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choerrypuffs · 8 days ago

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AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter ― drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him?

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan.

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.”

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks.

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were.

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough.

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.”

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms.

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents.

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs.

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.”

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship.

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him.

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most.

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man.

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life.

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else.

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.”

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.”

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.”

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.”

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house.

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it.

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass.

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress.

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking.

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh.

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!”

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.”

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt.

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches.

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge.

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…”

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck.

“Mark…and Y/N?”

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck.

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.”

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel.

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.”

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further.

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.”

“Ask Mark,” is all you say.

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over.

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated.

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.”

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched.

You smile.

part two | part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month.

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already.

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home.

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas.

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―”

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is.

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously.

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship.

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan.

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.”

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress.

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though.

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her.

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.”

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!”

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room.

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you.

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks.

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects.

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland.

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues.

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs.

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―”

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in.

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier.

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered.

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him.

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree.

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.”

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?”

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?”

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing.

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.”

“So, what did he do?”

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort.

“What, he cheat or something?”

“Worse.”

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker.

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.”

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?”

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows.

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key.

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.”

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him.

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness.

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.”

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend―maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge.

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge.

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here.

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.”

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind.

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.”

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically.

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.”

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.”

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.”

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you.

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents.

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working.

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you.

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face.

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together.

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you.

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out.

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers.

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled.

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks.

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?”

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing.

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag.

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?”

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage.

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss.

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging.

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face.

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.”

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.”

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him.

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!”

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner.

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye.

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.”

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you.

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you.

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes.

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time.

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll call an Uber or something.”

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset.

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in.

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him.

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?”

“Me.”

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.”

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore.

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer.

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him.

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber.

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body.

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly.

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing.

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow.

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.”

“Sorry. Please proceed.”

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear.

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice.

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register.

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.”

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly.

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away.

“That is, until he met you.”

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it.

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck.

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.”

You smile.

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark.

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way.

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up.

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.”

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.”

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to.

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet.

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :( ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #haechan fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #haechan #nct #choerrypuffs #luvpuffcore collab #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines

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drchucktingle · 1 year ago

Note

Chuck, how do you deal with people who are rude about you and your work? I write queer romance and I want to put my writing out there for people to read, but I'm a very sensitive person and I know it will be hard not to take insults personally and let them affect me. I don't want to let that stop me from expressing myself and sharing my art, but I'm scared!

very good question buckaroo. i am a good example of this as pretty much EVERYONE was rude about my work for many years calling it 'so bad its good' (it is just good) and 'terrible photoshop' (i think it has a great and instantly recognizable style) and 'intentionally stupid premises' (i dont think there is anything stupid about sex being fun and whimsical and playful). even these days the reaction of the VAST majority of buckaroos who discover chuck have this reaction AT FIRST, and then learn to appreciate the tingleverse in a more sincere way over time.

all that is to say BEING DOUBTED HAS WORKED OUT VERY WELL FOR ME. art that changes meaning over time can be very powerful, so if someones initial reaction to my trot is one thing and then it evolves into another thing, well that is just good art. while it can feel bad to get a bad review, i would say a bad review just means you have entered a realm of tension and change and discord and WE ARE TALKIN ABOUT ART BUD so that, in itself, is very exciting.

i think of what i do as 'punk writing', and a big part of that means pushing against preconceived sensibilities. not many other authors will proudly say 'there SHOULD be some spelling errors in my erotic shorts because i wrote it in a day and edited it once. that is the FEELING i want to create', but that is my way. by creating what is in my soul i KNOW i am going to bother some buckaroos and that is okay.

now i am NOT assuming you are also doing punk writing (that is okay of course we all have our own styles. what i am doing with tinglers is pretty rare), but it still stands to remember that there are 7.8 billion people on the planet of this dang timeline and some of them are bound to be bothered by your creations. that is not a problem, that is just part of baring your authentic self.

the other thing to remember is theres no REAL right or wrong in art. it can be analyzed in different ways and i tend to look at it in a way of comparing intention to result, but even THAT is not strictly correct. therefore any bad review of something you make is not actually BAD it is just someones information and feedback for you to take or leave. a one star review is just another opinion, it is no more right or wrong than your own opinion, and that is wonderful. it is freeing.

if i see a bad review of my own book, lets just say CAMP DAMASCUS for instance, i do not get upset because i know this: that reviewer is not wrong. camp damascus is five stars for me, but it is one star for someone else AND THAT IS OK. THAT IS THE WAY IT SHOULD BE. THAT IS GREAT ART. also MAYBE THEY KNOW BETTER THAN I DO. just because i wrote the book does not mean i am the authority on it, and the conversation and tension between those that enjoy something and those that despise it is a creative act. the audience engaging with your work is just your art emerging from its cocoon and saying 'here i am. lets see where i flutter off to now'

do not fear the river of this timeline sweeping away your creations and carrying them where it will. this is inevitable, but it is also beautiful and freeing. you cannot swim against it and that is okay bud, because YOU HAVE ALREADY WON. you have already created something and given a piece of yourself back to this timeline and that is a great honor and privilege. it is literally all there is

by creating ANYTHING you are proving love is real, and that is something to be proud of

#buckaroo lifestyle #art #creation #chuck tingle

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gb-patch · 5 months ago

Text

GB Patch Games: Sensitivity Reader Update

Okay, well I am able to make another statement before Rose does. I can now explain much more easily why I didn’t fire Rose. There’s been new developments with the leakers. The people behind this have doxed Rose’s discord account (please don’t go looking for it) and also shared a screenshot of an email that was sent to my support address months ago. They believe that incriminates us somehow, but really all it’s done is shown in broad daylight what they were doing and why I was defending Rose so much. If I had brought up that email as a connection to this myself people understandably would’ve thought I was making a conspiracy.

However, it is out now. Here is the story- a few months ago someone who wanted to remain anonymous sent me an email with a screenshot where Rose called me a cracker. And I told them I appreciated the concern but it’s alright, was there evidence of Rose being unkind to players? They had nothing. No response.

As an aside, yes, I have been aware for a long time that Rose uses crude language when talking about me. That doesn’t mean I’ve hidden how evil they were from players. It means I’m allowed to choose what I’m comfortable with. That original “reveal” didn’t shock or upset me in any way. Our Life is a sensitive, wholesome game, but I’m a full-grown adult. I’m not innocent or pure. The game I released before OL is XOXO Blood Droplets. Something I wrote and released to the public is full of crude jokes, curse words, and violence. It’s cartoonish and comical, but edgy. Rose themselves likes to BS with bad words and I’m not accepting abuse because I think getting called a pussy is funny. I know Rose doesn’t hate me or wish me any harm. Rose also isn’t causing “discourse” for me and my games on purpose, they were joking that bringing up serious topics is “discourse” to some people. Ironically, the leakers who did this are trying to make some “discourse” on purpose.

Regardless, I initially thought that email was from someone earnestly worried for me and that they moved on when it was clear I was fine. But that’s not what happened. Them and at least one other person have been waiting for months to bring this up again. They went through almost a year’s worth of Rose’s private posts to collect as many unflattering screenshots as they could, and then they didn’t send them to me. They posted them publicly. I had a suspicion from the get go that it was the same person/people from before who couldn’t prove anything to me in private. And if true, how horrible is it that a bunch of the comments they shared were crude language towards me, something they already knew I’d brush off as nothing. They decided for me that it was wrong and they wanted the rest of the players to do the same. Or even less charitably, those extra posts were simply there to make Rose look as bad and untrustworthy as possible and they didn’t care that I was comfortable with it. I could not explain everything we were thinking/feeling at first, but behind the scenes we were discussing how this was personally motivated and not a knee-jerk act without forethought. And we do know for certain at least the main people involved now, and they do have personal issues with Rose.

Also, if you still believe that they just wanted to help the game at any length because Rose is that huge of a risk, showing that email and framing something innocuous about me (not fainting at the word “cracker” and politely being open to more proof) as serious “evidence of wrongdoing” at GB Patch Games makes me believe they want to smear Rose so bad they’ll try to turn players against me as well. Plus, the post is framed as “this email was anonymously sent to me”, but we know from account details that the people who could’ve gotten those screenshots of the discord and email are the same people who sent that email and started this situation, which is embarrassing. I’ve confirmed the screenshots shared in the email to me and the original public post came from the same private, “venting-safe” discord server. There’s very few people in there. We know it’s still you and not a separate source. I can’t prove they think I’m stupid or in their way, but I can’t see how anything they’re doing is trying to be beneficial to the creation of OL: NF. They told me in the email they’d give me more evidence if I requested it and I was ready to know, but instead they went silent for months and then did this.

I want it to be clear that this doesn’t mean players can’t wonder if Rose has enough experience to be a sensitivity reader right now, or to worry they’re so invested in the game that it’s going to effect how objective they are with their feedback, or to say that Rose is flawless and has never done anything hurtful. However, I hope you can understand why I was on Rose’s side and couldn’t just fire them over this. It felt so incredibly unfair. If another person tries to get their way by doing this in the future, I will not hail them as a hero and immediately fire at the target. And I don't tolerate any racial harassment of any kind to anyone on my team.

If those people want to continue to share Rose’s private posts in retaliation, you can fuck off. If you somehow reveal now that Rose is secretly a murderer, I’m not gonna apologize and say I was so wrong about you. If you had tons of evidence of Rose being horrible to players, you should’ve sent it all to me and with full context to begin with in the email like you offered to do. I just don’t understand.

Any players who like to see someone’s least flattering points portrayed in the worst possible way and continue flocking to the leaks as fandom drama, I don’t want you in this fandom. I don’t want you to enjoy my games.

Anyone who has been truly hurt by this and are left confused and angry, I do completely understand that. I didn’t know how to handle this, and it made a lot of people not know how to keep trusting me. I am still looking into getting a community manager to help me better communicate with players, especially when something serious happens. And I’ll always be around for you to reach out to if you have doubts about anything.

#gb patch #gb patch games #our life #our life: now & forever

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azziesbattybaddie · 5 months ago

Text

You are my survival

Azriel x reader

You and Azriel are mates. Az knows it, you don't, that is until a particularly hard training session when the truth finally come out.

Word count: 5k

Requested: no

Warnings: fem reader, shadow play, smut, swearing, choking kink, praise, Azriel's wingspan, oral F and M receiving, Az is a Dom, PinV, we die like men

🔥 means smut will follow

Authors note: this is the first WIP I've finished in like 2 or 3 years so be gentle on me I also wrote this with one of my friends on discord and she is absolutely amazing, constructive criticism is welcome and plz let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy!

"Pay attention."

His words weren't harsh by any means. No, Azriel would never raise his voice at you, but he'd be lying if he said training you was easy. He watched as you breathed heavily, body glistening with sweat. You'd been at this for hours. Clearly, you'd underestimated just how difficult swordplay was.

"I'm trying my best"

He let out a small chuckle, watching your brows furrow with frustration as he managed to point his sword at your neck, Again.

"Gotcha."

"dammit!"

You threw your sword down in frustration and slinked over to the corner of the ring. Before hugging your knees to your chest and sulking.

"I'm done, I'm quit!"

Sheathing his sword, Azriel approached you slowly, his footsteps silent on the straw-covered floor. He stopped a few feet away, giving you space but close enough to offer comfort.

"Hey, hey now," he murmured softly.

"Don't give up just yet."

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside you, keeping a respectful distance.

"Training is hard, y/n. It's supposed to push you, make you stronger. It's okay to feel frustrated, but don't let it consume you."

He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"You're doing better than you think. You've improved so much since we started. It's just... progress takes time. And patience." He offered you a small, encouraging smile.

"And maybe some water? You've been at it all day."

"yeah well maybe I should train with someone else because your a thousand times better than me and you have 400 years of experience on me so even if I am getting better your skill just dwarfs mine..."

Azriel looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. He had expected such a reaction from you, and he couldn't say that he blamed you either.

"You underestimate yourself," he told you gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It may take time, but you will get there. Just keep practicing and if you can't believe in yourself, believe in the fact that I'm starting to feel your progress in your punches." As always tried to joke with you slightly but seeing as he got nothing but a half earned smile he let himself fall quiet.

He sighed deeply, his gaze drifting down to his scarred hands fiddling with them idly. There were things he wanted to tell you, things he wanted to share about his past, but he knew you weren't ready for them yet. Maybe one day, when you were strong enough, he could tell you everything.

Following his gaze, you watched as he picked at his nails and cuticles. You had known Az for a few hundred years now and as long as you had known him he had never shared the story of his warped skin and you had never worked up the courage to ask, that was until now.

"can I ask you a question without you getting upset? You can tell me to screw off if you don't want to answer, I won't push." You said in a timid, whispered voice. Azriel turned to look at you, his expression curious.

"Of course, y/n. What is it?"

He kept his tone calm and non-threatening, not wanting to scare you off. Whatever it was, he would do his best to answer honestly.

"what happened to your hands?"

Azriel's expression softened, and he looked down at his hands, his fingers curling slightly as he remembered.

"My hands... They were burned by-" he let out a heavy sigh, flexing his hands under your gaze before continuing.

"they were burned by my brothers, many years ago. I was born a bastard like Cassian so I was treated differently, even by my so-called family. They it left me with these scars."

He lifted his hands, showing you the intricate network of burn scars that covered his palms and fingers. They were a constant reminder of his past, a painful chapter he would rather forget.

"what brings that question to mind?"

you reach to grab his hand but hesitated before touching him.

"I just always wondered if they were painful they still look painful..."He noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring nod, encouraging you to continue.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, physically at least. But sometimes, the memories can still be quite painful." He lowered his hands, his gaze returning to yours staying quiet for a beat.

"It's alright, y/n. You won't hurt me by touching them. I won't bite or as Cass would say 'i won't bite unless you want me too'" he says with a half honest grin trying to lift the mood slightly.

He held out his hand, palm facing up, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to show you that he trusted you, that he was comfortable with you touching him. "Go ahead, y/n."

you gingerly brushed your fingers over his scarred hand before taking one of his hands in both of your running your thumbs over the back before smile and saying softly

"They always looked soft still..."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he felt his face heat slightly at the praise. He never wanted to feel anything other than your gentle touch on his scarred hand.

"Because of the burns, my skin never calloused so yeah I guess they are."

He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. The warmth of your touch seeped into his skin, soothing the old wounds in ways he hadn't experienced in centuries.

"I never associated touch with comfort before. It feels like home." ' you feel like home' is what he would have said if he had the nerve but kept that thought to himself, thinking it to cheesey to say out loud.

His thumb stroked the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes about the unspoken bond between you two. In that moment, the weight of his secrets and the darkness of his past seemed to fade away, replaced by a simple, pure connection with you.

you lifted your head to look at him only to find him already looking at you, your faces close enough to feel each others baited breaths.

Azriel's gaze locked onto yours, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a wild drum. The intensity of your stare was almost overwhelming, stirring feelings within him that he thought long buried.

He leaned closer, his lips inches away from yours. He could smell your scent, a mix of sweat and something uniquely you. It was intoxicating, making his pulse race and his resolve weaken.

For a moment, he considered closing the gap, pressing his lips against yours and losing himself in the warmth of your embrace. But he pulled back, breaking eye contact, reminding himself of the danger in such actions.

without thinking of the consequences of your actions you shot your hand out to cradle the side of his face turning him back to look at you and meet him with pleading look, begging him not to turn away.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hand cup his cheek, turning his face back towards you. He met your pleading gaze, his own eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear.

He wanted nothing more than to surrender to the desire burning within him, to lose himself in your embrace and forget about his past, his fears, and his responsibilities. But he knew he couldn't. Not yet, at least.

With a heavy sigh, he gently removed your hand from his face, his fingertips trailing along your skin as he did so.

"y/n, we can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I care for you too much to risk putting you in danger. We need to focus on our training, on becoming stronger, you need to be ready for when hyburn attacks."

your pout deepened as you moved back slowly pulling your hand away from his reluctantly as you bit your lip trying to think of something to say to make him change his mind.

"Az we can still train and I've been getting stronger for years, why can't we just," you trail off, not knowing that words for the feeling you felt for him.

Azriel's chest tightened at your pout, a pang of guilt slicing through him as he cut you off. He hated seeing you upset, especially over something he had done.

"It's not because I don't want to," he assured you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

"It's because I care about you too much. If I give in to these feelings now, it might lead to something neither of us is prepared for, not with so much at stake with war coming."

He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips before lifting back to meet your eyes.

"We're mates. I've known for a while but even though we were designed for each other. And right now with hyburn threatening to breach our borders, our lives and decisions can't be about love or passion-it's about survival"

you pull his face back to you for a last time before running the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly

"I know that az, but you are my survival. you said it yourself that your my mate, do you really think that I can live without my mate, without you?" You plead tears starting to form in your eyes.

The words hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless. Your admission cut straight to the core of his being, striking a chord within him that resonated with a depth of longing he didn't fully understand.

"You need my love..." he echoed, the words sounding foreign even to his ears. He'd never been loved, let alone needed. The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I... I don't know if I can give you that. I've never been loved, and I've never loved anyone the way I think I should. you deserve all the love there is in this world, and I don't think I can give you that."

His voice cracked with emotion, betraying the turmoil of feelings welling up inside him.

"you can,"

You step closer still holding his face you pull a hand away to grab his scarred one and place it on your waist and putting your hand on his chest over his heart gingerly.

"You have so much love in your heart that you can't help but let it spill over. You try to act so cold and calloused to everyone but we all feel you how much you love us. "

At your touch, Azriel felt a surge of emotion course through him, his heart pounding wildly against your palm. He stared down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception or manipulation, but found only sincerity and vulnerability.

"You really believe that, don't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That I have love to give?"

He hesitated for a moment, then placed his other hand tentatively on your waist. The warmth of your body seeped into his chilled skin, melting some of the ice that had encased his heart for so long.

"I want to believe it," he admitted, his gaze dropping to your lips once more.

"But I'm afraid of putting you in a dangerous situation that you never need to be in. Afraid of losing control and doing something that could harm you. We both know that my work is extremely dangerous and if you got pulled into that I would never fucking forgive myself"

"Azriel... Your the bravest male I've ever met, please don't stop being brave." You take a final step faces inches apart

Azriel's breath hitched as you closed the remaining distance between you, your bodies nearly touching. He could feel the heat radiating off you, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

"Brave doesn't mean fearless, y/n," he said, his voice low and husky.

"Sometimes bravery means facing your deepest fears, even when every instinct tells you to run." You whisper gingerly brushing you fingers over his leathers laying over his heart.

He reached up, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he tilted your head back slightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm just scared of failing you, of not being able to protect you. But I'm also scared of missing this chance, of letting my fears hold me back from trying to give us the life the cauldron has laid out for us."

"Then don't let your fears hold you back Az, let me hold them instead." You hold his hand over your cheek and guide his thumb over your lip again gently.

Azriel's resistance crumbled under your gentle guidance, his thumb gliding over your soft, plump lips with a tenderness that surprised even him. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he savored the scent of your skin, the warmth of your breath.

"cauldron..." he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

he closed the final inch of distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both tentative and desperate, holding your sides as delicately as fine china.

🔥🔥🔥

you surge you hand up to tangle in his hair and let out an audible cry of relief into his mouth.

Azriel groaned softly into the kiss as your hand tangled in his hair, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lips to explore the warm cavern of your mouth.

As he kissed you, Azriel felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a burden he hadn't realized he carried until it was gone. In your embrace, he found a sense of peace, of belonging, that he had never known before.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, panting lightly as he struggled to catch his breath. "Y/n, I've wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion.

"Wanted to hold you, touch you, taste you now."

"then don't fucking stop now." You practically begged, chasing his lips.

Your impassioned plea sent a jolt of desire through Azriel, his grip on you tightening as he ground his hips against yours, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.

"Oh, god, baby," he gasped, his breath hot against your skin.

"I won't stop, not now, not ever again." His hands trailing down to your ass, gently kneading the flesh under your fighting leathers.

"You're mine, and I'm going to fuck you so hard, make you scream my name until you forget everyone else exists."With that declaration, Azriel swept you up into his arms and winnowed you back to the house of wind before.

carrying you towards his bedroom as he devoured your mouth in a frenzy of kisses, his hands roaming your curves with a hunger that bordered on desperation. your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you and you press your breasts against his chest, mewl desperately against his lips.

The sound of your moans vibrating against his lips was music to Azriel's ears, fueling his already raging desire. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he laid you down onto the plush mattress.

