#but it's been sitting in my docs for a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheollollipop · 1 day ago

Text

Fragments of Us - Chapter 4. | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: angst, fluff, smut (minors fuck off, in the nicest way possible) warning(s): mentions of drinking, swearing, yn has a few moments of anxiety, SMUUUUT!!!! (MDNI) seungcheol is big mad summary: two years after a messy breakup, seungcheol and yn reconnect unexpectedly. word count: 12k start date: nov. 20, 2024 end date: -

A/N: this is a LOOOOONG one! happy reading<3

I woke up groggy and disoriented as soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains. For a moment, I didn't know where I was or how I'd gotten here. The last thing I remembered was sitting on the couch with Subin, the two of us huddled under a shared blanket, the overly dramatic soundtrack of New Moon playing in the background.

My fingers brushed over the fabric of the hoodie I was wearing—his hoodie. It was oversized, soft, and warm, still carrying that distinct scent of Subin: clean, woodsy, with just a hint of spice. The memories came back in flashes. We'd been laughing about how serious Edward looked when he left Bella in the forest, comparing it to the kind of over-the-top breakup scenes you'd see in old soap operas. At some point, I'd started talking about my mom—how she used to watch those movies with me, how much I missed her.

Subin hadn't said much, but his presence had been steady. Grounding. He had a way of making me feel like it was okay to say things I usually kept locked away.

The last thing I remembered was the slow monotony of Bella's heartbreak montage and the unbearable heaviness of my eyelids. I must have fallen asleep right there on the couch.

So why was I in my bed?

I swung my legs over the side and padded out of my room, tugging the hoodie tighter around me. The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge. As I stepped into the living room, I spotted Subin sprawled out on the couch.

He was a mess. One arm slung over his head, hair sticking up in every direction. His long legs, too big for the couch, were bent awkwardly, and the throw blanket barely covered his torso. His face was peaceful in sleep, lips slightly parted, his usual teasing expression nowhere in sight. Without his smirk, he looked almost... vulnerable.

I hesitated in the doorway, watching him for a moment. It wasn't often I saw Subin like this—unguarded. The urge to grab my phone and snap a picture was strong, but I resisted.

"You know," his voice was rough with sleep, "staring at people while they sleep is kinda creepy."

I jumped, heart, lurching in my chest as his eyes cracked open, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I wasn't staring!" I blurted, crossing my arms. "I was just... making sure you were alive."

"Uh-huh." He pushed himself up on one elbow, blinking sleepily. His hair was even worse now, sticking out in all directions. "And? What's the diagnosis, Doc?"

"You look terrible," I said flatly, though my lips twitched upward. "Like you got run over by a truck."

"And yet, still devastatingly handsome," he shot back, running a hand through his hair.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't hold back a smile. "What are you even still doing here? Did you sleep on the couch all night?"

"You fell asleep first," he said simply. "I wasn't gonna leave you there. So I carried you to bed, and the couch looked... inviting."

"You carried me?" My voice rose slightly, my face heating at the thought.

"Relax, it's not like I tucked you in or anything," he teased, though the glint in his eye suggested otherwise. "But you're welcome."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you keep me around," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. His T-shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a strip of skin above his waistband. I quickly averted my eyes, pretending to focus on the empty takeout containers on the table.

"I guess I should thank you," I muttered, grabbing the containers and heading toward the kitchen.

Subin followed, leaning against the counter as I dumped the trash. "Thank me? Oh no, no, no. You should apologize."

"For what?"

"For making me sleep on that lumpy excuse for a couch." He gestured dramatically behind him. "I'm probably permanently disfigured. My spine will never be the same."

"You're so dramatic."

"This is serious, YN. I sacrificed my well-being for you, and this is the thanks I get?"

"You can have your hoodie back," I offered, tugging at the hem. "That's all you're getting from me."

His gaze flickered down to the hoodie, and something unreadable crossed his expression before he smirked. "Nah, keep it," he said, his voice softer. "It looks better on you anyway."

I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came. There was something about the way he said it—so casual, yet so... intentional. My cheeks warmed, and I busied myself rinsing a coffee mug to avoid his gaze.

"So," he said after a moment, watching me with mild curiosity, "when's Sonya's engagement party again? I should probably start mentally preparing to meet the best friend."

My stomach dropped. I'd gotten ahead of myself last night and asked him to come.

"Um..." I hesitated, staring hard at the mug. "It's... tomorrow."

Subin froze. "Tomorrow? As in the day after today?"

"...Yes?"

He threw his hands up, pacing dramatically across the kitchen. "You've gotta be kidding me! Tomorrow? And you're just telling me now? I don't even have a suit ready! Or a tie! Do I need to match you? Is there a theme? Oh my god, what if there's a photo booth and I look terrible?"

I laughed, especially when he grabbed a dish towel and flung it over his shoulder like a damsel in distress.

"Subin, calm down. It's not that big a deal."

"Not that big a deal?" He pointed an accusatory finger at me. "You don't just spring an engagement party on someone! These things require preparation! Strategy! Emotional readiness!"

"It's not even your party!" I gasped, laughing so hard I had to set the mug down.

"That's not the point!" His lips twitched despite his dramatic rant. "What if I embarrass you? What if I trip and knock over the cake?"

"Then I'll laugh at you." I shrugged. "Like I always do."

He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. "You're way too calm about this."

"Maybe you're just too high-strung."

He took another step, the banter softening into something quieter. "Or maybe," he said, voice lower now, "I just don't want to mess up when it comes to you."

My breath hitched. His gaze was steady, uncharacteristically serious, and my heart skipped in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

"Subin..." I started, but the words tangled in my throat.

His grin returned, smaller this time. "Relax, YN. I'll make it work," he said, reaching out to flick the hood of his hoodie. "Besides, how bad can it be?"

Before I could respond, he turned toward the fridge.

"Eggs?" he called. "I also make a mean omelet."

I shook my head, smiling.

Subin might be impossible, but he was my impossible.

And I wasn't sure I'd have it any other way.

I rolled my eyes and reached for the eggs in his hand. "Sit down. I'll make something edible."

His eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. "You cook?"

"I can manage breakfast," I shot back, cracking an egg into the pan.

Subin settled onto one of the barstools, resting his chin in his hand as he watched me work. "So... the party. What's the game plan? Do I play the role of a doting fake boyfriend, or are we going for mysterious and aloof?"

I snorted. "You're incapable of being aloof."

"Fair point," he said with a smirk. "Guess I'll just be my usual, irresistible self then."

I shook my head, flipping the eggs. "Just don't embarrass me, and we'll be fine."

There was a pause before his voice turned quieter, more thoughtful. "You really think I'd embarrass you?"

I glanced over my shoulder, surprised by the hint of sincerity in his tone. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something unreadable.

"No," I admitted, my voice softer now. "I think you'll be fine."

Something passed between us then—unspoken but lingering—a quiet understanding.

I turned back to the stove, but I could still feel his gaze on me. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid of what that meant. But something else gnawed at me. Seungcheol. As if on cue, Subin must have sensed my shift in mood.

"There's something you're not telling me."

"Wh—Psh. No," I stammered.

"YN, come on. I told you I need to be mentally prepared. What, is there an ex coming or something?" His tone was joking, but he couldn't have been more right.

"Well..."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" He started, but I quickly shook my hands.

"It's fine. Um... I guess since you brought it up, we should maybe... talk."

The look on his face made my heart sink. I sighed and dropped onto the stool across from him. He followed, watching me intently.

"Okay. So, I know there's a lot we still don't know about each other. It's only fair that I tell you this—especially since you'll potentially be meeting my entire friend group, including him."

Subin's gaze never wavered, his expression unreadable but steady, like he was bracing himself.

I let out a long breath before continuing.

"I grew up with these people. Some of them I've known since I was in diapers. I met Seungcheol in high school, and we ended up dating. Two years ago, I lost my mom, and after that, I just felt... lost. She was my best friend. My entire world. When she died, I felt so disconnected from everything. Like I was moving through life in a haze, and no one around me could understand what I was going through. So, I shut down."

I paused, swallowing hard.

"Hey, you don't have to—" Subin started, but I shook my head.

"It got to the point where I felt invisible. No one got it. And I hated them for not understanding, even though I knew it wasn't fair. Saying it out loud now, I realize how selfish it was, but... I couldn't help it."

Silence settled between us as I gathered my thoughts.

"Anyway, two years ago, on my birthday to be exact, Seungcheol threw me a surprise party. At the time, I thought it was the worst thing he could have possibly done. His intentions weren't bad—I know that now. But I was already so angry. And then, during the party, he proposed."

Subin's brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

"I said yes." My voice was barely above a whisper. "Not because I wanted to, but because we were in front of everyone—our friends, our families. It was humiliating. He was so happy. Everyone was so happy. And I was just..." My voice wavered, and I felt tears prick at my eyes.

Subin reached out, placing his hand over mine. He didn't say anything. Just let me sit with it for a moment.

"When we got home that night, we had the biggest argument of our lives. I said things I regret every single day. And one day, while he was at work, I packed up my things, called Sonya, and... well, now we're here."

The weight of the silence that followed felt suffocating.

Subin exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. I could tell he was searching for the right words, but none came.

"There's more," I said quietly.

He blinked. "Oh."

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "Last week, Seungcheol found out about my dad. I guess he was on his way to see me when he got into a car accident." The words felt heavy on my tongue. "It was the first time I'd seen him since everything happened, and... it wasn't good. Old feelings—bad feelings—came up, and I just... lost it. I said things I shouldn't have. It got ugly."

Subin didn't interrupt. He just watched me, his gaze steady, like he was waiting for the rest.

I fiddled with the hem of the hoodie I was still wearing. "Remember when I told you I reconnected with some old friends in Gangnam? That's what I was talking about. Some of them have been reaching out—Jihoon, Dokyeom. But now Jihoon's mad at me, and... it's just a lot."

I let out a slow breath, finally looking up at him. "So yeah. That's where I'm at."

Subin sat quietly for a moment, then let out a low whistle. "Damn, YN."

I let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Subin stays quiet for a long moment, his thumb absently tracing small circles against the back of my hand. His expression is unreadable—no teasing smirk, no easy joke to break the tension—just quiet contemplation.

Finally, he exhales, running a hand through his already messy hair. "YN." His voice is softer than I expected, laced with something that almost sounds like regret. "I had no idea."

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers tightening around his without thinking. "Yeah. I don't really talk about it."

"I get that," he says, his gaze still locked onto mine. "But... you've been carrying all that by yourself? This whole time?"

I shrug, suddenly feeling exposed. "I guess I just figured... it was easier that way."

Subin shakes his head, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "Easier doesn't mean better."

I huff out a small, humorless laugh. "Trust me, I'm aware."

There's another pause, and then Subin sighs, leaning back against the counter. "So... this guy. Seungcheol." He says the name carefully like he's testing how it feels on his tongue. "How do you feel about seeing him again?"

I swallow hard. "I don't know." It's the truth. "Part of me wants to pretend like none of it happened, like I can just show up, smile, and move on. But another part of me..." I trail off, shaking my head. "I just don't know."

Subin studies me for a second before nodding. "Okay."

I blink. "Okay?"

"Yeah." He straightens up, rolling his shoulders like he's shaking off the weight of the conversation. "If you don't know how you feel, then I'll just be there to make sure whatever happens, you don't have to deal with it alone."

My throat tightens. "Subin, you don't have to—"

"YN," he interrupts gently, tilting his head. "I know I don't have to. I want to."

His words settle deep in my chest, warm and steady, and I suddenly feel dangerously close to crying again. I look away, blinking rapidly. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

He grins, the tension in the air easing just a bit. "Yeah, but you like me for it."

I scoff, but there's no real heat behind it. "Debatable."

"Sure, sure," he says, pushing himself up and stretching. "Alright, let's talk new game plan. Am I going full 'supportive fake boyfriend' mode, or should I be ready to throw hands if Seungcheol so much as looks at you the wrong way?"

I snort despite myself. "You're ridiculous."

He winks.

I shake my head, but I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. For the first time since the engagement party came up, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I won't completely fall apart. Because no matter what happens, Subin will be there. And somehow, that makes all the difference.

