#and it has nothing to do with han but of course somehow its all to do with han bc neither lee know or han are individuals

[faunandfloraas]

seeing ppl be like 🥺 i hope lee know has taken the cats away from his parents who they have lived with their entire lives 🥺 so they can stay in an apartment he's about to leave for 6 months to do an international tour 🥺 like. are you stupid or have you never had a pet in your life? ALSO hyper analyzing that mans silly little cat video to figure out if he has them at his house or if his family has moved or if they've gotten new furniture or renovated is fucking WEIRDO behaviour lmao why would any of these guys ever want to share a video of their pets if the result is 2 days worth of people speculating on something thats none of their business in the first fuckin place

[hyunjilicious]

I just read in the making and I absolutely love the idea so much 😭😭 and I was just wondering, how do you think the other members would react?? Or would he keep it a secret from them too? (I can't wait for the next parts!!!!)

SHUT UP THIS WAS SO FUN TO THINK ABOUT!!!!!! He would definitely not hide it from them!! Especially not from Han and Changbin since he's gonna need their help finishing the songgskdsdkjslk warnings: mentions of sex and public sex, felix being a little freak, and yeah... 18+ pls!!!! The post that inspired this or basically Chan fucking you in the studio so he can add you moaning to his solo, and these are the members reacting to it!!!!

Han and Changbin - they’re the first ones to hear it because Chan can’t get any of the other producers involved and he needs their advice and help. And in order to not make things even more weird, he of course lets them know beforehand what they’re about to listen to and let me tell you, they’re jaws are on the floor!!! Changbin can barely process what he’s hearing, can’t contain his smile - he doesn’t really know if he’s cringing or if he’s just impressed with what Chan managed to come up with, but one thing is for sure, he can’t even try to look into his hyung’s eyes at that point. He just listens, smiles and bops his head along to the track, trying to come up with something to say… he fails. Meanwhile Han?? OBSESSED. He loves it. At first, he’s at a loss for words too, but the pure excitement is visible on his features. He can’t even sit down properly, his chair is turned around and he’s kneeling on it, mouth agape as he processes the track inside his head. He’s 100% impressed but, “We need to work on it a bit more, though. It sounds really good but you can easily tell it’s her”

��Really?”

“You’ve listened to it too much” Han shakes his head and ushers Chan to make space for him at the computer. “You can easily tell it’s Y/n. But I got an idea, here…”

Hyunjin - absolutely adores this. He somehow managed to look right past how filthy the whole thing is and is just utterly impressed with how Chris went from just writing a song about someone to actually adding that person into the song, making everything more real and tangible. Just sees the art behind it and lowkey hates he wasn’t the one who thought of it first. Also completely against the sounds being refined any further, he loves the raw feeling of it. But really, he can’t help how mesmerised he is, he’s completely impressed with Chan’s genius and his producing skills and to him this is nothing less than a work of art.

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Too much?” Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, confused. “No, how could it be too much? I think it’s subtle enough to not be the main point of attraction but impactful enough to really bring the song and its message to life. I love it!”

“Really?”

“Yes, really! Good job”

Felix - also loves it, but quite literally in the opposite way that Hyunjin does. What art? What feelings? No, it’s just filthy and he LOVES IT. He’s hella proud of his mate, will definitely high five him. Also can’t fucking contain his enthusiasm, bops his head along to the track, you know, eyebrows furrowed and his lips between his teeth as he listens to it over and over again. 

“Did you fuck her here?” he asks with enthusiasm, pointing at the floor. Then he points to the couch, “Or there?” and then to one of the empty chairs, “There!?”

“Oh my god” Chan laughs, face all red as he doesn’t know whether he should answer the question.

“But you two fucked in this studio, right?”

“You’re crazy!!”

“I’m crazy!?” Felix erupts, slapping Chan’s shoulder and pulling at his arm. “Do you hear yourself, mate? You’re the one who fucked Y/n here!”

“Don’t! Say it like that!”

Felix’s smile disappeared but the mischief was still there in his eyes, “She fucked you? Was she on top?”

“Ok, get out!” Chris, although amused, has had enough, but unfortunately his friend is nowhere near done.

“Ah! I love this-” is the last thing Felix manages to say before he gets pushed out of the studio.

Lee Know - he likes it, yeah, a bit more than he thought he would but has literally no idea how to talk about it. He’s still in shock, keeps looking back and forth between Chris and the screen, as if waiting to hear that it is all a joke. It isn’t. “How did you manage to come up with this??” he’s absolutely astounded. “Y/n knows about it, yeah? I don’t have to kill you or something, right?”

“Of course she knows!!”

“Ok, ok, good” Minho nods and resumes listening. “Cool, cool” he says after a while and but can’t help but burst into laughter in the end. “I can’t believe you’re doing this”

“In a good way or in a bad way?”

“In a ‘you’re insane’ way” he clears, “I knew you were a pervert but this is a lot, even for you”

“I’m not a per-” Chan tries to defend himself but he knows there’s no point in doing that, so he just trails off, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you are” Minho stands to pat his friend’s shoulder before moving to leave the studio. “No problem with that, though. Let me know when it’s finished”

I.n - oh, he finds this so fucking hot but it does shortcircuit his brain a bit. It’s not the recording itself, he’d personally be down to do it himself with their partner, or even go further and film the whole thing but he just fears the song would be interpreted the wrong way. You and Chan haven’t gone public yet, people don’t know you two are in a relationship, let alone the true extent of it; what if they’re gonna get the wrong impression? What if they’re gonna think that’s all Chris wants and cares about, sex. People are mean, he’s worried about that.

“I don’t think that will be the case” Chan sighs, “I wrote a lot of songs and I expressed different sides of me through each and every single one of them. This is just one song”

“Red lights” he dryly says.

“Ok,” Chris chuckles. “A couple of songs-”

“Drive”

“That's-”

“Connected”

“Ok, enough!” he cries, waving his arms to get his friend to stop. “That’s enough, you made your point”

But apparently, it all works in Chan’s favor as Jeongin nods and visibly loosens up. “Now that I think about it, hyung, this is really your style. It does fit your vibe”

“What’s that supposed to mean”

“Just don’t ask her to be in the music video as well and it’ll be fine”

Seungmin - he’s… not a fan. It does sound good, he can agree to that, but he’s reluctant to even get too close to that computer. I feel like he wouldn’t be a fan of PDA in general and this… is just over the top. He’s definitely a romantic, and considers that stuff like this needs to stay between the people involved and no one else. Doesn’t judge Chan for it but doesn’t understand how he could possibly be so chill about hundreds of thousands of people hearing you moan like that either. “So you think I shouldn’t go ahead with it?” Chris asks but Seungmin would be very quick to dispel his worry.

“Oh, no! Not at all what I was trying to say. You just express yourself in a different way, I guess. And there’s nothing wrong with that”

“Is it obscene?” Chan cringes.

“It’s not obscene, no. It’s hot. I just don’t know which one of us is the weird one. You because you don’t mind strangers thinking of Y/n that way, or me because I’d probably want to murder each of them in their sleep if they ever dared think about my girlfriend like that”

[rapunziedameron]

Nym nym, your tags today- 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌 *standing ovation*

*sweeping curtsy* thank you. I think the longer I'm in this fandom, the more angrily passionate I get about defending these films. And make no mistake, there's plenty of things that deserve to be criticized about them - but it pisses me off when people just make shit up that's not there or even accurate to bash on things. Not to be pedant, but jesus if you're going to hate my favorite thing, at least have the decency to do your research and do so accurately.

But the sexism is really where I draw the line. Because I grew up in pre-2015 Star Wars. I remember what it was like, before the Force Awakens, being a girl who liked Star Wars. Your options were Jaina Solo, Tenel-Ka, and Mara Jade before Ahsoka really came in - and I can't remember how well, exactly, Tenel-Ka and Jaina were handled, because I honestly never truly sat down and read things all the way through, I just grabbed what was sometimes available at my Goodwill to read a nd back then it wasn't much, but Mara Jade quite notably (in the most out of character fashion!) is fridged.

(Thanks Karen Traviss)

There was Leia, and Padme, of course. But Padme notably is fridged, also. And so is Breha, and so is Beru. And Mon Mothma has line five lines total and it's handwaved somewhere that she's the leader of the Rebellion but then Madine and Ackbar and Dadonna and Riekan do everything in the films...

(and we deleted the take of Leia going "okay hotshot" and absolutely going for it with Han which would have shut down the consent discourse, and then anything character building for Padme also hit the cutting room floor because it didn't have anything to do with Resident Tumblr Favorite White Boys, Anakin and Obi-Wan)

And Ahsoka felt like a ray of sunshine, but she's also a fourteen year old girl running around in a tube top because she still has to have that midriff so men might pay attention to her, and choose your own adventures at the time were so convinced that girls would never read it, that it has the primary POV character have a crush on her (because I'm betting a lesbian unrequited love was not their goal here). And then, of course, over time she became incapable of criticism, because she's Filoni's special girl and can never do any wrong!

(And her entire existence kind of neatly sidelines Padme from being more center stage of the Clone Wars, and is usually more treated as part of the prequel era trio than Padme does...)

During the lead up to the Force Awakens, I was obsessed with Rey. I knew in my bones, somehow, she was going to be the protagonist. I remember, verbatim, saying that "she's not going to be like Padme and Leia [secondary main characters], she's going to be more like Anakin and Luke" and I remember the wonder and chills I felt watching the lightsaber go to her on Starkiller, sitting there in the theater in December 2015. I still get chills today, because that moment was like the entire world opened up, a whole new galaxy of stories that could be told; at the time, the only other character in things I was obsessed with sci-fi wise, was Natasha Romanoff, who was still pretty badly sexualized/a male gaze object.

Before the Force Awakens, there was nothing for girls who liked Star Wars, who liked sci-fi. It was so bad that Ashley Eckstein had to make her own fucking fashion company, just to make clothes for fangirls so we wouldn't have to shop in the men's department all the time.

Is it a coincidence that after Rey, women in Star Wars became less and less sexualized for male viewers? That Wonder Woman came out a couple years later, or Captain Marvel? We wouldn't have the Ahsoka show, or the Acolyte, I'll guarantee you that. We got here because of the walls that the sequel trilogy knocked down - and that journey was not without flaws, because the same courtesy should have absolutely been afforded to its Black main character, rather than having Finn double his weight as a decoy protagonist and comic relief (I'm glad that tros finally let him stop being the comic relief; I think he was done dirty from the start, because just looking at the building blocks and initial concepts they just never knew what to do with Finn) - but it did drastically change the landscape for science fiction and fantasy.

And it seems to have gone almost entirely unnoticed - fairly recently I saw someone express shock that there was even backlash at the time that the main characters were a white woman, a Black man and a latino man. But I remember the backlash; I still hear the backlash, at least for Rey, fairly constantly IRL. I hear from my dad about how she's a boring mary sue, a flat cardboard box, fairly frequently.

It's also so frustrating because if people can't even acknowledge the progress that the sequel trilogy did for women in Star Wars, I know the conversation will never turn to the progress the sequels made in terms of disability.

And finally. I didn't suffer through panic attacks trying to play Star Wars: The Old Republic because when you play a woman Jedi Knight, one of your main companions (a "hero") is a man who can't take no for an answer and is point blank a constant sexual harasser who has at least one line that's definitely non-con implying as hell, or suffered through Anakin being Like That and being pleased that he's made Padme uncomfortable in Attack of the Clones, for people to tell me that the sequel trilogy is the Star Wars media with a problem with women.

[overdevelopedglasses]

Tojoctober Day 16 - Bond

(I've never felt like this, I'll keep on running)

Alt title is from “Reach for the Stars”, the opening song to Sonic Colors

Nanba has doubts. Ichiban reassures him.

(Nanba drink link + LaD spoilers)

—--------------------------------

It's a rainy day today in Ijincho, as the rain pitter-patters against the windows of Survive. It's a slow day for us too, as we are still used to having not a lot to do. Adachi, Eri, Saeko, Zhao, and Joon-gi Han have gone out to the town, something about a new arcade having opened up. They invited me out too, but I stayed behind. I know my mood is on the sour side today, and the last thing they all need is for me to drag them down. 

There's too much on my mind anyway. My past, Nightingale, my brother. All of them intertwining and making my brain spin. Way too many emotions to process with them, as well. The drink I'm nursing isn’t helping calm the storm either. 

“Hey, Nanba! Thought you went with everyone else?”

A voice pierces through my haze as I look at its source. 

Of course.

Apparently, Ichiban has not gone with the rest of the party, and instead is sitting on the bar stool next to me. When’d he even get there? My mind tries to answer this question, but nothing comes up. I stare at him blankly instead.

“Nanba? Are you doing alright?” he asks, probably with the best intentions in mind. 

“Well…” I start, but then second guess myself. “I feel fine.”

“Don’t try and hide it from your best friend, Nanba.”

I guess Ichiban is my best friend?

“Just… a lot on the mind.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I should feel fine, right?” I spin towards Ichiban, setting my now empty glass on the counter. “I know my brother is safe, Mizue-chan is, well, I’m not sure how to feel about that, and I’ve got you guys. So why…” I hesitate. Did he really want me to admit this out loud?

I see Ichiban and the bartender share a look before he exits the room. What was that about?

“Why do you still feel like shit?”

I feel like there’s a better way to say that, but he was right.

“Yeah.”

“Hey…” I hear his voice take on more of a serious, yet softer tone. It tickles the back of my brain, as he faces me. “I meant what I said before, you know? I've made a lot of priceless friends here, and you're at the top of that list Nanba."

“But what if I hurt you again? Or leave you again?” I say, my voice coming out thicker than normal. Damn emotions.

“Nanba, that's nonsense.” I can hear Ichiban try to reassure me, and it’s kind of working, but I’m starting to get overwhelmed. 

"Ichi-"

Whatever I was trying to say gets cut off by Ichiban placing both hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look into his eyes. 

"Nanba. You are dear and precious to me. Never forget that."

I feel something catch in my throat, and tears are threatening. God, why does this have to happen again?

"Ichiban, you're gonna make me cry again."

Somehow, his gaze both hardens and softens at the same time.

"Good. I already lost a brother. I can't lose you too."

Well, that just sets off the waterworks. Ichiban doesn't seem to care, as he scoots his stool closer and wraps his arms around me. The only thing I can coherently process is that he feels really warm. Like a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time.

Ichiban… feels like home.

[duhdumb89]

A Forbidden Happiness | Chapter 46

Jiayi tried not to be bitter about the fact that The Emperor brought Sixth Prince out of his poor mood. It was logical, of course. For any child born from a concubine, attention from their father could be sparse. When that father was The Emperor, it was next to nothing. While His Majesty spent plenty of time with Xiang pin, Sixth Prince was rarely involved. He was either away studying or already asleep. Jiayi could see in Sixth Prince's glittering eyes how much this exclusive one-on-one time meant to him. He looked at The Emperor like he hung the stars and spat out the moon.

