#also these titles are half made up but they sounded fitting

[dmitryanya]

enjoy the scrapped sketches i did for gwen and art are not in love ( before settling on the piece i posted here ) when i was considering a card kind of concept for these four !!

[darnell-la]

𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗦 𝗔 𝗕𝗜𝗚 𝗗𝗢𝗚

pairing: the worst!logan howlett x younger generation!reader

warnings: Logan easing into the new world and generation, mention of Wade trying to get roommate!reader and Logan together, making a TikTok, sniffing, smut, etc.

note: “she don’t want no puppy! She wanna BIG dawg!”

———

Logan had thought living with Wade would be a bad idea. He belonged in his last universe with what he’s done. He brought himself down for years, mentally and physically, hoping the pain would stop. Thankfully, it finally had.

It’s been almost a year since Logan has lived with Wade and his younger roommate. The match seemed off when he first met her, but after the first hour, she knew why she and Wade were close friends.

The girl was in college, young, pretty, had a small job at the campus, and loved parties, and things that Wade did daily.

Logan had a small argument with y/n a couple of weeks ago after she gifted him an iPhone. She said he needed it to keep in touch with her and Wade. She also said he needed a bit of humor.

He had no idea what that meant until she made a TikTok for the man. The videos that came up on his page didn’t make sense to him, he he still laughed at them.

He had no idea what happened to himself, but sending memes to y/n every hour was a habit.

After sending y/n a TikTok video, he swiped and came across a sound that confused him.

The man in the video was lip-syncing a song as she showed his muscles. Logan gave a disgusting look at his phone, thinking the man looked ridiculous until he read the title.

“When she chose you because you’re height starts with a six and your weight starts with a two”

Logan sent the video to y/n, asking her what he meant by that. He didn’t know being a muscle-tall man was a trend.

“Logan, I’m in the room next to you, just come here!” Y/n shouted in her room, making him sigh loudly as he got off of the couch for the first time in what felt like days.

“I just wanted to know what he meant? Like is being big and tall a trend? Like, if that’s the case, then I’d be viral,” Logan used words that y/n and Wade ran him by.

“God, Logan — Do people your age question everything?” Y/n checked her phone and noticed what trend he sent her. She’s thought about this trend but with Logan in it. He fits it perfectly, but Wade would tease her if she’d ever brought it up.

“I’m just askin', Bub. Seemed stupid to me,” Logan shrugged his shoulders. “Because you haven’t tried it,” y/n defended her generation. “So, you’re into that stuff? God, y/n — Never knew you’d be one of those kids,”

“I do like it, and since you’re so boring, we’re gonna have you do it, so c’mere,” y/n stood up from her bed and placed her phone down on her desk after clicking the sound.

“Gotta take your shirt off for it,” y/n lied, but she knew he’d do it, even if he complained. “No fuckin’ way, bub,” Logan laughed as he turned around to go back to his sofa until she grabbed his arm softly.

“Please! You never do TikTok’s with me,” y/n fake cried, annoying him in an instant. “Ain’t takin’ my shirt off for no little girls online. I’d get, what’s it called? Canceled?” Logan said, making her laugh.

“Logan, you sound stupid as fuck. Take off the shirt — Unless you’re jealous they look better than you,” y/n shrugged her shoulders as she went back to her bed to sit down, acting like she didn’t care to get a reaction out of him.

“Bub, you know I look better than them, so stop the lyin,” Logan felt a bit upset at her words. Y/n ignored him for what felt like hours, so he sighed and gave up. “Swear to god, I’d Wade say some shit about this, I’ll kill him,”

Logan and y/n worked on the TikTok for an half hour, trying to get the right angle since he kept saying he didn’t look good enough.

Y/n never complained. Watching him walk through her door repeatedly, then editing the video in slow motion, made her stomach tingle.

At first, Logan felt uncomfortable. She could smell the young lady, but he didn’t want to say anything. He’d be a pervert if he did, so he kept quiet, thinking it would go away, but he knew her spot grew bigger.

“So, you think I’m a big dog?” Logan genuinely asked as y/n began to edit the TikTok video. “What makes you think that?” She asked; thinking she nailed her scared response, but Logan saw the quick stutter in her fingers as she typed on her phone.

“Just askin, bub,” Logan said before taking a small sniff. He was leaning on her doorway as she sat on her bed. He was so far., yet she smelt so close.

He cussed himself out in his head, upset that Wade had won this “you’ll like her eventually” argument. Logan swore she was too young, and even made her feel a bit bad.

He had thought y/n had moved on, maybe got over the thought of her having a chance with Wade’s new friend, but the smell she had, is making him go insane.

All she’s doing is making a TikTok. That’s it, but he can’t stop thinking about the spot she’s soaking in her panties. He felt nasty, but in a good way after a while. The lust was taking him over.

“You happy you’ve got your little video?” Logan asked as he kicked off of her dorm frame and walked towards her bed to sit next to her.

“Yes, finally,” she smiled at him before continuing her edit. Logan scanned the girl's body slowly, watching how spotty her breathing was, seeing goosebumps form on her arms, and watching her leg shake a bit.

“Is that so?” He asked as he placed his hand on her thigh. She’s always been a sweet bean to him, but he ignored it. He tried his best to prove Wade wrong, but she was hard to ignore, and Wade knew that. Wade knew y/n would bring something out in the grumpy old man.

“Mhm hm,” Y/n mumbled as she pushed the post on her phone. “Think it’ll get a lot of likes,” she looked to the side at Logan who was now closer than she thought.

“And why is that? I look good?” He asked her, eyes on her soft and pretty lips. “Uh, yeah — Think the viewers will like it,” she awkwardly smiled, feeling her heart raise.

“Think you liked it more than the viewers will,” Logan almost whispered. Y/n just noticed how his shirt was still off. Why was his shirt still off?

“Seen you repost that video, y/n. You’re not slick,” Logan spoke about the video he had sent her. “Think you were thinkin’ about me when you did it,” the man smirked.

“I- I was just reposting,” Y/n stuttered as his hand slowly cupped her chin. “Guess I’m not the big dog you’re lookin’ for them,” Logan faked sighing as he pulled his hand back.

Before he could turn around to get up, y/n grabbed his face and pulled him into a short but long kiss, hoping to get the best out of this one-time thing.

“Told you last you, you ain’t for me, baby,” Logan said, making y/n look down in embarrassment. “I know,” she said. “I lied — Was just goin’ through a little somethin,” Logan admitted before pulling her back into a kiss, this time rough.

Y/n gasped as he breathed into her mouth, sucking on her lips like he’d starved for days. “Lo,” y/n moaned low at the feeling of his pulling her into his rough kisses.

Logan decided to push Y/n down on her bed and lean over her, keeping their lips together. Y/n instantly wrapped her legs around the man, pulling him closer as he moved his hips, grinding on her to feel the pressure.

“Oh, fuck,” Logan groaned in between their kiss, feeling his cock leak already. “If I fuck you, Wade wins,” Logan pulled back from the girl, taking a look into her eyes. She thought the man would leave, get off of her and never speak to her again, until he assured her, he was staying.

“Fuck it — Can’t resist you anymore, baby,” Logan smashed his lips back onto the young lady's lips, kissing her roughly as he tugged on his jeans. All y/n had to do was pull up the gown she wore almost every day she was off of work when she was too lazy to dress up.

“Wait- We need a condom,” y/n leaned up, but Logan pushed her back down. “Oh, no we don’t. Your cunts leaking too much for me to not feel her,” Logan said. She was confused, not knowing how he knew she was wet until she thought to herself.

He’s a mutant. His only powers can’t be regeneration and speed.

“Fuck, I-“ y/n cut herself off, embarrassed at her pervy actions. He probably smells her all the time. “Caught red-handed,” Logan chuckled as he put his cock in hand.

“Always wet around the house. Teasin’ me and basically beggin’ for me every day. Wished I took you to my room when I first met you. Maybe by now, we’d have our little family,”

Logan pushed into the girl, giving her no time to think about what he had just said about a family.

She’s never thought of a family with Logan. It’s not he wasn’t father material, it’s the fact she’s only been thinking about him pleasing her, and pleasing her only.

“Fuck, that’s it,”

[2tarbell]

hiii starrr happy (belated) birthday🥳!!! may i please req a raspberry sorbet for premature ejac with bsf rafe? tysmm<333

BSF!RAFE + PREMATURE EJAC ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

the moment felt perfect: high as fuck at a party and finally getting your hands on your best friend in somebody’s bathroom.

‘don’t let the high go to waste’ he whispered against your mouth — that was how he got you into the bathroom.

his skin was warm and smooth under your palms, firm ridges of his muscles leaving your stomach tingling in anticipation. dumbass backwards hat on and his shirt abandoned on the floor. wet patch on your panties only growing.

rafe was just as bad. all half lidded eyes and breathless grumbles of how pretty you were, how much he liked you. groping hands unforgiving. his bulge was demanding attention from where it was pressing into your stomach.

you both were desperate.

“y’so big. fuck..”

the whispered compliment fell from your mouth involuntarily, simply a reaction to the roll of his hips into yours. the tension was building as he chuckled against your swollen lips, thumbing at the underside of your bra.

“y’think so, sweetheart?” he mumbled, nudging his nose down your jaw.

your neck craned to the side to give him more room to litter open mouthed kisses to the skin. the sensation of his teeth dragging across your pulse point made your body arch forward, further into him.

you could hardly recognize your voice, so breathy and wanton, accompanied by an eager nod, “need it…”

those words made rafe smirk. you felt the pull of his lips against your neck, just imagining that shit-eating look on his handsome face made your knees feel weak. if he wasn’t holding you up before, he was now.

“yeah? you need daddy’s cock?”

the shiver you let out at the title wasn’t unnoticed by him. never has he seen you so needy. so desperate for his attention… and also apparently his dick.

this wasn’t how he saw his night going — after imagining this scenario so many times with his fist wrapped around himself, rafe definitely wasn’t complaining. not with the way you were looking at him and grinding against his thigh.

your shaky hands yank at his belt, frantically pushing and pulling the buckle until it gives. in seconds your fingers are wrapping around him and his pants are halfway pushed down his thighs. rafe chokes out a moan when your thumb brushes over the sensitive, leaking tip.

the sound of his pre cum squelching around his length fills the silence, punctuated by heavy breaths and groans of your name.

you think he looked beautiful like this — eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape. his hips start meeting your strokes until he abruptly stops. his eyes are shooting open and he’s shuddering against you. large muscles almost molding you into the wall. his voice is frantic as he begs but still thrusts forward—

“wait, wait— no, baby, i’m— shiiiit—“

pearly white ropes shoot out and land on your hand, rafe gasping and his eyes rolling back. his face surges into your neck, riding out his orgasm with a heavy moan.

the silence is back, but this time you can hear the bumping bass of the party. it pulls you out of the high slightly — your nose burning a bit. rafe presses closer and sighs softly. almost like he was… embarrassed?

“that— that wasn’t s’posed to happen. doesn’t happen. i jus’… jus’ the coke and— and i wanted that for a while so it jus’—“

oh!

suddenly you’re giggling and you feel higher than ever. he pulls his head back and lifts an eyebrow at you quizzically.

you bite your lip to try and stifle the joyous little sounds escaping your throat. rafe narrows his eyes and fixes his jaw, but you see a hint of a smile on the side of his mouth. just itching to break through.

“don’t be a brat, kid. c’mon…” he chides.

once the fit of laughter subsides, you’re lifting your cum covered hand to your mouth. tongue darting out to clean up the evidence of the last ten minutes. he watches you with a heaving chest — hanging on the way you lap up his cum like it was a delicacy.

“s’okay, daddy… we’ll just do it again, hm?”

[sluttycelestialgoddess]

If you give Sylus a Hunter...

Synopsis. Sylus has a lot of fun making you beg.

Pairings. Sylus x reader(MC)

Content. MDNI. edging, fem reader, praise, crying, mentions use of evol, pet names (kitten, sweetie, good girl, etc), AFTERCARE.

Word Count. 2.2k (damn... pretty good for my first story)

Author's Note. Thanks for reading my first story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to leave me requests! I wrote this while listening to 'Be Quiet and Drive' by Deftones. (also, did you like the title... I thought of 'when you give a mouse a cookie' and giggled to myself) xo, Z/Chaos

MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.

Sylus had you right where he wanted you. His bed. Again. He looked down at you with his usual arrogant smirk as you whimpered and squirmed. His crimson eyes seemed to be lit with that internal glow they had sometimes when he was excited or wanted something. “Now, now, kitten. Spread those pretty thighs for me. You don’t want me to use my evol again, do you?” he purred sardonically, his left eye beginning to actually glow.

You were almost at your wits end. It had been an hour since he grabbed you out of the hallway of his hilariously (or should you say outrageously?) huge home you were attempting to get to know your way around and all but threw you onto his bed, using his evol to hold your hands above your head as he stripped you bare. He was insatiable. You’d been staying with him for four days at this point and already you’ve had more sex than you had in the last 2 years combined. Which, in the grand scheme of things, you guessed wasn’t much considering you dedicated all your time to becoming a Hunter for Linkon City after the rise of wanderer attacks, resulting in a gnarly dry spell… but his hunger for you was bordering on absurd. Even so, you had to ask yourself… Does he ever get tired?

In this hour that he’d had you at his mercy, he’d managed to edge you to the pinnacle of ecstasy no less than five times, never letting you reach that sweet release. You were a shaking, sobbing, whimpering mess, and he loved it. You were half in the mind to use one of the safe words he declared you use on the first night if you ever found yourself not being able to handle something. But your pride was like a gag, not letting your tongue form the word. “Feather”. How fitting, the smug bastard. 

“‘Feather’ will be to stop. You say that and everything stops. We do not continue. There will be no “break and then get back to it”. Saying that means you’re done for the night. So just be sure that’s the one you want to use,” he had told you. At the time you had giggled, thinking it was endearing, thinking back on it now, you wanted to kick him in the face. No way in hell were you uttering the word “feather” while a trembling, whimpering mess. If only you could actually move your legs to kick him, but nope. Useless appendages. 

You realized Sylus was still waiting for you to comply with his request. Finally having an ounce of control over your legs after they had become jelly sometime in the last 20 minutes, you shakily opened your legs to him, a whimper leaving your lips as the cool air in the room met your soaked lips. I could kick him now… but then he’d keep me like this all night. Fucker.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised, not seeing your thoughts, steadily growing fond of the idea of smashing your foot to his face. You internally smiled at your mental picture, but really you were enjoying yourself all things considered. He leaned over to rub soothing circles over your thigh before running a long finger through your sensitive folds. “You remember your safe words, correct?” he asked with a grin and you nodded, glaring daggers. He chuckled and hummed at how wet you’d gotten, and he hadn’t even put his mouth on you. Looking up to watch your reaction, he slipped his finger in, curling slightly to caress over the spot that always made you gasp. You did, and he smiled at the pretty sound, feeling pride at how well he knew your body. However, he was beginning to think he was being just a tad cruel as he watched your eyebrows knit together and the pitiful whimpers run into each other as they exited your lush lips. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know… I’ll let you come soon. Such a good girl… you look fucking delicious right now,” he cooed as he eased a second finger inside you and coated his thumb in your wetness before rubbing circles over your throbbing clit. Goosebumps covered your skin and you whined, your hips bucking up of their own accord. “Mmm, such a needy kitten. Sweetie, I think you could take a couple more, hm?”

You whimpered out unintelligible curses at the remark and he chuckled. “Sylus… I really don’t know if I can,” you say, finally having found your voice in the string of muttered curses and whines. You clenched your eyes closed as he pressed harder on your clit and curled his fingers deeper. That blossoming warmth entered your tummy again. You fluttered around him and he groaned, wanting so badly to see you come apart, but needing it to be while he was inside you so you could milk him for everything he had. 