Subin stretches his arms over his head, letting out an exaggerated groan before hopping off the stool. "Alright, enough emotional damage for one morning. I vote we do nothing for the rest of the day."

I blink at him. "Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing." He gestures vaguely around the apartment. "No serious conversations, no stress, no thinking about... you-know-who. Just good, old-fashioned laziness."

I hesitate. Part of me wants to protest—there are always things to do, things to think about—but another part, the tired part, is tempted by the idea of shutting my brain off for a while.

Subin must see the indecision on my face because he nudges my shoulder. "Come on, YN. When's the last time you had a proper lazy day?"

I press my lips together, thinking.

"Exactly," he says before I can answer. "You deserve it."

I sigh, rolling my eyes for effect. "Fine. But if you think I'm letting you pick another Twilight movie—"

"Oh, no. No more sparkly vampires," he agrees, already moving toward the couch. "We're going for peak comfort today. Hoodies, blankets, and a movie that requires zero brain power."

This is how, fifteen minutes later, we find ourselves sprawled on the couch, wrapped in blankets, a bowl of popcorn between us. The hoodie I borrowed is still comfortably oversized on me, and Subin—now in a different hoodie of his own—looks way too pleased with himself.

"You're awfully smug for someone who just lost rock-paper-scissors," I point out as I scroll through the movie options.

"Because I'm still winning," he says, stretching his arms along the back of the couch. "I got you to actually relax for once."

I huff, but don't argue. He's not wrong.

We settle on some ridiculous action-comedy, the kind with over-the-top fight scenes and one-liners that make no sense. Every so often, Subin tosses popcorn in the air, trying to catch it in his mouth—and missing more than he lands.

"This is embarrassing," I tease, watching another piece bounce off his chin.

He points at me. "You say that, but I bet you can't do it either."

Challenge accepted. I grab a handful of popcorn and attempt my own toss—only for it to land squarely on my forehead before rolling onto my lap.

Subin bursts out laughing. "Oh, that was tragic."

"Shut up," I grumble, snatching another piece and trying again. This time, I get it—barely. I pump a fist in victory while Subin shakes his head.

We go back and forth like that for a while, the movie becoming background noise to our ridiculous competitions—who can catch the most popcorn in a row, throw one the farthest, and balance a piece on their nose the longest.

It's stupid. It's childish.

And it's exactly what I need.

At some point, we migrate to the floor, blankets dragged down with us, and an old deck of cards between us. Subin insists on teaching me some convoluted game I don't think even he fully understands. I lose spectacularly—twice.

The afternoon melts away in lazy conversation, playful bickering, and laughter that comes easier than it has in a long time.

By the time the sun started to dip, casting warm orange light through the windows, I realized that, for the first time in days, I hadn't thought about anything outside this moment. No nagging worries, no engagement party looming over me, no weight of the past creeping in.

Just this. Just us.

Subin flicks a playing card at me with a triumphant grin, and I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the flutter in my stomach. But it's there—the warmth, the lightness, the quiet thrill that's been creeping up on me all day.

He tilts his head slightly as if catching onto something, and before I can overthink it, I lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Oh?" He blinks, grinning.

"What was that for?" he asks, voice teasing but laced with curiosity.

"I just felt like it," I say with a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance, though my heart pounds harder than it should.

"Hm." He hums, eyes studying mine. "That won't do."

Before I can ask what he means, he closes the distance between us, his lips meeting mine again—this time slower, deeper. The shift is subtle but unmistakable. What started as something light turned into something else entirely.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin as our lips move together. There's something about the way he kisses me—like he's memorizing the shape of my mouth like he's been waiting for this longer than he'll admit.

I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and the groan that escapes him sends a shiver down my spine. The sound sparks something in me, something hungry, something desperate. I kiss him harder, chasing that feeling, letting it consume me.

We move without thinking, without breaking apart, until the backs of his knees hit the couch, and he sinks down onto it, pulling me with him. I straddle his lap, my hands still buried in his hair, his fingers pressing into my waist. The movie flickers on in the background, long forgotten.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and the way he hums against my mouth makes my breath hitch.

By the time we finally pull back for air, his pupils are blown, his chest rising and falling beneath me.

I've never seen him like this before—eyes dark, lips slightly parted, expression unreadable.

And God, I want more.

"I want you," I whisper as our foreheads connect, our breaths mixing together.

"You sur-"

"Subin."

He crashes his lips against mine, the kiss messy and desperate. His tongue brushes against my lips, asking for permission, and I part them without hesitation. When he nips at my lower lip, a moan slips out before I can stop it, and he groans in response, his hips bucking involuntarily.

It's only then that I feel just how hard he is, and the realization sends a rush of heat through me, leaving me breathless.

"Bed. Now," I murmur against his lips, and he doesn't hesitate. In one swift motion, he lifts me into his arms, kissing me fiercely as he stumbles toward my room. We both chuckle into the kiss, the urgency laced with amusement before he finally reaches the bed and sets me down.

He tugs off his hoodie without breaking eye contact, revealing his bare chest. My gaze trails over him, taking in the definition I hadn't quite expected, the way his muscles shift as he moves.

I bite my lip, fighting back a grin, but from the way his eyes darken, I know he notices.

"You mind if I?" Subin murmurs, nodding toward my lower body, his voice thick with anticipation.

I swallow, my pulse hammering as I give a slight nod and scoot back on the bed.

He follows, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips find mine again, softer this time, almost reverent. There's something mesmerizing about the way he kisses me—like he's savoring every second. He trails a path down my jaw, then lowers it, his breath warm against my skin. My body arches instinctively as he reaches for the hem of my hoodie, his fingers grazing my sides as he lifts it over my head, my shirt coming off with it.

His gaze darkens as he takes me in, but he says nothing—just presses a lingering kiss to my sternum before continuing downward. Every touch, every brush of his lips against my skin, sends a shiver through me. He pauses at the waistband of my shorts, glancing up through his lashes, silently asking.

Another nod.

The fabric is gone in an instant, leaving me bare beneath him. He lets out a quiet, satisfied hum, his hands firm on my thighs as he pulls me closer. The heat between us is nearly unbearable, my skin burning everywhere he touches.

"Subin," I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. "Please."

His lips curve into a smirk against my skin, teasing, testing my patience. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open, and I feel his breath against me—warm, tantalizing, making my head spin.

The first brush of his lips is gentle, almost unbearably so, sending a shockwave through my body. My breath catches as he finds a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands keeping me exactly where he wants me. A strangled moan escapes me before I can stop it, my fingers tangling in the sheets as I fight for control.

But control is slipping—fast.

My body reacts before my mind can process it, arching into him, desperate for more. The pressure builds, unbearable and intoxicating all at once. The world narrows to the sensation of his touch, the way he reads my body so effortlessly, coaxing sounds from me I didn't know I was capable of making.

A sharp gasp leaves my lips as he changes pace, teasing, pulling me to the edge only to draw me back. I don't realize I'm begging until the words tumble out between breathless moans.

"More," I plead. "Please, more—"

Subin hums in satisfaction, the vibration sending another shudder through me. His fingers join the slow, intoxicating rhythm, pushing me closer and closer until the pressure finally snaps.

I come undone with a strangled cry, the pleasure crashing over me in waves, my vision hazy as I struggle to catch my breath.

When I finally open my eyes, he's already moving, crawling back up to meet me, his lips capturing mine in a slow, lingering kiss.

"Holy shit," I pant against his mouth, still breathless.

He chuckles, brushing his nose against mine. "Gonna be honest—I didn't think you had it in you."

A breathy laugh escapes him. "Ouch."

"Well, I'll have you know—that was just the beginning." His voice is low and teasing, lips grazing my jaw as he speaks. "Up for more?"

A thrill rushes through me, my pulse quickening all over again. But I'm not about to let him take the lead this time.

"Aht," I murmur, flipping us over in one swift motion. His eyes widen, startled, before he lets out a low, surprised chuckle.

"My turn."

He barely has time to react before I'm kissing him, slow and purposeful, trailing down his neck. His breath hitches as I find a sensitive spot, his hands twitching at his sides.

"You're so beautiful, YN," he murmurs, his voice rough with admiration.

I pause, lips still brushing his skin. "You can't say stuff like that."

"What?" He exhales sharply when I nip at his collarbone. "I'm telling the tru—ahh—" His words cut off as I continue my descent, leaving him breathless beneath me.

I smirk against his skin. "Stop talking."

And then I go lower.

Slowly and deliberately, I trail my lips down his neck, savoring the way his breath hitches beneath me. My hands roam over his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense under my touch as I move lower. When I reach his waistband, I glance up through my lashes, then tug at the fabric with my teeth.

"Mind if I?" I murmur, a teasing lilt in my voice, throwing his own words back at him.

He exhales a breathy laugh, though his voice is rough when he replies. "Ha ha, very funny."

But the humor barely lingers as I pull his pants and boxers down, freeing him. He's painfully hard, the tip flushed deep red, glistening in the dim light. I take a moment to admire him, wrapping my fingers around his thick length, barely able to close my hand around him.

"Jesus, YN," he breathes, his head falling back against the pillow as I give him a slow stroke. His hand twitches at his side like he's fighting the urge to grab and guide me.

I let my lips ghost over him, just barely touching, teasing. "Impatient?"

He lets out a low groan, lifting his head to glare down at me. "You have no idea."

I smirk, but before he can say anything else, I take him into my mouth, inch by inch.

A sharp inhale leaves him, his fingers threading into my hair as I begin to move. I start slow, testing, teasing, feeling the way he shudders each time my tongue swirls around him. With every downward motion, I take him deeper, feeling his grip tighten slightly, his restraint slipping.

"Fuck," he hisses, his voice strained. "Feels so—shit, just like that."

On the next descent, I pause halfway, letting my tongue press against that sensitive spot just beneath his tip. His reaction is instant—a deep, guttural moan as his grip in my hair tightens, his thighs trembling beneath my palms. He's holding himself back, barely. I can feel it in the way his muscles tense, in the way his hips twitch, fighting the urge to thrust deeper.

"God, YN, you're gonna drive me insane," he groans, voice shaky.

I smirk around him, giving his thigh a reassuring squeeze before I start moving again. This time, I hollow my cheeks, increasing the suction. The effect is immediate. His breaths turn ragged, his moans raw, his fingers flexing in my hair with every stroke.

"Shit—" His voice cuts off into a choked gasp as I take him deeper, my tongue teasing along the underside.

"You're—fuck—you're so good at this," he breathes out, his head dropping back against the pillows. "I—God, I wanna—"

He stops himself, breathing heavily, hands tightening in my hair like he's barely holding on.

I pull back slightly, stroking him slowly, looking up at him. "What do you want, Subin?"

His half-lidded eyes meet mine, dark and desperate. "I wanna come, but—fuck—I don't wanna stop."

His words send a thrill through me, and I hum around him in response. The vibrations make him shudder, his whole body tensing.

"Shit, YN—" He swears under his breath, his thighs trembling. "I'm close. You need to—"

His hand moves as if to gently pull me away, but I press my palm against his abdomen, pushing him back down. Not yet.

"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back against the pillow. "You're really not gonna let me stop, huh?"

I shake my head, keeping my mouth on him, making sure he feels every inch of warmth, every flick of my tongue.

His restraint finally snaps. His hips jerk up, his hands tightening in my hair, and a deep, broken moan rips from his throat as he unravels completely.

I swallow every last drop, milking him through the aftershocks, until he finally lets out a shaky breath and pulls me off, the sensations too much.

I rest my head against his knee, licking my lips as the taste of him lingers on my tongue. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his hand dragging through his damp hair as he blinks down at me, still dazed.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice wrecked. "You're actually trying to kill me."

I smirk, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. "That was the plan."

His lips twitch, still catching his breath. "Evil."

I laugh softly, kissing his knee. "You love it."

He reaches for me then, tugging me up until I'm straddling his lap. His fingers thread through my hair, his eyes dark but playful as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"You're dangerous," he murmurs against my lips. "And I fucking love it."

I grin, letting my hands roam over his chest. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh, is that so?" he laughs and flips us over as begins to hover over me. His eyes scan over my face as if he's trying to memorize every inch of it before leaning down to kiss me deeply.

