally giving in and letting me copy your homework?" You wiggle your eyebrows, smirking as you catch the faint pink dusting his cheeks—something that happens more and more these days.

But instead of rolling his eyes or firing back with a sarcastic remark, he just exhales. "Happy birthday," he says. "Happy 13th birthday."

Before you can react, he holds out a neatly wrapped box. Confused, you take it, fingers fumbling with the ribbon before you lift the lid. Inside, is a brand-new Polaroid camera. The exact one you’ve been rambling about for weeks. You gape at him. "No way."

Soobin shrugs, scratching the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. "You wouldn’t shut up about it," he mumbles. "Figured it’d be easier to just get you one instead of listening to you whine forever."

Your throat tightens, something warm spreading through your chest. You can't stop yourself from hugging him. His hands stilling on his sides. "Shut up," you whisper. "And thank you."

If you weren’t pressed against him, your face buried in the fabric of his hoodie, the hoodie you gifted him, you would’ve seen the deep flush creeping up his neck, turning his cheeks a fierce shade of red.

THE TEDDY BEAR

“Stop staring.” You nudge his foot under the table, twirling the lollipop in your mouth—the strawberry ones. You used to hate the flavour, the fruit too, but it was impossible to keep up when it’s his favourite. “Am I ugly or something?”

Soobin hasn’t stopped looking at you since you showed up at his house. Not the kind of stare that lingers, but the kind that keeps sneaking glances every five minutes, like he can’t help it.

You cut your hair. The long strands that used to reach your back now barely brush your shoulders. Because I’m turning 18 tomorrow, you told him earlier. And of course, he laughed.

“Okay, okay,” he finally says, chuckling. You’re sprawled out on his bed now, while he’s still at his desk, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Do you wanna sleep over tonight?”

You freeze. Hands dropping from your face, you stare at him. “Why?” you ask, voice laced with suspicion. “Seriously? I’ve spent the midnight of my birthday with you for almost… five years now?”

“Four years.” — “What?”

“It’s four, not five.” He pushes up his reading glasses—the ones that somehow make him look even more handsome. Not that you’d ever admit it. He leans back in his chair, casual as ever. “Stay over, okay? Let’s play League.”

You scoff. “So you can bully me the whole time? Yeah, no thanks.”

“I’ll go easy on you.”

You grab a pillow and chuck it at him. He catches it effortlessly, smirking. “That’s worse!”

You stayed. One pout from him, and you caved. You acted annoyed, but in truth, you just didn’t want him to know how easily he could sway you. You will do anything to hide the fact that he had you wrapped around his finger, whether he knew it or not.

And so, you played. You laughed until your stomach hurt, cursed loud enough that Soobin’s sister pounded on the door, yelling at you both to shut up. But it didn’t matter. Nothing outside that room ever really did when it was just the two of you.

Your birthdays used to be simple, just another day with family, another year passing by. But ever since Soobin came along, they became something special. Something that felt irreplaceable. And the thought of him not being there, of waking up to a birthday where he wasn’t the first person you saw, made your throat tighten in a way you couldn’t explain.

Maybe you didn’t want to explain it. Maybe you were scared to.

"Let's go out to the balcony," he says, shutting off his computer with a final click. You glance at the clock—11:45 PM. Fifteen minutes till you turn eighteen.

"Why?"

"Just because." He nudges you forward, hands settling on your shoulders, his touch impossibly light. No matter how much taller or broader he’s gotten over the years, he never holds you too tightly. It’s always careful. And that’s why your heart stutters in your chest every time.

You step outside, the night air crisp against your skin. The trees sway below, dark silhouettes against the dim glow of the streetlights. You wrap your arms around yourself, glancing at him. "So… are we spending my birthday just standing here?" you tease. "Shouldn't we be doing something? Eating ice cream, maybe?"

He smiles, "We’ll do that after," he says, already stepping back inside. "Wait here."

You're confused as he leaves you outside. Through the thin curtain, you see his shadow moving; shuffling, hesitating. "Soobin, don’t tell me you got me a cake or something," you call out, teasing. He doesn’t answer right away, and that alone makes you smirk. "So you did get me a cake."

"Sh—no. Yes. Ugh, I hate you," he groans, but when he steps out, there it is, a cake in his hands, eighteen candles flickering in the night breeze. He clears his throat, awkwardly starting, "Happy birthday to you…" His voice is unsure, barely above a murmur, but it’s enough. You smile, and as cheesy as it sounds, your heart clenches in your chest. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of the moment settle over you.

Please let forever be like this.

You blow out the candles, and when you open your eyes, he’s grinning. "I baked this, by the way."

"Wow, looks amazing," you breathe, taking the cake from him. The effort, the slightly uneven letters of your name written on top—it makes your throat tighten. You don’t say anything, just sit down beside him, forks in hand, digging straight into the cake. The wind picks up slightly, ruffling your hair, but neither of you cares. You talk, laugh, and steal bites from each other’s sides, like time doesn’t exist.

"Y/N," he says, your name rolling off his tongue softer than usual. His gaze lingers, watching as you hug the big white teddy bear he got you. Your fingers clutch the plush fur, cheeks pressed against it, lips curled into a quiet, content smile.

His chest tightens.

"Eight years... For eight years, I, I've been," He falters, blinking, momentarily losing himself in the way your eyes widen at him. God. You’re beautiful.

"Hmm?"

He exhales sharply, fingers twitching at his sides. His heartbeat stumbles over itself, but before he can think, before he can think of the script he rehearsed over and over, before he can convince himself to hold back—

"Could I please be your boyfriend?"

THE SILVER METAL BAND

"Sweetheart."

Warm hands find your waist, circling you with a gentle pull, long fingers tracing slow, reverent patterns across your bare skin. A soft squeeze follows, then, warm—featherlight kisses trail from your neck to your ear, each one taking time to settle on your skin. Your name slips from his lips, barely more than a breath, before he tucks himself closer, body melting into yours. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's almost midnight,"

You laugh softly when you feel him press another kiss behind your ear. Turning over, you’re met with his familiar smirk, eyes already tracing every inch of your face like it’s the first time he’s seeing you. His hands find your cheeks, cradling them gently—like he always does. As if he hasn’t held you a thousand times before. As if you haven’t been his to hold since high school.

"It's a crime to be this pretty when you just woke up, don't you think?" he teases, his nose bumping against yours before he gives your lips a quick peck. "I love looking at you,"

"We're seriously keeping up with the tradition?" you mumble, voice still heavy with sleep as you reach for him, burying your face against his shoulder blades. Your eyes slip shut again, and he hums softly, his hand tracing slow, soothing patterns on your back.

"Happy 25th birthday, baby," he murmurs. Then, softer—like he’s letting the words settle between you before he dares breathe again, "I love you." His voice pulls you from the edges of sleep, and when your eyes flutter open, you find him already watching you.

Is there anything in this world more beautiful than love? More sacred than being loved?

"Thank you," you reply, smiling. He sits up beside you, and you chuckle softly as he fumbles for something on the floor beside the bed. "What did you get me this time?"

But then your breath stumbles. White roses. A small black box in his hands. Your heart clenches. "Soobin,"

"I’ve been thinking about how I should do this," he starts, chuckling nervously, though his fingers tighten around the box as if anchoring himself. "I thought about renting a place, throwing a party, taking you to some fancy dinner, or even an overseas trip." His gaze finds yours, earnest. "But the truth is, nothing makes me happier than waking up beside you. Nothing feels more right than this—just us, here, like this. So I chose this moment, this place… because I want it forever."

His voice trembles, his hands unfolding the box before you. The silver ring with a single diamond sitting atop. "So please," he whispers, his throat tight, his eyes searching yours. "Could you—will you—marry me?"

“Fuck.” The word rips from your throat as reality slams into you. The room is chaos—voices rising, bodies moving, the cold bite of metal and plastic pressing against your skin. The doctor’s hands fly across his keyboard, adjusting something you don’t understand, while the nurse grips your shoulders like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You’re crying.

You don’t remember when it started, but the tears won’t stop. Your breath comes in sharp, panicked gasps as your hands scramble to your chest, fingers clutching desperately at the thin chain around your neck. The ring is warm against your skin, pressed into your palm, solid and real. His ring. The one he slid onto your finger with shaking hands.

“Please,” your voice cracks, “please—just let me keep this.”

The nurse exchanges a glance with the doctor. Their hesitation is suffocating. “We need to take it,” someone says—calm, detached. Like this is just another part of the process. Like it doesn’t matter. “It goes with the rest of your belongings.”

Your heart seizes. The box? What else was in the box? You try to remember, but your mind is a blur of static, you can't. You can't remember now. “No,” you sob, curling around it, pressing it to your lips, your chest, anywhere that might keep it safe. “Please. Not this."

The nurse looks at you with something that almost feels like pity. A softness in her eyes that only makes your chest ache more. “You’re almost done, honey,” she murmurs, her voice gentle, coaxing. “A little more. You can do this. Just close your eyes. You just have to close your eyes.” Your hands won’t stop shaking. The tremors run up your arms, through your ribs, settling somewhere deep in your throat. You feel the prick of a needle, the slow push of something cold into your veins. It soothes the sharp edges, dulls the panic—but not enough. Not enough to stop the tears from slipping down your cheeks. “Close your eyes,” she whispers again.

You do.

Your hands are in his. The car hums beneath you, the city lights flashing by in a blur, but all you can focus on is him. He drives with one hand, the other wrapped around yours, bringing it to his lips every time you hit a red light. Soft, lingering kisses against your knuckles, “How many babies would you want?”

You nearly choke on your drink, coughing as you turn to him. “What?”

He laughs, eyes flicking toward you for just a second before focusing back on the road. “I mean… I’d love as many as we can have. But of course, it’s your body, baby. You get to tell me.”

Your heart flutters. “We don’t even have a wedding date yet.” Another red light. Another kiss against your hand.

“I know,” he says, voice softer now. “It just crossed my mind. Last night, I dreamt of a little girl… she looked just like you.” He pauses, his thumb brushing against your skin. “She was so beautiful. Like you. And I—”

His words are cut off by the violent, shattering force of metal colliding with metal. The world twists—spins—flips. A scream rips from your throat as the car is thrown into chaos, gravity shifting, glass cracking, the deafening sound of impact swallowing everything.