“Relax, you can handle it,” he chided with a tsk. “I’ve seen you take more than this, sweet girl. You’re stronger than you think. Tell me how badly you want to cum,” he groaned as you clenched harder around him. You were half scared he would pull back and deny you once again, but also half scared he wouldn’t and it would be over. He rubbed at your thighs, admiring how mouthwatering they were coated in your arousal. “Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You felt the tears begin to sting the back of your eyes and you steeled yourself long enough to whisper through your moans, “Please, Sylus. Please let me cum, baby. I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Anything, hm?” he questioned, obvious interest in his tone as he leaned down and sucked lightly on your clit, replacing his thumb. You gasped as he rolled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your legs shook fiercely and you cried out. Pulling back, fingers and all, he stood over you. The damn tease… His eyes never left yours as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then his pants, rolling them both off and letting them pile on the floor. He leaned down and extended himself over you until your lips met in a passionate kiss. “If you’ll do anything, how about you stay true to your word by cumming around my cock?” he teased as he grabbed it and rubbed it through your slickness. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed against his lips, seeing this as him conceding as long as you came wrapped around him. His lips curved into a dangerous grin at your response, pushing inside with agonizing slowness. He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, I don’t even need to work it in,” he moaned appreciatively as he drove into you with one powerful thrust, no longer able to torture you with slow pumps. Once he was fully seated, he kissed you tenderly as began to move, rubbing his pelvic bone over your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, feeling the tears fall from your clenched eyes as the warmth began to spread again.

Sylus smiled down at your beautiful face, eyes clenched tight with tears trailing down your cheeks. Perfect… She is so perfect. “So beautiful, baby. You’re trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he rubbed your hair with one hand to soothe you and wiped at your tears with the other. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, so you only answered him through an eager nod and whimpers. “Hm, I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Sylus sped up, needing to see you lose yourself in pleasure. Lose yourself while clenched so tightly around him.

This was his favorite part, of course. After repeatedly bringing you to that edge, but pulling back before you could fall, you would always be so wound up that when the orgasm finally came, it would make you delirious with pleasure. He loved watching you as you finally crashed over the edge he kept you from and your face would contort in utter rapture, crying out his name and clenching so tight around him he’d have no choice but to follow you. He shook his head to focus on the present and ground against you to help you to reach what you’ve been begging him for. 

You whimpered as he gave his permission. You let go, no longer holding yourself back. The warmth in your tummy became an inferno as his thrusts became harder, rubbing your clit with his pelvis and the head of his cock jutting against that sweet spot inside you. You were so close. Just a little more pressure… “Please…” you begged on a needy sob. Sylus kissed you harder as he felt his own release building. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up slightly in his arms, holding you so that you hovered over the bed as he pounded into you, holding you both up with his free hand on the mattress. The new angle had him going impossibly deeper, rubbing your clit against him with an intensity that finally pushed you over the boundary he had carefully pulled you from so many times. Your nails raked over his shoulders as you cried out. “Sylus! Yes!”

“That’s my good girl. Cum all over my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight,” he praised with a loud groan, rutting up into you as his own orgasm crashed over him. His grunts filled your ears, and it was his previous words coupled with them and his unrelenting ministrations that made your toes curl. Your body convulsed as wave after wave of pure bliss spiraled over your entire body. Your back arched into Sylus as his cum filled you, his thrusts not wavering as his body shook, ensuring he extended your pleasure as long as possible. 

Eventually, your cries subsided into soft, shuddering breaths as the tremors in your body slowly dissipated. Sylus sat back on his heels, holding you tightly the entire time you came down from your high, rubbing his hands down your back as you stayed wrapped around him. When your shaking stopped, he stood up from the bed. You stayed clutched to him as he walked to the washroom and started a bath. Sylus being Sylus, he added in his favorite epsom salts and relaxing bubble bath as the water filled up steadily. 

“My love, are you okay? I’ll hold you all night if you need, but I want to clean you up and take care of you. You did so well, but I know that had to be draining. Let me wash you then I’ll hold you so you can rest,” he whispered, rubbing his hands down your exposed ribs from where your arms were clasped like a restraint around his neck. He could feel your grip wavering and knew you were going to be out like a light as soon as your head laid down on his chest. You relented, loosening your grip in your legs around his waist as he wrapped his arm around your back and the other under your knees to lower you into the water. You sighed as you relaxed into it. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything,” he said and kissed the top of your head. Methodically, he washed your body, almost like he was worshiping. He took care to be gentle around the sensitive junction of your thighs, kissing your shoulder when he lightly passed over it. He took a cup and filled it with water to run over your hair and began to wash it with his shampoo. She’s going to smell like me… he smiled to himself as he massaged your scalp. After washing it out, he combed through your hair with his fingers coated in conditioner. 

Sylus made sure to take extra good care of you after long sessions like the one today, diligently washing you, feeding you, massaging sore areas, or simply holding you so you know how much he loves you. After fully washing you and drying you off, he carried you back to the bed and laid you down among the mass of pillows and plushies you had “adopted” (as you put it). So beautiful... He smiled down at you, showing you all the love and tenderness he held in his heart for you. You smiled back sleepily and reached out for him to join you. He climbed in and gently pulled your head to his chest, rubbing his hand over your thigh in invitation for you to put it over his to rest. 

You snuggled into him as he kissed your head. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered as you felt yourself beginning to drift off. Your speech slurred as sleep dragged you under. Sylus tightened his arms around you, his muscled chest hugging your cheek. 

“I will always take care of you, my love. You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine. I love you, sweetie. Rest.”

[zaahvi]

slowly starting to work on my own evanuris designs, first up are dirthamen and falon'din! (i did the busts a month ago now and hadn't decided on the outfits yet so that's why the colours don't match lmao)

some more design notes under the cut :)

next designs -> june & sylaise • andruil & ghilan'nain • falon'din ii • geldauran

in my headcanon, dirthamen was their original spirit (of guidance) and split while making his body because his soul was conflicted about whether he wanted to, or remain as a spirit. when he split, "dirthamen" was content with his new form, while the other half - falon'din - was not, and was twisted into despair. specifically, i imagine it as the sort of despair where you try to cling onto anything to try to make yourself happy, but to no avail.

i thought it'd be neat for them to have a mark symbolising their spirit shattering, like a birthmark. then making it look like their (eventual) vallaslin design made a lot of sense.

i had an idea for dirthamen to have one eye a long time ago, because he has a LOT of similarities to our odinn - god of knowledge and wisdom, often depicted as a hooded figure, and has two ravens (interestingly, while fear and deceit sound like demon names, huginn ("thought") and muninn (anything from: memory, will, remembrance, intention) sound like spirit names). and while elgar'nan holds odinn's title of all-father, he's more like tyr imo.

dirthy's outfit was loosely based off the robed evanuris in the black codex concept art where they're doing the ritual at the blight box lol. i saw that person and was like yeah that's my special god with his dark robes and his little dagger. ofc i had to give him more style though, and dropped in some colour (as falon'din has canonically claimed the colour black) i decided on green because of his eye colour, and turquoise because sometimes when light hits ravens' feathers they kinda look blue. his mosaic has him covering his mouth, so i covered his mouth here too. also, i know his symbol has a little mohawk thing going on in the ingame statues, i couldn't draw it at that angle guys i'm sorry, shapes are hard.

since falon'din mirrors dirthamen in appearance, he got the single eye too. his colours are also more muted because of the whole despair thing. i also found it really interesting that his symbol is the sun, i 100% thought that was sylaise, but it makes sense as sometimes the setting sun is seen as a symbol of death. also the crook he has on his mosaic was really interesting to me and i included it after i read an 18 page paper on them while researching. it's a shepherd's tool - but can also be seen as a symbol of power/status, and there's quite a few of our irl gods depicted holding one. it's honestly really fascinating. that little magic spark doesn't mean anything though it's just for flair :)

i put fally in an ancient elven armour with minimal design changes as he doesn't strike me as sentimental and is rather more like someone who wants to show off and be the cuntiest person in the room at all times. although black is his colour, again i muted it a little, same with the gold. i may edit his design a little in the future to include his owls but for now i'm just kinda trying to figure out how they'd fit in

[dnd-writes]

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Pt. 1

AO3

Tags: Non-con, this whole fic is just one whole degenerate lump of non-con, so warning all of you already at the beginning. BFH, very degenerate, unedited, Third-person PoV (cause easier that way), sex slave!Julie, sex slave!Natty, sex slave!Belle, sex slave!Haneul, sex slave!Kiss of Life, sexual slavery, sexual exploitation, contract manipulation, clothing control, slapping, punching, kicking, spitting, deflowering, anal deflowering, painal, dry vaginal sex, facefucking, cum on food, frozen dildos, I think that's all or most of it but you get the point

A/N: 1. First of all, thank you to @fillinforlater for the fic idea. Idk what the fuck happened, at first I was following the plot he laid out, then I changed this part, then I added this part, then this, then that, and I blink and all of a sudden I have this monstrosity of a fic 2. Fic has nothing to do with the song, just thought it would fit as a title 3. If anyone asks, for this fic I "changed the timeline" of KIOF's pre-debut stuff to essentially fit in June 2023, cause y'know, Haneul. 4. Part 1 cause Smite's prompt had a second part that I also want to write but it's gotten so long I decided to split the fic into two? parts.

It’s finally happened, she’s finally done it! After years of hardships and struggles Natty has finally achieved her goal of being in a K-pop girl group, the dream she once thought to be impossible now becoming a reality as she takes the pen and puts her signature down on the contract with tears filling her eyes. Some might call her crazy or an overreactor for bawling out but for someone who has gotten eliminated in the finals of not one but two survival shows, tears of joy sound like a reasonable reaction. 

Although Natty has already spent nearly a decade training, she is still looking forward to training more with her new groupmates. Even if it might take a decade more, as long as her dream comes alive, to her it’s all worth it. 

Natty expected to be surprised on her first day but she wasn’t ready to face what was in store for her. Having been a trainee for almost half her life, there’s no doubt that Natty has heard rumors about the industry, the drastic measures required to stay in form, the horrible things that happen away from prying eyes, the exploitation, the harassment. Though to her, they were all just rumors, just silly little things that people made up, little did she know that the rumors were just a teaser of what’s to come.

Natty goes through the front doors but instead of the vibrant and cheerful place she visited not long ago, the company now has a faint and eerie atmosphere. Lights are off, not a sign of any person in the immediate vicinity, it’s like the place never was alive to begin with. “Maybe I just came in at a wrong time,” she thinks as she navigates her way to her destination. Natty ascends to the fifth floor and as she makes it there, she hears subtle heavy breathing echoing along the halls. She decides not to get too curious and instead looks for the meeting place.

Natty stands just outside the door with a large smile prepared on her face, “This is it,” she tells herself as she gets ready to meet her new sisters. Her jolly expression quickly fades as she breaches the door, sitting inside are two of her three new groupmates. While very excited to finally meet them for the first time, what catches her attention the most are their outfits—both of them revealing way too much skin, a stark contrast to the jacket and jeans she has on. One of them is wearing booty shorts and a crop top cut short enough to barely cover her nipples and Natty notices that she doesn’t seem to have a bra underneath it. And all she can see on the other is a large red shirt barely making its way past her hips. 

Natty forces back a smile, trying to regain the excitement she previously had. There’s just four seats in the middle of the room all facing each other and Natty takes one of the two empty ones. It was awkward at first but the tension slowly dissipated as the three began talking, though a sense of eeriness still lingers behind. They start off introducing themselves to each other and Natty quickly learns that it’s Haneul who is wearing the crop top and Belle is the one wearing the red shirt. Once they got the awkward introductions out of the way, they proceeded to talk about random things. They start to talk about their lives now, their lives as trainees in previous companies, how the two knew of Natty in her time in survival shows. Although, every time Natty would try to talk about their outfits, they would pause and take a deep breath but then they would either play it off as if it was a normal thing or just change the subject entirely.

With no obstructions between them, Natty can’t help but notice some details with their apparent choices of clothing. Natty doesn’t know if she’s just imagining it but when she looks at Haneul’s crop top, she swears she can see a hint of darkness which she can only guess to be are areolas. Then there’s Belle who is sitting in the chair across from her, her short red shirt hikes even higher up her body while she sits down and Natty can see, clear as day, Belle’s pussy just hanging in the breeze. Natty tries to ask her about it but Belle just looks at her as if she was a crazy person.

Eventually the last member arrives, Natty somewhat expected her to also be similarly dressed which she is but the state she came into the room in was what shocked her the most. The last member arrives wearing a yellow sundress though from the looks of it, it might be a size or two too small. As she stands there trying to introduce herself to Natty, she keeps on adjusting her dress, struggling between pulling it over her chest or pulling it below her hips. But her attire is the least alarming part, her hair is all frizzled, her lipstick is smeared, and there’s drops of liquid dripping from between her legs. Natty forces another smile as all four of them start to talk together. The mystery girl introduces herself as Julie, their new leader. Julie takes the remaining seat and, similar to Belle, her dress hikes up, even higher compared to Belle’s shirt, and Julie’s pussy is visible to everyone. No one comments on it but Natty quickly sees that a pool of white is forming between Julie’s legs and it seems to come from her pussy and her butt.

Natty was right in that her first day would be full of surprises, though she did not expect to be such horrible and gut wrenching surprises. On her way home, she starts to recall the rumors she has heard over the years and after thinking back to what she saw earlier, they’re starting to become less like rumors and more like the harsh reality of the industry. But Natty brushes the thoughts aside, thinking to herself that her dream of being part of a K-pop group is being fulfilled and if it means even worse and troubling obstacles, then she will just overcome them too. She has had years of training, what’s a questionable dress code compared to that?

The next day arrives and Natty tries to remain optimistic, wearing another bright smile as she enters the practice room, though just like the day before it quickly drops. There’s a fifth person joining them that day and Natty can only assume he’s their choreographer only except he’s wearing nothing but shorts. While his toned body is in no doubt hot and amazing, given the situation and the very very prominent tent he’s sporting, Natty is deeply disturbed.

She says hi to him and then at her group mates who she has just noticed are still wearing the same outfits as the day before albeit with some slight changes—Haneul’s isn’t even covering her chest anymore, just dangling like a necklace above her shoulders; Belle’s red shirt has streaks of white all over the front; and Julie’s dress has a rip at the top as if her breasts were breaking free. Natty couldn’t even find the time to feel sorry for them as the man starts to talk to her as she comes in. “Hey, you’re the new girl right? What are you wearing?”

Natty stands frozen in place. She hasn’t gotten any sort of instructions or clothing to wear. Has she missed something? 

The man carries some papers over to her. “Did you not read this?” Natty recognizes the papers he’s holding, it’s the contract she signed. He flips through the pages and gives it to her, “See? Right here.” He points at the clause labeled “Attire” and Natty reads through the fine print. “In the company, the members should wear what is given to them or any clothing that they have. Provided that their tops have sleeves not longer than 10 cm and bottoms not longer than 20 cm.” With just her luck, she’s wearing a sweater and jeans that day. Natty couldn’t believe this, she remembers reading every detail of the contract but not once has she seen this. Natty continues to read the page and the next clause is labeled “Sex.” It reads, “The members cannot object to their bodies being touched or used by the employees of S2 Entertainment. The members must follow every order given to them, whether they are willing to do so or not. If the task is impossible to do, the members must accomplish it to the best of their ability. None of this can be mentioned to anyone outside of S2 Entertainment.” Natty could not believe her eyes, such inhuman clauses on her own contract. She hastily checks the last page and there sits her signature, bright as day. She looks at the others in disbelief but they can only stare right back at her with empty expressions.

The man grabs the papers back. “Well? The clothes we have are still in the laundry, so unless you have spare clothes with you or something, the only solution is to undress.” Natty looks at the others again for help but they just shake their heads and Julie mouths “Sorry” to her. “Are you going to do something about it or do you want me to take care of it?” Driven by fear of getting manhandled, Natty turns around and rushes to take her clothes off. Even with her back to everyone, she can feel the stares stabbing into her back. She feels so sick and dirty as she takes her sweater off and as she shimmies her pants off of her hips, she doesn’t realize she was involuntarily shaking her ass for everyone not until the man squeezes her butt.

Natty shivers in the cold room but it pales in comparison to being just in her underwear. Though it’s just the choreographer she has to be worried about, the lustful stare he gives her is enough to make her cry. Julie tries to console Natty but not a second later Natty hears a slap echo in the room, she looks up to see the choreographer in front of Julie who’s holding the side of her face.

