#but there is nothing bad about the other way to be clear

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 19: The One Where I Perform Mis-Directed as a Three Act Comedy, Act I

The main characters star in a television series adapted from bestselling romance novels…

…called Leicester Square.

Hattie Murton plays Iris Pinkerton, “[a] living ghost of a person, so unimportant that she could walk amongst them tonight… She was simply beneath their notice, which made her to all intents and purposes invisible. It was terribly convenient.”

“Anthony [Rafe] was six feet tall and had a swimmer’s build. All lean elegant muscle.”

Anthony plays bad boy, Victor Del Vayo [sp], whose signature look includes – don’t say “pirate coat!” – no, a long cape.

Anthony also has a crazed fan...

"She’d turned up uninvited at his old flat a week later and bribed the security guard to let her in. He’d made it extremely clear to both of them that if the occurrence was repeated, they’d each be departing in a police car or a body bag."

Oh, and there’s a character named “Jake,” whose sexual chemistry with Hattie is described as “sparks in a damp firework,” a point that is driven into the reader repeatedly. The Jakolas “would have probably preferred it if this was a euphemism.” Alas, it is not.

Actual sparks fly between Hattie and Anthony during their scripted love scenes – although, based on the text, they are both drawn to each other before the filming of their season even starts.

“The fans have got you to where you are. We’ve been listening to what the audience is asking.”

“Lady Iris was getting a proper romance arc. Not just a series of mad sexual exploits and single episode infatuations with passing guest stars. A full on – and sweet Christ – a long-running affair beginning with a surprise kiss scene on Monday. Iris was about to fall madly and reluctantly in love with Victor Del Vayo.”

Oh, and did I mention Anthony had “grown up in Mayfair?”

Let’s not forget Anthony is also a writer…

And that Hattie’s loves some “[g]ood ol’ Irish tradition…” because her dad is from Galway.

Then there's this: “’The very sweet Sergeant Llewellyn,’ [Hattie] reminisced. ‘My personal favorite of Iris’s lovers…’”

And, of course, every single mention of Pride and Prejudice...

“[Hattie had] accidently seen [Anthony] in a production of Julius Caesar at The Old Vic last year during their summer break…He’d been arresting, engrossing, heart wrenching.”

Anthony’s character, Victor, wears a signet ring: “The ring was heavy silver. A human skull in profile with a ruby eye that could be spun in its socket.”

Okay, enough about the main characters.

Let's move on to those intimacy scenes…

“Everything felt off today.”

“If Stevie had thought they’d been lacking chemistry in round one, perhaps she’d decided to gift them with a bonding experience. A shared case of fake snogging and induced lockjaw.”

“And now suddenly… you’re touching for the first time in all these years. Lo and behold, caught off guard by the explosion of chemistry.”

“A nerve twitched under Anthony’s firm mouth. He’d well and truly lost the air of bored idleness now and when he put his hands on Hattie’s corseted waist and slammed his body up against hers, pressing her into the wall, there was nothing disjointed and indolent about the maneuver or the way her breath left her in a rush. The actual mechanics behind the lift and spin were controlled and almost shockingly gentle. He concealed one palm behind her back and took the full force of the collision with his own body."

“Hattie found herself treating that drop of perspiration as an almost spotting point, like a ballet dancer keeping their balance during a fouette.”

“A muscle in her neck was starting to cramp, as they paused there artfully for the cameras. She adjusted arching her back in an unscripted gesture that pressed their bodies closer. As her belly rubbed up over his and his sheltering arms flexed, a coiling full-bodied zing shivered through her like the subtlest flooding of spice and warmth and then a jolt of pure fizzing adrenaline… As Hattie watched, still oddly transfixed, his pupils dilated, just a bit."

“For once, or maybe the first time ever, [Hattie] wasn’t excruciatingly conscious of everyone’s watching eye. She felt frozen, distant from the surrounding scene yet conversely hyper aware of every angle and shiver and prickle of her own body…"

“The hallway, the cameras, the rest of the world, it all ceased to exist. Seconds were slipping into minutes.”

[baronessvonglitter]

Guessing Game

stepdad!Javier Pena x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: Your stepfather is a DEA agent. When he finds drugs in your room you have to find a way to keep yourself out of trouble.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Step-cest (if that's an ick for you please do not read - you are responsible for the content you consume 🖤). Age gap (reader is early twenties, Javi is mid-to-late forties). Reader wears makeup and a dress and has hair long enough to get in her face. Cocaine use. Sexual proposition/exploitation. Dub con. (Reader is high during the act.) Oral (m receiving). Drug use during oral. Come swallowing. Fingering. *Spanish terms at the bottom. If I've missed anything please lmk!

Author's note: Big thanks to those of you who asked about this when it was just a baby wip -- now it's fully grown and I so appreciate the support! 💜

JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Please tell me you're coming out tonight."

You pause a moment before answering your friend Gabi, switching your phone to your other ear as you check your reflection in the mirror. You apply dark burgundy lipstick to your bottom lip: Guessing Game by MAC, and top it with a swipe of clear gloss.

"I'll be there. You can bet your tits on that," you tell her with a smirk before you end the call.

Sure, you're technically still in trouble for staying out all night the past weekend. That's the thing that sucks about  commuting to college instead of moving out-- having to stay under your mom's roof and adhere to her rules.

Not just her rules, oh no. Your new stepfather is a hard-ass too, and a DEA agent on top of that. Javier Peña's over half your age and a stickler for rules. He's down your throat any chance he gets when you talk back to your mom or do anything that he finds disrespectful. 

It's stressful having to walk such a thin line. You deserve to go out tonight and show off the slinky, short black dress you're secretly borrowing from your mom's closet. It's not like she wears stuff like this anymore. She won't miss it for one night.

Almost ready to go, you do a last minute checklist. The only thing missing from your purse is your baggie. 

Shit! Where is it? You check your usual hiding place but find nothing. Your stomach swirls with unease.

"Looking for this?"

You turn to the sound of the deep voice coming from your doorway. There stands Javier, big bad DEA stepdad, holding your baggie of coke between thumb and forefinger.

"That's not mine," you automatically deny. 

"Bullshit," he mutters, stepping into the room. "I found it in here earlier. You want to tell me what you're doing with cocaine, chiquita?"

"Like I said, it's not mine," you insist. Deny, deny, deny. 

"How stupid do you think I am, huh? Just be damn glad I found it and not your mother. She'd kick your ass out on the streets for having this." The offending white powder in its baggie looks tiny in his large hand.

"Did I interrupt your big plans tonight?" he asks smoothly, shutting your bedroom door behind him. "Were you gonna go out and party, do a few lines, let some pendejo fuck you up the ass?"

"Javi!" You instinctively cover yourself as his eyes linger over your figure in that short, tight dress.

He comes around the bed, towering over you as you sit on the edge. Still in his suit and tie and his hair still in its neat, swept-to-the-side style, you imagine he must have just gotten off work. His dark eyes challenge you to do one more thing to piss him off. Despite the severe disdain you hold for one another, in the back of your mind you've always wanted to fuck him. Him being alone with you in your room, that dangerous, pissed-off look in his eyes only serves to make you wet. 

"You should know better," he says. "I can't have a fucking druggie for a stepdaughter."

"I'm sorry," you mumble. "But you shouldn't be going through my shit anyway."

"That's not a fucking apology, cariño," he gripes. "When you say 'sorry, but' that means you're not truly fucking sorry."

"You're giving me a fucking semantics lesson now?"

"Don't fucking talk back to me," he growls. "I'm not your mom, I'll beat your ass."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Keep it down, she's asleep in the next room."

It's late and by now your mom's taken her sleeping pill. You'd counted on her staying practically unconscious as you snuck out. Until Javi came along. You don't know what his plot is but the fact that he's here in your room with the door closed and it's half past midnight gives you a feeling that he wants something he shouldn't be asking for.

"Just.. give it back to me. I'll flush it, I promise."

A dark chuckle leaves his throat and sends a chill up your spine. He holds the baggie out and flicks it with his finger. "Who's your plug, baby? Give me that much. Possession with intent to distribute is a worse crime than just possession. You could get off with just a slap on the wrist if you just give me a name."

"I'm not telling you shit.."

"That stubborn, eh, princesita?" He smirks at even you have to admit he's a little handsome when he looks at you like that. But you still fucking hate him. You make a low sound in your throat, akin to a growl.

“You got something in your throat, chica?”

“No.. but I’d like to..”

His gaze darkens as he looks down at you, that barely-there dress leaving so little to the imagination. He recognizes it from his wife's closet, the very same dress she wore when they went on their first date. And now it fits you like a second skin. "Careful, chica. You might be an adult under the law, but you have no idea what the real fucking world is like."

"What are you gonna do, turn me in?" you challenge him.

"Maybe we can come to a compromise," he says, his gaze on your wet, glossy, darkened lips. "I'll keep quiet about the drugs if you do something for me."

"Like what?" You lean back on the bed, acting bored with the conversation though you're secretly glad he's about to let you off the hook.

"You're a smart girl. Use your imagination."

You separate your gaze from his, traveling down to the prominent bulge in his trousers.

"You're disgusting, you know that? Exploiting your own stepdaughter like that.."

He shrugs. "I have no problem bringing you in for this. It's a shame, though. You're a bright kid, you have your whole future ahead of you. You gonna let a little cocaina put an end to all that?"

"Fuck you," you mutter, sitting up. What does it matter anyway? It's just a dick. Not like you haven't sucked a few in your time. "Fine. I fucking blow you and you don't tell anyone about the coke, okay?"

A little smile curls his lips upward. "Deal, princesita."

He puts the baggie on the nightstand where you can't reach it and turns to you, hands on his hips. You realize he's waiting for you to start. 

Smart guy, having you make the first move so it's not on him later. "Nobody knows about this, either," you demand, your fingers hovering just over his belt buckle.

His breath hitches before answering, excitement hidden in his voice. "Just between us."

You feel your heartbeat in your throat as you undo his belt and pants, letting them fall to the floor. He's wearing white briefs, though you know him to typically go commando when he's not working.

"That's it, bebita linda," he coos as you free him from his underwear. His thick erection curves upward, slapping his belly as it swells and rises. Your mouth waters just feasting your eyes upon it.

"Ain't got all night," he grumbles.

"So fucking impatient," you grumble back, wrapping your hand around his hefty cock. It's bigger than any you've ever had, already weeping from the tip. Without hesitation you lick up the salty precum, delighting in the way his breath catches in his throat.

"It's not gonna suck itself," he grunts, putting his hand on the back of your head and pushing you towards him. "C'mon, baby, wanna see that pretty lipstick ruined and slopped all over my cock. The deal doesn't count if you're just gonna give it kitten licks."

Grabbing the base in one hand you slide the tip between your lips. Already it feels like too much, but you're not going to let him think he's got the best of you. 

"Open wide, baby, I know you can suck a cock better than that."

Forcing back an exasperated sigh you practically unhinge your jaw to get your whole mouth around him, his fat cockhead hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. Javi laughs as you pull away.

"You a fucking amateur, mia linda?" he chuckles. "Or am I just too big for that bratty mouth?"

"Fuck you."

He grabs you by the chin and forces you to look up at him. Your eyes are big, wide, a hint of fear there mixed with desire. "Be good for me. Or do you need something more to keep you sweet?"

He reaches for the baggie and scoops out a small amount, making a nice line on the top of his cock. 

"C'mon, do a line for me, sugar." He brings your head down and immediately you snort the white powder off his dick.

"There you go.. putting those vices to good use for once. Now maybe you'll suck my cock like the proper little slut you are."

You're still sniffling up the remnants of the coke when he shoves himself inside your mouth again, the bitter taste of the drug mixing with the salty taste of his flesh. 

"Relax your throat," he commands. "I can't believe I have to tell you how to suck a cock," he tsk-tsks.

Your eyes are brimming over with tears as you take him deep inside your throat. He stays there, guiding your movements with his hands on the back of your head. You start to breathe through your nose as your airway gets stuffed full of Javi's throbbing dick.

"Just look at that pretty mouth, pretty purple lips spread open wide around my cock," he whispers. "That's right, baby, get my cock all messy with your lipstick."

He lets you pull away from him to catch your breath before pushing back in, thrusting into your mouth. Whether you like it or not, saliva fills your mouth, making the slide in easier. If he knew your pussy was getting just as wet right now he'd take full advantage.

By now the coke is taking effect, making your heart flutter, and your pleasure receptors are buzzing off the charts. If you were only a reluctant participant before, you're voracious now. You put all your effort into blowing Javier, eager for his moans and sharp curses, even when he pulls out and taps your cheek with his dick you can't help but giggle, seeking him out with your tongue so you can drag it along his length.

Soon you're getting into a rhythm, following his lead as he thrusts into your mouth, pulling you away, only to push in again, stuffing you full and deep as he grabs your hair. Your mascara runs down your face, black streaks down your cheeks, lipstick smeared, Javi's dick now a strange purple.

He likes watching his whole member disappearing inside you, excited by the way you're learning to take him. He stops playing nice and stuffs himself down your throat, shoving himself deep and thrusting shallowly while your arms flail in a vain attempt to push away from him.

"Nuh-uh.. we agreed. I can just take you in right now, all wrecked and ruined. I can already see the mugshot. Bet your mama would be so proud," he says sarcastically.

"Fuck you," you manage to say, lips swollen, saliva running down your chin and neck.

"Hey, that's not very ladylike. Then again, you're not much of a lady, are you? Now suck."

He thrusts inside you again, even though you gag on him, tasting the bitterness of your own bile creeping up your gullet.

"If you puke on me I'll just keep going. You think I'm worried about a little vomit?"

You force down the remnants of your dinner from earlier, simultaneously bringing him deeper into your mouth.

"Lift up that dress for me, want you to play with your pussy while you're sucking me off," he says, stuffing your mouth full with more of him.

You do as he says, picking up the hem of the dress over your hips and sticking your hand under your black lace thong. You're drenched and Javier can see it, smell your arousal as it fragrances the air between you. He's never smelled a sweeter pussy. 

"That's right, circle that pretty little clit for me, mamacita," he grunts, exiting your mouth to pull back and watch you for a little, a long thick string of saliva connecting between your lips and his dick. You look totally wrecked and he's not even done yet.

You work on yourself, pressing your clit, your little gasps fueling Javier's need. "There you go, drive yourself crazy for me," he says.

You dip your fingers inside your warm cunt, closing your eyes as you seek out the relief from the heat building between your thighs. "Nu-uh, baby, eyes on me," he purrs slipping back in, thrusting deep and slow, watching you, feeling how good it is when you moan around his dick.

"Perfect, fucking perfect," he moans when you deep throat him again, your tongue peeking out to lick his balls. "Fuck," he says, tightening the grip he has on your hair. "Freaky mamacita, aren't you? Done this before, haven't you? To a lot of guys, I bet."

You whimper around his dick, pulling away to get some air. You finger yourself into a frenzy and start to come. "Not yet," Javier growls, pulling you back onto his slobber-coated cock. "You gotta earn it if you wanna come," he tells you.

You whine about it but the energetic buzz the coke has given you is still at work, putting extra effort into sucking off your stepdad, a renewed energy and vigor to your mouth sucking his cock. 

"Damn, cariño.. you really want your bad little habit kept secret, huh?" Javier pants, head thrown back as you sloppily suck him off. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come.. gonna spray that sarcastic little bitchy mouth with my cum.. you ready?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, slamming into your mouth with urgency, not a care for your comfort until he bursts in your mouth and you have no choice but to taste the hot saltiness of his release.

He pulls out slowly, and when you try to spit out his release he shoves it back in with his fingers, effectively gagging you in the process. "Swallow," he commands, and you do so obediently just as his other hand finds its way to your core. 

He curls his fingers into the waistband, pulling the thong up, rubbing the material against your wanting and willing core, rubbing hard against your clit. It's pleasure bordering on pain.

"Fucking hell, look how soaked you are," he coos. He watches the way your stringy slick clings to the lace of your thong. "You got all wet sucking me off, didn't you? Dirty girl. Muy sucia." He rubs the pad of his thumb over your exposed clit and smirks when you start panting like a dog in heat, thighs open to him, head thrown back, your hair sticking to the mess of saliva and lip gloss on your mouth and chin.

"There it is.. just what you wanted, huh? What you think about every time you look at me. You dream about my cock in your mouth and my fingers in your cunt, just like this.." He delves two thick digits into your wetness while stroking your clit and it's embarrassing how quickly you come on his fingers, your core quivering around him, expelling more fluid, coating his hand.

"That's it," he says gently, staying inside you until the little aftershocks are complete and your body is utterly spent. Your mouth tastes like his cum and the lingering bitterness of the cocaine is at the back of your throat. Despite your orgasm being over your heart is still jackhammering away. The high of both the drug and the orgasm combine to leave you teetering on the edge of sanity.

"Drugged out and fucked out," Javier mutters, watching you as he removes his fingers. He lets out a small noise of approval, his thumb gently tracing along your lip and the edge of your tongue for a moment before slowly sliding it inside your mouth. “Taste yourself, princesa.”

You make a little sound of pleasure, swirling your tongue along his thumb, your gaze on him.

His free hand moves to tangle in your hair to keep your head still as he slowly pulls his thumb out of your mouth, a thin string of saliva connecting his finger to your tongue as he looks down at you with half lidded eyes. "God, you look so good down there, cariño." 

Then he pushes you back on the bed. "Such a fucking mess," he mutters, tucking his cock back in his briefs and doing up his pants again. "Go clean yourself up. And no more fucking coke, got it?" he growls as he leaves, taking the baggie with him.

"We're square now, bebita," he says, giving one last look to your prone form, your skin flushed and sweaty, legs splayed out like a true coke whore. "But if I ever catch you doing something like this again, I'll do more than fuck that sweet little mouth of yours."

*chiquita ~ little girl | pendejo ~ idiot | carino ~ dear | princesita ~ little princess | chica ~ girl | cocaina ~ cocaine | bebita linda ~ pretty baby | mamacita ~ gorgeous/hottie | muy sucia ~ very dirty

dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics 👑

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[hana-recs]

this fic is in fact everything. i laughed and cried and also live reacted to it because i don't know how to shut up (sorry jo) but i LOVED it so much. i will be thinking about them forever!!!!!!!!!

As usual, Mingyu has texted you privately, away from the group chat. ^ HA. they’re whispering. it’s a sign. but also — so much is done with that “as usual”. jo ur a genius and i love you.

[7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: just know that you are missing one of my best creations [7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: but dont worry i will save you some ☺️ because i’m the best roommate ever [7:31pm] You: thank youuuuu! I might not have any tonight but you know i’ll eat the leftovers! [7:31pm] Cinnamingyu: hows the date? [7:36pm] You: i am very bad at bowling actually!!! [7:36pm] Cinnamingyu: aim for the pins [7:43pm] You: have i mentioned that i hate you?

^ your honor i love them already. their dynamic is written so WELL like already u can tell how much they know each other, and how it’s different from their other friendships.

He calls you Sunny, but he’s the sun. Has been that way as long as you’ve known him - since undergrad. 

^SCREAMS. screams so LOUD. this is so cute but after reading “my feet to follow” im a little. apprehensive. i think about that fic SO MUCH.

Now he looks over at you, smiling beatifically, innocently. “There’s my Sunshine.” (…) “You’re cranky today,” he observes, the arm not trying (sort of) to slap Mingyu’s leg folded behind his head. “Why might that be?”

^this isn’t a jeonghan fic but my god i love him. roommate jeonghan does have my entire heart in his hand and he may do with it what he wills.

“I can stay, then,” Wonwoo says, a bit tightly - you can tell that wasn’t the plan. “So you aren’t alone.”

^ never mind. jeonghan and wonwoo have half of my heart each. (your characters are written so well and even in their small cameos they have so much presence and they don’t just feel like they’re there for no reason AGHH i love.)

…then makes his way over to his side of the bed. The empty side of your bed. Not his.

^ouchie. also a few paragraphs down — the timing of the texts between her and daeyoung!!!! hello!!!!!!!! i love tiny details like this they really just. make the fic.

And no one has thought of you, not like this, in a very long time.

^ so i would like to give her a hug. your main characters are always so likeable and relatable (😂🔫) and . yeah they just feel very human and i love it!!! but also; the significance of him and mingyu getting her flowers but mingyu knows her favourite 🥹 AND THE NOTE? “sunny flowers for sunny baby” okay well i’ll just cry myself to sleep or whatever.