I moan softly, lifting my hips to press against him, feeling the heat of his body and the new hardness pressing between my thighs. A sharp inhale leaves his lips as he positions himself, sliding his length between my folds before pushing into me with one deep, unrelenting thrust.

I gasp, pleasure and the slight sting of fullness mixing into something intoxicating. My fingers grasp at his arms, needing something to hold onto.

"Move, please," I beg, voice breathless.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, he obeys, setting a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against mine with an intensity that has me unraveling in seconds.

"Harder. Please. Harder," I plead, needing more.

A groan rumbles from his throat as he shifts, angling himself just right, his thrusts now deeper, sharper, faster. His fingers dig into my hips with a bruising grip, as if he's afraid to let go. My moans echo through the room, feeding his desire, and his own noises—low, desperate, absolutely sinful—only push me further toward the edge.

I claw at his back, nails raking against taut muscle, trying to ground myself in the overwhelming pleasure. My orgasm builds rapidly, my body coiling tight as I pant his name. He already knows. He can feel it.

"I want you to cum for me, baby," he rasps, voice rough with restraint.

I whimper at the pet name, clinging to him, needing to feel him everywhere.

"Subin..."

"I've got you, gorgeous. Let go for me."

With one more deep thrust, pleasure crashes over me in violent waves. I cry out, body shaking beneath him, mind going blank except for the feeling of him.

Subin works me through it, slowing his movements just enough to let me breathe. When my body stops trembling, he gently rolls me onto my stomach. I try to lift my hips to accommodate him, but he presses me back down with a firm hand on my lower back.

"I've got this, pretty," he murmurs, lips grazing my ear. "Just get comfortable."

He slides into me again, his body covering mine like a heated blanket, his weight grounding me. The new angle has me gasping, pleasure striking through me like lightning.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, his breath hot against my skin. "You're so fucking beautiful."

I feel myself tightening around him. Each thrust sending me spiraling, my body a mess of sensitivity and pleasure. I can barely breathe, barely think.

"You're close again, aren't you?" His lips brush against my shoulder. "I can feel it."

I can only moan in response. My words lost in the pleasure he's giving me. His pace remains relentless, his hips driving me further into the mattress.

"Tell me what you need, pretty."

"Don't stop—" I gasp.

He doesn't. He knows exactly what I need, keeping his rhythm steady, dragging me toward another high. His lips hover over my shoulder, teasing, waiting—until he bites down gently, just enough to send me over the edge.

I scream his name, my body shattering around him, pleasure blinding and all-consuming.

He slows his motions but doesn't stop, still chasing his own release. He kisses the bite mark soothingly, whispering praises against my damp skin.

When my breathing steadies, Subin eases me onto my back, still buried deep inside me. He starts slow and gentle, letting me feel every inch of him as he waits for my eyes to meet his.

When I finally focus, he smiles down at me. "There you are."

"Subin..." I whisper voice barely there.

"I'm right here, baby." He strokes my cheek, his touch impossibly tender.

"I want you to finish," I say softly, running my fingers through his damp hair.

He groans, dropping his forehead against mine. "You keep squeezing me and looking at me like that, and I'm a goner."

A weak smirk tugs at my lips, and I clench around him just to prove a point. He gasps, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck," he breathes.

"Cum for me, please," I whisper, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

His body tenses, his rhythm faltering as he chases his release. "S-so close," he pants.

I wrap my legs around him, holding him tight, my palm pressing gently against his cheek, forcing him to keep his eyes on me. His thrusts grow erratic, his breath hitching, and then—

"YN—" he groans, his body shuddering as he finally lets go, spilling into me with a deep, guttural moan.

His hips slow to a stop, his body trembling slightly as he presses kisses against my flushed skin. He stays inside me for a moment, letting the aftershocks settle before finally collapsing onto me, breathless and spent.

For a while, neither of us speak, both lost in the lingering warmth of each other. Then, finally, he exhales a breathy laugh.

"Fucking hell," he murmurs, voice still wrecked. "That was... wow."

I smile, tracing my fingers lazily along his back. "Yeah," I whisper. "Wow."

He lifts his head, looking down at me with tired but adoring eyes. "You okay?"

I nod, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "More than okay."

His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. "Good," he murmurs, letting his eyes slip closed.

As we both come down from our highs, the heat between us settling into a quiet hum, Subin lets out a deep breath and presses one last kiss to my shoulder before rolling onto his back. For a few moments, the only sounds in the room are our breathing and the faint rustling of the sheets.

Then, he props himself up on one elbow, glancing down at me. "You okay, pretty?" His voice is rough, still laced with exhaustion and satisfaction.

I nod, stretching slightly. "Yeah. Just... tired."

He smirks. "I would hope so."

I roll my eyes, too spent to fire back. Instead, I groan as I attempt to sit up, but Subin is already moving. "Stay put," he says, pushing himself off the bed. "I'll be back."

I watch him walk toward the bathroom, his bare back disappearing behind the door. A few seconds later, I hear the water running. When he returns, he has a warm, damp towel in his hand.

"You really don't have to—" I start, but he raises a brow, giving me a look that immediately shuts me up.

"Relax," he says, kneeling onto the bed. "Let me take care of you."

I sigh, letting my head fall back against the pillow as he gently wipes between my legs, cleaning me up with slow, careful movements. I squirm slightly at the sensitivity, but he keeps his touch light. When he's done, he tosses the towel toward the laundry hamper and leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my thigh before pulling the blankets up over me.

"Better?" he asks, slipping back under the covers beside me.

"Much," I murmur, already feeling the pull of sleep.

Subin lets out a satisfied hum and tugs me against him, his body warm against mine. "Good. Because I'm not carrying your ass to the shower."

I laugh sleepily, my fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. "Noted."

After we both showered and dressed, the sun has fully set, casting a soft glow through the window. The night air hums with distant city sounds, a soothing backdrop as we lie tangled together in bed, warmth radiating between us.

"So," Subin starts, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my arm. "How was it?"

I glance up at him. "Are you seriously asking if the sex was good?" I laugh, rolling my eyes.

"Jeez, YN." He scoffs, feigning offense. "I was asking how it felt to do absolutely nothing all day. But, hey, if that's where your mind went..." He smirks.

I nudge his side, suppressing a grin. "Well, for starters, I wouldn't exactly call what we did 'nothing.' But yeah, it was nice. No responsibilities, no stress... just us." As I speak, I absentmindedly intertwine our fingers, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine.

"See? Lazy day was a success!" He fist-pumps triumphantly.

I snort. "You're such a nerd."

"Oh, really?" His voice takes on a mischievous lilt. Before I can react, his fingers find my sides, tickling me mercilessly.

"Stop, Subin—oh my god—" I gasp between uncontrollable laughter, squirming beneath him.

"Never!" he declares dramatically, peppering my face with playful kisses.

When he finally relents, I'm breathless, my stomach aching from laughter. He stretches with an exaggerated yawn. "On a serious note, I'm wiped. Wanna call it a night?" He starts to sit up, making me frown.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"To the doghouse," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"...What?"

"The couch," he clarifies. "You know, so I don't overstay my welcome."

I sit up, gaping at him. "Subin. You just had your tongue down my throat and—inside me. And now you think I'm making you sleep on the couch?"

He raises his hands in surrender. "Whoa. That was wildly vivid."

"Oh, now you want to act innocent?" I deadpan, patting the empty space beside me. "Get back here."

He shakes his head but climbs back in any way, grinning like an idiot. "You're funny," he murmurs, bopping my nose before flopping onto his side.

"Nerd."

He pulls me closer, burying his face in the crook of my neck with a deep, exaggerated sigh.

"Goodnight, beautiful," he mumbles sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of my head.

I smile against his skin, my body sinking into his warmth. "Goodnight, Subin."

I wake up to the sound of my bedroom door opening and closing, the soft creak of the hinges pulling me from sleep. The sunlight filtering through the blinds is just bright enough to sting my barely opened eyes, making me instantly regret waking up. I groan and burrow deeper into the sheets.

"Oh, you're up? I was just about to wake you," a familiar voice teases.

Blinking against the light, I force my eyes open to find Subin standing near the door, already dressed. He looks effortlessly put together, his tousled hair the only sign that he was in bed with me just moments ago. I frown at the realization.

"Running out on me already?" I mumble, voice still thick with sleep.

He chuckles, stepping closer. "I got a call from Nayeon. She needs me to cover her shift—something about her mom's car breaking down."

I stretch, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Ah, got it. No worries. Are we still on for tonight?"

"Of course. I should be off in time," he assures me, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips. It's warm, lingering just enough to make me wish he didn't have to leave.

He pulls back with a smirk. "If you miss me too much, you know where to find me."

"Smooth," I deadpan, though I can't help but smile. "Now go before you get yelled at. Again."

He groans dramatically. "You bring it up one time, and suddenly, it's a pattern."

I laugh, shooing him toward the door. He hesitates for a second, then calls over his shoulder, "Oh, by the way—I made you breakfast."

My head snaps up. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me!" he yells back, already halfway down the hall. "Enjoy it, princess!"

I roll my eyes, but warmth spreads through my chest. After a few more minutes of lounging, I finally drag myself out of bed, curiosity getting the better of me.

Padding into the kitchen, I stop in my tracks at the sight before me.

On the counter sits a beautifully plated breakfast—perfectly golden pancakes stacked neatly with fresh fruit and syrup drizzled over the top, alongside scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. A fresh cup of coffee stands beside it, and a small sticky note sits beside the plate.

I pick it up, smiling as I read Subin's messy scrawl:

"Breakfast for my queen. Hope it's edible. If not, pretend it is. See you tonight. :) - S"

I shake my head, a laugh escaping me as I take a seat at the counter. Picking up my fork, I take my first bite, and to my surprise—it's actually good.

"Okay, chef," I mutter under my breath, grinning as I eat.

Even though he's already gone, I feel his presence lingering in the apartment, and somehow, that makes the morning a little brighter. But, after finishing the last bite of breakfast, I sit at the counter for a few extra minutes, sipping my now-lukewarm coffee, staring at nothing in particular. The weight of tonight's engagement party slowly creep back into my mind, and with it, a wave of nerves.

I push the thought aside and force myself to move, heading toward the bathroom. Maybe a shower will help clear my head.

The warm water cascades over my shoulders, loosening my tense muscles, but my mind refuses to relax. Tonight should be a celebration—good food, good company, and, most importantly, Subin by my side. That alone should make me feel better. But I can't shake the nagging feeling that not everyone will be thrilled about my presence.

I think about the forced smiles and the passive-aggressive comments disguised as well-meaning advice. The silent stares from certain people who still see me as an outsider, no matter how much time has passed.

I let out a frustrated sigh, resting my forehead against the cool tile.

"It's just one night," I murmur to myself. "You can handle this."

Just as I shut off the water and step onto the bath mat, my phone buzzes from the sink. Wrapping a towel around myself, I glance at the screen.

Sonya.

I exhale, already knowing she's about to go full interrogation mode.

I swipe to answer, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I reach for my lotion. "Hey."

"Okay, tell me the truth," she says immediately. "On a scale of one to completely losing your mind, how stressed are you?"

I let out a breathy laugh. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? It is your engagement party, after all."

"Oh, please," she scoffs. "I'm thriving. The centerpieces are perfect, the playlist is fire, and my fiancé is obsessed with me. Nothing can ruin my night."

"Must be nice," I mutter, rubbing moisturizer onto my arms.

"Knew it," she sighs. "You always do this. It's just a party, babe."

"An engagement party," I correct, reaching for my hairbrush. "Big difference."

"Right, because people getting engaged totally means everyone else suddenly stops having basic human decency," she deadpans.

I snort, shaking my head. "You say that like you don't remember how these things go."

"I do remember," she says. "I also remember that you're not the same person you were the last time you dealt with this kind of thing. And, hello, you have Subin now. That man is obsessed with you. Let him take some of the stress off your shoulders."

I pause, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "I know. I just—"

"Just what?" she presses.

I hesitate. "I guess I just don't want him to see... all of it. The weird looks, the whispered comments. The fact that some of them hate me."

Sonya is quiet for a second before sighing. "Did you tell him about everything? About Seungcheol?"