The rest of the day goes pretty ok given the circumstances, mostly just going over the song and the choreography that went along with it, though their instructor occasionally helped himself to cop a feel while teaching and he seemed to be most interested in Natty, always focusing on her mistakes, groping and feeling every inch of her body as he “teaches” the dance.

The next day, Natty moves into the group’s dorm. “This time, it will be better,” she tells herself, maintaining that bright and optimistic perspective on life. She hopes that in the dorm it will be much funner and freeing, just her and her group mates living together and hanging out all the time. 

She opens the door and peers inside, to her surprise it’s really clean and quiet. Although she’s been very optimistic about things, deep down she was expecting similar horrors to what she has seen the previous days and seeing such a pristine and spacious living space is enough of a relief for her. After bringing her things through the door, Natty explores the place. In the living room there’s a huge flatscreen TV and a couch big enough to fit more than four people, and in the kitchen there’s lots of space available and a big fridge. Natty checks the fridge and salivates seeing lots of veggies and drinks inside, then she checks the freezer and almost falls to her knees from hunger seeing all the meat. Natty was about to slam the door shut when she notices a red dildo slightly hidden in one of the layers, she gives it a touch and confirms that it is ice cold. She blushes slightly, thinking that one of her group mates is kinky like that.

Natty hops over to the rooms, excited to see what those are like after seeing how extravagant the common areas are. She first checks on the room to the right, as she goes in she’s met with a very odd-looking room, half is very bland and empty while the other half is very decorated. “This must be my side,” she whispers while looking at the empty space. Over in the decorated half she sees Haneul fast asleep in her bed, seeing her wearing pajamas and not some skimpy outfit brings a smile to her face.

Natty closes the door gently as she makes her way to the next room. She barges through the door and immediately regrets it, the dorm which she expected to be their “safe space” away from the shit they have to go through at the company, turns out to just be an elegant looking prison. Natty was so happy about the place but unfortunately, it was too good to be true.

Natty sees three people all in one bed. Nearest to her is Belle, lying on her back and sobbing into her hands while a red dildo is shoved in her ass. Next to her is Julie and some man relentlessly pounding into her from behind. Only the man reacts to Natty’s arrival, looking over his shoulder to smile at Natty, it’s a different man, one Natty hasn’t met before. “Hi, Natty… I’m your… manager… Will you be a good girl and… pull that out of Belle?”

Natty should feel offended by such a crude question but after a week of “training,” she’s gotten to know better. Disgusted and disturbed yet Natty still drags her feet across the floor towards the three of them. “Just pull it out but do it slowly, don’t want to hurt her… even more,” he quickly adds the last part, chuckling as he does so, clearly enjoying himself at the expense of Julie’s and Belle’s pain. 

Natty glances at Belle, her face hidden in her hands, her body red and blue all over, her ass adorned with a bright red toy. She touches the base and immediately recalls her hand, it’s cold, ice cold. Natty considers herself a fool for even thinking for a moment that the freezer dildo was a kink thing, perhaps it might, but not for the person she thought it to be.

Belle’s quiet sobs turn to whines as Natty starts pulling the dildo out, the sound alone is enough to bring tears to Natty’s eyes, knowing that even though she’s helping, she’s still causing some pain. Natty continues to pull but at her slow pace it feels like it would take forever, she doesn’t even know how long the dildo is and as more inches get pulled out, the more worried she gets knowing how far it was in Belle and how much it could have hurt. 

Finally she pulls the thing out which calms Belle, her asshole closes back up, her body relaxes, and her cries die down. Natty looks at the dildo in her hand, the thing is almost as long as her forearm, she quickly throws it away and out of her sight.

Their manager turns to see that Natty has done what he requested, he gives Belle a slap on the ass and then Natty a pat on the head. “Oh nice… you’re a good girl... Natty… So here’s… your reward…” Before Natty could process anything he said or did, she feels her hair being yanked and her face quickly diving towards the bed. He makes her face to the side and starts to paint Natty in his cum. She hasn’t felt cum yet, let alone seen a dick in person, but the warmth and stench it leaves is enough for her to hate it.

“Wake Haneul up and have her clean you up, or you could just drink it all yourself, I wouldn’t mind. Just make sure to record, ok? When you’re done, Natty, meet me in my room, it’s at the end of the hall.”

And just like that he leaves, satisfied and so full of himself, while the three girls lay exhausted and broken.

Julie is the first one to recover among the three of them. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll go get Haneul, he hates waiting too long.” Before Julie can step away, Natty grabs her wrist. “N-No! I’ll do it. I’ll… try to do it.”

“You sure? Alright then. My advice is just do it quickly. Hwaiting.” Julie flashes a weak smile and raises her fist for encouragement and Natty reciprocates the action. 

Julie takes her phone and starts recording. Natty sits at the edge of the bed with Belle just slightly out of the shot. Natty scoops up all the cum on the side of her face, just doing so disgusts her immensely. With most of the white liquid in her palm, she puts everything in her mouth and gulps it all down. For a second all is well but the aftertaste hits her like a truck and she starts coughing again and again. She expected to hate it but it was beyond awful. Only when Natty calms down does Julie stop recording.

“Go to his room, it’s on the left. I’ll just put this back in the freezer,” says Julie as she picks up the dildo from the floor.

“He hates waiting.” Natty repeats, with no time to rest, she gets to her feet and moves to the manager’s room. Natty’s hand reaches for the doorknob but she stops herself before she can even touch it. This time around she opts to knock instead of just barging in. “Come in,” says the voice from the other side. Natty enters the room, it looks much bigger and more grand than the other rooms, a bigger bed, a TV, a mini-fridge, it was practically its own apartment. “So nice of you to knock, you’re still dressed but that’s an easy fix.” 

She notices him ruffling through some stuff in his drawer, she tries to take a peek but he closes it before she can see what was inside. In his hands are a remote and a collar with her name on it. “We just met a few minutes ago but I think you’re my favorite already.” He puts the collar on her, tightening it so it fits exactly around her neck. “Whenever you’re here at the dorm, you have to wear this, ok? And everytime I press this button.” He raises the remote and clicks it, sending a small stinging sensation to Natty’s neck. “You have to come to me. It’s only at one right now but if you’re not here within five minutes of me clicking it, it goes up by one, permanently.” Natty gulps but with the collar snug around her neck, it made it a little uncomfortable. 

“Ok so where’s the video?”

“Ah, Ju-”

As her name is mentioned, Julie barges into the room, phone outstretched with the video ready to play.

“Ah, there it is. Thank you, Julie.” Julie hands her phone over and stands in place, like a robot waiting for her next command. “Aww, look at Belle sleeping so peacefully. Oh wonderful, drinking it all by yourself. See, I knew you would be my favorite.” He hands the phone back to Julie and she starts to leave but before she makes it out he issues one final order for her. “Julie, be a dear and get Haneul. She’s been sleeping all day, I haven’t had my fun with her yet. Actually, you know what? Now that Natty’s here, just get everyone.”

With just the two of them left in the room, he walks over to Natty. Seeing his erect dick twitching so much causes her to involuntarily step backwards and his brows suddenly furrow. “Now, now, Natty.” The sudden change in his tone and expression is enough to strike fear in her heart, afraid of a punishment she puts her foot back to its original spot causing his smile to return. 

“Sweaters. Always so annoying, I heard you’re huge but I can’t really tell with that stupid thing hiding your tits. From now on in the dorm, Natty, only wear tight tops. Oh, better yet, no tops at all. The only thing I want to see you wearing above your hips is that collar.” 

Instantly Natty’s hands start to move, getting rid of any clothing on her torso as soon as the new rule is implemented. She can see it in his eyes, hunger ever growing with each article of clothing she removes. As soon as her shirt comes off, he starts salivating. “My, oh my, you’re huge. Looks like Julie’s got competition.” Natty reaches behind herself to unhook her bra but pauses for a moment, she realizes this is the first time she would show her breasts to anyone, many have touched and played with them at the company but not one has unveiled her boobs. As her bra falls, his dick twitches in excitement. 

The rest of the group arrives. Belle is the first to enter, her legs very tired and her ass still very sore. Next comes Haneul, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Last is Julie, her head held high and her face serious, looking like a guard rounding up the inmates although she isn’t any less of a prisoner compared to the other girls in the room. The four just stand in silence like mannequins and their manager walks around and gropes whatever he pleases as if doing some inspection. 

“Haneul… what did we say?” says the manager very disappointedly. His tone shocks her awake, “I-I’m sorry,” she bows then starts getting out of her clothes. He scoots over to her and slaps her in the face. “I’ll let you off easy this time since Natty’s finally here but I’m doubling the next punishment.”

After Haneul, he moves over to Belle, whose legs are barely keeping her standing. “You cross me again, I’ll make sure you won’t even be able to walk for the rest of the day.” He punches Belle and she easily drops to the ground sobbing, he kicks her while she’s down to add insult to injury. Natty can only shiver upon hearing everything happen behind her, does she even want to know what Belle did to make him so mad?

He moves over to Julie and the first thing he does is spit on her face then he uses his fingers to smear it all over. Julie keeps her composure, just closing her eyes as he plays with her face, not flinching or whining at all. “You should thank Natty for being here, ‘cause you’ll finally have some time to rest.” His hands cup her breasts, giving them a proper feel before he moves on to a bigger and better pair. 

Finally he comes back around to Natty, the only person in the room with any piece of clothing still on. “Tell me, Natty… Have you fucked before?” Natty gulps again knowing the implications, though it was bound to happen eventually. She shakes her head and he smiles. “Oh, a virgin? So many people in that building and not one has fucked you? Well their loss, we’re gonna have so much fun together.”

“Change of plans girls, looks like I need some ‘catching up’ to do with Natty. Go do whatever you want for now, we’ll be here for a full day or two.” 

But just before he dismisses them, he goes back to Belle, still on the ground holding her side. He spits on her face too but this time he uses his foot to smear her face. “Don’t think I’m done with you just yet. Be ready for your final ‘lesson’ when I’m done with Natty. Now go, all three of you, leave.”

It’s wicked really, how sick and twisted all of this is, all the expectations Natty had, completely flipped around. Shining eyes looking up to her turns out to be lustful stares looking down, helping hands turn out to be forceful gropes, and managers turn out to be owners. Natty looks over her shoulder with tears starting to form in her eyes, though her hands remain still, her stare acts like a hand reaching out to save her from the depths of hell but alas, all Haneul and Julie could do is return similar sad gestures as they carry Belle away.

The manager locks the door as the three leave and immediately gets back to Natty, even with all the time in the world at his disposal, he wouldn’t want to waste a single second. With the rest of the group gone, Natty feels even more miniscule and useless, even more of a toy as his gaze is solely on her. He comes up behind her and fills his hands with her tits, with Julie’s he can still grasp the whole thing in his hands but Natty’s can barely be fully contained. He starts to fondle and play with her nipples while slowly moving his mouth closer to her neck.

Natty easily starts to moan loudly, she wants to keep quiet to avoid giving him that pleasure but her complete lack of experience and the resulting lack of tolerance betrays her. He sniffs along her neck, “You smell so good and your tits… so fucking soft.” He finds a patch of skin along the front of her neck and starts to kiss and suckle on it, Natty explodes into a moaning mess, shouting in pleasure as if she’s having the time of her life.

The pleasure gets cut short as his hands move down to her waist. “Sweatpants… another cock blocker. From now on, just don’t wear anything, Natty. Your body is so hot and irresistible, wouldn’t want any clothes hiding your beauty. Don’t worry about getting cold, just come to me and you’ll be warmed up in no time.” His fingers slip into the waistbands and he slides both her underwear and her sweatpants down to the ground. He’s the first one to see her tits and now he’s also the first one to see her bare ass and pussy. As much as she doesn't want to think about it, he probably will be the first dick she takes in every hole.

The manager circles Natty slack-jawed and wide-eyed as if admiring a sculpture he has just made. “Fat ass, soft and heavy tits, pretty face. You’re just the perfect little toy, aren’t you? And a virgin too, just the absolute best, if I could I would just own you forever but sadly I’ve got a job to do. Although… maybe I can have you be my roommate instead of Haneul’s, that’s probably the closest I’ll get.” He leans down and frowns at what he sees. “Unshaved, unfortunate, guess you can’t have absolutely everything but it’ll do. First thing I want you to do when you’re out of this room is get that shaved, got it?” Natty’s been unmoving and frozen in place for so long that it takes her a second before nodding her head.

The manager pushes Natty onto the bed then flips her to face him. Her full body is on display for him, each delicacy just sitting idle like food in a buffet, up for grabs at any time. He licks his lips as he considers his options. 

“Two virgin holes, which to try first? The other three bitches came here already used, so this will be a first for you and me.” He slaps his dick against her pussy, grinding on it and feeling the slight hint of wetness it’s giving off. Next he considers her asshole, very puckered and looking very small compared to the head of his cock as he pokes her with it. He licks a finger and prods inside, the way his finger barely pushes through excites him and the way Natty winces seals the deal for him. 

He lifts Natty’s legs up and hooks them over his shoulders, giving him a perfect angle to ravage her ass. He lines himself up and slowly pushes his way in, not even bothering to spread her cheeks to mitigate the tightness. Natty is already breathing heavily as she feels her asshole stretching to accommodate him. “Please,” she begs. “It… It won’t fit.”

He just smiles and caresses her cheek. “That’s the fun part, a tiny virgin asshole broken open by my cock. I’m gonna remember this forever.”

As soon as Natty’s sphincter spreads wide enough for his girth, he shoves the whole thing inside. “AHHHH!!! TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT!” Natty fires a blood-curdling scream as his cock swiftly overwhelms her. It hurt for him too given how dry her butt is but only barely, plus her cries only work to alleviate him. 

He locks her legs in his arms and her hips in his hands to keep her from moving. Her hands might be free but Natty doesn’t have the strength or the courage to lift them up. Her ass feels like it’s on fire from the dry friction between the two of them. To her, it’s like hell. To him, the fire feels like an invigorating force. 

Her anal walls hug him so tightly, it’s like Natty’s ass is begging him to fill her up and who is he to turn down such a request. Her ass is so tight, it’s practically milking him dry, any tighter and he might not be able to pull out. In just a few minutes he starts to orgasm, the hardest and fastest one he’s had with any of the four girls. He pulls out and scrambles to find his phone, wanting to cherish this moment forever. “Second load of cum and many more to go. You’re gonna be such a wonderful cum bucket, Natty, milking me everyday. You’re going to love my cum and my dick in no time.”

Natty tries to stand, to do something, anything, but her body is just worn out already, completely exhausted, completely given up. The manager, on the other hand, is the exact opposite, even after tearing Natty’s asshole apart, he’s still hard and ready for another round. This time he has his eyes set on her cherished virginity. 

He hooks her legs back onto his shoulders but this time he carries her then pins her to the wall with her wrists bound by his hand above her head. While flexibility isn’t a problem for Natty, she is now face to face with her assaulter. She closes her eyes and looks away but that doesn’t stop her from feeling his hot breath on her face. His tongue pokes out and licks along her cheek, tasting her tears and her sweat, he leaves a trail of his saliva as he travels from her jaw to her ear. “So salty, so delicious. Everything about you is so delicious, you know that? Now I’m gonna enjoy fucking your pussy, I’m gonna see just how tight you fucking are.”

Tears fall nonstop from her eyes. Natty’s sobbing grows strong as she feels his heat pressing against hers. She so badly wants to beg him to stop, to let her rest, but her voice can’t manage to form words and she knows he wouldn’t listen anyway. 

He lines himself up with her folds and in one swift motion, he pistons his cock inside. “AHHHH!!! FUCK! PLEASE!!!” her voice only manages to come back during moments of intense pain. “Oh, Natty, your cunt. Fuuuuuuck, that’s the best pussy ever.” Her pussy is heavenly, it’s so tight that it’s almost orgasmic when he penetrates her. He just loves the way Natty squeezes around him. He also loves hearing her cry out in pain, to him it’s like a choir of angels. He relishes in the feeling of Natty’s pussy, living in his own twisted version of heaven.

As he pounds into her from below, Natty’s tits bounce freely in front of him and he doesn’t waste a second as his mouth latches onto her chest, after all, a little side dish won’t hurt while he enjoys the main meal. He bites her nipples, pulling and squeezing them with his teeth, only adding more pain to what Natty is already experiencing.