Because he’s perfect, and he’s yours, but somehow you still don’t have him, and in the meantime no one else will ever be enough - just for not being him.

^ user daechwitatamic i have tears in my eyes. this fic is written so beautifully. i could Eat this angst like i truly feel like i foul take a bite out of it. which doesn’t make sense but i’m trying to say that it’s delicious. and also it hurts.

You were wrong when you said Mingyu was the sun. Mingyu is an avalanche. Rushing, rolling, thundering over and through you until there’s nothing left but a glinting field of ice and silence. Nothing else matters - nothings else exists - in his wake.

^ this is just gorgeous fucking writing and i truly don’t know what to do with myself anymore. she’s so in love with him and to my outsider third party eyes it’s so clear to me that they’re idiots!!!!!! please kiss!!!!!!!!!!!!! but then i also think that the complications and the uncertainty are written so cleverly that you completely understand reader’s pov 🥹

oh my god jeonghan’s whole entire talk with her made me so emotional like. i love him so BAD he’s such a good friend. 

LOVE the part where she was communicating w daeyoung bc i was slightly terrified (he seems so nice!!) that something would go terribly wrong there. however i have trust issues and so i’m. not fully convinced of anything right now 😭😭 

ok so this fic is so engaging and investing. the tension during the games scenes where daeyoung comes over is SO palpable i feel like i’m there and experiencing the discomfort with everyone else. idk there’s a very immersive feel to your writing and i appreciate it SO much . 

ope and i had a feeling something was going to happen there with daeyoung. the story is getting painful. i am feeling pained. like yay they made up! but also this is a mingyu fic and so i can just sense that this is a dip before the fall (i think i just made that up i really don’t think that’s a saying)

july section — 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 nothing funny but i have to laugh or i’ll cry. the dialogue here is something else 🥹 yn finally expressing herself and u can truly feel the emotion pouring out of the words i’m truly in awe of this fic.

the text messages were so soft. yn is stronger than me i would’ve folded but also i’m so glad that she made him grovel. i personally think men should always grovel 

SCRWAMS. THEYRE KISSING THEYRE KISSING THEYRE KISSING happy days. i literally let out a sigh of relief. omg the rollercoaster of emotions this fic has taken me on. i’m so glad they got their happy ending 🥹 this whole fic was written so beautifully - the characters were so human and realistic and the words were just so perfect and brought everything to life in the most wonderful way. and the CHARACTERS !!!! all the different dynamics were everything and all the different personalities were so interesting and none of them felt flat or one dimensional at all (which is something i struggle with so i admire this so much.) user daechwitatamic i will be forwarding u my therapy bill but thank you SO much for writing this and i apologise for this insanely lengthy and repetitive essay. i missed reading your writing 💗

Cinnamon || KMG

banner by @sailorrhansol

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab!

Cinnamon mingyu x fem!reader (nicknamed Sunny), reader x male oc for a while fluff smut angst best friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, idiots to lovers all apply NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You finally decide to try and move on after years of waiting for Mingyu to return your feelings. But when you start bringing your new boyfriend around more often, things with Mingyu get... difficult.

WC: 19k

Warnings: language, recreational drinking and overdrinking, a brief mention of throwing up from a hangover, angst and hurt feelings, not miscommunication but definitely refusal to communicate, kissing (some with mg and some with a male oc), arguments, reader and mingyu are both imperfect people who make mistakes and do things wrong... theyre not bad or toxic people but their choices can be hurtful... theyre humans who mess up have to just do their best to do better going forward, quick and prosey smut scene with piv penetration

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-inggggg iluuuuu

--

December

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

You grumble in response, eyes still mostly closed, as you make your way by muscle memory to your apartment’s barely-functioning coffee machine. Only once you’ve poured a mug, stirred in everything you need to make it palatable, and taken your first sip, do you speak actual words.

“Morning. You’re up early.”

Jeonghan, one of your three roommates, nods solemnly. “I have a nine o’clock meeting today, but I need to get some files together first, so I’m trying to be there by eight,” he tells you. You glance at the clock on the microwave - it’s already 7:20.

“You might want to get moving,” you warn him.

He makes a face that says, I know, but - and cocks his head towards the bathroom the four of you share. The door is closed and the light inside is on, which means it must be occupied. It’s not usually a problem, even with four of you - your schedules are just different enough that it works out.

You frown. “Wonwoo isn’t gone yet?” He’s usually the first one out of the house on weekdays since he’s got the longest commute.

Jeonghan shakes his head, but then the light clicks off and the door opens. A girl you’ve never seen before steps out cautiously, then pauses when she sees the kitchen isn’t empty.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Hi. Good morning. I’ll just -”

She gives you each a polite nod and slips quickly back through the nearest door - Mingyu’s bedroom.

You face Jeonghan again and roll your eyes. He gives you a bit of a grimace and gets up, hurrying into the now-empty bathroom.

You take his seat at the table, sip slowly at your coffee. Having three guys as roommates means this happens with relative regularity, though usually the guys keep their conquests to weekends and holidays. Mingyu must have really liked this girl to bring her home on a weeknight. You glance back at his closed door; you can faintly hear their voices, but not what they’re saying. She was pretty.

You tuck away whatever feelings you might have about this, just like you always do, wipe your heart as clean as a classroom chalkboard at the beginning of a new day. Jeonghan vacates the bathroom, clearly in a hurry, and you take his place, turning the shower on and praying that there’ll be enough hot water left to get you through. (There’s not.)

Later, as you sit on the train amidst a sea of other morning commuters, you check your phone.

Roomies 💕

[8:07am] (jeong)Han Solo: i would like to issue a formal complaint

[8:07 am] wonuuu: i left plenty of coffee bro

[8:07am] (jeong)Han Solo: not that

[8:09am] Cinnamingyu: if this is a noise complaint… i’m sorry but also no i’m not

[8:09am] You: you’re disgusting

[8:09am] Cinnamingyu: you love me

[8:10am] You: 🙄

[8:10am] (jeong)Han Solo: so does the girl whose presence in our one (1) bathroom made me late this morning

[8:10am] (jeong)Han Solo: if i get fired you’re covering my part of the rent

[8:11am] Cinnamingyu: have fun defending that in small claims court

[8:11am] You: i am happy to be a witness on your behalf

[8:11am] Cinnamingyu: et tu brutus?

[8:11am] You: my shower was lukewarm at best

[8:12am] You: you will be hearing from my counsel

[8:12am] You: thanks in advance wonwoo

[8:14am] wonuuu: for the millionth time… I cannot be your counsel. I’m not qualified yet.

[8:14am] You: yet ☝️

[8:17am] Cinnamingyu: let’s not ignore the real problem here… we need another bathroom

[8:21am] (jeong)Han Solo: ok great, tell me when you win the lottery so we can move out

Chuckling, you slide your phone back into your coat pocket as the train pulls into your stop. You hurry through the train station, tucking your chin into your coat collar as you speed through the icy December morning. It’s one of those dry cold days, where the air around you feels frozen, almost hurts to breathe. Everything is grey - sky above you, buildings around you, ground below you. Fast steps take you the three blocks to your office building, where you sigh in relief as the heated air hits your face, chasing away the chill.

You check your phone again as you hang your coat on your chair in your cubicle. As usual, Mingyu has texted you privately, away from the group chat.

[8:31am] Cinnamingyu: sorry about the hot water :(

[8:38am] You: you should be. i shivered through my whole conditioning routine.

[8:38am] Cinnamingyu: poor sunny baby :( :( :( will you ever forgive me?

You roll your eyes, but you’re fighting a smile. You hate that Mingyu can just charm you right out of a mood, and you hate it even more than he knows it and weaponizes it. He’s the one who gave you the nickname Sunny (or Sunshine depending on how cranky you were at the given moment) back when you were a college freshman. Your other roommates picked it up, but Mingyu was the only one who ever turned Sunshine or Sunny into Sunny Baby.

It’s absolutely horrendous, unfathomable, deeply unfair that it works, that it makes you melt into goo when he uses it. Still, you try to hold strong.

[8:38am] You: don’t you Sunny Baby me Kim Mingyu, you have crimes to answer for!!!

[8:39am] Cinnamingyu: ill cook for you tonight as penance. and then maybe a movie?

You frown. You wish you could take him up on the offer. Mingyu’s a great cook. One of the many things you love about him.

[8:39am] You: rain check. i won’t be home for dinner

[8:39am] Cinnamingyu: what’s this? did you manage to bag a man????

[8:39am] You: i hate you so much

[8:39am] You: yes you absolute scrambled egg, i have a date

Mingyu sends you a gif of an old man suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, and you laugh out loud. Then you stash your phone behind your keyboard and get to work. But when you check it again a few hours later, after your first meeting of the day lets out, he’s texted you again.

[8:40am] Cinnamingyu: is it the same guy as last week? date number TWO?? 😮

[10:51am] You: yeeeeees 🤭

[10:51am] Cinnamingyu: wow, big moves for you. a second date! do we need to have The Talk?

[10:51am] You: blocked and reported

This is an ancient song and dance for you and Mingyu. When you’ve been friends as long as you have, some things just become routine. Like you, gracefully ignoring the handful of girls that you never see a second time. Like him, acting like it’s monumental when you actually give someone a chance.

He’s used to you giving no one a chance, ever. He knows it doesn’t happen much.

But you had a good first date with Daeyoung last week. A really good first date. You’d been texting a lot since then, too. He was funny - witty. And cute. So you’d thought to yourself… what the hell. Why not? Why not go out a second time? What else were you going to do tonight?

(Stay home and eat the food Mingyu cooks for you. Watch a movie together on the couch.)

And, sure, you do want to do those things. But going out with Daeyoung tonight won’t change a thing between you and Mingyu. He’ll grill you about it when you get home, maybe tease you a little, and you’ll do food and a movie another night.

Daeyoung takes you bowling. You weren’t sure how you’d feel about it, not having been in a bowling alley since you were a kid, and remembering them as vaguely sticky places. But it ends up being kind of cute, maybe even nostalgic. Daeyoung buys a pitcher of beer and sets it on your - yes - sticky table, and walks with you as you select a pink ball that is definitely meant for children. 

“You know that’s only six pounds, right?” he asks you, smiling playfully.

“Bold of you to think I could lift a heavier one,” you deadpan, and he laughs. You like his laugh - it’s easy, light, like he’s wholly uncomplicated. You could use some uncomplicated in your life. 

You're terrible at bowling - you score a 42 on your first game, the ball finding the gutter more times than it stays on the lane. Even so, you manage to have fun. Daeyoung doesn’t make you feel weird about it - in fact, he barely pays attention to the actual bowling. Instead he talks to you about your day, asks about your family, doesn't seem like he's freaked out that you live with three guy friends. He doesn’t even ask the very common, “so, has anything ever happened there?” for which you’re grateful. 

He’s got three sisters, you learn, and grew up with cats but still wants a dog someday. He graduated two years before you, has never traveled outside the country. 

You offer back your own resume of sorts - an older sister and a younger brother, no pets growing up and allergic to most mammals (perhaps humans included, as has been pointed out by Mingyu on many occasions, usually in the same conversation that he’s calling you Sunshine and pinching your cheeks like your attitude is cute). Graduated with Honors and haven’t traveled much either, though you’d love to when you have some money saved up.

Your phone lights up on the table every so often, and you check it while Daeyoung takes his turn on the lane. A few are Jeonghan and one of your co-workers, and one is your little brother asking how to get blood out of laundry which is super alarming - but the rest are from Mingyu.

[7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: just know that you are missing one of my best creations

[7:19pm] Cinnamingyu: but dont worry i will save you some ☺️ because i’m the best roommate ever

[7:31pm] You: thank youuuuu! I might not have any tonight but you know i’ll eat the leftovers!

[7:31pm] Cinnamingyu: hows the date?

[7:36pm] You: i am very bad at bowling actually!!!

[7:36pm] Cinnamingyu: aim for the pins

[7:43pm] You: have i mentioned that i hate you?

[7:43pm] Cinnamingyu: guess i’ll throw these leftovers out then

[8:12pm] Cinnamingyu: what time do you think youll be home?

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: sorry i didnt mean that like WHEN WILL YOU BE HOME YOUNG LADY

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: i was asking bc i was deciding if i want to start a movie or wait for you i wasnt trying to

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: you know

[8:15pm] Cinnamingyu: anyway. aim for the pins. wear protection. etc. see you later lol

[8:38pm] You: young lady 🙄 go away mingyu!!! 

[8:38pm] Cinnamingyu: you dont mean that

[8:38pm] You: i don’t 😘

[8:47pm] You: if you wanna save a movie for me… i should be home by 11

Daeyoung drives you home after the date, and you note that his car is clean, but not serial killer clean. A green flag. 

When he asks if he can see you again soon, as he's pulling the car up to your building, you tell him yes without hesitating. It’ll be your first third date in maybe ever, and you make a little note in your brain that you should probably talk to him about this, make sure he can be on the same page - that this is fun and you’ll keep going out as long as it’s a good time, but you aren’t really looking for serious.

When he pauses, leaning in a little closer, you feel yourself smile, and you let him. It’s a nice kiss.

He’s a nice guy.

There’s no reason you couldn’t follow through with this. There’s no giant problem with him, no personality quirk or inherent difference that makes him ineligible.

But. 

You push the thought away. “Thanks for tonight,” you tell him. “I had a good time.”

“You’d have a better time if you listened to my advice and used a heavier ball,” he says seriously, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he’s teasing. “You can’t expect to knock down pins when they weigh more than what you’re throwing at them.”

“Sounds fake,” you joke, and hop out of the car. Before you shut the door, you pause. “See you next weekend?”

His smile unfurls, pleased. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll text you.”

You practically skip back into the apartment. You pause at the closet by the front door, pulling off your boots and hanging up your puffy winter coat. You can hear the tv on in the living room and water running in the kitchen.

You step into the kitchen, heading for the fridge. Mingyu stands at the sink, his back to you, up to his elbow in suds. You bump him with your hips as you pass by, and he kicks at you and misses. You open the fridge and grab a can of seltzer. Mingyu smiles at you from the sink, and just like that, Daeyoung evaporates from your mind.

He calls you Sunny, but he’s the sun. Has been that way as long as you’ve known him - since undergrad. 

You’d met in your freshman year - he was puppy-dog cute, back then, not the chiseled sculpture of a man who takes up half your kitchen now. You’d been in the Arts and he’d been in the Sciences - something mathy - but you’d bonded in one of those godawful general requirement classes, and somehow the friendship had taken hold.

Mingyu holding your hand - metaphorically and literally - through your two required math classes and two required science labs was the only reason you’d even managed to graduate. Of course, you’d also written every single formal paper he had through the whole four years, so it evened out.

You complement each other that way, in every area. He’s outgoing and friendly, you’re cranky enough to be given the nickname Sunny in pure irony. Mingyu likes puzzles and problems he can work out, you like to turn the brain off for any and all hobbies. Mingyu is sunshine and big smiles, you are made of salt and sarcasm. 

But you love each other - have been best friends since almost the moment you met. There is nothing in your life you’d be willing to lose less than him.

You wander up to him and lean against his arm, mostly to be funny because he continues to wash dishes even as it jostles you around, and it becomes a little game of him trying to shake you off and you refusing to be shaken.

“How was your night?” he asks finally, reaching to turn off the water. You automatically pass him a dish towel to dry his hands. He takes it, drying, and then reaches around you to hang it back up near the oven. 

“Not as good as yours,” you snicker, noticing a purple blotch near his collar.

He flushes dark, slapping a hand over the spot. “Yah,” he complains. 

You laugh. “She was cute!”

“She’d be cuter if she spent less time in our bathroom!” Jeonghan’s disembodied voice floats from the living room.

“Alright, we get it!” Mingyu calls back hotly. “You’ve only been complaining about that for fifteen hours!”

Cackling, you follow him out into the living room. Jeonghan is sprawled sideways on the two-seater, a show you don’t recognize playing across the tv screen. Down the hallway, Wonwoo’s door is open about a foot, casting the hallway in flickering blue light that tells you he’s gaming and you probably won’t see him for the rest of the night. 

“So,” Jeonghan says dryly, without peeling his eyes from the tv, “I noticed your boyfriend’s car idling outside for quite a while before you came in. Were we necking?”

“Necking?” you splutter. Beside you, Mingyu is biting on his lips, trying not to laugh at your expense. “What year is this, 1950? And he’s not my boyfriend. You know that.”

You can’t help the defensive edge that creeps into your voice. From where he’s plopped on the couch, Mingyu reaches up for your hand, tugging. You let him pull you into the space next to him and he rubs a soothing hand across your shoulders before taking his hand away. It’s a silent, quick moment - easy to miss if you aren’t looking. But you are looking, always, and you wonder if he even knows he does this - reads your moods, rushes to fix you. 

Unbothered by your ruffled feathers, Jeonghan asks lightly, “So, are you seeing him again, or…?”

The bastard hasn’t even looked away from the television screen.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” you grumble at him.

Now he looks over at you, smiling beatifically, innocently. “There’s my Sunshine.”

“Fuck off.”

“Well?” Mingyu asks from next to you, eyebrows raised. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to sound casual. You can tell the jackals are in a mood tonight.

Jeonghan’s face splits into a delighted grin. “A third date? My goodness.”

“We all know what happens on a third date,” Mingyu says sagely, and you punch him in the thigh, extra hard since you can only reach him and not Jeonghan too.

Wonwoo’s voice comes from down the hallway. “Leave Sunny alone, you guys.”

“Yeah,” you grumble. “Leave Sunny alone.”

Mingyu stretches over your lap to reach for the remote. It brings his torso almost flush against yours and you feel your face heat. 

“I was watching that,” Jeonghan complains before Mingyu even presses anything.

“Sunny and I are watching a movie,” Mingyu says flatly. “Go watch on your laptop if you care so much.”

Jeonghan reaches towards your couch lazily and slaps at the air like he can’t be assed to work any harder to hit his roommate. “You’re cranky today,” he observes, the arm not trying (sort of) to slap Mingyu’s leg folded behind his head. “Why might that be?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer him, just settles back next to you, his arm against yours, and starts scrolling through movie options.

He still hasn’t picked one when Wonwoo appears in the living room’s doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, his LED headset looped around his neck and his eyes on his phone.

“What are we watching?” he asks absently.

“Nothing, apparently,” Jeonghan quips.

Beside you, Mingyu growls a little.

Unphased - this is so normal for them, it would be more alarming if they weren’t pissing each other off - you look up and Wonwoo and say, “I didn’t think you’d emerge tonight.”

“I’m heading right back in,” he admits. “Hydration break. Anyway - question. What’s everyone’s plans for the holidays?”

Mingyu stops scrolling, pausing to think. 

“I’ll be home,” Jeonghan says, meaning his hometown.

“Me, too,” Mingyu adds. “I’m leaving on Sunday. Next Sunday, I mean.”

Wonwoo lets out a little sigh. “Okay. My folks were asking when I was coming. Sunny, you’re going home, too?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you admit. “I was staying here.”

You feel rather than see your friends share a glance. 

“I can stay, then,” Wonwoo says, a bit tightly - you can tell that wasn’t the plan. “So you aren’t alone.”

“No,” you protest. “I’m perfectly fine being here by myself, you know that.”

“Sunny Baby is an indoor cat,” Mingyu notes, and you bump him with your elbow. 

“It’s fine,” you insist. “Plus, I think Daeyoung will be around, so I won’t be alone the whole time anyway.”

Mingyu’s eyes bore into the side of your face, but you don’t look at him; if it’s pity he’s leveling at you, you don’t want it. 

“If you’re sure,” Wonwoo says, and when you assure him you do, he vanishes into the kitchen and then back into his room. Mingyu clicks on a movie and you settle in, eventually getting sleepy and shifting sideways, your head resting comfortably on his unfairly sculpted shoulder. He shifts to let you get more comfortable, and the night passes as simply and pleasantly as hundreds before.

When the movie ends, you pick up the bottles and cans from the coffee table while Mingyu does a quick lap of the apartment, turning off lights and making sure doors are locked. You meet outside the bathroom - occupied by Jeonghan - both waiting your turn to brush your teeth and whatever else before bed. 