In the middle of it all, his hand finds yours. Instinctive. Desperate.

Then—stillness.

A ringing in your ears. The distant sound of voices, footsteps pounding against the pavement. Shadows moving outside the wreck. Someone is calling, you think it's for an ambulance. Your chest heaves as you groan, the taste of blood thick on your tongue. Pain radiates from everywhere, your head throbbing as you press trembling fingers against your scalp. Everything hurts.

You turn, breath shaky, searching. Soobin.

You look to your right and he’s already looking at your face. Pale, dazed, blinking too slowly. "Y/N, are you okay?" His voice is hoarse, weak, but when you nod, he exhales a shaky, "Thank fuck."

His grip tightens around your hand. You can barely feel it, your body is numb, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But you squeeze back. Hold on. You breathe. It’s going to be okay. The ambulance is coming.

Then your eyes drop. And your stomach lurches. "Soobin?"

A jagged piece of debris—large, sharp, too deep—juts from his stomach, trailing up his chest. Blood blooms around it, staining his shirt, spilling over his hands where he grips it like he’s not sure whether to pull or hold on.

Your world tilts again. This is just a dream. "Soobin, what—what—how the—"

There’s so much blood. Too much. Your hands press against the wound trembling, trying to keep it from spilling out, but it’s everywhere—warm and sticky between your fingers, staining your skin, pooling beneath him. You’re sobbing, whispering frantic words that don’t make sense, but you can’t even hear yourself. The panic is eating your face, roaring in your ears as you struggle to breathe. “How should I—”

Then his fingers find your face.

His touch is weak but certain, cradling your cheeks, forcing your wild, tear-filled eyes to meet his. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, but stronger than it should be. “Look at me.” His grip tightens, thumbs brushing your tears away. “Baby, shhh, look at me.”

You shake your head, choking on a sob. “Soobin—”

“I don’t wanna see you cry.”

You’re unravelling. He’s bleeding out beneath you, and you can’t do a damn thing to stop it. “Help! Please, someone help us!” you scream, voice cracking. There are people—so many people—but no one can touch him.

His breath stutters, but he still holds onto you. “Y/N.” Your eyes blur with tears as you grip his hand, pressing his palm tighter against your cheek. “Look at me, yeah?” His lips tremble, but he’s still here, still fighting to keep you calm. “Just keep looking at me. Please.” His forehead rests against yours. “It doesn’t hurt when you’re looking at me. We’re gonna get help soon. You're gonna get help soon, okay?”

The last memory crashes over you, pulling you under. Your chest feels heavy, unbearably so, but then… slowly… it gives. The weight that has kept you drowning eases, just enough for you to take a breath. The sound of machines hums beside you. A final tear slips down your cheek.

It feels like the end.

You close your eyes, just for a moment, just to see him one last time—the Soobin you knew like the back of your hand. And then, you see his face. That soft, lopsided grin that always made your heart stumble. His voice is a whisper, just a breath against your skin.

“I’m proud of you.” Your lip trembles. “You’ll be okay.”

"Congratulations, it's successful."

The doctor shakes your hand, his grip firm, reassuring. You smile, nodding along. The nurse beside him looks at you with warmth, and before she can react, you throw your arms around her. She lets out a small gasp before melting into the hug.

You feel light. Weightless.

They tell you the treatment worked. They tell you your mother is waiting outside. You nod again, absorbing their words, but for a brief moment, your fingers drift to your neck, expecting something to be there. But it’s bare.

You push the thought away as you step outside. The air feels fresh against your skin, and then you see her. Your mother. She looks thinner than you remember, her cheeks a little sunken, her eyes holding something you can’t quite place. Had she lost weight?

"Hi, Mom," you say, smiling. She looks at you—really looks at you—and her lips part. She smiles back.

"Oh, honey," she breathes, pulling you into her arms.

You giggle, warmth spreading through your chest. "What’s wrong?"

She pulls back just enough to cup your face, shaking her head. "Let’s go home, okay?" You nod, letting her guide you toward the entrance. Everything feels new, yet oddly familiar, like a dream you barely remember but somehow miss.

You're about to step outside when someone walks in. A bouquet of white roses in their arms. Your breath catches, feet falter. Your head turns instinctively, eyes following the flowers, something deep in your chest stirring, something you can’t name.

Your mother notices. "What is it?"

You blink, exhaling softly. "Nothing." You force a small smile, eyes lingering on the roses. "Those flowers… it’s beautiful."

"Yeah, I'll go home after class, Mom," you say, balancing your phone between your shoulder and ear as you adjust your bag. "Plus, I'm nineteen. An adult now. I can take care of myself."

Your mom chuckles on the other end, the kind of laugh that says she doesn’t quite believe you but won’t argue. "Alright, alright. Just don’t stay out too late."

"I won’t." She sighs, but you can hear the smile in her voice as she bids you goodbye.

The campus is buzzing with energy, students milling about for the event. It’s a collaboration between three schools—art students showcasing their work, others just here to admire. Beside you, Wonyoung loops her arm through yours, eyes scanning the crowd. "Girl, I’m getting us drinks," she announces. "Wait for me here."

You roll your eyes with a laugh. "Okay, okay. Don’t take forever." She winks before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you standing in the middle of it all.

Your eyes drift over the canvases, taking in the strokes of colour, the textures, the stories woven into the art. And then, you stop. Something about this one halts you mid-step. Oh. It’s a painting of—

“You’re a fan of Inuyasha?”

The voice beside you is warm, curious. You turn, finding a tall boy with black specs watching you, his hands tucked into his pockets. He shifts slightly when you meet his gaze, and after a beat, he offers you a small, hesitant smile. It’s barely there, just a quirk of his lips. And yet… his dimples poke through anyway.

He’s cute.

“It’s my favourite,” you reply, tearing your eyes away from the painting.

He nods, a quiet hum escaping him. “Mine too.” Then, after a pause, “Kikyo or Kagome?”

You blink at him. He stares at you, and something in your chest stirs.

Not deja vu—no, it’s not that fleeting, ghostly sense of repetition. This is different. Deeper. It feels like a memory you never knew you had, something tucked away in the quiet corners of your mind. Like a song, you don’t remember learning but somehow know all the words to. Like a book misplaced on a shelf, rediscovered years later—its pages worn, its story intact, as if it had been waiting for you to return.

It feels like something preserved, sealed in the vault of you.

Something... archived.

"What's your name?"

taglist: I love you @beombunni @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyukascampfire @fancypeacepersona @bamgeutori @lilbrorufr @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @xylatox @yunverie @imlonelydontsendhelp @moagyuu @soobinbunnie5 @usuallyunlikelyfox @txtzyallinme @younbeanz @fatbixchwithanopinion @bakudon @readinmidnight @flowzel @zaynspidey @joieouioui @kiyof @tubasmiracle @bamgyuuuri @heechwe @takimakiiiii @whatblop @frankghgr @lostgirlysstuff @philijack

[belliexpog]

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Piercing on Your Lip is Perfect- Se-Mi

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Pair: Se-Mi×Reader

Part: Part.2 (part.1)

Warnings: none

Words: 3k

Playlist: POYLIP

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If there was anyone who could have such a great connection in such a short time, it was you and Se-Mi. For the past 2 months you've been going out almost every weekend, to parties, cafes, ice cream shops or just a ride on her motorbike. She was the kind of person who could listen to you talk about what you love for hours and a year later she would remember everything. You could have the deepest conversations with her and the next moment have the best laughs of your life. She was a sweetheart, but she was such a woman.

At this moment you were at a party, which Se-Mi insisted on going to.You were with Dae-Ho, Thanos and Nam-gyu.You were quieter today, you didn't insist on dancing with Se-Mi so many times, you didn't drink or have your stupid arguments with Nam-gyu. Se-Mi noticed, obviously. She sat down next to you, putting her glass down on the table and putting her arm around your shoulders, tilting her head to look at you.

"What's up, pretty? Are you okay?" You nodded, placing your elbow on the table and resting your chin on the palm of your hand.Se-Mi let out a laugh, and put his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.She held your chin and gently turned your head towards her. Your eyes met and she smiled sideways and pressed your lips together. Kissing her was like going to another dimension. Your lips simply fit together perfectly, without needing much effort, and her lip piercing was just perfect, improving the kiss a thousand percent. You melted into the kiss, placing your hand on her cheek, and shivering as you felt the girl's cold hand on your warm neck.

When the air was lacking in both of your lungs, Se-Mi separated your lips, ending the kiss with a few pecks. "We can just leave, you know, right?" She asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You smile, biting your lips thinking Se-Mi watches with a smile, ready to leave. As you grab your coat, Se-Mi picks up her drink, drinking it all in one gulp, standing up. "Are you sure? Don't you want to stay a little longer?" You ask, adjusting your clothes as you stand up. "I want to be where you want to be. After all, I dragged you to this party, it's only fair that I take you away whenever you want."

And just like that, you and Se-Mi left that party, and the girl took you home safe and sound. Things with Se-Mi were like this: Simple and straightforward. There was no such thing as thinking twice.She wanted something? She does. And you loved that about her.

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This one is so bad, so sorry babies

But anyway babies, hope you liked it

Xoxo!