It was a shame that His Majesty couldn't even pretend to feel the same. He couldn't even remember Sixth Prince's age without Zhang Wei gonggong's help. Xiang pin made a good effort to chat with His Majesty about Sixth Prince, but somehow, he pivoted the conversation to talk about himself or her

Even now, as they walked to the training grounds, The Emperor was regaling Xiang pin with tales of the Summer Palace. When Sixth Prince asked if he could go, His Majesty brushed him off with a diplomatic 'We'll see'.

Jiayi would bet her life that Sixth Prince would be spending his summer here in the Forbidden City.

They entered the training grounds, and Jiayi helped Xiang pin climb the steps to the raised dias constructed in the center. There was a long table filled with plates of snacks and cold drinks along with a sturdy shade.

Sixth Prince tugged at Xiang pin's arm as he settled into his seat, "What are we doing here?"

"Just wait a moment," she whispered back.

A sharp whinny echoed through the stable before hooves could be heard on the other side of the arena. Prince Han burst into the stables, perched valiantly on top of a rich brown stallion. It looked nothing like the horses Jiayi had seen in the capital. Its sleek, muscular body gleamed under the sun, and its long, arched neck flowed gracefully into broad, powerful shoulders. It was as if the horse was made for Prince Han. His rich blue riding outfit barely creased as he brought the horse to a standstill. Hiking a long leg over the horse's flank, Prince Han dismounted before dropping to his knees to greet The Emperor.

"Rise," His Majesty replied.

"15th Uncle is here!" Said Sixth Prince.

The Emperor nodded, "Indeed, he is. And he's brought my gift for you."

"My gift?" Sixth Prince gasped.

Sixth Prince's eyes widened with excitement as he looked back at Prince Han, who had risen and was now holding the reins of the magnificent stallion. The boy's mouth fell open in awe as the horse was led forward, its mane and tail rippling like dark silk in the breeze.

"This horse," The Emperor announced, carrying across the training yard, "Was bred from the finest stock in the northern plains. A fitting companion for a prince."

"A horse? Not even 4th brother has a horse yet," Sixth Prince replied, staring up at The Emperor in awe.

"Yifu lacks the discipline for such a thing,"

Sixth Prince smiled at The Emperor wider than Jiayi had ever seen before he knelt down.

"Thank you, Royal Father!"

He jumped to his feet, not bothering to wait for The Emperor's response, and ran down to meet Prince Han.

"Slow down!" Xiang pin called after him, "Jiayi, make sure–"

"No," said The Emperor, stopping Jiayi before she could take a step,

"Yiqiang is a young man now. He doesn't need a maid running after him at all hours of the day. Send your eunuch,"

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Xiang pin as she nodded at Bolin.

Jiayi resumed her task of fanning Xiang pin and, The Emperor resumed ignoring Sixth Prince.

"What do you think, Huifen," said The Emperor, leaning close to whisper in Xiang pin's ear, "Is my gift up to your standards?"

"Of course! I've never seen a horse so beautiful!"

The Emperor wrapped an arm around Xiang pin's shoulder, the other hand grasping her hand, "It's as much of a gift for you as it is for Yiqiang. How could I give him anything but the best when you've toiled to raise him?"

Xiang pin bowed her head modestly. "Raising Yiqiang is a gift, Your Majesty,"

Again, Sixth Prince was forgotten. With a sigh, Jiayi fixed her gaze on Prince Han as he guided Sixth Prince onto the horse, his hands steady and sure. The boy's initial hesitation melted away under Prince Han's guidance, and soon enough, Sixth Prince was sitting tall in the saddle, a broad smile on his face.

"There you go," Prince Han said, his voice warm with encouragement, "Just like that. Keep your back straight and your hands light on the reins. Don't let him scare you,"

Sixth Prince nodded eagerly, his earlier anxiety replaced by a newfound confidence. He glanced back at The Emperor, who watched the scene with an approving nod.

"He's a natural," Prince Han said, looking up at The Emperor, "He'll make a fine rider with a bit of practice,"

The Emperor chuckled, "Perhaps he'll even join us for a hunt one day,"

"Perhaps not so soon, Your Majesty," replied Xiang pin as she pressed a grape to his mouth, "At least wait until the poor boy's lost the rest of his milk teeth!"

Sixth Prince's horse gave a full body shake so fierce that it nearly knocked him askew before Prince Han had the chance to steady him. Prince Han's eyes almost vanished into crescent moons as he and Sixth Prince broke out into giggles.

"I'm going to name him Lightning!" Sixth Prince declared.

Prince Han snorted, "Lightning? Are you trying to pair this horse up with that little dog?"

"Why not? Thunder and Lightning sound good together!"

"This is one of the finest horses in all of the world!" Said Prince Han, "And you want to name it after that fat monster?"

"If you say that again, I'll make her bite you!"

As they bickered, Jiayi fought back a smile.

"Strange," His Majesty said, "I was very clear that the little dog was meant to be your companion, Huifen,"

Xiang pin smiled, "It would be less work keeping the sun from rising than keeping Thunder away from Yiqiang. For such a small thing, she can make such a racket!"

The Emperor leaned close to Xiang pin and whispered something Jiayi couldn't hear. Based on the blush on Xiang pin's face, Jiayi was glad for it.

"I suppose Prince Han's scent pouch is your work as well?" He asked.

"Scent pouch?" Xiang pin echoed, leaning forward to peer at Prince Han, "Oh. That is new, I think. But not my work,"

Jiayi's heart skipped a beat, the silk fan almost flying from her fingers. She tightened her grip, the memory of secreting away pockets of time to carefully stitch the white aster decorating the black pouch on Prince Han's waist flooding her mind. She had even committed a petty theft to stuff it with the highest quality herbs. She had smuggled it out of Chengqiangong a few days ago into Chang daren's hands and eagerly awaited the sight of it on Prince Han. Jiayi thought that he would keep it private like their portraits, but seeing him wear it so brazenly in front of The Emperor made her stomach flutter.

"Look a-niang! Royal father, look!" Sixth Prince cried, dragging Jiayi out of her musings.

Lightning pranced around the yard in a soft gallop, Prince Han holding tight to the lead.

"You look so dashing!" Xiang pin called back, "Hold tightly!"

Even the joy on Sixth Prince's face couldn't distract Jiayi from Prince Han for too long. He hadn't been without a smile from the second he sat Sixth Prince on Lightening. Suddenly, as if feeling the weight of her gaze, Prince Han locked eyes with her, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. Jiayi's heart pounded in her chest, her breath catching in her throat.

The emotions she had carefully hidden away surged to the surface in that fleeting moment—admiration, longing, and something deeper, something she dared not name. Prince Han's gaze softened, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her cheeks flush. It was as if he was speaking to her without words, acknowledging the bond that they shared in secret.

Jiayi quickly looked away, focusing once again on fanning Xiang pin. But the image of Prince Han's warm, knowing gaze stayed with her, sending a rush of warmth through her body. No matter how distant he might seem or how impossible their situation, in that brief exchange, there was a connection that couldn't be ignored.

✺

An pin was an Imperial Concubine. A status that thousands of hopeful women never even came close to achieving, no matter how long they fought to claw themselves out of the mud. And yet here she was, walking to the Imperial Household Department to personally pick up her monthly stipend.

Weiwei held tight to her hand, a worried wrinkle in her brow, "Your Highness, you don't have to debase yourself to the dogs in the Imperial Household Department. I'll go back and demand your stipend. I'll make such a fuss that they won't dare turn me away,"

"No," replied An pin, "I'll do it myself,"

It was insulting, but it got her out of Chuxiugong. It was embarrassing to admit, but technically, Wang chang zai had run her out of there. The older woman was just such a wet blanket. She was still dull, morose, and mean.

To her annoyance, the Imperial Household Department didn't look very busy at all. Nothing was on fire, no one was dead, hell, the courtyard was practically deserted.

"Hello!" Cried Weiwei, "Anyone there?"

Her voice echoed in the wind, the only response being the rustling of the trees.

An pin huffed, "Did a real man come by and scare all the eunuchs away? What is going on?"

"Anyone?!" Weiwei shouted again.

"Coming! Coming!" A eunuch wrenched open the doors and scampered to kneel before An pin.

"Wishing Your Highness peace,"

"Is there some sort of half-man holiday I wasn't informed of? My maid came here to get my stipend, and you wouldn't open the doors! Explain yourself," said An pin.

"Begging your forgiveness, Your Highness!" Said the eunuch, hunching his back, "It's just...the preparation for First Princess's wedding is running the department thin,"

"There are thousands of you! How can one wedding need this much attention?"

"Begging your pardon!" The eunuch said again, "Please come, Your Highness. I'll fetch your stipend,"

As they went inside, Weiwei whispered in An pin's ear, "Your Highness, please calm yourself. Shen huang gui fei might hear,"

"Whatever," An pin muttered as she followed him inside.

Patting the sweat from her brow, An pin watched the eunuch pile her stipend on a silk tray. It made quite an attractive picture. The summer wasn't so far away, so now was the time to request some new summer outfits from the Clothing House. Perhaps she could send an extra bit back home this month for her mother's birthday. There were a few sweets in the capital that she hadn't been able to get her hands on for some time. Maybe she'd use a tael or two to hire a chef.

"Stop, right there," Weiwei hissed, "Are you trying to cheat my mistress? That is clearly not the monthly stipend of an Imperial Concubine! What kind of game are you playing?"

Weiwei was right, her stipend was missing an entire row of taels!

The eunuch slammed the chest of silver shut before falling to his knees.

"Forgive this slave, Your Highness, but this is the decree of Her Highness Shen huang gui fei. To be able to give First Princess the wedding her status deserves and to ease the strain on the royal treasury, Her Highness is temporarily lowering the stipends of all Imperial Concubines and below,"

"Why wasn't Her Highness An pin informed of this?" Asked Weiwei.

"The decree is supposed to go out tomorrow," The eunuch replied.

Before she let out the tirade that was bubbling in her chest, An pin felt Weiwei squeeze her arm and shake her head subtly.

"This concubine is foolish for not understanding Shen huang gui fei's sincerity," An pin said as one of her maids took the money, "I'll personally express my gratitude to her Highness when I get the chance,"

An pin ignored whatever response the eunuch had and concentrated on not stomping away.

"Your Highness," said Weiwei, "You don't actually have to thank Shen huang gui fei. How will that eunuch even know? Let's go back to Chuxiugong. We can finish His Majesty's sleeping clothes and deliver them to Yangxindian,"

"I want to go to the Clothing House and see if there's anything good in stock. I'll only be able to get a few things now but it's better than nothing,"

"Cheer up, Your Highness, Cao taiyi said he's making good progress on his task,"

Some progress was better than no progress, but Cao taiyi was a bit useless. Of course, Wang chang zai had to bend over for an Imperial Physician that was near dirt on the food chain in the Imperial Hospital. He was no spring chicken himself but somehow was only just above a junior physician!

An pin was nearly at the Clothing House when a pocket of faint whispers reached her ears. She paused, signaling for the rest of her servants to stay behind, and followed the murmuring until she was perched outside an archway.

"Apparently, Hu Shi is so dim that he doesn't know what happens in his own manor. My sister said that his first cefujin, Cai gêgê buys prostitutes and passes them off as maids so when she's done with them, nobody bothers to ask any questions," a woman said.

Hu Shi? Wasn't that Huabao's soon-to-be husband?

"Your sister didn't tell you about Giru gêgê? The poor thing's tried to join her late mother three times! But Cai gêgê won't let her because she thinks Hu Shi will blame her!" A deeper voice added.

"Hah!" A nasal voice chimed in, "Shouldn't she take the blame? I heard that when Cai gêgê can't stop Hu Shi from visiting Giru gêgê's chambers, she forces her to drink a contraceptive right in front of her the next morning,"

"Aiya," the first woman said with a sigh, "How will First Princess survive in that hellhole? Cai gêgê is crazy enough to offend His Majesty to ensure First Princess doesn't win!"

"If First Princess is marrying into a kennel, why is Shen huang gui fei so proud? Fuca or no, no connection is worth your child!"

"Hmph! With the way she's behaving lately, it wouldn't shock me if she'd throw 10th Prince to an alligator to be able to tie her rope to a good family,"

"But isn't this alligator too fierce? Didn't you hear about his concubine? She was married into the manor for a year before she "suddenly" died while he was on a surveying trip with his father. She was four months pregnant at the time!"

It took all of An pin's willpower to not explode into laughter. Karma hadn't skipped Shen huang gui fei, it was just waiting to make a statement! And what a statement it was! Shen huang gui fei's precious pearl, who would tie her to one of the noblest families of the Great Qing, was being sent to her death! Huabao was as soft as a cotton bud, unlike her sword of a mother. There's no way she would survive.

"Just talking about this makes me want to get a blessed amulet! Ah, poor First Princess...should we do something about it?"

Any glee that An pin built up quickly drained away. Damn, these bleeding hearts! She turned to Weiwei and whispered, "Bring the maid with the stipend over. As quietly as possible,"

"Pah! And do what? Shen huang gui fei has turned into a beast since The Empress visited to see 10th Prince and 11th Prince. She'd sooner kill us than believe the truth about Hu Shi. She'd say we're trying to sabotage her good fortune to gain favor with The Empress. And then our heads will roll for it!"

"It's not all about Shen huang gui fei! What kind of woman deserves to marry into a place like that? What if we spoke to His Majesty? Or The Empress?"

Weiwei dragged one of An pin's maids to her side, the tray of silver wobbling slightly.

"Your Highness," the girl greeted as quietly as possible.

An pin shoved her into the archway, and the silver taels crashed against the ground.

"You useless thing!" An pin shouted, ensuring her voice echoed through the corridor, "How dare you dirty my things! Pick it up before I wring your neck!"

The corridor the mysterious gossipers were in had two exits on either end. An pin took up one exit, so the group had no choice but to be flushed out of the other.

"Moxin, you idiot!" Weiwei added, catching on quickly, "Pick up the stipend quickly! Or are you trying to curse Her Highness?"

As the maid scrambled to snatch up the taels, a group of women trailed out of the other end of the corridor, just as An pin predicted. She recognized them. They were Shen huang gui fei's nursemaids. Well, half of them. Chen momo, Li momo, and Tan momo. The three women could barely control their fright as they kneeled to greet her.

"Rise," said An pin, "Pardon me, I forgot that voices carry far around here. I hope I didn't disturb you?"

"N-no," Chen momo said, "Not at all,"

"It's us who hope we didn't disturb you, Your Highness," said Tan momo.

"I didn't hear a thing,"

"Oh! Good! We could never forgive ourselves if we bothered Your Highness with our nonsense," said Chen momo.