"Gods, babygirl," he growled, his hands tracing the outline of your curves as he knelt beside you, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh. "You're so beautiful, so perfect..."

Without another word, he began to undress you, peeling away each layer of your leathers with a reverence that belied his usual cool demeanor. As he revealed your skin to his hungry gaze, he marveled at the sight, at the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the sweet dip of your navel.

"And you smell divine,"

Azriel couldn't help but lean down, his tongue darting out to trace a path along the delicate line of your collarbone, savoring the taste of your skin. He licked and nibbled his way down your body, pausing to lavish attention on each breast, his tongue swirling around your nipples before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.

His hands weren't idle either, slipping down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm flesh as he continued his descent. His shadows hooked around the sides of your panties, dragging them down your thighs with a teasing slowness that left you squirming beneath him.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered against your skin, his voice a husky murmur.

"What do you crave? Tell me how to make you come undone?"

you reached down to Palm the tent in his fighting leathers at the words and using your other hand to wrap the scared flesh of his hand around your throat.

"I want you to use me, own me Azriel."

At your command, Azriel's heart pounded with a wild rhythm, his cock throbbing in your grasp. He allowed you to control his movements, his hand tightening around your throat in a gesture that was both possessive and protective while one of his larger shadows gently brushed against the side of your face in stark contrast.

"You're mine now, babygirl," he breathed, his voice laced with raw need.

"And I plan to worship every gods-damned inch of you."

With that promise, he slid down further, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thigh, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. He paused just above where you needed him most, his eyes locking with yours as he teased you mercilessly.

"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper. "Do you want my mouth on you, tasting you?"

"gods yes please!" You hold his hand tightly around his throat encouraging him to squeeze harder what you arch your back of the bed in hopes of inching your cunt closer to his mouth.

Azriel's grip around your throat tightened slightly at your eager response, his thumb applying just enough pressure to send a thrill of excitement through you. With a low growl, he finally gave in to your pleas, his mouth descending upon your dripping folds.

He lavished your pussy with attention, his tongue delving deep inside you as he fucked you with slow, deliberate strokes while flicks of dark swirl around your clit. He explored every inch of your sex, savoring the taste of your arousal, the feel of your slick walls clenching around his tongue.

As he ate you out, Azriel's free hand roamed your body, palming your breasts, pinching your nipples, leaving trails of fire and cold in its wake. He could feel your climax building, could taste your sweet submission on his tongue, and it only fueled his own desire.

"come on babygirl, ride my face while you come."

He brought one of your hands to tangle in his hair and wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs encouraging you to buck into his tongue.

Your hips bucked off the bed as you came hard on his tongue, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, your juices flowing freely as you cried out his name, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.

Azriel drank in your release, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as he savored the taste of your pleasure. He held you tight, his mouth never leaving your pussy as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, your cries of ecstasy music to his ears.

Only when you finally went limp did he release you, his face glistening with your arousal. He crawled up your body, his chocolate eyes blazing with a fierce possessiveness as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss.

"Now it's my turn," he growled against your lips, his hands tearing at his leathers to free his straining cock.

"Get on your knees, baby, I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

You eagerly roll onto your stomach and push yourself off the bed and onto your knees Infront of him batting your lashes and staring up at him with lust filled eyes.

Azriel watched you move, his heart pounding with a mix of desire and admiration. Your eagerness was intoxicating, fueling his own need even further. He discarded his leathers completely, revealing his veined cock, throbbing with need.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at the sight of you kneeling before him, your eyes filled with hunger and desire. He ran a hand through your disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in your locks as he guided your head towards his aching cock.

"Open wide, love," *he murmured, his voice thick with need.

"Show me how much you need me."

you took him into your mouth, Azriel let out a low groan, his hips bucking involuntarily. Your warm, wet mouth felt like heaven, and he had to fight the urge to thrust too hard, too fast. Instead, he set a steady pace, his hands guiding your head as you sucked the tip every time he pulled out.

"Fuck, good girl," he gasped, his grip tightening in your hair. "You fucking feel incredible..."You moaned softly as you took him deeper into your mouth working your tongue over his cock, your hands reaching up to cup his balls as you continue to suckle on his cock.

The sensation of your tongue working over his length, coupled with the feeling of your hands on his balls, sent jolts of pleasure coursing through Azriel's body. He watched you, entranced by the sight of your lips stretched around his cock, the sound of your soft moans vibrating against him.

"That's right, baby," he purred, his voice heavy with lust.

"Take all of me... Show me how much you want this..."

He began to move faster, his hips rocking into your mouth, setting a rhythm that had him teetering on the brink of release. His fingers threaded through your hair, urging you on, pushing you to take him even deeper.

"fuck yes! Good girl, just like tha- oh such fucking good girl!"

You moan louder now sending subtle vibrations down his shaft, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck harder on his cock, taking him deeper each time until he hits the back of your throat. You gag softly but quickly recover and continue sucking him off as if your life depends on it.

The feeling of your throat constricting around his cock was almost too much for Azriel to bear. He grunted, his hands gripping your hair tighter as he fucked your mouth with abandon, his hips snapping forward with each thrust.

"Oh gods, baby..." he groaned, his voice ragged with need.

"You're going to make me come so fucking hard..."

His cock throbbed in your mouth, signaling his imminent release. With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled his seed into your willing mouth, his cum coating your tongue and spilling down your chin.

"That's it... Swallow it all..."

Swiping your fingers over your chin you collect the molten cream and swallow every last drop of his cum, your throat working to milk him dry, your eyes locked on his as you gaze up at him with a look of complete satisfaction and devotion.

Azriel watched, transfixed, as your throat bobbed swallowing his cum, your tongue working to milk him dry. He let out a satisfied sigh, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as he admired the look of complete satisfaction on your face.

"You're amazing," he murmured, pulling out of your mouth and offering you a hand up.

"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."

With a smile, he pulled you into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body as he savored the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

You lean into his touch, your body pressed tightly against his as you kiss him back just as passionately, your hands running over his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin.

Azriel dominated you mouth with a throaty moan, his hands exploring your curves with a growing urgency. He broke away from the kiss only long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

"I want more," he whispered huskily,

"but I think we should save some energy for later."With that, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you back to the bed where he laid you down, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked down at you.

You giggle lightly as he lays you back down on the bed, your legs parting slightly as you invite him closer.

Azriel's gaze followed the movement of your legs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he saw the invitation in your eyes. He climbed onto the bed, settling between your thighs, his weight supported on his elbows as he gazed down at you.

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" he teased, his voice low and playful.

He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before giving it a gentle bite.

"But don't worry, love. I plan to take full advantage of that"

Feeling your hands in his hair, Azriel gave a low chuckle, the vibration of his laughter traveling straight to your breasts. He continued his attentions, alternating between teasing your nipples and tracing patterns across your skin with his tongue.

"Hmm, sounds like someone wants more," he murmured, his voice muffled against your flesh.

Pulling back slightly, he shifted his position, aligning his cock with your slick entrance. Without another word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely with a single, smooth stroke.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts back into his waiting mouth as he teases and bites at your sensitive nipples, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in the strands as you pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch.

"Fucking hell, babygirl..." he groaned, his hips beginning to rock slowly as he adjusted to your tight warmth. impatience."

He moved to your other breast, lavishing the same attention upon it, all while grinding his hardening cock against your core. Your back arches off the bed as he fills you, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion. But as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, you relax into him, your inner walls clenching around his thickness.

"Ah... yes..." you breathe out, your hands tightening in his hair.

"Just like that... Don't stop..."

Hearing your plea, Azriel picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. Each thrust drove him deeper into your welcoming heat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he growled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dueling with yours as he fucked you relentlessly.

His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass cheeks, tracing the curve of your waist, and finally, cupping your breasts once again, thumbing your nipples into stiff peaks.

You meet his kiss with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his as you lose yourself in the sensation of being filled so completely. Your legs wrap around his ass, pulling him even deeper within you, urging him on.

"Oh god, Azriel!" you cry out, your walls spasming around him, milking him for all he's worth.

Feeling your orgasm ripple through you, Azriel let out a guttural roar, burying himself as deep as he could go as he found his own release. He came hard, pulsing streams of hot cum inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it.

"baby Fuck, y/n-" he gasped, collapsing forward, catching himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you before pulling out and gently resting himself on top of you, his hips still between your legs and his head resting on your breasts.

He stayed there for a moment, panting, his heart pounding against your chest, before slowly rolling to the side, taking you with him so you were draped across his chest.

"That was... intense," he panted, his fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah... That was amazing." you murmur, snuggling closer to him, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking.

As you lay there, spent and satisfied, your the aftershocks of your orgasm. You nod weakly, a contented smile tugging at your lips.

Azriel smiled, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as you nestled against him. He could feel the warmth of your body pressed to his, the steady beat of your heart against his chest.

"I know, baby," he said softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"And it's only going to get better from here."

His hand trailed lower, his fingers finding your hip, where he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Now rest, we've got plenty of time to explore more later when you can feel your legs again." He taunted with a tired grin.

You sigh contentedly with a fucked out smile on your face, feeling utterly relaxed and loved. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his body envelope you, and drift off to sleep in his arms.

Watching you drift off to sleep, Azriel couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment. Here, in his embrace, safe and protected, with his beautiful mate, it was everything he could ever want. And now, it seemed, he had it all.

With a final lingering look, he allowed himself to relax fully, his breathing evening out to match yours. As he drifted toward sleep, he knew one thing for certain - this was just the beginning.

#acotar men x reader #azriel x plus size reader #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #acotar smut #acomaf #rhysand #rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #lucien x reader

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cupcakeslushie · 13 days ago

Note

Now that 2024 is coming to a close:

1) Of everything you've made this year, which ones are you the most proud of?

2) What are a few of your favorite things (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

1. Probably these two? (I’m leaving out EW comic pages, because I’m so happy to have finished another arc! So that whole thing counts as one lol). Also a pic of my big crawfish piece that sold after six months of putting it out at every market!! I’m very proud of it and happy it went to a good home!

2. This is much harder because there’s an insane amount that had me like 🤩 this year….

This piece of my angry boy, by @kathaynesart! It’s still my iPhone wallpaper!! She nailed the pose and the atmosphere!! He looks so badass!

This piece by @matchstique has also been my laptop screen for so long! (I also loved every single submission for this dtiys! It was my first time doing one, and I’ll definitely be doing another at some point. All the submission were so sweet, and amazing!

@tizeline drew me this for our secret Santa discord exchange and I love it!!!! It’s been my iPad screen! There’s so much whimsy and silliness 😂!!

As for fanfics I’ve been screaming about @qoldenskies’s Canary Continuity so much, it’s probably no secret that it’s my top fic of the year!! It’s just amazing.

A Bird in Your Teeth by stillateenageabomination for my Feral Leo AU absolutely destroyed me. I cried for forever 🥰

Also Service Manual by @fluffydice for my Kendratello AU was great! I loved the way they wrote Donnie’s healing

Neon Void by @sugarpasteltmnt was finished this year and it had me by the throat from start to finish!

Firefight by @remedyturtles was the perfect, equal (okay maaaybe not—more like 70/30) parts angst and comfort!! Amazing disaster twins fic!

@dandylovesturtles Emotional Support Water Bottles series has been great. Dandy is one of the best Rise authors that just absolutely NAILS every single brother’s voice and personality in their writing. I’d list everything else they’ve done this year, just because the second Dandy puts something new out, I am THERE.

And I just started re-reading Lemonade Leak by @turtleinsoup literally last night and read 21 chapters in one sitting, and can’t wait to fully finish catching up.

There’s about a thousand more links I wanna think of, but my brain is like a smooth piece of sea glass, and I can’t remember much more. But this fandom is so talented, I always wanna just go on and on and on for these things!

#rottmnt #ask slushie #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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sohnric · 5 months ago

Text

a brief inquiry into online relationships – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x fem! reader

genre: enemies to lovers au, internet best friends au. friends to lovers au. gamer! sunwoo and gamer! reader. fluff, comedy. sunwoo has a big fat crush and is a bitchless loser but is also simultaneously being very annoying and mean sometimes:(

wc: 20k

warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos/jokes/flirting, the reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and called a girl! i call league players virgins :/ (and im right). certain parts are really chat heavy (but what do you expect from an internet best friend au am i right). the reader is said to have dyed hair! I wrote this with a friend in mind yall just get to read it 😔

there's only one person kim sunwoo treasures the most in the whole world, and that person is his internet best friend. there's also only one person kim sunwoo hates with a burning passion, and that person is you. well, imagine his surprise when he finds out... they are the same person.

playlist: fruit roll ups - waterparks / royalty - enhypen

I wrote and dedicate this fic to @csenke 🩷 happy birthday best friend, I hope you like your little present. I dont like being sappy in public, but do know that I love u the absolute most.

a/n: a HUGE thank you to @from-izzy for beta reading and helping me out with this fic so much, listening to me ramble and cry and hyping me up izzy, it means a LOT. thank you @sanaxo-o for beta reading a bit as well. 🫶🏻 ive wanred to write this fic for literally years so im glad it is finally out hihi.

The first time Kim Sunwoo has ever been accused of having a crush on a girl he hasn’t even met in real life yet was on October 11th, 2023. It was a few months after meeting the said girl online through a Minecraft server and talking to her during the night over a Discord call, not being able to fall asleep after and coming to class looking like a zombie from the deprivation of relaxation. After he said the story to his friend Changmin, he got laughed at and teased– all because he said he didn’t want to hang up on his online best friend yet, and she was so full of energy, and Sunwoo wanted to know what she had to say because she was so adorable gushing over how much she loved Paw Patrol as a kid and how she got some magnets for her fridge from her local grocery store and put Skye right in the middle, where she keeps her shopping list.

Of course, Sunwoo refused this accusation. He does not have a crush on his online best friend– the girl he hasn’t even met in real life yet. He doesn’t like her, because let’s be real, he doesn’t even know what she looks like. Navigating the boundaries of an online friendship was already hard as it was for the boy– was he oversharing? Was he being too much, too annoying at times? – so asking for the girl’s socials outside of Discord or begging for a simple selfie in the chat is far away from the things he’s comfortable saying out loud to her.

And Sunwoo can’t be into her– because he doesn’t even know her that well. He doesn’t even know where she lives or if the name she’s given him online is her legal name. What he does know, though, is that she’s the same age as him, she’s funny and pretty fucking cool, she has obscure interests like the Spiderman movies or collecting albums of her favorite kpop artists, and her voice is nice over the speakers of his laptop when the two of them call and play Minecraft together in the late hours of the night.

That’s not enough to develop a crush on someone, right?

Right…?

The first time Kim Sunwoo starts to question his own feelings for his friend is also, coincidentally, October 11th 2023. See, he might say that he’s not as dull as one would think after looking at him, but after the conversation he had with his best friend in the morning, something started to click. (Mainly because he just couldn’t stop feeling the blush creeping onto his cheeks, bashfulness filling his composure. Why is it so hard to deny the obvious?)

In the late hours of the night, Sunwoo logs onto the Minecraft server and walks around the world he’s created. He is on a mission of cheering his online friend up– she said something about an exam going terribly wrong in his Discord DM’s just a few hours ago, and although he tried his best to cheer the girl up over messages, he thinks he has to go an extra mile to remind her that life is not as rude and that she’s loved even when she feel like a disappointment. (Just the sentiment of the wording in his head is suggesting that he’s trying to stay oblivious to his own feelings– there is no doubt he is failing, though.)

He checks the people online in the server, noticing she’s not there yet– as he expected, since the girl usually logs on only a few minutes before midnight– which assures him that there is still time to execute his little plan. With a pep to his step, Sunwoo’s character moves through the terribly half-assed house he’s built (that his friend teases him for) and opens one of the chests in his underground storage area. After taking everything he prepared earlier– for whatever reason, he’s not sure (or just trying to deny the obvious, once again)– he skips outside of the wooden building and runs towards the portal he built leading to her house last week.

Once she saw the portal outside of her house, she asked him about it. To the question of why he wants easy access to her house at all times, he replied that it’s so he can rob her when she least expects it. Her and him both know she’s not the one keen on mining, so there’s not really much to steal in the first place, but to Sunwoo’s surprise (and relief), his friend dropped the topic quickly, moving on to the next one.

After the vision of his character finally clears and he is left standing right outside of her house– which is a stunning piece of architecture, by the way– he looks around for a bit to find the best place for his little offering.

He settles on the place by the front door of her house and gets to executing his little surprise. Opening the inventory of his character, Sunwoo takes out a bone meal and uses it on the grass blocks next to the door, making all sorts of flowers grow next to her humble abode. When he’s satisfied with the colored petals blooming in their digital world, the boy gets out the pink wool and digs into the remaining dirt blocks on the ground, replacing them with the rosy cubes and shaping them into a small, but telling heart.

He stands back and admires his work for a bit, laughing at the ridiculous actions he caught himself doing. Sometimes he gains self-awareness in the weirdest of situations, and this is surely one of them– he prays his friend doesn’t log on in this exact moment. He would have no other choice but to jump out of his window and kill himself, he thinks.

Still, he follows up with his initial idea and places a chest next to the heart, filled with emerald and diamonds that he gathered over the last week. He worked hard on them and she kept whining that she still didn't have any– and although he’d like to keep them, he figures he can just get more the next time he’s alone in here, mining.

A cherry on top is placed next to all of this– a wooden sign that he types “What if we put our Minecraft beds next to each other? xx” on, against all his thoughts telling him otherwise.

This might be a terrible, terrible idea, he thinks. But the thought of making his best friend smile fuels the boy. Taking one last look at his masterpiece, he snickers. Yeah, Sunwoo. Maybe there really is no getting out of those allegations. Maybe he won’t tell about what he did to Changmin– and he’s lucky the boy doesn’t play Minecraft and has no way of finding out by playing on the same server as the two of you.

Sunwoo logs out of the game, sitting back in his chair. After scrolling through his Instagram for a bit, he hears the familiar sound of an incoming Discord call waking him up from the doom, making him breathlessly accept and wait for the girl’s voice to come out of his headphones, making him feel excited and on the tips of his toes.

“Ya, Steve, was it you who made that cute altar in front of my house?” she asks, making his heart skip a beat.

“Depends,” he hums, “did you like it?”

Every Tuesday afternoon, 6 o’clock sharp, Kim Sunwoo takes the role of the head of the Video Gaming club at his university. It’s quite an easy job, he’d say– since all his responsibilities lay in meeting up with the members of the club in an internet café once a week, playing a video game of their liking– and he also appreciates the fact that he has something to put onto his CV. The extra points towards graduation are also good, and so in reality, he has nothing to complain about– he likes video games and he also likes socializing.

There is just one thing he hates about the Video Gaming club, and that is the fact that Y/N Y/L/N, his best friend’s ex-girlfriend, managed to somehow infiltrate herself into the circle.

Now, you and Ji Changmin dated in the early stages of high school. The two of you met in Science class, and although Changmin wasn’t the smartest when it came to Chemistry, he still managed to make himself your designated helper in all experiments, just to make himself close to you. That slowly worked and the two of you started dating– for 2 months, that is– before you realized Sunwoo’s poor best friend wasn’t who you were looking for and you broke up with him, starting a new relationship with Park Sunghoon, the handsome ice skater from the private school downtown just 2 weeks later.

Changmin cried for three days straight and then one more day after he found out he was replaced, and since then, Kim Sunwoo has decided that he hates your guts– because no one makes his best friend sad.

Every Tuesday afternoon, 6 o’clock sharp, you waltz into the internet café with your friend Aeri clinging to your side, both of you laughing about whatever you found amusing that day. The sound of your laughter is insufferable to Sunwoo’s ears and the sight of your dyed hair makes his stomach churn with acid– everything about you angers the boy, makes him all alert of your presence. For some reason, he can’t control his anger around you– everything you do infuriates him, makes him wish you were anywhere but in the same room as him.

Can’t you read the room? Do you not realize you’re not welcome here? This is Sunwoo’s territory, and for some reason, he thinks you should respect it. You haven’t spoken to each other in over 4 years, but that doesn’t mean he forgot about everything. Maybe you just keep showing up because you know he hates your guts– you do it out of spite.

Kim Sunwoo won’t have that, though. If there’s something about him that he makes perfectly known in the Video Gaming club, it’s that he is awfully competitive– and for once, he tries to use this quality of his for something good: getting you out of the club.

Because he might be the head of the club, sure, but that still doesn’t give him the permission to kick you out of it for no apparent reason.