[soyales]

i have no defence for this, my opinions came rushing out, please ignore thanks byeee

ok so i get that madoka magica is like peak anime, an eternal work of art and trancendent divine tragic yuri, but like i wanna yap about the amazingness of orpheus and eurydice’s tragedy.

so orpheus and eurydice’s story comes from thousands of years of cobbled together bits and pieces from oral tradition right? its not really a medium that lends itself to continuity and meaningful foreshadowing, symbolism and the like. its honestly probably that ancient poets just thought, “i think this is how it went? whatever story some old guy told me twenty years ago probably did this right?” and just went full send on whatever the hell they felt like talking about, superimposing their own interpretations and perspectives onto this fable. ALSO THE GREEK MYTH HAS ITS OLDEST SOURCE FROM ANCIENT ROME, THATS *CENTURIES* AFTER ITS SETTING. theres no way any modern depiction in any way can stay “accurate” or “faithful” to its original form, our “original” is already a re-telling thats basically fanfic at that point. it has three (3) total story beats, eurydice dies, orpheus goes to the underworld, orpheus fails. its not so much about the story, i think, more of the message it sends about the finality of death and futility of humanity in the face of death, which I would argue is like the crux of most tragedies. it always ends in death, and the tragedy of their love centres around death, and their inability to escape it. i think it is more of a relatable tragedy to us non-magical girls turned immortal divinity, even though absolutely none of this shit is literally realistic to anyone outside a fictional world, its an analogy, of the suffering caused from the death/abandonment of loved ones. they don’t really need further depth into their characters nor relationship, i think it exists nicely as an ideal or concept, to be doven into by anyone.

i can’t say much about madohomu because its been a while since i had last seen it, but from what i remember it gets kinda insane with the lore and yeah i remember it being an amazing experience with brilliant writing, but i don’t want to say definitively that its a better story. it is, but like i dont want to admit it ok?? its a single story of a single writer’s mind, while my classical greek otp is a mishmash of thousands of years of artists of all kinds.

even with the messiness of mythos and the simplicity at its core, orpheus and eurydice have many different versions of their tale over time, a real life history that madohomu just dont have, and i think it sort of makes up for the less stable premise. it has just a richer history that i think is really interesting, weaving in the history of each storyteller in each rendition.

take hadestown the featured pic, it plays real fast and loose with the commonly accepted lore of the myth — the song he sings is different, the setting changes from the golden age of heroes in the hellenistic area to some sort of western railroad wild west-ish place, eurydice isnt a nymph, the satyrs arn’t there, etc. — but it still runs through the same simple story beats. it is different to ovid’s metamorphoses’ depiction of them, where they seem to focus more on the “no matter what you can’t escape death”, whereas hadestown seems to say more that “no matter what you can’t escape capitalism” (i know im grossly generalising it, shush.) all this to say its a different take, made by different people, and my own take in my mind is also different to all of yours as much as yours are different to all others, even if it is only in the most minute way. theres no right answer with these old ass myths, while there can be a slight directive with something more modern and crafted as pmmm.

theres just something super tragic about the fact that no matter how many renditions and versions orpheus and eurydice’s story goes through, all of them end up with the two being separated. their most remembered story beat is that orpheus fails her, and they don’t manage to live happily ever after, which is a special sort of tragic at least to me. also im defending orpheus now. i swear he’s not an absolute loser failure ok??? hes somewhat functional, but less so without eurydice. he’s literally walking out of the underworld, escaping death. at his point in time, NO ONE HAS DONE THAT BEFORE (no one still has, but i digress). the sheer stress of that compounded with the fact that he’s dealing with gods — who in ancient greece are famously known to not want to benefit mortals like he — would make anyone in his position weak. its a little mistake, that unfortunately has grave consequences attached. how easy is it to hear a sound behind you and instinctively look and check? with the knowledge that your love of your life may or may not be behind you no less. he was just about leaving the underworld, the sight of the sky ahead of him, what if he thought they had already succeeded? a small misconception, a tiny movement of the head, just a small turn of his eyes and everything crumbles before him? its his fault, and he knows it best. but also i can’t judge him for that, he does way better than i think most people would do in that situation. most people wouldn’t have even stepped foot beyond the acheron and he went fully in and out without killing himself (entirely).

alright thanks if you read all of that, i can’t even read that and its only been 5 seconds since I typed the last sentence. 14 seconds now <333

anyways madohomu supremacy lets goooo tragic yuri wins <33333

Tragic Ships Tournament: FINAL ROUND

Propaganda under the cut!

Orphydice:

"y'all probably know the story of orpheus and eurydice. but they are SO tragedy. they are TEXTBOOK tragedy. they redefined the genre. on their literal wedding day as she's walking down the aisle eurydice gets bit by a snake and dies. orpheus loves her so much he goes down to the underworld to try and save her. hades allows him to take her back to the land of the living, as long as she walks behind him, and he cannot look back, otherwise her soul will be taken. he's mostly fine , but begins to doubt and at the very end of the tunnel, he looks back. they lock eyes for a moment before she disappears back into hell. orpheus is then so distraught that he wanders the earth singing mournful melodies and gets stoned to death by some nymphs who think his sad songs are bumming them out. DUUUUDE their story consumed my every waking thought as a child."

Madohomu:

"madoka magica aired 12 episodes in 2011, with a sequel movie titled “rebellion” released in 2014. it’s been over 10 years since then, and these two have become the face of yuri. if someone makes a meme about loving yuri and makes a collage of example ships, madohomu are 100% gonna be present. video essays, fanart, fics, music videos and all kinds of fan projects featuring them are still wildly popular on all social media platforms.

but let’s talk about them (without going into too many spoilers, so this will be about the thematics in their relationship). they are light and darkness. the ying and the yang. forever intertwined. one would not exist without the other, yet they cannot exist together. for madoka has too much love for every living thing and too little for herself. and homura has too much love for madoka it blinds her to everything and everyone else, and she struggles with deep self-hatred. madoka has forsaken her own existence for the world, and homura has forsaken the world she created for her. the show has a lot of religious imagery, and madoka is akin to a god; there’s a shot of homura, who grew up catholic, kneeling at the feet of a gigantic statue of madoka, praying, but her hands stain her clothes. because if madoka is god, then homura is lucifer - specifically, iblis, the muslim version of lucifer, who loved god so much he betrayed him, for he’d rather defy him than bow to his creation, humans. and homura would rather defy the sanctity of madoka’s wish, rather than obey its laws, for she will take madoka’s happiness in her hands, if she refuses to. in the movie, dolls representing homura’s inner machinations yell, “gott ist tot”, for homura’s god, madoka, dies in the movie, when homura remembers that madoka was human first, and godhood was something she reached to save everyone, against her best interest and happiness. their relationship is one of love, kindness, obsession, devotion, hope, faith, worship - they are the thesis and the antithesis, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. forever locked in a struggle, never fully embracing, for madoka will always sacrifice herself for the world, and homura will always doom the world and herself for madoka."

[captain-huggy-bear]

The New Guy

Pairing: Kiefer Sherwood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual innuendo

Summary: You have an interesting first interaction with the new Canuck, Kiefer Sherwood.

Notes: Request from @toasttt11: I went with a close friend of Quinn rather than sister because that way more people can relate but I hope this is the kinda vibe you were after for this :)

A short little one, but hopefully funny/silly

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You've seen more trades than you can possibly comprehend in your time as Quinn's best friend. Witnessed the way everyone grew solemn as a friend and teammate had to leave suddenly to somewhere else, sometimes right before a game, sometimes in the off season. Saw how difficult it was when they were opponents, rivals rather than teammates for the first time in years. But, also the excitement when someone new came in and no one was more excited for this particular acquisition than Quinn.

Your best friend had pushed so hard, so much for the team to get Kiefer Sherwood and it meant that the day of his official signing, official joining, Quinn was abuzz, or at least as abuzz as Quinn can get, which meant slightly less haunted than usual. Some of the usual stress of being captain having been lifted from his shoulders with the prospect of a new teammate to help them win the Stanley Cup.

"He's going to be so good for the team, Y/N. We need a solid enforcer, someone to make big hits." He'd been ranting on and rambling all day about how good Sherwood would be for the team and it was starting to dull the shine, just a little. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as the two of you walked through the corridors of the arena.

"You've only said about a thousand times." You're happy for Quinn and the team, of course you are. The excitement palpable as you stop outside the locker room. You can't even deny that you are a little excited yourself to meet the 6ft tall forward, a new teammate for Quinn usually meant a new friend for you...it helped that he was handsome and that meant another face to ogle at when you were in the stands watching the games. You liked having a little bit of eye candy in your day, not that you'd tell Quinn that. He'd probably complain that you were a HR incident waiting to happen.

"Hey! I mean it. This is our year!" Quinn smiles at you in such a genuinely hopeful way that you really hope he's right. Being captain has meant he takes every error, every loss onto his own shoulders. You really hope Sherwood and the team prove Quinn right, for Quinn's sake more than anything else.

"He better be nice, that's all I'm saying, if he treats me like a coffee girl I'm going to enforce him." You cross your arms over your chest as if you might fight someone, quite hilarious when you consider the sorts of men you're surrounded by on the daily. Still, you're determined not to be undermined or treated like just a pretty face, casual workplace sexism was not something you were going to allow. You hoped this new guy wasn't one of those hockey players. You'd dealt with your fair share in your life and couldn't stand them.

"What does that even mean?" Quinn huffs out a laugh at you, shaking his head at you because he loves you, but fuck, you can be so weird sometimes. You remind him a little of Luke. A little weird, a little strange but in the best sort of way. Endearingly bizarre.

"It means he'll get shoved into the boards." He might be 6ft and 200lbs but you're pretty sure that with the element of surprise you could get Kiefer Sherwood into the boards if he annoyed you enough. Maybe even onto his back on the ice with a well aimed stick to the ankles.

"Y/N." Quinn seems to disagree, it's quite insulting actually, the way he looks at you like you're mad. Like your smaller stature makes it impossible.

"You don't think I can do it? I've shoved Luke into the lake before."

"Lukey is a bean pole and loves you, so he let you." You're actually quite hurt that Quinn is convinced the Luke let you shove him into the lake when you know that you did so on your own merit and skill.

"You think I can't shove Kiefer Sherwood into some boards? You think I'm weak!"

"Y/N." Quinn's gaze shifts behind you, just over your shoulder but you don't take much notice of it. He's probably looking at one of the arena workers.

"This...you're supposed to be my best friend. I could take him! I could definitely take Kiefer Sherwood!" You're actually a little hurt that Quinn doesn't seem to think you're capable of taking Kiefer Sherwood in a fight. Even if he's probably right. Sherwood could probably toss you like you're a doll...an appealing thought depending on the circumstances behind it.

"Y/N!" It's the urgency behind Quinn yelling your name and the way his stare is directed above your head, mixed with the hint of a laugh that tells you you're about to be terribly embarrassed.

There's a beat of silence, your shoulders tensing, mouth pursing in realisation.