By now, the maid had finished collecting An pin stipend and was standing at her elbow with the tray in her hands.

"You're lucky that it was me. Even if it was just nonsense, in a place like this, nonsense and treason can sound very alike, right Li momo?"

The momos glanced at each other and nervously wrung their hands.

A pin collected three silver taels and gave one to each momo.

Li momo turned the money around in her fingers, "Your Highness, this is..."

"A gift," An pin responded, "Raising an Imperial heir is no small job, especially two small princes. Maybe one day when I have a child, you'd be willing to share your wisdom with me,"

"Thank you, Your Highness," the nursemaids said.

"We won't forget your kindness," Chen momo added.

"See that you don't," 

[benayoung]

"i'm concerned about everyone. the competition is difficult." (mentioned: @bexstevie @bejaeyoung @beseira )

new year, new survival show, it would seem. this would technically be her fourth, if she can count it, since she's not a contestant this time.

still, sitting down for an interview, in front of a camera again, feels a little like returning home.

she can't help but think of all of the different people she's been in rooms like this one, from the fake happy-go-lucky girl in her first season to the hardened "ice queen" she is today. she actually smiles a little, then looks to the interviewer expectantly.

"what are your first impressions of the talent this season?"

that's a good question, honestly. "they're probably better than us," she admits with a bark of laughter. "that's how these shows always work, right?" from her experience, somehow, new talent always surges upwards and surpasses its predecessors. it frightens her a little, but she doesn't feel threatened by any of the girls this season – at least not yet. maybe she'll see who her ceo selects for sr media and change her mind.

"none of the ceos said they wanted to sign anyone on day one last season, so i think that already says enough," she points out, but she doesn't take it personally.

"what do you think of initial rankings?"

"my job is to coach, not to judge," she says diplomatically. "thankfully." she smiles, close-lipped. will that stop her from judging people? absolutely not. will it stop her from saying anything judgmental in this moment? yes.

"based on what you've seen, who do you think has center potential?"

nayoung pauses in thought for a moment. "i think stevie could be a good center for the boys. his voice and rapping both still need work, but i think his previous experience on next gen shows in his skill level overall. i'm just afraid he was more..." she pauses again, trying to think of how to explain it, "endearing, last season? he's nervous this season, which is good, because it means he cares now. but it's also bad, because i think it's getting to his head. if he can find a way to shake off his nerves and be himself while still taking the competition seriously, he'll be in contention for a high rank the entire season, in my opinion."

of course, nayoung has paid attention, and has a lot of opinions. "song jaeyoung is incredibly well-rounded. if the judges are searching for a center who's good at singing, rapping, and dancing about equally, he would be a good pick. i find that he's missing a certain spark, though. he isn't very memorable to me when he performs, and i personally feel that's important for a center to have."

"as for the female center, i think my top pick is han yura. she's not the most captivating performer of the season, but she's pretty and has no significant weaknesses that i've seen. she's a good rapper, which is important for the center of this season, but she's a solid singer as well, and she's kept up fine with the choreography."

"are there any contestants you're concerned about?"

"i'm concerned about everyone. the competition is difficult," she laughs, and it's both sincere and not. she isn't that concerned – ultimately what happens to the contestants of this show matters little to her. she knows it can be hard on people, though, and she knows they're all inexperienced.

"it's volatile, too. one week you can be in first and the next you can be at the bottom of the rankings," she speaks from experience. "who is having trouble this week might shine next week. it really just depends."

"if we're only talking about this week?"

"if we're only talking about this week, seira comes to mind. she's a skilled rapper, but she's not confident in her dancing, and her vocals........" nayoung has nothing nice to say there. "i don't think she'll be center. i hope she isn't eliminated, though, because while she isn't center material in my opinion, i think she has other things left to show."

"any final words?"

nayoung bows in her seat. "thank you! i'm grateful i got to coach everyone this week and i hope i'm able to continue." she honestly has no idea what the future holds.

[chillingcinemachronicles]

the 5 best action movies that redefine the genre. 💥🍿

5. Enter the Dragon (1973)

Bruce Lee had already released three blockbuster action films i Hong Kong, one of which he directed, before joining Robert Clouse’s international star vehicle for Warner Brothers. Focused on a high-profile martial arts tournament mounted by a suspected crime lord, the film not only gave Lee the perfect platform to showcase the physical and philosophical underpinnings of the Jeet June Do style that he pioneered, but features some unforgettable, inventive action sequences (which he also choreographed). Sadly, its impact on Lee’s career was all posthumous, but “Enter the Dragon” both immortalized him as a star and offered a gateway to martial arts filmmaking that audiences outside of China had not widely

Lights, camera, VPNaction! Elevate your movie nights with NordVPN. 🎥🔒secure your connection and Download NordVPN . Click now to unlock global cinematic thrills!experienced.

4. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

Steven Spielberg and George Lucas put their blockbuster brains together to create whip-snapping, wise-cracking archeologist Indiana Jones. The populist duo tapped into their shared love for Hollywood adventure serials, casting Han Solo himself (Harrison Ford) as the snake-averse adventure magnet. His first outing proved a cinematic roller coaster every bit as exciting as John Williams’ galloping score suggests, from the thrilling opening sequence, which finds Indy one unshaven whisker away from being pancaked by a massive boulder, to the infamous ending, where the treasure he risked his life to rescue gets stored away in a giant warehouse. Who’d have thought he’d still be stealing artifacts from Nazis at age 80, four sequels later?

3. North by Northwest (1959)

Its propulsion, its antic air of lethal gamesmanship, and its vision of a lone man outrunning the forces of fate were, in 1959, shockingly new, rendering Alfred Hitchcock’s classic thriller nothing less than the formal and spiritual progenitor of the James Bond series. But it’s in the legendary crop-dusting sequence where Hitchcock, pushing the envelope of danger, reinvented what cinema could be. As Cary Grant’s Roger Thornhill stands in that cornfield, pursued by a propellor plane he must somehow outrun, a set piece, for the first time, splits off from the movie around it to become its own reality. At that moment the seed of all modern action cinema was planted.

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2. Die Hard (1988)

Bruce Willis bleeds in the course of trying to rescue his wife (Bonnie Bedelia) from Hans Gruber (Alan Rickman) and a gang posing as deranged German terrorists, who’ve seized her Los Angeles office tower during a Christmas party. Seeing Willis crawling through glass, covered in cuts, makes all the difference in distinguishing his character, off-duty NYPD Detective John McClane, from so many steroid-swollen ’80s action heroes: He wasn’t an invincible killing machine so much as an ordinary man in way over his head (audiences loved him in the role, which redefined the comedic “Moonlighting” star as a tough guy, and the label stuck until his recent retirement). By pitting such a relatable protagonist against Rickman’s snarling, all-time-great screen villain, “Die Hard” found a recipe for infinite re-watchability — one whose holiday backdrop has made it an irreverent annual tradition for superfans who can’t get enough of Willis’ yippee-ki-yay antics, whether it’s crawling through air ducts or dropping baddies from upper stories.

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1. The Road Warrior (1981)

In 1979, George Miller’s “Mad Max” was a Hell’s Angels movie gone psychotic. It was made on a drive-in-film budget but became such a global phenomenon that Miller was able to transform the sequel into something vastly bigger, more scary-cool, more grandly nihilistic. One of the great dystopian spectacles, “The Road Warrior” presents the vision of a civilization reduced to patched-together cars and cutthroat survival. The film’s scrappy kinesthetic genius is that it incarnates the very godlessness of that world by turning it into an existential demolition derby. As Mel Gibson’s Max, in his form-fitting wasteland leather, joins forces with a colony of straggling desperados to escape the Lord Humungus and his hooligan horde, the film gets heightened into the most delirious action sequence ever filmed: an epic car chase of jalopies from hell, with nightmare foes like the mohawked punk Wez leaping from their vehicles onto yours, the whole thing so fearsomely sustained it’s like a single combustible jolt of energy. In “The Road Warrior,” action is excitement, it’s destruction, it’s war, it’s the rusty speeding pulse of life itself.

[djemsostylist]

Han has lived around Jedi for 40 years and is still utterly baffled by the Force. He knows it exists of course, he's been around Luke and the kids too long not to, but if he hadn't spent years watching the kids do things that shouldn't be possible and Luke know things he could never have known, he'd swear the entire thing was an elaborate hoax or some sort of long con. The Force exists sure, but there are moments when he wonders if it also somehow just doesn't.

Mirax barely notices the Force. It makes her husband a little more insightful and her children a little more talented, but overall, the Force barely impacts her life. Her husband was a cop and a pilot long before the Force, and as a Jedi he's hardly different from what he was before. The Force exists but it hardly matters, really, in the day to day of her life.

Jag had never wondered about the reason his father had survived ten years as a TIE pilot until the first time he flew with Jaina Solo and he could see the target she'd picked before she'd even picked it. He knows that most people can't understand their partner's intent and meaning without words, that his ability to read his wife and children is not something that most families have (his parents, after all, had always seemed a little too in sync). That he can sense her presence before she enters the room or know what his children are going to attempt before they attempt it is nothing he ever really contemplates--the Force is the Force, and his connection to it--however small--has shaped his life since before he knew of its existence, and it will continue to shape it long after he is gone. It will shape the lives of his children and grandchildren and through them, the galaxy that they will rule when he is gone. The Force is, and it's something he can put into words.

Fic I'll never write: Han, Mirax and Jag's informational video that warns people of exactly what they're getting into by marrying a Jedi, and some expert tips for Dealing With It.

[multiwreckedmess]

Oral Weakness

AANNNND i’m back.

To all the dicks i’ve sucked.

Normally. NORMALLY. I prefer dom idol. but i’m trying to branch out. especially with this series. as per usual it’s not edited, it’s not complete, it’s to help my writers block.

We’ve got Han Jisung from Stray Kids this go around. Obviously this is all fictional not representitive of him all that jazz. c’mon it’s called fan FICTION like it’s not a biography. No major tw, cw under the cut. It’s like...it’s a drabble.

it’s oral folks. nothing but oral.

CW: No aftercare, sub!idol, dom!reader, reader has breasts, no pronouns used, oral [m. receiving], edging, reader calls Han “honey”, open ending

Han Jisung loves feeling his eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back, as he struggles to concentrate on your instructions. They’re simple, of course, easy instructions to say but difficult to follow. 

Don’t touch. Let you do the work.

But he wants to touch, himself and you. He wants to hold your head in place and fuck up into your warm wet mouth. He wants to feel the head of his cock press against the back of your throat, rough texture stimulating him just enough to cum. At this point he’d even settle for being able to touch himself to at least put him out of his misery. He couldn’t decide if the lack of physical restraints made it all somehow more difficult. Physical restraint, physical reminder, automatic reminder. Mental restraint? Needing to remember, needing to stay aware, needing to keep focus. At least with physical restraints he could lose himself but this, this demanded his full presence. 

Ruined climax after ruined climax watching his muscles tense and twitch as you slowed your ministrations. Ending the game would be no fun for him either, pride swelling in his chest with every crumb of praise you throw his way. Because he’s such a good boy. Such a good boy for letting you play with him like this. But he likes to hear it from you. He lives to hear it from you.

He whimpers. Not yet. He can’t come yet.

He doesn’t know what makes it more difficult; screwing his eyes shut and imagining your lips curled into a half smile, eyes peeking up at him to study his expression or seeing your pink tongue carefully tracing the ridges and veins of his shaft, coating him in a messy layer of saliva. EIther way he can’t avoid your voice, carried gently through the air to curl and sink into his ears, burying your words behind his eyes.

“Oh Ji- just a little longer. Just a little longer and I’ll let you cum wherever you like my good, good boy.”

He gasps as his abdomen suddenly releases its hold in preparation, almost veering straight off the cliff and into orgasmic bliss.

You tut at him, hands gliding up his public bone to the top of his squirming hips. “So dramatic! I’ve got you honey. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Han pants and stares at his cock, head turning from bright red to nearly purpleish with the constricted flow of blood. It’s framed perfectly by your breasts on either side, bumping against him. Releasing a strangled groan he shuts his eyes again. He can’t look. He really can’t look. If he looks too long he’ll cum and then he won’t get his reward.

“Where do you want to-?” “TITS.” he blurts out so emphatically it makes you chuckle. “My chest? You like it that much?” “Fu-THIGHS.” He squirms at the thought. Pearly cum streaked across your chest...or dotting the tops of your thighs...he hadn’t even begun to consider internal options. It almost burns as you take him back in your mouth. The sweetest torture of all, the torture of choice. And it’s so hard to focus on choosing when your cheeks are hollowed out around him. It’s hard to focus with your hand working what isn’t in your mouth. It’s hard to focus as your other hand gently cups and rolls his swollen testes. It’s hard to focus when he’s hard. But he has to. He has to choose. “Poor HanJi can’t choose?” You pull him out with a pop, thumb coming up to slip along the slit of his cock, wiping the bead of precum from the tip and working it in circles on it’s head. “Don’t worry honey, I can if you want me to.” “Choose. Please,” Hans hips roil and thighs tense. Eyes closed and lower lip clamped between his teeth he feels you leave his side momentarily to position yourself. “Ji- cum for me. Open your eyes and cum for me.”

[cleyellow-wood]

a/n: inspired by nerves by dpr ian and today’s chan’s room bc he played dpr ian today heh. love confessions, and all that :) 

[7:23 AM]

“hi, how’re you doing?”

it comes out awful, jagged, and wrong from his mouth, and he winces saying it. you frown around your lemonade, and chan has the feeling of standing backwards on the edge of a cliff, his heels dangling precariously on nothing.

“i’m good. happy.” you humour him and it makes him smile to himself, looking into his glass of water. their pastries lay between them, untouched. he wonders if your stomach is as tumultuous is his, but his can be attributed to the fact he’s in love with you. and yours could be because of how shitty he’s been to everyone around him. “you?”

“i’m fine.”

“oh, that’s good. i worried.”

“worried? about me?”

“of course. i care about you, you know. and you’re such a hard worker. the last few weeks, you’ve been stressed, but i didn’t know how to, y’know... i thought it was best if i just stayed away.” your nails tap the glass and you look aside, searching for words. chan’s hands come fully around his own glass, and although, his throat is dry, he doesn’t think he can pick up his water without dropping it. 

“i’m sorry,” he says because it’s all he can say without saying how many times he laid awake, remembering that night he read those messages you sent him. messages he read too late, and han read right on time. how, many times, he wanted to run to you these past few weeks, only for you to have disappeared from his life as quickly as you’ve appeared in it.

you scratch at your wrist. “so, did you need something?”

and chan wants to be polite. he wants to somehow carefully segue into what he really wants to talk about like how he weaves a song together from nothing, but the panic that he’s welled up inside him since the staff had told him you already began to pack your bags to leave overtakes his tongue. 