I chew on my lip. "Last night."

Her silence is loaded. "And?"

"And..." I take a deep breath. "He took it well, actually. He listened, asked questions, and didn't judge me. When I told him about the accident, how things spiraled after that, and how messy it all got the second, I saw everyone again after two years... he didn't flinch. He didn't run."

Sonya lets out a soft hum as if processing the situation. "Okay, that is a good sign."

I let out a short laugh. "Right? I mean, considering everything? I wouldn't have blamed him if he did."

"Well, I would," she says flatly. "Because he's not some random guy. He knows you. He wants to know you. And if he stuck around after hearing all of that? It means he's serious, YN. He's in this."

I swallow, letting her words sink in. "Yeah. I guess he is."

"And that means tonight? You don't have to face it alone."

I exhale, rubbing a hand down my face. "Yeah."

"Speaking of tonight," she continues, "Jihoon and Jeonghan can stay mad about the whole Seungcheol situation if they want. And Seungcheol? He can pout all he wants. They finally know the truth about why you left, and yeah, they have the right to be upset about how things played out, but if they can't at least accept it? If they can't let it go? Then you need to move on."

I close my eyes, gripping the bathroom counter.

"You did what you felt you had to do," Sonya reminds me. "You don't owe them anything. And you especially don't owe Seungcheol your guilt. He, of all people, should know that was the hardest decision you've ever made. So, if he wants to sulk, let him. If Jihoon and Jeonghan want to be bitter, let them. But you?" She pauses for emphasis. "You deserve to have fun tonight. You deserve to enjoy yourself, with your man next to you, at a party that has nothing to do with all that old drama."

I exhale slowly.

"You're right," I finally admit. "You're annoyingly right."

"I usually am." I can practically hear her smirk. "Now, are you gonna stop spiraling and start getting hyped for tonight?"

"I'll try," I laugh.

"That's all I ask."

I hear a muffled voice in the background, followed by Sonya groaning. "Ugh, I have to go—apparently, I'm 'needed' at work. Disgusting. But I better get a full recap after the party."

"Of course," I say, a small smile forming. "Thanks, Sonya."

"Anytime, babe."

As the call disconnects, I take a deep breath, standing a little taller. Maybe tonight won't be as bad as I'm making it out to be. Maybe, with Subin next to me, I can handle whatever comes my way.

And if not? At least I'll have Sonya to vent to afterward.

I spend the next few hours mentally preparing for the evening ahead. To ease my nerves, I indulge in a comprehensive self-care routine.

I start with a full skincare regimen, applying a soothing face mask and allowing it to work its magic as I lounge on the couch, ambient music playing softly in the background. After thirty minutes, I rinse off the mask, feeling a renewed sense of calm.

Returning to the bathroom, I meticulously pluck my eyebrows, ensuring they frame my face just right. I then section my hair, carefully rolling each piece into curlers, anticipating the soft waves they'll create.

As the hours pass, I focus on the positive, envisioning laughter, reconnections, and the joy of celebrating Sonya's special moment. With each step of my routine, I feel more grounded, ready to face whatever the evening holds.

As the final hour before the engagement party ticks away, I find myself standing before my closet, deliberating over what to wear. The anticipation of the evening's events mingles with a lingering apprehension, but I remind myself of Sonya's unwavering support and Subin's steadfast presence.

I select an outfit that exudes confidence—a deep emerald dress that complements my complexion and brings out the warmth in my eyes. As I slip it on, the fabric feels like a protective armor, bolstering my resolve. I remove the rollers from my hair, letting soft waves cascade over my shoulders, and apply makeup that enhances my features without masking them.

With each step of my preparation, I focus on the positive aspects of the evening: celebrating Sonya's happiness, reconnecting with old friends, and introducing Subin to the people who have shaped my past. I take a moment to breathe deeply, centering myself and embracing the excitement that now outweighs my anxiety.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The reflection staring back is one of strength, resilience, and readiness. Tonight is not just about facing the past; it's about embracing the present and looking forward to the future.

My phone vibrating brings me out of my thoughts, and I walk over to see a text from Dokyeom.

New Message: Not Donkey Kong 😔: Please tell me you haven't backed out and are still coming tonight

I sigh. I love Dokyeom. And I hate that he's in the middle of all this drama. He's probably the most kind-hearted person out of all of us and definitely an empath. I know he's just looking out for me, so I unlocked my phone to respond.

Me: Kyeomie. I wouldn't miss tonight for the world. Don't worry about me so much, okay?

New Message: Not Donkey Kong 😔: Whew. That's a relief!!! (✿ŎヮŎ) cheer up, YN!!

Just as I hit the heart reaction on Dokyeom's text, a knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. I assume it's Subin, so I smooth down the fabric of my dress, do a quick once-over in the mirror, and head toward the door.

But when I open it, my breath catches in my throat.

Subin stands there, looking—well, amazing is an understatement. He's dressed in a sleek black suit, the jacket perfectly tailored to his frame, the dark fabric contrasting against his warm skin. The top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone, revealing just a hint of his collarbone, and his hair is styled effortlessly like he just ran his fingers through it, and somehow it turned out perfect.

His eyes flicker over me in return, widening slightly before a slow, appreciative smile spreads across his lips.

"Wow," he exhales, stepping closer. "You look... stunning."

I feel heat rush to my cheeks as I tuck a loose curl behind my ear. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

He tilts his head, smirking. "Pretty well? That's all I get?"

I roll my eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Okay, fine. You look ridiculously good."

"That's more like it," he chuckles, then reaches out, his fingers gently brushing my waist before settling there. "Are you ready?"

I take a deep breath, nodding. "As I'll ever be."

Subin searches my face as if checking for any signs of doubt. "Hey," he murmurs, squeezing my waist. "No matter what happens tonight, you've got me, okay?"

His words settle something deep inside me, the lingering nerves still present but slightly less suffocating. I nod again, more sure this time. "Okay."

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before stepping back and offering his arm. "Then let's go show them how good we look together."

I laugh, linking my arm with his. "You just want to make everyone jealous, don't you?"

"Absolutely," he grins. "And because you deserve to enjoy tonight. No weird looks, no whispered comments—just us celebrating Sonya."

I squeeze his arm as we step out the door. Maybe tonight won't be so bad after all.

The drive to the venue is quiet at first, the soft hum of the car filling the silence between us. The city lights blur past the window, a gentle reminder of how much time has passed since I was last here, last surrounded by all the people I once called my closest friends.

Subin glances over at me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console. "You're doing that thing again," he says lightly.

I blink, turning toward him. "What thing?"

"That thing where you get stuck in your head," he replies, stealing another glance at me before focusing back on the road. "Whatever you're overthinking, stop."

I huff out a small laugh. "Easier said than done."

He chuckles, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "Alright, then, let's get your mind off it. How about this—if you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?"

I tilt my head, considering it. "Anywhere?"

"Anywhere," he confirms.

I pretend to think for a second before smirking. "Somewhere far away from this party."

Subin laughs, shaking his head. "Okay, that was too easy. But really, if you could be anywhere, no obligations, no expectations—just you, picking a place."

I sigh, leaning back against the seat. "Maybe... a quiet beach somewhere. Somewhere warm, with soft sand and water so clear you can see straight to the bottom."

He hums in approval. "That sounds nice."

"What about you?" I ask.

Subin grins. "Same place, but only if you're there too."

I roll my eyes, but I can't fight the small smile tugging at my lips. "Smooth."

"Always," he teases, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

I glance down at our intertwined fingers, his thumb brushing soothing circles against my skin. The tension in my shoulders eases just a little.

"Thank you," I say softly, turning to him.

"For what?"

"For coming with me. For... making this easier."

Subin squeezes my hand again. "You don't have to thank me, YN. I'd follow you anywhere."

His words settle something deep in my chest, pushing away some of the lingering nerves.

As we pull up to the venue, I take one last deep breath.

Whatever happens tonight, at least I won't be facing it alone.

As we pull up to the venue, I take one last deep breath, steeling myself for what lies ahead. Subin turns off the engine, and for a moment, the quiet of the car wraps around us like a cocoon. I glance at him—his steady gaze and gentle smile remind me that, no matter what tonight brings, I'm not alone.

"Ready?" he asks softly, his hand still resting on mine.

I nod, swallowing away the last remnants of anxiety as we gather our things. The cool night air hits me as we step out of the car. The venue is bathed in a warm glow—string lights crisscross overhead, and soft laughter mingles with the hum of conversation. I can see familiar faces through the large windows, some smiling in recognition, others offering cautious glances.

Subin squeezes my hand. "Let's go show them how good we look together," he teases, a playful lilt in his voice.

I manage a small smile as we walk toward the entrance. Inside, the room buzzes with energy. The soft glow of chandeliers, the clink of glasses, and the murmur of reunions all blend together into a comforting symphony. I catch a few nods of acknowledgment from Sonya's family and even a few tentative smiles from those who might have once doubted my place here.

Sonya had mentioned that Joshua had reserved a private area just for us—and she wasn't kidding. We make our way to the roped-off section, and as we pass, several heads turn in our direction.

"Speak of the devil," Joshua calls out with a grin.

"Joshie, my goodness, it's so good to see you!" I hug him tightly.

"Looking beautiful as always. I've missed you," he says, letting go slowly, his eyes warm with genuine affection.

"Oh, stop it. I've missed you too—missed all of you!" I reply, moving through the small crowd to hug everyone. I awkwardly navigate around Seungcheol and the woman beside him.

"Jeon! Congratulations. I'm happy for you two," I say as I give him one last hug, and he places a friendly kiss on my cheek.

"About damn time!" DK chimes in, and we all burst into laughter.

"Hey, who's this, YN?" Chan asks, nodding toward the quiet figure lingering behind me.

"Oh, this is Subin—YN's friend," Sonya announces with a playful smirk. I sigh inwardly, feeling the weight of recent awkwardness.

"Sorry about that awkward encounter last week. We were just worried," she adds quickly.

Subin steps forward with an easy smile. "No need to apologize. You were just looking out for her. It's a pleasure to finally meet you—and congratulations to you both," he says, bowing slightly in a manner that makes everyone chuckle.

"Everyone, this is Subin," Sonya declares. I roll my eyes affectionately as I turn to him. "Subin, meet Jeonghan, Joshua, Soonyoung, the man of the hour Wonwoo, Jun, Mingyu, Minghao, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan—also known as Dino. You've kind of met DK and Jihoon already. And that's Seungcheol, and—sorry, I didn't catch your name," I say, nodding toward the stunning woman next to him.

She's striking: long, sleek black hair, a dazzling smile, a red dress that slips off her shoulders just enough, and matching deep red lipstick. I see Seungcheol tense beside her as she speaks.

"Hello! I'm Haneul. It's so nice to finally meet you; I've heard so much about you," she chirps brightly.

God, I hate how effortlessly kind she seems.

"Hm. Haneul, what a pretty name. Nice to meet you, too," I reply, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. I steal a glance at Jihoon, who's watching me, and offer a small wave—only to see him turn away, and it stings a little more than I'd like.

"Big friend group you've got there. You sure there's room for me?" Subin jokes and laughter ripple through the crowd—everyone except Jihoon and Seungcheol, whose expressions remain guarded.

"Ah, plenty of room. The more, the merrier, right?" Joshua adds with a light laugh.

"Well, now that introductions are over, let's get this party started!" I declare, and Sonya shoots me a look that's both amused and a little puzzled.

The room erupts in cheers as drinks are poured and conversations overlap. Subin and I find seats across from Seungcheol and Haneul. I can feel his eyes on me—steady, calculating—and it reminds me that tonight is bound to be complex.

I spend a moment absorbing the scene—the clink of glasses, the buzz of reuniting voices, and the undercurrent of tension in every sideways glance. Despite the festive chaos, my mind flickers back to all that I shared with Subin last night about Seungcheol, the accident, and how things got so messy the moment I reappeared after two long years.

Later, during a lull in the mingling, Sonya corners me near the bar. "So," she says in a hushed tone.

"Sonya, you know I love you. But, this is your party. You do not need to check on me every five minutes," I groan.

Before she can respond, Dokyeom makes his way over.