He figures making your life a living hell for the entire hour or two you’re in his presence every week would surely be sufficient enough. Surely, one day, you must have enough.

“There’s someone behind you, dude, watch out–” Intak calls from next to Sunwoo, helping his teammate out.

Today’s game of choice is CS:GO– too bad for you, Kim Sunwoo is exceptional at shooting games.

He watches his screen and moves his mouse swiftly, shooting the opponent– he thinks it might’ve been Jaehyun or Chan– before they even have a chance at spotting him. His team– Terrorists– are winning by a mile, coincidentally having the best of the best in the group. He’s playing a perfect 5v5 game alongside Intak, Haechan, Yeji and…. and you.

“Do you even have your screen on, Y/N?” he grunts from behind his computer, glaring at the screen. He notices you not really killing any opponents, and even though he understands that not everyone is going to be the best at every video game that gets played over the course of semester, he’s making sure to trash talk you each and every time you’re even an inch away from perfect.

“Fuck off, I’m trying.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” he snickers, pointing his gaze towards you only for a split second to watch you roll your eyes at his comment. An annoyed sigh escapes your throat, making the boy’s veins reek with satisfaction.

“We’re winning anyway, so I don’t get why you’re so pressed about it,” you grunt, tucking your hair behind your ear as you play, momentarily taking your hand off the mouse.

Sunwoo notices your character in his point of view on the monitor– the nickname ‘ceo.Y/N’ shining proudly over the default skin of the terrorist figurine– when a bright, spiteful idea sparks up in his brain. The boy realizes he left the friendly fire option on when assembling the game room, and with that, he’s set on his decision.

You don’t deserve anything nice in Kim Sunwoo’s eyes– which is why he shoots you in the head the first moment he sees you, laughing to himself.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” he comments as he watches your character drop to the ground.

“What the fuck?! Yo, why did you do that?” you gasp, snapping your head around to point your daggers of eyes onto the boy, frustration dripping off your face. It does nothing to ruin the mood of the satisfied boy, only making him shrug and offer you his brightest smirk.

“You weren’t contributing anything to the game anyway,” he shrugs, “might as well sit this one out, Y/L/N.”

Yes. This one surely will teach you a lesson.

When Kim Sunwoo reaches his room after his shower– at 1 in the morning sharp and feeling too awake for the late hour, since all the hot water ran out due to his roommate’s greediness (curse Eric Sohn’s long ass showers)– he notices a notification shining on his phone in bright light, making him reach for his phone with curiosity. He doesn’t have many friends that would reach out to him at the late hours of the evening, since he talks to most of them during the day anyway, and so even subconsciously, as he reaches for his phone, he expects to see his online best friend’s username pop up in the notification bar.

And he was right– clicking on the Discord notification waiting for him at the top of the screen, he already feels his heart skipping a beat, his insides flowing with immediate warmth despite the cold shower he took just a few minutes ago.

Further shaking out the water out of his hair before plopping onto his bed and reading through the girl’s messages, the boy finds himself smiling at her profile picture. It’s a close up of her Minecraft character standing in front of the little display he put out for her– and he can’t help but feel like this is some sort of a soft launch. Of what, he doesn’t really know– since the two of them are far from dating– but that’s okay. It satisfies him enough. Nobody even really knows it’s him who she’s showing off, but to him, it holds the weight of the whole entire world.

sunpoodle [0:22] – a missed voice call sunpoodle [0:35] – a missed voice call sunpoodle [0:36] – so u dont like me anymore sunpoodle [0:38] – i see how it is sunpoodle [0:48] – everything ok tho? sunpoodle [0:54] – a missed voice call

Squinting at the screen, Sunwoo starts to type out his reply to his friend. Before he has the chance to click send, though, his phone lights up with the incoming voice call from her, leaving him to accept it almost immediately. He hears her voice coming out of his speaker after a few seconds of silence, having his ears perk up and heart beat a little faster.

“Damn, took you long enough,” she hums, making the poor boy chuckle. “I thought you were either dead or ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t,” he replies before settling deeper into his bed, going as far as putting a blanket over him to provide himself the most comfort, “I would never ignore you,” he lets himself speak out, a full body cringe taking over him the second he realizes just how far gone and infatuated he must sound with his friend.

“Oh, okay,” she says, “I was getting kinda worried, though.”

“Worried?”

“Yeah, we didn’t speak at all the whole day,” she replies. And she’s right– Sunwoo was too busy the whole day to text her or check in with her throughout the day. He was working on his assignments with Changmin and Juyeon in the library, and then he had to listen to Eric talk about his crush on the new girl from the café he works at. Before he knew it, it was late in the night and all he wanted to do was shower and go to sleep– his plan was thrown into the bin the moment he got back into his room, though.

He might have not put his online friend as his priority during the day but if it comes to sacrificing sleep for her, he won’t even think twice.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, although something inside of him cheers at the fact that she cares about him enough to want his presence every day.“I was just busy with assignments and socializing.”

“You do that?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” he chuckles, poking fun at himself. There’s no doubt of him being an extrovert, but for the sake of hearing the girl laugh through his speaker– his insides squeezing on themselves with violent tenderness at the sound (what a contradiction)– he is content with simply ignoring the fact.

“What’s up, though?” he asks. “You usually don’t call and I have to pressure you into picking up in some way.”

“That’s not true.”

“Kind of is, when you think about it–”

“I just like to be persuaded,” she hums, making the boy chuckle.

“Noted,” he says– and it might’ve been just a figure of speech, really, but there is a secret folder inside of his brain that he calls the girl-he-likes-folder, where he keeps all the information and random facts he learns about his friend safely, until he has a chance to use them. “But really, what is it? You seem uneasy,” he notes, making the girl laugh softly on the other end of the line.

There is some shuffling on the other side before he finally hears her voice again. Sunwoo furrows his brows at the ruckus, but he doesn’t mention it– maybe she’s just moving around the room, doing her own things as she talks to him on the phone. It makes his brain wander, though– imagining her cleaning her room, putting things away. Stacking some old papers or throwing stuff into the trash can. The image of his friend is always hazy in his mind– he was never really the most imaginative when it came to stuff he doesn’t know– but he still feels attracted to the girl in ways he can’t explain without sounding absolutely crazy to an outsider’s ear. He has no clear idea of her features– he doesn’t know how long her hair is, what her figure looks like, or what color her eyes are, but he still knows that to him, she’s absolutely beautiful and no reality he could see would break this image he has of her.

The fact that she’s calling him while going on with her life, as if he is an active, real part of it, makes him smile to himself. Every time the girl acknowledges her friendship with him, he feels like he’s on Cloud 9– he doesn’t really know why he needs that validation, though.

“This might sound stupid, but I just wanted to hear your voice,” she says nonchalantly through the speakers of his phone, and with that, Sunwoo is a goner. He feels the world stop turning for a while, his breath hitching in his throat. Something about the girl’s words makes his head spin and thoughts run laps around the walls of his skull– is it just him, or does that sentence sound strangely intimate?

“Why?” he asks on autopilot– because the annoying voice inside of him needs answers.

“Hm? Oh, I dunno,” she quickly utters out before she makes a sharp turn in the conversation, completely disregarding her previous statement, “did I tell you about that party I’m invited to this weekend?” she asks instead, making the boy shake his head in disbelief and throw his face into his pillow to stop himself from screaming.

“No,” he sighs, “but tell me now.”

“Okay, so–”

The rest of their conversation is drowned out by his thoughts. Don’t get him wrong, he is actively listening to what she has to say– how she doesn’t know what to wear and she’s not sure if she wants to match with her best friend– but he is also subconsciously focused on the fact that the way she talks in her low tone, keeping her voice down to not wake up her roommate next door. It makes the atmosphere that much more sincere and intimate. He finds himself admiring his friend’s excitement and joy, the energy she has when she talks about how her day went and how she can’t stay keeping up with one topic for long– getting lost in the track somewhere along the way, making Sunwoo remind her what she was even talking about in the first place. Everything about the girl is mesmerizing to the boy, and before he has a chance to notice, he’s falling asleep to her rambling on the phone, eyelids heavy in comfort and sleepiness.

“Are you still there?” she asks, receiving only a soft hum from the boy on the other side. “Am I boring you?”

“No,” he half-whispers, “I’m just comfortable. Keep talking,” he says, hugging his pillow to his chest and putting the phone next to his head. He hears a soft scoff on the other side of the line, a kind, sweet voice lullying him further into dreamland.

“Okay, keep using me as your bed time story, then,” she jokes, a tint of faux offense in her tone, “I’ll disconnect the call when you stop giving me fakely interested hums after every other sentence.”

And with that, Kim Sunwoo falls asleep to his online best friend talking his ear off on a Discord call. How could she ever think that wanting to hear his voice was stupid? He understands– he thinks that perhaps, he’d choose listening to her even over hearing his favorite song.

The idea of teaching you a lesson with his competitive nature is quickly thrown into the bin when the next week comes as the game his friends choose for the afternoon is one that he is not fond of. Why does he not like this game, you may ask? Well, simply put– he is absolutely terrible at it.

The love for League of Legends is a telling sign of someone’s virginity, though, so Sunwoo thinks he can take pride in the fact that he is not a bitchless loser by playing it in his free time. (Don’t mention the fact that he is a Discord user and currently does not have a girlfriend. He will ignore it for the sake of his reputation.)

“I’ll go bottom,” Intak says as he chooses his champion in the lobby, making Sunwoo huff. He’s not really good at playing the mage, he’s terribly, terribly bad at going jungle, and tanks and fighters are equally as easy for him to play as learning the Pi number by heart (very difficult). Soon enough though, he finds that the rest of the roles are quickly divided in his team, and that leaves him nothing else to do than to just humbly take the responsibility of the middle lane, equipping the only champion he’s played before– Fizz.

With him locking in his character, the image on his monitor morphs into the loading screen, letting him once again scan the names that belong to his team. Having 10 members in the club is easy enough to divide into two teams by 5, which he is thankful for, but the teams are almost always randomly selected– which makes him angry only at times where he gets the obviously weaker players.

This time around, surrounded by Intak and Yangyang teaming up on the bottom, Soobin taking over the jungle and Yeji resigning on the top lane, Sunwoo is satisfied to see he at least doesn’t share a team with you this time around– because that means he can do everything in his power to make your life a living hell while playing the game.

“Try not to die in the first few seconds, Sunwoo,” Soobin snickers as the game starts and the boy aimlessly moves towards the middle of the map, moving his character with the mouse. Sunwoo only salutes at the taller boy, making him giggle.

“I’ll try not to, boss!”

Sunwoo’s quest in this game is to protect the tower and farm as much as he can– so that destroying the opponent’s tower is easier and opens up the shortest way to the enemy. After seeing how his character moves in the game– don’t make fun of him but after so much time since he last played the game, he’s forgotten– he puts his head into his hands and mourns, noticing that he foolishly chose an assassin. It’s not that they’re bad per se, it’s just that Kim Sunwoo is much better at League of Legends when he has some distance from the opponent. Which, when he wants to attack, is not a feature Fizz awards him with.

Much to his surprise though, the middle lane seems to be empty. There is no one from the opposite team walking up to him and trying to start combat, and that puts him at ease. Maybe he can do his job right– for at least a few minutes before the tower is damaged enough that the enemy realizes they need to protect it.

And so clueless Sunwoo enters the circle under the tower, attacking it with the red minions by his side, veins flowing with satisfaction that hey– maybe he will be successful with something in this game. He surely doesn’t need the validation of his team, but look– all he needs is to not embarrass himself in the process of playing this game. His pride is precious to him.

The talk around the internet café slowly drowns out around him, providing him only a background noise. He doesn’t need to listen to his team’s strategy– he knows he isn’t really included in it, as the weakest link. Hyperfocusing on the game, he almost jumps when two characters suddenly appear from the bushes– not skilled enough, Sunwoo didn’t think to check them when he arrived in the middle of the map– attacking him.

The nicknames aerichandesu and ceo.y/n shine proudly above the characters of Annie and Vi, both of the females cornering him and making him scowl at the screen. You don’t do much damage to him, he notices, but there is something about the way Aeri plays that tells him that he is royally fucked in this game.

Only a few seconds of combat pass before the banner saying First blood appears on the top of the screen, embarrassing him and making the rest of the team laugh at his death. He finally acknowledges that he was tricked, and as the seconds pass of him waiting to be revived, his eyes meet yours from across the room– and oh how he wishes to wipe that smirk off your face.

“As expected,” Soobin chirps from Sunwoo’s right, making the poor boy sigh and cross his arms defensively at his chest.

“They teamed up on me!”

“That’s the point, sweetheart,” Yeji hums from the corner of the room, “you’d know that if you knew how to play.”

“Oh, shut up, you losers…” he grunts as his character revives, making him hurriedly move towards his designated place again, noticing his team’s tower slowly falling apart due to leaving you in there unwatched.

Once he appears back under his tower, he watches you retract from your place. Sunwoo takes this as his opportunity to show you that one on one, you’re not going to win against him– and so he chimes forward after you, using Fizz’s trident to deal you magic damage over the next couple of seconds. The clicking of his mouse onto your character resonates through the crowded café and the banners showing his teammate’s successful kills do nothing to help him focus on the task at hand– but your health bar is slowly dropping, and that satisfies the male.

“Not so strong without Aeri now, are you?” he teases, watching as you aimlessly start to run away from him, no longer focusing on killing his character.

He doesn’t get a verbal reply from you, but one thing is certain– the poor male forgot to keep a check of his own health bar, and while chasing after you with greediness, wanting to be the one to get you down, he foolishly gets shot down by the enemy minion following him. The kill is still written off to you though, and when his screen freezes with the death announcement, he watches you cheer– eyes glimmering and a victorious smile spreading across your cheeks– before you high-five with your best friend to your right.

Turns out that maybe you don’t need Aeri to carry you in League of Legends. At least not when it’s Kim Sunwoo you’re playing against– and that puts him at a big of a disadvantage.

Is this how you feel every time he conspires against you? Because if so, he has to applaud you– you have an awfully big patience. He can handle it for one Tuesday out of the semester, but if he was in your place, he’d be running away from the room the moment he dies in the game again, all because of you.

Running around, out of breath and heaving for oxygen, Kim Sunwoo starts to contemplate if all of this was even a good idea. He should’ve known the whole thing was bound to be a failure when the first mishaps started happening, but against his best assumptions, he decided to go on with it and try to figure things out.

The first thing wrong with this whole entire thing is that it wasn’t even his idea in the first place. Hyunjae suggested that the whole friend group goes to play laser tag at the end of the week, to wind off a little before finals. And Sunwoo agreed– because that sounds like a lot of fun, doesn’t it?– and expected to just read out the details of it in the groupchat. He thought turning up to the place would be the only thing he had to do, but oh how he was wrong.

Lee Hyunjae decided he didn’t really feel like going to laser tag on the single day where all of them were free– which meant that they either cancel the whole thing or go without him. And since Eric Sohn was all too excited for the idea, Sunwoo decided he won’t disappoint his dear roommate– in fears of getting sabotaged or killed in his sleep if he declines– leading into making Kim Sunwoo being in charge of the whole thing because as the only Aries of the group, he takes his leadership seriously when he has to.

And so he sucked it up and called the laser tag place, asking for a reservation for 5. Another failure hit him in the face when he was announced that they can only let them play if they have a group of ten people, and before he had the chance to let the rational part of his brain take over and cancel the plans, he was left agreeing and saying he will find 5 more people to come with them.

Sunwoo figured that Eric, as the born extrovert, will have no problem finding 5 more people for the laser tag game. He was wrong, though, when his friend announced that all of his friends magically have some plans for that exact Friday– he thought that there’s a party that somehow, only the loser friend group he is partaking in wasn’t attending, for some reason– and Eric could only think of one person that would come, which left Sunwoo with solving the issue of finding 4 more people to come to play laser tag with him.

So he brought out the big guns– the Video Gaming club group chat.

sunwhooo [9:31]: hello friends i need 4 people to join us for laser tag tomorrow sunwhooo [9:31]: anyone down meet us there at 5pm

And with that, he considered the task done. Too over with the whole thing and too tired of being the only one with common sense in his friend group, he didn’t check who agreed to his invitation. He figured that someone will either show up, or they will shamefully go home. Which option it’s gonna be is the problem of the day after– in this moment, he needed sleep.

He appeared in front of the laser tag arena on Friday, 4:45 sharp, waiting for his group to arrive. He felt like one of those tour guides in the middle of big cities– all he was missing was a flag in his hand, or an umbrella– either or– waving around and calling out for his friends. Five minutes after him, Changmin and Juyeon arrived, tailed by Eric and a boy that’s introduced to him as Jake Sim– who is, just by the way, a carbon copy of Sunwoo’s dear roommate both with energy and some of their small mannerisms.

Five minutes before they were supposed to enter the arena and get the safety tutorial on how to play, 2 members of his club came up, smiling widely ear to ear. If Sunwoo had to guess who would say yes to his invitation the fastest, Myung Jaehyun and Lee Donghyuck would be first in line– and he was right.

“Where’s the rest of you?” he asked after greeting the boys, and right in this moment, after hearing their reply, was when he knew he should’ve canceled the plans the moment Lee Hyunjae turned down his own offer.

“Y/N and Aeri’s bus was late, but they’re on their way now!” Jaehyun said, smiling ear to ear. “Y/N texted you in the groupchat, but I don’t think you saw it.”

“Pretty sure I have her number blocked,” he grunted under his breath, sighing to himself. Was it too late to leave now…?

“What?”

“Nothing.”

And that’s how he ends up in this mess. You and your best friend arrive 2 minutes late, but you’re still let in– much to Sunwoo’s dismay. Everyone seems to be excited– almost too excited– when they choose to play the game in the complete darkness, and before Sunwoo has a chance to protest, he is thrown into the laser tag game, nothing but a laser gun in his hand and a vest with the sensoring clutching to his chest.

He can’t see anything, he’s constantly bumping into the obstacles, the arena is too big for his own liking– because he doesn’t really know where he is and can’t see anyone else, making him feel strangely alone and kind of afraid– and it’s so hot inside that sweat is slowly dripping down his forehead, making him irritated.

Once in a while, he hears a scream from somewhere inside of the arena when two players meet. He contemplates just sitting on the ground and waiting for the game to pass– not really that mad about being the last one in the ranking– but the last remains of his pride are telling him to keep going, to keep trying.

He’s good at shooting games! What is he doing?

Taking a deep breath in and out, he makes a run for it– hoping he won’t be met with the wall and break his neck in the process (now that would really take the crown for the worst thing that could happen in relation to the laser tag), before he’s met with the sound of footsteps in his ears, making him painfully alert of his surroundings.

Turning his head around, trying to see where the sound is coming from and who he has to protect himself from– or shoot and get some points in, that is– he feels his body meeting full speed with another person, a yelp coming out of their throat right before the sound of clothes rustling and body mass hitting the floor resonates through the place.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, dropping the gun, “are you okay?” he asks, genuine concern lacing his tone.

“Watch where you’re going, for fuck’s sake!” he hears your voice call out of him… and the last remains of genuine concern leave his body at that, irritation swimming to the shore.

“How the fuck am I supposed to watch where I’m going when you fuckers chose to play in complete darkness?!” He yells over the music– that is, just for the record, an atrocious EDM remake mix of early 00s songs– and lets his eyes adjust to the darkness for some more, watching the outline of your figure on the ground slowly appear in his retina.

Acting on auto-pilot, though, the boy reaches out an arm towards you, trying to help you to your feet. The view of your face is hazy in his eyes but he can still make out the scowled expression you offer him before you take his hand and let him drag you to a standing position.

“So much sympathy in one man, wow,” you grunt, shaking your head at him once you’re standing tall in front of him. “Wouldn’t hurt to apologize, you know–”

“This clearly wasn’t my fault–”

He starts, but stops himself mid-sentence when he sees you point the laser gun towards him, shooting. The interaction is short– it goes by almost too fast for him to register it– and before he has a chance to let the sensor cool down and aim towards your chest as well, you’re running away from him, full speed skillfully through the maze.

“Hey!” he yells out, but is much slower at following you. Is he doing something wrong? Why is everyone suddenly so good at navigating the space?

And while Kim Sunwoo is competitive– there was an agreement that the last place pays for everyone’s meal after– sometimes, his spirit is overshadowed by his emotions. Frustrated, irritated and a little mad, although he pays much effort into shooting at his opponents and gathering up all the points he lost while he was aimlessly walking through the place like a blind man, he just can’t seem to catch up and crawl out of the last place.