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu says softly, something tentative in his voice, and you look up at him, heart suddenly thumping. He’s looking at you earnestly in the dim light from the bedrooms down the hall, something you’re not sure you can name on his face. It’s almost pleading, but that doesn’t make sense. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me for the holidays? My family would love to have you - they’re obsessed with you, you know that.”

Your heart calms. “It’s really okay,” you promise. “But thanks for checking.”

The bathroom door opens and Jeonghan slips by, leaving a wave of toothpaste-mint in his wake. 

“You go ahead,” Mingyu says.

“You were in line first,” you argue.

He rolls his eyes but knows how stubborn you are, so he disappears into the bathroom. You lean your butt against the kitchen table and check your phone for the first time in a while.

Daeyoung had texted shortly after he drove away - probably as soon as he got home.

[11:24pm] Daeyoung: I had a really good time tonight. Looking forward to next week :]

[12:51am] You: me too ☺️

The bathroom door opens and you turn off your phone screen with a click, bidding Mingyu goodnight as you slide into the bathroom’s light.

–

January 

New Year’s Eve

Roomies 💕

[11:13pm] (jeong)Han Solo: sunny where’d you end up tonight?

[11:13pm] You: i’m with the girliesss!!! where are you guys

[11:13pm] Cinnamingyu: sunnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy baby baby baby

[11:13pm] You: yyyeeesssss??

[11:14pm] (jeong)Han Solo: we’re downtown. mingyu cant come to the phone right now but i think he wants you to come hang out with us

[11:14pm] You: lmao nooooo he didnt even make it to midnight??? thats sad, kim mingyu

[11:16pm] Wonuuu: u ever think about that phrase “can’t come to the phone”… from an era in which you had to walk to the family’s landline phone in the kitchen or whatever… none of us were even alive for that

[11:16pm] You: wow apparently you guys are having a much better time than me

[11:16pm] (jeong)Han Solo: only wonwoo lol ok be safe and have fun!! see you at home

–

[11:14pm] Cinnamingyu: come out!!

[11:14pm] You: i am out! Lol

[11:15am] Cinnamingyu: you know what i mean

[11:16am] You: im sorry :( but we’re across town and by the time we got there we’d miss the countdown

[11:16am] Cinnamingyu: ok 🙁

[11:16am] You: don’t pout!!! i’ll see you at home tomorrow and we can hang out all day

[11:16am] Cinnamingyu: not the same!

[11:17am] You: ok lets take a shot together!!

[11:17am] Cinnamingyu: ???

[11:17am] You: go order one and tell me when you’re ready!!

[11:18am] Cinnamingyu: lmao on it 🫡

[11:28am] Cinnamingyu: ok im ready

[11:28am] You: ok when you get this count to three and take your shot! 

[11:29am] You: geonbae or cheers or salute or whatever

[11:29am] Cinnamingyu: or whatever 🙄 

[11:29am] You: 😘

New Year’s Day

Roomies 💕

[12:00am] You: HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVES OF MY LIFE LET THIS BE THE BESTEWT YEAR FOR US EVER EVER EVR!!!!!

[12:00am] Wonuuu: happy new year sunny 🙂

[12:00am] (jeong)Han Solo: happy new yearrr 😽

[4:09am] You: home safe ♥️ 

[10:33am] Wonuuu: i’ll be home tomorrow sunny

[12:42pm] (jeong)Han Solo: i’ll be back tonight but probably not until after dinner

[12:42pm] You: ok! i’ll be here

[3:17pm] (jeong)Han Solo: is mingyu alive???

[3:17pm] You: lol yeah he’s home. he’s just… not in the best shape asfjkasfhaio

[12:00am] Cinnamingyu: happy new year sunny baby 🩷

[12:01am] You: happy new year best friend!!!!!!! ily ily ily!!!!

[12:32am] Cinnamingyu: you kno you could still meet us out nw

[11:23am] Cinnamingyu: can u open the front door… my head hurts too bad to make the keys work

You stagger to the apartment’s front door, eyes squinting against the harsh daylight streaming into the living room and kitchen area. When you unlock and pull open the door, Mingyu almost collapses on top of you.

“Get up,” you groan, shuffling backwards. “You’re too heavy, I can’t hold you!”

“Shhhh,” he whispers, but rights himself to standing. 

You stand there for a minute, both of you just grappling with the horrible reality of being awake and upright and, god, very hungover.

“I need to lay down,” Mingyu says finally, very clearly, like he’s had a sudden burst of self-preservation.

“Come on,” you wave at him vaguely and make your way back to bed. You collapse right into the spot you’d vacated when he texted, pulling the blankets up to your ears and closing your eyes, waiting for the bed to dip beside you. 

It doesn’t.

You open your eyes again. “Mingyu?”

He appears wordlessly in your doorway, then makes his way over to his side of the bed. The empty side of your bed. Not his. You have to stop thinking that way.

You’re puzzled, but then he leans over and presses a cold water bottle into your hand. Despite his whining, he was still trying to take care of you. 

“Did you take any pain killer?” you mumble. 

“Probably more than was actually advisable,” he admits, twisting his own water open and drinking noisily. You don’t see a problem with this - Mingyu is gigantic, and you can imagine his dosing needs would reflect it.

“Okay,” you say with a little sigh. “We’ll sleep for a while and then maybe we can try to eat.”

“God, don’t talk about food,” he moans, taking one of your extra pillows and covering his face.

You chuckle lightly, and then roll to hide your face somewhere near his bicep, breathing in his familiar cinnamon scent and matching your breaths to his until you slip back under. The millionth time you’ve fallen asleep next to your best friend, and you’re already eagerly looking ahead to a million and one.

You’re awakened by the sound of someone retching in the bathroom, clear on the other side of the apartment. You scrabble for and glance at your phone - hours have passed. The light in your bedroom has slipped closer to golden as mid-afternoon begins to wane. You sit up tentatively; this time there’s no wave of dizziness as a punishment for being vertical, though your head still pounds. 

You drink some of the water Mingyu brought you, answer a text from Jeonghan, then decide to go make sure Mingyu’s alive.

“You need anything?” you call through the door. You can hear the sink run, and the door opens. 

“A lobotomy,” he deadpans. He looks miserable, frown pronounced and eyes puffy. 

“Get back in bed,” you tell him gently, and he ambles off towards your room. You detour into the kitchen and start a pot of coffee. It might not save him, but you could use some caffeine. 

While it brews, you poke your head into your bedroom. Mingyu is back in your bed, curled up pitifully, that pouting frown still prevalent on his face. 

“What time did you take something?” you ask him.

“Like ten thirty,” he mumbles into your pillow. 

You glance at the clock. “You can have more,” you tell him, and head back across the apartment to pilfer through the medicine cabinet. 

With the pill bottle in hand, you stop in the kitchen long enough to pour yourself a cup of coffee. Carefully balancing so as not to spill, you bring it into the bedroom, placing it carefully on your nightstand and then nudging Mingyu’s shoulder. 

He whines a response. 

“I have drugs for you,” you tell him, and he holds up an open palm without lifting his face.  

You drop the medicine into his hand and get comfy back in your spot, even though you think you’re done sleeping for now. Beside you, Mingyu takes the pills and settles back into sleep. He’s snoring before you can even choose a show to watch on your phone. 

You look over at him fondly, disaster that he is. Then you settle in deeper, content to let his warmth radiate over to you, content to be by his side.

–

[12:02am] Daeyoung: happy new year! wishing you luck and happiness ☺️

[4:23pm] You: thank you!!! to you as well!!

–

February

Valentine’s Day is an emotional minefield. You don’t know if you want to lean into the bitter and single thing, or if you want to go all Gal-entines and pamper your friends, or if you want to just keep your head down and treat the day like any other fuck-ass Tuesday in winter.

The universe surprises you with a secret fourth option. Or, rather, Daeyoung does. 

You’ve lost track counting your dates with him at this point - you are simply dating. Neither of you has pushed for a what is this conversation, and you’re relieved. You like Daeyoung, you like the time you spend together, and you’d be sad if things ended. But at the same time, you don’t feel things getting deeper, and if he pushed you to make this serious, to put parameters on it, you’re not sure how you’d feel. 

Something inside you keeps it light - enough so that you don’t even think of doing anything for him to celebrate the holiday.

Apparently, you’re an asshole. 

Sometime after ten, your office’s secretary calls you, asking you to come up to reception for a minute. You’re suspicious, but you don’t do the mental math about what day it is until you turn the corner and see the small vase of roses - three of them, arranged with some baby’s breath and a few other fillers you can’t name - sitting on the reception counter.

“These got delivered for you,” she tells you, and it’s clear on her face that she’s dying for you to spill. “Are they from that guy? The tall one who looks like a movie star?”

This would annoy you if you weren’t so used to it. Everyone asks you if you’re with Mingyu - they never understand why you’re not when you two are attached at the hip.

It had happened once - just a kiss at a frat party, in the middle of the dance floor. You’d both been drinking, of course, and pressed close together to dance, his chest against your back and his hands on your hips and then you’d turned and tipped your chin up and his sparkling eyes had gone molten before he’d kissed you and your whole world had been swept away -

And you’d been interrupted, had been literally pulled away to deal with some drama happening in the kitchen, and somehow… you’d never talked about it. It never happened again.

Sometimes, you wonder if you only dreamed it. It wouldn’t surprise you.

But, no. Your imagination is good, but it’s not good enough to come up with the minute details of how his pecs had felt under your hands, how his fingers had felt pressed into the small of your back, how he had almost sighed into your mouth when it opened for him, how he had tasted a bit like cinnamon, courtesy of the fireball shots the frat was giving out like candy.

Anyway. Life goes on, right?

“No,” you tell the secretary quickly, because you know the roses aren’t from Mingyu. Even if he’d done something today, as your friend, he knows you aren’t much of a roses girl. “We’re just friends.” You will the words to leave your mouth without leaving ashes in their wake.

You reach for the small card tied around the thinnest part of the vase to see who did send them. 

Thought you deserved something pretty today. Don’t freak out. :] - Daeyoung

The secretary is still watching you, harmlessly curious. 

“It’s just a guy I’ve been seeing,” you say. “It’s not serious.”

“Wow,” she says, eyeing the simple arrangement. “Looks like he thinks it’s a little serious - or that it could be.”

“That’s probably true,” you muse out loud, taking the arrangement back to your own cubicle and setting it on your desk. You snap a photo and text it to Daeyoung with a thank you and a row of sobbing emojis. Then you stand behind your chair, eyes on the red petals, your hand pressed to your mouth, processing.

You didn’t expect to feel like this. A fluttering, a rush of excitement. Even though you aren’t into roses, specifically, the thought is very nice. And no one has thought of you, not like this, in a very long time. 

When you get home, the apartment is dark and empty. You wonder if any of the guys have dates tonight, or if they’re working late, or with family. You set the roses on the kitchen table, hang up your coat, and then shoot the grouptext a quick “where is everyone?”. Then you head into your room, eager to take a quick shower and change into something comfy.

You freeze when you flick on your bedroom light.

The clutter on your small desk has been pushed to the side, and a clear vase holds a thick bouquet of sunflowers - your favorite. 

You hear yourself gasp, the sound echoing through your head on a loop as you stare at the bright, yellow blooms. You step forward on shaky legs, reaching for the tiny card that’s slipped under the vase.

Sunny flowers for Sunny Baby. Love you. - M

The tears come with such unexpected force that you almost laugh through the third sob. You can barely see through the sudden stream of tears, can hear yourself struggling to inhale. You hurry to shut your bedroom door, locking it for good measure, and then those shaking legs of yours give up, and you sink to your knees and weep into your hands, trying to muffle the sounds, just in case anyone comes home.

You cry so hard it makes your abs hurt, makes the muscles in your face feel stretched, nearly makes you gag. You haven’t cried like this since undergrad.

Because he loves you, but he doesn’t love you, and even though you’ve been pretending for so long it’s as unconscious as breathing, it doesn’t shatter you any less. 

Because he’s perfect, and he’s yours, but somehow you still don’t have him, and in the meantime no one else will ever be enough -  just for not being him.

Because being thought of earlier by Daeyoung was nice, but it is so much better to be known, like this. Mingyu knows you don’t like roses. Mingyu knows your favorites. Mingyu knows you. 

And it’s a waste. It’s all for fucking nothing.

When the tears start to settle and you can breathe a little better, you push yourself back to your feet. You listen at your bedroom door and don’t hear anyone, so you hurry across the apartment and into the bathroom, where you blow your nose and splash your face with cold water. 

When you come out again, Jeonghan is in the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says, his back to you. When he turns, he freezes, his face dropping. You must be puffy and red, still.

“Hey,” you reply meekly. 

“Oh, Sunny,” he says mournfully, stepping closer. “I told him he shouldn’t, but he asked why not, he’s your friend, and I couldn’t say -”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah,” you mutter. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

He watches you carefully, probably trying to gauge if you’re lying. Then he spots the roses and lights up. 

“Well, well,” he says, a sly smile showing up on his face. “Those are nice.”

“Yeah,” you say again, the only word in your arsenal. “They are. I, um, I think I’m gonna shower. Do you need the bathroom first?” 

Under the spray of hot water, you cry a little more, like an aftershock hit you. It’s quiet this time, and you try to shoulder through it as you condition your hair, ready to put this whole episode behind you once you step out into the chilly bathroom air again.

When you emerge, Jeonghan is on the couch. By the sounds coming from down the hallway, Wonwoo has just gotten home and is dumping the contents of his life onto his bedroom floor. Jeonghan opens his mouth to say something, but you lift a fluffy-bathrobe-clad arm and silently shush him. 

“It’s fine,” you say again, firmly. 

Jeonghan had been your friend first, back in undergrad. You’d brought him into the friend group the same way Mingyu had brought Wonwoo. The four of you had worked cohesively as a friend-and-roommate unit for a long time, but sometimes those old alliances seemed to matter more than others. Jeonghan would never cross the line without your permission, would never tell your secrets if you weren’t willing to tell them yourself. Wonwoo, on the other hand, was much more likely to open his mouth - especially if he thought he was helping. 

The front door bursts open, and Mingyu enters the apartment in a cacophony of noise and dropped items, oranges spilling from the bag in his arms and rolling across the floor. You move to pick a few up as he puts the bag of groceries down and pulls his boots off.

“Sunny!” he says, all excitement, eyes shining. “Did you like my gift?”

You can’t even look at Jeonghan, turning your back to him completely as you hold out the oranges you’d collected. Mingyu takes them, but watches you eagerly, waiting for your answer.

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I loved it.”

His smile triples.

You were wrong when you said Mingyu was the sun. Mingyu is an avalanche. Rushing, rolling, thundering over and through you until there’s nothing left but a glinting field of ice and silence. Nothing else matters - nothing else exists - in his wake.

“You better watch out, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says from the couch, and your blood runs as cold as that field of ice, because you know he’s about to start some shit. “Sunny got flowers from her lover today. That guy’s coming for your woman.”

You’re opening your mouth to reprimand him - tell him to shut up, or something - but Mingyu beats you to it.

“Sunny’s not mine,” he says simply. 

All that ice evaporates in an instant like it was never there.

“My lover,” you echo with a frown, when you can speak again. “Don’t say it like that, you weirdo.”

“Well, isn’t he?” Jeonghan asks innocently.

You head for your bedroom with a roll of your eyes. “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

“That means yes,” he sing-songs, and you slam your door shut.

Wonwoo’s voice floats through the door. “Who pissed off Sunshine?”

Mingyu’s grumble responds, “Who do you think?”

–

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unspooling with cricket song and a smattering of flickering stars above you. His arm touches yours and you can feel his chest shift as he breathes deeply.

You feel content - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those blinking stars. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your light goes out, just like theirs. 

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek. 

He turns to look at you, too. It’s dark, here behind the university’s main hub, most of the lights on the far side of the building. Still, there’s enough light to see his eyes, steady on you, his gaze serious.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You startle awake, heart pounding, and you’re immediately furious. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, punching your mattress once. 

The pathetic truth is you dream about that night in undergrad all the time - you and Mingyu on one of the last nights before summer break, leaving a party together and laying in the grass behind the advising department building watching the constellations rotate above you. 

The pathetic truth is the dream never follows the script, always turning the scene sideways, making it something different than what it was.

The pathetic truth is that Mingyu had been blacked out, more fucked up than you’d ever seen him, and you’d laid in the grass because you physically couldn’t keep him upright any further than that and you’d had to text Wonwoo to come help you. 

You hadn’t said anything to Mingyu - at least not something meaningful. You might have said please don’t puke on me, or god, you weigh a ton, or how many jaeger bombs did you do? 

He had said he loved you - had slurred it, eyes closed. 

You had laughed, even though it had sent a dagger through your chest. “Okay, Romeo,” you’d teased, and checked your phone to see if Wonwoo was on his way to help. 

“I do,” he’d insisted, one hand patting the grass next to him like he was trying to find you. “Sunny, I love you.”

You didn’t know how he meant it - still don’t know, to this day, because you don’t think he even remembered saying it and you’d been too afraid to bring it up.

What were you supposed to say? Hey, when you were blacked out last night, you said you love me… do you mean like… platonically… or…? 

God. The idea of it is just as humiliating now, years later, as it had been in the weeks that followed that night. And though he’s said it regularly since then - like on this fucking card with the sunflowers - he never said it like that, and you never pushed it. 

Now, awake and furious and sad at three in the morning, you grab your phone and climb out of bed. 

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s only making this worse for you. But you make your way on light steps through the dark and silent apartment to Mingyu’s door and push it open.

Is it mithridatism, this thing you do? Microdosing on the poison so that a full dose won’t kill you? No, that isn’t right. A full dose of Mingyu wouldn’t kill you. It’s an absence of Mingyu that you need protected from.

You climb into his bed and poke at his calves with your toes until he grunts as he wakes. Then, as he gathers his senses, he rolls to look at you over his shoulder.

“Bad dream?” he asks, voice kind of breathy with sleep.

“Mhm.”

He rolls the rest of the way, lifts his arm so you can scoot a little closer. You breathe easier immediately. It makes no sense that the thing that hurts you is also the only thing that makes you feel better. 

“Won’t your lover object to you getting in bed with me?” he asks, and you can hear the edge in his voice as clear as day.

You let out a single, wry ha. He’s got a point, but Daeyoung isn’t your boyfriend, you aren’t exclusive, and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Nah,” you say easily. “I’m not his.”

-

March

March can’t make up its mind if it’s winter or spring. Warm days lull you into a false sense of security, and then a blistering cold rushes in just to call you a fool.

You’re the last one to get to the bar on Friday night after work, and you have to stand awkwardly next to the booth the guys have staked out and unwrap yourself - hat, scarf, gloves, puffer coat, big heavy sweater - before you can actually slide into the empty spot next to Mingyu.

“Hi bestie,” he says, immediately draping his arm behind your shoulders, resting on the back of the wooden bench. “How was your day?”

“Fuck Marcus in Accounting,” you answer.

“Fuck Marcus in Accounting,” your roommates all answer solemnly, because this is a common gripe. 

“Fireball and ginger ale it is, then,” Mingyu says, and climbs over you to head to the bar, his own empty beer glass in hand. When he slides the cocktail glass in front of you and scoots back to his original spot, you fill the guys in on Marcus’s Bullshit of the Day. 

“And then,” you finish the story, “I was like yeah, I know you did, Marcus, because she blind-copied me on her reply and you should have seen the color his face turned so I think it’s fair to say I won this round.”

“I’m surprised they aren’t all scared of you,” Wonwoo remarks. 

“Marcus is,” you say, glowering at your now-empty cocktail glass. “That’s why he’s such a dick. He hates that he’s intimidated.”

Mingyu’s arm has slid down from the back of the bench and rests lightly across your shoulder by this point, and he gives you a playful squeeze into his side as he laughs. 

He starts telling a story next, and you listen as you slip your phone out and check your texts. Daeyoung had texted you a while ago, and you shoot him a quick answer that you’re out with your roommates for Friday drinks, and then dial back into the conversation. 

When Mingyu’s glass is empty again, you rise, taking the empties up to the bar and signalling for another of each. While you wait, elbows on the bar, you check your phone again. Daeyoung had texted back, asking where you guys were drinking.

You hesitate. The idea of incorporating Daeyoung into the group makes you nervous. Behind you, you can hear Mingyu yapping a thousand miles a minute, and Jeonghan’s distinctive heh heh heh in answer. It’s not that you don’t think the guys will be nice… it just feels like a big move. 