The two of them fucked endlessly in that locked room while the other three finally got some rest, though they couldn’t quite live in blissful harmony as Natty’s screaming kept them aware of their situation, the walls were thin enough to let Natty’s wails of terror flood the whole dorm. While the other three girls were able to sleep through it, in the morning they still heard Natty screaming and begging, though her voice much weaker and hoarser. 

There’s just so much to do with Natty, just pure lust and adrenaline fueling the manager all throughout the night. All the positions he could take her in, all the things he can do, all the possibilities, everything that Natty’s body can offer, he takes. He fucked her all over the room, didn’t even matter how or where, he just slams her down somewhere and fucks her in whatever hole he felt fit. He fucked her face against the wall, then fucked her ass while he pressed her face onto the floor, then fucked her pussy while missionary on the floor, then fucked her ass doggystyle on the bed, then fucked her face while her head hung off the bed, then fucked her ass in the shower. Just so much cum in and on her body in the span of a couple of hours and yet he is still going strong.

The next day comes around and there doesn’t seem to be any lapse in their action. Stretching from before the rise of the sun all the way to after it set, just endless screaming of pure pain and agony coming from Natty. The only time the manager interacted with the rest of the girls was when he asked Julie to cook up a meal for them. The door finally opened again for the first time in two days as Julie brought her cooking.

“Ah, pork belly, I’m starving. Thank you so much, Julie. I see you’ve gotten comfortable without me pestering you all the time,” he says as he sees Julie wearing some pajamas. “Oh, two plates? We won’t be needing that,” he chuckles as he returns the second set of utensils as well. Just before the door closes, Julie takes a peek over his shoulder and sees Natty practically lifeless on the floor. The manager gives Julie a quick smile, proud of his own work, then locks the door.

The manager walks over to the bed and nudges Natty with his foot before getting himself comfortable. Natty, almost void of all energy, springs to life as she smells the delicious food. Natty sits patiently, silently jealous as she stares at her manager eating all by himself. He points to his dick and Natty can only sigh as she lowers her face in front of it. 

The manager puts his hand on the back of her head and Natty opens her mouth, but instead of pushing down he says, “Let’s play a game, Natty. If you make me cum before I finish the food, you can have the rest of it.”

Natty doesn’t exactly have much knowledge on how to pleasure a dick, her only experience being the one dick that’s been forced in her body the past two days. She’s already come to terms with the fact that she might not eat for two days straight but regardless she tries her best. 

Natty employs the small pieces of advice she’s heard him tell her. Even though she’s basically just moving her head along his length, judging from his moans he seems to be enjoying it so she goes faster. 

“Fuck, Natty. Fuck… I’m gonna cum…” He takes over this time, gripping the back of her head as she immediately chokes. “Don’t… swallow it, fuck.” He struggles to squeeze his words out of his mouth as another orgasm makes its way into Natty’s mouth, only this time around it pools on her tongue. She already hates cum to begin with, cringing inside whenever she would taste it but with a whole load lingering in her mouth, revolting is an understatement. She struggles to hold it all in, not just because of the taste but also because of how much he gave her, her cheeks are full and just a little more it would probably overflow. 

He holds the plate of what’s about a quarter of the total meat still left on it. “Spit,” he commands and without hesitation she opens her mouth and deposits the batch onto the plate. “Go on, everything, spit into it.” She does as ordered, mixing the remnants with saliva and spitting onto the food. He spits onto the plate as well and mixes the meat with the “sauce” then puts it on the other side of the bed from her. “Go eat.”

Natty tries to get up and walk to the other side but the manager has other plans. He grabs her hair again and pulls her across the bed, forcing her to kneel down. “Come on, eat up.” He moves over behind her and lines up with her pussy. “Don’t waste anything, when you’re done I want that plate clean.” Natty stares at the disgusting abomination in front of her and she feels even more disgusted and degraded knowing that even when it comes to food she’s being treated like a dog. Her stomach gurgles, no matter how disgusting the food may be, she still has to eat. Natty tries to look at the brighter side of things, at the very least she’s eating actual food and not some slop that looks inedible. 

On the third day of her imprisonment, Natty is completely exhausted and broken. She just lies on her back, barely even reacting to anything her manager does anymore, there’s cum on almost every inch of her body and yet she doesn’t bother to clean it. 

Julie knocks to bring them breakfast, the manager gets the door but instead of just taking the food he tells Julie to give it to Natty. “She’s not fun anymore so I’ll be going back to you guys. And besides, the company is looking for her, can’t have her here forever.” As soon as the manager leaves, Julie rushes over to Natty and tends to her. 

The manager, clearly unsatisfied with Natty’s unresponsiveness and clearly needing a release, turns to Belle for release.

“AHHH!!! Wait, no, please… I’m sorry.” He barges into her room and she immediately shrieks upon seeing him. In the short span of two days, she’s gotten used to not being around him but here he is to remind her of her place. “I promise I won’t do it again, I—” She tries to get away but she’s stuck in the corner and all she can do is sink herself further into it. He doesn’t stop or even think for a second about what he’s doing, he just walks up and punches her face, adding another bruise to the multiple he’s given her. 

“Haneul? Get in here!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. While waiting, he pulls Belle’s face to the edge of the bed and starts facefucking her, all the while alternating between slapping her tits and punching her pussy. 

“Haneul?!” he calls again after a few minutes. After cumming down Belle’s throat and Haneul still hasn’t arrived, he marches over to her room. Not really to his surprise, he finds Haneul sleeping soundly in her bed. For one second he smiles, admiring her beauty before proceeding to ruin it. 

He punches her which brings her wide awake. He tugs her hair to bring her face close to his. “Always sleeping, you lazy cunt. Maybe you need a lesson too.” Haneul screams and thrashes as she’s dragged across the floor by her hair towards Belle’s room.

The next few days and weeks go by with the members somewhat getting used to and coping with the treatment that they are going through. Lots of practicing and “training” happens at the company, mostly the latter, then their manager has fun with them at the dorm. At the very least their manager is kind, all things considered, just as long as they follow his orders, so they still get to somewhat relax at the dorm. And whenever no one is using their bodies, the girls hang out, talk with each other, and comfort each other, growing a bond and giving each other hope to carry on until they debut.

The month ends and it’s finally time for Kiss of Life to debut. The four are no doubt incredibly excited, they finally get to wear clothes that cover most of their body, finally have some time away from the perverts, and most of all, they finally get to debut and live out their dreams of being K-pop idols, though little do they know what their company still has in store for them, even in public view.

A/N 2: So if you made it here, congratulations, you're as much of a degenerate as I am :). Anyway, while part 1 is mostly focused on Natty, part 2 would likely be four "mini-fics" in one, each focusing on one member. Subject to change but most likely it would be like that

[adoregojo]

✘ unrequited love

summary: loves echoes through the darkness, yet there's no light to erase it.

or

↝ they like you, you don't seem to share the bits of it.

context: unrequited love, angst no comfort, !!gn reader!!, angst and also angst, mention of blood, character: isagi, bachira, nagi, rin.

Isagi.y

he felt his heart break a bit, didn't shatter. just a little crack that made him lose his breathing track for a second.

he has to take a step back from you, to 'comprehend’ it, and by that he means living his ordinary road, just with a new layer of wretchedness. He really tried going on his old ways, yet his attempts were futile. He wouldn't utter a tune on breakfast with his family, his friends would ask him why he stuck to the mud all of a sudden, he would woolgather like there was a castle in the sky, in class, in practice to the locker room.

he would walk back home, stare at the mirror, and surveyed his features. fingers crossed his face, did he perhaps not fit the standards? more importantly, your standards? he does realize that he wasn't that much of an eye candy, but he definitely wasn't an eyesore either. did he look too basic? he’ve always been told that by his teammates一yet you always told him that they're just jealous that they don't carry the most splendid, navy blue pairs of eyes around really一god, he really missed you.

he tried, he really did try to connect the puzzle, solve it to get the idea out of your mind. laying in bed with his hands behind his head, his ceiling seems to be the most interesting thing to ever exist. Was he not your ideal type? you always told him that as long as heart remains genial, it’d be good enough. did his heart come out as ruthless? well, it's not like his behavior on the field is helping.

it took him a good long days to get it, this was not a game he could fathom in a blink, this was you. he can't change what you think of him, he can't force you to see him as the almighty devotion defines that he sees you as, he can't make you love him, as much as he wishes and prays to. for once, this isn't something that his ego could grasp on, even for his sake.

he asks you to be friends again, if you were kind enough to agree, he'd be willing to get on his knees, thanking what you had left of sympathy for him. even if life never came back like it used to, as long as you're by his side, it's not the end of the world just yet.

isagi could just wish, you’d somehow discern a new corner in your heart that’ll behold as a sense of love for him, for what he had of selfishness clinging onto him, for what he had of undying love for you.

Bachira.m

he really, lived and witnessed the world ending through his eyes and mostly his heart.

to put it mildly, bachira have always been out of place. to other people, he didn't seem to reach out of his weird spot he somehow earned. you were nice though, the nicest person he had ever met, you were his special place, and the safest of all. his favorite flower and the references to cross his brush over the pearly white papers. and with all the cheesiest in the world一his universe.

it was an unyielding thing to not catch feelings for you, his ever first friend that didn't feel ashamed when hearing his name beside yours, till he found himself wanting more than just that title, for you to be his better half sounded like a paradise blessing pouring on him.

there would be dreams where he'd finally get to press his lips against yours, it's too good to be true, the warmth and the dizziness, the sweet flavor against his lips was making his mind melt to a pool, made him heat up like he was standing above a low steam stone, he wanted more, till he'd fell unconscious in your arms from the lack of air, never ever wanting it to come to an end, yet I'll eventually burn to ashes.

he never hated you, he could never. even when you uttered the words of rejection that came like a keen pain right up his chest. it hurts, more than any punch, kick or insult he'd receive. his wheel of life seemed to diminish, and his eyes began to water.

a part of him knew this was coming, even when you became something of him, there will always be a sound whispering how inadequate he'll remain, no matter how he tries.

but hey, it's bachira. the same guy that’ll always look at the brightest side. above all, it's still love, yeah? even if you didn't return it, he was grateful that he somehow got to experience it, to pick raw flowers from the backyard with the biggest, lovesick smile glued to his face. to wake up everyday just to see you again was enough reason to leap off the bed. he was glad to say he for once, had a crush, coating the fact that his feelings got smashed to a wall. he was glad to feel any sense of true love.

your existence alone in his world was the definition of bliss, maybe he was sad because he wasn't in yours.

after all, you loving him back was too good to be true. being your friend should be an honor itself, he’ll keep on telling that to himself, till he finds the right extinguisher for the fire you lit up his heart.

Nagi. S

“sei.. I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way.”

“oh.” it was light, a tune of realization. In an instant, his eyes are empty again, the world blends to a hue of gray he knows the most, and suddenly sinking into a dreamless slumber for a whole day sounded like a brilliant idea.

“okay.” that's it, that's all he had to say before he's.. him again. he was nagi again, not the seishirou that fell smitten and starstruck, the one you made with your bare hands, the better version一the happiest version of himself.

he doesn't get a grasp on why he felt nothing at that moment, but at the same time he felt everything一it almost felt like he had an organ failure, but also his heart rate draw at halt. it was hard to put it on words一but what he knew, he definitely never, ever wants to experience anything like that again.

for the longest time, nagi always lends to your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, it's been like this for the longest time. you and him, perhaps against the world一but really, it was more like you against the world while he immerse in your shadow.

he didn't mind. your light has always been overcasting. your smile was radiant, with your eyes aglow, he couldn't help but feel small. he was nothing against the brightest star to ablaze at him, and for the countless nights, he'd wondered一why him? nagi didn't exactly embrace the fact he was a slacker, he just tended to let it be this way, it was too much of a hassle to correct it一or maybe it was a truth that cannot be denied, who knows.

it was mostly his fault, for getting too used to you, for leaning on you like his own wheel of life. but he didn't want to let you go, it would be a pain一he was selfish after all.

nagi would slim down on your shoulder, he can feel your slightest tenseness. you were always comfortable, so comfortable that he could just be one with you.

“do you like me back yet?” he would ask, you say nothing. he’d inhale a soft sigh, snuggling onto you even more till his snowy locks kept on tickling the skin of your neck.

“that's okay, I'll stay here until you like me back.”

you again say nothing, but you’ll let him hold your hand, meshing your palms together. maybe he'll let go when his heart stops skipping a beat for you, or when the world comes to crumble, but they both end up with the same fate anyway, so it didn't really matter.

Rin.i

he knew he'll at some point regret this. wanting you of all people was a sin, a forbidden love.

despite his ears ringing, and his heart dropping to his core. he saw it coming, he would mutter that he'd be ready for it, just for it to sting like a sore thumb. it felt like he was collapsing on the ground with a pool of blood and tears, and all you’d do is watch with pity.

he felt bare, naked and exposed, he wanted to hide. he felt rejected and small. Suddenly he was fifteen again, pleading for his big brother to not leave him to rot in the cold, to not let the snow be the only source of comfort he had instead of a warm embrace.

for once, he had felt his heart swell with adoration一for a second, he didn't even have a name for that feeling, was was genuinely confident that you were making him somehow ill, there had to be a medical explanation for the mini heart attack he suffered from whenever he witnessed you at elation.

he allowed it to happen, he should've pushed you away more, he should've stood up his ground, he should've made more effort to strengthen his walls that you decayed with ease.

but what was there to wonder about the ‘what if's’ and the ‘maybe's’ yet again here he was, playing a secondary role in the ones he loved the most once again. digging his own grave stupidly.

for the first time in forever, he didn't feel like it was a challenge to love him, he didn't have to look at his reflection and grimace, he didn't have to be muddled by the name ‘itoshi sae’ this time, he was rin一your rin, was it bad that he wanted to live by that? it felt right to.

he knew he wasn't perfect, maybe even his flaws swamped over what he had of strengths. yet you seemed to admire him through it all, you looked at him like he was something一someone, he wanted to be that someone to you.

you managed to make everything look soft, feel warm. you stained his world with colors he thought he forgot the hues of it, he thinks he likes you a little too much.

for the longest time, rin was afraid he'll eat the life out of you, just like the maggots adore the flesh. seems like he was worried about nothing, because he’ll never be what he ought to be一yours.

you probably hate him, he did exclaimed hurtful things, he saw your eyes narrowing into a pained expression, it ached more than any rejection. he didn't know why, he was overwhelmed, angry and blinded by rage一and like the predictable itoshi he was. he revealed his cuspids and went for the throat.

he just wanted to hurt you back, that's what felt right at that moment. and yet as soon as he saw shedding tears running down your cheeks, satisfaction never came across, all he felt was a deep-seated regret. he felt ugly, sour and mean. and most of all, cruel.

and when rin sinks to his bed, he curls himself to a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. did his heart die already? or was he just too numb to feel anything at the moment? all he can sense is tiredness, so he closes his eyes to nothingness. where he dreams about you, with him in the summer breeze and cheap popsicles, and nothing bad happened to you and him.

sounds like a nice dream.

[unintentionaloracle]

Ulterior Motives [Fic]

And now for something a little different! I got hit with a steel chair of inspiration while working on something else and now here we are.

Summary: A heated exchange about The Rock's proposition leads to Drew making Cody his own... spicier proposition. But it's just for mutual gain...right?

(Note: There's also mentions of past Candy (and suggested one-sided/unrequited current Candy))

Drew stormed after Cody as the latter went to his tour bus. He stopped him before he could enter, trapping him against its garishly ad-laden body with one arm. Looking at it almost answered Drew's question for him as he glared down at Cody:

“Are you seriously considering selling your damn soul to The Rock?”

Cody's blue eyes met Drew's own with defiance. “Like I said, it's not off the table, yet. I still need to think about it.”

“Still need to think about it!?” Drew parroted. “The Golden Boy’s really considering taking the easy way with his championship reign?” Drew poked Cody's title belt. “Whenever I wear the championship, I fight tooth and nail to defend it. You have to damn near kill me, play dirty, or both to pry it off me.”

“Really? Are you pissed about me potentially insulting the honor of the championship? Or are you pissed at the idea that if you win the Elimination Chamber, you'll have to deal with whatever being “The Rock's Champion” entails?”