“i heard you were leaving.”

if you’re surprised, you don’t show it. “yes. the project is over. i don’t have a reason to stay any longer.”

a stupid voice in his head wants to ask, not even for me? but chan had thrown away his chances like coins into a fountain, and now you’re sitting across from him, shifting because he is the one making you nervous.

the one person you proclaimed could never make you uncomfortable.

he wonders if you said goodbye to everyone else and avoided him on purpose. if it hurts like this, like swallowing glass, awkward and agonizing, half of him wishes he let you run away.

“i hope you had fun in korea,” he finds himself saying. “and that you come back soon. the kids and i will miss you.”

your expression flickers from its controlled neutrality, and for a moment, he sees the wistfulness in your eyes at the mention of the others. 

“it was nice meeting them. i’ll miss them, too.” unexpectedly, his eyes begin to burn at how your face softens as the memories flood your head, and chan looks down into his water, trying to fight the way his chest is clotting up.

a thousand apologies bubble up inside him, but when he tries to speak, a strange noise gets caught up in his throat and his face burns.

“sorry,” he utters.

“drink some water.”

he stares at you as you busy yourself with one of the pastries. it’s a sight he’s seen so many times before. the sun is slanting onto their table, and the sound of the early risers on the streets is nothing but a low murmur. in the winter, there’d been nothing but silence as their company. in the spring, people came with them. seungmin, or changbin. felix. hyunjin with his camera capturing an angle like it was your last and you’d be whisked away from them without a moment’s notice.

and now, this probably is the last moment, and hyunjin isn’t here.

“do you want some?” you ask, ripping the tail end of a croissant off. 

he barely remembers to say yes.

they stick to menial subjects: how’s the album coming along? the project’s done, but when will it be out? oh, the concept photos looked interesting. chan’s eyes stop burning, but he avoids looking at you. you’re not too interested in him either, your lemonade slowly disappearing between your lips, the fruit tart that had accompanied the croissant slowly reduced to nothing more than crumbs. 

he feels so incredibly tired.

“this was probably the most memorable trip i’ve ever taken,” you say suddenly, and he glances up at you, “and i’ll always look at the photos i took with a smile.”

“what was your favourite part?”

“i don’t know. i experienced so many new things. the food, lotte world.” that makes him crack a smile. you cross your arms on the table and lean forward. “the people and the music.” you hesitate, and you look from their empty plate, to him, and chan’s heart quickens at the softness there. “i fell in love here and that makes this place even more beautiful.”

his stomach cramps. he shouldn’t have eaten at all. “fell in love?”

“mhm. it might sound stupid, but i think that’s part of what makes leaving so hard.”

“you don’t have to. i heard your boss said you could take the open position in seoul.”

your smile trembles. you look out at the street. “no,” you say. “i couldn’t.”

“why not?”

“because it hurts too much to be here.” you look like you’re fighting something, and chan’s eyes begin to burn again. he clears his throat, and it does nothing but make the bruising sensation in his throat worse. “as much as i loved living here, i fell in love with someone here and i think that trumps anything else.”

instantly, chan’s brain runs through the possibilities of who it could be, and compares each one to himself. was it bambam? or yugyeom? god forbid, it’s one of the kids and chan has to fight himself to keep silent. 

it’s moments before he can speak again, and he manages to keep his tone steady. “you never told me that.”

“i know you said it’s a bad idea to fall for an idol, so i felt bad because i didn’t listen to you,” you remind weakly. “like you said, most of the time, they’re not even real. but i think the guy i fell for was real.”

“and does he know?”

“no. i don’t think so. we used to see each other a lot, but recently, i think he doesn’t like me anymore.”

“you should’ve told me. i would’ve helped you.”

“i don’t think...” you laugh shakily and sit on your hands, leaning forward. your bottom lip snags on your teeth, and chan wants to reach forward to touch your mouth. “i just don’t think he likes me.”

“why not? they’d be stupid if they didn’t.”

a chuckle. “you really think that, huh.” pained and short and soft: “chan?”

his eyes lift from your mouth to your eyes. his throat goes dry. “yes?”

“i don’t want you to worry about it, okay? it doesn’t matter anymore. i’ve sort of accepted that he doesn’t love me since he pushed me away. it’s better if i stay away.” your eyes meet his, tired. “i don’t want to distract him, you see. he has an album coming out soon, and i think it’s probably a sign that i don’t exactly fit in with his lifestyle, if you understand.”

and he understands. 

chan has never been stupid. far from it. the ground drops from underneath his feet as soon as it sinks in what exactly you’re implying. he thinks of the past three weeks, of every time he’s run to you, to find you busy with something else, talking to someone else, doing something else. there was always an excuse, and he thought you hated him. that you had wanted to meet new people, had grown sick of him. but he also knows how ungrateful he’d been. how clipped his answers were when all you were trying to do was help him on top of your own workload. 

he doesn’t know why he decided to ignore you when you were standing right there. he doesn’t know why he couldn’t work harder to just fix himself for you. he knows that you deserve better than what you’ll get from him, but he can’t help himself from chasing after you. he just can’t let someone like you—someone who chooses to stay—go. him being here, calling you until you agreed to meet him at a café, is proof of all of that.

“i should go.” you rise, and chan shoots to his feet, too. you clear your throat, grabbing your bag, and step out into the street. a car drones past, and you watch it go as he tugs at the string of his hoodie, sidling up to face you. 

they stand a foot apart, but it is a thousand yards. his heart has plummeted to his feet and he feels like he’s stepping all over it as his shoes scuff the sidewalk. you don’t look at him, hand gripping your bag tighter, and chan’s head aches at the idea of never seeing you again. of realizing too late.

you have to know. you have to know he felt the same way all this time—

“(name),” he says, and your eyes flit to him. as soon as their eyes meet, your gaze drops, and what’s left of his heart is crushed into dust. “he loves you, too. i’m sure of it.”

you frown, and not even your head turned can hide that away from him. “don’t try to be funny.”

“i know he loves you,” he promises. he reaches out slowly, and his fingers stall before they can touch your cheek. you stare at his reaching hand, before stepping back, head dipping. he swallows, fingers curling into a fist that he lets hang by his side. “he loves you more than he thought was possible.”

“you’re lying.” “why would i lie?”

“i don’t know. because you’re trying to make me feel better. because you do that.”

“i would never lie to you. please. look at me.” you don’t move, and he shuffles closer. your head jerks up to meet his gaze, and he cocks his head, leaning forward. “you distract me in the best way, and i don’t... i don’t want you to leave.”

your gaze burns. “it doesn’t feel like it. you hate me.”

“i could never hate you. i’ll prove it.” “when?” you challenge spitefully. “we’re out of time. i have to go home and present the project to the execs and receive my new assignment. i don’t have time to just... entertain you.”

“i’ll make time. i’ll carve out hours of my day for you. i’ll show you for as many days and nights as it takes to convince you that i’m in love with you. just come back as soon as you tie up your loose ends back home and i’ll make sure i apologize every single day.”

“chan.”

his heart wretches and rots as he begs, “just three days. if you don’t want to be with me after those three days, i’ll leave you alone.”

“you want me to fly across the world back here for three days for you?” you repeat, and he bites on the inside of his cheek, wincing. it’s a hard ask especially for professionals like them. chan thinks for a second you’ll step away and out of his life right then and there. after all, this is him asking for another chance—one that he himself doesn’t think is capable of existing.

he tries to come up with an adequate answer to your question in the meanwhile as if that’ll help his case. does he want you to fly across the world for him? no. no, that would be selfish and not productive on your end. chan wants you to be the most successful and happiest you can be above all else. so the question must be does he believe he can make you happy?

and the answer, in his brightest hour is yes. yes, he can, and he wants to give them a proper chance so he can prove it.

he opens his mouth to say as much, but you beat him to the punch.

“okay,” you agree. he blinks, staring at you, and your body seems to relax into your spine, your entire countenance shifting. your eyebrows draw together, and your eyes fix on him with curiosity. curiosity and sorrow. “okay.”

“okay?”

“i’ll have to figure out the vacation days i can take off,” you say. “but okay.”

“really?” his heart lurches up into his chest, lodges right underneath his larynx like an uncomfortable ball of anxious energy. “i don’t deserve this, but i promise, i’ll do my best to make this worth it for you.”

“i know you will,” you answer him softly. “i really do have to go, though, so this is goodbye.”

he shakes his head. “it doesn’t have to be.”

“then, i’ll see you later,” you propose, and he cracks a small, shaky grin as you reach out to hold his hand. his fingers curl tighter around yours instantly like you are the only thing keeping him from drifting away, and you are. he’s going to miss you more than he thought you would when he first saw you for the first time walking into their green room eighteen months ago. “make sure that guy stays in love with me.”

“as long as you don’t get over him.”

“it’s impossible, i think,” you say. “i’m in love with him, too.”

leave a reblog or comment if you enjoyed! :)

[geniously-hacked-bebop]

A Valentine's Surprise

Pairing: Jumin Han x Reader (NSFW/18+ only/MDNI)

Warnings: cockwarming, rough sex, choking, hair pulling

AN: Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I was not planning on having anything ready for today, but somehow this happened in a sleep-deprived stupor and I'm weirdly happy with it??? Anyways, enjoy some good ol' Jumin smut!

Every year for Valentine’s Day, you and Jumin always did something special and typically pretty over the top knowing how he likes to surprise you. However, this year with the holiday landing on a Monday, a day where you both had to work, it really put a damper on any sort of concrete plans. Sure, of course you would go out on the weekend to celebrate early, but you still wanted to surprise him on that day.

After living together for several years, you have come to be very familiar with how meticulous and organized Jumin is. Everything in his own space has its spot and very rarely strays from that location, especially in his home office. A computer with a keyboard in the middle, a notepad slightly to the right of it with pens lined up next to it, a small lamp on the left corner and a pillow for Elizabeth the Third to sit right in front of the lamp. Without fail, once he got home and greeted you, he would go to his office to finish up any last minute paperwork before allowing himself to relax with the love of his life. This information made it very easy to plan every step of your Valentine’s surprise to make sure it goes exactly how you pictured it in your head.

You managed to somehow get off work earlier than he did for once and beat him home, where you immediately rinsed off the grime of the day. Robe wrapped loosely around your still damp body, you made your way over to your giant shared walk-in closet and went straight for the outfit you had been planning for this moment. A short red dress that was form fitting on the top, but had a cute little frilly skirt on it that barely covered your ass. While you were slipping this on, you heard Elizabeth run from the bed in your room into the main area, a tell-tale sign that Jumin was home from work. He called out a quick greeting before he rushed into his office, just like you knew he would. Patting down the skirt and taking a deep breath as you felt butterflies begin to fill your stomach, as if you were dressing up for a first date and not for the man you have been married to for years now, you make your way quietly to where you knew he would be sitting.

He always looked somewhat otherworldly sitting in his large leather chair behind the dark wooden desk in his office. Sometimes looking at him in this setting made you realize the position he was in and how wild it was that you had the opportunity to meet someone like him, let alone fall in love with and end up marrying. It was hard to wrap your head around how the adorable man who falls asleep on the couch while reading books about vampire lore, with his cat curled up on his chest, is also someone who is incredibly high up in his field.

He looked up briefly, running his eyes down your form and gave you a smile before turning his eyes back to his computer, “you look beautiful my darling, did you dress up like that just for me?”

You walk closer to his desk, going around the right side and placing your hands on it so you could lean closer to him, “I did! Do you like it?” you ask as you do a little spin for him, careful to make sure the skirt didn’t go up.

“Of course I do, you always look breathtaking,” he says as he takes one of your hands and kisses it, bringing a light flush to your cheeks, “I’m so sorry but I had to finish up one last thing before I could greet you properly.”

“No need to apologize, I understand! Is it alright for me to keep you company while you do that?”

He pats his desk, signaling for you to sit, “I would love nothing more,” he answers with one of his smiles he only gives you, his eyes softening with the rest of his face while he looks at you with all of the adoration in the world.

You take a look at his desk to make sure everything was how it normally was. Pens on the right, next to his notepad, exactly like you knew they would be. Putting one hand down to pretend to lift yourself onto his desk, you feint your hand slipping and “accidentally” knock one of his pens onto the floor.

“Oh! I’m so sorry honey, let me pick that up,” you say as you turn your back to him and bend over from the waist to grab the pen on the ground, feeling the short skirt ride up as you did so. You knew he saw your surprise for him when you heard his breath catch and felt his strong hands grab you by the waist to pull you onto his lap, flush against his chest.

You could feel his lips brush against your ear as you hear his deep voice come out in a breathy whisper, “no panties huh?” his hand starts running from its place on your waist, down to your inner thigh, “is this what you had planned all along?”

As soon as you nodded your head in response, his fingers expertly spread your folds and started rubbing circles around your clit slowly. “You couldn’t even let me finish my work first? That’s how needy you are for me?”

You let out a whine in response, to which he stopped his movements, “use your words and answer me princess, I know you can.”

“Yes, yes! Please Jumin,” you can hear the desperation in your voice, and moan in relief as his fingers continue what they had started before.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” his voice sends shivers down your spine as he picks up the pace. “I do need to finish what I was working on before you decided to interrupt me though, maybe you can help me out until I’m done?”

You gulp and nod your head, he removes his hand from the mess you were beginning to make and taps your leg gently to have you stand up. Confused, you turn your head to see him unzipping his slacks and sliding them and his underwear down just enough to where his cock sprung free. You could feel the heat rising in your body at the sight. One of his hands finds its way back around your waist to pull you gently back onto his lap, while the other is wrapped around the base of his member, guiding it to slip into your warm, wet walls until he was buried to the hilt. You let out a gasp as you felt the stretch of him entering you and resting right at your most sensitive spot.

“Now stay just like that for me until I’m done, if you’re good then I might give you what you really want,” he whispers as he kisses your neck, making you squirm ever so slightly.

He gets back to his work like normal, as if your pussy wasn’t stretched around him, flexing his cock every once in a while just to make you jump so he could scold you for not holding still while he was trying to work. You could feel yourself becoming a slick mess around him, trying to follow his command, while also being even more desperate for this man to fuck you properly already.

After what seems like forever, he finally logs off of his computer, barely giving you enough time to process that he was done before he stood from his chair without warning, forcing you to find your footing quickly. Bending you over his desk with a hand at the small of your back to keep you down, he leans forward, chest pushing down against your back, pressing you further onto the desk as he gets closer to your ear.

“You were so good for me my love, now let me give you your reward,” he says, standing back upright, pulling himself from your wet heat before slamming back in, making your body lunge forward from the impact.