"You and Subin look cozy," DK teases, and I shoot him a playful glare.

"Not a dig, I swear! You two look good," he insists, grinning.

Sonya chimes in, "Yeah, so, what's the status on that?" Her tone is light but curious.

I roll my eyes. "It's not official, I think... I don't know. He's been staying over," I admit before their eyes practically pop out in shock.

"He what!?" they all exclaim in unison.

"Oh, my bestie finally got a man!" Sonya teases and I lightly smack her arm in mock reprimand.

"Speaking of," DK says from behind me, and I turn to see Subin approaching with two cups in hand.

"Those better both be for him," Sonya remarks as Subin hands me one of the cups. I offer her an awkward smile and clink my cup with his before downing the mysterious liquid. I scrunch my nose as the alcohol burns down my throat.

"I told them to surprise me. Remind me never to do that again," Subin grumbles, setting the cups aside.

Sonya shoots me an unamused look. "We'll talk about this later," she warns, and I roll my eyes in return.

"Jihoon's been shooting daggers at you all night," DK continues. "I get Seungcheol's grumpiness, but how come you two still haven't made up? We were always three peas in a pod."

I laugh, "It's two peas, Kyeomie. And besides, he'll get over it." I cringe when Seungcheol's name is mentioned.

DK's expression darkens. "You get what I mean. He's been up Jeonghan's ass all night, too. Won't even drink with me. Why's he mad at me!?" he pouts dramatically.

I put my hands up in surrender. "Love, can we table this? Tonight's about Wonwoo and Sonya. Save the intervention for later—just give him time."

He sighs, clearly frustrated. "Whatever. I'm going to find Mingyu," he mutters, storming off.

"Seokmin, come on!" I call after him, trying to stop him, but Sonya places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Let it go. Enjoy the night," she says softly before walking away.

I lean back, smiling to myself. Even amidst all the teasing and drama, it's moments like these—full of laughter, banter, and genuine care—that remind me why tonight is worth embracing.

Subin sits on the stool next to me and places his hand on my knee.

"How are we feeling?"

I sigh. "Honestly, it could be worse. Enough drama, though. How are you? They seem to like you. Well, most of them, anyways," I let out a breathy laugh.

"I'm alright. If it becomes too much, just say the words, and we can leave," he squeezes my hand, and I give him a small nod.

"You should mingle. I want to check on DK, and I need to stop avoiding Jihoon—for his sake," I say firmly, pulling away with determined resolve.

"Good luck," Subin replies, kissing me one last time before we part.

I stride over to the table where Jihoon, DK, and Seungcheol are gathered, their faces drawn into a silent tableau. The room's buzz seems to pause around us for a moment.

"This is a sight for sore eyes," I remark, attempting to pierce the tension. Jihoon scoffs.

"I thought you two were just friends?" he mutters under his breath.

"Is that all you have to say? Really? Come on, Jihoon," I plead, frustration lacing my tone.

"Not mad. Just... I have nothing to say," he replies coolly, his eyes avoiding mine.

I lean over toward Seungcheol. "Is he giving you the silent treatment, too?" I ask, trying to catch even a flicker of concern in his gaze.

Seungcheol merely shrugs, his expression unreadable, his tone flat. "Pretty much."

That is the final straw. I straighten up, my voice rising over the pulsing music. "Alright, listen up!" I snap louder than I intended. "I know this isn't ideal, but can you guys at least pretend to care about your best friends getting engaged? Put your pride aside for two fucking seconds!"

For a split second, their eyes—some amused, some indifferent—are on me.

"What she said!" DK chimes in.

"And you, Seokmin, stop instigating," I added sharply.

"Hey!" Seokmin protests.

I turn back to Seungcheol, my gaze piercing. "Seungcheol, you're here with a beautiful woman, why are you sitting there pouting like you couldn't care less? Go dance with her! Jihoon, find a cute girl to dance with—or even dance with Seokmin if that's your style. Stop being mopey and act like you care about something other than yourselves tonight!"

The words hang in the air. Jihoon grumbles, "Alright, alright! Damn," and he stands, clapping DK on the back. "Seungcheol, if I have to, so do you. Get up," Jihoon adds with a nudge.

Seungcheol finally stands and grabs his crutch, his movement is sluggish, his eyes cold and indifferent as if my outburst barely registers. "Still scaring people, I see," he mutters, his voice void of any real emotion. His detached gaze sends a jolt through me—a reminder that beneath all this chaos, some wounds run deeper than playful banter.

"Told you. She hasn't changed," DK jokes and the rest of them start to disperse under my parting death glare.

For a moment, the tension lingers like a heavy fog, and I can't help but feel that sting of indifference from Seungcheol as it slices through the festive atmosphere. The noise of the party swells back around us, but a piece of my mind remains fixed on his icy detachment.

Two hours later, after rallying Jihoon, DK, and the others into a semblance of celebration, I find myself immersed in the dance floor's energy. The music pulses through my body, and laughter mingles with the clink of glasses. I let the moment wash over me, trying to forget that earlier confrontation.

Yet, even amid the swirling joy, I can't shake the memory of Seungcheol's unmoved expression. His indifference lingers like an aftertaste, a stark contrast to the warmth of our shared memories. Still, I push it aside. Tonight, I'm here to celebrate new beginnings—even if some old ghosts refuse to be exorcised completely.

As I dance with friends, I catch glimpses of their encouraging smiles, and even Jihoon eventually joins in, his earlier aloofness replaced with reluctant amusement. DK claps me on the back during a particularly energetic song, and for a fleeting moment, the night feels bright, unburdened by past dramas.

In the midst of it all, I steal a glance toward the quieter corner of the room, where Seungcheol stands apart, still wrapped in his-whatever you want to call it. A mixture of longing and frustration wells up in me—but then Subin squeezes my hand, grounding me with his reassuring warmth.

With each beat of the music, I choose to let the laughter and camaraderie carry me forward. Tonight, I decide, I will dance, I will celebrate, and I will embrace every moment—knowing that despite the lingering shadows, I am not defined by them. And if Seungcheol's indifference remains, so be it. I have Subin, I have friends, and most importantly, I have the strength to keep moving toward a happier tomorrow.

As the night slowly winds down, the energy in the room begins to shift. The once pulsating beat of the music softens, and the vibrant chatter mellows into gentle murmurs. Groups that had been dancing wildly now huddle in small clusters, sharing stories and laughter laced with fatigue and contentment. Some guests, still buoyant on a heady mix of excitement and alcohol, stagger out with bright, unsteady smiles, while others lean back into worn couches or chairs, their eyes heavy with tired joy.

I watch as the party gradually empties. Glasses clink softly on nearly empty tables, and the once-busy dance floor now hosts only the occasional slow sway of a few lingering souls. In the midst of it all, Subin catches my eye and offers a warm, understanding smile—a silent promise that our night isn't over just yet.

Just then, as the final strains of music begin to fade, Subin moves closer. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he leans in and whispers, "One last dance?"

I can feel my heart skip a beat at his request. Without hesitation, I take his hand, and together, we step onto the near-empty dance floor. The soft lights bathe us in a gentle glow as we sway slowly, our bodies moving in quiet harmony. The world around us has nearly vanished, leaving only the rhythmic pulse of our hearts and the lingering warmth of the night.

As our final song drifts softly over the dance floor, I catch a glimpse of Seungcheol standing abruptly, his face a mix of anger and sadness. Without a word, he slips away from the group, leaving an uneasy silence in his wake. For a split second, I worry—wondering if his departure might cast a shadow over the night.

But just as the tension begins to rise, Sonya and Wonwoo make their way over, grinning and determined to turn the moment around.

"Alright, let's show them how it's done," Wonwoo declares, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Before I can protest, Subin slides back, giving my Wonwoo permission, and a lighthearted ritual quickly unfolds. Subin and Wonwoo take turns dancing with me—a slow, teasing waltz that blends silly twirls with genuine laughter. Every awkward step becomes a joke, every shared glance a burst of fun that chases away the earlier gloom.

As if catching the contagious joy, Sonya can't resist any longer. With a bright laugh, she steps onto the dance floor, joining in the merriment. Soon, Subin, Sonya, and Wonwoo rotate partners, swapping off with me in a series of impromptu slow dances. Our playful banter fills the air, and even as I steal a fleeting glance at the spot where Seungcheol had been, the energy around me feels overwhelmingly joyful.

In the midst of our dancing, Jihoon steps onto the floor and catches Subin's eye with a questioning look. Before I know it, Subin gently takes my hand and places it in Jihoon's, then makes his way back to the table. I meet Jihoon's gaze, and unexpectedly, tears begin to well up in my eyes. He sighs, lowering his voice as if afraid the noise might shatter the fragile moment.

"YN, I'm sorry," he says softly.

I remain silent for a beat, the memories of that long-ago day at the park—the promise we made to stay together no matter what—flashing unbidden through my mind. Finally, Jihoon continues, his tone laced with regret. "I just... I don't know what got over me. I couldn't help but think about that day at the park when we promised we'd never let anything tear us apart. And then you left... I never understood why. It's not fair to you, and I am so sorry."

Tears stain my cheeks as his words sink in. "You hurt me, Ji," I manage to whisper, the pain of abandonment mingling with the bittersweet nostalgia of lost promises.

"I know. I'm sorry," he replies, his voice barely audible, before pulling me into a tight, apologetic hug that speaks of longing and regret.

After a moment, he releases me gently. "Subin seems good for you. I'm happy you have him," Jihoon adds, glancing sideways at Subin, who now watches from a distance with quiet composure.

I pull back, meeting Jihoon's eyes, a small, rueful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Are you saying you enjoy him?" I tease softly, the tension easing into a fragile humor.

"Don't make it weird," Jihoon retorts with a playful roll of his eyes. "I now understand that you did what you needed to do."

A charged silence passes between us—a mixture of apology, acceptance, and the unspoken acknowledgment that things have changed. Then, with a slight shrug and a tentative smile, Jihoon turns back toward the edge of the dance floor, leaving me with a heart that feels both heavy and strangely hopeful.

In that moment, surrounded by the fading energy of the night and the lingering warmth of our impromptu slow dance, I realize that tonight is a tapestry of emotions—joy, regret, acceptance, and the promise of new beginnings. And though the past still echoes in the quiet corners of my heart, I'm learning to embrace the present, one step—and one dance—at a time.

Sonya catches my arm and pulls me aside near the bar. Her eyes, usually brimming with playful mischief, now hold genuine concern.

"Hey, YN," she says quietly, "what was that conversation with Jihoon all about?"

I pause, glancing over at the remnants of our earlier dance with Jihoon and the others. Taking a slow breath, I meet her gaze. "It wasn't anything explosive," I reply softly. "Just a quiet understanding between us. I guess I realized that, despite everything, it's all going to be okay."

Sonya's expression relaxes, and a small, reassuring smile tugs at her lips. "That's good to hear," she murmurs. "I just needed to know you're alright."

"I am," I say, giving her a gentle squeeze of my hand. "Sometimes a quiet moment says more than all the drama in the world."

With that, Sonya nods and gives me one final hug before Subin and I head out. I step away, still feeling the warmth of her embrace as if it were a promise that everything will be alright. Outside, the cool night air greets us like a gentle reminder that a new day is on the horizon. Subin catches my hand as we make our way toward the exit, his grip firm and reassuring.

I glance back at the fading lights of the venue, letting the lingering hum of laughter and music sink in for a moment—a farewell to the chaos of the night and a silent vow to carry its lessons forward. "Everything's going to be okay," I whisper to myself, echoing the quiet understanding I just shared with Sonya.

Subin smiles at me, and in that smile, I see both comfort and resolve. "Let's go," he says softly, and together we step into the night, leaving behind the remnants of a bittersweet evening. Each step away feels like a small act of defiance against the past—a step toward new beginnings.

35 notes · View notes

moonbeam-dragon · 1 year ago

Text

Prinxiety Fluff Drabble

Virgil wasn't huge on touch. He just never enjoyed it. He had gone a long time without any sort of hugging or even brushing someone's hand. It didn't upset him. He liked his space. He liked his privacy. He liked feeling cold and set apart.