Drew clenched his fists. The thought of being screwed over by Roman's extended family yet again, let alone when he got to the main event of WrestleMania, had crossed his mind. And yet, it wasn't the main thing bothering him.

“That isn't you, Cody. At least, not anymore. You're the man who fought hard to get to where you are. Now you want to do things the easy way!?”

“I AM TIRED, DREW!” Cody shouted. It made Drew almost shrink to Cody's height.

“I’ve had to deal with The Bloodline at every corner. Been tricked. Dealt with spoiled brats. Watched as people–my friends–suffered on my behalf to get and keep me where I am. Had a once dear friend betray and nearly kill me. And now? For the first time in a long time, I’m alone! Jey's got his own story to finish. Sami...hurts to think about. Seth is...well, he's Seth. And Randy...I don't know when he’ll be back. So forgive me if buckling to a higher power sounds tempting, Chosen One.”

Drew twitched at both his former moniker and the mention of Randy. Cody looked genuinely distressed after listing his woes. Something inside the Scotsman, something he long thought dormant, bubbled for the first time. Cody turned to try and leave, only for Drew to fully pin him to the wall. “Having The Rock's hand up your ass like his puppet sure as hell won't fix that. Things are hard? Then why not just quit again like last time?”

Drew could tell he pushed another button, and got his mind off his troubles. Cody, however, seemed ungrateful for the tough “love”. “Forgive me if I'm not eager to take career advice from the man well on his way to getting fired twice.” He sniped back.

Normally, a comment like that would get someone a one way ticket to Claymore Country. But when Cody did it here, away from prying eyes, it was almost fun. Being alone was also nostalgic, whether he wanted to admit it or not. It even gave him...ideas...

“Ya know, if you're so stressed and lonely, I have a better solution. Not that you'll ever let me...”

“Try me,” Cody bit back.

Drew smirked. Now it was fun. “Alright, but remember: you asked for this,” he said, chuckling in a low rumble. He cupped Cody's face, his palms fitting his cheekbones nicely, and gave him a kiss for the first time in a decade and a half. It was meant to be quick...

...were it not for Cody grabbing him as soon as he pulled away and sending his lips crashing back into his, trying to press himself to Drew as close as he could.

Damn, you really are wound up tight if just a kiss has you like this... Drew thought, a little amused and pleased with himself. Still, who was he to deny the poor man? He pressed Cody against the bus, reasserting control as his hands drifted to the back of Cody's neck and his hip. Drew escalated the kiss to a make out, enjoying a soft sigh from Cody before shutting up that oh-so-noble mouth of his.

It was a far cry from years ago, their short fling where they (mostly he) fumbled around like awkward teenagers when they held the tag titles. They were practically boys back then, compared to now. Drew pulled Cody's leg up to his hip, hand drifting down his thigh as he tried to send a message: Drew McIntyre was more than a man now, and one hell of a lover. Especially compared to the ex he'd been in the shadow of back then.

A thought crossed Drew's mind. He broke the kiss briefly, letting his hand drift back up Cody's thigh. “Is your pet Viper gonna throw a hissy fit when he finds out about me kissing his precious little Nightmare?” he purred.

Cody panted. “He shouldn't. Me and Randy are just friends now. It's not his concern.”

Could've fooled me, Drew thought, the way he looks at you.

“Good. I don't like sharing,” he said, about to dive back in. Cody stopped him with a hand to his face, lowering his leg.

“What's your game here, McIntyre? What's in it for you?” Cody said, raising an eyebrow.

Drew removed Cody's hand from his face and placed it on his chest, making Cody blush (despite Cody moving it from Drew's leather jacket to his bare chest on his own accord). His free hand rested against the side of the bus above Cody's head as the other went to Cody's waist.

“If you don't take Rock's deal, I'll be your stress toy. I'll screw all the tension right out of you on the regular,” he moved the hand above Cody and opted to hold Cody's chin, causing him to get that cute confused look on his face whenever anyone touched him affectionately. “I’ll take care of you. No soul required, and the people keep their champion. I might even get to prevent another Seth or Roman from happening, so it's better for everyone, really,”

He then leaned into Cody's ear. “Just give me one night to show you what you'd be getting, so you can “think about it”. What do you say, Champ?” He whispered, making Cody visibly shiver.

Cody said nothing at first, then pushed Drew away gently. He started to go for the bus door again, not looking at him. When he hit the steps, he spoke up. “Well?”

“Well what?” Drew asked.

Cody turned around, loosening his tie before unbuttoning his vest and shirt. “Are we doing this or what?” Cody said before pulling Drew towards him by his belt buckle.

Drew grinned wolfishly. He scooped up Cody and threw him over his shoulder, giving him a quick swat to the rear before entering the bus and closing the door behind them. He found Cody's bed and threw Cody down on it. The American Nightmare looked up at The Scottish Warrior with a mixture of annoyance and arousal.

Drew licked his lips at the gorgeous sight before climbing on top of him, eager to claim his prize and get to work.

---

When they finished, Cody was trembling, lying limp on his belly as he caught his breath. Drew smiled, leaning into his ear as he rubbed Cody's back. “Ah, poor Cody. So neglected. Going so long without a good railing. And with an ass like that, too...”

Cody just continued to pant.

“You know, if you became Rock’s or corporate’s or The Bloodline’s or whoever's little sugar baby, I doubt they'd let you have any release. Let alone twice. They'd just take what they want and leave you to take care of yourself...” He surveyed Cody's prone, naked frame. “A damn tragedy, because they'll be missing out on this beautiful sight.” He said, kissing Cody's neck tattoo on its lips. (He still thought it was stupid, but he was high on afterglow and enjoying his “victory lap”. Besides, a little extra seduction couldn't hurt.)

Cody still didn't respond. Drew might've broken his brain with his dick. One more thing for him to smug about.

“And don't get me started on aftercare. I said I'd take care of you and I meant it. Hell, I'll even stay the night and cuddle you if you want it. Do you want that, Cody?” He asked, running his fingers through his short, bottle blond hair.

Cody nodded.

“Alright, want to get started?”

Cody shook his head. “Not yet.” He finally managed to rasp.

Drew chuckled. “Alright. I'll let you enjoy the afterglow a little longer. I'm gonna go use your shower because, honestly? I think I've earned it.”

Cody nodded. Drew smirked, then leaned over and kissed Cody on the cheek before excusing himself to the shower.

He didn't take long. Apparently, despite having a shower on his bus apparently being a luxury, Cody's sponsorship did not include a decent shower in his bus. The height was manageable enough, despite the cramped space, but the water pressure and temperature were abysmal! How did Cody live like this on the road?

If this goes on, that'll be something I want to talk about... He thought with a chuckle as he exited the shower, toweling off and wrapping one around his hips as he took another to his hair. Of course it was going to go on. He was Drew bloody McIntyre! He just satisfied the hell out of Cody!

He glanced at the mirror, leaning against the sink the best he could in the small space. (Note to self: maybe also insist on doing it at a hotel instead of the tour bus.) Drew smirked and winked at himself as he removed the towel from his head, some of his dark locks falling in his face. Yeah, the locker room had better thank Big D for his—

His thought was cut off by another, intrusive one. Cody's question from earlier: “What's in it for you?”

Drew brushed his hair back with his hand. It was such a dumb question! Lots of things! Keeping the playing field level come WrestleMania! Taking something from the damn Bloodline for once! The satisfaction that, whether he won or not (somehow), he’d been hitting that and probably would after! If word got out, it was something to hold over the locker room's head! To once again prove he was better than Randy! The sex in general!

Seeing Cody in the state he was in now, knowing it was all his. Hearing him desperately moan his na–

He gripped the sink. Where'd that come from?

This thing with Cody was transactional, nothing more. A mutual means to an end. Why pretend it wouldn't be? He shook it off and made his way back to Cody. “Alright, let's take care of–”

Cody had apparently dozed off, clinging to his pillow. It was almost cute, really. Drew smiled and climbed into Cody's bed (he'd given him permission, after all). “Alright, you're the boss, Cody...”

Cody rolled over to Drew, placing his hand on Drew’s chest. Drew adjusted himself and Cody accordingly to get comfortable. Somehow, they ended up with Cody's head on his chest, as well. Drew held him in his arms. Cody ran his fingers through Drew's chest hair a little, briefly surfacing from the throes of his exhaustion.

“Thank you, Drew...” He said sleepily, before succumbing to sleep again.

Something warm sparked in Drew. He rubbed his back gently and kissed the top of his head. “You're welcome, Cody...” He said, softly.

Sleep wasn't going to come as easily to Drew that night, however.

There was a nagging thought in the back of his head.

The feeling that somehow, some way, there might be more in this for McIntyre than a means to an end and ego.

And he dreaded that thought.

[mmogurl]

Last to Fall Chapter 3 - Dark On Me

18+ | 2.9k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Dragonseed Reader | Unresponsive Aegon | half sister reader - you're a princess now! Fastest elevation in class ever! wholesome, fluff, severe injury and burns, mentions of death and other bad things, but still... this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

Ok! This chapter was actually very emotional for me to write. I think sometimes I put my mind too closely into that of my characters, because as I was imagining several parts of this chapter from the reader's perspective, I found myself tearing up. Hopefully that emotion comes across in the work and makes it better.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall). I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - Dark on Me I especially like the line - 'But I found in you what was lost in me.. In a world so cold and empty.' Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for headers and I actually made all the gifs myself again! Tags: @coffeebooksrain18, @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna, @meggletoomanyfandoms, @theanbitchless (If you wanna be removed or added from/to the taglist, just let me know)

You hear the horns sound and watch from the balustrade as the procession makes its way through the city up towards the Red Keep. The soldiers return from battle victorious, carting the head of Meleys upon a wagon, but you haven’t seen Sunfyre return yet and nobody will tell you what has become of the king. You’ve heard his mother, Queen Dowager Alicent, mention Aegon in hushed whispers with some council members, but she has not deemed you worthy to share whatever information she has.

Even with the king’s decree elevating your status to that of princess, none will tell you what has happened. You must assume the worst. As the caravan draws closer to the castle, you can see another cart led by two horses. It carries what appears to be a casket covered by many blankets and your heart sinks at the thought of your most dire fears come true.

He cannot be dead. No, no. You won’t accept it.

You rush down to the courtyard, to await the arrival of your king, praying to any gods that might listen that he is still alive. A large contingent of the Kingsguard greet you outside and you feel even more strongly now that your assumption must be true. That Aegon is indeed in that wooden tomb, very likely deceased, but your heart still holds out hope that you’re wrong. The massive gates open to the inner wall of the keep and you watch with despair as the wagon is pulled forward.

As the wooden cart stops, your eyes dart to and fro as men step up to bear the casket forth. You catch the gaze of one of the white cloaks standing near you, and plead with him for answers. “Is he dead?” you whisper, desperate to know the fate of the man who had asked you to be his.

He offers a knowing expression of remorse, but nothing more. You are forced to follow behind as six men carry the king inside, be he dead or alive. You can’t help but wonder where everyone is. Where is his mother? His brother? Where is the small council? Is nobody here to witness the return of the king? You can’t help but to cry quietly as you follow the men of the City Watch and Kingsguard combined with your hung head low.

They carry the massive wooden crate all through the castle, heading upstairs until they enter Maegor’s Holdfast. You pass by Queen Helaena who is standing outside of her chambers, observing the procession with curiosity. You can’t help but wonder if they had kept the truth from her as well. When your eyes lock onto each others, her features twist with curiosity at the sight of your tears, but there is no malice present.

Helaena has never been rude or cruel to you, despite her knowledge of your role in Aegon’s life. She almost seemed grateful that you were able to offer him the companionship that she could not. The queen did not follow further, opting to stay back, likely having a sense that even more tragedy was on the horizon. You didn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t change that you must know. You had to see with your own eyes what had become of your love, Aegon.

As the doors to the king’s chambers opened, your gaze fell upon Alicent standing to the side by the windows. Of course she had known, but chose to leave you in the dark, suffering alone with your doubts and fears. When she saw you, she averted her eyes for a moment, her facade of calm cracking slightly before she steeled herself and offered you a nod. You returned the gesture with a trembling lower lip stepping aside to watch what came next.

They removed the lid of the casket and a whimper escaped your lips as one soldier took Aegon’s sword, Blackfyre, from within and placed it to the side with reverence. The soldiers cleared the room as men dressed in black heaved a dark canvas bag from within the wooden coffer. The sight of this actually made you fall to your knees with grief, finally seeing proof that Aegon was not of this world anymore.

A lamenting wail throbbed through your chest as they placed Aegon’s body on the bed. Your hand clutched the footboard as you fell down on one knee, barely keeping yourself upright. Alicent came to stand beside you, and you barely noticed the presence of the maesters entering through your sobbing.

“Is he alive?” the Queen Dowager asked with a mixture of shock and trepidation. The words stopped your weeping instantly as you pulled yourself up and leaned over the bedframe.

“His Grace, remains with us, for the moment,” Grand Maester Orwyle answered somberly.

You let out whining gasp that makes you sound like a pathetic animal, but you can’t help it. “He was alive? And you carted him through the streets as though he were a corpse!?” You cannot help but cry out as you stare accusingly at Alicent, appalled by the treatment he’d received.

“I didn’t have much say in it,” the Queen Dowager replies looking bewildered as the sight before her seemed to sink in. “They told me.. They thought it would be best that nobody saw the injuries he sustained.”

You stop your outrage, realizing that she likely didn’t know the extent of the damage either. Still, you wish she would have confided in you what little she had known so that you might have better prepared for this.

Orwyle takes an instrument from his medical kit and begins to remove pieces of Aegon’s armor. The more you look, the more you begin to understand what has happened to him. The entire left side of his body, from his head all the way down to his leg, has been scorched by dragonflame. His arm appears to have been dealt the brunt of the damage, where the Valyrian steel has melted into his limb, leaving it a gored tangle of flesh and metal.

A cry threatens to escape your lips once more, but you stifle it. There will be time for sobbing later, but for now you wish to keep yourself preoccupied. “I wish to help,” you say desperately, but everyone is so busy at work that nobody even responds. “Please,” you ask again, your brows furrowed with anguish. “I need to help.”

Alicent offers a glance at one of the maesters assisting Orwyle and from there, a chain reaction of assent occurs, until finally a young man tugs your arm and pulls you to the side.

“You can aid me in making the poultices,” he says softly. You cannot possibly express how grateful you are for the opportunity to stay busy, while attempting to save your king. You offer the Queen Dowager an appreciative look from across the room and return to learning how to prepare the treatment for Aegon.

It is likely a good thing that you are not watching as they remove the king’s armor, for you can hear his ragged breaths and the gasp that startles from Alicent’s mouth in response to it.

“Is my son going to die?” she asks sounding petrified. You do not wish to hear it, but you can’t tune it out either.

“I’m afraid I cannot say,” Orwyle responds quietly, turning his head to regard the Queen Dowager for a moment. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, these next hours are most critical.”

“Of course,” Alicent replies, taking a step back so that she’s no longer interfering with the healers work.

The young maester in training hands you a plate filled with individual leaves of steamed cabbage and notions for you to take it to the bed. “Take these,” he says quietly as a mouse. You don’t hesitate to obey, not wanting to hinder Aegon’s chances for survival.

You hold the tray out, leaning over Aegon’s bed, to an aged maester with a gray beard dressed all in dingy whites. He begins to take one piece at a time, placing the wraps at the bottom of Aegon’s broken leg and working his way up. Your hands shake slightly, but you do your best to stall your trembling so that you might be of use. Stealing a glance down the length of the bed, you see Orwyle sponging charred bits away from Aegon’s once pristine face.

Your heart aches, but you push it deep down. There will be time to grieve later if he dies, but you refuse to give into despair again before that actually happens.

“Someone will have to rule in his stead,” the cold and familiar voice cuts through your thoughts.

You turn to your right and see Aemond standing there, dead center at the foot of Aegon’s bed. He had always seemed dangerous to you, but has never looked this unhinged before. You can’t help but wonder what might have happened at the battle of Rook’s Rest to change his demeanor so drastically. The way he looks at Aegon, it reminds you of a cat playing with a mouse, holding it by the tail and swatting at it.