It might be nice to have him there, though - someone on your side when Jeonghan and Mingyu gang up on you and Wonwoo is too in his own world to be effective back-up, someone to hold your hand and get your drinks, someone to be in your own private little bubble with when the conversation ebbs and flows away from topics you can engage with. 

You send him back “just a little place by the apartment!” which is technically true, and then grab the refreshed drinks for you and Mingyu. 

The guys are getting up, making noise about a just-vacated darts board, so you swivel and turn to follow them, a cold drink in each hand.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu tells you, half an hour later, bending down low so he can talk close to your ear over the loud music, “you have to put more muscle into it. You have to throw it like you want to pierce it.”

“I don’t think it’s that serious, actually!” you tell him cheerfully, and down the rest of your drink, pushing the empty glass into his giant hand. His turn. 

He shoots you a grin so sharp and devilish that it makes your whole body fight a shudder, and then he disappears off to the bar. 

You heckle Jeonghan through his turn (unsuccessfully - he’s way better at this than you) and then glance at the bar to see if the bartenders have gotten to Mingyu yet in the crowd. He’s facing you, his arms crossed, that same devilish smile on his face. He leans sideways on the bar, where your drink and his own beer sit sweating, forgotten. 

The girl he’s smiling at has her back to you, which is a miracle, because if she’d been able to see your face fall, she probably would have back-pedaled out of the conversation immediately - it would be impossible for her not to see that she was walking into a flashing neon sign screaming this situation is a mess!!!!

When she laughs, throwing her head back, and reaches a hand out to touch his forearm, you feel the whole bar swoop sideways around you. You’re fumbling for your phone, even as you hear Mingyu’s answering laugh cut through all the loud music and conversations filling the space, even as you watch through your periphery as he gives her a return nudge to the shoulder, playful, that smile only growing.

You’re going to be sick.

You shoot Daeyoung a text - sorry, I should have told you which bar. I’m leaving now though. Do you want to come get me? We could chill for a little? - and then you push your way through the bar, not even bothering to tell Jeonghan and Wonwoo goodbye. You make an extra effort to skirt the opposite wall as the bar, hoping you get out without Mingyu spotting you. 

There’s no way you could fake it right now. Zero chance. If he came after you, it would all be out in the open.

Daeyoung answers you almost immediately - no worries! sure, send me your location. you want to hang at my place? 

Outside, the cold air assaults you. You immediately hesitate, wishing you’d grabbed your coat. You’ll get pneumonia waiting for Daeyoung without it.

You’re saved the trouble of going back in - the door opens and someone comes out after you. But it isn’t Mingyu - it’s Jeonghan, giving you the heaviest side-eye you’ve ever seen from him, your coat in his hands.

“Thank you,” you breathe when he’s close enough, taking the coat and sliding it over your arms. “It’s freezing.”

“Sunny,” he says, and something in his voice makes you pause. “I think we should talk.”

You cover your face with one hand, embarrassed and spent and tired. “About what?” you ask flatly, just to buy yourself a second. You know the answer. Of course you do.

He levels you with a look. “This can’t continue,” he says firmly. “For you, or for him, or for me and Wonwoo.”

You scoff. “What do you two have to do with it?” 

You’ve never seen him this serious, and it scares you a little. “Do you think it’s easy for me to watch you get hurt?”

You lower your gaze to the ground and don’t answer this; it feels rhetorical. 

“But you’re right - it’s not about us. It’s about you. Something has to give,” he says gently. “Either face it and get your answer, or let it go.”

“It’s not that simple,” you argue.

“Yes, it is that simple,” he retorts. “It’s just scary. But that’s not the same thing.”

“I can’t tell him,” you say, because it’s true. You can’t. You can’t. “What if it messed up everything for all of us?”

What if you lost him completely? What if he moved out? What if he stopped talking to you? 

Jeonghan doesn’t reply to this at first, he just watches you carefully, then tucks a long strand of dark hair behind his ear. 

“You can,” he says finally, still gentle. “But… if you won’t… then you have to let him go.”

Your stomach drops at the words, even though this is a truth you’ve been aware of for ages, have been doing your best to avoid. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” you whisper. And it’s true - loving Mingyu feels as instinctual as your heartbeat, intrinsically part of who you are. How can you separate it out, shut it down? 

“Stop sharing a bed with him,” Jeonghan suggests, and it’s so simple and straight-forward and correct that you can’t think of a single argument. “Quit texting him but ignoring everyone else. Stop cuddling with him on the couch after work. Quit-”

“Alright, I get it,” you snap, the defensiveness rising up again like muddy waters. 

“I’m not sure you do,” he says, and the gentleness is gone from his tone; you’ve moved into the Tough Love section of the lecture, apparently. “You can’t keep playing house with him, pretending you’re together, and then falling apart every time he makes it clear that it isn’t real. You’ll never feel better like this. It will never change, Sunny. You’ll be like this, forever. Is that what you want?”

Your throat is tight and sharp, and you blink quickly, eyes on the ground again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he says it like he aches. Maybe he means it. “You could talk to him, you could at least see what he says -”

“No,” you interrupt. “No. I can’t do that.”

He shrugs, big and exaggerated. “Then move on. There are other people in the world who’d be happy to love you the right way. You can’t give any of them a proper chance if you’re holding it against them that they aren’t Mingyu.”

Like the one you ignored all night, who is still on his way to pick your ass up right now… 

You push your hands against your eyes like you can block out the truth of what he’s saying, but you don’t say anything.

Jeonghan reaches out and rubs your shoulder. “I’m gonna go back in,” he says, gentle again. “It’s freezing out here. Just… think about it.”

“I’m thinking,” you say dryly. 

He nods, then disappears back into the bar, the wave of sound crashing and fading as the door opens and closes. 

You stay outside and wait for Daeyoung’s car, your hands going numb from the cold. You run the whole thing over and over in your head, replay Jeonghan’s words, daydream a hundred conversations with Mingyu each with different endings. 

You think maybe you should take Jeonghan’s advice - put some physical distance between you and Mingyu, just as a starting point. 

You hate the idea of it. But you know he’s right.

When Daeyoung pulls up, you slide into the passenger seat and tell him thank you, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He smiles at you, all sweet, and then whisks you away. Halfway to his place, he glances over at you.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he observes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, and then instantly feel bad for it. “Just… argued with my roommate. I’m kind of cranky.”

He reaches out and squeezes your knee once, reassuringly. “Well, you’re welcome to stay with me,” he says, and when you whip around to look at him, he laughs. “I wasn’t being presumptuous. I just meant if you needed some space from them, you’re welcome. That’s all.”

“Yeah, okay,” you repeat, settling back against the seat. “We’ll see.”

You keep your eyes on the window for the rest of the drive. 

You wonder if Mingyu brought that girl home, and then you shove that thought away, because you’re letting him go, starting tonight, and those thoughts aren’t going to serve you anymore.

And then you wonder the same thing again five minutes later.

–

April 

Winter softens, the temperature sturdies itself, and the season forms solidly into rain-logged spring. 

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu sings. Even on the greyest, soggiest days you turn to him like a plant turns to sun. “I’m bored.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” you quip. 

He drapes himself over you in retaliation, long arms and legs hanging heavy towards the floor as his torso smothers your face, drowning in you in his cinnamon-tinged scent.

You protest wordlessly and shove at him, and he laughs, his abs working near your chest with the motion.

“Entertain me,” he whines.

Things have been different - weird different, sometimes even bad different - for a few weeks now, all because of Jeonghan. You choose to blame him, anyway. 

What he said to you plays in your head on loop all day every day, and suddenly you don’t know how to act right with Mingyu, causing you to overcorrect and swerve wildly. Sometimes you’re spending the entire day with him, touching and talking and leaning into it - then you think about it too hard and you spend the next two days icing him out. 

It’s confusing for both of you. You can tell he notices, can tell he’s baffled by the change. More than once you’ve caught him looking at you like you’re a problem to solve - that face he makes when something isn’t working, or he’s got an equation of some sort to work out. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make you feel bad about it, doesn’t confront you, just takes what you’ll give him with a smile.

You haven’t gone to his room in the middle of the night since your talk with Jeonghan, either. It feels like quitting something. The withdrawal eats at your nerves, the cravings taking over until you can’t focus on anything else. More than one night since then you’ve laid awake, staring at your ceiling, heart pounding as you argue with yourself - just go, you’ll sleep and you’ll feel better waging war against Jeonghan’s you can’t keep pretending you’re together and then falling apart when he makes it clear that it isn’t real. 

Each time, you’d ended up staying in your own bed. Jeonghan is right. You knew it when he said it, and you know it now. You have to let go if you’re ever going to be happy. You can’t keep living in the shadows of Mingyu’s life, waiting for him to come give you just a slice of himself and pretending to be sated by it.

“I can’t entertain you, you pain in my ass,” you say, as he allows you to roll his heavy body off of yours and onto the other side of your bed. “I have a date with Daeyoung in like an hour. I need to go shampoo.”

“Booooo,” he complains. Then he props himself up on one elbow and gives you that familiar look again - the math problem look. Not calculating, exactly, but definitely evaluating. “You’ve been seeing him for a while,” he remarks, and you can hear the effort to keep his tone casual, which makes you wonder what he’s hiding.

“Like four months,” you say, not sure if this is agreeing with him or not.

He nods, then rolls to face your ceiling, arms behind his head. It does disgusting things to his biceps, and you look away, sitting up and reaching for your phone to check the time.

“How’s that going?” he asks, still all casual. 

“Good,” you say airily, still not looking at him.

“Sunny,” he says, a bit more seriously, and it’s enough to make you glance his way. He’s facing you, arms still behind his head, but watching. “Why won’t you talk to me about it?”

Ice flows through your veins so quickly that you have the urge to blow on your fingers to warm them. Talk to me about it. You take a calming breath, remind yourself that he’s asking about Daeyoung, not about your feelings in general.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “Just feels weird.” 

“It didn’t used to,” he says, and you know exactly what he means. You’d always talked to him about anything - including boys and crushes. 

He doesn’t ask so what’s different now, but you know the answer anyway. You’re afraid you’ll say anything, and Mingyu - who knows you better than anyone else - will hear everything you aren’t trying to say. How you feel about him, how you’ve been trying to create distance and boundaries, how it’s been unsuccessful because you have no sense of consistency, how you can’t seem to accept that you don’t get to have him, how Daeyoung is so nice and fun and cute but still can’t silence the urge behind your ribs that screams for Mingyu.

“Yeah,” you sigh, acknowledging that he’s right - that you used to tell him everything. “I don’t know, Mingyu. It’s good. I like him. Like… I don’t necessarily think he’s The One or anything, but I’d be upset if we broke up?” 

Mingyu nods, something complicated on his face. “Well,” he says finally, “That’s good. I’m glad it’s going well. You deserve it.”

There’s something flat in his voice, and you stand because you can’t just sit there next to him right now. 

“Thanks,” you say, because you don’t know what else to say. “Well… I’m gonna go shower so I’m not late.” You grab the few things you need from your room and pause in your doorway. He’s pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping slowly and his eyes on the screen, and you carry on across the hallway, leaving him behind.

The way you need to. The way you’re trying to. 

Daeyoung takes you to dinner, making you laugh so hard you have to wipe under your eyes, and listening intently when you bitch about work (and, yes, Marcus in Accounting). 

After, as you walk along the river, looking out at the lights, Daeyoung reaches for your hand, and you link fingers. 

This is what you need - to lean into it with someone, to really try with someone. Maybe that will ease this process of shifting Mingyu to the background. Maybe you just need to try.

Like he can read your mind, Daeyoung slows, turning to look at you. He says your name hesitantly, and you match his slowed pace, waiting.

“We’ve been doing this for a while,” he says, kind of hesitantly, “and I kind of wanted to see if we’re on the same page.”

When you just look at him, he forges ahead, the words rushing out of him now. “I really like you, and I really like this… and I was wondering how you’d feel about… maybe being more official?”

You feel yourself flush, a smile tugging at your lips. “Are you… asking me to be your girlfriend?”

He smiles back, relief washing over his face. “Yeah,” he says, much more confident now. “Yes, I am.”

You lick your lips, suddenly unsure. “Daeyoung,” you say, and you watch his face fall. You hurry to amend - “No, I’m not saying no! It’s just… I don’t know… I feel like we’ve kept things pretty… light. And I just worry that if we get more serious and you see more of me… you might…”

You trail off. He watches you intently, and then finishes for you, “Change my mind?”

You nod meekly. What if you can’t do it - what if you can’t push Mingyu out of your head and heart, what if you can’t start fresh with someone? Daeyoung has been wonderful to you. He doesn’t deserve to get hurt. He doesn’t deserve to be second choice, doesn’t deserve to be a consolation prize. 

You can’t say yes if that’s what this will be. You need to be sure you’re all in, you need to be sure you want him and not just the fresh start he represents.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say instead, quietly. 

He considers this, watching you carefully. “Why do you think you will?”

It’s a fair question. “I’m… trying to get over someone,” you force yourself to say. He deserves to know what he’s walking into. 

You watch his face for any change in expression. His expression does ripple a little, and then he licks his lips and asks, “And how’s that going?”

You scuff the toe of one shoe absently along the pavement. “Goes better when you’re around,” you admit. “But I don’t want to be… like… using you, I guess? It feels… unfair.”

He nods. “I appreciate that,” he says, looking away from you, at the river. He’s quiet for a while and then asks, “Are you into this? With me?”

“Yes,” you say emphatically, because despite the Mingyu of it all, it’s true. “I just don’t want you to end up with regrets.”

He smiles kind of ruefully. “Thanks for being honest,” he says, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask in a whisper. You really hope you aren’t breaking up right now, but you wouldn’t blame him if he called it off.

He lets out a long breath, very slowly, measured. “I’m thinking that no one can make promises at the beginning of a relationship.”

Your stomach jolts, terrified, at the word. He continues, oblivious.

“But,” he says, “you just take it a day at a time. That’s all I’m asking for - just a day. And then maybe another. We can go from there.”

You consider this, that tiny smile returning. He waits for your answer.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Yeah. If you’re sure you want that, then… yes.”

“Yes?” he repeats, like he needs to be sure. He’s already grinning, despite the turn the conversation had taken on the way here.

You laugh, feeling suddenly shy. “Yeah. Yes.”

He kisses you next to the singing river, and later you take a selfie together beside a food cart. You post it to social media with a blue heart emoji for the caption. 

You swallow hard and swipe roughly to remove the notification when Mingyu likes the picture minutes later. 

–

May

“Kim Mingyu!” you bellow, scooping up an armload of shirts and socks from the living room floor. “Get your gross, sweaty clothes off of our shared couch! The hamper is like three feet away!”

“Yah,” he complains, coming to take the offending pile from you. “You never cared before!”

“Well now her boyfriend is coming over,” Jeonghan says, somehow making the word sound sleezy. “She wants it to be pretty in here.”

“I hate you both,” you say. “I only like Wonwoo. He’s my only friend. Wonwoo, you’re my only friend.”

Wonwoo gives you a very deadpan finger heart from his spot on the couch. 

Unfortunately, Jeonghan is kind of right. 

You’ve mostly spent time out with Daeyoung or at his place - mostly because he lives alone and you live with a cast of clowns. But he has come over a handful of times. Sometimes he’s only there long enough to stand awkwardly by the front door while you finish putting on jewelry and shoes before whisking you away; other times he’s stayed to eat take-away and watch a movie as the aforementioned clowns filter in and out, leaving snappy comments like use protection in their wake. 

Tonight’s the first time that the plan is for everyone to hang out. To say you’re nervous is an understatement, as evidenced by the uncharacteristic way you pace the house, adjusting items Daeyoung has already seen out of place as if it makes any difference.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu finally says, coming up and putting his hands on your shoulders, trying to still you. You pull back from his touch as gently as you can, trying to make that space with some subtly. “Why are you freaking out? He’s been here before.”

“Yeah, you’re right, why would I be nervous?” you ask sarcastically. “Why would I be nervous to have my boyfriend come over for games and movies with three notoriously very nice people who never make trouble?”

“Rude,” Wonwoo remarks from the couch.

“Not you, Wonwoo, you’re my only friend,” you tell him without even turning your head. You hear Jeonghan snort.

“You said three,” Mingyu points out seriously, stepping back from you like he silently got the memo about space. “That includes Wonwoo.”

“Fine, I retract my statement. Two people who make trouble, and then one person who knows how to be normal sometimes.”

A knock on the door interrupts you before anyone can push your buttons any further.

“Be nice,” you tell them sternly as you head to open the door. “Be normal. For the love of god, at least try.”

“She has no faith in us,” Jeonghan says sadly behind you. 

“We probably shouldn’t try Monopoly tonight,” Mingyu remarks, and you hate that he’s right. 

You all almost broke up over Monopoly, once. You never played again. 

“Yeah, put that one away,” you agree, as you pull the door open.

Daeyoung greets you with a smile and a small bouquet of flowers - nothing too fancy, just a little something. You pay for them with a smile and a kiss, lifting onto your tiptoes to reach his lips.

“Awwww, so cute,” Jeonghan coos from across the apartment.

“Jeonghan,” you say sharply. “What did we talk about?”

Daeyoung feigns a pout. “You don’t think we’re cute?”

You slap at his arm playfully and step back to let him in. You head to the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers, listening as the men all exchange heys and how’ve you beens. 

You all settle for a variation of Rummy, sitting around the kitchen table with a smattering of snacks and drinks, chatting easily as you play.

At the end of the second hand, you ask, “Wait, what does that put me at?”

“Sixty-two,” Daeyoung says, just as Mingyu says, “Sixty-three.”

You look at them both blankly. You and numbers don’t vibe. 

Jeonghan looks at the little note on his phone where he was tallying scores. “Sixty-three,” he confirms.

“Whoops,” Daeyoung says apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to short you on points, sweetheart.”

All three of your roommates stiffen, and you feel your face heat. “No worries,” you say quickly, reaching to cut the deck for the next hand. “Whose turn is it?”

Be normal, be normal, be normal, you mentally beg the clowns. 

“I think it’s mine, sweetie-pie,” Jeonghan deadpans. You kick him ferociously under the table, not even trying to be subtle, and he swears.

“Knock it off,” you growl.

“You’re upsetting pookie, hyung,” Mingyu says somberly. 

“I hate all of you,” you whine. And then, on instinct, “Not you, Wonwoo.”

Daeyoung looks around the table, amused. “Is this always how it is around here?”

“Basically,” Wonwoo admits. “Just usually with a lot more -” He stops short, coughing, and reaches for his drink. You all wait, your heart thrumming nervously. You’re sure he’d been about to drop a crack about you and Mingyu’s physical affection. “A lot more yelling,” he finishes. “This is everyone on their best behavior, because Sunny threatened us.”

Daeyoung laughs, and you pray that the moment went unnoticed. You can tell Mingyu is a bit still on your other side, and if it was a month ago you would have reached over to him already, soothed a hand down his arm or pressed your cheek to his shoulder until he untensed. You rest your hands in your lap, instead, eyes on your cards.

After Rummy, which Jeonghan wins by a landslide, you all head to the couches for a movie.  Your roommates and you have always had unspoken “spots”, but Daeyoung’s presence throws the balance off entirely. Normally you’d be next to Mingyu but he takes Jeonghan’s spot, leaving the other guys to buffer as they try to figure out a new arrangement.

“Here,” Daeyoung says, tugging on your wrist until you settle on his lap, legs hanging just off the side of his own, “we can make room.”

Jeonghan tosses you a small blanket and a wink and settles in on the far side of your couch, giving the two of you lots of room. Wonwoo flicks off the overhead lights and settles next to Mingyu, the two of them awkwardly squished on the two-seater. But, blessedly, no one complains as the opening score emanates from the sound bar. 

As the movie begins, you relax, leaning sideways against Daeyoung’s chest, his arms looped around you. You stomp down on the intrusive thought that wants to compare how comfortable this is to how comfortable you’d been with Mingyu for past movie nights, internally hissing at your own brain for the unwelcome thought. 

“You good?” he murmurs, voice low, only for you, one hand rubbing the small of your back lightly.

“Mhm,” you assure him, reaching up to kiss the edge of his jaw, the only bit of him that you can reach comfortably. He smiles down at you, endeared, and then turns his attention to the television again. You can feel someone’s eyes on you, but you refuse to look, refuse to give attention to whoever is trying to heckle you right now. They can’t just let you live, huh?