"...He's right behind me, isn't he?" Quinn nods in confirmation, holding back a laugh as you briefly close your eyes, trying to swallow the embarrassment that you can feel rising in you like a wave. Not the best first impression you've ever made.

You turn to look behind you once you've composed yourself. Kiefer Sherwood is there, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, arms crossed and smirking at you. He looks frustratingly handsome, perfectly rugged and dishevelled from the dimples around his smirk to the dark curls that seemed to fall perfectly around his face. He looks...big too. The only accurate way to describe him, broad shouldered, solid, like he's immovable and perhaps you'd overestimated your ability to fight the man. Perhaps Quinn was right. But, you're certain you could take him...just maybe not in a fight.

"You can shove me into the boards any time you want, princess." The way he looks at you, all dark half lidded eyes and long lashes, makes warmth flood through your entire body, but mostly ending in your face. You're certain your cheeks are on fire with how warm they are.

"Kief, don't flirt with my best friend." You want to tell Quinn off because Kiefer Sherwood can certainly flirt with you if he wants, especially if he looks at you like that. You did not need the overprotective best friend act right now.

"But, she's cute." His eyes don't leave you even as he responds to Quinn, like he's still talking to you.

"Kief."

"Alright, alright..." He pushes off of the wall, practically sauntering over to you, stopping a few feet short, respectable enough to give you space, but there's nothing respectable about the smirk he's still sporting. "Still think you could take me?"

"Oh, definitely." There's absolutely no mistaking the way you lower your voice, the coy tone to it, the fact that you most certainly don't mean in a fight. It has Kiefer throwing his head back with a loud, rumbling laugh while Quinn all but hisses at you like a scolding parent.

"Y/N!"

Yeah, you think you might like the new guy...maybe more than you should.

[remeberm3]

hold you close | k.m

⎯⎯“Shhh.” His lips brushed against your temple, and you nearly stopped breathing. “You wiggle like that again, and I’ll take it as an invitation.”

warnings: none i think

Klaus Mikaelson was a monster. A villain. The scourge of many, the nightmare of more, the kind of man whose name alone sent people running.

Klaus Mikaelson did not cuddle.

Or so he said.

༊*·˚

It started with an accident.

The first time you caught him in a suspiciously cuddle-adjacent position, he had been asleep. Or, at least, pretending to be asleep, because Klaus Mikaelson did not just fall unconscious like some mere mortal.

You had woken up in the middle of the night, still half-dazed, only to realize that Klaus had practically enveloped you. His arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, his face tucked into your neck, one leg thrown over yours like he was trying to pin you there.

Your first thought had been, Huh. So the Big Bad Hybrid sleeps like a koala.

Your second had been, I wonder how long I can get away with this before he wakes up and denies everything.

The answer had been not long at all, because as soon as you shifted slightly, his grip tightened.

“Nik,” you murmured, biting back a smile.

Nothing.

“Klaus,” you tried again.

Still nothing.

You were fairly certain that if you peeled your sock off with your toes, it would elicit more of a reaction than your attempts to wake the thousand-year-old Original Vampire currently latched onto you.

So, naturally, you did what any sane person would do.

You poked him.

Right in the ribs.

A low, dangerous sound rumbled in his chest, but instead of loosening his hold, he only curled around you more, the weight of him now pressing you fully into the mattress.

You let out an indignant huff. “Oh, now you’re awake?”

Silence.

For a moment, you thought he might actually be ignoring you.

And then, voice thick with sleep, muffled against your skin—

“Go back to sleep, love.”

You blinked. “You’re literally on top of me.”

“Mmm.” He sounded delighted by this information.

You tried to wriggle free, but his grip was ironclad. “Niklaus—”

“Shhh.” His lips brushed against your temple, and you nearly stopped breathing. “You wiggle like that again, and I’ll take it as an invitation.”

You went still in an instant.

Klaus chuckled, satisfied, and nuzzled his nose against your jaw.

You clenched your jaw. “You do realize this counts as cuddling, right?”

Silence.

Then, after a long moment—

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Are you serious?” You snorted. “Then what exactly does this count as?”

He was quiet for another beat, and then, smugly—

“Trapping you.”

You gaped. “That’s even worse.”

He hummed, utterly unbothered, before pulling you impossibly closer.

You huffed. “I am telling everyone you cuddle.”

Klaus, voice amused and far too pleased with himself: “And who, pray tell, would believe you over me?”

Damn it. He had a point.

༊*·˚

Of course, this would have been a one-time thing.

Would have been.

Except that it kept happening.

༊*·˚

The second time, Klaus was awake.

It was the middle of the day. You were minding your own business, reading in the parlor, when Klaus appeared behind you, swiped your book from your hands, and promptly pulled you onto the couch beside him.

You blinked up at him. “Excuse me?”

He draped an arm over your shoulders and exhaled, looking—of all things—content.

You stared at him. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly.” He said it so smoothly, like he hadn’t just manhandled you into his arms.

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you dying?”

Klaus snorted. “Not unless you’ve found a way to kill an Original, love.”

You tilted your head, peering up at him. “Are you cuddling me right now?”

Klaus barely even blinked. “No.”

“…Klaus.”

“Hmm?”

“Your arm is around me.”

“Observant as ever, sweetheart.”

You clenched your jaw. “Your arm is around me.”

“Yes, we’ve established that, haven’t we?”

“Why?”

Klaus turned his head, looking at you with feigned innocence. “Would you rather I let go?”

You hesitated.

And that was all the confirmation he needed.

Klaus smirked, settled back against the cushions, and pulled you in just a little closer.

You scowled. “I am telling everyone.”

Klaus smirked, utterly unbothered. “You would not dare.”

You hated him.

You really, really didn’t.

༊*·˚

The third time, it was raining.

A thunderstorm had rolled in unexpectedly, the kind that rattled the windows and made the whole city feel like it had been swallowed by the sky.

You had been standing at the window, watching the storm roll in, when Klaus appeared behind you and wordlessly wrapped his arms around your waist.

You froze.

Then, slowly, you craned your neck to look at him. “Niklaus.”

He hummed.

“This is cuddling.”

Klaus only sighed, tucking his face into your shoulder. “Your definitions are exhausting, love.”

“This is—” You exhaled sharply. “You are cuddling me.”

Klaus, voice muffled against your neck: “Debatable.”

“Niklaus—”

“Shhh.” His lips brushed your jaw. “Just let me pretend I don’t have a reputation to uphold, would you?”

You were still fuming about it an hour later, when he refused to let go.

༊*·˚

It wasn’t until weeks later—after a dozen more incidents, after many more attempts on your end to point out the obvious, after several smug retorts on his end—that you realized something.

You weren’t actually trying to get him to admit he was a cuddler.

You just wanted to hear him say it.

To acknowledge it.

To say, I want to hold you.

To say, This is more than just a habit to me.

To say, I just love you too damn much not to keep you close.

But this was Klaus Mikaelson.

He wasn’t one for spoken confessions.

But in the quiet of the night, when his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his warmth, when he buried his face into your hair and held you like he was afraid the world would try to take you from him—

You knew.

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t cuddle.

But god help him—he would always hold you close.

[odileeclipse]

https://www.tumblr.com/odileeclipse/775661126176391168/choosing-her-pure-vanilla-x-reader-angst-i-wanted?source=share

This is amazing! Also now I can't stop thinking about an alternate version...sorta an angst to comfort version...

Imagine y/n just wanting to see him happy and sees that he is happier with white lily than with themselves so y/n breaks their own heart and watches him go off with white lily...then, after whatever events you wanna guess this happens after, pure vanilla realizes y/n loved him but had done something out of love for him...let him go...because of that old saying 'if you love something, let it go.'

And for the comfort part...can go bitter sweet or sweet. Bitter sweet is where he thanks y/n and hugs them...Still friend zone but now appreciates them more. Sweet would be...him finally choosing y/n, recognizing their sacrifices and how much they loved him!

Has it always been you?

pt 1 is linked here

Pure Vanilla x Reader Part 2 (Angst to comfort) (A/N at the end)

How could you say no to the one you loved. If he needed you on the sideline for moral support, then that’s exactly where you’d be. “White lily cookie, I know we’ve been friends for so long, and we’ve shared so many secrets” Pure Vanilla started off, with nothing but sincerity a raw emotion you wanted to keep for yourself. “If you would make me the happiest cookie alive, it would mean the world to me, White lily, I selfishly ask you to be mine, for now and for as long as forever lasts” You felt tears stream down your face watching helplessly feeling, wishing maybe that in another universe those words would be meant for you. White lily stared back into his eyes. Her eyes also welled up with tears but unlike you they truly were out of happiness. “Pure Vanilla…I feel the same way. Nobody has ever believed in me the way you have, and whether you had asked me now or years from now the answer would always be yes.” She was so soft spoken, and eloquent perhaps that’s what you were missing. You questioned Pure Vanilla’s kindness why would he have you witness something that would break your heart a thousand times over. Perhaps your patient nature disguised your true feelings and intentions. “I-I’m so happy for you guys, I’m so glad I was here to witness my greatest and dearest friends that I” You paused for a moment to wipe your tears and to calm your bated breath. “That I truly love” You watched them smile pure vanilla being the first to speak up. “(y/n) cookie, I couldn’t have done this without you, white lily, I hope you know no matter what happens, from now on you won’t have to walk alone.” 

As much as you hated to admit it, they were perfect for each other. You felt resignation was better, after all what was there to fight for. The prize has been claimed and your heart has had enough of this. Whatever this is. “Pure Vanilla cookie, White lily cookie, I’ll be taking my leave, a kingdom doesn’t rule itself” You said laughing off the hurt, of course you knew your kingdom would be fine but any excuse to leave was necessary. You looked at him longingly but left with a smile before any more words could be exchanged. You spent the day walking through the vanilla kingdom but the kingdom only served as a reminder of who you were missing. You sat in front of a garden of orchids, they were always your favorite flower. At first it was just because, but once pure vanilla entered the picture the smell of orchids followed him. It was an even bigger reason to love them. As you touched the yellow petals you let yourself smile. “He’s happy, that’s enough for me…I do wonder as an orchid do you wish you could see the world in its limitless glory?” you said to the orchids, not rushing to do anything else but enjoy them. If any cookie saw you they’d think you crazy. “It’s time for me…I'm a ruler, a successful one, and I did it all without him.” Though hurt you knew that what’s meant for you would find you, and anything that didn’t belong to you wouldn’t be yours. You could live with that. “Goodbye orchids, grow big and tall because you don’t know what comes tomorrow” Feeling that bittersweet feeling, love for your friends at your own expense. But if they had found each other there’s hope for you too. You returned to your kingdom by carriage, it was a bumpy road.