You can’t help but wonder how he stands there without an ounce of concern for his brother. As your discomfort grows, you decide that you will have to keep an eye on the prince from now on. You swear solemnly to yourself, glaring at Aemond while you do so, that you will keep watch on the king as though your life depended on it. Just in case.

————

It has been a couple of days now and while Aegon has not yet woken, he has not yet passed into the arms of the Stranger either. He’s been cleaned up considerably, and his wounds all tended to. The only remnants of the horror you witnessed when he first arrived in the Red Keep being the charcoal still tinting his cheek and of course all of the burns that lace his left side. His broken leg is propped up to keep the blood from swelling, but otherwise Aegon looks peaceful in his slumber, despite the audible struggle he has breathing. You lay next to Aegon on the bed, unwilling to leave his side for any reason lest he might wake alone without a caring face to welcome him back. Nestled carefully against the side of him that is not horribly burnt, it almost feels comforting to feel his chest rise and fall beside you with a fire crackling in the hearth.

At first, you worried that Aegon might pass at any given moment, but once he was out of imminent danger, it became a waiting game. Inevitably boredom overcame you as the king continued to sleep. You took to cleaning to pass the time. First, washing and scrubbing every nook and cranny of the floor in his chambers despite the objection of everyone that came across your endeavoring to stay sane. You then moved onto dusting and cleaning out the tapestries. It was one of the few times you’d left the king’s chambers since he returned, but you wanted to take everything outside to be aired out, lest there be a dust storm within.

A soft sigh pulls you from your memories and your eyes open to see Alicent sitting at the side of Aegon’s bed. Her hand is clinging to his as she leans slightly onto the bed. You can tell from her expression that this whole situation has been very taxing on her. Within such a short span of time, she’s almost lost her eldest son and king, and been passed over for the regency of the realms in his absence for Aemond. Given the predatory way the new Prince Regent had been staring at Aegon days prior, this is a decision you wholeheartedly disagree with.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown to appreciate Alicent’s company. At first she seemed annoyed by your presence, but you can only assume that in seeing your dedication to her son, she’s softened towards you. She’s even shared several kind words with you, which felt incredibly awkward, especially when she began referring to you as ‘The Princess,’ a title you are still not accustomed to hearing anyone speak, let alone her.

The Queen Dowager had never acknowledged the decree previously, but then none of the acceptance really matters without Aegon here to share it with. He’d talked of marrying you upon his return and now you wondered if that would ever happen. Your fingers caress softly along his arm, a motion that has become almost involuntarily by now as you huddle to him, hoping that your touch will bring him back.

Alicent stands suddenly, her eyes bleary as she places a hand on her son’s good cheek. She almost looks afraid to get too close, as though admitting the depth of her care for him might somehow make it hurt more to lose him. She nods a soft ‘good night’ to you and goes to leave the room. You watch for a moment as the maester opens the door for her in anticipation, and rest your head back down on the pillow.

And that’s when you hear it, so quiet and coarse that you might have missed it if you had not been right beside him. “Mummy,” he whispers without opening his eyes.

You dart up from the bed with haste, looking at him incredulously, as though he had just risen from the dead. “Queen Dowager!” you cry out, not wishing to disturb him, but needing to get her attention. “Maesters! He spoke!” You realize you are laughing with relief as you call out to the them, brushing the backs of your knuckles upon Aegon’s cheek gently as you coo to him. “She is coming, my love.”

As Alicent rushes back to her son’s bedside, you both share a look of hopeful promise. “What did he say?” she asks, her eyes searching over Aegon as though he might move, and than glancing back to you.

“He said ‘Mummy,’” you answer with a smile, happy to see the look of touched gratitude that appears on her face.

“Oh my sweet son…” she trails off, seemingly unable to put words to how she is feeling. She stands beside him, reaching out with a little more confidence this time. “Mummy’s here,” she offers quietly as the two maesters on duty gather behind her.

Aegon lets out a gravelly sound, his breath hitching as he fights for consciousness.

“We’ll let Grand Maester Orwyle know of this development,” one of the men in white offers. “But if he is soon to be speaking with us, it is good news indeed.”

The Queen Dowager is in high spirits when she is finally ready to leave for the night, so exhausted she can barely keep her eyes open. “Thank you,” she says, looking you in the eyes as she rises from her chair. “You didn’t have to call me back, but I’m glad that you did.”

“Who am I to deny him his mother if that’s who he’s ask for?” you say as though there was no other possible outcome in your mind.

She smiles at you with a warmth she’s never shown you before, nodding slightly. “Will you have them fetch me if he wakes again?” she asks with fondness in her voice.

“Of course,” you reply, settling back into the bed beside Aegon. You are surprised when she walks around to your side of the bed, and proceeds to mother you under the covers.

“If you’re going to spend your nights in here, than the least you can do is keep comfortable,” Alicent says with a hint of jest in her tone.

It is definitely a touch strange as she pulls the blanket up and around you, tucking it underneath you slightly. It’s almost suffocating, but in a nice way. “Good night,” you say, turning on your side towards Aegon. You’ve practically made a nook at his side from the amount of time you’ve spent there by now.

“Sleep well,” Alicent calls as she extinguishes the candles, leaving nothing but the hearth to light the immediate vicinity. She ushers the maesters out of the room, with an authoritative pitch. “Get some rest for the night, my son is in good hands as you can plainly see.”

As the doors close and you’re left in silence, you can’t help but consider how sometimes the worst things in life can really help to bring people together. You’ve also seen tragedy tear relationships apart, but when something beautiful can blossom from the ashes of destruction, it almost feels like everything is going to be alright again. Like Aegon is going to wake up and get out of his bed and move on with his life. And when he does, he’ll find himself rousing to a world in which his mother might feel a little more comfortable showing her thanks for his company.

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply of his scent. Despite all of the medicinal herbs and the lingering remnants of carbon, you can still smell him. You press a tender kiss on his neck, right below his ear, humming softly as you taste him on your lips.

Whispering softly, you beseech him with kindness, “I love you, Aegon.” You run the tip of your nose against his jawline, savoring the feel of him. “I’ll wait for you… As long as it takes. Just come back to me.”

[midnight-fables]

Entry 27: 8 Word Chorus

GIF by: @mporium

Bearblr Promptober Day 27: Nightmare

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend (who he calls Darling) has a nightmare, and he comforts her. Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing, comfort, nightmare, fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns (1157 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

27 Oct 2024

I’m the one with nightmares, so when I woke up seemingly for no reason, I was confused as hell.

I fall asleep pretty quick on workdays (and after a good fuck, I’ll be honest), but if I happen to wake up in the middle of the night, I’m usually cooked. If I can get back to sleep before the haze clears, sure, I’ll get some fitful sleep. I’ll wake up with a headache, but I won’t be miserable by the time dinner service starts. So, I did what I usually do, closed my eyes and refused to move a muscle, hoping the tides of sleep would take me again.

But then Darling flinched.

It wasn’t that little sleepy twitch of her leg that she does sometimes when she’s off in dreamland—this one was more like she recoiled from something. The immediate thought in my sleep-addled mind was that something was hurting her (spider, I don’t know, maybe I got a rat or something), so all hopes of sleep evaporated, and I propped up on my elbow to stare at her in the minimal glow from that annoying fucking streetlight coming through the drawn blinds. Faint shine on her brow, cheekbone, the bridge of her nose. She had her arms curled up tightly to her chest with the blanket bunched up under her chin. I just barely pressed the inside of my wrist to her forehead. Cool. Sticky. Not a fever. She flinched again and scrunched into a tighter ball, made a small sound, then drew in a sharp breath.

It’s funny how brains work, isn’t it? The only information I had was that she was curled up, she flinched, she was sweaty, and she didn’t feel warm, and I managed to piece together, even half-cranky from interrupted sleep, that she was having a nightmare.

I rubbed slowly between her shoulder blades, same thing I remember her doing on the nights I couldn’t seem to fend my demons off, and for a few moments, it seemed like she would doze back off. I even thought about lying back down and trying to get some amount of shuteye, but then she whimpered. Drew in another sharp breath. Whimpered again.

She was crying.

It might not have been the best decision to make, but at the time, I just needed to make it stop. I needed her to stop crying. It tore something raw in my chest, set off the buzzing in my ribs and in my temples that I got right after a sudden loud sound or when someone on the line didn’t answer me when I called for them.

“Baby girl? Hey,” I said, squeezing her shoulder. I didn’t mean for it to come out as a whisper, but I couldn’t get my voice any louder, not even when she didn’t wake up, not even when I tried twice more to call to her. There was something else, something deeper, something painful twisted up at the base of my throat that stopped the words. All I could do was tug at the blanket to try dislodging it from her grip.

She screeched when she finally did wake up. Bolted upright with wide eyes, reached blindly for something, anything to grab.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here! Hey!” That at least had some volume to it, even if it sounded like I had strep.

She threw her arms around me and crushed me in a trembling hug. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t leave!” she sobbed.

“W-what? I’m not leaving! What are you-hey, it’s okay! It was just a nightmare!”

She heaved for air, coughed. I held her to my chest, rocked her back and forth, rubbed up and down her back. She shook violently, was digging her fingers so hard into the backs of my shoulders that my eyes stung.

“Hey, you’re okay.” I peppered kisses on her forehead, her temple. “Breathe. Breathe, hm? I’m not going anywhere. It was just a nightmare.”

Fucking hell, it was weird being the one calming her down. What’s weirder was that I sort of knew what to do? Maybe it was just subconscious learning, but I chanced resting my hand on her sternum. She released her grip on my shoulders, planted her hand over mine, and pressed it harder into her skin. Tucked her face into the crook of my neck, dragged in slow, shaky breaths. She intertwined her fingers with my other hand. I traced the pulse in her wrist with my thumb.

I heard her throat click when she swallowed. “Nightmare,” she breathed.

I kissed her forehead. “Yeah. Just a nightmare, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry. You have work—”

What?

“It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong, princess.”

Darling slumped against me at that. An eternity went by with her just tucked into me like that. Her eyelashes brushed my neck every time she blinked, sometimes a beat every few seconds, sometimes a few rapid ones in succession. Could almost hear her thinking. Almost feel her attention snapping back and forth between our bedroom in Chicago and wherever her nightmare was. Don’t leave. She told me—almost screamed at me in her panicked state—not to leave. She’d said before that she feared waking up and discovering I was a figment of her imagination; I didn’t have a chance to think too much about it before, but now it played on repeat in my head, a cursed refrain, an 8-word chorus. All of this will have been a dream.

Did I act like I didn’t love her? Was she worried about Syd being in my life? Why? Why was she worried that I’d go?

All of this will have been a dream.

My heart lurched into my throat. My eyes stung. I loved her so much that it hurt me, why the fuck did she think I would leave?

 “Why are you scared I’ll leave?” I whispered into her hair.

She gulped again. Slid my hand off her chest, into her lap. Traced the scar on my palm. “I keep having this nightmare. That… you’re on my table. You have cuts everywhere. And I can’t find my tools.”—she took a deep breath—“I keep saying that, um, we need to get a mask on you so that you can breathe. But no one else is there. And I can’t find one. And you start crashing.”

Oh.

“You tell me you have to go. I keep begging you not to leave.”

Oh.

I kissed her forehead. Tried to kiss the memories of the nightmare away. Tried to reassure her somehow, I don’t know. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t want you to worry. Please, don’t worry. I’ve always had nightmares; they don’t mean anything. Just… part of being a trauma surgeon.”

Hate to break it to you, princess, but I was going to worry anyway. Nothing personal. Just part of being in love, I guess.

[muiitoloko]

hiii could u please write something fluffy and sweet for harry hart?? 🤩💗

Title: A Spy's Return.

Summary: After yet another close call, Harry Hart comes home to the one person who always brings him back to reality. Through tender touches, shared silence, and soft humming, they find peace in the midst of a life full of danger.

Pairing: Harry Hart × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for your order 🫶

Also read on Ao3

You sat on the edge of the couch, carefully dabbing at the cut on Harry’s cheek with a piece of gauze soaked in antiseptic. His eyes flickered with discomfort, and he hissed softly as the cold liquid touched the open wound. You gave him a pointed look, your lips pressed into a thin line as you continued to clean the cut.

“For God’s sake, Harry,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. “Just because you’re a spy doesn’t mean you don’t have to be careful.”

Harry’s mouth quirked up into a half-smile, despite the sting. He winced slightly, his brown eyes watching you closely. “I was careful,” he countered, his voice calm but firm. “If I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”

You glanced at him, your hand pausing for a moment as you met his gaze. His usually sharp, confident demeanor softened when he saw the worry flicker in your eyes. Harry’s smile faded, and he swallowed, going quiet as he realized how much you were troubled.

You always worried when he went on missions. Every time he walked out that door, your mind ran through a million worst-case scenarios. And seeing him come back, even with just a small cut, made your heart ache.

Harry could see it, the fear you tried so hard to mask. He watched as you finished bandaging his cheek, your fingers gentle but your expression tense. After securing the bandage, you stood up and moved to put the first aid kit back in its place.

But before you could pull away completely, Harry’s hand shot out, gently grabbing yours. His grip was warm, steady, pulling you back toward him. "Wait," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

You turned, looking down at him as he stood up, towering over you. His hand never left yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he stepped closer. His brown eyes, always so focused and serious, softened as he looked down at you.

"Come here," he murmured, his tone shifting to something warm, almost playful. Before you could ask what he was up to, Harry gently tugged you toward the center of the living room.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite your earlier frustration.

Harry didn’t answer right away. Instead, he carefully guided you into his arms, one hand slipping around your waist while the other held yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in that familiar way that always made you feel safe.

"Dancing," he said simply, his lips curving into a soft smile. "We could both use a little distraction, don’t you think?"

You raised an eyebrow at him but let him pull you close, your body fitting perfectly against his. There was no music, but that didn’t matter. Harry always had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special. He began to sway gently, his movements slow and deliberate, the kind of dance only two people who knew each other intimately could share.

You chuckled softly, leaning your head against his chest as you fell into the easy rhythm of his steps. "Harry Hart, ever the romantic," you teased lightly, though your heart swelled with warmth at the gesture.

Harry let out a soft laugh, his breath warm against your ear as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Well, I try to keep you on your toes, darling," he whispered, his voice full of that cheeky charm you had come to adore.

For a while, you just swayed together in the quiet of the living room, your worries slowly melting away as Harry held you close. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and the soft sound of his breathing—it all grounded you, made you feel like everything was going to be alright.

"Thank you," you murmured after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harry pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. "For what?"

You smiled up at him, your hand reaching up to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the bandage. "For coming back to me."

Harry’s expression softened even more, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the part of him that always worried about the risks he took. He leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss before he whispered, “I’ll always come back to you.”

And as you danced together, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just you and Harry, wrapped up in each other, in the quiet comfort of your home. You knew there would always be dangers, always missions, always risks—but in moments like this, none of it mattered.

All that mattered was that Harry was here, holding you, and for now, that was enough.

As you continued to sway together in the living room, wrapped in each other's warmth, Harry began to hum softly. The tune was gentle, familiar, a song you’d heard him hum before during quiet moments like this. His deep voice vibrated in his chest, and the sound wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. It was a melody that always made you feel safe, like the world outside could wait.

You looked up at him, his face relaxed, his lips curled into a soft smile as he hummed the tune. His brown eyes, full of warmth, met yours, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. No missions, no danger—just the two of you in the quiet comfort of your home. His thumb continued to brush lightly over your knuckles as he held you, guiding your movements with a grace that made you feel like you were floating.

"Is that the song you always hum when you think I’m not listening?" you asked with a teasing smile, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Harry let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and rich. "Perhaps," he replied, his tone light but affectionate. "It’s one of those old tunes that gets stuck in my head. Reminds me of simpler times."

You raised an eyebrow, leaning into him a little more. "Simpler times? You mean when you weren’t a spy saving the world every other week?"

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Exactly. Though, I must say, saving the world does have its perks—like getting to come home to you."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, a smile tugging at your lips. Harry always had a way of making you feel cherished, even in the smallest moments. He lowered his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he continued to hum that familiar tune, his voice a soothing melody that matched the gentle rhythm of your movements.