He wasn't with Janus and Remus anymore. He wasn't exactly with Roman, Logan, and Patton at the time, either. He didn't have anyone emotionally close to him, so he didn't let anyone physically close to him. He didn't feel a need to touch humans.

That was until he accidentally took Roman's hand. Virgil blamed Patton for the situation that followed. Virgil hadn't minded it. He'd been flustered and irritated. But the touch itself didn't hurt. In fact, it felt great. Roman's hand had been warm and soft, only slightly calloused. He wanted that kind of gentle, calming contact again. But that meant asking for it. That meant having to be close to one of them. So that was a no. He didn't need anymore touch.

+++

Virgil tucked his face into Roman's shoulder, absorbing the prince's warmth.

It had been such a long day of trying to create something. Videos demanded ideas, which triggered stress and anxiety. By the time they'd come up with something good and started on it, Roman and Virgil were exhausted. Virgil was still shaking from the small anxiety attack they'd managed to give Thomas. They never meant to upset him so much. It was part of the process. Granted, that had been happening less and less lately. He supposed that was good.

The stress had thoroughly exhausted both Sides and they'd retreated to their own rooms. Logan and Patton were used to it. They hardly ever ate dinner as a group anymore. They didn't really need to eat anyways. It had just been a nice thing that they could do to be together. Now Virgil only really ate when he stole snacks to eat while watching endless conspiracy videos. They heard Logan and Patton in the kitchen, eating dinner themselves. They didn't care to join. Neither had the energy to have any sort of social interaction. Virgil only gathered the energy to put on his skeleton onesie, go to Roman's room, and collapse next to the prince.

Somehow, Roman had enough strength to move their bodies closer. Virgil didn't object in any way. Roman knew what he was and wasn't comfortable with. Besides, it wasn't often that Virgil was comfortable with being so close. It was a special moment to cherish if the emo let himself be cuddled this way.

So Roman lay there, holding Virgil to his chest, cozy.

#this isn't much #but it's been sitting in my docs for a while #maybe someone will like it #sanders sides #sanders sides drabble #thomas sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #roman sanders sides #tss roman #virgil sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders sides #tss virgil #roman x virgil #virgil x roman #prinxiety #prinxiety fluff #prinxiety drabble

87 notes · View notes

shepscapades · 11 months ago

Text

Finally: The Official DBHC Etho Reference Sheet!

I had to clarify that the “current” look is for Season 9, because I’m not sure how or if he’ll change for s10 yet! The “current” version is essentially his updated “default” look! Thought I might mention also that “Back Around” on the loose timeline lineup at the bottom is a reference to a song on his playlist in which he takes some time away from everyone after re-deviating to re-remember and find himself <3

Side note: Etho wears his mask under his chin mostly just around bdubs, but he starts wearing it down more often around doc, tango, or others who are used to seeing the damage. More than anything else, he’s sure to keep it for protection purposes when he’s outside working, exploring, or anything else that isn’t just hanging and chatting with friends :]

2K notes · View notes

sergle · 1 year ago

Text

there is something so crazy about the cognitive dissonance between 50% of my online art presence coming from self portraits of my own body in a resting position, where it's received specifically as fat art, people refer to it as body positive / plus sized (or sometimes bbw content. it's whatever), the notes are like yeeesss this made me feel so good abt my body, stretch marks rolls etc fat women are beautiful 🙌🙌 and then I take a picture Standing Upright, and then some of Same people who have literally Seen My Body Before go ummm... what tha hell. you are LITERALLY thin ?! you are literally doing this.

#(sits down and lays down) fat body #(stands up straight) thin body #...OKAY?#the pounds didn't change between these two positions #and neither have my lifelong experiences of living in This Body #girl these are the SAME WOMEN. I stay fat while sitting standing walking laying down etc. I know it's hard to understand.#like oh thank god you identified it for me. apparently I must've been drawing thin women this whole time too #like you have gotta try harder to not be so annoying.#you've GOT to.#sergle answers #i'm not 'thin' you're just not used to seeing my torso. but can you come w me to see my doc. maybe he'll stop encouraging me to lose weight

369 notes · View notes

thetarttfuldickhead · 1 year ago

Text

Fic: Roy & Jamie & and that time when Jamie was NOT in a car crash

With ten minutes left until training officially began and still no sign of Jamie, there were a few raised eyebrows and murmurs and Isaac telling Will to put the player down for a 100 quid fine, but no one thought to be worried. People ran late, sometimes. Not usually Jamie, no, but Colin figured there was a first time for everything. Besides, he was busy listening to Bumbercatch explain the intricacies of post-Brexit labour shortages and the way it served to reproduce notions of capitalist realism, none of which Colin understood, but Bumbercatch was at his fittest when he was passionate and mysterious so Colin hung on to his every word all the same.

When Roy stepped into the dressing room a little while later and noticed the distinct lack of number 9 and rang Jamie to demand where the hell he was only to receive no answer, a slight sense of unease settled over the room, though Colin suspected that had more to to with the sinister look on Coach’s face rather than any real fear that Jamie might be in danger (at least not until he showed up and had to deal with Coach anyway).

And then they heard about the car crash.

---

It was Sam who – always eager to play peacemaker, bless him – checked his phone to see if Jamie had left any messages in the group chat to explain his absence, and Sam who went very quiet and stared at his screen in silence for so long that everyone else fell silent too and turned to stare at him. Never a good sign, that sort of silence in the dressing room.

“Yo, bruv, he write something?” Isaac asked when it became apparent that Sam was not going to volunteer whatever information he had found.

“No, nothing,” Sam said. “But… “

“But fucking what?” Roy demanded, words sharp and jagged like broken glass.

“There’s been a car crash,” Sam’s voice was quiet and slow and reluctant. “A big one, not far from Jamie’s house. At least two people are dead, and several injured. It doesn’t say anything about Jamie,” he quickly added into the collective intake of horrified breath. “I’m sure he’s perfectly fine.”

“Yeah,” Thierry agreed quickly. “He probably just got delayed because it caused a traffic jam or something.”

Eager nods around room, and Colin found himself nodding along because of course that was the most reasonable explanation, of course Jamie hadn’t— he wasn’t—

“But then why didn’t he pick up his phone?” Bumbercatch asked. “Or call to say he’d be late?”

A relevant question, and as with most of Moe’s questions, without a ready answer.

“We would have heard, wouldn’t we?” Nate suggested uneasily. “I mean, they would have called, if— “

He didn’t finish the sentence. No one else spoke.

Trying to distract himself from the quickly growing pit in his stomach, Colin turned his gaze on Roy, who had gone so still that he didn’t even seem to be breathing. His face was a blank mask, utterly devoid of any emotion, but his fists were clenched so tight that Colin’s own hands twinged in sympathy.

“I’ll go talk to Higgins,” Beard said abruptly, breaking the fraught silence.

“Yeah, no, that’s a great idea,” Nate quickly chimed in. Like Colin, he’d been eyeing Roy nervously. “He’ll know what—“

The door slammed open. Jamie rushed inside. “Sorry, sorry I’m late,” he called as he dumped his bag on the bench by his cubby and started pulling his vest off, “been this massive car accident, was stuck for ages and then the road was closed off so I had to go round and— Eh?“

Cockburn, by virtue of being closest, had pulled Jamie into a tight hug, and the rest of the players immediately closed in to follow suit, Colin among them. In his relief he wasn’t sure whether to kiss Jamie or smack him on the head for worrying them, and in the end he settled for briefly squeezing his neck. Jamie grinned at him, at all of them, looking a little bemused but very much delighted by the attention.

“Fucking hell, lads,” he laughed. “Thought I’d be getting a fine, not a fucking group hug. Realized how dull training would be without me, huh?”

“You are getting a fine,” Isaac told him, even as he put his arm around Jamie’s shoulder and shook him gently. “But we’re fucking happy you’re here, yeah?”

“We thought you had died in the car crash,” Jan explained.

“Sí, amigo, we were so worried for you!”

“Oh! Yeah, no, I’m fine, I’m fine. Not fucking Colin, am I? I don’t get into any car crashes.” He caught Colin’s eye and winked, sticking his tongue out like the utter tosser he was and Colin rolled his eyes and was so, so stupidly happy the idiot was there to be annoying.

Eventually, after everyone had gotten to hug Jamie or pat him on the back or ruffle his hair (to his loud but clearly half-hearted protests), the team drifted back to their own cubbies, happily chatting amongst themselves—

— leaving Roy standing on the middle of the floor, staring at Jamie with a look on his face that had Colin take an involuntary step backwards. Their gaffer did not look relieved. In fact, he looked absolutely murderous.

“Why the fuck,” he intoned, emphasizing each word, “did you not fucking call to say you were fucking late? And why the fuck did you not answer your fucking phone?”

The tone of voice would have had anyone with even an ounce of self-preservation running for cover if directed at them, but Jamie just blinked. “Oh, er, left it at home, didn’t I? Already had it in me black bag, right, only I realized the tan one went better with this outfit so I grabbed that instead, but I forgot about the phone ‘cause I was in a bit of a rush, yeah?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “It was stupid. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, you’re sorry about that, are you? Do you have any fucking idea—“ Taking a step closer, getting right up into Jamie’s face, Roy launched into a dressing-down of such volume and viciousness Colin was convinced it had the walls vibrating. Even by Roy Kent’s considerable standards, it was a lot and it lasted for well over a minute until Roy growled, “If you’re not out on the pitch running laps in two minutes you won’t have to worry about getting into any car crashes going home ‘cause you’ll be here all night, running ‘til you fucking drop in your own puke, got it?”

Initially, Jamie had seemed slightly taken aback by Roy’s furious remonstration, but then something that looked strangely like understanding passed over his face and he settled into a determined stoicism, neither talking back nor looking cowed. By the end of it, though, there was definitively barely suppressed anger glinting in his gray eyes, leaving Colin worried he might snap and then they’d have a full-on brawl on their hands, just like back in the bad old days when Roy and Jamie well and truly hated each others’ guts and wouldn’t that be exactly the sort of fun they all wanted on a Tuesday?

He gave a sigh of relief (and could hear Richard do the same just next to him) when Jamie just offered a curt, “yes, Coach,” and set to getting changed at an appropriately hurried speed.

“And fucking apologize to your teammates for delaying training!” Roy barked.

“We’d be out there already if you hadn’t spent the last hour shouting at me,” Jamie muttered to the boot he was tying.

“The fuck did you say?”

“Nothing, Coach. Sorry, everyone.” He looked up. “Really am,” he added, sounding quite sincere about it. “Didn’t mean to hold you up or, you know, worry you or nothing.”

---

Training was an awkward and quietly tense affair. Once Jamie had finished his laps and was allowed to join the rest of them, Roy pointedly and resolutely ignored him, refusing to so much as spare him a glance while the team muddled through the day’s exercises and scrimmage.

Jamie, for his part, seemed utterly determined not to give a shit. He went through the drills as diligently as ever, dribbled and passed and shot with his usual flair, shouting encouragements and slapping Colin’s butt after a particularly good free kick. For all intents and purposes, it was just another day at the job for Jamie Tartt – but Colin saw the looks he kept shooting Roy when he thought no one was watching, and he noticed how Jamie didn’t just play well but played brilliantly, stubbornly lining up one little footie miracle after another on the pitch. He wasn’t being a prick about it either, prompting Colin to mutter to Isaac: “Looks like Jamie’s trying to get back on Roy’s good side by going for player of the year.”

Isaac glanced over at Jamie, then shook his head in dismissal. “Nah, bruv,” he said. “He ain’t trying to appease the gaffer. Sticking it to him, innit.”

“Oh. Okay.” Colin frowned. That… didn’t make a lot of sense, really, but Isaac usually knew what he was talking about, and it wasn’t like Colin begrudged Jamie a little bit of pushback, not after the way Roy had chewed him out in front of everyone. It was just that, if this escalated and the two of them got into it properly, the way they used to back when Roy was still the captain rather than the coach… Well. It’d be a shit time for everyone. Colin could do without it. They could all do without it.

Not that that sort of consideration had ever stopped either Roy or Jamie before.

On the other side of the pitch, Jamie threw himself down in a bicycle kick that saw the ball soar right past two defender’s and Thierry’s outstretched hands.