Standing outside of the room and looking at the scoreboard after, having the rest of the team pat his shoulder and thank for the meal, his eyes land on you as you’re the last one to leave the arena aside from him.

“Looks like being good at CS:GO isn’t enough to be good at shooter games in real life, huh?” you tease, pouting at the scoreboard in mock sympathy. “Thank you for the meal, Sunwoo. I’d like a large fry and a cheeseburger, by the way. Make it extra cheese.”

Maybe he should’ve canceled the laser tag the first moment he wanted to.

You know what? Maybe he should cancel the Video Gaming club altogether, while he’s at it.

Sitting around the study room in the library, accompanied by Eric and Changmin arguing about something and enveloped in a gray, fuzzy hoodie, Kim Sunwoo lets himself roll his eyes at the aimless quarreling and puts the hood of his sweater up, leaning back on the uncomfortable chair. After a couple of minutes spent listening to the fight– that’s about the assignment at hand, just for your information– Sunwoo feels himself zoning out of the room before he’s brought back to reality by the buzzing of his phone on the table with the incoming notification.

At this point of the uneventful afternoon, he would’ve replied back to anyone within a few minutes– anything to pass time, he figures– but when his eyes zone in on the name on his screen, he is left clicking at the Discord bar quicker than the speed of light.

sunpoodle [6:44]: can u call rn? notsteve [6:45]: no notsteve [6:45]: im at the library rn notsteve [6:45]: why

“You can’t just completely ignore that point of the essay, because it’s going to look like we didn’t do enough research,” Changmin argues his point in the background, the loud voice of Sunwoo’s roommate almost startling him as he tries to prove otherwise.

“We can’t just include every. single. point. in it, though, or else it’s gonna become a wholeass bible at this point.”

“Better to exceed the word count than to hand in an unfinished essay–”

sunpoodle [6:48]: oh so u hate me notsteve [6:48]: pretty sure this is emotional manipulation

“What do you think, Sunwoo?” Eric speaks up, turning his head towards the last boy of the three– the only one that hasn’t spoken up about the matter yet. It’s true that he didn’t really do much work on the actual essay yet– only some very, very brief research last night– but that didn’t mean he suddenly felt like doing much more.

“Hm? Me?”

sunpoodle [6:49]: dont care sunpoodle [6:50]: youre probably with some other bitches

“Yeah,” Changmin chimes in, “say your part. It’s three of us here, so the majority will go. What do you think?”

“Oh, I don’t really care…” Sunwoo hums without much thinking, eyes glued to his phone screen.

notsteve [6:51]: ??? sunpoodle [6:52]: anyways i just wanted to show you my child sunpoodle [6:52]: but you’re clearly not interested so

“Are you even listening?” Eric asks.

Sunwoo hums in response, automatized. Did the words really register in his brain? You can bet they didn’t.

“Are you texting that online girl again?” Changmin scoffs, Sunwoo’s ears perking up just a little bit at the mention of his friend.

“Yeah.”

notsteve [6:53]: a child??? notsteve [6:53]: is this another sylvanian families toy sunpoodle [6:54]: no:(( notsteve [6:54]: what is it then notsteve [6:54]: because we both know youre not responsible enough to have a child

“Still can’t believe you developed a crush on a girl you don’t even know,” Eric sighs from next to him, the previous topic of their conversation long gone when it means he can make fun of his roommate for being absolutely, totally infatuated with a girl in his phone screen.

“How can you even know she’s real?” Changmin jokes. “For all you know, that could be a 50 year old white male trying to get nudes out of you,” he adds, making the shortest boy snort at the comment.

“I don’t have a crush on her,” is all that leaves Sunwoo’s mouth, although his tone is not very argumentative– just mindlessly spoken out, most of his attention still glued to his messenger app.

sunpoodle [6:55]: are you underestimating me?? sunpoodle [6:55]: im offended sunpoodle [6:56]: might just block u. and here i was considering sending u a pic of my dog…

“Sure you don’t,” Eric sighs, “because you’re totally not smiling like an idiot right now.”

“Shut the fuck up…” Sunwoo breathes out, rolling his eyes. The smile on his face freezes and drops at the unnecessary comment, but his cheeks grow a soft pink hue to them, only further proving his friends’ point.

notsteve [6:56]: A DOG????”,?” notsteve [6:56]: show it to me notsteve [6:56]: show it to me rachel!!!!

“When are you going to ask her for a picture or something?” Changmin pries, kicking his friend to his shin under the table.

“When she asks first,” he shrugs, “I don’t wanna sound like a creep.”

“I bet you already do,” Eric jokes, making his roommate glare at him.

“Besides, we call often,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I know she’s not a 50 year old man. And so far, I’m content with this. It’s not like it would be going anywhere in the first place.”

“You don’t know that,” Changmin says, and something about that sentence makes Sunwoo momentarily glance away from his phone screen, furrowing his brows at the male.

“Yeah,” Eric chimes in, “you don’t even know where she lives. For all you know, she could be just down the street and you two could be going on embarrassing lan party dates together, or something.”

“Or– and get this–” Sunwoo ironically argues, “she could live on the other side of the country. Which, logically speaking, is much more likely.”

“You never know until you don’t ask,” Changmin shrugs, “I mean, it doesn't hurt to know.”

Shuffling his feet under the table, Sunwoo thinks to himself. There is a reason why he never really asked his online best friend any personal questions– and that is because he was simply afraid. Afraid of what he might find out.

No matter the distance, it’s scary for Sunwoo to know about his friend’s whereabouts. Because if she lives far, it means the chances of ever meeting her are unlikely. If she lives close, the chances rise– but he’s also completely terrified of the chance to meet her because, to put it blankly, he is petrified of the image his online friend would have of him when she meets him in real life.

Hiding behind the cloak of the internet is much easier for the boy. His friend doesn’t know what he looks like, what his mannerisms are in real life. And it’s not like he is faking his personality online– because truth be told, he’s acting the same way in his Minecraft server then he would in any real life situation– it’s just that he is strangely insecure of if he’d still be liked in the same way, had his friend met up with him in real life. He’s nervous of awkward silence. He’s stressed out about the fact that maybe he won’t click as well with the girl he met online. It’s all strange and new to him, and that’s why he never really dares to ask.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “it’s all just kind of weird.”

At this point, he doesn’t know if he fears meeting up with his friend online, or never seeing her with his own two eyes more.

sunpoodle [6:57]: doggo sunpoodle [6:58] – sends one picture sunpoodle [7:02]: wow youre ignoring me again sunpoodle [7:05]: why do i even try at this point… sunpoodle [7:08]: teaching my dog to bite u if he ever meets u irl notsteve [7:09]: how are u gonna do that notsteve [7:10]: BUT OMG THATS SUCH A CUTE DOG notsteve [7:10]: BEST BOY sunpoodle [7:11]: i have my ways… sunpoodle [7:11]: but he says thank u so i guess we will let it go for now

Sunwoo chuckles at your reply, making the rest of the boys in the room look at each other with knowing eyes, shaking their head in disbelief. It’s not that they’re disapproving of their friend’s little (big) crush on the girl he met online– they’re supportive of whatever makes their dear bundle of sunshine happy– they just fear that this whole thing… might not end the best for the young gamer.

notsteve [7:12]: u like me too much to make your dog bite me notsteve [7:12]: admit it sunpoodle [7:13]: im resuming with my lecture!! sunpoodle [7:13]: he is small and fat but he is strong. do be afraid notsteve [7:14]: all that for not paying attention to you for 5 minutes? notsteve [7:14]: your actions speak for themselves, honey <33

“Right…” Eric awkwardly clears his throat, calling the attention of the enamoured boy, “shall we dwell deeper into your online relationship, or do you want to help us with the group essay for a change?” He asks while kicking the boy into his shin lightly, to make sure he has his full attention.

“Essay please,” he replies, nodding to himself. There is no way he is going into details of the embarrassing crush he has on the girl living in his phone.

sunpoodle [7:15]: what can i say life isnt fun without my jasper :// notsteve [7:15]: try not to die as i work on this assignment sunpoodle [7:16]: dont lie u dont do those notsteve [7:16]: unfortunately i do:(( notsteve [7:16] – sends one picture

Sunwoo points his camera so only a part of his laptop is shown with the study room in the background– making sure neither his friends or him are in the picture– before sending it to his friend. It’s not like she needs proof– Sunwoo knows that despite the playful teasing, she understands his need to put in some work into his education– he just feels like slowly testing the waters with sharing more and more of his real life with his online best friend.

“Okay, so let’s get back to what we were talking about before,” Changmin says, “I was thinking we should at least briefly talk about the points that are against what we’re trying to argue here, but Eric says it would completely disregard like, half of our work, so…”

sunpoodle [7:17]: wait is that at SNU notsteve [7:18]: yea notsteve [7:18]: how’d you know sunpoodle [7:18]: oh my god ?? sunpoodle [7:18]: i study there too

You know what? Forget the assignment– it’s due in a week. It can wait 7 more days.

“Guys, uh…” Sunwoo hums, hands shaking and his heart doing somersaults in his chest, “I’d actually like to go back to the topic of my online friend for a sec…”

Although Kim Sunwoo feels like the world stopped turning– or shifted in its axis, either or– since he learned about the fact that his internet best friend goes to the same university as him, and therefore, could be just about anyone he sees in the halls on a day to day basis, much to his dismay, it did not. The world didn’t stop turning and nothing really changed, all events happening around him as if he wasn’t just gifted with the life changing information: and that meant that besides the exam week fastly approaching him, he still had to host the Video Gaming club the Tuesday after.

He still has to turn up to the internet café and take the attendance sheet with him, even though the groupchat announced to him that they’re all going to study for the incoming exams instead. Because the rules are rules– as the head of the club, Kim Sunwoo has to host the meetings every week, or else the rights for the club will be revoked and all the privileges that come with having one will be taken away from him before he even has a chance to blink.

It’s already bad that he will be the only one on the attendance sheet– if he doesn’t decide to fake some signatures, that is– but now, he is alone and bored, and as it turns out, playing games alone isn’t as fun as playing them with someone else. The competitive nature in him yearns for multiplayer games, it longs for the social contact he so effortlessly has with someone when playing a video game with them. He thinks he built a decent group out of the other video game lovers at this university, and he didn’t even realize it up until now– when he’s sitting alone in the internet café, in the far back on one of the couches.

At least he has the chance to test out the new Playstation console they installed here.

Legs spread wide on the small couch, having the whole place for himself, Sunwoo turns on the Test Drive Unlimited game, clicking through the settings. He is not a big fan of racing games in general, but he figures it’s the only game that he can play alone and still have at least some fun, and so after picking out a fancy car to drive around the world, he focuses on racing and fulfilling the side-quests the best he can.

Until a figure squeezes itself right next to him, startling him. “Oh, Jesus!”

“It’s Y/N, actually,” you snicker, making the boy’s mood drop at least two notches, eyebrows furrowing at your sudden arrival. What are you even doing here? He thought no one was available this week?

“You came?” he asks, and despite the sincerity of the question, the tone sounds kind of spiteful.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “am I not allowed here? I thought the club is on every Tuesday?”

“It is,” he agrees, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “I just didn’t expect you to come.”

“Didn’t expect, or didn’t want?”

“Both,” he grunts, before he turns his head towards the screen again, ignoring your presence completely. The noises coming out of the console provide you two with some background music, but it’s still not enough to diffuse the tense atmosphere. Sunwoo hates every second of you by his side– your thighs touching in the small space due to his dominant manspreading– even the sound of you breathing making him immensely annoyed.

“What’s your problem with me anyway?” you suddenly speak up, breaking the silence. Something about the way you ask the question puts a dagger through Sunwoo’s heart, for some reason, but he doesn’t dare to drop his tough facade.

“I don’t like you, that’s all,” he shrugs nonchalantly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he focuses back onto the game, trying hard to not fail at his sidequest. Everything but focus on the difficult conversation beginning to take place right in this moment, right?

And why do you even care? It’s not like the two of you are friends– anything close to that, even.

“Why?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “I mean, I don’t get it. I did nothing wrong, and you seem to be getting on fine with the rest of the girls, so I don’t think that’s the problem here,” you lightly laugh, trying to take some weight off the situation.

Sunwoo’s jaw hardens. He doesn’t want to have this conversation right now.

“At first I thought it was just harmless teasing, something you do for fun or attention, but then I realized you were being serious about it, so I really… I really just wanna know what’s the deal behind all of this,” you grunt, swinging your arms in the air at the last word, putting more emphasis on the end of the sentence. You’re starting to get frustrated, and that’s slowly ticking off Sunwoo’s patience.

“Oh, you don’t know?” he scoffs, turning his head to you. “Then you’re even worse than I thought.”

“What are you even talking about?” you yelp out, the eyes of others in the internet café turning towards you with furrowed brows, annoyed glares pointed at your little commotion due to being disturbed while playing their favorite games.

“You’re my friend’s ex, that’s why,” he mutters, before scoffing at you and pointing his eyes back to the TV screen.

There is a moment of silence following his confession. He’s not sure what is the reasoning behind it– if you’re rocking your head, trying to remember what he’s talking about, or if you’re just shocked that he is so loyal to his friend. Maybe you’re in disbelief. Maybe you feel ashamed. Truth be told, Sunwoo doesn’t really care.

“Ji Changmin?” you ask, suddenly sounding surprised. “This is about Ji Changmin?”

Sunwoo hates the way you sound almost… amused?

“You can’t be serious. That happened over 4 years ago! There’s no way either of you is still hung up about that,” you say, shaking your head at him in disbelief.

The boy snickers, talking to you, but not really offering you any eye contact as he continues on with his game. “Maybe you didn’t think it was serious, but I surely won’t like someone who did my friends wrong.”

“Sunwoo, we were kids.”

“Does that mean it didn’t count?” he scoffs.

“Yeah, basically,” you bluntly agree, a bitter laugh escaping your throat. “Ask Changmin. I’m sure he barely even remembers–”

“Well, I remember him crying over you for two weeks straight, so maybe stop bragging into spaces where you’re not welcome,” he snaps, finally looking at you.

He chose a bad moment to have eye contact with you, though. The second the words leave his mouth, hurt flashes by your face, your expression instantly dropping. Your orbs get a little sadder and there’s a wrinkle between your eyebrows that makes Sunwoo’s stomach drop, guilt washing over him in waves strong like tsunami. Realistically, he shouldn’t care about hurting your feelings– by his logic, you must have even deserved it– but there is something in him that wants to physically crawl out of his skin and give himself a big, fierceful slap across his face for the words he just said.

Because who is he to tell you you’re unwanted in the club? The other people there like you. Everyone gets on with you just fine– it’s not Sunwoo’s right to ban you from the space he created, just because he has personal vendetta against you.

You’re not even doing anything wrong… Maybe he did fuck up.

“O-okay–”

“No, wait,” he hurriedly says, reaching out an arm towards you instinctively so he can stop you if you wanted to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… I care about my friends a lot, that’s all. It’s… nothing personal,” he explains, humming to himself.

Except he’s lying, and you both know that. Everything about this was nothing but personal– the targeted jokes, the mean comments, the rude energy he has towards you any time you show up. Everything about his behavior and his annoyance whenever you are around is personal, because it involves you, and only you.

There’s no way he can save himself now, though. The words are already said and out there, and even though he regrets them, there is no way Kim Sunwoo is apologizing.

A cloak of silence falls over the two of you again but this time, it’s slowly eating Sunwoo alive. It’s biting on his arms and crawling on his insides, carving out every harsh word he’s said to you into skin, making it unbearable for the boy to continue just aimlessly sitting next to you. He has to do something.

“Do you want me to leave?” you ask in a soft, quiet voice– a tone slightly familiar to him. It makes his ears perk up and his stomach squeeze on itself. It’s a weird, visceral reaction, but he won’t really allow himself to put much importance into it.

Instead, he sighs and turns to you with the controller in hand, offering you a soft, guilty smile. “No,” he shakes his head, “you can pick your own car and play for a while as I order us some snacks, if you wanna. I’m also pretty sure there’s Smash bros on it, in case you wanna play with me when I get back.”

The air is tense and awkward, and Sunwoo curses himself from the way events unraveled. He feels like he is betraying his best friend, in a way, but the guilt he carries in him is too big to not try to dissolve.

You take the controller from him and nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. He thinks this might be the beginning of truce– not a friendship, just tolerance– between the two of you, but he is soon taken out of his delusions when he sees you clicking off the game and opening Smash bros instead.

In that moment, he knows he is going to get his ass kicked, and he knows it’s going to be personal.

The remote control in his hands feels like a weapon after he managed to finally stick the strip of LED lights all around the ceiling– and with how things have been going (the previous ones not working and them falling down every few seconds this time around), it might as well turn into one if it turns out he failed at installing his newest room decor again. He will use it against himself, he thinks– there is not much will to live left in him after the whole day, leaving him weak and exhausted.

Praying a little before trying for one last time, Sunwoo clicks on the red button of the remote control in his palm, squeezing his eyes shut– and after wishing on all 11:11s and all eyelashes, it seems– the LED lights finally turn on and illuminate his room with a dark red glow that he quickly turns towards a more muted purple, because it’s easier on his eyes and he kind of doesn’t want his room to look like literal hell upon walking in.

The boy’s heart leaps in his chest. It finally worked– he is every gamer girl’s dream! (And to stay true to the statement, he reaches towards his phone, clicking on the Discord app, approaching the one he dreams about.)

notsteve [10:45]: ive got these really sick lights if u wanna come over ;;) notsteve [10:45]: they tried to scam me twice but omg look notsteve [10:46] – sends 1 video notsteve [10:46]: they can change colors hihihii

Ever since the moment Kim Sunwoo learned that his dear online best friend loves to be persuaded– her words, not his– alongside with the new knowledge of the fact that they both walk across the same halls and visit the same lecture rooms, the dynamic he had with the girl shifted just the tiniest bit.

First of all, they call more often. Not only during the late hours of the night, but also during the day– whenever either of them feels like chatting for a while. There is also an increased volume of voice memos and random pictures of their surroundings, which didn’t use to happen before. And believe me, Sunwoo doesn’t want to honk his horn too much, but he swears the amount of casual flirting increased at least twice the size– from his side anyway. But he promises his friend is reciprocating! Hell, she even starts it sometimes! You have to believe him.

sunpoodle [10:47]: and here i thought you died notsteve [10:48]: almost notsteve [10:48]: i couldnt get it up :(( sunpoodle [10:48]: i didn’t know that was a problem ://

Sunwoo snorts at that, heat rising to his cheeks at the comment.

notsteve [10:49]: god i hate u notsteve [10:50]: no that’s not a problem for me sweetie notsteve [10:50]: i can show you if u come over cough

The moment he sends the last message, he regrets it. Every day he spends talking with his friend, the boundaries and lines get pushed and pushed, and he can’t seem to know why. Is it the prospect of maybe meeting her one day? The idea of somehow sweeping the girl off her feet and getting to know her beyond the level that the online space gives him– in a more deep, personal way?

Why does the idea of getting to see her with his own eyes, the idea of touching her, make the poor boy so flustered and excited? It’s not like either one of them actually initiated any real meeting in the first place– all of it was just half-jokes and invitations. He wonders when the day comes when he will be able to just nod and say yes to any of it– he wonders when she will feel comfortable enough to actually set a time and place, ordering to meet him there. He would drop anything– cancel any plans– just to run and meet her.

sunpoodle [10:53]: i could get convinced sunpoodle [10:53]: to see the lights irl i mean sunpoodle [10:54]: nothing else…..cough sunpoodle [10:54]: youll have to clean first tho

After the replies flood in, Sunwoo immediately relaxes. The girl doesn’t seem uncomfortable– quite the opposite, actually– and so he takes it as a sign to continue the playful nature of things, subtly pushing the idea of a meet-up more and more. For some reason, Sunwoo feels like it should happen soon– although no time is running out, he feels pressure somewhere in the bottom of his stomach and quiet buzzing in his fingertips any time the thought of his friend crosses his mind– and he knows it will only go away if he finally meets the girl. (Or it might even get worse– either way, he desperately needs to find out.)

notsteve [10:56]: my room is super clean!! notsteve [10:56]: and my bed is comfy sunpoodle [10:57]: proof or im just gonna assume youre lying

The boy tussles in his bed, his hair getting messy in his sheets. The music playing in the background only further pushes the intimate atmosphere, and so after receiving your message, he doesn’t waste much time in opening his camera and putting effort into the angle of the picture he’s going to send you.