Feeling the affection build between you, you stood on your tiptoes, bringing yourself closer to his face. His eyes flickered with curiosity and warmth as you closed the distance, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips. Harry responded immediately, his hand slipping up to cradle the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, his lips soft but firm against yours. There was something unspoken in the way he kissed you—something tender, a reminder that in his world of danger and uncertainty, you were his safe haven.

When you finally pulled back, your noses brushed together, and Harry smiled down at you, his brown eyes sparkling with a mix of love and amusement. "What was that for?" he asked, his voice low and playful.

You shrugged, a soft smile dancing on your lips. "I just wanted to remind you that you’re loved… and that I’m always waiting for you to come back."

Harry’s expression softened even more, and he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "You don’t need to remind me of that, darling. I know it every time I look at you."

His words made your heart flutter, and you let out a quiet laugh, feeling the last of your worries melt away. The two of you stood like that for a moment, your foreheads pressed together, swaying gently in the middle of the room. There was no need for words anymore; the connection between you spoke volumes on its own.

"Keep humming," you whispered after a while, your eyes closed as you savored the moment. "I like hearing you hum."

Harry chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he began to hum again, the familiar tune filling the space between you. The world outside faded further away, and for a little while longer, it was just you and Harry, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s love.

And as you danced together, you realized that no matter how many missions or dangers lay ahead, moments like this—quiet, peaceful, filled with love—were the ones that made it all worthwhile.

[dangermousie]

2023 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

Yes, we have a lot of December left, but I don't think anything else I want to check out will air before 2024 hits (it's cdrama so caveat is - you never know.)

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it's not on the list. This was a pretty good cdrama year, all in all.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

30 legend of twin flower - Not dignifying that drama with capital letters, as the only capital that should be associated with this is capital punishment - which is what watching this feels like.

29 Dominator of Martial Gods - sounds like a bdsm gay porn title. Would probably be better acted and written if it was.

28 Beauty of Resilience - you'd need a lot of said resilience to sit through this incoherent, barely acted mess. The thing that I remember the most other than my annoyance is all the jingly-jangly head gear on JJY. Perhaps they could have sold some of them and spent the money on a better script.

27 Divine Destiny - if you think you have too many brain cells and want to get rid of some, boy do I have a drama for you!

26 Wanru’s Journey - honestly it's probably tied with SEL - I mean it's worse but it has actors who are nowhere as well known and a fraction of SEL's budget. Still, this is a big fat nope. I will not say what I think of Aoi Rupeng's "acting" or I'd have to put money in the curse jar.

25 Snow Eagle Lord - Gulinazha's stone face, nonsense plot, terrible CGI. Take your pick as to why this is terrible.

24 Scent of Time - it was uneven but fun but then that ending was dumb enough to destroy the whole thing. Show me on the doll where common sense hurt you, makers!

23 Royal Rumors - Jeremy Tsui and Meng Ziyi are utterly wasted in this nothing trifle of a drama.

22 Legend of Anle - I had high expectations but alas. This is the drama version of color beige. There is nothing offensive about it but nothing good either. Mediocre actors are mediocre, good actors become mediocre, this is just a waste of our finite time on planet earth.

21 Romance on the Farm - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like this wholesome slice of farming family life, but it's tailored to trigger every one of my "nope" opinions.

20 Back from the Brink - if I were 12, it would be my favorite thing. I am not 12.

19 Journey of Chong Zi - objectively a terrible drama with plot holes the size of Mars and a leading lady whose face has apparently frozen when the wind changed. But I am a total sucker for the trope of upright shizun falling for his demonic disciple and going mental so here we are. Objectively, garbage, subjectively my precious!

18 Love you Seven Times - just call poor Ding Yuxi "Atlas," he carried this mess so hard.

17 Blooming Days - trashy dogblood harem fight fun throwback. It's not that great (and the fact that it was shredded doesn't help) but it's probably the last gasp of that genre for the foreseeable future, so I am grading on a curve.

16 The Starry Love - a fun fantasy where the secondary OTP stole the thunder but overall a really solid fantasy xianxia romance.

15 The Longest Promise - it could have been better - the secondaries were unbearable and there was too much of them and what they did with Alen Fang's character still gives me rage fits, but the main couple was impeccable and lovely and I rooted so hard for them.

14 Chang Feng Du/Destined - visually gorgeous, solidly acted, impeccable first half. Bland as hell second half. Win some, lose some.

13 Circle of Love - this drama is a nonsense trash heap on fire. After a typhoon hit it. It was also the most entertaining, addicting drama on this whole list.

12 Hidden Love - the sole modern on this list, this story has barely any plot but it made me care about the young, decent lovers so hard.

11 Choice Husband - starts out wacky, continues with angst and blood and happy ending. I loved it, but I've always had a soft spot for melo and schemers turning devoted.

10 Pledge of Allegiance - bromance, super solid acting, visuals, a really dark take on officials and the world. Insanely underrated.

9 Provoke - a truly fun Republican revenge and love tale, showing that short format can be wonderful.

8 Gone with the Rain - some of the secondary characters are rage-inducing (hi there, cardboard boy!) but the scheming, ruthless, vulgar FL is amazing and her slowburn with her age gap general who is delighted by her out-there-ness is great!

7 Wonderland of Love - Fei Wo Si Cun goes wholesome and the result is surprisingly entertaining. Battle couple, glorious visuals, a fast paced plot. It's the first Xu Kai drama I enjoyed in years (and he plays a rare cdrama ML it would be pretty neat to pair up with in rl.)

6 My Journey to You - that ending is infuriating (and I am OK with open endings if done properly) but what a visual feast, probably the most gloriously shot drama on this list, and that's a tough competition. Also it packs a hell of a lot of couples and familial and adversarial relationships into its slim running time; assassin lady won over by a gentle man is my favorite trope and so this is extra great.

5. Till the End of the Moon - the ending is a rage-inducing disaster for me, but this drama was the most incredibly emotionally intense, visually eye popping experience. It was deeply flawed but when it was amazing, it was like nothing else in its visuals, its characters and its narratives. It took insane risks; some paid off and some did not, but it was glorious.

4. Story of Kunning Palace - I don't often care for reverse harem stories but this one was such fun - the main OTP was glorious (strong FL, unhinged ML) but honestly everything about this was just so excellently done.

3. The Ingenious One - the most adult drama on this list. Smart protagonists, intelligent plot, emotions that felt true, this is a revenge and a mystery and found family and goes into so many directions you do not expect (Su Mengyu's PTSD after his first kill - that is something you never see in dramas, definitely not prolonged and profound - not like this.) If I was to say which drama was objectively the best on this list, as opposed to favorite, it would be this.

1 (tie) Lost You Forever 1 - this is an exquisite emotional jewel of a story about damaged people moving forward, with damage always present - their past informs their present and always will. The narrative about Xiao Yao and three very different men in her life makes me think that it's an equivalent of a neutron bomb going off right before the main narrative starts and now we are watching the survivors wander in the wreckage. This is very high fantasy setting but it's one of the most emotionally human narratives out there.

1 A Journey to Love - everything I ever wanted - assassins, ride or die adult OTP with genuine believable conflicts, great and complex secondaries, beautiful fights. Oh, and yeah Liu Shi Shi domming the hell out of every man in a ten mile radius, as she should.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It's a tie between Lost You Forever Part 1 and A Journey to Love. LYF1 is a bona fide art piece but it's only part 1 and who knows if part 2 will be any good (seeing the huge ep number cut, I have my doubts) and so it's incomplete. AJTL is an old school wuxia romance with incredibly competent, adult people in love and great cast of secondaries. I can't pick.

WORST DRAMA

romance of twin flower - this is a drama that should not exist. If I could hex everyone involved with it, I would. It's a terrible, stupid, shrill, badly acted drama to start with, but where it really is catapulted into stratosphere of horror is that is took my very favorite non-danmei web novel of all time, a smart and complicated tale with incredible protagonists and turned it into that barftastic abomination. Peng Xiao Ran kept making horrible drama after horrible drama but I kept giving her a chance because of Goodbye My Princess but after this disaster, I've had to accept GMP was a fluke and she is on my "if she's in it, I am out” list. Ding Yuxi is not that far yet (his performance in Seven Lifetimes was the one thing carrying that mess afloat) but he's on freaking thin ice. Anyway, I like to pretend this drama does not exist.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

It was hard because there were so many I loved this year - Deng Wei's traumatized, gentle Seventeen from LYF1 (if someone told me I'd swoon and weep for a character played by Deng Wei, I'd have told them to examine their brains asap), Liu Yuning's incredibly capable, deadly, contained Ning Yuanzhou from AJTL, Zhang Linghe's unhinged Xie Wei from SoKP, Chen Xiao's schemer with a heart Yun Xiang from TIO.

But ultimately, it couldn't be anyone else but Luo Yunxi as Tantai Jin/Demon God/Ming Ye/Cang Jiumin in Till the End of the Moon. He was everything - a demon, a saint, a martyr, a monster, a tormented abuse victim, a savior, joyful, unhinged, smart, pitiable. It was the cdrama performance of the year for me. Luo Yunxi even in a mediocre role is impressive but in a complex (series of) role(s) designed for his strengths, he is a force of nature.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Yao (Lost You Forever Part 1). Once again, there were runner ups - Bai Lu's smart a little evil FL in Kunning, the gloriously unhinged assassin domme Liu Shi Shi in AJTL, Esther Yu's assassin longing for a different life in MJTY etc etc etc. But Xiao Yao's damaged, difficult, very self-aware woman stole my heart. I was skeptical going in because I haven't enjoyed a Yang Zi performance in a long time, but she was the wounded beating soul of this incredible drama.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Where do we start? How about all of Seventeen's (LYF1) monster family? His brother, who tortured him for years physically and emotionally to such a degree his body is a horror map and his personality is permanently altered because "mommy liked you better." Psycho mother who created a situation where the kids were going to turn on each other and "let's get my grandson raped" grandma. Where is a well-placed meteorite when you need one.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xiao Yao/Seventeen, LYF1. Yes, a ship of characters played by Yang Zi and Deng Wei is my favorite. Leave me alone, I am on my tenth helping of crow already. They are both incredibly damaged, barely functioning survivors who find what they need in the other - he finds a savior and someone who sees him as a man and rebuilds himself around her and she finds someone who will always put her first and only, and subsume himself in her. Is it healthy? No. Does it make sense for them and is it making them slowly functional? Yes.

Runner up: Ren Ruyi/Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL - two adults, so competent, so chemistry full. She has so much damage and so little normalcy but is so strong and he is oddly gentle (in between murders) and incredibly self-reflective. They are each other's mirrors and I love them.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Su Mingyu/Ke Menglan, The Ingenious One - the idealistic merchant who wants to join jianghu until he sees its horrors firsthand and a slave entertainer who wants security but decides she wants him more. They are gorgeous and glorious and wholesome and I adore them.

Runner up: Liu Gong Quan/Ming Zhu, The Ingenious One - that drama was a shippy gift, especially impressive considering it wasn't even romance-centric. He's the officer who has to bring down her treasonous father but loves her. Delicious.

Another runner up is Chao Feng/Qian Kui, the angelic good girl and the scheming bad boy in The Starry Love. They stole the drama from the main OTP for me.

NOTP

Scent of Time endgame. What the hell was even that. It made NO sense.

FAVORITE SCENE

So many good scenes this year - Tantai Jin taking apart Li Susu in prison in TTEOTM, the OTP fighting in perfect sync and insane rhythm in the gorge battle in AJTL, Chen Ruoxuan's character stopping the execution in Pledge, Yan Lin's coming of age in Kunning, the poison/antidote "gamble" in MJTY, Cang Xuan detoxing in LYF1. But I think ultimately, me being who I am, my favorite scene is Xiao Yao kissing Seventeen's damaged, scarred knee to show he is in no way inferior for her. AAAAA!

In terms of pure jaw dropping visuals tho nothing will ever beat Ming Ye’s battle against the Devil God in TTEOTM.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Ning Yuanzhou, AJTL. He's sexy as hell (that height, that way he moves in battle) but he's also so incredibly competent, so adult, so self-reflective and so attracted to a woman for her strength. He also gets whumped on the reg. Anyway, my hormones are ready.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Gong Yuanzhi (My Journey to You) - I loved the unhinged, brocon poison boy. He was everything. Also Yan Lin (Kunning) - talk about sunshine; I totally got why all these people felt they needed to save him.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

My Journey to You - what the HELL was that ending?

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

legend of twin flower - that is, stab it with scissors like it stabbed the novel until it's dead.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Till the End of the Moon - they clearly cut stuff to fit into the new regs about runtime and it made the last 1/5 rather abrupt. Gimme!

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

The emperor cannot be irredeemable. WTF, China, you are a communist country!

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

This is the year of a ML who yearns to be dommed by his FL. Long may it continue.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

The Legend of Anle - the novel had a great plot, the cast were all actors I either enjoy a lot or somewhat and we got - whatever that soggy piece of wonderbread toast was.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

LYF1 - I only checked out to mock because nobody could explain the story to me and nobody in the cast did anything I like either ever or in years. And then I fell utterly and completely in love and had to eat so much delicious crow.

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

Ancient Love Song is the only one on that list. It looks really good, I just need to brace myself.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

The Imperial Doctoress - best slowburn and pining and glorious character development and adult leads.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Anticipating any nonaired cdrama is a mug's game but if they air, I will definitely check out all the Fox Matchmaker dramas, LYF2, JoL2 and The Last Immortal. If Prisoner of Beauty ever is allowed out of the vault (dubious), it goes on the list too.

[kalkiethinks]

SCAM ALERT

TLDR: If a commisioner ignores your instructions, sends you a ton of money upfront via a check asking you to deposit and send back a portion of money- DO NOT. So back in Nov 10 I got an email commission which started okay: "I hope this message finds you well. I am reaching out to you because I am impressed by your portfolio and believe your artistic style would be a fantastic fit for an upcoming project I am coordinating.

I am currently in the process of assembling a team and I need a talented illustrator to collaborate on the title, Pandemic: Precaution and Prevention. Your work stood out to me due to its vibrant colors, character choices and attention to detail.

If you are interested, I would love to discuss the project further and provide more details about the scope, timeline, and compensation. Please let me know if this opportunity aligns with your current availability and if you would be open to discussing it further.

He wanted to create 6 group illustrations that would be printed and handed out for students 18-25 that would equate to $6000 at a 9 week turnaround. This raised an eyebrow but thought they were just a generous client. I gave him my procedure pipeline, starting with a min deposit upfront as a show of good faith. Also told him holidays are busy so will we start next year? He says that's fine. So far okay. "Considering the amount to be paid for the job, cashiers check or bank certified checks is our best bet. My sponsor doesn't use online payment platforms. He's an old-fashioned businessperson. The check will be issued and mailed to you and you should receive it within 5 days. Please get back to with your details in the format below:" Another raised eyebrow in this digital day and age but I've done previous freelance work that used mailed checks so I was alright with this. Only released my contact info and bank name.

Now the red flags pop up: On Nov 19 he sends this: "How are you doing today ? I'm so sorry for this, sincerely I do not find it easy to write this to you this moment , I have been so busy lately, the check is been made out for $6,000.00 which is cover for both phases. The sponsor asked for immediate refund for the 2nd phase as soon as the check clears your bank then you could proceed with the first 1-3. The 2nd phase is been postponed until further notice due to the sponsors personal issue, I will provide you the tracking information via USPS as soon as I have it so you could have it tracked yourself to know when exactly it will be delivered. My sincere apology for the inconvenience and do have a great day." So my requests were completely ignored, tells me a check is on the way with the full lump sum and I have to return half that amount. This is one method I've heard scammers get access of one's bank account with the poison check and you end up paying that half with your own actual money. Checked with friends and my own bank, sounds like a scam. Check arrives, and doing 30 minutes of Googling reveals so much warning stuff:

-So the names on the client email (Nicholas Jarry), and this name on the USPS (Christopher Williams) revealed on the first results are both famous sports players. One is a funny coincidence, two is suspicious. -quick Google of what a Keybank check is like, get an old warning about what to look for in legit checks, also tried calling Keybank on how to verify a check and explaining the scenario. -the address on the USPS belongs to a residential house that had another business also registered to it before that has gone inactive. -The Ace Cafe is real, but everything is inconsistent. The Hillcourt Dr address leads to a residential house, there is no LLC, and the logo belongs to a legit Orlando location that had closed last year and is opening in a new location, the address not matching whats on the check and names do not match either Jarry or Williams.