But no road is without its challenges, and with every day you began to embrace yourself more and more. Healing from a love you wanted was hard. But the kindness of your people helped you through it. Patience really was a virtue, your soul jam was the only proof of it. In the shape of an hourglass. The passage of time was the only thing you needed. As the days went by, weeks turned into months. Nightfall came on fast as you were getting ready to rest, when frantic knocking on your personal chambers doors alarmed you. “(y/n) cookie! Let me in I need your help” the familiar voice, usually soft spoken, was now pleading for your help. You opened the door carefully and were enveloped in the smell of lilies. A scent you would never grow tired of. You did have to pry her arms away after all the matter seemed urgent. “Well what can I do for you? I didn’t get a letter concerning your arrival?” You said skeptically wondering if perhaps you missed it. “No, there was no letter. I needed this to be as private as possible.”

“Is this why you show up in the middle of the night? Your plan already sounds defective, what if I had been asleep or worse what if someone thought you an intruder. You need to be careful, take your time” Pure lily sighed out. “Patience is the only thing I can’t afford right now, it’s why I came seeking you. You're the only one who ever has enough of it.” You looked at her quizzically. “You’re starting to scare me you sound awfully-” you stopped yourself mid sentence sensing the atmosphere had no space for jokes. “Well what’s wrong, how can I help?” You said urging her to share her troubles. “Pure Vanilla and I…I love him I do, but I want answers. He has a kingdom to rule, people to heal and care for. It won’t work out.” White lily looked at you for answers searching through your features for clues. “(y/n) cookie, I know you loved him too. So I ask of you, as a friend, as someone dear to your heart. Take care of him in my place won’t you?” You stared wide-eyed. “No…No! I can’t do this how could I- you, you both belong together freedom always follows the truth” It wasn't that you didn’t want this, you did but to get it handed in this way wasn’t something you wanted. “Truth seeks structure and clarity, but freedom, freedom thrives on limitlessness and change. I can’t stay, I need to know our purpose.” You saw her face contort into one of pain. “S-so if you love me and Pure Vanilla, take care of him” She embraced me seeking comfort, that’s something you would never deny to a friend. “If you won’t do it for me do it for him” she said through sobs as you rubbed her back in circular motions, a feeble attempt to tend to her broken heart. “Does he know?” you said in a hushed tone. “No, that's your job” your job? She couldn’t be serious could she? You gave it all up, a future with him and it was all for nothing? Your emotions stirred starting off as a soft dance, becoming a battlefield. “My job? White lily, you can’t be serious. You can’t just run off, that's not how this works, you can't be unfair to me. Not like you’ve always been unfair to me, you had him first and I let you because I was the ‘bigger person’ I resigned my feelings all for nothing? You’re both so unfair” you said in disbelief, your words came out sharper than intended but you weren’t upset with anyone because it isn't anyone’s fault things turned out this way. “I’ll do it” your voice with the smallest tinge of regret. Regret because you didn’t want to be the one that broke his heart. It just wasn't your burden to bear. But White lily was your friend, someone you also held dear and for her you were doing this. You could put your sentiments aside for her. It was the least you could do, after all she was a stellar scholar back then always helping you, in a morbid way the academy being in ruins served to help you, your grades were never stellar and you actually stayed in the class. “I can’t stay any longer, he’ll come looking for your help I know it. I wasn’t here okay?” You nodded sighing out. “Okay hurry on out I’ll ask a guard to accompany you at least till you’re out of my kingdom…it’s the least you could do.” She nodded as you asked a guard to accompany her. You watched from afar as her figure only got smaller. Until she was nothing. Quickly you lit up sugar candles to conceal the penetrating scent of white lilies that could give your lie away. 

It wasn’t long before you got a letter informing you Pure Vanilla cookie was on his way. You wondered how long it had been since you last saw him. Months of course but you didn’t wish to see him now. You loved him but you would be the one to hurt him, maybe you could put it off for some time. Not worry about him. So you headed towards your garden, a large greenhouse full of orchids and white lilies, representing the friends you held dear in your heart. It wasn’t long before a guard knocked on the door “Virtue of Patience, you have a visitor” it’s what everyone in the kingdom called you, you were hard to anger in the beginning the kingdom had a rough start building itself but you never once got angry. Insisting time would run its passage. “Who? If it’s not Pure Vanilla please turn them away I’m in no shape for visitors” You said firmly after all you wouldn’t want anyone to see you when you’re worried sick. “(y/n) cookie, I’ve come needing your help, forgive me. I wish we would meet in better circumstances but as you know, White lily has gone missing. She just disappeared one day. I came in hopes you’d know something” That melodious voice greeted your ears, even when frantic it made your heart skip a beat. You turned to see that familiar serene face. “You should breathe, I wouldn’t want you to pass out on me” your heart stirred conflicted. Knowing the words you’d have to utter. Could you lie to him? “(y/n) cookie, have you seen her?” confronted with the question made you freeze. “I’m sorry I haven’t. I’ll send out search parties if it would make you feel better” You said hoping your nerves wouldn’t give away the truth. But knowing he held the light of truth made you question how you’d fool the truth. Pure Vanilla cupped your face hoping to find answers knowing something was awry. However this only made uncomfortable heat rise to your cheeks. “H-Hey you can’t just do that to me you know” you said nervously prying his hands off gently turning your back to him. “Pure Vanilla you shouldn’t do that for other reasons too, someone might see and call you unloyal.” Silence. That was odd you turned to him, tears leaking from his closed eyes. Frantically you wiped away his tears. “Hey don’t cry, it’s okay I’m here for you, always” You whispered as you embraced him. “Don’t lie to me about what you know (y/n) cookie. I’ve known you so long I can tell when you lie.” He said sniffling. “What gave it away?” You whispered. “You always furrow your brow and if you’re feeling especially guilty” he grabbed our hand and opened up the hand curled into a fist. “You’ll curl your fists” he said softly. “I didn’t think you’d pay attention to me” you said with an ounce of disbelief. “You’re my beloved friend, first friend who illuminated my path and taught me to be kind to myself” he said in that soft voice the one reserved for you.

“Pure Vanilla promise me you wont be mad?” You didn’t know when his tears stopped but the only sign of them were the soggy streaks on his cheeks. “I promise I could never be angry with you. You’re my soothing light.” You shook your head. “You shouldn’t say things like that, people will get the wrong idea. And okay I’ll tell you what really happened but please don’t blame her. I promise you she, she’s just I don't even know anymore. White lily came to me frantic, she said something about seeking the truth.” You sighed out. “Pure Vanilla I plead to you and this time please listen to me, don’t go. Stop where you are, you're a king, a beacon of hope. A-And someone I love and hold dear to my heart. White lily told me it’s not working out, and that she can’t settle down.” In the flurry of emotions you rambled off the burden sharing it with him like you’d always done. Pure Vanilla sighed. “I felt this would happen, but you my dear light would never leave me right?” He was looking to you for comfort even if the logical part of your brain felt this was wrong, you were basically taking her beloved. And for the first time you were impatient as you embraced him. “Never would I leave you, you’re my sanctuary” You said in the hopes you could selfishly convince him to stay. “(y/n) cookie, during the 12 trials of the sugar free road, I feel ashamed but I continued in the hopes to see you again.” You looked at him confused. “Why me?”

“Because you left abruptly I thought you had found another. I love white lily. She's a dear friend to me, but how could I forget my light. When you left I had thought perhaps there was no more room for me. I mean how could I ask you for myself, I thought it selfish.” He looked at you the same way he looked at you before white lily, back then when it was just you and him. You are the light and him your sanctuary. “I’m sorry, I know you sacrificed your love and happiness for mine, I’ll spend the rest of my days repaying you.” He said his voice was compassionate, full of that love. Those eyes that knew everything about you, what made you cry or laugh. He was a vault full of your secrets. To be loved is to be known. “How could you do that to yourself?” He said, cupping your face. “My dearest light, if you love fight for it, I would have fought for a chance with you a million times over. Throw away rationality for you, why didn’t you fight?” His voice was earnest and searching. You whimpered attempting to hold back the tears, perhaps it was because of how sudden White lily’s disappearance was or because you had what you always wanted. It was in the palm of your hand for you to keep or destroy. Isn’t this what you wanted? “I wanted you to be happy, shouldn’t I let things go if I love them? And I loved you so much.” You said, biting back tears. He embraced your entire being the hug felt like your souls were connected on the same wavelength.

You broke down in tears. “I always loved you” you said and he only pulled you closer. “My dearest, I’d give up my soul jam for you.” parting from you he pushed back the strands of hair that adorned your face and kissed your temple. “I have spent my days bringing warmth and healing to others, but in your presence, I have found a warmth of my own…a light I never knew I needed. You are my solace and my quiet joy. If you would have me, I would walk beside you always” You couldn’t express anything into words, grabbed him by the collar, your lips meeting in a slow lingering embrace, kissing like a whispered confession, slow and deliberate. Taking him by surprise as he opened those beautiful heterochromic eyes. Your lips hovered a breath apart, the air charged with longing and words left unspoken.

A/N This is my apology for breaking everyone's heart <3 The long-awaited sequel due to popular demand I got to this request first but trust I am working on my other requests!!! If you have any requests, send them my way!!! ALSO NOT PROOF READ ANY GRAMMAR ERRORS PLS IGNORE <3 I hope you guys enjoyed!!!

*feeds you writing meal*

[marlodramatic]

pick me! pick me!

I literally became a fan like a week ago and I have some insane insight still fresh in my mind. I will disclose: I knew sorta about them. I am younger than them but don't remember anyone directly speaking about them in my presence. I heard their names mid 10s but not sure related to what, and I remember Tumblr exploding when they came out, but again, none of my mutuals in my previous blogs were phans. I again heard about them when they came back from hiatus in the form of trending topics on this site.