He makes sure not much of his face is shown. His phone screen mirrors mostly the white fabric of his pillow– that is now tinder purple with the LED lighting– but in the right corner, the majority of his tousled hair is shown. It looks soft against the sheets and he makes no real effort in tidying it, since he thinks it adds to the aesthetics of the picture. A glimpse of his face appears in the picture as well– only his left eye, though. It looks sleepy, hooded, and after squinting at the screen for a few seconds, Sunwoo decides to hit send.

The line is once again pushed a bit farther, making him wonder if his friend will follow in his footsteps and send a similar photo back. It’s secretive enough, yet also daring enough to make the other side wonder and fantasize– what does the rest of his face look like? Did she see him around? Does she recognise his face?

…does she find the glimpse attractive? (God, Sunwoo, get a fucking grip!)

notsteve [11:02] – sends one picture sunpoodle [11:03]: i feel like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time

The reaction makes Sunwoo’s heart pick up at pace, a dumb smile running to his cheeks. If anyone saw him right now, he’d get bullied and picked on until the rest of his life– it’s hard to hide the feelings he tries to keep under control, though. It’s already difficult enough to deal with them on his own– he bets bottling it all up and pretending they don’t exist would even result in making it all that much harder.

notsteve [11:04]: WDYMMMMM notsteve [11:04]: be serious for once sunpoodle [11:04]: oh i AM serious sunpoodle [11:04]: i mean that bed sure does seem comfy o:))

Sunwoo feels like he is going to faint soon. Hell, he feels like the world is suddenly turning faster and it’s hard to keep up.

notsteve [11:05]: i heard its even comfier when you cuddle i mean what who said that sunpoodle [11:06]: im open to trying that out for myself

There are pools forming in Sunwoo’s palms during the course of the conversation, but they only deepen when he realizes that maybe he has to be the one to make the first step and initiate something actually real. Something that isn’t just mysteriously looking selfies in the chat or silly conversations about cuddling and meeting up that could turn into reality, but aren’t, and for what reason is making him absolutely insane.

And so he picks up all of his remaining courage and starts crafting the message inside of his head. How does he bring it up? How does he make it sound real? Like he’s being serious– that he wants to meet her and will turn crazy if it doesn’t happen soon?

The semester ends in a few days and lord knows if his friend lives anywhere near the campus. Knowing that he wasted his only chance and opportunity would absolutely destroy him, no matter if it’s Christmas or not.

Before he has a chance to send the carefully crafted message, though, the tone of a new message in his phone makes his attention perk up, reading out the words she’s sent to him via Discord and making his heart drop to the deepest pits of his stomach.

sunpoodle [11:10]: in all seriousness tho we should hang out sometime sunpoodle [11:10]: since we live on the same campus and all lmao sunpoodle [11:10]: (im trying to be so normal about this)

Well, that’s sudden. And unexpected. The boy feels himself grinning, resulting in biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming out. It’s finally happening– and he wasn’t the one having to write it down first. It’s not only him that seriously wants to meet up, and that has him metaphorically bouncing against the wall of his newly decorated room.

notsteve [11:10]: oh my god its happening notsteve [11:11]: everyone stay calm sunpoodle [11:12]: LMAO bE SERIOUS FOR ONE SEC sunpoodle [11:12]: would love to meet outside of ur bedroom first tho notsteve [11:13]: omg ofc that was just a jokey joke notsteve [11:13]: just tell me when and where n ill be there notsteve [11:14]: im free literally whenever except from when im not and even then ill make sure i cancel any other thing sooo sunpoodle [11:15]: what about after exams? sunpoodle [11:15]: im busy on tuesday but i can do any other day sunpoodle [11:16]: they opened a new café close to the campus if u wanna see?:)

Sunwoo feels on Cloud 9. It’s finally happening and it’s so close– in just a week. More than 7 days, sure, but it’s still close enough– much closer than never, as he once presumed. Tussling a little in his bed, he makes sure his mouth is covered with his pillow before he lets out the scream he’s been holding for the last few minutes.

If Eric hears him, Sunwoo is gonna try to convince him that he just stubbed his toe. Nothing else.

The boy is painfully aware of the fact that he’s acting like a teenager in love for the first time– kicking his feet, giggling, thinking of his crush before falling asleep– but frankly speaking, he doesn’t really care. In just over 7 days, he can prove Ji Changmin and everyone wrong: he doesn’t have a crush on someone he hasn’t met before. Because in just over 7 days, he will meet the presumed love of his life and look at her with his own two eyes for the first time.

That day somehow feels more important than his own birthday. Maybe he should get the date tattooed… He’ll think about it.

When he finally takes his face out of the soft pillow, he notices his room went dark. When he reaches for the remote that belongs to the newly installed LED lights, he finds it not working. In any other circumstances, he’d consider either drowning himself in his bathtub or jumping out of his window– since he and Eric live on the 6th floor, it would be high enough to cause the damage needed– but right at this moment, he feels like nothing could ever break his mood again.

notsteve [11:20]: about the lights tho…

Sunwoo doesn’t really know how he grew to love video games. If he really thinks about it, perhaps he could say it was just how boys always turn out– fascinated with anything electric that had a cord attached to it (he once managed to make the power go out for the whole street when soldering his old pair of headphones that stopped working in one ear), but there was also something so fun about gaming that managed to make the boy stick to it– and that thing was how easy it was to make friends during it.

When he was little and his dad bought him his first game boy for Christmas, he not only managed to boost in front of everyone at school during recess by playing with it, but he also managed to lend the device to everyone who stared at it with even the tiniest bit of desire in their eyes for too long. Sunwoo knew not everyone was as fortunate as him, and playing it was so fun– he thought no one should go without trying the game boy at least once. The other kids at the playground kept going back to him to play with his toy and the friendships eventually blossomed to the point that the people around him stayed even beyond the video games– and that’s how Sunwoo met his first ever friend, Ji Changmin.

Sunwoo always liked having a group of people around him. He enjoyed when his friends from high school would come over to his house and play with the Playstation console he begged for his birthday. He didn’t mind anyone borrowing his phone during class and trying to solve the most difficult level of Geo Dash (since he’s the one that got the farthest in the game), because it meant he got to talk to the desperate gamers during break and have someone to run to the convenience store to buy snacks with afterwards.

He loved going to internet cafés, because even though the initial friendship he had with Eric Sohn and Lee Juyeon came around because they asked him to play Valorant after finding the poor boy alone, waddling into the place completely lonely during his first week of university, the bond got deeper and he can’t imagine his life without the two men in it anymore.

Sure, video games are fun. He likes to play shooting games because he enjoys winning. The competitive nature in him thrives during video games– he loves to tease his opponent, he loves to show that he’s the best. Yeah, Kim Sunwoo enjoys spending his time in the virtual world, escaping the mundane reality. But if he really dwelled deeper on it, he doesn’t think playing Minecraft would be as enjoyable if he didn’t talk to his online friend on the server every day, or if him and his friends didn’t go out and eat dinner together after a round of Overwatch in the late hours of the day.

Which is why he created the Video Gaming club in the first place. To connect people– to play games with the ones who need a buddy in their life. It made him smile to see people that met because of his club hanging out together even outside of it– he felt like he was doing something good. Sunwoo prided himself in the fact that he was the one to connect people together through his hobby, that he could share precious moments and make precious bonds in his circle through gaming.

Maybe that’s why the last meeting of the club for this semester made him so emotional. Truth be told, he didn’t think the Video Gaming club would make it big– hell, he thought not many people would care to show up each time. As a pat on his back of some sort, Sunwoo decides that the last game of the winter semester should be his favourite.

“Can’t believe you got us playing Minecraft of all games, what are we, 11?” Chan mutters from next to the club leader, making the boy snicker.

“Just say you’re embarrassed about the nickname you chose when you were 11.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Okay, mega_dino, I’ll believe you,” Sunwoo hums and nods, hearing his friends giggle as the younger one takes a hold of his gaming mouse.

Squinting his eyes at his screen, the club leader makes sure everything is set before the game starts. He already moved all of his important items from his main house into an underground hiding place of which coordinates he’d written down before getting to the internet café– knowing that his friends would want to sabotage him as soon as he lets them play on the server he carefully created. He knows letting them play on a different one would be much easier, but he kind of prefers to have the upper hand of owning a couple of diamond swords already, and he’s also too lazy to set up a new one. (And he would have to pay for it– which he isn’t really a fan of. Money is tight when you have to buy new LED lights off Temu every other week.)

“Are we starting already? I miss Minecraft,” Intak whines from the other side of the table, a glass of coke sitting in his hand.

“Why are you saying it like it’s a children’s game?” Sunwoo shakes his head at the comments. Ever since he announced the game of choice for the week, all he’s gotten were either complaints or dreamy sighs about how nostalgic it’s gonna be. Is Minecraft not cool anymore? Should he get a new hobby?

“Kinda is,” Yeji laughs, making the boy roll his eyes at her.

“You’re just mad you’re missing out on all the fun,” he argues, “heal your inner child a little. Make that pretty house you’ve always wanted!”

“I fuck with Minecraft,” an innocent voice lands into his ears from the opposite of him– a voice he would often curse out and cringe at just because of it’s sheer existence in his proximity, but now tolerates in favor of keeping peace in the room. The comment still startles him, though– he didn’t expect anyone to agree with his point. Not if it’s you, anyway.

“Can’t believe you two finally agree on something,” Aeri sighs from your side, the girl always glued to your hip. “You do realise you’re having an advantage if you’re letting us play on your server, though?”

“It’s not like we’re playing extreme survival tournament, come on guys–”

“You aren’t,” you shrug, “don’t really know about the rest of us,” you comment, meeting his eyes with a smug look, a teasing grin slowly slipping its way onto your lips.

“I’m banning anyone who tries to kill me today from the club,” Sunwoo suddenly announces, making everyone sigh at the dramaticness of his theatrical words. “Forever.”

“You can’t ban anyone over a game–” Haechan chimes in, but is cut off by his peer instantly.

“I will call it harassment and bullying,” Sunwoo shrugs, “try to argue with that.”

“You’re just begging to get targeted at this point,” Aeri mumbles, shaking her head at him. She’s right– but Sunwoo is also kind of confident in his defence abilities.

Unless he gets ganged up on, of course.

Which could happen– truth be told, he’s had it coming.

“Less talking and more gaming, please,” Yangyang calls from the corner, “I wanna steal Sunwoo’s diamonds now. Turn the shit on.”

And although Sunwoo doesn’t really like the implication of his friend’s words, he doesn’t argue. Mainly because 15 minutes have already passed and the club is only supposed to go on for an hour– which leaves the 10 of them only 45 minutes left to mine and do something meaningful. The owner of the server also moved the spawn point the farthest away from his house– in hopes of them not finding it and putting TNT all over the premises. (If they manage to craft some in the limited time space, that is. He doubts it, but truth be told, he can never be too sure.)

“Okay, I sent the IP of the server into the groupchat, so just type it in and press the Play button on the left and it should take you instantly here,” Sunwoo exclaims as he clicks on his server and connects to it, walking around the spawn point with his character for a bit, waiting for the rest of his group to arrive.

Pressing the TAB key, he keeps checking the usernames of the people jumping in. Once mega_dino turns up, he lets out an amused chuckle– there’s nothing that tops the nicknames you made when you were 11. Sunwoo’s email address scares him to this day, but he is too lazy to make a new one, since all of his subscriptions and social media are tied to it– it does make sending official emails to his university coordinators that much embarrassing, though.

Some nicknames are recognisable– such as yejiiiji or haechanahceah, but some are less decipherable, leaving him guessing who could be the one joining the game. He doesn’t ask about them, though, thinking that figuring it out as he plays will be more fun– when one nickname he recognises all too well suddenly shows up on the list of players, making his heart jump in surprise.

What is his friend doing on the server at this time of the day? She doesn’t usually play in the early hours of the afternoon– leaving her sessions to evening or late night. That’s when she calls Sunwoo and asks him to help her with mining (or begging for his diamonds, which he sometimes rejects, but complies with on the days he is the most weak to her cuteness).

He considers pulling up his phone and texting her on Discord to notify the poor girl about the influx of new players on the server. She must be confused– maybe even scared, who knows– to see so many new people playing at the same time. The server Sunwoo created was a bit small, hosting only a few of his friends and a couple of people he met online, so a big amount of players would surely make it seem like someone hacked him, right?

“Is everyone in?” he asks instead, hearing everyone let out excited hums and nods.

He furrows his brows. The server says 10 people are currently connected to it, but if his calculations are correct, the number should be 11– everyone from his club and his online best friend, sunpoodle.

He does a double take on the list, shaking his head. He counts the people in his head over and over again, a little frustrated. Why is everyone saying they’re in? It’s clearly not adding up.

Looking up from his computer, he eyes the rest of his friends in the café. Everyone is playing soundly and happily, it seems, paying him no mind as they get accustomed with the new world and warm back up to the controls of the game they haven’t played in ages.

Everyone but one person. Everyone but you.

Instead, you’re left staring at him with stern eyes. The look you offer him is sharp, maybe a little hurt– and at the moment, he doesn’t know why. Confusion is the only feeling jumping around the walls of his brain, making an unpleasant crease appear in between his eyebrows. Gears slowly turning, he tries to figure it all out.

You’re not playing. You’re not paying attention to the game. It’s like you know it all– like you’re so familiar with it, as if playing it daily. As if you know the server he made. As if you have your house in it, decorated with a cute offering in front of the door, a portal to his own home residing in the front yard.

It happens quickly– the realisation. He finally makes the connection. It dawns on him why you look so surprised. Why you look so shocked, so disturbed.

Because if you’re the only unmoving one on the map right now and his online friend is not the one to play on Tuesday afternoons, there is only one explanation.

“Oh my fucking god,” leaves his lips, albeit a little involuntarily. His voice is hoarse and harsh when he says the words, a final nail in the coffin for you as you stand up, the sound of the wheels of the chair churning against the floor, making everyone’s eyes snap to you.

You don’t turn off the game before you storm out of the room, giving him a clear view of your back, the character with the adorable skin you’ve picked out staring back at him blankly in the game. For a second, he doesn’t follow you– letting himself process. Everyone turns to Aeri for answers, as she’s the closest with you, but they get nothing as the girl just shrugs, equally confused, before she runs out of the room to find her best friend.

Sunwoos' ears start ringing. He feels like throwing up.

This can’t be…

There’s nothing more in this world that Kim Sunwoo enjoys more than playing Minecraft. He enjoys mining with music playing in his headphones. He loves crafting and making his house look perfect– just like little him always wanted it when he watched all those videos on youtube growing up. He likes to prank his friend Juyeon by putting random dirt blocks all over his house, or stealing all of Younghoon’s sugar cane when he’s offline, too lazy to grow some himself. He likes to teleport to his friend’s house and leave little surprises at the door, only to hear her call him a few seconds later, her cheerful, yet soft voice repeating in his ears even after he turns off the game and goes to his bed, letting her stories lull him to sleep.

There’s nothing more in this world that Kim Sunwoo enjoys more than playing Minecraft with his online best friend– the two of them ganging up on the dragon or entering the Nether together to find some glowstone for her house, because she wants it to look aesthetically pleasing. There’s nothing more he enjoys than helping her with little tasks and fighting off creepers away from her property, making sure they don’t blow out all the hard work she’s been putting in.

There’s nothing more in the world that he enjoys more than talking with his online friend during the mundane hours of the day, her messages making him hide his giggles in the back rows of his lecture halls. Nothing he enjoys more than her laugh, her jokes, her voice, her online presence. It calms him and sets him on fire all at once, and he doesn’t think he’s ever cared for anyone this deeply.

How has he never noticed that the person he hates the most is also the same person that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with? How has he never noticed it was you all the time?

And really, there’s nothing in the world Kim Sunwoo enjoys more than playing Minecraft with you. This time around, though, no progress in the world is made and your voice is not talking his ear off in the background. He shuts off the computer and leaves the place, not giving anyone an ounce of explanation.

You don’t text him in the evening like you always do. There’s no night call to help him sleep better.

He doesn’t turn the LED lights on in his room either, contemplating his life in complete darkness.

Nobody’s seen or heard of Kim Sunwoo in just a little under a week. Actually, that is an over-exaggeration– he went to take his exams, and he also went grocery shopping when he went out of ramen and his signature comfort food: red tasty KitKat bars– but other than that, it’s like the boy has disappeared from the face of earth.

There is no Video Gaming club, since it’s officially break time now– for only 2 weeks, but still– and he is declining every single invitation to hang out coming from his friends. He’s simply not in the mood to go anywhere or do anything, and so he spends his days locked away in his room.

Nothing is able to cut off his stream of thought. He’s not listening to music, so the occasional sounds of his roommate moving somewhere in the shared apartment are the only background noise to his loud inner voice. The elevator music usually playing in his head is replaced by a screaming match, and although he wishes it would stop, he can’t really control it– until the sound of his door opening makes him jolt away from the nightmare he’s living in.

Usually, he just tells Eric to fuck off and leave his room– since he is not in the headspace right now to spare anyone kindness, it seems– but when the disgusted face of Ji Changmin enters the place, Sunwoo knows there is no escaping this interrogation.

“Man, it stinks in here,” the boy grunts, moving through the obstacle course Sunwoo’s room has turned into in the few days he hasn’t bothered to put away his dirty laundry.

“Go away,” Sunwoo says. It’s a weak attempt– he already knows he lost this battle.

“Yeah, no,” Changmin shakes his head before moving to the window, opening it. “Eric orders a wellness check on you, so I’m not leaving until I figure out what’s wrong. I was told you left the club early the last time?”

Sunwoo doesn’t offer him a response. All Changmin can do is guess in this situation, and trust me, although they’re best friends, sadly, they still haven’t developed telepathy– and so the conversation is a little tougher than the squirrel-like boy would prefer.

“Did something happen?”

Sunwoo recognises it’s already dark outside, the sound of cicadas landing into his ears through the open window. He doesn’t know how long he’s been glued to his mattress, but it makes him feel a little foolish. Not more than his previous actions, though– that surely takes the crown.

“I have a crush on Y/N,” Sunwoo speaks into the existence, startling the boy.

It’s weird for the boy to call you by your name in regards to his feelings. While he was so sure of his growing adoration for you when he spoke to you online, unaware of your real identity, it’s much harder to admit it to himself when the person he spent countless nights dreaming about finally turns into reality, and it’s not the form he expected. It’s confusing. It’s overwhelming– it leaves him thinking. Why did it have to be you?

“What?” Changmin asks, genuine shock and surprise coating his tone. “I thought you hated Y/N.”

The words sting like a slap to his face. He hated you. How could he ever be so reckless with his words to you? How could he be so mean? You must hate him now.

“Didn’t you have a crush on that online girl? What– I’m confused, man…” Changmin trails off, finally sitting at Sunwoo’s bed, the weight of his body making the mattress shift under the lazy man’s figure.

“She’s the same person,” Sunwoo explains, the weight of his words making heaviness fall over the whole room, coating it with deep silence.

Changmin must think he’s foolish. He must think he is being crazy– hell, he must judge him for liking someone who once broke his heart, even though he was unaware it was the same person that made him feel so loved just by talking to him online.

He cares about what you think more, though. Do you never wanna see him again? Do you hate him? He would hate himself, if he was you.

Does he hate you? Does he want to see you again? Is your friendship over?

Did he lose you?

He hasn’t spoken to you in what feels like forever. Sunwoo’s throat closes on itself, making a real, visceral emotion run through his whole body and hit right in his chest, close to his heart. The corners of his eyes burn and he feels like running out of the room straight onto an ongoing traffic– he is unsettled. He feels terrible.

“Dude, are you crying?” Changmin asks with a shiteating grin on his face, pointing towards the younger one’s face.

“No!” Sunwoo bluntly replies, voice hoarse and scratchy, harshly wiping off the tear that managed to roll down his cheek– almost slapping himself in the process.

Changmin laughs. He laughs. Like it’s funny. Like it’s unserious and nothing is going on, like there is nothing to be worried about, and Kim Sunwoo is just being his overdramatic self, as always. Changmin laughs as if liking someone who once broke your friend’s heart is silly and not a big deal. As if not recognising someone you like online in real life is a normal experience, and not completely embarrassing– as if being mean to the same person you claim to adore is fine, and nothing to hate yourself over.

Sunwoo is conflicted. Talk about cognitive dissonance.

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny,” Sunwoo pouts, the familiar wrinkle appearing in the middle of his eyebrows again, making his friend roll his eyes at the boy’s distress.