You can feel moans being pulled from your body and echoing throughout the room with every thrust of his hips against yours, each time his dick hitting the deepest parts of you, knowing exactly how to make you feel good. His hand runs up through your hair, grabbing it at the base and using it to pull you up, causing your back to arch as he leans your head against his chest, moving his other hand to wrap around your throat and choke you lightly as he uses it as leverage to quicken his pace.

The constant pounding of that spot deep inside you along with the slight lightheadedness that came from his hand around your neck had you hurtling towards your finish faster than you thought was possible. With a scream, you plunge over the edge, your pussy throbbing and pulsing around him, practically milking his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm. With how wet and tight you were, he was soon to follow, hips stuttering and filling you to the brim as he came deep inside you with a deep groan of his own.

He pulls his softening cock from your walls and turns you around to face him, pulling you into a deep, heated kiss, holding you flush against him.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his, “Happy Valentine’s Day Jumin,” you say, letting out a soft giggle.

“Happy Valentine’s Day my love,” he smiles back at you before moving to sweep you up into a bridal carry, kicking his pants off from around his ankles. His soft smile turns into a smirk as he goes to walk you both towards the bedroom, “but don’t think I’m done with you just yet.”

[danikavasile]

hanxjun​:

ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

Following the soft instructions, Minjun forced air into his lungs, making ragged, pitiful noises as he continued to swallow the sterile air. It did nothing to comfort or aid him in any way, but again, he did not want to disappoint Danika further. He had already embarrassed himself enough, and whatever inkling he’d had that he was somehow winning this appointment flew out the window. He was failing. Miserably, at that.

He couldn’t even perceive the shock of cold that hit him as the rag touched his heated skin. He felt like a ghost in his own body, staring at the doctor without truly being able to look at her.

And yet, the moment the marble is placed back in his hand, Minjun feels a sense of calm wash over him, and his base, most feral instincts settle back and away until he’s just Minjun. Unassuming, unperturbed Minjun who continues to flush a bright red and can’t make eye contact with his doctor out of shame.

Yes, he hadn’t been able to help it, but he wished he hadn’t acted like a cornered animal. He had lived too long to feel such fear, but that fear had been what kept him safe for all his time existing.

It was hard to put into words just how empty he had felt the moment he had been parted from the bead. The thing didn’t have a drop of energy left in it, and yet it still made him feel more whole. Maybe it was a panacea, or a placebo, or his mother’s memory.

He didn’t want to address her acknowledgment of his condition because it felt too personal. Which was basically the whole point of him being here, but still. He wasn’t quite ready to come to terms with that fact just yet.

"I should be the one apologizing, you did nothing wrong. I do sincerely apologize for my behavior. I was just… alarmed.”

A startled laugh erupted from him, because of course she was used to dealing with the dead. And it was all so ironic, a doctor who made her living in death, just to turn around and prolong the lives of those who already lived forever. If he wasn’t so scared of her, he would try to make a joke about that.

“And that—” at the mention of the marble, he fidgeted with it in his hand for a moment. If he had any sort of sense, he would swallow the thing right back up, but for a multitude of reasons, he could not find it in himself to do so just yet. “Is correct… but it should be a non-issue, right? I mean… I’m still one of your patients that’s alive… after all…?”

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Danika waves away his apology. The over-six-hundred-year-old vampire has seen so much gory death and gruesome disease that nothing bothers her anymore. His outburst piques her interest more than it disturbs her. He's presented her with a mystery, a medical one, and she finds it hard to let go. 

"It appears that we disagree on what constitutes a 'non-issue.' However, I am an epidemiologist, not a therapist, and my role as the Guan's physician is limited to ensuring its employees are able to perform their duties. That being said, I am concerned that whatever is happening to you will eventually render you unable to work. Or live.” She stares at him. “In my professional opinion, Mr. Han, this will only get worse." 

She propels her stool backward with the toe of her high heel, rolling to the computer. "This incident will be noted on your record.” She scrolls down his chart. “Do not fret. It will have no real consequence. Its primary purpose is to serve as insurance claim evidence in case you decide to order additional tests or consult with a specialist. But of course, you are in charge of your healthcare and have the right to refuse further treatment." She turns to look at him once more. Her face is serious. "The choice is yours. You have a blood test scheduled for today, so I will collect a sample for lab analysis, but otherwise, you are free to go. Please let me know how to proceed. If you are indeed determined to make this a 'non-issue,' I will take the blood sample and not say anything further about your condition.”

Her expression softens moderately. “However, I have a sense that you must be genuinely concerned about whatever is happening to you; otherwise, you would not have reached out to me."

[missinghan]

you came into my life (just like another season) ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : fluff; angst; hurt/comfort

❖ word count : 4,4k.

❖ warning : swearing, mentions of death, killing, implied suicide. 

❖ summary : one scarf. two hearts. three confessions. four seasons. or alternatively, jisung will love you throughout every season until you learn to love yourself. 

❖ author’s note : i’m busy preparing for finals but here’s a small piece for the new year so no one forgets me...i hope y’all didn’t, at least not yet. anywho, take this as my token of gratitude for 2021, i appreciate you all so much ♡

i. winter —

The school bell chimes. Five minutes later, you’re pushing yourself through the hall to get to the student council’s office. Plenty of ‘see you’ are echoing back and forth, some in your direction so you struggle as hard as you can to reply. 

Chaos settles once the school empties out. Someone catches your eyes, then. A boy with a red scarf around his neck. 

“Yo, Jisung,” you inquire with a slight jerk of your body because you can’t physically wave with the bulky box in your arms. It’s full of papers about upcoming Christmas events—you’re not dropping any of that. 

Jisung waves back and you’re half-expecting a cheeky smile from him—there’s none. Something restrains you from frowning. He just woke up so the fever might still be there, you don’t want to push him. His hair is a disbelieved mess, his blazer crooked on his shoulders. His face is redder than usual, too; it’s more noticeable with that red scarf. 

“Thanks for bringing me to the nurse’s office...and eating lunch with me.“ Jisung scratches his nape as if your existence alone causes him distress. “Do you uh- President, do you remember what I told you in there?”

“You don’t need to call me that,” you sigh, not certain what kind of face you should be making. “And I do remember. I mean...I can’t say that I’m not flattered to hear that as your friend—“

The rest of your own sentence fades into the background and whatever remains is ‘friend’. You just let it slip out unconsciously, without knowing. It doesn’t taste wrong on the tip of your tongue. Yet you’re becoming as flustered as when he said it in the nurse’s office. 

You’re not one of those people who usually stand awkwardly by a corner during breaks, watching students trail in and out of class with their group of friends. It’s actually the contrary; there are hordes of students crowding your personal bubble most of the time. A favor, a request, a complaint—the list goes on. You do know people, you just don’t associate yourself with them. 

Hence, you’ve never experienced any domestic things that a group of friends would do, let alone being told that. 

“I didn’t mean it as a friend,” Jisung interrupts your thoughts. 

“...Huh?”

He freezes for a moment, breath hitching as if trying to collect himself. His dark bangs fall over his eyes when his gaze traces the floor. “Of course, I like you as a friend. But what I was trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he exhales. “In a romantic sense.” 

You blink. “For real?” Even you feel offended by your own response. For real? Is that all you can say? What the hell?

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung. I just don’t feel the same.” You put on the mask of nonchalance that’s used to deal with people. Usually, it feels all too natural but somehow, guilt is nipping at your throat. 

Jisung breathes out. Then he shudders like something has just iced his spine. His shoulders quiver and his hands spasm. He lifts his head to face you with eyes that are bright with tears and a smile worthy of its own sun. 

“Well, I can’t accept that.”

Winter has gotten colder than last year. You find yourself staring across the street at night, looking at Jisung’s window. No yearly obnoxious holiday decorations, no light, no family dinner invitations. Nothing. 

Right before the stars leave the skies, you catch yourself not falling asleep at all. 

You might not meet him again. 

ii. spring —

“I’m in love with you.”

“Jisung, we’ve talked about this already.”

Never mind that. Han Jisung is way too persistent. Or terribly stubborn. Either way, you’re a bit concerned about him. 

There comes Jisung around the corner, again. The same exact spot from one month ago with the same confession, bed head uncombed and a red scarf around his neck. This time around though, he pouts, “I already told you. I can’t accept that!”

A stiff finger rests on your temple. “You’re making this dif- I mean, it’s not like I can help it.” 

His features soften as he notices how you rephrased yourself midway—you can’t bring yourself to hurt him no matter how nonchalant you appear to be. “And I can’t help being in love with you, even if it makes things difficult.” 

“Hey,” you deadpan. “I’m trying not to hurt your feelings here.” 

Jisung takes a step toward you. “Why are you so hell-bent on the fact that someone is in love with you?” He looks tired, you notice. Face too wan, cheeks too gaunt. Still a smile worthy of its own sun. You almost find yourself squinting. 

“It’s-well.” You halt, pressing a hand against your forehead. This shouldn’t go on any longer. You won’t let him. It shouldn’t have happened to begin with. “Do you wanna go and sit somewhere?”

You lead him to the school’s backyard where there’s a cage of bunnies. A trail of footprints leads up to the metal gate and then stops. There’s a warm outline left behind as if someone has sat in place and stared at the furry bunch for hours. 

“Sit, sit,” you clear your throat. “Please.”

Dumbly, Jisung sits on the second step of the porch with you. The two of you fit yourselves into the outline, shoulders pressing against each other. He’s cold, you notice again. 

Winter has been frost-locked. Leaves, blades, and sheaths of tender green come forth, dripping with the soaking rain and cooling breeze. Yet it shouldn’t be cool enough for him to catch a cold. 

“So?” A soft laugh. “Your answer?”

You clasp your fingers together tightly when your back straightens. Then, you lower your head to your hands, exhaling, “That’s a loaded question. Can’t we do small talk first?” 

Jisung stares at you, his chest numb and his breaths oddly inaudible. Here you are, the one he loved, loves, and will love always. Sitting under the soft sun like you’re both going on a fucking picnic, all nonchalance, and unbothered looseness. Something about this indignity makes him sick. 

He’s missed you. 

“We can’t,” he says, voice too loud for his own ears. His brain barely registers a hand reaching out until his fingers touch yours, pulling them away from your face. 

You startle away like it’s an instinct, eyes wide. “Right, right. Sorry, I’ll just-“ A sharp inhale. “It’s...I think- I still can’t believe it.”

“Come again?” He tilts his head, confused. 

Your lips move stutteringly, a chuckle creeping up your throat without any real humor. “About the fact that you said you’re in love with me. Come on now, really? As if anyone could fall for me.”

“Wow, that’s cruel.” Jisung narrows his eyes at you, features distorted with faint anger. Rather than unconvinced, he looks more...insulted as though you have rejected his existence altogether. Before you can blurt out another apology, he continues, “...you hate yourself a lot more than I thought you did. That’s a bit of a shock if I’m being honest.”

He knows that you never apologize wholeheartedly anyway. 

You look at him then, simply staring. His voice reverberates all around the walls that confine the tangled mess called your mind. Something seeps in deeper, sparks, flickers, and burns. Fury, Jisung can see it clearly. 

You are absolutely furious with him, in a way that you know he’s right and that he didn’t need to state the fucking obvious aloud. “This is so stupid. What do you even like about me?” You turn away, not being able to bear your own reflection in his glassy eyes. 

Jisung inhales but you interrupt him. 

“One after another...you’re all just the same. People are always flattering me with all sorts of different words. I never know who they’re speaking to, really, because I’m not like that at all. Even though they don’t see me as anything more than the title ‘student’s council president’, they just naturally convince themselves that I’m a good person.”

Jisung can’t help but recoil. Yeah, he’s heard worse, seen worse, done worse, but this is you. The one that he loved, loves, and will love always.  

“Making things up about me. Approaching me as you please. Becoming disappointed in me. And then leaving me all alone like I’m a fucking joke.” You face him with a smile—it feels stiff on your face. “You’re just like that too, aren’t you, Han Jisung?” 

Silence falls again and for a while, you both sit unmovingly. You catch a glimpse of yourself in his gaze—what you’re afraid of the most is right there. I’m...really hideous. 

“Fine, you gave me no choice,” he deadpans, the single word hitting against your eardrums. 

A resounding ‘thud’ and your head thrashes against cement. You gasp, the ache throbbing, “What are you—!”

Jisung grips at your collar with fire dust swirling in his eyes as his knuckles turn into an exasperating shade of white. He slams you against the wall again. It hurts. He closes in on you, “You want to know so badly?” 

Rather than a wince, a confused noise leaves your lips. 

“Truth is, I have always hated you.”

You don’t know what kind of face you’re making anymore. 

“Surprised? You should have known,” he jerks the grip and yanks you toward him. “We’ve been with each other since we were kids. Who do you take me for? A fool?”

“That’s not-“

“True? Then tell me, why can’t I get close to you for the past ten fucking years?” Jisung gropes the uniform even more tightly, not giving in no matter how much you’re struggling and kicking him. 

“You use people’s fake kindness to your advantage. You look down on others. You’re unbelievably arrogant. Yet you have no regard for yourself whatsoever. Can’t you see, you have a really nasty personality! The only reason why nobody ever cares about you for who you are is that you have never tried to see people for who they are, idiot!!”

For the first time in over a decade, you falter. “Shut up.” 

“No, I’m not finished-“

“Shut the fuck up and let me go.”

“I can’t.” 

You scream, the sound strangled in your throat, “Why?!”

“Y/N, you might not realize this but you’ve always seemed so fragile. I...I’m afraid if I let you go, you’ll shatter forever and I won’t be able to see you again. 

The time you wordlessly hold each other’s gaze is only a second or two but it feels like minutes. Hours. A whole goddamn lifetime playing behind your mind where you’re too powerless to do anything but gawk, reeling in shock. 

Fuck, you want to let the hurtful sound slip. 

“I can’t believe you just said something so corny with a straight face.” You shove his shoulders yet he stays unmoving. 

Jisung missed this, so much that he nearly cries when he finally gets to touch you. Yet he chalks it up because the sensation of your trembling form is so overwhelming, so real and raw. He hasn’t truly felt someone else’s touch in—in—

“You know, you’re making a really pathetic face right now,” he breaks into a smile. With a pull, you collapse completely into his arms. It’s an awkward hug, with your arms hanging on the sides and your knees knocking against his. 

You take back a choke. “You—you.” 

What’s wrong with you? You can’t even speak. 

Suddenly, a small sniffle broadcasts itself right into your ear. “I’m not crying, just so you know, I’m fine,” Jisung draws a shaky breath. 

“You should have just said it if you wanted a hug.” 

Another sniffle. “Are you sure it’s not you who wanted a hug?”

“Right,” you breathe a warm chuckle into his neck. “So what if I wanted a hug?”

“I’d say, tough luck,” he says and immediately contradicts himself by embracing you closer to his heart. 

iii. summer —

The heat makes you want to scream. 