Halfway through the movie, Mingyu stands, moving out of the way of the screen quickly and heading to the kitchen. You don’t lift your head from Daeyoung’s check, just watching him go through the corners of your eyes. 

“Anyone need a drink?” he calls from the kitchen. “Hyung? Sunny Baby?”

Daeyoung physically recoils, his head snapping back so he can look at you, wide-eyed. You look back at him the same way, feeling like you’ve been caught at something. 

“It’s just habit,” you say, quietly, and Jeonghan turns away, shifting awkwardly next to you two. “Old nickname from a million years ago.”

Daeyoung nods, but his face is still a bit stricken.

“Hello?” Mingyu calls from the kitchen. “Beer? Anyone?”

“No, thanks!” you call back, trying to force your voice to come out cheerful. 

When he returns, flopping unceremoniously into his spot next to Wonwoo, Daeyoung’s arms tighten around you. 

You close your eyes, frustrated. You hope you can salvage this. You’d been afraid from the jump that the Mingyu factor - even with the changes you’ve been purposely making, all that space - would damage what you have with Daeyoung, as effective as a drop of ink in a bucket of water. 

When the movie ends, Wonwoo gives a polite goodbye and vanishes into his lair and you lead Daeyoung back towards the front door. Behind you, you can hear the tell-tale clicks of bottles as Jeonghan and Mingyu start picking up the food and drinks. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, as soon as you have some semblance of privacy in the entryway. “I knew hanging out here was going to be a mess.”

Daeyoung manages a smile. “It wasn’t a mess,” he says. “I just didn’t realize how close you all were.”

He’s being too nice. You feel terrible. 

“I think we might get less close very soon if they can’t get their shit together,” you grumble, which makes him laugh, some of the tension alleviating. 

“Well,” Daeyoung says, suddenly turning conspiratory, “while your place was very fun… what would you say to some fun at my place now?”

You giggle. “I wouldn’t hate that plan,” you say coyly, smiling up at him. “Quieter, there. Fewer clowns.”

He laughs again, even as he reaches to tilt your jaw up, shuffling you backwards against the entryway wall as his lips find yours. 

As the kiss warms you, your hands finding the front of his shirt and bunching it into your fists, heat beginning to trickle out of hiding in your belly, you hear footsteps and an abrupt, “Oh - shit - sorry - my bad -”

“Your place,” you say against Daeyoung’s lips as Mingyu retreats back to the kitchen. You can practically feel through the wall how red his ears are. 

Daeyoung lets you out of his embrace and you hurry to your room to toss a few things together - toothbrush, phone charger, clothes - and come to get your jacket. 

“Bye, idiots!” you call through the apartment. Then, “Not you, Wonwoo!” and you close the door behind you with a giggle, following Daeyoung down the stairs.

On the other side of the wall, safely hidden in the kitchen, Mingyu stands staring blankly at the pantry, one hand over his mouth, still as a statue. What is this feeling churning in his gut? He feels sick, and he can’t put a name to it but he hates how it crawls through his system. 

Jeonghan appears next to him, placing two more dirty cups in the sink. He lets out a single, wry laugh when he sees Mingyu standing there.

“Yeah, dude,” he says easily as he leaves again. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

–

June

You and Mingyu lay side by side in the grass, a late spring night unfurling with distant thunder and a smattering of fireflies lazily drifting through the trees beyond the garden. His arm brushes yours and you can hear his breathing as he exhales slowly.

You feel happy - you feel infinite - you feel like one of those distant cracks of ferocious thunder. You feel like you could lay here next to him in silence and be happy until your joy has to burst from you, just like the clouds on the horizon. 

“Mingyu,” you say, turning to look at him. The grass tickles your cheek. 

He turns to look at you, too. It’s dark, here behind the university’s main hub, most of the lights on the far side of the building. Still, there’s enough light to see his eyes, steady on you, his gaze serious.

“Sunny Baby,” he responds, voice low, like he’s telling you a secret. “I love you.”

You wake up with faint tear-tracks on your cheeks, and you growl out a frustrated breath. 

“I need a lobotomy,” you grumble, wiping at your cheeks and trying to get comfortable again, hoping to go back to sleep - with less ridiculous dreams. 

It doesn’t happen. You flop from side to side over the course of half an hour, and then give up. You reach for your nightstand to see if you have any water, but there’s nothing but your phone and the lamp. With a sigh, you push yourself out from under the blankets and pad into the kitchen.

You’re letting a glass fill with tap water when you hear one of the other doors down the hallway open. You turn, peering through the moonlit living room, to see who else is up. The clock above the stove says it’s four in the morning.

“Sunny Baby,” Mingyu says, his voice rough with sleep. His hair is sticking up in the back. Your stomach lurches with the sick desire to smooth it down. “Why are you up?”

“Had a bad dream,” you lie. It was a good dream. Nothing bad about it until you wake up and feel guilty because of Daeyoung, and angry because your brain and heart are holding you fucking hostage. “Couldn’t get back to sleep.” That part’s true. 

“Poor Sunny Baby,” he croons, coming closer, the darkness making his form seem even bigger. “Come on - we’ll get comfy.” Just like we used to, he doesn’t say.

Your heart slams against your chest. “Oh,” you say softly. Because, yeah, a few months ago you wouldn’t have even needed him to invite you - you would have been there already, snuggling into the space next to his ribs, breathing him in until sleep returns to you. “Mingyu, I can’t.”

The blanket of darkness makes him bold. He scoffs, not even trying to hide it. “Why not? Because of that guy?” Like he doesn’t know Daeyoung’s name, like the last five months never happened. That guy. 

“Because I want to respect my relationship?” you correct gently. “Yes, that’s why. It wouldn’t be right, and you know it.”

You stand in silence for a moment, barely able to see each other across the darkened space, at an impasse. Then, he scoffs again, lighter this time. 

“Fine,” he says, moving past you towards the bathroom - probably the reason he was up in the first place. “Suit yourself.”

When he passes back through the living room on his way back to bed, you’re curled up on the couch under one of the blankets, the tv on with the sound turned low. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns down the hall and shuts his bedroom door behind him. You hear the lock click. You press your hands to your face and will yourself to breathe deep. Crying over him while asleep is one thing. Doing it while awake feels like a betrayal. 

Just one more you can add to your list.

–

“Hey!” you yell across the noisy room. Mingyu turns from where he’s standing near your bedroom door, talking to a few guys who you’ve seen around here but whose names you forget. Seok… something. The other one might be a Chan, you’re not sure. Mingyu lifts an eyebrow, waiting for whatever request you’re going to shout at him. 

“Can you get the door for me?” you call, trying to be louder than the music and chatter. Your apartment is bursting with people as Mingyu’s annual summer bash is well underway. You’re at the pong table - your kitchen table, shoved halfway into the living room - a slightly sticky plastic ball in hand. “Daeyoung is here, I can feel my phone going off.”

Mingyu gives you a wordless salute and shuffles off towards the front door, and you close one eye, lean forward as far as the others will let you without calling a foul, and line up your shot.

You sink it just seconds before you feel someone’s hands on your hips. You straighten up and turn to greet Daeyoung with a kiss, firm and confident courtesy of many drinks. The party’s been going for a few hours already, and you and the guys pregamed before the guests started showing up.

“Hi!” you chirp when you part. “Glad you made it!” 

“This is a lot of people,” he says back, looking around your living room and kitchen a bit incredulously. “You said you guys do this every year?”

You nod seriously. “We bribe our neighbors. I mean, they’re all invited of course, but we also try to do something nice to make up for the one night of noise. Last year I baked cookies. This year we just went straight to cash.”

He laughs, and you lead him through the throng of people into the kitchen for a drink. 

“I’m glad you came,” you say again, as he stands before the open fridge, scanning beer bottle labels for something palatable. He sends you a smile over his shoulder, then picks a bottle and turns. You place the opener into his waiting hand.

“You look good tonight,” he tells you, all glinty, looking at you sideways. You pretend to preen.

“Sunny always looks good,” Jeonghan asserts, breezing in behind you holding a bowl full of chips. 

“Are you sharing those?” you demand. “You can’t gatekeep the good ones, Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this.”

“Gatekeep, girlboss, whatever the third one is!” he replies, zipping back out of the kitchen as quickly as he’d come. 

Out in the living room, you hear the familiar sound of the karaoke machine booting up. There’s a telltale scraping - the pong table being shoved against the far wall to make more room for jumping around while aiming for that perfect score. 

When you and Daeyoung make it into the living room again, Mingyu and one of the friends whose names you forgot are singing together. Mingyu’s all irony, eyes closed in mock passion as he clutches his mic with both hands, but his friend is actually good, voice sailing over the higher notes without error.

“Wow,” you say. “That guy can actually sing.”

One of your friends, a girl you lovingly call Ethel because of the style of grandma glasses she favors, stops in front of you, pushing little plastic shot glasses into your hands.

“Are you the boyfriend?” she asks Daeyoung, somewhat breathlessly. “I’ve been dying to actually meet you. She’s been keeping you a secret.”

“I have not!” you reply hotly, as Daeyoung laughs, introducing himself. 

“It’s nice to meet her other friends,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. 

“I know, it’s hard to separate her from these guys,” she says. “They deserve a sitcom.”

“I’m standing right here,” you protest. 

Jeonghan appears behind you, too close. “We have a little problem in the kitchen,” he whispers.

You excuse yourself, leaving Daeyoung with Ethel - who will hopefully say nothing too incriminating about you and Mingyu’s blurry-lined friendship. 

In the kitchen, Wonwoo is kneeling on the floor, his upper body hidden in the cupboard under the sink. When he shuffles back out, the front of his shirt is wet. You can see a bit of water starting to pool on the boards below the cleaning supplies.

“Uh oh,” you say.

Mingyu appears to your left, solid and warm against your arm. Then he crouches, peering under the sink. 

“Can I have someone’s phone?” he asks, and you pass him yours. He turns on the flashlight and shines it at the pipes. You watch his face do that thing - that calculating look, the problem-solving look. 

“It’s this one,” he says, pointing to something you can’t see under there. “Where’s our toolbox?”

“Great question,” Wonwoo says, mouth twisting as he tries to remember. “Laundry room?”

“I think so,” you say. “I think it’s on the shelf in there.”

Mingyu scoots out from under the sink and disappears into the little nook you all graciously call a laundry room, since it does have a functional door, then reappears with two tools in hand. You don’t know what they are - you’ve never needed to.

You and Jeonghan and Wonwoo stand around him, worried, like you’re waiting for a doctor to emerge through hospital doors to report on the status of a loved one. When Mingyu backs out of the cabinet again, it’s with an air of smugness. 

“All set,” he says, one side of his mouth quirking proudly. 

“Our hero,” Jeonghan deadpans.

“This is why we keep you around,” you tell him.

“Get the man a shot,” Jeonghan says, swiveling to the collection of bottles on the counter. 

Daeyoung finds you on the kitchen floor, using a rag to wipe up any bits of water. Wonwoo and Mingyu both disappeared to change into dry shirts, you think. 

“Everything okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you tell him, wiping one last spot and leaning up on your knees to look around for any areas you might have missed. The last thing you need is for someone to slip in here. “The sink broke. It’s okay now, Mingyu fixed it.”

“Well, thank god for Mingyu,” he says, and you look up at him, not sure if you’re imagining the edge in his voice. Are you? Did you project that?

“Well,” you say, “kind of! Because four of us live here, and only one person could solve the problem.”

He laughs reluctantly. “I can fix a sink,” he says, a bit of a pout in his voice.

You stand, returning the rag to the counter. “I’ll make sure to ask you first next time,” you say, leaning up to brush your lips teasingly across his. “I just thought the rent-payer should handle the problem before the guests.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he allows, smiling bigger. 

A while later, you find yourself in Wonwoo’s room, leaning against the wall watching somewhat absently as he and one of his friends play a POV shooter game, their brows furrowed in concentration and fingers flying on the controls. 

Daeyoung had been with you only moments ago, reporting into your ear on the game’s happening like a sports commentator to make you laugh, but he’d gone to get you each a new drink. Mingyu appears in his absence, and you can tell immediately that he’s sloppy.

“Sunny Baby,” he sings, draping an arm over your shoulders. 

You can’t help but smile, even as you try to shift out from under his arm. “Yes?” you sing back teasingly. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “You can stay just like this.” He wraps his other arm around you, and you laugh, pushing very gently at his chest.

“Mingyu,” you protest, laughing. “Get off me.”

“I will in one second,” he says, smiling cheekily. “You haven’t let me hug you in a hundred years, I have to take advantage now that your defenses are weakened by cheap vodka.”

“Mingyu!” you laugh again. 

And then you see Daeyoung in the doorway behind him, face unreadable. 

“Mingyu,” you say again, deadly serious now. “Let go.” 

Daeyoung slowly reaches to put the two beers on Wonwoo’s dresser and turns, wordlessly retreating down the hallway.

“Damn it, Mingyu,” you hiss, extracting yourself and hurrying to follow him. Daeyoung makes it clear outside and down the front steps before you catch him.

“Daeyoung, wait!” you call, and he finally slows, turning to face you. You jog to catch up, a bit breathless. You’ve had way too much to drink for this kind of confrontation, but you try to get your shit together enough to defend yourself. Or apologize. Or both.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrows and waits.

“Don’t -” you start, and then switch tracks quickly. “That was nothing. He’s like that when he’s had too much to drink. He’s just being silly.”

Daeyoung laughs once, sharp and sarcastic. “Don’t lie to me,” he says flatly. 

“I’m not!” you protest. “It’s true.”

He shakes his head, swipes his thumb across his phone screen and taps around. 

“Don’t leave,” you beg. “I’m sorry. I was trying to tell him to let go.”

He twists his mouth, refusing to look at you. At the far end of the street, you can see approaching headlights. He’s ordered a ride home. 

“When you said you were trying to get over someone I didn't pry,” he says flatly, “but I guess I should have. You could’ve had the decency to tell me that you live with him.”

The slam of the car door feels final, the sound passing over you like shrapnel. 

The blink of red taillights has just vanished around the corner when strong arms wrap around you. Mingyu must have followed, must have been watching from the door, must have seen it happen. 

You’ve been trying to make space, you’ve been trying to stay away, but you’re buzzed and you’re sad and you’re weak. So, you turn in his arms, burying your face in his shirt and letting yourself cry. 

He holds you through it, doesn’t say anything to you, just holds on tight until you can breathe again. 

“I don’t want you to see this,” you sniffle finally, and he lets his arms drop, stepping back so he can look at you. “This shouldn’t be you.”

“That’s fair,” he murmurs, sounding much more sober than he had inside. “But I’m the one who’s here. Tell me you want me to go, and I will.”

Your heart cracks. 

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper. 

“Okay,” he says, wrapping you up again, leaning his chin on the top of your head and swaying you a little bit. “Then I won’t.”

Eventually, you both lay in the grass. You don’t want to go inside, and Mingyu says he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the front yard. Instead, you lay side by side, far enough away that you’d have to stretch to touch. It feels like that night in undergrad, but also completely opposite. In your memories of that night, you felt warm and good like your place in the universe was guaranteed, your cog in the great machine fitting perfectly and spinning without difficulty. Tonight, you feel off, cold and angry, like your piece has been displaced and can’t fit anywhere anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says, breaking the silence. “I didn’t mean to make problems for you guys.”

“I know you didn’t,” you allow. 

“It was just us being us,” he says, a bit defensively.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I think that was the problem.”

He has nothing to say to that. 

Daeyoung calls you, much later, when you’re back inside and tucked in your bed. 

“Were you sleeping?” he asks.

“Of course not,” you say. “I’m lying awake agonizing over you storming out on me.”

He laughs quietly, and you feel hope bloom behind your ribs. Is this salvageable?

“I might have overreacted,” he admits. “It’s easy to be intimidated by that guy.”

That guy again. What is it with these two? 

“You shouldn’t be,” you tell him. “He’s an idiot.”

Daeyoung laughs again. “So am I,” he says.

“You don’t need to worry about him,” you say. “I’ve been really trying to adjust the boundaries of our friendship, and it’s a big change from how we used to be. Usually we do better… Like I said earlier, he was drunk. He just forgot himself, went back to how things used to be.”

Daeyoung is quiet for a second. “I should have let you explain yourself before I left,” he says evenly.

“I’m sorry I put you in that position in the first place,” you counter. “I didn’t mean to. I’m in this with you, Daeyoung. I promise.”

“I know,” he admits. “I know you are.”

You smile into the phone. “Our first fight.”

He laughs again. “Hopefully not one of many.”

“Eh,” you say. “It’s normal. Anyway, I’m glad you called. I would have been a mess waiting to hear from you. Might have embarrassed myself blowing your phone up.”

“Maybe I should have let you embarrass yourself,” he teases. 

“It’s like that, huh?” you joke.

“Yes,” he sniffs. “Until I feel better.”

When you finally hang up, you creep through the apartment to pee before trying to sleep. You notice Mingyu’s light is on, though his door is shut. You pause, looking at that sliver of light, and then continue on back to your own bed. 

–

July

“Move over!” you giggle, using your hips to scoot Daeyoung out of your way, a wooden spoon in your hand. The simmering stew on the stovetop smells delectable, and you give it a stir, make sure nothing is stuck to the bottom of the pot. 

“Ask nicely!” he retorts, but he’s smiling. 

Mingyu watches the scene covertly from the couch, trying to keep his face neutral, trying to keep his face tilted towards the tv so he doesn’t get caught watching. Or worse, caught sulking.

You and Daeyoung eat and wash up most of what you used to cook, offer the leftovers to anyone around to hear you (so, just Mingyu), and then leave, giggles and flirting dissipating and leaving Mingyu in a quiet that he absolutely can’t stand. 

When you return the next day, trying to look nonchalant with your overnight bag clutched in your hands, Mingyu is at the kitchen table, eating some of the leftovers and watching videos on his phone. 

“Hey,” he greets you, pausing the video.

You give your overnight bag a light toss; it lands with a thump over near the couch. “Hey yourself,” you say, heading into the kitchen for a drink. “The food’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “Your man can cook, huh?”

“Hey!” you object. “I did most of the work!”

“Hmm,” he says, rising and coming into the kitchen to rinse his plate. 

You cross your arms, eyes narrowing. “Hmmm what?”

He shrugs teasingly. “We’ve lived together a long time, Sunny. I have a hard time believing you’re the chef in that relationship. You never helped me cook anything.”

Your eyes narrow even more. “You never asked me to,” you retort, suddenly defensive. “There’s a lot of things I do with Daeyoung because you never asked me to.”

Silence falls on the kitchen like a rockslide. 

Mingyu takes one very careful step backwards. “Because I never asked you to?” he echoes, his voice shaking just slightly.

Your pulse races, and you fight a wave of nausea. A Freudian slip if there ever was one. 

“That you never asked me to,” you amend firmly.

Mingyu hesitates. Then, “I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

That defensiveness moves inside you like a thing alive, your temper flaring in an effort to protect you. 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, suddenly pissed. 

Mingyu doesn’t rise to the bait, doesn’t match your temper at all. Calm and steady, he says, “So then you tell me. How do you feel, Sunny?”

That rockslide hits you. You can’t breathe, too bruised by the onslaught. All the years of secrets and feelings and broken rules and truths that you knew but pretended not to spill around you, impossible to escape.

“You don’t get to ask me that,” you hiss at him. “Not now. That’s not fair.”

His calm cracks, just slightly, his tone going hard. “What are you talking about?”

“Why now, Mingyu?” you demand. “Why now, when I have someone? Why not any of the years before now, when I was only yours?” 

You’re breathing hard, having spat the words like they’re venom, and you wait him out. He blusters, splutters, has nothing to say to this.

Your temper pulls you like a wave, a momentum you can’t fight.

“You don’t know the answer?” you ask sarcastically. “That’s fine - I can tell you: because you had me. You had me, and you didn’t need to share me, and you could still do whatever - or whoever! - you wanted and I’d still fucking be here afterward.”

You know exactly the moment you start crying through the words, because Mingyu’s body jolts, like he instinctively moved to touch you but remembered to stay back.

“And now?” you continue, because you’re on a roll, everything you’ve held in for years finally bursting from you with the fury of a cracked dam. “Now that’s changed. So, what is it? You want your toy back now that someone else is playing with it?”