Changmin sighs. “It kinda is, if you think about it,” he shrugs, “you claim to hate Y/N, but turns out you’ve been in love with her all along…”

“You’re really not helping.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Changmin snickers. “I think this makes it easier for you. I know you were nervous about meeting her in real life, so this kind of takes off the pressure, since you already know each other.”

Sunwoo looks at his friend like he’s crazy. Does he not get the full weight of the situation? Does he not realise how serious this all is?

“What are you even talking about? Do you not hate me?” Sunwoo asks.

“Me?” Changmin asks, his head turning to the side like a confused puppy’s. “I don’t think I’m the person you need to worry about– although I’m sure you worry plenty– why would I hate you for liking Y/N?”

“Because she is your ex-girlfriend?” Sunwoo mumbles, twisting in his bed to have a better look at his friend.

He is met with a few seconds of silence. He is starting to think his whole life is a joke and he is in some sort of a weird knock-off of the Truman show. How can you and Changmin both have the same reaction to his undying loyalty? He is being taken for granted, that’s for sure.

“You utter buffoon, that was ages ago! I honestly forget we even dated sometimes, it was so short-lived,” Changmin laughs before he rests his back against the wall of Sunwoo’s room, getting more comfortable in his new position. He knows the conversation isn’t over yet– there is more on the boy’s mind than the past relationship.

“Oh,” Sunwoo hums.

“Yeah, oh,” Changmin laughs. “I honestly thought there was more to your hate towards Y/N, but I never really asked because I thought it was some gamer stuff or something that I couldn’t give two shits about. If I had known it was all because of my relationship from high school, I would’ve set the record straight a long time ago.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve.”

Sunwoo feels defeated. Like a deflated balloon. The weight on his shoulders stays the same despite the newfound information– because truth be told, this was never the problem in the first place.

And he is aware of that. Changmin is as well– he knows his best friend a little too much.

“But that’s not all there is to it, is it?” Changmin hums, poking the boy’s side with his long finger, burying it into his hoodie-covered flesh.

Sunwoo’s averted gaze and the chewing on the inside of his cheek is enough of an answer. “What is it?”

“It’s just… I don’t know how to feel about Y/N anymore,” Sunwoo confesses, snickering to himself. “Like, online, she was this perfect angel, like– don’t laugh at me now, you know I’m fucking sensitive– she was just… she was everything, you know?”

Changmin hums. “And in real life?”

“In real life, we were never really close and I hated her. How can I like someone I so strongly dislike in real life? It’s stupid…”

“You only hated what she did to me when we were teenagers, Sunwoo. You made yourself loathe something that wasn’t even there,” Changmin says, smiling sympathetically at the boy. “Do you think she is suddenly a different person to the one you got to know online just because she made a few mistakes when we were young?”

“I dunno…”

“I think you do know, you’re just scared to admit it to yourself, because you know you were a dick to her,” his best friend bluntly announces, watching Sunwoo wince at the words. Truth hurts– but it’s what he needs to hear. Because Changmin’s right, and Sunwoo is too tired of keeping all of these doubts hidden.

“Changmin, I can’t like her–”

“Why?” the boy cuts him off. “Because you said so? You were so big on saying how much you loved her for who she is, without knowing her in real life and knowing what she looked like. And sure, I made fun of you for it countless times before– but don’t you think you know her well enough by now? And don’t try to tell me you don’t know her just because you met online, because you know you’d be a fucking hypocrite.”

“But it’s Y/N.”

“Does that make any difference?”

Sunwoo moves from the inside of his cheek to bite at the dry skin of his lower lip. After tugging at the chapped mess, he feels iron on his tongue from tearing off a piece of his skin, eyes still pressed sternly into the ceiling.

Does it make any difference? Does Sunwoo like you less now that he knows who you are? It was never about the looks for him– and god knows he barely even knew you in real life. Saying he wasn’t interested anymore would make him a hypocrite.

Every time he thinks of the night talks you two shared and the secrets you’d tell him, trusting him with anything and everything, his heart still stummers in his chest and his stomach does that weird thing everyone in the romantic movies his roommate Eric watches talks about– but now, the girl has a face and a voice, and Sunwoo can’t say he hates it. He can’t say he hates you.

“I guess it doesn’t,” Sunwoo whispers, saying the obvious.

He still wants you. Just the way you are. Sure, he was shocked– anyone would be– but the feelings he has for you are still the same; it’s just the hate that slowly left his body, disappearing like the puddles of rain on the pavement on a sunny day.

He can’t hate someone so important to him. How foolish of him to once think you were the bane of his existence.

“So why don’t you two just talk it out?” Changmin asks, pointing out the obvious.

Sunwoo plays with the skin around his cuticles for a while, nervously picking at the loose skin and making himself bleed once again, the nerves getting the worst out of him. “I think I’m a little scared.”

“So I was right. You’re scared she will push you away because you were a dick to her all those times before,” Changmin once again states the obvious.

“Basically,” Sunwoo says, his insecurities slowly slipping through his mouth and out to the wild, hanging in the air. “As much as my feelings didn’t change, I think hers might have. And that’s… that’s scary.”

In Sunwoo’s eyes, what you and he had together was special. He never wanted to lose you to something like this– over spite, a foolish lack of judgement. The thought of never talking to you again is making his insides crash on themselves, guilt slowly, but surely eating him alive. The best thing that’s ever happened to him might be royally fucked over, and there is no one else he can blame but himself.

“Well, you don’t know that. And although I know you might be too scared to find out, you two both need to have a talk. Don’t you think you owe each other that much?”

Changmin’s right. He almost always is– he doesn’t know why Sunwoo ever thought the older one needed protecting. Like a pouty child, Kim Sunwoo is comforted by his best friend’s words, maybe even a little scolded and enlightened by the dimpled boy. The appreciation in his heart almost outgrows the worry, but there is still a you-shaped hole in his chest that he feels the need to fill– only if you allow him to.

He didn’t expect for it to end up being you, but he doesn’t hate the idea.

He’s not opposed to it. He welcomes it, because

It’s still the same you. In whatever form, in whatever shape– he knows your soul, and he fears nothing will ever take away and move the feelings he treasures for you to another place, to some other.

They’re reserved for you only. (Also, he always thought your cunning smile was nice to look at. He just tried to suppress the idea of it deep, deep within his mind.)

“We were supposed to meet tomorrow,” Sunwoo hums, “I’ll see if she… still wants to come.”

Changmin smiles. “I knew you were smarter than this.”

The backhanded compliment would rile him up on most occasions– this time, though, he knows it’s deserved.

One would say Kim Sunwoo didn’t think much before going up to the new café that opened downtown the week after exams, just like you two scheduled. Why?

First of all, he didn’t really check in with you to see if the offer is still up and if you want to meet him after all of this. Second of all, he turned up almost 35 minutes too early, since he was so nervous pacing around his flat that he physically couldn’t stay in the closed space anymore, and third of all, he’s fairly certain he put two different socks on when he was dressing himself, and after further inspection by the front door of the coffee place, pulling his jeans up to take a look, he finds out his suspicions were correct.

The thing is, though, against popular belief, Kim Sunwoo thought almost a little too much before going to the scheduled hangout. He thought about it the whole night before– and the whole previous week, if he’s being honest. He thought about it so much it consumed his every waking thought, leaving him all over the place, distracted and distressed. On most occasions, Eric had to ask a question five times before he was heard by his dear roommate, and if he wanted a real answer out of him, he had to gentle parent him through the conversation.

Sunwoo thought about it so much up to the point that you were all that was in his head. You and your last conversations on Discord which he spent the whole week rereading, you and your house in Minecraft that was left untouched since the last time you two played together (he checked). You and your laugh and the gentle, soft voice you only used with him on your calls– the voice that lulled him to sleep and make him feel butterflies in his stomach, unrecognisable to the hardened tone you used with him whenever you met up in real life when the conflicts he used to stir got the best out of you.

You and your cunning smile. You and your piercing, playful gaze. You and your hair that always kept falling into your face when you were crouched over the keyboard. It’s almost laughable how much he managed to pay attention to you in real life before knowing you were the same person he spent months adoring over the internet– the universe really works in strange ways sometimes.

So really, Kim Sunwoo has thought a lot about you and you two meeting before actually leaving the house; which could also very well be the reason why he didn’t text you to see if you still want to see him in the first place– in fear of being declined, in fear of being rejected by the only person he so deeply craves the validation from.

If you don’t show up, he will just go home and pretend none of this ever happened.

(Or at least he hopes he can.)

The more time he spends standing in front of the coffee shop, though, the more his hope of ever seeing you again gets smaller and smaller. Minutes are slowly passing him by like last summer, and he swears he’s never felt the passing of time more than right in this moment. He feels like he is gaining 5 years every 5 minutes that he’s standing in the middle of the pavement– the clock striking well past 20 minutes of when you were supposed to meet.

He will give it 10 more minutes, he thinks. 20, at most. Maybe he can wait an hour. Maybe you got stuck in the traffic. Maybe you got confused with the time…

Or maybe you’re just not coming, and he has to accept that.

Kicking the rocks under his feet while also trying to get out of the way of people walking past, he puts his hands deep into his pockets. He would rather die than to embarrass himself in front of you by texting you, and so he figures that if he just waits a few more minutes, God will surely give him a sign of when to stop holding back his tears and go back home…

“You look like a kicked puppy,” a voice– teasing, yet also a bit cautious– falls into his ears, making him perk up and look behind his shoulder. God must really love him today, he thinks.

No words escape his mouth for the time being. His brain goes short circuit a little at the sight of you– and in that moment he fully realises that he didn’t actually expect you to come, and that makes him feel even worse about himself. Relief washes over him like a wave of tsunami, the surprised look adorning Sunwoo’s face disappearing in seconds as he tries to manage his racing heartbeat.

“You came,” slips out from between his lips, making the boy immensely embarrassed with his choice of words.

“I did,” you nod, pressing your lips tightly against each other, an awkward half-smile doing nothing to calm down Sunwoo’s nerves. “I figured you either come and we figure this out, or you don’t and I get something to treat myself to chase down the disappointment.”

You’d be disappointed if he didn’t come. Just the sentiment makes Sunwoo’s heart do backflips in his ribcage– how could he ever think he hated you?

“Kind of same, actually,” he replies, nodding.

An awkward silence falls over you two like a weighted blanket, making Sunwoo’s stomach churn in discomfort. This is not how he imagined your first meeting to be– but then again, it’s not like he is meeting his online best friend (if he can even call you that anymore) for the first time. He tries to find the memory of your first meeting somewhere in the depths of his mind, but much to his dismay, he is left unsuccessful. He never really deemed it that important before– curse him and his reckless teenage mind.

“Uhm,” you hum, scratching the back of your neck, “I was… the bus was late, by the way. I didn’t purposefully let you wait to like, get back at you or something,” you suddenly explain, your lips stretching into a sympathetic smile.

The explanation doesn’t matter to him anymore. He doesn’t care if you came 20 minutes late and if you took the bus or if you built a portal in the back rooms of the very café you’re supposed to enter in a few minutes– all that matters is that you came and that you’re here, right in front of Sunwoo’s eyes, and you’re not pulling out a machete or an axe on him as a revenge for all the times he acted wrongly towards you in the past.

“Oh, no worries,” he hums almost immediately, “you’re here now, and that’s all that matters,” he nods.

After another shared, prolonged look between the two of you– one in which he scans you up and down, as if actually seeing you for the first time (and noticing the switch in your usual attire: you exchanged your cargo pants for a skirt, something more fancy, yet telling), a look in which he gets all red in his cheeks, wondering if you noticed the way he did his hair differently today, just to appeal to you– he clears his throat and takes a step towards the café, opening the door for you like the gentleman he tries to be today. “Let’s go in, then!”

You follow his lead, entering the small, yet cozy place. The cold weather outside makes a good contrast with the heating of the café, and when Sunwoo takes a look at the board above the counter, he finds a seasonal menu welcoming him in with a big bear hug. Hot chocolate is just what he needs after all of this, and he won’t deny himself the pleasure of one now.

“Hot choccy?” you ask, smiling softly at the silent figure standing next to you. Sunwoo is caught off-guard with your suggestion and the gentle curve of your lips just the same, warmth spreading to the inside of his heart at the realisation that you know him so well. It’s her. It’s really her, he gasps in disbelief.

“Want one as well?” he asks after nodding, watching you shrug. He takes that as a yes, and since he thinks he did a lot of damage over the course of your friendship, he takes the lead and pays for your drink to try and make up for it– which you don’t fight him over, and he doesn’t find it in him to care. Actually, he thinks he kind of appreciates it.

After taking a seat in one of the booths in the corner– the cream sofa hugs him in just well, and Sunwoo thinks he might just give this place a 5 star review on Yelp, depending on the way this date- I mean… friendly gathering goes– he is met with another excruciating, suffocating silence. He never really had much trouble talking to you before– surely not online, but also not whenever you were around in real life settings as well, since he always found a way to tease you and make fun of you, giving you most of his undivided attention– but this time around, he thinks keeping up a conversation with you might just be the hardest thing he’s ever had to experience.

You make him nervous. You make him doubtful. If he wondered about how you’d perceive him after meeting him before knowing you two were acquainted already, he is wondering even more now– do you hate him? Do you wish he wasn’t the one sitting opposite of you right now? Do you want to leave and never talk to him again?

Is he good enough? Does he live up to the expectations– if you even had any?

All previous hatred towards you disappears as fast as a click of your finger, and Kim Sunwoo is left breathless at the fact that you’re right there, in front of him– his online best friend. He thinks he might have still liked you even if you turned out to be a mass murderer. He thinks he might have still liked you even if you were a 50 year old male in a disguise. He thinks the bond you two have built over the internet is much stronger than any mean comments he threw your way before– and the only thing left is to hope you feel the same.

Opening his mouth to speak, he thinks it’s time to have that conversation.

“Listen, I–”

“Were you disappointed that it was me?” you cut him off suddenly, fast as lightning– as if to hurry to get the question out before you chicken out of it.

Sunwoo is left staring at you open-mouthed, shocked. There was not a single minute of his existence where he’d feel disappointed with your identity. The thought never even crossed his brain once, and suddenly, he feels stupid.

He left you hanging for a whole week– all because he thought you’d hate him. He left you wondering in silence, doubting yourself and thinking you’re not who he would’ve liked– all because of his own insecurities. Why has he not thought of your side of things as well?

“No,” he simply states, watching your face morph into a more relaxed one, eyes softening. “Not at all, no,” he shakes his head.

“I just– it’s…”

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way,” Sunwoo utters out. You press your lips together, listening. “Was I surprised? Mhm. Shocked? Yeah, of course I was… but no, I was never disappointed that it turned out to be you. Not for a single moment.”

“I thought you hated me,” you note, chuckling. The words sting on Sunwoo’s skin, but he figures he’s not the one to be hurt right now– and so he sucks it up and hums.

“I was being petty,” he agrees. “And childish. Nothing to be so passionate about as I was,” he admits, forcefully laughing at his own actions. “Nothing to throw away everything we… nothing to throw away the friendship that means so much to me.”

The sincerity of his own words scares him. There is a quiet desperation in him that wants to prove to you that he’s not as bad as he presented himself to be. There is a need in him to fix everything he ruined, to show you that he’s the same Sunwoo you know from the internet, and that all of this is worth it.

“And I’m sorry, just… just by the way.”

Sunwoo never thought he’d be left apologizing to you– but here he is. Maybe this whole thing taught him something– maybe you taught him something.

“Ah,” you shrug. “It’s okay. I mean, it was kind of fun watching you be so pressed about nothing, but I’m glad it’s resolved now,” you laugh.

You laugh, and the atmosphere immediately clears. Sunwoo feels like he can breathe lighter, like the cold isn’t so overbearing outside, like he hadn’t just spent the last week locked in his room, contemplating the point of living at all. He didn’t think it would be this easy…

Something inside of him truly believed he lost you for good.

“I mean, you were the one that ran out of the internet café without an explanation–”

“You cursed me out!” you argue, kicking his shin lightly under the table.

The boy fakes offense, pointing his finger at you. “That wasn’t directed at you! Just the situation in general.”

“That includes me,” you add.

“Sure, but still– I was just surprised. I really didn’t expect my online best friend to be sitting in the same room as me every week, that’s for sure,” he says, watching as your eyes light up at the title, a cute smile overtaking your features.

“I also didn’t expect you to ghost me for a full week after,” you add, shrugging. “You’re usually so desperate for attention,” you hum, making the boy’s cheeks heat up like a furnace, eyes averting your gaze at all costs. Now, this surely wasn’t on the list of things he wanted to discuss with you today.

Clearing his throat, he makes eye contact with his mug instead, desperately trying to shift the topic of the conversation. “Drink it, it’s getting cold…”

“Sure… Whatever you say, Steve,” you tease. When he looks up at you from under his eyelashes, there’s the same cunning smile on your face that he watched all those times when you won against him at League of Legends– the same smile that used to always drive him crazy, but he now recognises that he translated the implications of his insanity all wrong (because he thinks that maybe somewhere deep inside of his romantic, rotten soul, he might have known all along)– and he wonders if this was the smile you always wore when you made fun of him for falling asleep on the call with you again, the boy using your soft, sleepy voice as a lullaby.

Sunwoo almost chokes on his drink, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Speaking of,” he starts, “the kids miss you. Go and feed them, miss,” he says, watching you roll your eyes at him. The dogs you co-parent with him in Minecraft have been sitting near your front door ever since you last logged out, and even though coming to your house felt like an emotional torture in the time you were gone, Sunwoo always managed to feed them like he would with a real animal.

Call him childish, for all he cares.

“Okay, damn,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. “You only say that because you want me to finally move our beds together, don’t you?” you tease him, referencing the little offering he made for you months ago– the one that’s still secure outside of your house despite many of its renovations.

Sunwoo almost chokes on his drink again. You grin at him– a sight that makes his insides feel like they were threaded with gold. He swears hot chocolate has never felt so sweet before.

If he wasn’t sure of it before, he’s fairly certain now– you can fall for someone over the internet. And yes, the crush translates to its full form after meeting them in person.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it…” he mumbles, not really quick enough to come up with a good comeback now that he’s face to face with you, making you giggle cutely at his sudden shyness. This is not how you know Kim Sunwoo– the sheepish composure is so far of the boy you met online, but also the one that ridiculed you during a casual game of CS:GO weeks ago.

“I’ll decide if it’s worth it after you show me the lights you’ve been talking my ear off about,” you say– and he thinks he won. Because this is an invitation to his room– an invitation for further hangouts. If you keep flirting with him like this, Sunwoo thinks he might just combust.

There is only one problem, though.

“About the lights…”

BONUS // A YEAR LATER

If you would’ve told Kim Sunwoo that he will end up in a long distance relationship only a bit more than a year ago, he would’ve believed you. See, he’s a stranger to denial– he is quite good at accepting his own feelings for what they were, inwardly, at least– and so he was fairly certain he was in love with his online best friend even before he had a chance to meet her. Somewhere along the line, given the fact that his feelings would be reciprocated, he imagined going further with the establishment, no matter how far or close in distance you were from each other.

Turns out, life is funny in many ways and his online best friend, the proclaimed love of his life, lived just around the corner with her roommate Aeri. She still doesn’t like him that much, but Sunwoo puts effort into visiting his girlfriend at her place often, in hopes that her best friend finally warms up to him a little– he thinks it’s almost like approaching a stray cat. The Sylvanian families shrine the two girls hold in their living room is also fascinating to him– he didn’t think someone with a stern look like Aeri’s could stare at something so adorable and small so lovingly.

“Sunwoo, once again, we are not in a long distance relationship,” you say over the speakers of his sister’s laptop that he borrowed just so he could call with you, making him mourn into the poor-quality microphone.

“We are! You’re so far away right now, how can you justify it not being a long distance relationship?”

“We literally saw each other a week ago,” you deadpan, “and we will see each other again after we come back to uni, you moron.”

See, Sunwoo’s definition of a long distance relationship is a bit warped. As long as you’re not in the same town as him, he considers you too far away– and in any other circumstance, you would find it cute (bless his heart), but when you’re trying to enjoy your break with your family that you haven’t seen in a while, it’s becoming just the tiniest bit overbearing.

“That’s too long.”

“You’re being a baby,” you grunt, making your boyfriend pout at the other side of the call, seen by his web camera. You were against turning your own on, but were forced to nonetheless– Sunwoo’s ‘I need to see your face or else I’ll die’ was too convincing not to. You know he won’t, but at the same time, the poor boy could turn a little manic at times– you had to make sure he will survive until your next meeting.