Now, I think anyone who boils down DNP's popularity to "are they or aren't they?" (including baby boy Danny) are oversimplifying it, and it's horrendously self-deprecating of Dan, which, mood.

With my limited knowledge of them, the above points of awareness in my small corner of the world were more the introverted weirdos happy to have serotonin. Games, banter, comfort.

My many blogs across this site and my subscriptions on yt were like anime (hello, sailor moon revival blog) and I was cosplaying as a (secretly) bisexual christian good girl who didn't even know what trans or cis was. So I did see a few very rare strays of assumptions which were always clapped into silence by people asking for respect.

When they came out, I didn't see anyone ship in my newer, more closeted blogs. Instead, again, an outpouring of love and support and applause for the videos. (I think at that point I just assumed they were married and had a strong fanbase atp)

When they came back and blew this shit up again, I only ever saw happy humans. Again, games, some bunch of shit I didn't recognize then but now realize was the weird ass alien language???, and just overall chaotic disbelief that they came back. (And bets whether 1D were next.)

I did see a few more theories then that they might be romantic but not the creepy, mouth foaming insane and perverted assumptions about them. These things fizzled away under the countdown. (Ig to the next video? Idk, weird time for me irl)

My impression from the very far outside has been they're weirdo gamers on yt with their niche super fanbase.

In fact the many people, besides my Cynical Friend, I've spoken to irl have the understanding that Dan and Phil are just a comedic pair of gamers.

That was why when I was having an almost 24hr panic attack after literally fleeing my whole life, I tried them out. Anyone even scrolling through my posts in the tags has seen me fall for them. My anxiety is much better, my mind is on them instead of Death™️ snd I've laughed so hard I almost had an accident at 32.

It really is so easy to believe and fed the negative assumptions about ourselves. Dan has inspired and helped MILLIONS. Dan has done publicly what some of us cannot think privately. Phil has probably saved more lives than he can imagine. Phil probably couldn't understand his mere existence is comforting, with his breezy attitude and smile. It's not a fatal flaw to fail to see how others perceive us, but it is a tragedy that the viewpoint we focus on is negative.

When I spoke to my Cynical Friend, she went off about shippers. She always does. And three years after learning about real people ships, I've never been able to put into words that I'm not spying or prying or obsessed with these perfect matches.

I couldn't explain why I found Ryan Bergara looking at Shane Madej in the early years spark some vague recognition, or why when I found out about the Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson ship I literally LITERALLY almost died. But after watching Dan and Phil, I knew exactly why some people might comb over thousands of moments with a fine tooth comb or play videos at .75 or read interviews in magazines they'f never even heard of. The answer fell off my lips and after, I understood, "I just want to see gay people happy." And it wasn't "gay people in love."

It is so easy to simplify and explain away your success and accomplishments with dribble. It's easy to overlook someone else's feelings because of your own. It's not easy being known, it's not easy being overstimulated with the same damn shit, but it's your responisibility to improve the way you think.

So on the off chance Dan or Phil see this, you're looking at a very loud section of the Phandom. To the majority of us, we tune in, rewatch because we like the content you show us.

Source: youtube comments, phans who have talked to me, people blogging in tags, phanart, the far and old reaches of the community they have built.

Ok I’ve just had a truely eye opening conversation, I was talking to a non dan and Phil fan friend of mine and she casually said “oh well people only really watched them because it was like the mystery of whether they were together or not”

and then I remembered the line in Dan’s diss track where he says “the only reason you get views is because you’re another white guy that people ship with his friend because they think it’s kawaii” and now I’m thinking, is this true?

like I personally would watch them no matter what, like even if they both had secret other spouses, it makes me sad though that the general public and maybe even dan and Phil themselves could think that the only reason they’re entertaining is because their relationship is ambiguous, I think they’re genuinely very smart and incredible entertainers and they should be proud of that

[threepandas]

Bad End: Earth Shaker

People call them "Contracts" but few, if any, ever read the fine print.

Maybe it's because of all the media from my first life; the horror stories and tales of deals gone wrong. Yet it seems like I alone, remain cautious. Careful. It feels like I alone, even understand the concept of "a deal with the devil". Though granted... not by that exact wording.

There are no devils here. IS no Christian Heaven or Hell. (As far as I can tell.)

But... but oh, there is so much more. And all of it is dangerous.

There are demons, yes, but they are creature made of malicious Energies. So too, exsist spirits. Minor and major Gods. It is a full and complete fantasy set up. They whole package. A wonderland of world building. And? A horror story to live in.

Those self same demons? Eat people. Attack travelers. Trains. And those Spirits? Fight for dominance in some sort of ever shifting court intrigue, using mortals as power sources and pawns. Are just as, if not more, destructive then the demons!

But, oh. What of the Gods?

What OF them? Do you think they care?

Beneath the glamorous adventures and magical veneer of the Story, this world was a rotten thing. Barely holding together. Yet... yet it was all I had, now. And that terrified me. Because I could not protect... anyone. Could I? Not.. not a single soul.

In the Story, the Protagonist (bless his empty little head) went to a magical academy. Met friends and foes. There was a love story and eventually? He saved the day. Huzzah. Good for him. But... here was the problem. The one which haunted me so.

That Love story? The "girl" he fell in love with? A nice, if proper, young lady from a house far above his station. But, oh! It was a turn of the century magical fantasy! He became famous! Wealthy! Saved her life with his incredible power! Of course her family approved in the end.

I did not want to BE his love story.

He was... a nice young man. Really! But... but it was like talking to, well, a high school student. Which he effectively was. And I? Had already been in college. Damn near graduating! (Not that I was bitter. No. Of course not. Perish the thought!) Only to then? Reincarnate and go on to live over a decade more.

I was at least twice his age.

The day I'd look at him as a romantic prospect? Is the day I'd gouge my own eyes out. That is a CHILD. My whole class is full of children. It's... exhausting. Ha! "Mature one", indeed. "Class mom", indeed! If only they knew.

But now? Now‽ The school wanted us to make Contracts! For a fucking GRADE! It was horrifying. Ill conceived and frankly? A GREAT way to push kids to over reach themselves. Try and Contract with a more powerful Being then they could handle. Get burned up or used.

"Mandatory". Ha! Mandatory my ass. I should refuse. If I was sane, I was refuse. But the problem was?

The school was fronting the Contact materials and safety arrays.

It was the safest chance I'd ever get. Fuck. Damn it.

So I read. I read and I read. Research til my eyes cross. Practice writing until my hands cramp. Splurge on the highest grade calligraphy instruments and inks I can afford. And with my allowance? And years of saving up? I'm literally buying alongside royals.

But it's the CONTRACT that takes the most time. I have to research law. Act under the assumption that I will be faced with some sort of malicious genie. It... gods, it can only end poorly. I know this. Yet? Here I stand.

Doing it anyway.

(I am a fool... aren't I?)

Unlike my fellow students, I don't do a vague Call All. While yes, the odds are higher for a response (due to it being basically an APB), you will have no control over what responds. Better to call for something specific and fail, in my mind. Then at least? You can plan ahead.

Besides, with the sheer quality of the materials I'm using? Someone will answer. They won't be able to resist. It's like leaving a box of diamonds on the sidewalk.

It takes all day, slowly, carefully writing out the hundreds of thousands of sigils and qualifiers. The "if X then Y, except when Z unless AB" of it all. I magically drain myself twice. Have to eat trail mix on the floor then nap in the corner. I rented the hall for the week, but... once begun? Only an IDIOT would open the safety arrays to leave.

Great way for foreign influences to completely fuck up your spell work. Either try to harvest the building Energies or, more likely, sabotage the Contract for a friend or ally, so they get more then they should. Fuckers.

After nearly two days? It's done. Still, I wait. Even as the air nearly burns with power. The scent of Green so over powering it's like someone dumped a cologne aisle on the floor. Wood and moss and old growth. Deep dark, pitch black earth. Petrichor. All humming, Humming, HUMMING like a bow string pulled back as far as it can. Straining, shaking, desperately ready to release the tension and STRIKE.

But I am no fool.

I wait for my energy to refill. Wait for a nap and some food to clear my mind. For all my papers to be nicely in order. I have called upon you, not the other way around. You can wait. (Because, frankly? I haven't even called you yet!)

Contract ready, I step into place. And each step, as it lands, is like the falling of trees and the baying of hounds. Thunderous in the sudden silence. Crashing as they fall. It is not me, whoever does this, the heraldry is both dramatic and not something I've ever even practiced. The scent of Green is thick enough now to choke. I'm genuinely surprised that the scent alone has not inspired plant growth.

My meticulous work surges to life, like it was a beast, only barely holding itself a bay. Like it can no longer. Roots and vines, made of then thousand shades of green-Gold-GREEN light shoot forward and up. Restrictive and choking. I am consumed in seconds.

I have to remind myself not to panic. To keep my feet still. As long as I don't move? I am safe. It is all for show. Like a cat, arching it's back. They can't truely hurt me. Bruise? Yes. But true, actual injury? No. It would hurt THEM too.

"Well, now, what have we here?" Mused a voice beyond comprehension.

It was eons of growth, beneath aliens skies. The cries of animals long lost and longer dead. Things that weren't and have never been, but could have. Growth, growth, GROWTH. Hunting and savagery and Death. Trees so tall the eclipse the heavens. Roots so deep they consume the world. Each leaf a tapestry. Decay. Growth from the rotting.

My... my ears were bleeding.

The vines-roots writhed in agony and pleasure under the weight of those few words. And... and that wasn't right. S-something was wrong. Very, very wrong. A spirit wasn't supposed to be that... that powerful.

I could FEEL the Safety arrays all but screaming under the weight they were trying to hold. Like toothpicks trying to hold up a mountain range. W-what? What was happening? I picked an earth spirit! Statistically, the calmest and mildest out of all available options! So... so why...‽

"Not going to bargain, kid? Plead for power and wealth?" The next sentence was no less agony then the first. Like being slammed by a wall of power. "Or are you here to make demands? Hmmm? I'm curious, honestly, to see where this one goes. It's been a while, after all."