“Whistle,” Roy snapped. “Training’s fucking over.”

---

“Oi! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Colin, with Dani, Jeff and Jamie in tow, had almost made it out of the dressing room, freshly showered and changed and very ready to put the training session behind them, when Roy’s bark brought them to abrupt heel. Dani stopped so suddenly that Jeff almost walked straight into him, and Colin himself accidentally elbowed Jamie when he startled at the sudden roar.

You’d think they’d be more than used to Roy’s yelling by now, Colin thought. Then again, he supposed it’d been a strange day and they were all a little on edge. Jumpy.

“We’re going to my place, Coach,” he quickly offered, hoping to stave off another round of shouting. “To play some FIFA.” He briefly considered inviting Roy to join them, it would only be polite, right, and could be good for morale maybe, but he was held back by the notion that the gaffer might say yes.

“Tartt isn’t,” Roy informed him curtly.

Jamie cocked his head to the side. “I’m not?” Definitively a hint of challenge in his tone, and Jesus, this was all going to go straight to hell, wasn’t it? And after they’d almost made it out of here, too.

Roy was unmoved; unyielding as stone. “No, you’re coming with me so I can keep an eye on you since you’re too much of a fucking child to be trusted on your own.”

For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, both faces shadowed by stubborn scowls. Colin realized he was holding his breath, and glanced over at Isaac getting ready for dinner with his parents in front of the mirror to check if he, as captain, was maybe planning to step in and deescalate the situation. How he was going to do that Colin had no idea; he wasn’t the captain.

Isaac said nothing, though, just watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. Figures, Colin thought a little sourly; his friend was utter shit at keeping secrets but could pull inscrutable like nobody’s business when it suited him.

“Fine.” In the end, Jamie relented with an exaggerated sigh. “But I’m taking me own car, which I have, what with me not actually being in a car crash today and all.”

Roy looked furious at that, as if Jamie’s lack of fiery death in a burning inferno was somehow a personal insult to him, but then he pressed his lips together and jerked his head in a sharp t nod. “Fine.”

He spun around and stalked away, leaving Jamie rolling his eyes and muttering Jesus fucking Christ you overdramatic grumpy fuck under his breath. Then he turned to the rest of them and shrugged. “Sorry, lads. Another time, yeah?”

Dani made a small, unhappy sound. Colin exchanged a look with Jeff, who looked about as unsure and uncomfortable as Colin felt. Over on the other side of the room, Isaac was still quiet, potentially a sign to the others to keep out of it as well, but in spite of that Colin found himself compelled to ask: “Boyo, do you want us to… talk to Coach?”

It was a mildly terrifying idea, and it very much went against the unspoken agreement that nobody interfere with the continued absurdity that was Roy and Jamie’s relationship these days. But, today had been weird in a way that seemed to have little enough to do with training, extracurricular or otherwise. A particular kind of weird, even for these two. Besides, his whole idea of an impromptu game night had been, at least in part, a bid to cheer Jamie up after all that, and it seemed a shame that he’d miss it for more of the same.

Jamie, however, waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, mate, it’s fine.”

He looked like he meant it, too. There was a frown on his face, sure, but as far as Colin could tell it spoke more of mild annoyance than actual upset or worry.

“But forgetting your phone was a simple mistake, and it is not your fault you were late. It’s not right that Coach should keep punishing you for it.” Sam, who had declined FIFA in favour of being a responsible restaurant owner (“and bad fucking flirt, it’s been almost a year mate, why haven’t you asked her out yet?”), had walked over from his locker and was eyeing Jamie with customarily earnest concern.

Jamie just shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and off their worried stares added, “He’s not going to do anything bad or anything. It’s just, I fucking scared him, right, and he’s being a twat about it ‘cause he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to have feelings properly and he’s only been in therapy for like three months and it’ll probably take a year for anything Dr. Sharon says to go through his big stupid head, yeah? That’s all.”

Which. Okay. Colin could see how the prospect of Jamie actually dying might scare even Roy, but on the other hand… it was Roy. Roy Kent. And besides—

“I don’t know, man, he didn’t seem scared,” Jeff ventured.

“No, amigo, he seemed like he wanted to rip your head off,” Dani helpfully filled in. “And maybe use it as a football.”

“Yeah, because he’s a twat,” Jamie said. “But it’ll be fine, I promise. Probably just wants to make me dinner or something.”

Colin blinked. That… was a leap. Even by Jamie’s particular kind of logic, that was definitively a leap.

“He’s right.” Oh, so now Isaac decided to speak up. “Roy’s not mad at Jamie, he’s mad because he was frightened.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows meaningfully and pointed at their captain. “Yeah, that. So don’t worry.” Adjusting his cap he shot Colin a cheeky wink. “Whoever plays me better score a fuckton of goals tonight, yeah? See you tomorrow, lads.”

And he was out the door, fucking humming as he went. Doing that Jamie Tartt thing of untouchable and unshakeable confidence and you think you can get to me? Nothing ever gets to me and even now that Colin knew Jamie wasn’t quite as invulnerable as all that, some of the old awe and jealousy stirred, mixed with concerned incredulity.

“Is it just me,” he asked after a protracted moment, “or are those two getting even weirder?”

“It’s not just you,” Jeff muttered.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Dani promised brightly, “I will play Richmond tonight and score a fuckton of goals and I will crush you for the sake of our amigo Jamie.”

Colin sighed. “Fantastic.”

At least he’d have the comfort of knowing that getting trashed by Dani Rojas was still far, far better than whatever cruel and unusual punishment Roy had planned for Jamie.

---

Jamie leaned back against Roy’s surprisingly comfortable couch and let out a small sigh of contentment. He wondered whether he ought to be still annoyed with Roy for being a massive wanker or pleased with himself for how utterly he’d called this. He settled for alternating between the two; he was complex like that. People didn’t know it, but he had depths.

Roy hadn’t tried to make him run a marathon or do a million burpees or whatever Colin and the rest had imagined. He hadn’t yelled. Hadn’t said much at all, really, since Jamie stepped through the front door without knocking; mostly he’d glared and grunted and used those funny little head jerks to communicate that Jamie should sit down and be quiet and drink the water Roy put in front of him.

Jamie had sat down and drunk the water. He had not been quiet. He’d watched the Spurs game on the telly last night and he had opinions relevant to their upcoming match against them, which by rights should interest the gaffer and if it didn’t, too fucking bad.

Roy hadn’t told him to shut up.

Instead, he’d made them dinner (fucking called it), a nutritionist approved salmon pasta with saffron and fennel that Jamie was particularly fond of, and then sent Jamie off to the couch while he did the washing up. He hadn’t said a word about Jamie’s choice of entertainment either, when he appeared a little while later with two steaming cups of tea and found the telly turned on to an old episode of Doctor Who. The show had been a staple of Jamie’s early teens and remained a nostalgic comfort; just a bit of silly fun, really, and so naturally something Roy fucking loathed, sad old fuck that he was.

Normally even the suggestion of watching it (or anything else even halfway interesting) would have been met with foul-mouthed refusal and something about Roy’s house, Roy’s rules, but tonight Roy just put the tea down wordlessly and sat down next to Jamie, as on the screen Martha, Jack and the Tenth Doctor (fittest of them all, although Jamie had a soft spot for Eleven) narrowly escaped an exploding flat.

Jamie smiled to himself. For all Roy was utter shit at saying stuff, he could be fucking transparent at times.

It had been dead obvious when Roy’s anger finally and fully faded, and guilt started trickling in to fill the void. It was right there in the way Roy went all the way quiet and started shooting him little looks out of the corner of his eye when he thought Jamie wouldn’t notice throughout dinner; there in the way he sat down far closer to Jamie than he normally would on the couch now, their legs all but touching.

It was as blatant an invitation as you could ever expect from Roy Kent, and tempting, but Jamie stubbornly held himself to himself, upright and with his arms crossed over his chest. Roy had been a right proper arsehole today and he hadn’t even said sorry so if he wanted a cuddle he could fucking ask for one, or he could wait until Jamie felt inclined to indulge him.

Eventually, though, after what Jamie deemed an appropriate amount of time (which may or may not have amounted to two whole minutes), he relented and allowed himself to lean against Roy, casual like, and tipping his head to rest Roy’s shoulder.

He smirked at how Roy not only failed to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing but also was very quick to put a tentative arm around his shoulders, the grip growing firmer when Jamie didn’t shrug him off or ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.

For a while there was only that; the warmth of Roy’s body pressed into his; the sounds of the television. I love it when you say my name, the Master declared.

“I’m sorry about today,” Roy said suddenly. The words came haltingly, reluctantly. Still, he pressed on. “I … fucking overreacted.”

Jamie snorted. “Little bit, yeah.” Then he added, not bothering to conceal his smugness, “All the lads think you were dead mean to me.”

He glanced up at Roy who was determinedly staring at the telly while his eyebrows were doing something complicated and seemingly painful. “I think that… maybe… I got a bit… fucking worried, when we thought you’d been in that car crash.”

He offered like it was some great admission, a grand fucking reveal, and Jamie rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah, mate, I know.”

Roy’s eyes snapped to his face at that, all disbelieving like, so Jamie rolled his eyes again, even harder. “Come on, man. Pretty obvious, that.”

For a long moment, Roy didn’t respond. He looked away from Jamie again. Then finally, “It wasn’t obvious to me.”

And the thing was, Roy sounded so fucking unhappy about it that Jamie clamped his mouth shut around a reflexive no, but you’re an idiot.

“Maybe something for Dr. Sharon, yeah,” he suggested instead, noting with some satisfaction that he was being really mature about all of this.

He’d have liked pointing that out to Roy, too, but had a feeling that maybe that would take away from the maturity a little. He’d mention it to Keeley later instead.

“Yeah,” Roy said after a moment of looking like he’d rather let Isaac kick a football straight at his head. “I’ll talk to her.”

“And maybe fucking apologize to my teammates for delaying training,” Jamie added innocently, feeling a smirk tug at his lips and then blossom into a full-fledged grin when Roy pulled back a little to stare at him, seemingly trying to gauge whether he was serious or not.

“You’re a prick,” Roy said eventually, relaxing again and sounding right fond about it.

��Mmmhm,” Jamie agreed happily, pulling his feet up on the couch and curling up closer to Roy. It was nice, this. Worth all that, maybe. “And here you are, fucking glad I’m not dead and all.”

Roy sighed. His arm around Jamie’s shoulder was warm and solid.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly enough that they might both pretend it wasn’t meant for Jamie’s ears at all. “I am.”

148 notes · View notes

bonefall · 1 year ago

Note

Don’t know if this is the right place to ask, but could you talk more about zoos? I’ve seen many people say that zoos are inherently exploitative and that we should instead focus on advocating for wildlife preserves, etc., but I’m not sure what to think of that. You seem to know a lot about wildlife protection, so what’s your opinion on this?

There are folks faaaar better than myself to talk about the issues of zoos specifically and I'll try to toss in some sources so you can go and learn more, but let me try and explain my mindset here.

Summary of my opinion on this: BOTH of these things can be poorly managed, and I broadly support both. They should exist in tandem. I am pro-accredited zoo and am extremely sensitive towards misinformation. I also do think the best place for animals to be is in their natural environment, but nature "preserves" aren't inherently perfect. They can also be prone to the capitalist (and colonialist) pressures that less informed people believe they're somehow immune to.

Because of the goal of my project being to make the setting of WC accurate to Northwestern England, my research is based on UK laws, ecology, and conservation programs.

On Zoos

On Nature Reserves

An Aside on Fortress Conservation

On Zoos

The legal definition of a Zoo in the UK (because that is what BB's ecological education is based around), as defined by the Zoo Licensing Act of 1981 (ZLA), is a "place where wild animals are kept for exhibition to the public," excluding circuses and pet shops (which are covered by different laws.)

This applies equally to private, for-profit zoos, as well as zoos run by wildlife charities and conservation organizations. Profit does not define a zoo. If there's a place trying to tell you it's not a zoo but a "sanctuary" or a "wildlife park," but you can still go visit and see captive wild animals, even if it's totally free, it's a marketing trick. Legally that is still a zoo in the UK.