You want to scream and sprint to the sea, flinging off your shoes without care because you realistically can’t do that to your responsibilities. You want to run towards the heaving waves and jump with each tiny trickle with the excitement of a five-year-old. 

Instead, there’s something else that makes you jump. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

The sight of him alone pains you. “Go away.” 

Jisung shows up again, this time at the student’s council office, where hardly anyone comes and leaves beside you during summer, by the way. With the same winter uniform, his stupid red scarf, and a smile worthy of its own sun. He closes the door briskly. “You know I can’t accept that.”

“Get out. Now.” 

“Sorry, no can do,” he decides cheerfully and takes a seat without asking for your permission. 

You snap, “Get out of my fucking sight!!!”

“My my, the president is cursing and acting indecently.” 

The binder in your hand zooms across the room. It aims for the target—Han Jisung’s pretty visage—and is ready to land on the mark to earn a satisfying scream from the victim. 

“Ack—!!!” He dodges it by a strand of hair, however, every color possible drained from his face. “G-God. That was- that was close.”

“I told you to leave,” you sigh, still irritated but somehow not able to bring out the anger anymore. “By the way, aren’t you hot wearing that?”

“I can’t really get rid of them even if I want to,” he replies carefully, tugs his nose under the red fabric of his scarf, and bends down to pick up the poor binder. His expression falls crooked when he sees to it—the spine is warped and broken—that could have been his nose. 

So in real Han Jisung’s fashion, he blurts aloud without any care for his life, “You know, you’re plenty scary, Y/N.”

You’ve already walked over to where he is by the time he realizes what he’s got himself into. “Do you want a beating or something?”

“But you’re also really kind,” he asserts with a cough, handing you the binder obediently while tracing random shapes on the tiled floor. 

It sets off a weird switch inside you but you’re not sure how sturdy his skull is. “Jisung, I’m just faking it. I’m the student’s council president, that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Jisung hugs his legs and lifts his head; soft black locks, gentle eyes, chubby cheeks—it’s been a while that you’ve noticed anything other than his pale complexion or the blood-red scarf. 

“That’s not it. I really cherish every moment I get to spend with you. The way you listen to whatever I have to say, the way you rearrange your schedule so we can eat together when I’m sick in the nurse’s office. The way you laugh at my awful jokes, the way you worry about me not just because my mom told you to, the way you treat my parents like they’re your own. Even the way you get angry at me or on my behalf.”

 “I like the way you take care of me like you mean it. That’s why I’m in love with you. You have no idea how happy I am just to be with you like this. I want us to be family. I won’t tolerate the idea of you being someone else’s.”

You make a sound that’s similar to a cough because the impact of his words simply knocks you breathless. “Didn’t you tell me that you hated me?”

Jisung is trying not to laugh. You can hear it in his voice. “Sorry, that was a lie,” he grins ear to ear. “Did you let my words get to you? Is that why you’re crying?”

Of course, he doesn’t hate you. He’s too dizzy with adoration and stricken with boundless love to hate you. 

Something flutters in your chest strangely. “Don’t look, damn it.”

Embarrassed, you attempt to shove him to the floor but he catches your foot right on time. “I love you, okay? I will love you always.” 

Your eyes are hot and leaking liquid, just like he said. “Just...fuck you.”

“That’s fair.”

You jerk your leg hard this time, almost bashing it against his head. “Fuck you.” 

“Okay, okay.” Jisung lets go, slightly petrified but even the mortification can’t make him avert his gaze. 

“I said, don’t look.”

Something cool grabs your hand—it’s wet with tears but he doesn’t mind. Instead, Jisung presses his lips against your palm, lets it cradle his coldness, and breathes in the tenderness. 

“Dumbass, you’re just crying,” he tells you quietly. “I don’t care what your tears look like.”

iv. fall —

The time you fear most has arrived; fall is here. 

Meaning, a new school year is bound to begin. Meaning, adults can continue to test you and prove that you’re nothing less than a complete fool. Meaning, students may step into your personal bubble as they please, whisking you around until you give them what they want. 

Yet people gush over the colors of the dying leaves, how crisp they are as one foot after another trampled over them, how perfect the weather is for reading poems. Meanwhile, your soul becomes so small and shrivels up inside, rattles around, only taking a cowardly peak when responsibilities come waving. 

Due to that fact, you have soon concluded that you cannot survive another ten months of sheer torture alone. 

So where the hell is the student council when you need them?

You’ve been looking for them all day—during lunch, in the backyard, on the balcony, in the members’ respective classrooms—and your efforts are to no avail. Suspicious. Weirdly suspicious. Of all places, where can they—

Oh.

Therefore as you realize how dense you are, you rush to the council’s office. Your hand shoves the door open. 

To your dismay, darkness pitches from the room. There isn’t much that surprises you anymore when it comes to any of their pranks. Which is why when you glimpse the first flicker of someone, your heart doesn’t jolt once. It continues to beat steadily as light floods the room, a few figures pop up, and confetti blows up in your face. 

“Everyone, on my count.” Minho gestures with his index finger. “Three, two, one…!”

“PRESIDENT, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

Your eardrums explode as a scowl traces your lips, “What the heck? It’s not my birthday.” 

“You’re right. It’s not,” Jeongin takes back a cough and holds up a cake with two hands. 

Felix offers you a thumbs up. “We decided to use that phrase because it’s concise and convenient.” 

“Uh...okay?” You blink, leaving the topic there or you might never hear the end of it, averting your attention to Minho. “And what are you doing here? You graduated months ago.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t come back for free food,” he smiles meekly. 

“I expect nothing less from you.” A dismissive wave; the shock still has yet to settle in. “So what’s the fuss?”

“Since this year is your last, we wanted to do something nice for you! As your fellow members and underlings, we could see your effort the most clearly all this time. Thank you for your hard work, we mean it. Truly.” A cheerful Lia creeps up from behind and throws her entire weight over your shoulder. “Felix baked the cake, by the way.” You’re going to crash, you’re going to crash—

Yeji comes to the rescue, peeling Lia’s hands away from you before tilting her head curiously. “Whose idea was it again? I can’t recall it.”

“Not me,” everybody else choruses. 

Ryujin whips out her phone and starts scrolling. “I’m sure there was a message in our group chat, no? There’s nothing? It literally was just here yesterday.”

“Can we just ignore it? You’re making things creepy,” Chaeryeong frowns, rubbing her arms unconsciously. 

“Maybe a ghost texted us?” Hyunjin says and gets pulled into an instant headlock because Seungmin isn’t tolerating any of that paranormal shit. “Let—go—what is—wrong with you!! You’re supposed to be the vice president!”

“Keep it up and I’ll bust your head open,” Seungmin deadpans, an ugly shadow looming over his face. Nothing should interfere with his beauty sleep. 

“Seriously, you’re ten thousand times scarier than the ghost itself!!!”

Minh rolls his eyes—this is power abuse, he thinks to himself. Your mouth twitches, exhaustion mixing with amusement. You lift a slow hand, curl your fingers, and jab it straight into the side of his stomach. Your friend chokes at the impact, stumbling back a few steps as the room winces in empathy. 

“What—“ he wheezes, “—the fuck?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you grin and twist your hand. “Just making sure that I’m not dreaming.” 

“That’s not how it works!!”

You ignore his cowering form on the floor. “A ghost, you say?” Something clicks. 

Oh, you’re kidding, you think stutteringly, You’re kidding me. 

“Uh, Prez?” Felix waves a hand in front of your face. “Cake? Let’s eat?”

You snap out of it and back away, starting for the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back!!”

“Wait! Cake?!” The poor freckled boy yells after you. 

“Right, cake! Thanks for the cake! I’ll be right back, I promise!! Don't eat the entire thing, you hear me?!”

Something chokes up inside you as you run. You’re not entirely sure where you’re heading to despite being able to see everything and knowing every corner of the school like the back of your hand. 

“Looking for me?”

“Jisung?” You stop, letting out labored breaths. 

“I’m here, Y/N.” 

“What?”

“Up here, silly.”

Your gaze snaps upward as a sound rustles above the tree. Jisung mouths a small ‘careful’ before stomping on the branch to jump off, his red scarf flying back as he does so. As you’re about to ask what business he has with a tree, Jisung puts a kitten on the ground, waving it off. A smile worthy of its own sun and the winter uniform—he never changes. 

“Yo, Jisung,” you say, an echo of an old greeting, heart pounding rapidly. 

His hands slide into his pockets. “Missed me?”

“Sure did,” you humor him for a second there but clear your throat right after. “Did you do that? The surprise party?”

“Take a guess?” He tilts his head, a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

You hold up a fist. “Take a punch then.”

“Does it really matter, though?” Jisung drags his words, clasps his hands to the back of his head, eyes returning to the blue sky. The sunlight warms him up a little, dusting some colors back on his cheeks. 

For a moment long, only the autumn leaves rattle against each other quietly. “Does it not?” You blink, your brain slowly rebooting backward. 

He, too, blinks and lets an obnoxious chuckle leave his lips as if he finally understands the punchline to the joke that is your life. “Of course not,” he confirms. “They did it for you. They did it because they love you, because they cherish you as a friend, because you are important to them. Isn’t that enough of a reason?” 

Warmth recoils in your chest, pricks your eyes, and forces a calm exhale from your lungs. 

Well, you indeed are an absolute idiot. You’re not alone, you don’t have to be so alone, you shouldn’t conclude that you are alone. That will mean neglecting those who truly care for you because they know you’re not all that difficult to love. They can share your burdens, accept your flaws so you may do the same. 

Who cares about the ones who left? You have no need for them anymore. Even if the ones by your side now may abandon you someday, you think you won’t be half as miserable because no matter what, you’ll always carry the love they used to harbor for you. 

It’s okay to grieve, to be angry, to be hurtful sometimes. You know that you’ll be just fine because those who wish to stay, will stay. 

“You should come back to them, you know.” 

There's a hand on your shoulder, tentative. You simply stand there and draw in a shaky breath, feeling the fingers slide higher until it brushes across your cheekbone. You catch his hand and hold onto it tightly. 

Jisung startles, almost stumbling away but you’re already dragging him along. He can do nothing except let his feet bring him to follow you. The steps are steady, slow; one, two, three. One, two, three. He stops counting in his head when you give his hand a squeeze. 

“You should come, too,” a cheerful decision. “Felix baked a cake. You like cakes, don’t you?” 

A scoff, “That’s a very obvious fact. You’ve insulted me.” 

Your chest heaves with genuine chuckles. “What else do you like then?”

“Well, I also like giraffes,” he admits. 

That’s so random. You try not to laugh again. “Do you want to go see one?” 

“I don’t really like crowded places,” he starts mumbling under his breath—his throat is tight like he has this sudden urge to cry. 

“Fine by me. What else?”

“Let’s see…music?”

You purse your lips. “I was going to say I could take you to a concert but you don’t like crowded places.” 

Jisung clings onto your hand with more force—a helpless gesture. “I like video games, too.” 

“Oh, that’s easy. Just this once, I’ll stay up late to play with you.” 

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, it’s a promise,” you sigh like you’re completely done with him. 

Jisung asserts hurriedly, “What do you like? I want to know what you like-well, I should know what you like but still-“

“Me? I like you, Han Jisung.” 

He flinches at how easy you make it sound. “For real?” 

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” you say, voice gentle and light as you turn around. “So what’s with the long face?”

“That’s my line,” Jisung tries to laugh but his features stay crumpled, stricken with agony. “You’re thinking about that time too, aren’t you?”

You press your lips into a straight line, trying not to mirror his expression. Yet it shatters when he speaks again, “That time when you killed me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Something like guilts settles into your smile—fuck, you can’t cry. It would be absurd if you did because you didn’t even cry when you ended his life. How are you going to cry now when he is right beside you, holding your hand so tenderly?

“Sorry for killing you.” 

With a shudder, he shakes his head and pulls away. His hands unravel the scarf around his neck to put it over yours instead, each movement careful and attentive. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Jisung can finally laugh like he’s been freed from a chokehold. He opens his arms, crashing himself against you to breathe in the taste of the sky one last time. 

“Sorry for loving you so much.”

You return the hug, arms coming empty. 

❖ note (again) : an explanation for those who are confused; jisung died in winter. another thing is that he’s weirdly attached to his scarf because that is what he used to kill himself. so if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

[prouvaireafterdark]

Home - 3x10 Coda

Here’s the tender couch sex I promised! 😘

Also on AO3!

***

“I’m home.”

Alex feels those words in his chest the moment Michael says them, tightening around his heart like a warm embrace. For a moment he thinks he’s going to cry, his eyes beginning to prick with unshed tears, but the sudden touch of Michael’s hand against his neck, the gentle, fleeting brush of his thumb along his cheek ground him in the moment.

His eyes flutter open once more to meet Michael’s gaze. The love he sees reflected back at him is overwhelming in its own right, but Alex catches understanding there too, as if for once Michael knows exactly what he’s feeling, how much those words mean to him. His grip on Michael’s thigh tightens involuntarily at the emotion welling up inside him, but Michael gives him barely a second to dwell on it before he leans in and closes the space between them.

This feels different too, Alex thinks as Michael kisses him, each press of his lips firm and unhurried. He’d grown used to stolen moments and frantic kisses, the two of them taking what they needed from each other with an almost violent fervor, never knowing when—or if—they would get the chance to be together again. 

But there’s no urgency to Michael’s kisses now, no clock ticking down in Alex’s head when Michael knocks their noses together as he finds a new angle. It’s intoxicating—this idea that neither of them is going anywhere, that they have all the time in the world—and Alex sinks into that blissful feeling, his world narrowing to all the places Michael is touching him. 

Alex revels in the softness of Michael’s lips against his mouth and the firm pressure of his fingers curling around the back of his neck. His hand flies up from Michael’s thigh to grip at his bicep, urging him closer, and Michael deepens the kiss, the tip of his tongue teasing Alex’s bottom lip. Alex opens for him eagerly, welcoming everything Michael is offering until they’re both dizzy with it. 

They keep their eyes closed as they break the kiss to catch their breath, neither one of them willing to come fully out of the moment they’re sharing.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say that,” Alex murmurs, the words flowing out of him before he even gives himself permission to speak. 

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Michael sighs in response, his fingers squeezing lightly at the back of Alex’s neck as he tips his head forward to bring their brows together.

It hurts Alex to hear the guilt edging into Michael’s voice and he shakes his head, opening his eyes as he pulls back just enough to get a look at him. 

“Don’t be,” Alex tells him, reaching up to cup Michael’s cheek. “You needed time. We both did.”

“Still,” he confesses, tilting his head into Alex’s touch. “I wish I didn’t waste so much time.”

Alex swallows roughly before he reminds him, “We have the rest of our lives. Isn’t that enough?”