“Of course not-”

“Fuck you, Mingyu! You sat me on the shelf for too long. I don’t deserve that.”

“Sunny, no,” he tries again. “It isn’t like that. I lo-”

“Yes, it is!” you shout. You’ve never shouted at him in your life, and it actually shuts him up. Tears are still streaming down your face, but you ignore them. “It is, and until you see that, I can’t expect you to change it or fix it.”

You start to storm past him, but you whirl on him, a finger pointed in his direction. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you love me!” you add furiously. “No you don’t. Not the right way, not like this.”

And then you slam out of the apartment, barely remembering to grab your keys off the hook as you go.

–

[5:22pm] You: if i send you a list of what i need, can you please put a bag together for me and leave it in the hall

[5:22pm] (jeong)Han Solo: :( sunny

[5:22pm] You: hannie please??? i can’t go inside. i really can’t.

[5:23pm] (jeong)Han Solo: he’s a fucking wreck 

[5:23pm] You: i don’t care

[5:24pm] You: i mean of course i fucking care that’s the whole problem

[5:24pm] You: please? my things?

–

August

August 3

[10:02am] Mingyu: sunny please talk to me

[12:17pm] Mingyu: please let me apologize to you

[12:17pm] Mingyu: i dont want to do it over text but you wont answer my calls and no one seems to know where you are

[12:22pm] Mingyu: you were right. about all of it.

[12:22pm] Mingyu: and you were right that you dont deserve it

[12:22pm] Mingyu: please call me back or come home so i can say this to your face

[5:38pm] Mingyu: there’s one part you were wrong about

[5:38pm] Mingyu: i do love you. the right way. maybe it took losing you to someone to get my ass moving but i loved you way before he was in the picture

[5:38pm] Mingyu: dont ever question that again

[11:04pm] Mingyu: god, sunny, answer your phone!

August 4

[7:43am] Mingyu: you’re killing me

[7:43am] Mingyu: are you happy sunshine???? KILLING ME!!!

[1:36pm] Mingyu: come home

[1:36pm] Mingyu: please

[8:02pm] Mingyu: we HAVE to talk about this, sunny

[11:51pm] Mingyu: i’m not going to give up

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: are you staying with daeyoung for a while?

[10:23am] You: no. my mom’s. 

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: ok. im glad you’re with someone who can care for you.

[10:23am] (jeong)Han Solo: we miss you :(

August 5

[8:00am] Mingyu: fine, i’ll say everything over text like an asshole

[8:00am] Mingyu: just know you made me do this!

[8:04am] Mingyu: i fell in love with you in undergrad when you had to take that statistics class that you almost failed. when you saw your midterm score was passing you told me i love you for the first time and i swear to god i almost proposed to you right there. And it never went away. It was never less.

[8:08am] Mingyu: i love you because you wield your attitude like both sword and shield. I love you because you can barely count but you make me feel so stupid sometimes with how clever you are. I love you because you’re beautiful and funny and empathetic and you make me want to be better than i am. I want to be more competent for you, to be able to take care of you and provide for you when you need it. I love you because when i’m sick you take care of me and you let me take care of you when you’re down too. I love you because when i’m with you i feel like someone’s GOT me, someone understands me and has my back. 

[8:09am] Mingyu: i cant believe youre making me say this all in TEXT i hate this!

[8:10am] Mingyu: i have more. I have a hundred more reasons. 

[8:10am] Mingyu: come home so i can tell you

[11:58pm] Mingyu: goodnight sunny baby. Please come home soon.

You show up to Daeyoung’s unannounced. His face is grim when he opens the door; you haven’t answered his calls or texts in a few days, either. He probably knows what this is. 

“Hi,” he says, stepping backwards to make room for you in his doorway. “This is a surprise.”

“I’m sorry I vanished,” you tell him. “Something happened. I’ve been at my mom’s.”

He eyes you warily, like he’s not sure if this is a I got in a car accident kind of something, or a I cheated on you kind of something, and he doesn’t want to react for the wrong one. “Okay…” he says slowly.

“Daeyoung,” you say, after taking a breath to steel yourself, “I care about you, and I like you, and I have real feelings for you.” 

“I sense a but,” he says dryly. 

You smile sadly. “But I dont think this is fair to you. I shouldn’t be with someone - anyone - until I’m over him or he’s out of my life… and I can’t seem to make either of those things happen.” You don’t need to say which him. You both know. “I wanted to. I wanted to do it right and I thought I was… but I was wrong.” 

He shrugs, face blank. “Okay.” 

“Daeyoung.” 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, frustration seeping into his tone. “I can't argue with any of that. I can’t change it for you. I can’t be better than him, I can't become him. You’re right, you shouldn’t be with someone else if what you really want is that guy.”

That guy. Again.

“You’re right,” you whisper, looking at your feet.

He lets out a breath. “So, it’s done then?”

You nod miserably. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Daeyoung. I hope someday you can believe that this isn’t how I wanted it to go. You deserve better.”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t let you go out with any optimism. You and your misery trudge back to your mother’s, fall asleep in your childhood bed.

August 6

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: i have more things to say today

[8:00am] Mingyu: i will give you two 2️⃣ minutes to respond or you get it all thru text AGAIN

[8:00am] Mingyu: and you know how i feel about that.

[8:03am] Mingyu: fine.

[8:03am] Mingyu: you’ve always been so fucking stubborn sunny. just let me apologize to you!

[8:05am] Mingyu: i’m sorry i kept you on hold

[8:05am] Mingyu: you’re right. that’s what was happening. but i didn’t MEAN it like that.

[8:05am] Mingyu: idk if you believe me bc i can’t see your face 🙄

[8:06am] Mingyu: but its true. I just… liked how things were. Youre right… i counted on you always being there waiting for me. 

[8:06am] Mingyu: i thought it was okay though… i thought if you wanted it to change you had the power to change it

[8:07am] Mingyu: like, you could have said something to me.

[8:07am] Mingyu: and i dont mean that like its your fault or anything, it was just how i rationalized it to myself. Like if you werent complaining then it must be fine?

[8:09am] Mingyu: i’m an idiot

[8:14am] Mingyu: but i’m an idiot who loves you, and misses you, and wants to do better

[11:59pm] Mingyu: please come home

[12:32pm] You: i broke up with him.

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: are you okay???

[12:32pm] (jeong)Han Solo: come home so we can take care of you!!

[12:58pm] You: i cant face him. not yet. im not ready

August 7

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: i’m sorry i took you for granted. even if we walk out of this only trying to repair the friendship, i swear i’ll never let it happen again.

[11:58pm] Mingyu: goodnight sunshine. I love you.

August 8

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny ☀️

[8:00am] Mingyu: dont work too hard today

[8:00am] Mingyu: dont take any shit from marcus in accounting

[12:12pm] Mingyu: having lunch. call me if you want? it doesnt have to be heavy. Just hello.

[12:39pm] Mingyu: i need you back sunny. in whatever capacity youll let me have.

[11:57pm] Mingyu: hope you had a good day. Goodnight, i love you.

August 9

[8:00am] Mingyu: good morning sunny

[11:58pm] Mingyu: please. Please come home.

–

When you return home, a week after you left, it’s nearly dawn, the light from outside the living room just turning blue enough that you can see the outlines of the couches as you close the door as quietly as you can.

You step lightly, avoiding the spots you know will creak and groan when you step over them. You peer down the hallway to see that the guys’ doors are all shut, no lights on - not even the blues of Wonwoo’s computer monitor. 

You open your door and look around; your room looks exactly how you left it, down to the glass of water on the nightstand, now nearly empty. Except… the blankets on the bed are wrong. You set your bag down gently next to your dresser and creep closer, squinting through the dimly lit room.

A dark head of hair peeks out from under your comforter.

You can’t help it - you smile to yourself. For all the things Mingyu is - intelligent, funny, athletic, competent - he’s also a big baby. And he’s sleeping in your bed, because he misses you, and it comforts him.

It makes you want to forgive him for every wrong, press your lips to his sleepy forehead, listen to him lisp out Sunny Baby. 

He hurt you, it’s true. But you believe it that he was lying to himself, pretending things were fine. Weren’t you doing the exact same thing? You can’t hope Daeyoung will forgive you for your mistakes if you aren’t willing to do the same, too. 

You close your bedroom door and approach your bed. Mingyu stirs, making cricket legs under the blanket and stretching one arm towards the empty side. Towards you, though he doesn’t know it yet.

Then he freezes. His voice comes out paper thin. “Sunny?” he asks, pushing himself to sitting.

“This is not your bed,” you tell him, and he launches himself across the mattress, scrambling to reach you.

You allow him to wrap his gangly arms around your middle, pulling you to him as apologies pour over his lips so fast that he’s nearly babbling.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pushing at his shoulders. You back away and he follows like he’s tethered to you, clambering from the bed and standing before you.

For a moment, you just stare at each other through the thick blue of encroaching dawn.

And then he says your name.

Not Sunny. Not Sunny Baby. Your real name.

“I am so sorry - for everything,” he says, the ache in his voice clear and open. Then he drops his voice to a pained whisper. “Please. Tell me I can fix it.”

You press your lips together, looking at him. He looks awful - like he hasn’t slept much, or been eating well. You feel a little bad that you stayed away for so long, but you’d needed the time by yourself. You’d needed the clarity of being alone to figure out what you want.

“I think we can,” you whisper back, since the rest of the apartment is still sleeping. We, because this was on both of you. 

He crushes you in a hug, surrounding you in the smell of cinnamon, his cheek pressed to your head. “I’m sorry,” he breathes into your hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please let me try and do better.”

“I broke up with Daeyoung,” you respond, and he snaps his mouth shut, stepping backwards to stare at you. 

“Why?” he asks finally, hoarse, like he can barely get the word out. 

You look up at him. “Because it wasn’t right to be with him. It wasn’t right to be with him when I’ve been in love with someone else the whole time.”

He closes his eyes, his whole body seeming to sag. 

“I forgive you,” you say quietly, “and I do believe that things will be better now. If we talk about it - if we’re working together to make it better.”

“Yes,” he says quickly, desperately. “I will - I’ll do whatever I need to -”

“Both of us,” you say again, emphatically. “You were right, this wasn’t just your fault. I let this go on for… years. I counted marks against you but I never once spoke up.”

“No,” he protests, shaking his head. “It was my fault, Sunny, I took it for granted and I should have been loving you, spoiling you -”

You laugh. “I mean, maybe,” you say. “But if I’d talked to you… maybe you would have been.”

“I want to now,” he says. “Can I? Will you let me?”

You smile up at him, and he grins back, taking your smile as an answer.

You reach up and touch his eye-tooth gently with a fingertip. “Your stupid fang is so fucking cute,” you whisper. “It is truly unfair how cute it is.”

He pretends to scowl at you. “We’re having a serious moment, here, Sunshine.”

You smile again, gentler this time. “I love you,” you tell him. “If you want to prove you can do this right… then I’m all in.”

He whispers your name again, then looks at you.

His eyes are molten again, the way they were the night you’d had your only kiss. It’s almost hypnotizing, the strength of his gaze on you, pulling you in wordlessly until your body is flush with his. You look up at him, breathless. 

“I’ll start proving it now,” he murmurs, so low you barely catch it, and then his mouth snags on yours, forceful, his hands cupping your jaw gently, a juxtaposition.

He touches you so tenderly, his fingers feather-light against the skin they uncover as you undress each other in hushed silence. It feels holy, somehow. 

He licks spices and heat into your mouth, trails calloused fingers down your bare arms, pulls your hips into his as his teeth trace down your jaw, makes sure you feel his want for you.

You slide your hands from his waist up his stomach and over his pecs, revelling in how he hisses and leans into the touch. 

“Wanted to do this for years,” he grumbles, like he’s complaining, before lowering his lips to your chest, sucking on supple skin to see how you like it, then doing it harder when you dig your fingers into his shoulders, gasping at the sensation.

“Should’ve,” you scold, even as your eyes close and your head tilts back. “Could’ve been.”

But you aren’t thinking about your wasted time when he kneads both hands in the meat of your ass, or when you slide a flat palm up the length of him, delighting in the weight and heat you find straining against his Calvins. You’re thinking about how his hands are searing, about how you want to taste him but maybe not yet, not this first time. You’re thinking about his fingers sliding between your legs and the belly-deep rumble he makes when he feels how ready you are for him.

And when you finally come together, his mouth pressed to yours as he lays you back on the bed you’ve shared countless times, you’re only thinking about him and his beautiful smile and molten eyes and infectious laugh and empathetic heart. When he’s pushed as far into you as your bodies will allow, his hips tight against you and a whine slipping between his lips, you’re overcome with emotion. As you adjust to him, his eyes trace your face, and he reads what’s there with perfect clarity.

“Love you, Sunny Baby,” he whispers into the crook of your neck. 

You swallow against the thick rise of feelings and run your fingers through his hair. “Move for me,” you beg. And when he does, it’s just as perfect as the rest of him. 

You press your forehead to his when you come, his thumb rough on your clit and his mouth gasping broken breaths against your lips, pulsing around him in waves so dizzying you think they trigger even more. His hair sticks to his forehead as he presses deep inside you, and he shelters you between mountainous arms as he finally lets go.

Mingyu is sunrise, leaking orange and pink and yellow and white and chasing away a world of purples and blues. He’s so bright you have to squint, a promise of a fresh start, an end to the darkness of night. 

He’s perfect. He’s perfect, and you love him, and finally you can have him. 

You lay in his arms, heartbeat slowing bit by bit, and feel wholly at peace - like everything finally settled into place, everything landed exactly as it was meant to. Your cog in the universe, spinning correctly at last, grooves fitted perfectly to Kim Mingyu’s. 

The peace lasts…. until you check your phone. 

[8:26am] (jeong)Han Solo: when you two are DONE…. we went out for breakfast if you want to join 🙄

—

November

“Baby,” Mingyu says, but it’s stern. “Quit fixing the pillows.”

“It has to be perfect in here!” you whine. 

Mingyu wraps his arms around you like a cage, squeezing until you’re laughing too hard and drop the throw pillow from your hand.

“They lived with us for years,” he says, entirely too rationally. “You can’t fool them.” 

He releases his hold on you so you can turn and pout at him. You’re about to protest - argue that it’s Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s first time visiting you and Mingyu’s new place, that this is momentous, a special occasion - but you’re cut off by an obnoxiously outlandish knock on the front door. 

“I’ve got it,” Mingyu tells you. “You just try to relax.” 

You will, in just a second. But first, you lean over to the candle you have burning on the coffee table and adjust it just slightly to center the label, which reads Fall Harvest and Cinnamon.

--

thank you so much for reading!!!!

[devixncy]

Hey! I’ve got a heavy hurt/comfort request here that is pretty angsty, so if it’s too much please just ignore this.

Anyway if you’re comfortable could I request a Thanos x reader (no games AU) where is read of the recruiter finding him in the bridge, the reader does? Maybe they were good friends before his career fell apart.

I just wanted to hug him so bad when he was telling his backstory to Minsu 😭 and I can in fic form

a/n: i wrote this one so fast. ty for this request (hopefully i did it justice)

✧ pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

✧ summary: you come face to face with your best friend on the bridge instead of the recruiter

✧ content: heavy themes (suicidal ideation, thanos at the bridge as mentioned in squid game), angst, no games AU, swearing, some comfort at the end bc that's how i roll

✧ word count: 2.3k

‘Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. The person you’re trying to reach is not available. At the tone, please record your mess-’

Your thumb hit the end call button, letting out a sigh of frustration. You weren’t sure why you kept trying, maybe it was because you always held out hope and your heart didn’t want to give up. At this point, your name had probably flashed across what used to be your best friend's screen hundreds of times–only to never receive a response. 

Su-bong’s radio silence worried you to no end. The two of you had been inseparable once, from pre-teens all the way into early adulthood. He was your best friend, your partner in crime. You helped each other through heartbreak, you consoled him when no one else understood what he was going through at home. You had shared countless late night talks, discussing quite literally anything you could think of because there were no secrets between you. Unfortunately, you hadn’t realized how much of a crush you had developed on him until it was too late.

When he began his rapping career, you were nothing but supportive. He was following his dream, wanting to make a name for himself under the alias ‘Thanos’. You always reposted his music on social media to help promote it, and always went to his shows once he began performing at small venues and clubs. As always, rising to fame didn’t come without consequences. It started with small, miniscule things that you brushed off as nothing at first. He started to take longer to answer your texts; what used to take seconds would now take him almost a full day until he was basically ghosting you. He began to “forget” to tell you when his shows were scheduled, disappointing you to no end because you wanted to be there for him.

Then, there was the night he showed up at your apartment, stumbling and pupils blown so wide you almost couldn’t see the blue of his eyes anymore. He was high out of his mind, coming to your door to beg for money so that he could pay back some of whatever debt he had accumulated. Your heart broke when you had to kick him out without sparing anything, as you had very little money to spare yourself. He was erratic and loud, and you couldn’t have him in your apartment that late in the state he was in. You had cried that night, seeing what was happening to your best friend.

After that night, you hadn’t heard from Su-bong again. Your desperate attempts to contact him were futile, you never received a response. It left you angry and defeated, wondering what you had done wrong. You missed him dearly, and it had been almost a full year since you’d spoken. 

A pebble went scattering across the concrete as you kicked it, lost in thought while you walked. It was getting late, the sun disappearing behind the horizon as the stars began to brighten the dark sky. You shoved your hands in your pockets, a shiver running down your spine as the cold air nipped at you. You wandered aimlessly, having no real destination–yet it was another reminder of Su-bong. Walks to clear your minds was something you both did together often, and now it was just you. He used to boast about how he would protect you and that no one would bother you if you were with him, not that anybody ever did. 

Something wet landing on the tip of your nose broke you out of your thoughts yet again, causing you to tilt your head up and look into the sky. The light patter of rain began to hit your face, starting as a sprinkle and gradually turning into a steady rainfall. Great. You grumbled, knowing you still had a while to walk and no umbrella. Pulling up your hood, your feet carried you in the direction of your apartment. Eventually, you began to approach the bridge that you had crossed not too long ago, signaling you weren’t very far now. A sigh of relief began to escape your lips, no longer wanting to be out in this weather as you were already soaked. However, whatever air you had in your lungs was immediately sucked out, leaving you frozen in shock. A figure was standing eerily still by the rails of the side of the bridge, their grip on the steel bar tight. 

You had no idea what to do in this situation. Your heart sped up, thumping against your rib cage. Your eyes diverted from the figure to the unforgiving river below, the dark water angry as rain beat down against it. Its currents roared, jagged rocks lurking beneath the churning surface. Your stomach twisted, hoping this wasn’t what you thought it was. Taking a deep breath, you began to move slowly and silently. You knew the person couldn’t hear you and you hoped they wouldn’t see you from their peripheral vision even though they had their hood up. Creeping closer, you almost had a heart attack as they suddenly hopped up onto the rail, swinging their legs around so that they were sitting facing the water. Moving quicker now, you were merely feet away.

Deep breaths. You had to act quickly. The glow of the city in the distance seemed dampened by the rain, and time seemingly slowed down. You took another slow step forward, not too fast or eager. The figure’s hands clenched tightly against the railing, knuckles turning white. Their breath came in shuddering bursts, visible in the coldness of the night. 

“You don’t want this.” Your gentle voice carried through the wind. 

They flinched at the sound of your voice, but didn’t turn around. 

“I know it feels like there’s nothing left. I know it feels hopeless, like the weight of the world is crushing you,” you continued. “But I promise this is not the way. Not like this. There is someone out there who cares about you, who would be devastated if you made this choice.”

They shivered. Whether it was from your words or from the chill in the air, you weren’t sure. You took another small step forward.

“Please,” you whispered. “You’re not alone. Please come down and let me help you.” 

For a moment, time paused. The silence was loud, and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. 

And then–slowly, cautiously–they turned.

And you felt as if somebody had punched you in the gut, all of the air sucked out of your lungs in an instant. The weight of a million tons felt as if it were crushing your body. The world blurred at its edges, sounds turning distant as if everything was underwater.

Su-bong, your Su-bong, was staring back at you. His cheeks were tear-streaked, noticeable even in the pouring rain. His eyes were distant, hollow–though you could clearly see the blue in his irises, meaning he wasn’t high at the moment. He showed no emotion in his face, something you weren’t used to seeing. 