“God, a man can’t even miss his long distance girlfriend in peace–”

“I am not your long distance girlfriend. We’re literally only like 4 hours away from each other right now, that’s not even–”

“If you think about it,” Sunwoo cuts you off, making you sigh. “It’s like we’re back to square one. Y’know, before we started dating.”

“Not really…?” you try to argue with him, planning to point out the fact that back then, you used to call on Discord and not Whatsapp, with no camera on and using fake names, but the boy cuts you off fast, knowing that you’re right and he just can’t let you have the point.

“I miss your kisses, that’s all.”

Still hung up on the previous comment, you sigh. “We weren’t even kissing back then, Sunwoo.”

The boy stares at you for a second, blinking, before he breaks out into a huge grin. “Well, maybe not you. Me, however, I was kissing the screen everytime your character showed up–”

“I’m going to end the call,” you warn him. Why are you even dating him? He has a bitchless loser energy– maybe you should let him live up to it.

“No no no– okay, I’ll be normal.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you sigh.

If you would’ve told Kim Sunwoo that he will end up in a long distance relationship only a bit more than a year ago, he would’ve believed you. After seeing the little heart shaped altar in front of your house in Minecraft every time he plays– your beds now stuck together, making him sense that he finally made it– he truly wouldn’t find this accusation hard to believe.

Truth be told, though, he’s much happier with having a normal relationship with you.

One where he gets to hold you, one where he gets to kiss you. One where you finally come over and he gets to impress you with the LED strip he finally got off a proper electronic place instead of a cheap online store, investing money into the device he gets to use behind the locked doors of his room for atmospheric purposes whenever you two–

Anyways.

Maybe Changmin was right and he was always being just too overly-dramatic. He was also right when he accused Sunwoo of having a huge crush on you online, after all.

Still, Sunwoo wouldn’t change it for anything. Despite the history you share, he actually thinks you’re pretty fucking cute.

And real. And his.

And thankfully, not a thousand miles away. (Although it may feel like it right now.)

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s-che · 2 months ago

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a game where we hurt each other

Last month, I played perhaps the most intense TTRPG session of my life as part of the Dream Library’s discussion of Bluebeard’s Bride, a game of “feminist horror” (more on this later) published by Magpie in a gorgeous print edition. Over the course of the month of October my guest lecturer/collaborator @marvelousmsmolly I collectively hosted three sessions of what was by far the most challenging game the Dream Library has ever discussed.

We came to Bluebeard as the second part of our fall semester covering games of intimacy and monstrosity — a unit which began in September with Avery Alder’s Monsterhearts 2 and is continuing this month with Vampire: The Masquerade (If you want to get in on the VTM discussion and future semesters, please, come join). Both Molly and I suspected that Bluebeard was going to be both a quieter month and a riskier text — but opted to play through it anyway, albeit with some tools in place to make sure everyone knew what they were getting into with a book that doesn’t pull many punches. And with all that, the first two sessions went... fine? We had some lumpy pacing, some conflicting styles of play, some questions about how a game that really seems to encourage player bleed can possibly be played online, but for the most part things were fine. Not great, not bad — not worth the anxiety we’d had about them.

And “fine,” of course, doesn’t make for interesting conversations, so Molly and I took a step back. We talked about what was going wrong: a sense that neither of us quite felt comfortable hitting hard enough, even though we asked players ahead of time and at the start of sessions to tell us what was off the table. A frustration that player choice had trended towards the Bride as a detective/hero and not someone embodied in a world of horror. A confusion — once again — over what it means to “shiver with terror” in a discord call with some friends online. Out of that conversation came a new idea: rather than two more one-shots, Molly took some time to charge up a spirit bomb and put together some more formal prep, then recruited a group she felt could get together for a more curated experience. She wrote up her own excellent thoughts on what went down — along with a lot of session details — but you’ll have to join the Dream Library for that.

The result of all that curation and preparation was that on October 23rd a group of four trans women — Molly, @jdragsky, our friend Mars, and I — sat down to play Bluebeard’s Bride knowing exactly what we were in for. We would be playing a transfem Bride, Bluebeard would be cis, and we would be hitting transfem-specific horror as hard as we possibly could.

I’m going to quote from Molly’s reflection, where she wrote:

“Another really great aspect of running this game for this table is there was such a clear feeling that we all understood, wordlessly, what was going on... There are some moments in Allison Rumfitt’s gothic horror novel ‘Tell Me I’m Worthless’ where it felt like the author, a trans woman, was dropping phrases knowing exactly how her transfem audience would react... This had a twofold effect of both giving the players a chilling moment but also, a very brief but appropriate separation between fiction and player where could all grimace and be together in that discomfort before pushing on. People knew what I was doing. The problem with the original game is it doesn’t really want to discuss the politics of what “feminine horror” means. Because of this you’re really lacking some focus. I think a table of cis women could actually play bluebeard’s bride in the way we did last night and have it hit hard for them if they approached it correctly, I don’t think our experience was uniquely elevated by our trans reading, however that was one of several tools we used for that elevation.”

Setting aside the strengths and weaknesses of the original text, that sense of shared experience was key to our game and key to allowing us to hit — and get hit — really hard and trust that our coplayers were there with us. Compared to our earlier efforts (prioritizing safety by taking things off the table via lines/veils) tightening the topical scope from an ambiguous “feminist horror” to a specific transfeminist horror in the context of a chaser bf, in the context of an economic disparity, in the context of the medical pressures of transition in the contemporary U.K. allowed Molly, our lovely host, to hurt us knowing that we were all in it together and choosing to play this game. It transformed the horror from an obstacle in an adventure game into a thing we were seeking out: a pleasure/pain we asked to feel.

In a games discourse that is — understandably — interested in protections which might be implemented anywhere, including at cons and home tables with much less of an art-and-politics interest, safety tools are often thought about as a negative thing, a preemptive cutting away of all the things which might end up hurting us. I think that’s part of why people can have a hard time filling out a lines/veils list in advance of a session. What are all the things in the world I’m sensitive to? What are all the contexts in which I’m sensitive to them? Good sensitive or bad sensitive? Sensitive enough to cause a scene? Sensitive enough to make it off the table?

In place of that — and in a table with a really remarkable amount of trust — this final Bluebeard session leaned in, hard, to the things that hurt us. That was the game. Molly wrote a lot about kink in her reflection, and I think she was right to do that. The point of the game was to hurt each other and to feel, and it was a better game for keeping that in mind. It was an actual horror game, and not just a game with horror aesthetics. I agree with Molly that there was nothing essential about having an all-transfem table — I think what we did could be done by anyone, even with the base Bluebeard’s Bride. What was essential was having a table where we all trusted each other enough to play a hurting game and to know that we were there on purpose. It elevated Bluebeard’s Bride into a really fascinating, messy experience — one I can’t wait to play again.

#ttrpg #ttrpgs #rpgs #bluebeard's bride #magpie games #the dream library #play report #transfem #horror

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meyhew · 3 months ago

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“WHAT WE MOURN FOR THE DEAD IS THE LOSS OF THEIR HOPES.”

I never thought I’d make this post. Any time I imagined a One Direction member dying, I pictured myself weathered and grey. This was an eventuality that wasn’t supposed to be actualized until the boys and I had lived full lives. To have to come to terms with Liam’s death—his perpetual absence moving forward—in my mid twenties feels absurd. I wrote a long thing the day after I found out, so I’ve already gotten some thoughts out. I’m going to try and keep this short. I likely won’t succeed.

Liam was kind. If he’s remembered for anything, I hope it’s that. I know he helped out with food banks in London during lockdown because there were photos of him packing boxes, but I didn’t know until now how much money he gave them. £80,000 without any publicity. And it wasn’t a one-time donation. He kept working with various orgs to help food insecure people. In the week leading up to that unfortunate Wednesday, he gave away thousands to fundraisers—primarily set up to help people with severe illnesses. He’d been part of Soccer Aid for years. He was involved with anti-bullying campaigns. He worked with Rays of Sunshine to make hundreds of sick children happy. Over the years, he also donated to nonprofits that help children in Gaza and other places. The T-shirt he designed for Choose Love has garnered nearly £200,000; Choose Love has been working with the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund and Medical Aid for Palestinians to provide desperately needed aid in Gaza. Liam understood the value of his wealth, and what his social responsibility was. He did his part to make this world better.

All that without taking into account everything Liam did for us. The youtube videos he started during quarantine because it was a way to distract people, give them something to look forward to. His comedic timing was something special. The discord server where he talked to fans and highlighted their creative endeavors. His livestreams, the endless culture-defining tweets he made. I still see people laughing about his tweets. We all remember Mrs. Horan, yes? I mean, go all the way back to TwitCams. Just google the phrase and one of the first videos you get will be Liam’s. From day one, he took it upon himself to make sure the fans were happy. That we felt seen, heard. And he kept One Direction alive for us, on occasion at a great personal cost. He performed deep cuts we’d never seen sung live, he was always so enthusiastic about everyone else’s projects, he never shied away from talking about the band—because it made us happy. He knew what the band meant to us, the blend of hope and nostalgia many of us clung to, and he held on with us. For us. The masses ridiculed him for his clinginess, and he didn’t let go—for us. I’m sure he knew there are those of us for whom the name One Direction still means everything. And how right he was. Look at the global charts for the past two weeks. We’ve made history again. Because of Liam. He had been the glue holding a lot of the fandom together, whether people realized it or not. He brought us all together again in the most heartbreaking of ways.

One Direction came into my life at a time when I was becoming lonelier by the day. I had moved to a new country two years prior, and I didn’t yet have many friends because I knew only enough English to get by at school. Outside of school, I had no friends. They were all back home in the place I’d left. All I had was my two siblings—and when you’re 13 years old, your 14 yr old sister is hardly the person you want to spend all your time with. I didn’t have space for me, to do and to be something that was just mine.

Then I found 1d through a girl at school and they became that something for me. I bettered my English by watching them talk. I found this community because of them, and I have learned so much from being a part of it. So many wonderful people have touched my life because of them over the years, some I’ve fallen out of touch with and some I hung out with just this month. They—and, by extension, Liam—have made me wealthy in friendship.

Claudia, Ingrid, Mery; Thank you for putting up with my insanely specific demands and making headers for me. Ingrid, you’ve been so patient about teaching me how to gif. Mery, I still have your rec list for learning Spanish saved in my notes app. The TPWK print you gifted me hangs on my wall. Cloudy, do you remember that lineart you made of me? I still have it. You’ve all been so kind to me.

Rafa; You have no idea how much you’ve helped build my confidence as a writer. Lyab is a thing of the past now, but those hours you spent fleshing out the details of that fic are priceless to me. I’d never written anything so ambitious before. And, frankly, I don’t think I would’ve attempted a novel if I hadn’t written a 100k fic—which I couldn’t have done without your encouragement. I think this is my first time telling you I finished the first draft of my novel in September. Thank you <3

Yas; Beloved you are so dear to me. You have shown me such kindness over the years, at times I wondered what I had done to deserve it. Not many people check in with me the way you do. I value your presence in my life beyond words. You have so much love and affection to give, and I’m glad I get to receive so much of it.

If I wrote a personal note to everyone who’s in my life because of Liam we’d be here for hours and hours. Jess, Bella, Alex, Jack, Hayley, Hope, Soni, Kayla, Sara, Arsh, Tina, Ola, Cristal, Kylee, Hana, Ali, Antonise, Clare, Abby, Nina, fnh, mert, people I don’t follow anymore, everyone who’s come into my life because of liam—I love you. Literally every single person I follow should be named here because I wouldn’t even be on this website if it weren’t for 1d. You’re all so special to me.

I still can’t believe Liam is gone. I was at the grocery store and it hit me that it’s real, and I thought, no, there’s no way. It feels so fucking weird having this invisible hole in my life that’s never going to go away. But I’ll always be grateful for everything Liam brought into my life. I know I’ll grow old with a whole bunch of you in my life—I’ve already spent a decade with some of you in my life—and I wish Liam got to grow old and weathered with us all.

This is such an inadequate goodbye. I think I’ll keep coming up with things I wish I could tell Liam, or things I want to say to you all. There’s so much history here, so much to reminisce about. He took a piece of my adolescence with him. I’ll miss him forever. Too many of my memories are intertwined with him and I’ll miss him forever.

Sleep easy, Liam. I hope, in time, you’re remembered for your limitless capacity for love and your desire to do better, be better. You deserved more. 🤍

—————

tagging 1d people here because i know many blogs aren’t active on a regular basis. apologies if i missed someone (i’m sure i did). hugs for everyone

@1dclowns @hrrytomlinson @sandiazucar @fookinfreezin @hoeranghae @wlwmermald @tomlinsun @epubgf @heyangel @fireproofs @90sgrungelouis @lirry @iconichalo @itsnotreal @aquickstart @roguecurls @harryscuddles @hoteyelinerguy @babyy-honey @goldencereza @kindathoughtprovoking @kindofsharethat @fuchsiasea @queerbloodyangel @tofiveohfive @aboutmetamorphosis @wastelandbabyblue @delicatepointofview @twentybiqueen @girlcrushau @chaoticsue @chimnation @akasakasads @icouldbeluckyagain @alloutshirt @half-lightl @halohamilton @willowfey @meltedwings @softandslow @loustyles @onedirectiom @pop-punklouis @pridesobright @finexbright @femstyles @baawree @iamnathanscott @avocadolouie @userautumn @niallerer @itsnothesameasitwas @usignedupforthis @svpportive @svncourt

#liam payne #remembering liam payne #this was supposed to post tomorrow but oh well. might as well #seedpost

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heyimkana · 3 months ago

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Untitled

Pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu x Female Reader

Word Count: 5K (I feel like I should apologize but if you’ve seen my other works, this is considered super short I’m being fr rn)

Summary: Yuuta is your new neighbor, and everyone loves him because of his sweet and kind personality. He has a crush on you, but you’re a married woman, so you can’t reciprocate his feelings the same way. But when your husband starts cheating on you, you can’t help but turn to him for comfort.

Content Warnings: alcohol, swearing, adultery/cheating, age gap (Yuuta is in his early twenties, reader is almost in her thirties), unprotected sex, also Yuuta going down the yandere route at the end I'm not playing so if it's not your cup of tea don't read

A/N: wrote this in one sitting after aleks @yuutito said something about yuuta and older woman that rewired my brain (how dare she went to sleep after casually telling me this like I wasn't going to just just sit there thinking about *redacted*-ing this ver of him in 124352 different positions). i was supposed to be watching my kids playing in my backyard but i wrote this instead. pls don't call child support. this is also supposed to be a drabble 🤡 🔫 i was going to send it to her on discord but a few people were asking if i was dead (girl, only on the inside lol) cause i haven't posted in a while so hi everyone guess who came back from the war (i'll go through my inbox asap i promise ily)

P.S: don't use your brain when you read this cause i certainly didn't use mine when i wrote this only my dick

Yuuta Okkotsu is your new neighbor.

He lives across the street, and you’re not close to him, not yet. He’s younger than you, much younger than you—a fresh graduate from a reputable university who’s lucky enough to be able to work from home. He doesn’t go out much, but he’s friendly, always leaving good impressions around the neighborhood. Everyone knows Yuuta. Everyone loves Yuuta.

The first time you asked about him, purely out of curiosity, was when you greeted your neighbor next door, an older woman living alone ever since her late husband passed. She just got home from, what you assumed, another trip to the clinic. You saw him stepping down from her porch after making sure she was okay and bidding her with a polite bow. You traded smiles with him, but he didn’t stop for a conversation. You just saw his face turn scarlet at the sight of you, and he dropped a quick “Hello” before he bolted.

“Who was that?” you asked.

“Oh, he’s our sweet neighbor Yuuta.”

“Sweet neighbor Yuuta,” you laughed a little. “He just moved here like three days ago, and everyone calls him that.”

“Because it’s true!”

“Uh-huh, and what did he do that was so sweet to you?”

“He’s helped me with my chores—washing the dishes, bathing my cat, mowing my backyard. He saw me having trouble crossing the street yesterday, so he offered to take me to the clinic today. Such a sweet boy, that man. Very handsome, too.”

That last part you could agree with. Instantly.

You see Yuuta occasionally, always by coincidence, like maybe in the morning when you leave the house to put out your trash or grab a newspaper. He always seems like he’s eager to strike up a conversation but gives up before he can, simply because his heart can’t take it. You know he has a crush on you; it’s clear as day. He’s young, and he’s in love. It’s cute. But you’re married and committed, so that’s that.

You meet him more frequently when he starts going to the same local supermarket. You bumped into him in one of the aisles, with him approaching you first because he saw you struggling to get that ketchup bottle on the top shelf. He’s so polite, and he’s, indeed, very sweet, especially to the elderly, always taking his time to humor them when nobody else seems to pay them any attention. He grabbed the bottle for you, and you ended up chatting with him while waiting in line. He offered to help carry your groceries, and you were thankful because you weren’t sure you could bring everything alone. He walked you to your car, bade you good night, and told you to take care.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

Things haven’t been going well with your husband. It’s fight after fight after fight. At first, your relationship became so strained because you couldn’t conceive even after two years of marriage. The truth is, you don’t want to have a baby, not too soon, not when you still want to focus on living your life, but he wants it terribly, and if you want your marriage to work out, there’s no other choice but to try. You’re somehow glad that the universe seemed to work in your favor, at least for now.

You’re unsure if it’s your fault or his—you don’t have the money or time to get yourself tested. Nevertheless, he kept trying, turning your sex life into a string of dull experiments, one after another. It didn’t come as a surprise that after a while, he gave up. What did come as a surprise was when he started cheating.

You have reasons to back your assumptions from all the evidence you’ve found along the way. The lipstick stain on his shirt, the hint of female perfume in his car, the way he never left his phone out of reach, terrified of you looking into it. It’s enough.

It’s Friday night. Your husband won’t be home until late. Still got a bunch of stuff to do at work, he said, which is another way of saying, I got my secretary sucking my dick since you barely even bother anymore. Which is true.

You’re tired of him. You’re tired of having sex with him where he only cares about him cumming inside you and nothing more. You’re so tired of fighting. And now that he's cheating on you, you grow too tired to care. About him. About your marriage. About everything.

So, you head down to a bar one night just to distract yourself. And there he is again. Yuuta. Sitting by himself, watching a football game on the big screen with a beer bottle in hand. He looks rather… lonely, a new face that makes your heart twitch a bit. His solemn look makes him more gorgeous in a way, more mature, more mysterious, and girls love that, don’t they? A slightly dangerous aura to a very sweet face, unapproachable yet inviting.

But that doesn’t last too long because the moment he sees you, his face brightens entirely. He smiles, standing up from his seat to greet you, and you meet him halfway. You end up chatting all night. He’s a fantastic listener, and he’s so kind and thoughtful with each word, comforting you the way you need the most. It’s embarrassing that you nag about your husband like this, but he seems genuinely interested in helping you convey your emotions, and you just can’t stop. It feels so liberating.

Yuuta buys you your favorite drink but also reminds you not to get too much alcohol in your system. You begin to trust him, knowing for certain he won’t take any advantage of you. He walks you home right after. It’s true that he lives right across your house, but he makes sure you get inside safely. He leaves only after he sees you close and lock the door behind you. You spy on him from the window, wanting to see what he does after you’re gone. You see him rubbing a hand over his face, flushed from ears to neck, looking extremely happy that he got to spend time with you.

He’s so cute, you think to yourself. Like a high school lovesick boy, kind of cute.

Yuuta then notices your husband’s missing car, meaning that you’re alone in the house. He looks sad on your behalf, which is so kind of him to think about your feelings that much. Then he turns upset, as if he was thinking, how dare he stay out so late, leaving her without protection like this. Looking visibly worried, he then texts you, “Let me know if you need anything, okay? My door is open for you anytime.” You smile and promptly reply to him with, “That’s so kind of you, thank you.”

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

These friendly sorts of private meetings between you and him go on for a while. Your husband often arrives late, usually drunk out of his mind or too tired to stay for a chat, and he heads straight to bed without even giving you a goodnight kiss. It hurts, but it’s fine. The more your husband breaks your heart, the harder Yuuta will try to mend it and make it whole again. And he did. Every night, when you’re lucky enough to see him, you’ll feel like a heavy weight is lifted from your chest. You feel… happy, even in this terrible situation, and it’s all because of him.