(for fellow Americans; OUR definition is broader, more patchwork because we are 50 little countries in a trenchcoat, and can include collections of animals not displayed to the public.)

That said, there's a HUGE difference between Chester Zoo, run by the North of England Zoological Society, which personally holds the studbooks for maintaining the genetic diversity of 10 endangered species, has 134 captive breeding projects, cultivates 265 threatened plant species, and sends its members as consultants to United Nations conferences on climate change, and Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit.

Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit ONLY has to worry about the UK government. There's another standard zoos can hold themselves to if they want to get serious about conservation like Chester Zoo; Accreditation. There are two major zoo organizations in the UK, BIAZA and EAZA.

(Americans may wonder about AZA; that's ours. AZA, EAZA, and BIAZA are all members of the World Association of Aquariums and Zoos, or WAZA, but they are all individual organizations.)

A zoo going for EAZA's "accreditation" has to undergo an entire year of evaluation to make sure they fit the strict standards, and renewal is ongoing. You don't just earn it once. You have to keep your animal welfare up-to-date and in compliance or you will lose it.

The benefit of joining with an accredited org is that it puts the zoo into a huge network of other organizations. They work together for various conservation efforts.

There are DOZENS of species that were prevented from going extinct, and are being reintroduced back to their habitats, because of the work done by zoos. The scimitar-horned oryx, takhi, California condor, the Galapagos tortoise, etc. Some of these WERE extinct in the wild and wouldn't BE here if it hadn't been for zoos!

The San Diego zoo is preventing the last remaining hawaiian crows from embracing oblivion right now, a species for which SO LITTLE of its wild behavior is known they had to write the book on caring for them, and Chester zoo worked in tandem with the Uganda Wildlife Authority to provide tech and funding towards breakthroughs in surveying wild pangolins.

Don't get me wrong;

MOST zoos are not accredited,

nor is accreditation is REQUIRED to make a good zoo,

nor does it automatically PROVE nothing bad has happened in the zoo,

There are a lot more Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pits than there are Chester Zoos.

That's worth talking about! We SHOULD be having conversations on things like,

Is it appropriate to keep and breed difficult, social megafauna, like elephants or cetaceans? What does the data say? Are there any circumstances where that would be okay, IF the data does confirm we can never provide enough space or stimulation to perfectly meet those species' needs?

How can we improve animal welfare for private zoos? Should we tighten up regulations on who can start or run one (yes)? Are there enough inspectors (no)?

Do those smaller zoos meaningfully contribute to better conservation? How do we know if they are properly educating their visitors? Can we prove this one way or the other?

Who watches the watchmen? Accreditation societies hold themselves accountable. Do these organizations truly have enough transparency?

(I don't agree with Born Free's ultimate conclusion that we should "phase out" zoos, but you should always understand the opposing arguments)

But bottom line of my opinion is; Good zoos are deeply important, and they have a tangible benefit to wildlife conservation. Anyone who tries to tell you that "zoos are inherently unethical" either knows very little about zoos or real conservation work, or... is hiding some deeper, more batshit take, like "having wild animals in any kind of captivity is unlawful imprisonment."

(you'll also get a lot more work done in regulating the exotic animal trade in the UK if you go after private owners, btw. zoos have nothing to do with how lax those laws are.)

Anyway I'm a funny cat blog about battle kitties, and the stuff I do for BB is to educate about the ecosystem of Northern England. If you want to know more about zoos, debunking misconceptions, and critiques from someone with more personal experience, go talk to @why-animals-do-the-thing!

Keep in mind though, again, they talk about American zoos, where this post was written with the UK in mind.

(and even then, England specifically. ALL UK members and also the Isle of Man have differences in their laws.)

(If anyone has other zoo education tumblr blogs in mind, especially if they are European, lmk and I'll edit this post)

On Nature Reserves

Remember how broad the legal definition of a zoo actually was? Same thing over here. A "nature reserve" in the UK is a broad, unofficial generic term for several things. It doesn't inherently involve statutory protection, either, meaning there's some situations where there's no laws to hold anyone accountable for damage

These are the "nature reserve" types relevant to my project; (NOTE: Ramsar sites, SACs, and SPAs are EU-related and honestly, I do not know how Brexit has effected them, if at all, so I won't be explaining something I don't understand.)

Local Wildlife Site (LWS) Selected via scientific survey and managed locally, connecting wildlife habitats together and keeping nature close to home. VERY important... and yet, incredibly prone to destruction because there aren't good reporting processes in place. Whenever a report comes out every few years, the Wildlife Trust says it often only gets data for 15% of all their registered sites, and 12% get destroyed in that timeframe.

Local Nature Reserve (LNR) A site that can be declared by a district or county council, if proven to have geographic, educational, biodiversity, or recreational value. The local authority manages this, BUT, the landowner can remain in control of the property and "lease" it out (and boy oh boy, landowners do some RIDICULOUS things)

National Nature Reserve (NNR) This is probably closest to what you think of when someone says "nature reserve." Designated by Natural England to protect significant habitat ranges and geographic formations, but still usually operates in tandem with private land owners who must get consent if they want to do something potentially damaging to the NNR.

Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) (pronounced Triple S-I) A conservation designation for a particular place, assessed and defined by Natural England for its biological or geographic significance. SSSIs are protected areas, and often become the basis for NNRs, LNRs, Ramsar sites, SACs, SPAs, etc.

So you probably noticed that 3/4 of those needed to have the private ownership problem mentioned right in the summary, and it doesn't end there. Even fully government-managed NNRs and SSSIs work with the private sectors of forestry, tourism, and recreation.

We live under Capitalism; EVERYTHING has a profit motive, not just zoos.

I brushed over some of those factors in my Moorland Research Notes and DESPERATELY tried to stay succinct with them, but it was hard. The things that can happen to skirt around the UK's laws protecting wildlife could make an entire season of Monty Python sketches.

Protestors can angrily oppose felling silver birch (a "weed" in this context which can change the ecosystem) because it made a hike less 'pretty' and they don't understand heath management.

Management can be reluctant to ban dogs and horses for fear of backlash, even as they turn heath to sward before our eyes.

Reserves can be owned by Count Bloodsnurt who thinks crashing through the forest with a pack of dogs to exhaust an animal to death is a profitable traditional British passtime.

Or you can literally just pretend that you accidentally chased a deer for several hours and then killed it while innocently sending your baying hounds down a trail. (NOTE: I am pro-hunting, but not pro-animal cruelty.)

The Forestry Commission can slobber enthusiastically while replacing endangered wildlife habitats with non-native, invasive sitka spruce plantations, pretending most trees are equal while conveniently prioritizing profitable timber species.

I have STORIES to tell about the absolute Looney Tunes bullshit that's going on between conservationists and rich assholes who want to sell grouse hunting access, but I'll leave it at this fascinating tidbit about air guns and mannequins which are "totally, absolutely there for no nefarious reason at all, certainly not to prevent marsh harriers from nesting in an area where they also keep winding up mysteriously killed in illegal snares, no no no"

BUT. Since Nature Reserve isn't a hard defined legal concept, and any organization could get involved in local conservation in the UK, and just about anyone or anything could own one... IT'S CHESTER ZOO WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!

They received a grant in 2021 to restore habitat to a stretch of 10 miles extending outside of their borders, working with TONS of other entities such as local government and conservation charities in the process. There's now 6,000 square meters of restored meadow, an orchard, new ponds, and maintained reedbeds, because of them.

It isn't just Chester Zoo, either. It's all over the UK. Durrel Wildlife, which runs Jersey Zoo, just acquired 18,500 acres to rewild in Perthshire. Citizen Zoo is working with the Beaver Trust to bring beavers back to London and is always looking for volunteers to help with their river projects, and the Edinburgh Zoo is equipped with gene labs being used to monitor and analyze the remaining populations of non-hybrid Scottish Wildcats.

The point being,

Nature preserves have problems too. They are not magical fairy kingdoms that you put up a fence around and then declare you Saved Nature Hooray! They need to be protected. They need to be continuously assessed. They are prone to capitalist pressures just like everything else on this hell planet. Go talk to my boy Karl he'll give you a hug about it.

"Nature Preserves" are NOT an "alternative" to zoos and vice versa. They do not do the same thing. A zoo is a center of education and wildlife research which displays exotic animals. A nature preserve is a parcel of native ecosystem. We need LOTS of nature preserves and we need them well-managed ASAP.

We could never just "replace" zoos with nature preserves, and we're nowhere near the amount of protected ecosystem space to start thinking of scaling back animals in captivity. Until King Arthur comes out of hibernation to save Britain, that's the world we live in.

An Aside

My project and my research is based on the isle of Great Britain. The more I learn about the ecosystems that are naturally found there, the more venomously I reject the old lie, "humans are a blight."

YOU are an animal. You're a big one, too. You know what the role of big animals in an ecosystem are? Change. Elephants knock over trees, wolves alter the course of rivers, bison fertilize the plains from coast-to-coast. In Great Britain, that's what hominids have done for 900,000 years, their populations ebbing and flowing with every ice age.

Early farming created the moors and grazing sheep and cattle maintain it, hosting hundreds of specialist species. Every old-growth forest has signs of ancient coppicing and pollarding, which create havens for wildlife when well-managed. Corn cockle evolved as a mimic of wheat seeds, so farmers would plant it over and over within their fields.

This garbage idea that humans are somehow "separate" from or "above" nature is poison. It's not true ANYWHERE.

It contributes to an idea that our very presence is somehow damaging to natural spaces, and to "protect" it, we have to completely leave it alone. NO! Absolutely NOT! There are places where we have to limit harvesting and foot traffic, but humans ALWAYS lived in nature.

Even the ecosystems that this mindset comes from rejects it, but this shit doesn't JUST get applied to British people who become alienated and disconnected from their surroundings to the point where they don't know what silver birch does.

It's DEADLY for the indigenous people who protect 80% of our most important ecosystems.

It's a weapon against the Maasai people, stopped from hunting or growing crops on their own land. It's violence for 9 San hunters shot at by a helicopter with a "kill poachers on-sight" policy, as one of the world's LARGEST diamond mines operates in the same motherfucking park. The Havasupai people are kept out of the Grand Canyon that they managed for generations because they might "collect too many nuts" and starve squirrels, Dukha reindeer herders suddenly get banned from chopping wood or fishing, and watch wolves decimate their animals in the absence of their herding dogs.

It's nightmare after nightmare of human displacement in the name of "conservation."

That all ties back to that mindset. This idea that nature is pure, "pristine," and should be totally untouched. There are some starting to call it Fortress Conservation.

You can't begin to understand the criticisms of modern conservation without acknowledging that we are still living under the influence of capitalism and colonialism. Those who fixate on speaking for "animals/nature/trees who don't have a voice" often seem to have no interest in the indigenous people who do.

Listen. There's no simple answer; and the solution will vary for each region.

Again, my project is within the UK, one of the most ecologically devastated areas in the world. There are bad zoos that the law allows a pass. There are incredible zoos that are vital to conservation, in and outside of the country. There's not enough nature preserves. The best ones that exist are often exploited for profit.

I hope that my silly little blog sparks an interest in a handful of people to understand more about their own local ecosystems, and teaches folks about the unique beauty even within a place as "boring" as England.

But, my straightforward statement is that I have no patience for nonconstructive, broad zoo slander that lumps together ALL of them, and open contempt for anyone who tries to sell nature preserves like a perfect, morally superior "alternative." We need them BOTH right now, and we need to acknowledge that zoos AND preserves have legal and ethical issues that aren't openly talked about.

#ALSO THAT GUIDE IVE BEEN WORKING ON IS DONE #Im just waiting for the input of the sensitivity readers bc I made a whole section on--#How ableis m might express in the different clans #And part of it became a thunder-callout post lmaooooo #Also this zoo doc has been sitting competed in my drafts for a while #All this to say that uh. I hope the strange place they visit in the upcoming se is not a zoo :J #I will hit it with a golf club if it is <3 #Leaning heavily towards the 'oh no two DEMIGODS ended up in a zoo' idea #Which is objectively funnier #And you know what else is objectively funny. When these posts break orbit and then ppl are surprised that i am a kitty cat blog #Hal. It's about Cats.#Bone Babble

111 notes · View notes