Michael’s eyes turn glassy as he nods, the corners of his lip twitching upward in a fond smile as he stares back at Alex like he’s the center of his universe. 

“Yeah,” Michael whispers, shifting his head to press a tender kiss to Alex’s palm.

Alex leans in to kiss him properly, close-mouthed and gentle. He stays in Michael’s space when he pulls back and takes a deep, shaky breath before he says three words he’s been waiting over a decade to say.

“I love you,” Alex tells him, stroking his thumb tenderly over Michael’s cheekbone.  

The smile Michael gives him is nothing short of radiant as he says, “I know,” and brushes his nose playfully against Alex’s.

It’s somehow exactly and yet not at all what Alex is expecting to hear, and a laugh bursts forth from deep within his chest, happy tears leaking from his eyes as he asks, incredulously, “Did you just ‘Han Solo’ me?” 

“Maybe,” Michael laughs, and Alex can feel his smile as Michael leans forward to press one soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then another. “But I love you too, Alex,” he adds seriously as he pulls away to wipe at the tears that have escaped down his cheeks. “I’ve always loved you.”

Alex closes his eyes as he smiles and lets those words sink in, fairly certain his heart has never felt so full.

“And if you’ll let me,” Michael continues after a beat, his voice smooth as bourbon as he slides his fingers up and into Alex’s hair, “I’d really like to show you how much.”

Alex takes Michael’s meaning immediately and his eyes flash open to look at him. They’ve been very intentionally taking things slow, not wanting to ruin this fresh start they’ve carved for themselves by falling into the old, toxic patterns of their youth, but it feels like they’ve reached a milestone in more ways than one today and Alex is more than ready to take the next step if that’s what Michael wants.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, quirking his head to the side with a coy smile on his lips even as his heart begins to race. 

“Mhmm,” Michael hums, his eyes dropping suggestively down to Alex’s mouth.

“And how do you intend to do that?” Alex asks, a little breathless now as the tension continues to mount between them.

Michael smiles before he leans in to kiss him again, harder this time, bringing back a bit of that fire Alex has grown so used to. He can feel it catch low in his belly, burning hotter with every flick of Michael’s tongue into his mouth, every playful tug on the ends of his hair, until it feels as if he’s being consumed, burned from the inside out. He needs more, needs everything, and it isn’t much longer that Alex reaches for the edge of Michael’s flannel to push it off his shoulders. 

Michael gets the picture pretty quickly and disentangles his arms from Alex’s neck to help him, breaking the kiss just long enough to hastily toss it and his tank top somewhere across the room before he reaches for the hem of Alex’s sweater to do the same. Alex lifts his arms for him and soon enough they’re both shirtless and panting, their hands seeking whatever bare skin they can reach. 

Alex takes Michael by the sides of his face and kisses him again, his fingers sinking into his soft curls. He slowly starts to lean back, pulling Michael with him until they’re both lying on the couch, Alex’s head cushioned by a pillow against the armrest and Michael cradled between his spread thighs.

His bare skin feels like heaven against his chest and Alex groans at the friction on his rapidly hardening cock as Michael settles on top of him and rolls his hips forward. He slides his hands into the back pockets of Michael’s jeans and encourages him to do it again, grateful he’d thought to take his leg off and change into something more comfortable when Michael mixed their drinks earlier.

Michael licks boldly into Alex’s mouth as their hard cocks grind together through the fabric of their pants, kissing him until the pressure inside him builds so much that Alex starts to feel like he’s about to pop like warm champagne if Michael doesn’t stop teasing him.

“Michael,” he gasps between kisses, his voice trembling and urgent, and Michael stops for just a moment, their foreheads touching as they catch their breath.

“I know,” Michael pants, as if he too can feel the desperate, cloying need that has Alex in its grip. “Wanna move this to your bedroom?” 

Alex shakes his head and draws his left leg higher up Michael’s side, keeping him right where he is. “If you make me move from this spot, I’ll never forgive you.”

Michael huffs a laugh against his mouth. “Well,” he says, “wouldn’t be the first time I fucked you on a couch.” 

Alex groans and sinks his teeth into Michael’s plush bottom lip, his cock throbbing in his sweats. His skin feels tight and hot all over just thinking about it—Michael working him open right here and sliding inside him, taking him apart more thoroughly than anyone else could ever hope to.

“Is your lube in that nightstand?” Michael asks suddenly, interrupting Alex’s thoughts as he jerks his head toward his open bedroom door, where Alex knows without looking that Michael can see the lefthand side of his bed.

“Yeah,” Alex nods. “Top drawer. Condoms are in there too.”

The hand in Alex’s hair disappears as Michael reaches out and pulls the top drawer of Alex’s nightstand open with his telekinesis. It takes a second of concentration, like Michael is searching for the right shapes with his mind, before a bottle of lube and a box of condoms levitate out of the open drawer, into the living room, and onto the coffee table just within reach.

Alex laughs, leaning his head back against the armrest of the couch. 

“What?” Michael laughs back. “Did you want me to get up?”

“No,” Alex replies, still smiling as he tightens his legs around his waist. “I like you right where you are.”

Michael swoops in to give him a short, wet kiss on the lips before he starts charting a course down the side of his neck, pausing to linger over a sensitive spot on his way down the column of his throat. 

“You trying to mark me up?” Alex asks after a soft moan escapes him, his fingers tightening in Michael’s hair.

“Mhmm,” Michael confirms shamelessly as he nips his skin between his teeth.  “You never let me when we were kids.”

“No, I didn’t,” Alex agrees. He’d always wanted Michael to, but, well— “I was always too worried my dad would see.” 

“You want me to stop?” Michael asks, lifting his head to look at him, his curls hanging adorably over his eyes.

“No, go ahead,” Alex encourages him, stretching his head back to expose his neck like an offering, a soft, indulgent smile on his lips. “Feels good.”

Michael returns to his work with a smile Alex can feel against his skin. He licks and bites at Alex’s throat in turns, and Alex lets himself enjoy the feeling of it—the way it hurts, just a little, just enough for him to know he’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a mark Michael left him darkening his skin. It sends a thrill down his spine, makes him gasp as Michael sinks his teeth in just a little bit harder before he soothes the bite with his tongue.

That spot on Alex’s throat is pleasantly sore by the time Michael slides down the length of his chest, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach as he curls his fingers into the waistband of Alex’s sweats. He pulls them smoothly down Alex’s thighs along with his underwear, shoving them off the side of the couch and onto the floor. 

Michael sits up to look appreciatively down at him then, eyes dark with want, and Alex can’t help but feel exposed, suddenly very aware of the way his hard cock is leaking against his hip and the wet trail Michael’s tongue left behind on his stomach still shines in the lamplight.

“You gonna keep staring at me all night?” Alex asks, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his cock. Michael tracks the movement hungrily and Alex slowly strokes himself from root to tip, putting on a show as he continues, “Or did you want to do something about this?”

The movement pushes a bead of precome out of his slit and heat spikes through him, anticipation curling low in his gut as he watches Michael lick his lips when it dribbles down his shaft. 

It doesn’t take much more encouragement than that. Michael lays his hands on Alex’s thighs, spreading them even further as he lowers his mouth to where Alex is stroking himself. He grunts as he flicks his tongue over the weeping head of Alex’s cock, his eyes fluttering closed as he swallows.

“Fuck, I’ve missed the way you taste,” Michael murmurs before he takes the head fully into his mouth and softly starts to suck.

It’s barely a moment before Michael tries to take him deeper, and Alex lets his hand slip all the way down to the base of his cock to let him, his head lolling back against the armrest as he moans long and deep. The warm, sucking heat of Michael’s mouth is almost too much and Alex is so distracted he doesn’t notice Michael has reached for the bottle of lube on the coffee table until he hears the distinctive sound of its cap snapping open. 

He feels Michael’s palm pushing against his left thigh next, nudging him to open his legs wider. Alex rests his foot on the edge of the coffee table as he lets Michael gently settle his residual limb over his shoulder to give him plenty of room. 

“Ready?” Michael asks as he pulls off of Alex’s cock, his lips red and slightly swollen. Alex wants to kiss him so badly, but he nods instead, not quite trusting his voice.

Michael’s fingers are slick when he rubs them over his hole, massaging over it a few times before he presses one inside. His other palm curls possessively around Alex’s right thigh and Alex releases his own cock to reach for it, threading their fingers together as Michael starts to lazily fuck him with one finger and then two.

He gasps when Michael grazes his prostate, his hips twitching involuntarily and forcing Michael’s fingers deeper inside of him. He can feel a smug smile spread across Michael’s mouth where he’s dropping soft, wet kisses on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

“There, huh?” Michael asks, as if he doesn’t know, as if he hasn’t spent hours—days, even—of his life taking Alex apart like this. He drags his fingers over that spot again, a little harder this time, drawing a moan from deep within Alex’s chest as pleasure lights up his spine. “That feel good, baby?”

“So good,” Alex pants, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “Don’t stop.”

“Think I could make you come like this?” Michael asks, voice low and rough as gravel. “Nothing but my fingers inside you?”

“You could try,” Alex teases, shooting Michael a grin of his own.

Michael’s eyes darken as he looks up at him between his thighs and Alex wonders briefly if he’ll take him up on the challenge. 

“Maybe another time,” he says at last, withdrawing his fingers and pressing back in with a third, fucking Alex open even further. “I’d rather feel you come on my dick tonight.”

Jesus Christ, Alex thinks, groaning at Michael’s words as much as the sudden stretch of his hole around his fingers. He nearly sees stars as Michael curls them toward his navel, sliding them back out again until only the tips are holding him open before he screws them back inside. Alex closes his eyes and surrenders himself to Michael’s ministrations until sweat starts to break out over his skin and his cock is a drooling mess against his belly.

“Michael,” Alex moans, his grip on Michael’s fingers tightening as his need to come grows sharp and insistent. His head feels heavy as he lifts it off the armrest to look down at Michael through the vee of his thighs.

“Hm?” Michael asks, eyes still caught where Alex can feel him spreading his fingers wider inside him, testing the stretch of his hole.

“Please,” Alex begs, reaching down to grab Michael’s arm with his free hand, his sweat-slick fingers slipping along the skin of his wrist. “I need you.”

Michael doesn’t keep him waiting after that. He presses a soft kiss to his inner thigh before he rises up on his knees and withdraws his fingers as gently as he can. Alex misses Michael’s warmth as he stands up to kick off his jeans, but he’s back in an instant, kneeling between Alex’s legs and rolling a condom onto his cock.

Michael leans over him then, holding himself up with one hand as he slicks his cock with the other, and seconds later Alex feels the blunt head of it nudging against his hole. Alex curses softly as his body opens up around it, and Michael gives him a minute to get used to the stretch once he’s seated, his arms shaking with the effort to stay still as he hovers above him. 

Alex nods when he’s ready, tightening his legs around Michael’s waist encouragingly, and Michael slowly starts to rock forward, the leather couch squeaking with every move he makes. He fucks Alex a little deeper with each thrust until it really starts to feel good, his thick cock brushing Alex’s prostate just enough to keep him wanting more. 

Fuck, he’s missed this—how full he feels with Michael’s cock splitting him open, the sweet sounds Michael makes as he loses himself in Alex’s body, music to his ears. It’s beautiful, the way Michael makes him feel—good and right in a way he’s never experienced with anyone else he’s ever been with. Alex isn’t sure if he believes in fate, in events that are fixed and immutable, but in this moment he finds it hard to believe that it was anything other than destiny that brought him back into Michael’s arms.

Michael’s soft curls tickle his chest as he leans down to press tender kisses over his heart, and Alex can’t help but thread his fingers through his hair, his eyes drifting closed as he gives himself over to the sensation. He thinks he hears a buzzing sound, distant and muted, but it’s quickly drowned out by the pounding of his heart and the low moan he makes as Michael drives his hips forward again, and Alex strikes it from his mind, his whole world narrowing to the hot drag of Michael’s cock in and out of him and the subtle taste of himself he catches on his tongue as he tugs him blindly back up for a kiss. 

Michael can only maintain the measured, even pace he’s set for so long, his thrusts soon growing more rough and uncoordinated. Alex knows he must be close when he takes hold of Alex’s thighs suddenly and pushes his legs up higher, nearly bending him in half before he slips his right hand between their bodies and wraps it around Alex’s cock. 

The change in angle and steady friction on his cock have Alex keening and on the edge in seconds, his hands scrambling for purchase on any part of Michael he can reach. The needy, whimpering moans Michael rips from his chest with every roll of his hips get higher and higher, the pleasure mounting inside him until it finally, finally crests, his balls drawing up tight as he comes, jerking messily in Michael’s grip.

“That’s it, baby,” Michael says, fucking him through it with deep thrusts and a firm hand on his cock.  “Just like that.”

Alex is nearing the point of overstimulation, his thighs trembling on either side of Michael’s hips, by the time Michael shoves his cock as deep inside of him as he can get and shudders as he comes, his face buried in the crook of Alex’s neck as he rides out his orgasm. 

“Fuck,” Michael groans, going totally boneless as he collapses onto Alex’s chest seconds later. Alex takes his weight happily and runs his fingers through his curls. “You think it’s ever gonna stop feeling this good?”

Alex buries the soft laugh that bubbles from his chest into Michael’s curls. “No way,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll still be blowing my mind when we’re eighty.”

“Eighty, huh?” Michael asks, a playful smile as he lifts his head up to look at Alex’s face. “You gonna keep me around that long?”

“Mhmm,” Alex hums without hesitation, pressing a kiss to Michael’s flushed forehead. “I told you: I like you right where you are.”

[my-otp-list]

Albeit the fact that I’m suffering another wave of serious withdrawal (the only other time this ever happened was due to The Guest), I do consider myself blessed to have been able to cross path with a drama like this in this life.

While my feelings about the show are still very raw, and since I’ve been doing nothing but thinking about Han Joowon and Lee Dongsik 24/7 for the past 2 weeks, here I am, dedicating a review to this compelling, one-of-a-kind sort of show, whose lead characters’ chemistry has transcended my very own definition of ‘perfection’.

Beyond Evil (K-Drama)

Genre: Psychological, Thriller, Mystery, Investigation, Drama

Synopsis (taken & modified from MyDramaList):

Meet two fearless men who are willing to go to extreme lengths in their pursuit of a serial killer that has shaken up their quiet town.

Lee Dongsik, a once capable detective, is now demoted to perform menial tasks at the Manyang Police Substation. Just as he is beginning to settle into a peaceful life, Han Joowon, a young, arrogant, elite detective whose father is the star candidate for the National Police Agency’s next chief, is transferred in and becomes his new partner.

When a string of gruesome killings occurs in town, the pattern that takes shape is oddly reminiscent of several serial-murder cases from 20 years prior, for which none other than Lee Dongsik was the main suspect.