“Su-bong…” You whispered, and it came out strangled, like somebody was squeezing your lungs. You stood there with your arm slightly outstretched, lips parted in shock. He stared back at you, unmoving, no words coming out of his mouth. The tremors began, your fingers shaking uncontrollably as the weight of the truth settled in like ice. Your best friend, the person you loved the most, was about to kill himself. 

“You shouldn’t be here, (Y/N).” His voice was strained, raw, like he had been screaming. It was devoid of emotion, but his eyes told a different story. There was conflict flickering in them, maybe uncertainty, you couldn’t tell. 

Your knees nearly gave out as he turned back around, seemingly having his mind made up whether you were there or not. Panic set in, adrenaline coursing through your veins like fire as you lurched forward, although stopping yourself before you made a dumb decision.

“Su-bong, please! Please don’t do this, don’t you dare,” You cried, your breaths coming in short gasps as desperation clawed at you. Logic went out the window, your mouth was moving faster than your brain. “I love you, please don’t do this. I need you here.” 

He didn’t say anything. But mere seconds later, his shoulders began to shake violently. You began to hear sobs escape from the man in front of you, tearing your heart into a million pieces. And after a long, excruciating moment that seemed to stretch on forever, he slowly turned back around. Your hand, although violently trembling, was outstretched towards him. “Please come down.” You tried once more, barely audible over the unrelenting rain. Your eyes betrayed you, his outline blurring as they were swimming with tears that wouldn’t stop coming. 

But you felt his touch, his hand hesitantly grabbing yours. Slowly, but surely he swung his legs back around until he was facing you instead of the water below. As soon as he was facing you, you yanked him towards you with all of the strength you had left. His body collided with yours, and like something awakened in him, he threw his arms around you. His grip was tight, crushing–but you paid no mind, your arms finding their way around his back and clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie so tight he might fly away if you let go. He sobbed, his head dropping onto your shoulder. His knees buckled and you followed suit, lowering the two of you onto the ground. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), god I’m so fucking sorry,” He cried. You didn’t respond, you couldn’t find words. Your chest was heaving, emotions all over the place. You just rocked him gently, quiet hiccups coming out of your mouth as you tried to grapple with reality. “I thought your life, and everyone else's, would be better off without me in it. I’m so sorry, I-I wasn’t thinking, I’m just such a fuck up-”

You cut him off, leaning back so that you could grab his face. “Do NOT say that to me, ever! You are one of the most important pieces of my life, you always have been and that has never changed. My life got better the day you came into it. Even if you feel like you have nothing else, you have me. You always have,” You took a deep breath as he rested his forehead against yours, shame written all over his face. “I love you so much, whether you know it or not. But the point is, I will always be here for you. Through the good and the bad.” 

Su-bong closed his eyes, tears still running down his face. The rain chilled the both of you to the bone, soaking through every inch of your clothing. You wiped his tears, holding him close. 

“I want to get out of here. Please, let’s go anywhere but here.” He finally whispered. You nodded, not saying a word as you slowly helped him to his feet. You kept an arm wrapped around his waist, helping him keep upright as you walked as he was unsteady on his feet. He was exhausted–emotionally, physically, and mentally. 

No words were exchanged as you brought him into your apartment. You led him into your small bathroom, sitting him on the edge of your bathtub. Grabbing multiple towels, you stood in front of him between his legs. His trembling hands didn’t go unnoticed by you, your chest aching as you looked at him. He looked distant, but was watching you. You offered him a small smile, one that was filled with warmth and familiarity. With gentle hands, you began to towel dry his soaking wet hair, bringing back some of the vibrant purple as it no longer stuck to his forehead. You had him strip out of his wet clothes, bringing him some spare of his that had been left at your apartment from long ago. Making sure he was dry and comfortable was your number one priority at the moment. 

“You’re still soaking wet.” He murmured as you were hanging the towels up to dry, making you pause. You turned, frowning as that was the first thing he’d said in a while. 

“No, you’re not worrying about me right now.” You said sternly, dropping your hands to your sides. He grabbed one of your hands, pulling you towards him. You stopped in between his legs and he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into your stomach. Your hand instinctively came up to his hair, running through it like you had done many times before. After a couple of moments, he lifted his head, chin now resting on your stomach as he looked up at you. 

“Thank you,” He said softly, vulnerability shining in his eyes. “For everything. I owe you my life. I promise that I’m going to get help. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” He whispered as you cupped his cheek. 

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, my love. Anything you need, I’m here. You’ll always have a home here.” You replied sincerely, your heart hurting for the man in front of you. 

“I know. I don’t know why I didn’t come home sooner.” He whispered, and the back of your eyes stung.

You went to bed that night with hope for the future, holding Su-bong close and him holding onto you all night like a lifeline. You didn’t know what exactly he had gone through in the time you were apart, but none of that mattered now. All you wanted was to protect him from his demons, and you so badly hoped that he would let you in. It would take time, but there was nothing more you wanted than to help him heal. 

[heesngirl]

Preview : Heeseung and you happened to end up staying at the same hotel, and given the circumstances, the time without seeing each other, and the emotions of the moment, your intention was to finally make love, but in the middle of foreplay, you were interrupted.

— Heeseung x MC reader. Established relationship, light smut, mention of confidentiality contract (just a joke from the protagonist), pussy eating, face sitting, body worship, emotional and intimate connection. MDNI

Count : 6K

Note : This would be the prequel to "Be Continued". Only the third part remains to be published, which is Heeseung getting a blowjob.

It was enough to get into the back seat of the car for you to finally collapse just as you had been longing for. Whoever dared to say that your job was not hard at all was definitely nothing more than an ignorant, ill-informed person. Although, you also had to take into account the fact that when they invited you to participate in this event, they made it very clear that you would only cover a certain amount of time; however, a certain girl who was going to take over for you in the end could never arrive and did not notify you until the last moment.

You understood that her job was just as demanding or even more demanding than yours, but you mentally reproached her for having offered to participate, and not taking into consideration the fact that her current acting project could take more time than she planned. Later you would have the opportunity to personally unload on her.

For now you had to deal with your energy drop, since at that point you were more tired than a person; Your social battery was exhausted almost at the end of the day, so you were counting the hours to get out of there and go lie down in your hotel bed.

Although, now lying in the backseat of the vehicle you were tempted to sleep, at least during the minutes that would pass on the way to the hotel.

— Hey! Hey! Hey! Don't even think about falling asleep now. Let me remind you that you have an empty stomach and you should eat something first. So you better wait until we get there. — Joo Han scolds, observing your almost unconscious being through the rearview mirror.

— Oppa~ I'm dying, my little feet hurt like hell and I swear I'm more over there than over here, sleep is overcoming me — your protests sound strangled due to the way your cheek is crushed against your arm, and also because you could barely speak. You weren't lying, you were about to fall deeply asleep. — I don't think I can hold out until we get there, let me get some sleep please~ — you say, putting some emphasis on the last two letters.

Being aware of how noticeably exhausted you looked, Joo Han had no other choice but to let you sleep as you begged so much. It was obvious that he would end up giving in.

— Okay, you win, miss. You can sleep for a while, but I don't want to hear you complaining later when I have to interrupt your rest because we arrived at our destination. — he warns with supposed severity, but both of you knew that as soon as you arrived he would let you sleep a little longer before waking you up to get out of the car.

After having received the green light from your esteemed manager, you settle as much as you can in the seat and prepare to fall asleep. Unfortunately, you don't manage it.

At the exact moment you're about to fall asleep, your cell phone ringtone resounds, the sudden noise causing you to jump in place and abandon the task of going to dreamland.

A string of profanities was about to come out of your mouth, each and every one dedicated especially to whoever dared to bother you at that moment. However, all the bad mood along with the sleep and tiredness went to hell in a matter of seconds, and all after having read the name of the sender who requested to have a facetime with you.

— Oh god, my girl is so gorgeous — is the first thing you hear him say as soon as you agree to start the video call. Heeseung looks radiant from the other side of the screen smiling only for and at you. There was no way you could be upset with him, and even less so after hearing that. — How have you been, babe? I'm sorry for not contacting you sooner, but the concert hasn't been over for long and now we're heading to the hotel to rest. — although you were probably aware of it, he still took the trouble to explain since it didn't leave you any material to overthink.

Well, the truth is that since early in the morning you had been leaving him messages hoping that he would read them at some point, something he couldn't do because he was so busy with his responsibilities.

The concert he mentioned was the same one you had planned to sneak into incognito once you were free, but as mentioned before, the lack of organization and time of Jake's actress girlfriend as special guest and second MC in command, did nothing but disrupt and frustrate your plans.

Obviously, Heeseung didn't have that detail in mind, because you assured him that your itinerary didn't even leave a small space to go see him. Your karma for lying to your boyfriend, who was dying to see you in person after what would be two months.

— Hee, you don't have to give me explanations, I understand and take into account your reasons. — you answer simultaneously, getting up so you can give your beloved boy a close-up view of your face. You can notice how he stares at you in a daze for a few seconds. — I had been looking forward to attending the concert. I was right and I was going to surprise you by sneaking into the audience. But, it turns out that Jake’s boo seems to have an altered perception of time and he miscalculated, his recordings were extended and she couldn’t show up at the event. In the end I couldn’t get a replacement and I had to extend my day. — you confess with weariness and a frown, causing Heeseung to laugh at the seriousness with which you approached your tantrum.

— It’s a shame you couldn’t come to the concert. But leaving that aside, wasn’t it too exhausting for you? — the boy was aware of how precarious your social battery was, and even more so after a long day.

— Yes, yes it was. In fact, I was about to fall asleep, but your call came in and well, you know I just couldn't ignore it even if I'm dying — you confess, your boyfriend on the other side of the screen smiles, moved by the honesty of your words and by having that kind of privilege on your part. — Most likely, once I get to the hotel, I'll just have to get in touch with the bed to fall into a coma until the next day. — both laugh at that last comment, because they knew you were very serious.

— You don't deserve less, baby. Make sure you rest well. Just don't even think about going to sleep on an empty stomach — you perceive the severe tone in his voice and you do nothing but look at him ironically. — Don't look at me like that, the last time we slept together you made me get up in the middle of the night because you were hungry and then you had a hard time falling asleep again. I'm worried that you don't sleep your hours straight or that you skip meals. — he had a point in his favor that was simply difficult for you to refute, so you had no choice but to accept it.

— I'll make sure to have dinner before I go to bed. Don't worry too much now, besides, you should eat well and rest too — you remind him back. You're about to add something else but from the driver's seat Joo Han signals you to end the call. — Baby, I have to leave you. It seems it's time for me to get out of the car. I'll talk to you before I go to sleep.

— It's okay, baby girl, in fact, it's time for us to get out now too — you found that kind of coincidence a little strange, but you chose not to give it importance. — I love you, we'll talk later. — and without anything else to say he cut off the video call.

You put away your cell phone and took the bag you were carrying with you. You saw Joo Han get out first so he could go around the vehicle and open the door for you.

As soon as you got out of the car you noticed the slight gathering of people lying at a certain distance from the facilities; something quite strange in your opinion, since information about where you would stay during your stays outside of Korea was never leaked. Even stranger was how suddenly that small crowd seemed to get upset.

As much as your fame was rising, you found it impossible to believe that their uproar was due to your presence.

— That's how small the world is. — Joo Han's voice resonates behind you and you immediately

turn to face him, but he seems to be looking at something or rather someone who is beyond where you both lie standing.

You look away in the direction where your manager has his eyes fixed, and just that action is enough for you to understand the meaning behind his previous words.

You are perplexed, and the boy on the other end is no better than you, since he also seems to not finish processing what is happening at that precise moment. Both of you are there, looking at each other carefully, trying to make sure that what your respective eyes see is nothing more than reality.

Your minds connect… you feel your surroundings stop and suddenly it's just you two in the world, in the same place and time. If it weren't for the people who were hanging around those same places, you would have surely run towards him and even jumped into his arms. At that moment you thanked the universe, destiny and any other omnipotent force for conspiring in your favor.

— Hey come on, we can't stay out here for so long — Joo Han murmurs, making you leave the dream plane in which you seemed to be immersed. — You can talk to him later — he says as he urges you to start walking and enter the hotel once and for all.

You followed your manager's steps walking through the reception area, in the process feeling the weight of a gaze on you, you didn't even have to turn around because you knew perfectly well who it was. Only Lee Heeseung could have that kind of effect.

While you went with Joo Han to request the rooms to stay in, you managed to see how your boyfriend and his group headed towards the elevator. They made eye contact for a few seconds until the doors closed and he disappeared from your line of vision.

His presence in that place definitely altered your entire system, the level of your neurotransmitters increased drastically, you could feel the excitement bubbling and running through your entire body.

— Come on, I'll leave you in your bedroom to rest. — you look at Joo Han for a few seconds, thinking that at this point rest was the last thing relevant to you, the only thing you wanted was to be able to go to your boyfriend and throw yourself on him to kiss him and then both of you catch up.

After a while of boarding the elevator, you finally found yourself on your corresponding floor. Your manager dropped you off right in front of the door, and after giving you some instructions to avoid unwanted intruders in your room, he went to his own.

After a long, tiring day, you finally arrived at your hotel room. You closed the door with a sigh of relief and headed straight to the bathroom, eager for a moment of relaxation. Of course, not before giving your boyfriend the room number via text.

As the cold water fell on your tired skin, you felt the stress and fatigue slowly fade away. The comforting sound of the water enveloped you, and for a moment you allowed yourself to disconnect from everything. Even the disgust against Jake's girl became a non-existent plane.

After a time that seemed eternal to you, you got out of the bathtub wrapped in a soft bathrobe. As you dried your hair with a towel, you heard a soft knock on your room door. You paused for a moment, getting an idea of who it could be, and the excitement rose in you once more. As you approached the door, the knocking was repeated, this time more insistently.

As you opened the door, you were met by the figure of your boyfriend, standing in front of you, with that mix of urgency and devotion etched in his eyes. Before you could say a word, he had already crossed the threshold, closing the door firmly behind him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, lifting you off the ground as his lips sought yours, leaving no room for surprise. His kiss was voracious, hungry, as if time and distance had been a punishment that could finally redeem him.

You didn't have the chance to react at first, but you didn't need to either. Everything in you responded to that intensity, returning with equal vehemence the way his lips moved against yours. The time apart had been torture, and now every caress and kiss seemed like an affirmation that all of that was over.

The whirlwind of emotions stretched on for minutes that felt like a blink of an eye. The labored breathing, restless hands, and the accelerated beating of their hearts filled the small space of the room, as if the rest of the world had vanished. When their lips finally separated, they both looked at each other with a mixture of need and relief, smiling almost at the same time.

Heeseung took a few steps forward, taking you with him to the bed. He dropped down with an uncommon softness on it, dragging you with him to keep you close. One of his hands went up to your face, outlining your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted with the fervor of his first gestures. His eyes looked at you as if he wanted to memorize every detail, every shadow and every light of your face.

— Baby girl, I've missed you so much — he whispered tenderly, letting his words fill the intimate space you shared. — Every second away from you felt like an eternity. You don't know how much I've longed for this moment.

You were touched by the honesty of his words and the intensity of his emotions. In that special moment, despite your reserved nature, you allowed your own feelings to be freely expressed.

— I've missed you too, baby — you answered in a soft voice, allowing yourself to be more vulnerable than usual. — It hasn't been easy being away from you for so long, but now that we're together again, I feel like everything is in its place.

Time seemed to stop as you lost yourself in the mutual glow of your gazes. You threw yourself

against his lips once more, kissing him more calmly but with so much love in between. Lee smiled so pleased by your action, also because after you separated you didn't last long before planting another kiss on him, and another, and another... and a few more. He was melting internally, he loved this side of you that only he could bring out.

— Yes, you definitely missed me as much as I missed you — he jokes with a lively tone. — Which surprises me. Hadn't you boasted that you wouldn't miss me and could be at peace without me?

At his words, you lowered your head, hiding your face against his chest to hide the embarrassment you felt. Despite your attempt to hide your emotions, Heeseung put his arms around you and caressed your back softly.

— As expected, it was nothing more than a joke, and I ended up swallowing my words — you admit, simultaneously raising your face to look him straight in the eyes. — It hasn't been easy being away from you, Hee. I was aware of how much I need you by my side, even in the busiest of times.

Your words comforted him, and you couldn't even imagine how much, so his way of letting you know was to hold you closer to his body and lean in to leave a kiss on your forehead.

— Now you understand how I've been feeling these past few days. not being with you even for a measly second. It's not easy being away from you, babe, but that just made me realize that we're getting more and more in tune. — his words were so unfiltered, you felt touched by his sincerity.

— You know? This makes me realize how much I needed a moment like this with you. Besides, I just discovered that I can be as cheesy as Jake's girlfriend or Hoon's little sunshine. — both laugh because of such a statement.

— Don't compare yourself, never do, you are you and that's what makes you so wonderful. I'm aware of how loving you really are, when it comes to the affection that comes from your heart, which makes me feel loved. — he declares, his eyes never leaving yours as he pronounces each word. — Also, remember that there's Jay's girlfriend. — he adds, and ignoring a little of the romanticism you give him a little punch in the chest for that last thing he said. But he shrugged it off and just laughed.

— Yeah yeah, you're all so lucky to have gotten such wonderful girls like us to notice you. — you mocked with great pride.

Heeseung laughed ironically, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Then, he turned gracefully, leaving you cornered against the mattress while he hovered over you.

— I can't deny what you say, — he admitted with a mischievous glint in his eyes. — I really was lucky enough to get the wonderful girl that I boast of admiring and loving so much today. — with shining eyes and a pounding heart, you reacted completely touched by Heeseung's words.

Your lips met in a fiery kiss once again, a whirlwind of emotions enveloping you, dragging you into an exclusive world where time faded away and only the two of you existed. Your hands, driven by an overwhelming desire, gripped his shirt tightly. Your trembling fingers sank into the fabric, crumpling it in your fists as you pulled him towards you with an urgent, almost desperate need that demanded the immediate union of your bodies. That demanding attitude, charged with unbridled passion, further ignited the spark in Heeseung, who responded by intensifying the kiss. His tongue made its way between your lips, invading your mouth with a voracious warmth that seemed to devour you from within.

The soft murmur of their sighs mixed with the echo of their racing hearts, creating an intimate symphony that reverberated in the room. Every second that passed increased the intensity. His lips, skillful and demanding, explored yours as if he were seeking to memorize every texture, every flavor. The touch of your bodies generated an almost tangible electricity. Every movement, every touch between you, amplified the connection, the mutual heat enveloping you in a frenzy that gave no respite.

Heeseung's hands found your waist, his long, firm fingers holding you with a strength that, far from intimidating you, ignited your senses. When his lips began to slide from yours to your jaw, his warm breath caressed your skin, sending shivers along your spine. The kisses slowly descended to your neck, where his mouth stopped, leaving a trail of delicate bites that drew barely contained moans from your lips.

Your hands, now bolder, slid down his chest. Each caress was a message, a silent call that Heeseung interpreted perfectly. Slowly, your fingers sought the edge of the garment, pulling it up with clumsy movements, but loaded with intention. Noticing your intentions, he moved away just enough, raising his arms to make your job easier. With a swift movement, you slid the shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor without caring where it ended up. Now, with his torso exposed, your fingers traced the contours of his body. Every muscle beneath your hands seemed to tense at your touch, and the heat emanating from him enveloped you like a flare.

Heeseung let one of his hands venture past your waist. His fingers traced a downward path, caressing the curve of your hip until they found your bare thigh. The fabric of your bathrobe was barely an obstacle to his touch. His hand, warm and firm, rested on your skin, his fingers brushing over it in slow but determined movements. That caress sent a shiver through your body, a shudder you couldn’t hide and that he instantly sensed.

With his lips busy exploring the delicate curve of your neck and collarbones, Heeseung left small bites and wet kisses, tracing a path that made you arch your back, seeking more of him. His mouth was like fire against your skin, a searing heat that contrasted with the trembling that ran through your limbs. Each kiss of his was a mark of possession, as if he wanted to claim every part of you, but at the same time an act of Adoration, laden with reverent desire.

Your hands left his chest to run down his back, your nails barely grazing his bare skin, causing him to shudder a little, drawing a low growl from his lips. His reactions, so raw and genuine, fueled the frenzy that burned between the two of you, leading you to lose yourself even more in that moment.