The world had a pink tint. I... I tasted iron. Ha ha... oh god. Shit. I fucked up. I knew I should never have agreed to this stupid fucking-!

Wet dribbled down my face. A wheezing gurgle rattled my lungs. My heart was racing... but... but I could get enough air. I tried to suck in more. But the wet gurgle only got louder, as pink tinted foam worked it's way up my throat. Filled my lungs. I couldn't breathe. Something wet trickled from my ears. I Couldn't Breathe!

"Ah. I forgot about that. Fragile little creatures, aren't you?"

Unhurried steps casually strolled closer. Iron flavored foam clogged my air ways, as muscles spasmed, and creeping tendrils of darkness began to work their way closer, around the edges of my dying eyes. The world was muffled yet I could hear him perfectly. My sense were burning out, yet he imprinted himself beyond that. What had I summoned? Oh god... what had I done? W-what had I-‽

A calloused, treebark colored hand (the shade ever shifting, just ever so slightly) passed through the vines. Rather, the vines parted for it. Sun warm. Glowing as though containing that sunlight itself. Big. It... it was a strong, gardeners hand. A hunter's. Yet at the same time... unmistakable for anyone but that of a powerful man's.

Casual in it's impropriety. Sliding through my hair to grip the top of my head like it was simply his due. His skin... buzzed against me. Was almost too hot. Like standing near a live wire. And...? Then...

Then everything was gone.

My lungs free and clear. My eyes sharper then they'd ever been. Hearing so crisp, the silence of the room around us was nearly vertigo inducing. It was like my body had been reset to factory settings. Upgraded. I shuddered, eyes clenching shut. Because even with the pain gone? The horror was still there. The memory of the taste still lingered in my mouth.

"There we go, good girl. All fixed." There was a condescending lilt to his voice. His hand didn't move. Just tightened lightly and dragged, forcing me to tilt my head up, if I didn't want my hair pulled. Making me look him in the eyes. They were shifting, lazily, between hawk and wolf gold even as I watched. "Now, you were trying to be clever, yes? Had your little plan and every thing. Come on, let's hear it. I'm curious to see where this scheme goes. You always think your so creative, after all. So bold and new."

I wanted to send him back.

Now.

Fuck this. Fuck, grades. To hell with "mandatory". I'd drop out if I had too. Gods damn it, I'd go be puppy boy Protagonist's Love Interest if I had too! This was insane. I... I fucked up so bad. Earth spirits don't glow. Light spirits glow! For obvious reasons. But you know who does‽ Who FUCKING DOES‽‽ Gods.

"Ah, ah~." He chided, all but curling over me as he loomed.

There was laughter threatening to escape his control, hidden in his voice. Mocking amusement in the deliberate non-smile that kept him from baring his teeth in a grin.

"Don't go running now. Not when you've already invited me in." Phrasing. Horrifying phrasing! "You wouldn't want to be rude would you? There are Rules, after all. And you know better. Don't you, little thing?"

I wanted to laugh hysterically. Cry a bit. Fuck. God DAMN IT. FUCK! He's right. Of course he is! He mocking me with it! Shit. Oh god. Fuck, damn it! O-okay... I... I can... I just-!

Fear? Truely is the mind killer. For long moments, I could not move. Could barely bring myself to breathe. My mind, a horrible static. But... like slowly forcing yourself to unclench a white knuckled grip. One finger at a time. I... I made myself focus. Tried to bring my arm up. Miraculously, the vines let me. I held the Contract I had written out.

"Oh? And what's this then? Deman-?"

I could feel the pages leave my hand. Hear the rustle as they were flipped. The ringing silence, as he registered what it was he held. But my eyes were closed. I... I didn't want to see the end coming. Maybe I was a coward for that. But damn it, gods damn it, I was scared!

Ļ̵͎̬̙̲̈̽a̶̡̻͕̐̿̆͜ȕ̵̡̠͕̹̌̎̊̔g̷̡̟̞͓̬̿h̴̦̻̼͌́̚t̶͍̑e̴̹̓̚͠r̶̹̳̺̀̿͊̓

Crashing of horns against horns, the bray of dying beasts. Cracking growing and the fall of mighty trees. Mycelium surging through deep dark soil. Ripping flesh. Hunting cries. Green and grow. GREEN AND DEATH. Green Green Green Green Green Gree-!

"Audacious little pet! Aren't you? Oh, you do think your clever!" Amusement sang like venom and traps yet to be sprung. Dying, dying, DYING-! "Oh dear. Again? My poor thing. Hold still. This 'spiritual partner' will make it all better, hmm?"

The hand was back. Cradling my lolling face. W-when had I? G..Gone limp? I can't feel my legs. Can't feel... can't feel.... c-cant f...feel...

GREEN.

I gasp in air, like a drowning man final breaking the surface. My face is sticky. Blood? Tears? Gore? I am terrified to know. Don't have the strength to lift my own head. My magic is being all but ripped out of me. Faster and faster. Like it's being drained into a bottomless pit.

Something beyond sunlight, beyond growth, is reaching back. The very Concept of nature made manifest. What did I summon? What creature? What GOD?! Did I SUMMON?! Please. Forgive me. I.. I didn't mean too! I swear! Please! P-please!

"You know? It's been far too long, since I've had an excuse. I needed a good vacation. And to think," A second hand comes up to cradle my face, with a terribly deceptive gentleness. Tilting my head this way and that, as though to inspect me. "It comes with a free pet. Oh you're going to be so very amusing, I can already tell."

"But don't worry, pet." He nearly crooned. Clearly warming up to his own idea. "I take care of my things."

"And I can just tell. I am going to adore you."

[goldfades]

heyyy!!! can you write something about devin booker in the 2024 olympics. like when he wins the gold medal, he's going to kiss reader or something like that.

OMGGGG THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA I LOVE IT

Paris was electric.

The air buzzed with energy, thick with the scent of summer heat, fresh sweat, and something almost cinematic—like you were living inside a moment people would talk about for years. The arena was packed, the entire world watching as Team USA battled it out in the gold medal game, the tension so sharp it felt like it could slice through the court itself.

And then—finally.

It happened.

The buzzer sounded, the final score etched in history, and the entire USA bench erupted. Devin was at the center of it all, caught in the blur of red, white, and blue jerseys colliding, his teammates swarming him, their voices lost in the roar of the crowd.

You swore you’d never seen him like this before.

Sure, you’d seen him win before��NBA playoffs, crucial regular-season games, even his last Olympic gold in Tokyo—but this? This was different. There was something primal about the way he shouted, chest heaving, arms thrown around his teammates like he didn’t even know what to do with all that adrenaline. His face was pure euphoria, eyes searching, scanning, like he was looking for something—for you.

You didn’t even have time to think before you were moving.

Shoving past security, past the staff in their navy Olympic polos, past other families and significant others who were waiting for their moment. You weren’t waiting. Not tonight.

You had just barely made it courtside when Devin spotted you.

And oh, God.

The way his face lit up.

One second, he was standing in the middle of it all, a literal gold medal moment, and the next? He was running. Not jogging, not walking—running, straight toward you, like the cameras, the thousands of people watching, the whole damn world didn’t exist.

And you?

You weren’t thinking. You just braced yourself, heart in your throat, because you knew what was coming next.

You barely had a second to react before Devin collided into you, arms wrapping around your waist with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. He smelled like sweat and adrenaline and victory, and before you could even say a word, before you could congratulate him like a normal person, his lips were on you.

The kiss was messy, all urgency and heat, like he was afraid this moment wasn’t real and he had to feel you to make sure. The entire world was still cheering—gold confetti raining down, cameras flashing—but in that moment? It was just you and him.

And maybe that’s how it had always been.

Because Devin had never been one for over-the-top declarations. His love for you had always been in the small things—holding your hand under the dinner table, texting you immediately after road games, sending you pictures of things that reminded him of you, even if they were as simple as a dog wearing sunglasses or a really well-plated meal.

But right now? Right now, he was giving you the biggest declaration of them all.

He pulled back just slightly, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathless. His hands were still gripping your waist, grounding himself, like he needed to hold onto you after the biggest moment of his career.

“I told you,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “I told you I’d do it.”

And he had.

Months ago, when training started, when the Olympics still felt far away, you had been lying in bed with him one night, tangled up in sheets, your head resting on his chest as his fingers lazily traced patterns along your back.

“You already got one gold,” you had murmured, sleep-heavy, comfortable. “You really want another?”

Devin had scoffed, tightening his arm around you. “Of course I do.”

You had hummed, smiling against his skin. “You just wanna kiss me with a gold medal around your neck, don’t you?”

He had chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his voice so sure, so confident. “Damn right I do.”

And now?

Here you were.

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands coming up to cup his face, thumbs brushing against the sharp angles of his jaw. “You did it, baby.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you. His dark eyes were still buzzing with adrenaline, but underneath that? There was something softer.

Gratitude.

Because Devin knew he wouldn’t have gotten here without you.

He had been so young when you met—barely stepping into the league, still learning who he was, still figuring out everything. You had met through mutual friends, back when you were both just kids, when basketball was his whole world and you were just trying to figure out your own place in it.

And he had fallen fast.

Because you hadn’t cared about who he was or what he did. You had rolled your eyes when people whispered about him in bars, when fans interrupted your dinners, when reporters tried to dig for details about your relationship.

You had just been there.

Through everything.

Through the rookie struggles, the heartbreaking playoff losses, the injuries that had left him stuck on the couch, frustrated and restless. Through every doubt he’d ever had about himself, every night he’d come home exhausted, every single moment he had questioned whether he was good enough, great enough.

You had always been there, holding him up, believing in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself.

And he would never forget that.

His hands slid up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like he needed to keep you close. “I wouldn’t have done it without you.”

You shook your head, laughing softly, even though your throat was tight, your heart so full it ached. “You would’ve.”

His lips quirked, but his voice was firm. “Not like this.”

Not with this kind of peace. Not with this kind of certainty.

Not with someone standing on the sidelines, waiting for him, knowing that no matter what happened, gold medal or not—he still won.

The world was still moving around you—his teammates were celebrating, reporters were starting to swarm, the cameras were flashing—but Devin didn’t care.