As the two’s investigation proceeds, they are forced to look far deeper than what the evidence suggests and to question the culpability of all those surrounding the case, including their own.

Length: 16 episodes - 70 minutes each

Personal review:

+ The Plot: Beyond Evil may come off looking all very similar to the usual small town murder, where you’re made to anticipate that the core of the show is a whodunit mystery.

But then, it isn’t.

At its very core, Beyond Evil is a powerful story of grief, guilt and greed, masked behind a remarkably intricate web of human relations and their ugliest, rawest desires. Where no one seems innocent. Yes, not even the lead characters.

Did Beyond Evil do a good job at being a Mystery? Likely, yes, though I’m aware some might’ve preferred the mystery bits to stay on a little longer. Did it do a good job at being a Psychological Thriller? Oh, god, yes.

+ The Characters: This is probably the first K-drama I’ve ever watched that somehow manages to spare a proper backstory for almost all major characters, including the villains. We’re talking about at least 8 of them here, within mere 16 episodes.

Most interestingly, this is also the first show I’ve ever watched where every single character’s ethics might lie in a grey zone. As easy as it is to judge them for such questionable behaviours, the reasons why they do what they do will probably keep you awake at night, wondering if you could’ve done any better had you been put in their shoes.

Intriguingly, when it isn’t dealing with the darker sides of life, the show oozes a quality Found Family vibe, a warm depiction of how far a close-knitted community will go to protect their own people. Get ready to be attached to certain characters, because you simply will.

And of course, I can’t be done with this part without talking about our two leads, Lee Dongsik and Han Joowon. Lee Dongsik certainly makes it to my list of characters with such profound depths, despite the fact that the show’s runtime isn’t even that long, and the subtlety, the complexity of his struggles is brought out even more amazingly thanks to Shin Hakyun’s acting. His partner Han Joowon, one who walks into the show looking nothing short of the annoying brat you’ll want to punch in the face, reaches what I would gladly define as peak character development by the end of the show, the sort that almost feels as though he’s been through a lifetime of troubles.

+ The Chemistry: Here’s the point where I want to share with you my personal experience trying to appreciate and interpret the two male leads’ dynamic.

(one can’t talk about these two’s dynamic without joking about the space between them, or lack thereof, but I shan’t digress)

In my first watch of Beyond Evil, this was what I said to myself: “Cool, seems like bromance isn’t the focus, but not bad.”

In my second watch of Beyond Evil, this was what I screamed to myself: “Goodness gracious was I f**king blind in my first watch?”（￣□￣；）

Here’s the thing, Shin Hakyun himself said something along the line that “this is the type of script that, if done well, will make the audience want to watch twice.” I heeded his words, and guess what I found? So many minuscule details, so many subtle movements.

I believe in the first watch, I was so overwhelmed by the convolution of the plot and all the characters’ emotional grapples that the two leads’ dynamic was somehow majorly sidelined from my attention. By the second watch, I was dead-set on focusing on these two, their every line, their every gaze, their every gesture and their incapacity to stop flirting when they’re with each other.

The result? By the time I reached the ever-famous ending scene in the second watch, I was a horrible mess.

How lucky must I be to be able to watch such a mesmerising enemies-to-partners-to-(how-should-I-even-define-this-relationship) development? This is two characters who come to ruin yet save each other, two persons who stand against the whole world, and two men who are willing to fall into Hell for the other.

Such. Fervour.

+ The Acting: You know, let’s just go straight to the point. Everyone, please stand up and give every actor and actress a standing ovation. Just, please. (I personally will stand a tad longer for Do Hae Won’s actress. I got goosebumps from how mental that lady was, in all earnest.)

+ The Filming/OST: I’ve never found any aspect to fault a K-Thriller’s filming, and I’m certainly not gonna do so for Beyond Evil. Perfection, 11/10. But, I’ve never commented on any show’s OST before, so let me make the first exception today: That is some god-tier OST, one that matches too well with the show’s heavy atmosphere and tension among the characters. Look up the full OST folks, especially The Night by Choi Baek Ho.

- The Negative: Yes, I have something to complain: How am I supposed to move on from this, at all?

If you’re giving this show a go-ahead, here’s an advice: Proceed with caution, because I won’t be responsible for your subsequent withdrawal and/or inability to find other shows that could fill in the void that Beyond Evil leaves behind. You’ve been truthfully warned.

[jishyucks]

The L Word ‣ hjs

‣ genre: angst with a fluffy ending, arranged marriage, sort of modern royalty (rich kid!au), female reader

‣ wc: 2.1k

‣ summary: “Tell me, Han. Has she ever explicitly told you that she loved you?”; in which Jisung's afraid that Y/N's going to leave him in rising of rumors but learns he shouldn't judge a situation from the words of others

‣ warnings?: The Hwang 'sibs' are mean in this (just a bit), lowkey rushed, jisung runs off because of overthinking

Looking at the ballroom’s appearance, Jisung feels as though he shouldn’t even be there in the first place. Like some puzzle piece placed in the wrong box. The people attending the party lived lavish lifestyles, knowing the difference between the different forks placed at the tables. Etiquette was more important to them than the basics a middle-class person would even care about.

Though Jisung had good ideas of such subjects, it wasn't forced onto him like those around him. The only reason why he was able to attend the party was because of a marriage arrangement your father and his father had made as some kind of sick ‘contract’ regarding business. Though he wasn’t complaining, feelings for you developed through the years of knowing you since childhood, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about a handful of things.

For one, you guys were engaged through the arrangement. It’s been three years since the announcement, and even if Jisung believed you were fine with it, even if you ensured to Jisung that you were happy with the engagement, intrusive thoughts started keeping him up at night.

He knew you. You hated speaking out your feelings, whether it led to consequences or not. What if you actually weren’t fine with it? What if you were somehow threatened by your father and the contract to actually speak out about the engagement? He didn’t want you to feel forced to marry him.

Then there was his family’s reputation. His family was deemed drastically poorer than yours by the other associated families and businesses. He was afraid of tainting your family’s reputation or seeming like one of those leeches found at the bottom of murky ponds. Though it was an arranged marriage, Jisung had genuine feelings for you. It was his father that was in it for the money and Jisung was nothing like his father.

“Hey, scrounger!” Jisung turned to find Hyunjin and his sister Yeji approaching him from the opposite corner of the room. They both were dressed in clothes that were probably a lot more expensive than his own, his clothes being hand-me-downs from his father.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Yeji smirked, “You don’t even have business here.” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, eyeing down the boy.

Jisung didn’t cower under their gaze, instead of straightening his back, “I’m here because I was invited. My father was invited as well.” Don’t show fear, he told himself, That’s what they want.

“Ahh~,” Hyunjin chuckled, “Good way to disguise 'because of Y/N.' Tell me, Han. Has Y/N ever explicitly told you that she loved you?”

Yeji butted in, laughing, “I think love is too strong of a word… how ‘bout like? Has she ever told you that she liked you? Cause rumor has it she’s planning on breaking your engagement.”

Jisung gulped, “S-she has… and gossip is bullshit.” He lied. When the arrangement was created, there was some kind of unspoken assumption that you both liked each other. As a result of this, no confessions were made from you both. Sure it was stupid, but in Jisung’s eyes, actions spoke louder than words, and just by how he treated you and you treated him, you both cared very much for each other. Of course, other people never paid attention to actions and relied on direct statements.

“We don’t gossip, Han,” Hyunjin scoffs, “Who would pass up the opportunity to marry Bang Chan when he’s the son of the top businessman in all of Korea?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung’s heart skipped a beat, eyed widening slightly at the mention of Bang Chan’s name.

“His father apparently wanted to create a deal with her father that was a lot better than his deal with yours,” Hyunjin explained, “Isn’t your engagement part of that poorer deal?”

Jisung chose not to reply, biting his tongue. Instead, he shoots Hyunjin a narrowed glare, not up for defending himself or arguing. With the lack of response from their target, the siblings simply rolled their eyes and walked away, taking a seat at their designated table.

When the attention was diverted away from him, Jisung couldn’t help but let his shoulders fall. He feels his heart beating quicker than at rest, thoughts running through his mind like crazy. You wouldn’t leave him just like that right? You wouldn’t.

Then his mind wanders back to Hyunjin and Yeji’s question. Yes, he did think that actions were undoubtedly stronger than words, but now that a spotlight was shone on the hidden yet obvious fact that you both hadn’t said anything about each others’ feelings, he couldn’t help but believe that you could possibly be leaving him. But then again, he has never said anything to you and his feelings existed.

He felt the sudden urge to look for you, who had been busy accompanying your father with the guests. Maybe he will actually confess how he truly felt, just in case you were actually thinking about breaking the engagement. Maybe he could save it somehow, just in case your father was willing to make the deal with Mr. Bang.

Chewing the bottom of his lip, he scanned the room, looking for the lavender dress you were wearing. But with the clumps of people, his line of sight was constantly stopped abruptly.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled politely, making his way through the crowd, “Excuse me.” He ignored the looks some people gave him, still slithering his way between the socializing people. Though his hair was parted in a way that exposed part of his forehead, he felt the need to hide under his bangs, keeping his head low as he did.

The familiar sound of your father’s laugh drove Jisung to stop and look around his area. If he was close, you’d be close. Scanning his surroundings completely, he finally spots your father, with you standing close beside him. He feels a smile rise on his lips as he begins to make his way towards you both, heartbeat racing just as his thoughts were.

Opening his mouth to call out for you, he quickly stops himself when he realizes that you and your father were holding a conversation with Bang Chan and his own father. His feet abruptly stop, allowing him to overhear the exchange of banter.

“Well, it was a pleasure having this conversation with you,” Mr. Bang chuckled, “I will see you on Monday for the papers?” He held a hand out for a handshake, a smile filled with pride appearing on his lips.

Your father nodded, “Likewise. I’m looking forward to it.” He completes the handshake, which then queues for Chan to lean in for a hug.

Shit, Jisung gulps, feeling his heart drop to his stomach, What the hell just happened?

You take a step forward and hug Chan back for a brief second before pulling back, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here, Chan.”

Chan’s dimples appeared as he smiled genuinely, “Thank you, Y/N.”

Jisung was frozen on the spot, unsure whether or not he should say anything. The notes that he had mentally jotted down in his head were suddenly ripped into pieces and he was practically speechless.

Obliviously, you turn to follow your father, who was already ready to move on to another conversation. Mid-turn, the boy dressed in a striped, navy suit had caught your attention, giving him a double-take, “Oh! Jisung!” The corners of your mouth rise higher, eyes lighting up at the sight of the familiar boy. A wave of comfort washed over you. It was refreshing to see him after interacting with so many strangers and acquaintances.

When you go to approach him, Jisung panics and begins to back into the people behind him. It was then you noticed the look of distraught on his face, causing you to speed up. At this, he turns and runs, causing commotion around him as dodges those who got in his way.

“Jisung!” You called out, turning the heads of those people around you. The music had drowned your voice out from those further away from you, “Jisung!?” You begin making your way through the crowd of people, going as fast as you could in heels so that you wouldn’t lose Jisung. A million assumptions were running through your head, worry lining each and every one of them.

Swinging the door open, Jisung finds himself stumbling out into the empty corridor of the hotel. With the choice of left and right, Jisung stops and impulsively runs in one direction, not minding where he would end up if kept running.

So you were going to break the engagement… without warning? How were you going to break the news to him? How was he supposed to react once you told him about it all? Happy? Sad? Excited?

You finally reached the door of the ballroom, slipping out rather roughly into the corridor. Your head whips left and right, seeing Jisung’s trailing feet to the right of the hallway, turning the corner. You let out a heavy breath before kicking off your heels, booking it in that direction.

Your mind wanders to why Jisung was running. What did he hear? Was he okay? Could it be what other people were saying again? But Jisung was never usually one to let words get to him.

Jisung lets himself rest once he gets to a secluded room. Judging by its content, he realized that he managed to slip into the coatroom, but he didn’t care. He needed time alone to think. He just needed to process this entire situation.

“Jisung?” He hears you call out. Jisung sinks down at the corner of the room, resting his head against the wall. He stays quiet, resting his forehead against his knees.

The door to the coat room opens, revealing your disheveled figure, “Jisung…” You pause and try to catch your breath, “There… there you are.”

Jisung doesn’t lift his head, afraid that if he did face you, he would burst into tears. He could sense you approaching him, though, settling down beside him. He could feel your dress up against him. Soon he feels your hand take his, holding it tightly.

“What’s wrong?”

When Jisung doesn’t answer, you don’t say anything to push out an explanation. You let the question simmer, resting your head against his shoulder.

At this point, Jisung’s mind was projecting none of his thoughts but static. He didn’t know where to start and what to bring up. How was he supposed to confront you about the engagement?

“I’m happy for you two,” Jisung blurted out quietly, avoiding eye contact, “I really am.” Your ears perked up, confused at what Jisung was going on about.

“I think people will like you both together more than us,” Jisung continued, “Just know that I lo–“

You interrupt him, turning to completely face him, “Jisung, what are you talking about?” You turned your body towards him, completely facing the cowered boy. Though your body language was practically begging for eye contact, Jisung still avoided it, playing with his rings to keep him from losing control over his emotions.

Building up his confidence, Jisung let himself look at you before whispering, “Y/N?” He sniffled quietly.

“Yeah, Sung?”

Jisung gulped and asked, “Do you like me?”

You’re taken aback by the question, not expecting it out of all the questions Jisung could have asked. Is this why he was crying?

“Of course I do, Jisung, what makes you thin–“

“I mean genuinely like me. Do you have feelings for me?” Words were spewing out of his mouth before he could even process what he was saying. He could feel his emotions taking control of himself, which often is never a good thing.

“Jisung, I love you, okay? Why do you think otherwise?” The beat of your heart sped up with worry. Your eyebrows knitted together in concern as Jisung’s lips quivered slightly.

“The Hwang's told me you were planning on breaking our engagement because Bang Chan’s father offered a better deal than my father,” he explained quietly. He felt as though that if he spoke any louder, he would break out into tears, “I told them I didn’t believe them… t-then they asked me if you’ve ever told me if you did have feelings for me. I just didn’t know what to think when… when I saw your father accept Mr. Bang’s deal. I was afraid you were actually going to leave me.”

You gently slapped his shoulder in shock, “Han Jisung, are you serious?” Jisung responded wordlessly, though a puzzled look replaced his previous emotion.

“My father approached me beforehand about it. He wanted to break our engagement because of the deal, telling me that it was no longer necessary,” you say, “But I told him I wanted to marry you because I love you, Sung. And if he did threaten to forcibly break our engagement, I would’ve fought for us.”

Jisung wanted to laugh at himself at how much he had overreacted. Overthinking was a bitch and this situation was real-life proof, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sung?”

“I would fight for us too.”