I've already reported this issue to the FTC and while they can't help me do anything with this particular scammer I'm now passing this around to new artists to know what to look out for when too many little suspicious things add up.

[thepixelelf]

Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

or

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. He’s also the head choreographer of the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. C’mon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheol’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Seungkwan’s friend from one of his classes — computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoung’s sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like her,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah...” Soonyoung doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession, it’s not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

And Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about, that you’re a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

“If you mean dumb and dumber, then no.” Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. “Chan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up. 

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if you’re into Sehee?”

“I’m not—” Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just... I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sehee's name, she was right there!”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say hers?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Soonyoung groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghao’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like her— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghao’s eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghao’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwan’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there aren’t that many...”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask her out?”

Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Jihoon’s scrounging it out himself.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the girl you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Seungkwan’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoung’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated — and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least. 

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoung’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoung’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"

It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.

He needs a drink. 

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."

"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if she’s here.”

At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Soonyoung doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoung’s fingernails. He’s washing, Jihoon’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoon’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoung’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoung’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoon’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoung’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Soonyoung’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoung’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not the mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, she’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoung’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoung’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours — though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoung’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides it’s time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Soonyoung’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoung’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:

Go get ‘em, tiger!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “Cheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoung’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Soonyoung hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sehee’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwan’s and Jihoon’s, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Soonyoung doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Soonyoung’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

“I like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Soonyoung — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sehee’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back. 

“Where’s Minghao? Where’s Minghao?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoung’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minghao?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with her a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Soonyoung’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Soonyoung?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Soonyoung doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghao’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Seungkwan hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwan’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

no

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked her, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Soonyoung groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Jihoon and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoung’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss her you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Jihoon isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoung’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoung’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care. “What are you going to do now?”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tiger’s paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Jihoon’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“She told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to her.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Jihoon’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke he’s gripping too much. Still, he’s right.

Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoung’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Soonyoung,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

[exhaustedpirate]

build my world of dreams around you

day 20 of @bucktommyfluffebruary (combined with day 15) uncle buck and uncle tommy babysit jee-yun and baby kevin, i mean you know where this is going right? i mean, buck sings! title and excerpt from "i'll be there" by jackson 5

rated G | 1986 words also on AO3

“You were right, Queen Jee,” Tommy grins, holding out his splayed hands with his palms out. “This colour does suit me.” 

The 5 year-old grins proudly, looking up from the abstract drawing of a warrior princess fighting a massive dragon. “Your hands look pretty.” She nods as if she has to reassure him that the purple nail polish coating his nails looks good on him. She’s right.

If his father saw him now…

Tommy forces that thought away, that man has no business invading this moment. 

“Thank you, Uncle Tommy.” She grins up at him and he feels that warmth in his chest welling up in his eyes. He strokes her hair fondly before she goes back to her drawing, red crayon clearly reinforcing the dragon’s mighty flames.

No, this is his moment. His moment to be a part of the family, to entertain his niece while his husband takes care of their nephew’s diaper while Maddie and Chim go away for the weekend. It’s an honor to have their family trust the newly married couple to take care of their children, he never thought he’d get this but now that he does, he’s never letting it go.

Speaking of…

“Where’s Uncle Buck?” Jee asks, standing in front of him with heavy hands on his forearms. 

“He’s changing Kevin’s diaper,” He explains, fitting his hands on the little girl’s armpits to fit her on his hip while he stands up from the couch. “But, you’re right, he’s taking a long time, should we see what he’s up to?” Jee nods, her fists rubbing against heavy eyes before she lays her head on Tommy’s shoulder. 

Tommy feels that ease that he always searched for, the ease that Evan brings to his life everyday, the one that spending time with his family and friends reinforces. All of that and the weight of the little girl’s head on his shoulder, serving to heal all the pain and unhappiness of his past, guiding him to this perfect future. 

Marriage has made him soft. He loves it.

His hand finds his mouth the moment he crosses the doorway to baby Kevin’s room. While the baby lies in the crib, predictably obsessed with the colourful mobile attached to it, all he can see of Evan is his lower half peeking out from under it. 

Tommy’s body shakes in controlled laughter as he hears Evan mutter in annoyance from across the room. The movement jostles Jee enough to have her raise her head from his shoulder, her hand pinching his shoulder in annoyance, before she notices what Tommy is laughing at.

“Uncle Butt!” Jee laughs loudly, startling Evan enough to have him hit the bottom of the crib.

Tommy is but a man. His laughs join Jee as she chants her uncle’s new nickname between giggles and flails her arms in glee. Kevin flails around until he rolls to his stomach, his eyes finding Tommy and Jee through the crib bars, sputtering at the sounds around him.

Evan stands up carefully, rubbing his head, and shoots them a half-hearted glare that gets interrupted once he’s standing upright. Even as Tommy’s eyes water with how much he’s laughing and Jee’s high-pitched giggles ring in his ear, he notices Evan’s expression soften, the glare turning into fond exasperation as he crosses his arms.

“Setting a great example for your niece, Mr. Kinard.” Evan teases and Tommy’s laughter subdues as a wide grin stretches his lips.

He pulls Evan closer by the loop of his jeans, Jee still giggling as her head falls back down on Tommy’s shoulder, her hand reaching for Evan’s shirt. 

“Sure, I am the problem, Mr. Kinard.” Tommy’s smirk widens at the satisfied expression on his husband’s face, the way hearing his new name makes him so happy. 

Evan bites his lip and spares a glance to where Jee is likely blinking with heavy eyes before pressing his lips against Tommy’s. His hand roams from the younger man’s waist to his hip as they kiss slowly, unhurriedly, before squeezing at his butt making a startled sound come out of Evan’s mouth, eliciting another round of giggles from Tommy. 

Evan only lasts a couple of seconds faux-glaring at him before joining in the laughter.

“Go make sure Queen Jee brushes her teeth,” Evan tells him, wiggling his fingers over Jee’s belly to wake her up. She lets out a tired giggle. “And then get her in bed. It’s sleep time.”

“Can I get a story?” Her wide dark eyes turn towards him and he can see she inherited her uncle’s persuasive stare.

“Of course you can, sweetheart.” Tommy smiles, tapping Evan’s chest a couple of times before making his way out of the room. He can feel Evan’s stare on his back and smiles wider. 

“And can you make the voices?” Jee pleads, not that he needs much incentive. He hears Evan’s laughter behind him. He pretends to think about it, dramatically twisting his lips and features before she cups his face and pouts. Oh, that dangerous pout. “Please, Uncle Tommy?”

He smiles, all too eager to give the little girl anything she wants - he’d spoil her blind if he could. “Of course I can, anything Queen Jee wants.”

She cheers and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. So happy.

---

With the 5 year-old tucked into bed, teeth brushed, pajamas on and face lax with sleep after no less than two whole picture books read, Tommy stands up from the very small bench he dragged to the side of her bed. He reluctantly removes his hand from Jee’s no-longer-tight hold.

Tommy stands beside her bed for another minute, making sure she stays asleep, that she doesn’t need anything. He might be hovering. He is definitely hovering. 

Taking a deep breath, Tommy pulls the door to her bedroom, leaving it a couple of inches open. He follows a humming tune towards Kevin’s room, intrigued. Once he stands on the doorway, Tommy freezes as he looks at the scene in front of him.

In the back of his mind, he is reminded that he never actually got to see Evan with his nephew in his arms. Or maybe the distraction of everyone around them didn’t let him focus on how it looked like. Or maybe it was the fact that Evan was singing his nephew to sleep.

Kevin’s head rests against Evan’s shoulder, face hidden in the crook of it, small hands hanging off the man’s side and shoulder. His husband’s head rests lightly on the 1 year-old’s head, keeping a slight sway in place to lull the baby to sleep.

“Let me fill your heart with joy and laughter, togetherness, babe, is all I'm after,” His husband sings in a quiet voice. Tommy loves Evan’s singing voice - loves its shy tunes, the way he can’t quite reach the right notes, the way he sings anyway. “Whenever you need me, I'll be there, I'll be there to protect you,” He loves that Kevin seems to find it as soothing as Tommy does. “With unselfish love that respects you, just call my name and I'll be there.”

Evan hums the rest of the song, having only memorized part of it. Tommy can’t stop himself from imagining his husband singing to a child that looks like them, or to a toddler that accepted them as their family, accompanying a teenager in an improvised karaoke in their living room.

Tommy can’t stop himself from imagining Evan’s caring nature, the way he loves so deeply, so loudly, so beautifully, transferred to a child. A child that shares their name and that loves them just as deeply, as loudly, as beautifully. A child that has Evan’s thirst for knowledge, that shares Tommy’s interest in working with his hands. A child that will join their big, crazy family and will love them all just as they do.

Their child. 

Tommy sighs, catching Evan’s attention who turns slowly towards him. He smiles at his husband, hoping that his daydreams aren’t broadcasted so clearly in his face. Evan smiles back, a blush covering his cheeks, the way it always does when he is on the receiving end of one of Tommy’s smiles. He loves Evan so much.

“Maddie, she, uhm, she used to sing this to me when I was younger,” Evan confesses in a whisper, his swaying slowing down further. “I-I assumed she also sang it to her kids too and it worked.” His smile is wide, proud and satisfied and all Tommy wants to do is hold him and kiss him and never let go.

Tommy feels that lump in his throat, his need to scream from the rooftops the intensity of his love for Evan Buckley. For Evan Kinard - and that, even a few months after getting married, still brings an overwhelmingly happy feeling to his chest. He takes a deep breath while Evan lowers Kevin into the crib, carefully covering the baby with a blanket.

He approaches quietly while his husband lays his hands on the railing of the crib, looking fondly down at the sleeping baby. Tommy wraps his arms around Evan’s waist, chin hooked over his shoulder making the younger man sigh in contentment. This could be them.

Tommy places a soft kiss on Evan’s jawline, another one of his cheek and a last one of his birthmark stopping there for a moment. Evan melts against him at the affection and Tommy feels that lump escapes his hold. 

“Have babies with me.” Tommy whispers, tightening his hold around Evan’s waist.

He feels Evan freeze for a moment, his body tensing and Tommy feels his heart pounding against his chest. “W-What?”

Tommy shrugs, faking nonchalance. They promised to be honest in their vows - Evan is his best friend. “I want to start a family with you.”

Evan turns his head towards him, their eyes meeting. There is so much going on behind the blue in his husband’s eyes that he doesn’t know what to pay attention to first. 

“Y-Yeah, okay.”

He inhales sharply, surprised, despite everything. “Really?”

“Tommy, I-I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

“You have?” Tommy’s eyes are wide, a stunned smile peeking through.

“You can’t expect me to-to watch Jee paint your nails crazy colours,” Tommy laughs quietly as Evan taps his fingers over Tommy’s. “And not imagine one of our kids doing the same to you.”

Tommy’s chest feels full. Full of appreciation, of care, of love for this wonderful man in his arms. He presses their lips together in a chaste kiss that he hopes passes along all these big emotions he’s feeling. The smile on Evan’s face when they break apart tells him he knows.

“I want you to sing to our kids.” Tommy confesses.

On cue, Evan’s cheeks blush a deep red. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah,” His tone is unwavering, with the confidence he knows Evan needs. “I really do.”

The younger man’s hand finds the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss that engulfs in the warmth that only Evan can provide. He twists until they are pressed against each other, from shoulder to knee. Evan’s hand moves until it’s cupping Tommy’s cheek, cold metal against his skin feeling comforting, and he is looking down at his husband’s watery and bright eyes.

“So, w-we’re doing this?”

Tommy’s smile widens and he nods, Evan matching his wide smile. “We should probably talk better about this when we’re not babysitting your sister’s adorable as fuck kids,” Evan giggles hiding his face on his chest for a second. His tone softens. “But yeah, I think we are.”

“Yeah,” Evan breathes out, so much love in his eyes. “We’re doing this.” 

As his husband’s thumb rubs across his cheek, Tommy thinks that Evan will make a great father. And, with the light of the younger man’s adoring gaze, Tommy thinks that he might make a good one too.

[7ndipity]

Army of One

Jin x Reader

Summary: You've struggled with depression for a long time, but Jin will never let you fight on you own...

Warnings: angst, depression, mentions of scars but nothing detailed, not proofread

A/N: This is kinda messy, but I’ve been going through some stuff and just wanted to get some of it out, and decided to share it on the chance that maybe it’ll make someone else feel a little better or comforted too. It’s loosely inspired by my favorite Coldplay song of the same title. Love y’all💜

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It was well past midnight, everything washed in grey-blue light, the only sounds that permeated the space around you was the distant white-noise of the traffic outside and the faint sound of your own breathing.

“Hey.” His voice was so soft you could almost miss it, not wanting to disturb the peace around you.

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing up?” He asked.

You shrugged.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You kept your eyes fixed on the window in front of you.

The view over the city had been one of your favorite parts about this place when you’d first moved here, able to sit and watch thousands of tiny lights flicker through the streets below, each one its own tiny universe.

He sat down next to you, careful not to disturb you. “You wanna talk about it?” He asked, already knowing the likely answer.

“Not really.”

He nodded. He knew you weren’t always comfortable sharing what was going on in your mind. He was the same way, it was part of what had made him feel so at ease with you early on, the two of you understood what it meant to communicate without speaking, through half-smiles and quiet hums of acknowledgement. It was for this same reason that you had also made it easy for him to open up, to let the mask fall and show his vulnerable sides.

You had given him a safe place to show his true self, but he noticed that you held back from doing the same, at least in full.

You had told him a bit about your struggles, about the shadows that haunted you, clinging and lurking close, no matter how hard you tried to ignore their cold, clammy grip, waiting to pull you down at the first sign of weakness, but you had tried to protect him from the worst of it. You hadn’t wanted him to know about the days when they won, when you could barely drag yourself from your bed, when everything seemed to fade out as if viewed through fogged glass, close enough to see and hear, but never able to make full contact, the warmth never able to sink in.

The first few times it happened you had tried to hide it, saying you just weren’t feeling well or that you were busy or whatever else was fague enough to sound convincing, at least to you, but Jin was far from clueless.

He’d noticed how tired you were sometimes, the distant look in your eyes, but he hadn’t wanted to pressure you to talk about things you weren’t ready to share yet, you’d only been dating a few months after all, but after your third day of single sentence texts, he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d shown up at your door with food and an overnight bag and the statement that he refused to leave you to suffer on your own.

A statement that had turned into a promise.

“The flowers have started to bloom.” Your voice almost startled him, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I noticed.” He said, watching you attentively.

“It’s spring.”

It’s a simple statement, but Jin understood its underlying meaning. Another winter passed, another year survived.

His hand came to rest over yours where it brushed over the faded marks of the past, reminders of the storms you weathered before and survived.

You’d been through enough autumns, waiting to wither away like the leaves around you, that you had started to believe that they didn’t faze you anymore, until you noticed the tremble in your hands as he held you, reminding you that you were still very much connected to this world.

Do you ever regret it?” You stared down at your intertwined hands, the way his fit so neatly over your own.

“Never.” He said without a moment’s hesitation, with a certainty that you feel reverberate in your chest.

“Even when I’m like this?”

“Especially when you're like this.” He said, leaning closer to lend you some of his warmth.

“Why?”

“Because, you’re worth fighting for.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“You are to me.”

You still struggled to believe it, but that was his truth. If he could, he would go into battle for you, fight till his hands were ragged and bloodied to protect you from the things that hurt you, from the thoughts that ambushed you and tried to lure you away in the middle of the night.

But he knew he couldn’t fight this battle for you, not entirely, but he did the best he could to help you, to arm yourself against the darkness. He gave you his time, his strength, his patience, his love. He would give you everything he could think of, until he feels you revive, until you win.

“Thank you.” He said softly, bringing his face to rest against the juncture between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in.

“For what?” You ask, staring out at the ocean of lights spread below you.

“For staying, even when it was hard." He said. "For fighting for yourself, and for us.”

You said nothing, squeezing his hand as the tears you’ve been fighting back finally began to slip down your face.

He pulled you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as he wiped your face.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

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