He had his gold.

And he had you.

And that?

That was all he needed.

[halforresterluvsford]

This was supposed to be posted on Valentine's Day but life happens and I fall asleep in the middle of writing, Oops. I honestly don't know how good this is, and if you see grammar mistakes no you didn't! Enjoy these sappy brosbands!

Stan breathes out into the cool night air, shivering and shoving his hands in his coat pockets. It was freezing in the Arctic. He was glad when he and Ford decided to head for warmer waters a week ago, winter in the Arctic circle is hellishly cold, and while it created many opportune moments for cuddling, he was getting real tired of being cold all the time. He wants to go to Tuscany, try the wines, the tomatoes, and the cheeses. Go to Rome and make fun of the hokey tourist attractions with Ford. Is it probably miserably hot down there and will Stan complain about it? Yes 100%, but as long as he's not freezing his balls off, he'll take anything. Subconsciously, he brings a hand out to adjust himself in his pants, thinking about Ford finally busting out those green shorts-

"Stanley?" He whirls around, hands shooting up out of instinct to protect his face before he relaxes. It's just Ford, good Ol' Poindexter scaring the piss out of him.

"Yeah, whatzit?" Stan asks, ducking his chin in his collar to shield his face from the cold. To also hide his blush. Ford looks good. Well, he always does, but for some reason, he looks really good right now. His hair is combed, for once, he's wearing a spiffy jacket and a pair of slacks that cut really nicely around his upper thighs. Stan has a hard time not staring. Hot damn is he lucky to have a one Stanford Pines as his lover. His Lover, capital "L". Sure it took some used to, getting over the whole incest thing, but honestly? They're too old to worry about that, and they've spent too many years apart to get hung up some trivial matter such as being related. At least, that's how Ford put it, and Stan couldn't help but agree, who were they hurting by being together?

"It's a rather nice night, isn't it? Do the stars seem brighter than normal to you?" Ford smiles so softly at Stan that he feels breathless for a moment, his heart aching at how much he loves his twin.

"Yeah, they-um, they're really pretty, the moon, too." Damn, he sounds like a babbling idiot. Just because Stanford looks extra good tonight and smiled at him so sweetly. You're a weak man, Stanley Pines. Weak.

Meh, he can live with that, being weak for the person he loves most in the entire galaxy. No, the entire multiverse. Stan would risk destroying the world a thousand more times for Ford, and he will if he has to, that's how much he loves him.

"Yes, the moon does seem rather bright tonight, does it not? I'm glad the sky seems so clear tonight, we were fortunate enough to catch it as it reaches fullness. You know, there are stories about..." Stan doesn't mean to tune Ford out, really, but he can't help but get lost in thought as he stares at him. The moon really is extra bright out tonight, gleaming off Ford's hair and reflecting off his face. Ford looks, well good is the only word coming to Stan's brain at this moment, but "good" doesn't really describe how he looks. He looks like he belongs in an old film as the smooth debonair protagonist. Like Hampterfuppinshire from "The Duchess Approves". Moses, he loves looking at Ford, looking at how he looks so much like when Stan saw him for the last time in Glass Shard but at the same time so different. He's taller, broader, stronger, and way hairier-Stan can attest for that. But he still smiles the same, still styles his hair-sideburns aside-the same. His brown eyes still sparkle the same when he talks, full of excitement and life and yearning. That's always been Stan's favorite part about Ford, his eyes. How they look like amber when the sun hits them at just the right angle, a shade lighter than Stan's. How Ford can never hide his emotions, not when Stan can look into his eyes and see how tormented, how pained, or how happy he is just with a glance. He loves most of all when they light up when Ford looks at his family, all together, when he looks at him-

Stan is jolted out of his thoughts when Ford drops down onto one knee. He scrambles, scared that he missed something serious or important when he was lost in the thought of Ford's eyes. He stops abruptly when his twin brings his hands up, cupped. He stares intently at Stan, who's getting steadily more confused and worried as Ford just stares at him. Finally, after what seems like forever, Ford opens his hands and reveals a ring glinting under the moonlight. It's black, dark enough that Stan wouldn't have been able to make out what it was if it was for the glinting of the moon off purple and blue hues in the ring. His brother is still staring, eyes looking at him, he knows that stare, he's staring so he can gather his words to speak in a way so that he wouldn't make as ass of himself. Stan's breath catches in his throat, and he fights to swallow the lump that formed as soon as Ford dropped down. He stares, he doesn't know what to think, his mind moving at half a mile per second. What is Ford doing? Why does he look so determined? And the ring? Stan opens his mouth to-to say something to get Ford to stop staring at him like that, to speak. He doesn't have to, Ford finds his words very soon.

"I love you, Stanley Caryn Pines. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. For me, it's always been you. Through our fights and being apart for 40 years, it's always been you. No one can make my heart sing the way you do," here, Ford's voice breaks a little, and Stan can see tears in his eyes before they're blinked away, "I need you by my side, I have always needed you by my side, even when I was a stupid fool who scorned you for mistake, even when I was raging against you, I have always needed you. I love you more than words can tell, more than I can say, really. And-and I know a wedding, especially at our age and with our relationship, probably seems ridiculous-heh-but I still want that. With you, proving our love to the world. I-if you'll have me, of course. So, will you-will you marry me?" Ford concludes his speech with an important question and a shaky smile, eyes tearing up and hands shaking-from nerves or the cold, Stan can't tell-but looking all the world in love. With Stan. He feels his heart clench so tightly he worries he's having a hear attack for a quick moment before shaking that thought away. He doesn't know what to say or how long he's been standing there silent, but he thinks its been too long because Ford is starting to look upset, his hand lowering from where he kept it up. "Stanley, I-I-"

Speechless, Stan reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box he's kept in there for 2 months straight now, too cowardly to offer it up to Ford. He holds the velvet box in his hands for a moment before he reaches out and hands it to Ford, waiting for him to open the case. He does so, slowly, eyes widening as he sees the old and tarnished ring sitting snugly in the case. It was their grandfather's, Stan inherited it-as Ford-when their father died. It's gold with a ring of silver in the middle. Ford's always like the story behind it, how their grandpa so desperately wanted to marry their granny, but couldn't afford a ring for her, so he gave a-Stan can't remember if it was a Jewelry maker or a metal smith, that part always changed-he gave a someone one of his mother's silver hoops and the gold caps from his teeth to make a ring with. Ford found the story sweet and romantic, Stan never truly understood that sacrifice until he spent 30 years living someone else's life just to bring back the only person he's ever loved.

"Well shit, guess you beat me to the punch, huh?" Stan laughs awkwardly at Ford's silent staring, his eyes going from the ring to Stan himself. "I-um. I got that after pa', y'know. And I-I've been carrying that old thing around for months now, just waiting for the right time," Stan waves his hands as he looks to the side, too cowardly to look at the man who just proposed to him holding the ring he was going to propose with. He pulls at his coat collar, feeling warm and a tiny bit suffocated. "Heh, it's probably not as nice as the ring you got-" yeah, it's probably made from a fucking Meteor or some shit- "but I remember you liked the ring and the story when we was kids s-so." Stan swallows, or tries to, his throat is too damn dry. "Well jeez, Poindexter, say something at least, I'm dying here." But Ford doesn't say anything. He laughs, hard, belly bouncing, head thrown back laughs. Stan joins with some chuckles after a moment, hoping he's not being mocked, that Ford suddenly changed his mind because Stan got him an old and shitty ring compared to his cool sci-fi one.

"Great Minds think alike, Stanley! Hah! I should have known, you've acting odd for weeks now. Well, more than usual, heh." Ford was smiling so wide that Stan's cheeks hurt just looking at it. So, he's not being rejected, that's good. It's great. It's more than great. "And you remembered the ring, oh Stanley you have no idea how much this means to me." If he looks closely enough, Stan can see tears in his brothers eyes, soft and sweet, happy tears.

"S-so 's that a yes to marrying me?" What? He's still afraid of being rejected. Looking at Stan's history, can you blame him?

"Only if you agree to marry me, as well, Stanley." Ford looks nervous, too, but Stan has no doubt in his mind that he'd say yes to his brother's proposal.

"Stanford, I've loved you my entire life, before that, I think. I loved you before I knew you," Stan snatches the cool probably-a-space ring from Ford's hands and crams it on his finger. A perfect fit. He probably took measurements when Stan was asleep. Such a little creep, his little creep. "Yes I'll marry you. Think I'd also propose-no wait, Bropose-"

"Stanley don't call it that-"

"If I didn't?" Stan finishes, ignoring Ford's interruption.

"Well in that case, Stanley, yes I'll marry you, too. You big sap." Ford fits the other ring on his fourth finger.

"Creep, I bet you spent weeks measuring my fingers to get a ring that fits this well." Stan shoots back, he's got to hold on to his pride. He's no sap.

"Says the man who admitted to carrying around this ring for months. What was it you said? You "loved me before you knew me"? Sounds sappy-ow!" Ford rubs his arm where Stan punched him, throwing a pout his way. They break out into boisterous laughter again at the situation, sibling fights after proposing to each other. Can't beat this type of relationship.

"Hey, should I get you a second ring, for your extra ring finger? Symmetry an' all that Jazz?" Stan asks, shoving Ford out of the way to beat him to the door. It really is cold outside.

"Stanley, stop it! I-ugh fine, go ahead." Ford shoves Stan through the door, "I don't feel like it's wholly necessary to do that, but far be it from me to stop you. Should we tell the kids about this?"

"Nah, not right away, at least. We gotta get married on international waters, anyways, no laws against incest marriages here." Stan rubs his hands together to warm them, grinning as he feels the ring rub against his other fingers.

"We could get married far out enough from the Californian Coast to be in International Waters but have the twins there, assuming they'd want to come. Should we have a summer wedding? Hmmm, maybe spring, I want it to be warm enough that no one's shivering, but I do like our summers back in Gravity Falls, and I'd hate to miss out on it, even for our Honey Moon...." Ford talks on as they warm themselves up inside their cabin, pulling out the ingredients for Hot Cocoa.

Stan smiles at his-his fiance's ramblings. Moses, he really does love his brother.