You usually hang out with him at the bar, but sometimes you don’t feel like going for a ten-minute drive, and you choose to just cross the road and knock your fist against his door. No matter what hour you visit, day or night, for a morning latte or evening tea, he always greets you with the prettiest smile.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

Weeks passed by, and now you spend most of your free time chatting with him, sitting on the couch in his living room, and talking about yourself more than you ever did with your husband. He likes listening to you talk about yourself, and he tells you that you shine so brightly when you talk about the things you’re passionate about. He always stammers out his praises, looking like he’s seconds away from combusting into flames just from calling you beautiful or something. He’s so young, so inexperienced yet passionate when it comes to love and romance, and it shows.

You ask questions about himself, too, and you can understand why it’s addicting for him to watch you speak, because the second he does that, he’s breathtaking.

You find out that he likes the things you like, he’s watched the movies you’ve seen, and he’s read your favorite books. It’s not just a coincidence, is it? Maybe you’re a match made in heaven. But even so, nothing happens. He’s too respectful, and he makes you respect yourself. You’re married, and he’s a close friend of yours. That’s it.

He’s just your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

One morning, you find a bouquet sitting on your porch. Oh, right, today’s our anniversary. Your husband has this habit of sending you your favorite flowers on your anniversary. He does this every year, which is nice of him, but you really didn’t think he’d send you one this year, seeing how he barely exchanged more than three sentences with you. So now that you receive his flowers, you’re beginning to think, oh, maybe he’s trying to fix things between us. You’re not sure if you want that, though, not anymore. Most of your heart already belongs to someone else, which is terrible since you’re married, but you can’t help it.

You pick up the flowers anyway; too pretty to be thrown away. You open the card attached to it. I will love you forever, it says, written in his handwriting. The way he wrote the letter f is a little different. Looks like he wrote in a rush, you presume. Either that, or he just didn't care enough. And it’s whatever; you didn’t expect much anyway. You appreciate the thought until your eyes land on the name he wrote.

That’s not my fucking name.

He must have sent flowers to his secretary at the same time and had his card switched. That fucking cheater.

You thought you didn’t care about him anymore, but God, now you’re livid.

Yuuta shows up at the perfect place and at the perfect time. He invites you over to have dinner together at his place. “J-just, you know, as friends,” he says, unconsciously giving you the confirmation that he does not think of you as a friend. Not at all.

So you come over in a beautiful red dress later that evening, and he stares at you, completely in awe, for a good three seconds. “You, umm—” He blushes madly, his head so full of steam he could barely think. “You look like… like a goddess.”

“Thank you,” you simper. That was so corny for him to say, but he meant every word, which makes it endearing. “You look amazing, too.” And he is. God, he looks so handsome in his black buttoned-down shirt, and his parted hair, and his sweet, sweet smile.

I want to fuck the shit out of him.

It’s the monster inside you who speaks it. The part of you that’s been neglected for so long, that’s never been touched in the way you wanted to. And it’s screaming, begging for Yuuta to love you.

But no. We’re friends. We’re just friends, aren’t we, Yuuta?

Yuuta cooks, too, apparently. Every dish looks fucking delicious, and everything else is perfect. The table setting decorated with your favorite flowers. The scented candles with your favorite fragrance set up romantically on top of the cozy fireplace. The soft music playing in the background, a piano instrumental of your favorite song. It’s like a date. A celebration. Like something you should’ve had with your husband today.

“You did all of this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Hmm?”

You gesture to your surroundings. “We’ve read the same books and watched the same movies. Okay, fine, maybe we have the same taste. But this song, those flowers, everything you’ve set up in this room, you did all of these for me, didn’t you?”

He pauses before he tucks his chin, avoiding your gaze. “I just… wanted to make you happy,” he confesses bashfully. “Is it… Is it too much? Do you not like it?”

“Yuuta, of course, I love it.” You stroke his arm, washing his worry away. “I just… I’ve never had someone care about me this much before…”

He melts under your touch, and there’s so much he wants to say, but his lips form nothing but a sad smile. He caresses your face with tender hand, his fingertips quivering slightly when they land on your cheek. His heart must be beating like crazy right now, you smile to yourself, leaning further into his touch to soothe him.

“I would do this every day for you if you let me,” he whispers, promise behind each word. “I would make you happy, so happy you’d forget what sadness feels like. What loneliness feels like.”

That stirs something inside your chest. “And what do you want in return for that?” You slide up a hand, testing his limit.

He stops your hand by covering it with his own. For a second, just for a brief second, he emits a different feeling. There’s intensity behind his gaze that burns you as if he wanted you all to himself. And that’s understandable. No man, especially one who’s so desperately in love like him, would want to share his woman with someone else, but he knows the situation they’re in, doesn’t he? It’s just not possible for you to be together, not now, not completely. Maybe that’s why he switches back in a blink, smiling until his eyes crinkle adorably. “Nothing,” he answers. “As long as we can be friends like this, it’s more than enough for me.”

He’s a terrible liar, you think, slightly amused. It’s cute how he tries so hard to conceal his feelings and you still can read him like an open book.

The food tastes as amazing as it looks, even down to the last bite. You don’t talk about the bouquet, afraid that you’ll ruin the mood, but Yuuta is always so attentive when it comes to you. He asks you what happened, and he hugs you the second he sees tears brimming in your eyes. You’re not sad. You’re fucking angry. And thank God Yuuta is there to let you vent your frustrations. You go as far as telling him almost every little shitty thing your husband did to you behind your back, as well as the slutty secretary that’s been sleeping with him for money. It feels relieving to finally say their names out loud, with so much hatred, so much rage, and to have Yuuta respond with, “No matter how pretty she is, she’s nothing compared to you. Your husband doesn’t deserve you. If I were him, I would’ve—” he stops himself, just in time, flustered and mortified under your gaze.

You’re older. You’re older than him by eight, no, nine years even. You know what’s going to happen if you encourage him to say the words he’s been dying to say. You know what it’s going to do to your relationship. But fuck that. If there were one man in this world who knew how to treat you like you deserve…

It’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

So, by the time the two of you move to the couch with some wine in your system, you lean forward, letting your fingers trace the protruding vein on the back of his hand. His eyes widen at the way your dress does very little to hide your cleavage, but he averts his gaze right away, being the gentleman that he is. But tonight, you want him to be the opposite of that. You don’t want him to be sweet; you want him to let his desire win. There’s a monster hiding inside him, something much more terrible than your own. You sometimes caught its glimpse when he thought you weren’t looking his way. The amount of obsession that fogged his eyes, his fixation over you, turning his sapphire blue eyes so dark, so deep, so intense, like he wanted to have you locked up in his room, tied up and used and thoroughly fucked until you found no strength to stand and no will to escape. It should’ve been a scary thought, but it wasn’t. It was… exciting.

“I want to hear it, Yuu…” Seduction lays thickly in your voice as you lay a gentle hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to you. You stare up at him from underneath your lashes with this look in your eyes that makes his breath hitch in his throat. “If you were my husband…” You wet your lip, your tongue a sinful dance to his eyes. “What would you do to make me feel…” You purposely drop your gaze to his lips, letting him catch your message. “…loved?”

You watch him gulp, goosebumps breaking on his skin. You watch his eyes fall to see the way you rub your thumb over the bumps on his knuckles. You watch them turn half-lidded as they linger a second too long on your lips. And you watch him break all control he has over himself, and you let him devour you the way you’ve been wanting him to.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

And he tastes even sweeter with your cum on his tongue.

It’s happening too fast, yet it feels like it’s not going fast enough. He starts by holding you by the face, slotting his lips against yours, passionate and gentle at the same time. He pulls away for a moment to see your reaction, and when you kiss him back, he lets out this sinful moan that causes your stomach to churn.

He’s so fucking sexy. Even without trying, he is.

In the next second, he’s eating you out on the couch, spreading your legs, and kneeling on the floor with his head trapped between your thighs, wanting to get as much of you as you can give him. When his tongue circles your clit, and he’s moaning against your heat, it feels so good you almost run away, not used to experiencing this much pleasure. It’s scary how easily he plays with your body. How fast he can tell which part of yours likes to be licked, which ones want to be sucked, and which ones want to be fucked. He moves agonizingly slow, but each touch feels so right that you find no reason to complain. He’s sure to take his time with you, to make you feel loved in the way a wife should be when her husband makes love to her.

He takes hold of your thighs, holding you tight, but you want it even tighter to the point of leaving bruises all over your skin so you can show them to your husband later. His gaze is intense, constantly keeping his eyes on you. Your expression turns him on, making him ache so bad within the constraints of his pants that his eyes turn watery, desperate for release. He’s too ashamed to ask you to touch him, and maybe he doesn’t want to be touched, not yet, he just wants to focus on pleasuring you for now. So he keeps sucking your clit into his mouth, and he slides one hand into his own jeans to grip his cock tightly. He fucks his fist as fast as he fucks your hole with his tongue, groaning, whining, whimpering against your cunt. He’s pathetic. You love it.

You push him down to the carpeted floor after you drench his mouth and chin with your juice, and you push his fingers, coated with his own cum, into your mouth. He curses once at the sight, and it’s so sexy when he does it. After all this time hearing him talk so softly, so innocently, hearing a low, “Fuck, you're making me lose my mind,” tumbling off his lips is such a fucking turn-on.

You tear yourself away from your dress before you rip open the buttons of his shirt, not caring if the two of you are in the middle of his living room, visible for anyone to see if they dare take a peek through the window. You wish the light in the room were brighter. It would’ve been a lovely show for your husband if he came home to see you riding another man’s cock, using Yuuta to your own satisfaction, and watching him make you cum the way he couldn’t.

Yuuta, oblivious to your thoughts, is gasping out your name, one arm hiding his beet-red face while his other one is gripping your thigh. “W-wait,” he flinches, his breathing tattered. “You’re going—too fast—”

You know you are, but it’s so good that you can’t stop. His cock rubs your walls so deliciously as if it was made solely for this purpose. You cum so fast, so hard, and he follows almost right away, unable to hold it even longer when he sees you looking like that when you cummed.

Your body is still trembling when he suddenly lifts you off his cock and guides you to his face. “Ride me again,” he says, begging. “Please, Angel, I want to taste you again.” And you do, sitting on his face and letting him lick, suck, and lap at everything that seeps out of you.

He��s staring at your swollen clit, licking his lips and seemingly dazed as he rubs his thumb softly over it. “I’m sorry I came inside you,” he says, genuinely feeling guilty about it despite you giving him permission to.

You shiver, still feeling so sensitive for receiving so much stimulation at once. “It’s okay. I can’t get pregnant anyway,” you laugh it off. “I haven’t gotten myself checked yet, but we’ve been trying for two years, and nothing has happened yet, so…”

His gaze darkens. “I see,” is the only thing he utters before he scoops you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. You’re surprised; you really thought that was it. Both of you came twice already in, like, fifteen minutes. That’s enough, isn’t it? But he’s still young, and he has a lot of energy that leaves him insatiable. If you let him, he’ll have you for the entire night.

It’s not a bad thing, not at all.

So you kneel in front of him on the bed, bite the corner of your lip to drive him even more insane, and stroke him slowly with your hand. “You still want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” he breathes out, the muscles in his abdomens tautening. “Yes, Ma’am, please…”

Ma’am? You almost laugh. How does he keep getting cuter and cuter?

“Okay.” You reward him with a little kiss on the head of his cock, robbing a soft whimper out of his mouth. Lying down on the bed, you spread your legs, sliding two fingers down your body to do the same to your cunt. “Come here and love me again, Yuu.”

He obliges in a split second. Yuuta has so much love to give, and he lets his mouth, his tongue, and his cock paint a perfect picture on your body.

Everything feels like heaven until he suddenly stops in the middle of thrusting his hips, earning himself an impatient whine. His blue eyes have lost their warm, pretty light. They’re as dark as the night, but lust and greed are the perfect colors for him. He sits on his knees, resting your ankles on his shoulders, breathing heavily.

“Yuuta?”

He’s not listening, too captivated by the way his tip slides in and out so easily. You’re so fucking wet for him; it’s embarrassing, but Yuuta would take a picture of you like this in a heartbeat, with your wedding ring still wrapped around your finger and his cock sheathed deep inside you, should you allow him to.

He splays his hand over your stomach, giving a little pressure to your womb. You squirm, suddenly feeling like you no longer have control over anything, over him, not like the way you did before. It’s frightening and thrilling at the same time. “Yuuta, what are you—” Your jaw turns slack at the sensation when he thrusts inside, just once, just to see how far it goes within your walls. He’s so hard and thick and throbbing that you could practically feel him poking from inside of your stomach. And perhaps he’s thinking the same thing, his eyes glistening when he feels a bulge forming under his palm. He swallows. He looks… hungry.

“You said you couldn’t get pregnant,” he says, running a tongue across his lower lip, his eyes still fixated on the way you’re taking him so well, all stretched out and tight around him. “You know what I think?” He pulls himself out completely, shivers in his breath. “I think you’re wrong.” He slams his hips forward so abruptly, and with so much force, you have one hand shooting past your head to keep a safe distance away from the headboard.

“Yuuta—” You gasp out, struggling to match his rhythm. “Wait—”

He only smiles a little, chuckles a little. He’s so far gone. He leans forward until you’re pressed chest to chest, folding you in half before he laces his fingers together with yours. “I think you can get pregnant.” He moves closer to your ear, whispering with his lips caressing your lobe, “And I’m going to show you how.”

He fucks the breaths out of you, swallowing each cry with his mouth, embracing you so tightly you can feel his heart beating against yours. “I’m sorry,” he pants, “It hurts, doesn’t it? I—” He’s interrupted with a low groan, feeling you clenching around him.“—really am sorry—” He smashes his lips against yours, smothering you with his kisses, too. “I know I’m being too rough, but I can't—” He has one hand gripping the top of his headboard, giving him more support to drive his hips even deeper. “I can’t—stop—” He fucks you again, and again, harder each time until you find yourself unable to make sounds. “You’re so good... You feel so good around me... My angel…” You’re being folded, handled, trapped, and he fucks you until you’re drained, until you’re filled, until he’s spent. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Just a little bit more..." He kisses your forehead and your cheek to soothe you down, cradling your head as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His hips start to move erratically. “Don’t ever leave me… I will love you forever, so—ah, God—” He chokes out a sob when he feels you spasming around him again, reeling in another wave of orgasm that hit you so intensely, you see white.

It takes him a little over an hour until he finally lets you go. For now, at least.

But once he gives you a chance to breathe, he cleans you up so gently, dabbing a warm towel over your skin, peppering kisses as soft as butterfly wings down your back, your thighs, your chest, before ending his journey at your stomach. He rubs the supple flesh of your belly and smiles, completely satisfied after giving you his everything. And it scares you a little bit because… You might really end up getting pregnant this time.

“I have to go before he comes home,” you say, feeling your body ache terribly when you try to raise yourself off the bed. They’re not shown vividly yet, but there will be bruises in the morning in places you’re not sure you can cover.

Yuuta hugs you from the side when you barely have one foot on the floor, whispering against the bare skin of your hip, “I’m not letting you go.”

It makes you happy. You feel so wanted, so loved, even after all the affection he gave you all night. The truth is, you don’t want to leave. Ever. To walk into your own home after experiencing what heaven feels like… It would be torturous.

“I wish I could stay with you, too.”

“You do?” He looks up with big, round eyes, hope residing in each one of them. “Would you stay with me forever?”

“If I could,” you reply and it’s true. God, if only you could stay forever with him, let him love you this way, forever. That would be perfect, wouldn't it?

“That makes me happy…” He takes both of your hands, kissing you on each wrist before he does the same to your palms. “That makes me so happy…”

It tickles, so you laugh a little. He makes the same sweet sound, the sound of a boy in love.

“I really need to go, though…” You whisper, hypnotized when he starts pushing your digit past his lips. It’s warm and wet inside his mouth, waking up the butterflies in your stomach. He keeps his eyes on you, looking so sensual as he sucks around your finger, enveloping it from base to tip. “Yuuta…”

“I understand.” He pulls away, ending it with a kiss. He seems disheartened, his smile doesn't shine as bright anymore and it hurts you. "I guess you left me with no choice."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He returns your embrace, just one more time before you have to let him go. “Can you turn around for me, please? I want to give you something,” he softly smiles. “A present. It will be quick, I promise.”

You do as he says, excited at the thought of it. What will he give you? Knowing him and how he went through so much effort to prepare a dinner for two friends, you just know it would be something incredibly romantic. Yuuta kisses your nape, open-mouthed and lingering. You nibble on your lip to suppress your moan as he trails his lips from between your shoulder blades down to your spine.

“Yuuta,” you sigh, squeezing your thighs together. You’re aching for him again, and it’s dangerous. Your husband can come anytime soon. “I know what you want, and really, I wish I could stay,” you say from the bottom of your heart, looking over your shoulder to see him, and you’re immediately answered by a kiss. He presses his chest to your spine, one hand cupping half of your neck and your jaw to keep you in place so he can deepen the kiss. His mouth moves with fervor, filling you up with desire, and if it weren’t for the sound of your husband’s car moving into your driveway, you would’ve let him take you there for another hour or two.

“I need to leave. Now.” You break away to gather your clothes quickly. Except you can’t.

You can’t move your hands.

Robbed out of your balance, you fall face-first to the floor. Your breath catches, your heart plummeting to your stomach when you realize you have your hands tied behind your back. You feel something rough grazing against your skin. There’s a rope ensnaring your wrists together, and it’s digging painfully into your flesh every time you struggle to break free.

Panic rises quickly to your chest. You look up, your body froze with terror at the sight of him smiling at you.

He’s not your sweet neighbor Yuuta. Not anymore.

This is the monster you caught a glimpse of before, in full form. His handsome features suddenly feel unrecognizable, not when you can no longer witness the warmth in his eyes.

What is happening? You breathe fast, frightened beyond your mind. Why is he doing this?

“I told you I’m not letting you go,” he says, walking slowly toward you. With every step he takes, your urge to escape grows bigger.

The second the dread sinks in, you part your lips to scream for help, but he clasps a hand over your mouth just in time. “Sshh shhh shhh,” he whispers, bringing you back to your feet. “We wouldn’t want your husband to find out, would we?”

You try to kick and toss your body around, but he’s strong, much stronger than you could ever imagine him to be. From your peripheral vision, you see him taking out a syringe from a drawer behind him, fitted with a hollow needle to inject the clear liquid into your skin. You feel your heart pounding in your throat, your scream muffled as he sinks it into your skin. “There, there. Off you go, honey,” he whispers in your ear, as you begin to lose your will to fight. Your consciousness slowly wanes away with each second passing by. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. It’s only scary at the beginning, I promise.” He tosses the syringe away, now empty. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Did you like the card I gave you?”

The card? What card?

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I’m sorry for tricking you like that,” he says with a little pout. “Truly, I am. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I had to do something to push you over the edge. I knew you liked me too from the start, but you wouldn’t make the first move. You kept staying faithful even when your husband was cheating on you like that. I admire you for that,” he sighs, utterly smitten by you, but only for a second before his tone drops. “But I was getting impatient, you see. And I knew you were, too. I watched your favorite movies. I read your favorite books. I learned everything about you and did everything you liked, but you still wouldn’t leave your husband for me. So you left me with no choice. I have to make you understand,” he slides his hand up your stomach, passing the valley between your breasts before he chooses to linger there, squeezing, teasing, pleasing. “That no one can touch you like I do. No one can love you like I do.”

You can feel him kissing your neck, licking a stripe up from your collarbone to the spot below your ear. “It was quite tricky copying his handwriting like that. There’s one letter I still can’t do very well even now. But it was enough to trick you, so I think everything’s fine in the end,” he chuckles, the sound filling your chest with horror, though you could barely register it now, not with the drug flowing in your system.

“You asked me what I would do to make you feel loved if I were your husband.” He carries you closer to the window, letting you see, with all the little power you have left, your husband closing the door of his car. Yuuta embraces you from behind, his hands tangled around your waist as he lets you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m gonna show it to you.” You watch your husband make his way to your porch, oblivious to what’s happening in the dark room across the street. “I’m gonna love you, Angel. I will love you forever. With all my heart. And I’m gonna take my time. I’ll be so thorough with you that once I’m done, you won’t be able to spend a second of your life without me.”

Your husband closes his front door, and with it goes your last chance of escaping, if there was even one.

You start losing strength in your legs, in your arms, but you’re still able to cry, and so you do just that. It won’t help you, nothing will help you, no one will help you, and no one will know what he’s doing to you, not when everyone thinks so fondly of him.

“Oh, Sweetheart, don’t cry.” He kisses your tears away, landing an even softer one on your temple. “Don’t be afraid of me, my love. After all, it’s just me.” He meets your eyes in the reflection of his window, smiling with his hand holding the front of your neck.

“Your sweet neighbor Yuuta.”

***