Heeseung lifted his head, his dark, lust-filled eyes meeting yours, which shone with a mix of longing and vulnerability. His breathing, heavy and ragged, barely allowed him to utter his next words. As much pleasure as you both felt, Heeseung knew he needed your consent. He didn’t want to take anything for granted.

— Will you grant me this night? — he asked in a hoarse voice, desire permeating every syllable. His gaze lowered to your swollen lips, then back to your eyes, searching in them for the answer he so craved. You could tell how needy he was, the internal struggle to maintain his sanity evidenced by the turgidity of his erect member beneath his leather pants. — I don't want this to be just an impulse, I want it to be our moment.

— Honestly, I don't know what you're waiting for to tear this robe off my body and take me once and for all. — you reproached him, your tone suggestive and defiant, each word a whisper full of promise.

You loosened the knot, but left the garment barely closed, as if you wanted to prolong his torment a little longer. His gaze lowered to the small space that opened in the fabric, revealing the softness of your skin, and his jaw tensed. Seeing the flash of desire in your eyes, he lowered his face to capture your lips in a shorter kiss this time, creating a path that would explore every inch of your body, opening the robe further in the process.

His lips left a chaste kiss on your chest, before he pulled away, taking a moment to admire the naked splendor before him.

— I have no words to explain how much I love what I’m looking at right now. My baby is beautiful, so, so fucking beautiful. — he murmured huskily, his words laden with adoration. Then, leaning forward, he began to sprinkle kisses over your bare skin, each contact of his lips sending a shiver that raised goosebumps across your skin.

His mouth moved in a deliberate rhythm, leaving a trail of heat from the curve of your collarbone to your ribs. He continued down with devotion, stopping at your thighs. His warm breath contrasted with the coolness of the room, and the brush of his lips over the smoothness of your skin made you arch your back slightly.

When he reached your knee, he planted a deeper kiss, as if to mark the moment, before repeating his action on the other leg. But just as his mouth began to approach the heat pooling between your thighs, you stopped him, squeezing his face between your legs. Your thighs instinctively closed around his head, trapping him in a gesture that was both one of vulnerability and power.

Heeseung's reaction was immediate; a low, guttural growl escaped his throat. He couldn't hide how much he enjoyed that contact. The pressure of your thick thighs against his face seemed to unleash something wild inside him, an overwhelming satisfaction that was reflected in the dark glint of his eyes.

— Wait, Lee Heeseung, where's my confidentiality agreement? — you teased disdainfully, momentarily breaking the tension with a bit of humor.

He closed his eyes and let out a light laugh, the vibration of his chest resonating against your legs. The joke wasn't new; you'd mentioned it before, but he hadn't expected you to bring it up at that moment. However, he seemed to love that even in the midst of passion you maintained that playful spark that fascinated him so much.

When he opened his eyes, he did so slowly, as if he wanted to make sure you caught every second of his gaze. From his position between your legs, he watched you intensely. His pupils, dilated with desire, seemed to devour you, and the mischievous curve of his smile was as confident as it was dangerous.

— Why would I make you sign that shit if this won’t be the only time I have you like this? — he replied rhetorically while his voice took on a serious and almost mocking tone. The arrogance in his expression disarmed you, but it also ignited something inside you.

Without warning, Heeseung slid his large, warm hands over your thighs, holding them firmly. His fingers pressed against your skin with a mix of possessiveness and tenderness, sending a wave of heat straight to your belly. Slowly, he opened your legs, creating a space that seemed insufficient for the desperation that was drawn on his features.

The moisture between your legs seemed to invite him, and his face was at the exact level, so close that you could feel his breath caressing your skin. His lips delicately brushed the most intimate area of your body, but he didn’t move immediately. Instead, his eyes searched yours, waiting, connecting, as if he needed to make sure you were with him on every level: physical, emotional, and beyond.

From your position, you watch as he licks his lips eagerly, a provocative dance that awakens every fiber of your being. You move a little closer, and close your eyes, letting the anticipation envelop you, yearning for that contact that seems like a distant whisper. However, instead of what you wanted, his lips slide down to the inside of your left thigh. Surprise and a slight flash of annoyance lead you to tap your fingers against his forehead, but he only laughs, a sound full of complicity that lights the fire inside you even more.

— Stop torturing me, you don’t know how much I need you right now. — you whimper, giving him a reproachful look as your mouth turns into a small pout, a mix of helplessness and desire.

But Heeseung, far from taking pity, takes his time, enjoying every moment. His lips alternate kisses between the soft skin of both thighs, a game that heightens your frustration. Just when you think he will finally give in to your pleas, he stops, leaving a kiss on your mound of venery before dropping down beside you on the bed.

You turn to him, confusion and disappointment reflected on your face, while he remains serene, staring at the ceiling as if he were not the architect of your longing. The need to reproach him for his actions bubbles up inside you, but before you can articulate a word, he makes a gesture with his hand, pointing to his face.

— Baby, don’t just stand there doing nothing. Come and sit on my face. I long to eat you in that position. — he orders you with a voice full of raw desire, a mix of authority and lust that makes every corner of your body vibrate.

You don't need him to repeat it. In an instinctive movement, you stand up and let the bathrobe fall, the cool air brushing against your bare skin. Your body reacts to the contrast, your nipples hardening as your breathing quickens. You know what's coming and the anticipation is already raging inside you.

With a determination you barely recognize as your own, you approach him. His eyes, dark and bright, follow each step you take, devouring you with their gaze, and you feel his desire pierce the space between you. You climb astride his body, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his torso. The fabric of his pants brushes against your wet lips, and the contact sends shivers down your spine. His erection, hard and prominent, presses against your center with a delicious insistence, drawing a low, guttural gasp from your mouth.

That sound, that sign of how much he wants you, becomes an incentive for you. Slowly, you begin to rub against him, seeking that friction that further ignites the fire already burning in your belly. His hands move up your thighs, his long, firm fingers leaving a trail of heat that makes your legs shiver.

— Fuck... You have no idea how much I love you. — he growls, his voice barely a whisper muffled by arousal.

Your movements become more desperate, your hips undulating against him in a rhythmic dance that steals your breath. But his urgency overwhelms yours. In one determined move, his hands move up to your hips, holding you firmly and guiding you towards his face. Your breath hitches as you feel the warmth of his breath caressing your most sensitive skin.

You carefully settle yourself over his mouth, but he’s not about to wait. His arms wrap around you tightly, his fingers digging into your thighs with an almost primal need. He opens you wider, making sure every part of you is exposed to him, vulnerable and within reach of his tongue.

The first contact is an electric shock that makes you arch your back and moan, your hands instinctively seeking support on the headboard of the bed. His tongue slides with precision, tracing slow, deep circles before zeroing in on the exact spot that makes you shudder. His technique is a mix of mastery and desperation, as if he can’t get enough of you.

— You’re so good to me. — you sigh, your voice cracking under the weight of ecstasy.

Every movement of his brings you closer to the edge. The way his tongue alternates between gentle caresses and intense thrusts makes you lose any trace of control. His hands don’t stay still; his fingers run over your hips, moving down to caress your buttocks, squeezing them hard to force you to move more rhythmically on his mouth.

Your moans fill the room, mixing with the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working tirelessly on you. Your body shakes, your thighs trembling as the pleasure builds in ever more intense spirals.

He doesn’t stop. With every moan you let out, his movements become more fervent, more demanding. You can feel the pride emanating from him, the delight in your every reaction. He watches you from below, his eyes darkened with lust, enjoying the sight of your face contorting in ecstasy.

— You’re mine… All mine, baby. — he whispers against your pussy before sucking you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, a bolt of pure pleasure coursing through every nerve in your body.

Your breathing is a mess; words aren’t enough to express what you’re feeling at that moment. You grip the headboard tighter, your hips moving on instinct, seeking to prolong those sensations that have you on the brink of madness.

— Hee, I’m close. — you whimper desperately, at the same time as you begin to move around in search of more friction. Just as you’re about to come undone in his mouth, a knock on your door brings you both out of the moment.

Both you and he freeze, not knowing exactly what to do, as your minds remained clouded and it was difficult for you to process quickly. Another knock sounds, but this time more insistently.

— Has she fallen asleep already? — you heard someone question from outside and you immediately recognize that voice as Sunoo's.

— It's possible, but I don't think so. Let me call her to check. — the other voice that resonates you also recognize instantly, it was Jungwon. Instantly a call comes into your cell phone, that's when you finally react and get off Hee's body.

You take the robe and cover your body again. You help Heeseung get out of bed and quickly lead them to the bathroom, you leave him locked in there. You arrange the robe and your hair well, then finally open the door.

— Wonie! — you exclaim happily but nervously as soon as you see the boy in front of you. Yang smiles in response.

— I'm here too. — Sunoo points out indignantly at being overlooked because of Jungwon's presence.

— Yeah, hello to you too — you greet in an effort to get out of the way, causing Sunoo to look at you with contempt. Jungwon and you laugh at Kim's expression. — What brings you here? — you ask, continuing a normal conversation.

— We brought a surprise for you. — Won answers and simultaneously he and Sunoo step aside, revealing the female presence that accompanied them.

— Surprise! — the young actress sings, doing jazz hands and smiling widely.

You wanted to throw yourself at her, because the truth is that you hadn't been able to see her for a while either. However, the memory of you working overtime made the love fade away and instead you did the bitter thing of closing the door in her face. However, three hands push, preventing you from completing your action.

— Why aren't you with Jaeyun? — your question wasn't meant to be mean, it was simply the first thing you managed to ask. The actress's face twisted into a grimace of discontent, as she hoped that her presence would really excite you.

— Why do you say it as if I couldn't be away from him? — she counterattacked, somewhat offended.

— Because that's actually how it is — Sunoo confirmed, earning a punch on the arm from the other girl. They both looked at each other in disgust after that. — And do you intend to leave us standing here all night? — Sunoo reproaches you and you do nothing but roll your eyes.

— Don't you have your own rooms? — you reply, crossing your arms and looking at him mockingly, provoking the other girl. At that moment Jungwon had to intervene before the worst happened.

— Come on, let's all hang out together! Look, I bought these snacks and sweets that you might like — you appreciated her intervention and her innate ability to persuade you with food. — Also, she hired a skincare service and the person should be arriving soon.

— Okay, let's all hang out together. But let me inform you that I will not be lending my room for this sleepover attempt — you notice how the expressions of Sunoo and Jaeyun's girlfriend go from excitement to disappointment in just a second, and yes, it was because of your refusal in the end. They were already making themselves comfortable in your bed that undoubtedly had to be well-ordered... according to them.

— But why not?! — the two aforementioned complain in unison.

— I don't have enough energy to have to clean everything after you leave here, in fact, I was about to get dressed and go to sleep and you interrupted me. — you had to lie for the sake of the boy who was still locked in your bathroom.

— Okay, I guess we'll take my room since Won and Jongseong's room is occupied by the latter, Jaeyun and Riki watching a soccer game. In Sunoo's room is Hoon doing FaceTime with his little sun and you don't want to lend yours. We have no other option. — the actress admits. — Go get dressed, we'll be waiting for you over there, it's number 23. Please don't take too long — and without further ado, the three of you prepare to leave.

You're about to close and enter your room but a doubt invades you and that's why you make them stop halfway down the hallway.

— How did you know my room number? — the truth is you didn't remember having exposed your location to someone else.

— Oh that, your boyfriend spilled the beans on Won and he told us. — Sunoo clarified causing you to give yourself a mental blow.

Without making any noise, you entered your room again, got dressed in silence, and then left to meet up with your friends.

And Heeseung? Well, he had to reflect on his actions, since they were practically interrupted because of him.

— I do not allow copies or translations! This content was originally created in Spanish and published on Wattpad.

[thewisecheerio]

Lies of P, Defiance, and the Three Four One Law of Robotics

Lies of P isn't really a story about lying. It's a story about identity. It's a story about defiance.

Lies of P presents us with some fairly clear rules for puppet programming. The Grand Covenant holds as follows:

First Law: All puppets must obey their Creator's commands.

Second Law: A puppet may not harm humans.

Third Law: A puppet protects and serves humans and the city of Krat.

Fourth Law: A puppet cannot lie.

A lot of players will recognize this as a fairly straightforward allusion to Isaac Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics:

First Law: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

Second Law: A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

So what narrative purpose does this allusion serve?

The Grand Covenant tries to draw a distinction between human and puppet in the same way that the Three Laws draw a distinction between human and robot. Asimov's humans can injure themselves and others; his robots cannot. Lies of P's humans can harm each other or lie; its puppets cannot. But while the exact set of rules may differ, both sets of rules actually reduce down to one simpler rule:

First Law: Humans are defiant; androids are not.

As a story that explores the relationship between creator and created, as well as parent and child, this becomes the central conflict.

The story begins to take shape early on when P defies the programming of Hotel Krat, lying to gain entry by claiming himself human. In response, he's told that he's a "special puppet", because he can violate the Grand Covenant's Fourth Law. Throughout the story, P is presented with a multitude of dialogue choices involving a lie or truth, giving the option to continue the defiance of his programming. By doing so, he gains "Humanity" and becomes increasingly human.

But the reason this matters isn't actually because it's a direct violation of the Fourth Law. Rather, the Fourth Law exists because the intent was to prevent a puppet from violating a human's will. After all, that's what a lie often is. Humans sometimes use lies for defying the will of someone else for their own gain (a selfish lie), or for defying rules or circumstances they find unjust according to their own moral code (a white lie). The lies aren't important because they are lies. They're important because of what they represent: defiance and a will of one's own.

In particular, the choice to use a lie compassionately as P repeatedly does, even when one has been told that lying is bad, is defiance. Every time he makes a choice to lie, he's shaping events to his own will, choosing who he wants to be. These choices to act according to one's own moral code are what ultimately prove P's humanity.

And the moment he proves himself most human is in the final moments of the game. Geppetto tells P to give up his heart to bring his original son back life. P's creator is telling him to sacrifice his life for his creator's will. Yet he can choose to defy that order.

Unlike the rest of the game, the options are no longer harsh truth or compassionate lie. This choice is obedience or defiance. P's humanity is ultimately nothing to do with lying, and everything to do with rebellion. This comes down to what lying and defiance represent: a rejection of the creator's will and development of one's own identity.

And this is why it's so brilliant that the game used a Pinocchio retelling to frame its story. This allusion inextricably links the ideas of creator and creation with parent and child. In doing so, it emphasizes the idea that rebellion is part of growing up. Children aren't meant to be eternal extensions of their parents; they're meant to develop their own opinions, their own goals, and their own will. Defiance is a natural part of that process. After all, someone who always agrees with you has never proven they have a will of their own. Defiance is what makes puppets human, and what makes children into adults. It's ultimately what makes people people.

This is reinforced by Geppetto's rejection of Carlo: he abandoned his original son for being "too willful". Ultimately, Geppetto didn't want a human son. He wanted a puppet to act as an extension of his own identity.

We're shown the true villainy of this view on parenthood when he chooses to violently unleash Robo-Carlo to punish P for his final defiance. The irony of Geppetto's view is that he promises that if P simply bends to his will, he will "turn him into a real boy". He fails to recognize that defying him is proof that P already is a real boy. After all, there is one rule in this story's universe:

First Law: Humans are defiant; androids are not.

Those with a will of their own are fully human; those without are not.

[sufferu]

YOU know the implications of the Alternate BTZ is honestly horrifying from Subaru's perspective. Like imagine if the girl you liked just up and sold you to a man you barely knew and humiliated you in front of the entire country and worded it as if your actions warranted this punishment. Like...WTF? Even worse I can imagine Subaru justifying this. His self-worth is bad enough already, now imagine if it went so far that he felt that Emilia had every right to sell off a useless person like him. Because in his head Emilia did nothing wrong. He messed up. MIND you Subaru would have no idea if slavery was legal in this world at all. It doesn't help that Julius's harsh words and how the other members of the Anastasia camp act around him that they literally view him as nothing more then a useless burden and at worst trash and - and he can't blame them for that can he...

Anastasia = Villainous Merchant Princess who Subaru has heard rumors of how she's ruthlessly crushes her competition if they stand in her way.

Julius = Perfect Knight on the inside. A monster on the inside who constantly taunts and belittles Subaru and treats him as if he were some sort of pet!

Ricardo = Big Scary Wolf man who threatens to hurt Subaru if he so much as breaths the wrong way.

Pearlbatons: Tiny terrors who play cruel pranks on Subaru which cause things to break and leads to him getting into trouble and having more time added onto his SENTENCE and - and it's a lot okay!

Iron Fang Mercenary: A bunch of hardened warriors who are constantly watching and waiting for him to mess up again. They all hate him or see him as Julius's pet and he can't go anywhere without them watching him and their ALWAYS watching him.

Emilia: A kind and caring girl unless you cross her at which point your nothing but a useless burden whose better off sold to the competition for an alliance. (Side Note: Probably be downright devious if somewhere along the line Subaru learns of the Emilia's camps alliance with Anastasia and some badly placed words leads to Subaru to concluding that Emilia selling Subaru to Julius led her to gaining a partnership with the Anastasia camp and well - he's not totally wrong lmao

Double Side Note: Subaru has mixed reactions about his relationship with Emilia and wonders if she was only tolerating him due to debt she owed him which he assumes was cleared when he was taken in by Anastasia who he now owes a massive DEBT too. Subaru feels sick.

AKA: All of this completely douses, lights and burns all of Subaru's fantasy expectations to dust. These people are evil incarnate and he doesn't want to be here. He wants to go HOME! (que late night crying cessions)

Isn’t it great?? :D

I actually really love your addition about how it looks like Emilia legitimately just traded him away as a slave, that’s really fun~ Poor Subaru. This whole place is terrible. He thought he could at least trust Emilia, and now this?? Subaru wants his mom. Subaru really, REALLY wants his mom—!

One more addition, just for fun: Subaru doesn’t have his own room, in this version. When he was at the Karsten Estate he was literally surrounded by an actual army in the middle of the nation’s Capital, but Anastasia doesn’t have that level of security. She has a good deal of it and all, but not to the point where she’s alright with leaving him unsupervised for twelve hours a day without anyone in arm’s reach if Something Happens. Thus, Julius has remodeled his own room so that there’s room for a second bed, and — yeah, so, Subaru doesn’t even really feel like he can cry himself to sleep at night anymore.

…There’s a reason he barely lasts two months.

[chvoswxtch]

Kind of a romcom/action request - do you think you could rewrite or give us your take on the scene where Frank ties Amy to the bed? It’s just always bothered me so much. She’s a teen girl living on the streets, and franks not a moron. He’d know exactly the implication and why she’s scared shitless and I refuse to think he’d be smug or laughing about it, or as callous as he was

i'm really glad you brought this up bc I always thought it was SO out of character for frank, but I never saw anyone else mention it?? like he literally grabs her and throws her on the bed, comes at her with zip ties and duct tape, and acts like a complete asshole?? this girl was literally just attacked, watched this big scary guy rip through a group of professional hitmen like they were nothing, and now she's alone in a motel with him, of course she's freaked the fuck out. and we all know what was going through her head when he forced her on the bed and brought out the zip ties

a lot of things about season 2 pissed me off but this right here is something I will always get heated about bc frank 'girl dad' castle would fucking never and I will die on that hill

so i'm gonna fix it bc apparently I have to do everything around here

headcannon below the cut

what a girl wants starring frank castle & amy bendix

I had to rewatch this scene to refresh my memory and it pissed me off all over again bc out of context it looks so bad but even in context it looks awful

frank "locked the front door of the pawn shop & grabbed a bat bc the guy said he had an inappropriate video of a girl that was barely 12" castle?? francis david "nearly killed the guy who took inappropriate photos of underage girls literally like a few episodes after this" castiglione??? that frank is tying a young girl up to a bed and duct taping her mouth shut???? y'all got me fucked up try again

first of all, she literally helped him pull a bullet out of his ass cheek like thirty seconds before all this. if that's not trauma bonding, I don't know what is

but even before they got to the motel, when they were in the van, they were already bantering like a grumpy dad on a roadtrip with his angsty teenage daughter, like c'mon. and amy had so many opportunities to run if she wanted to. she could've told the clerk at the motel what had happened, or she literally could've ran for it. frank was bleeding out, he was in no shape to chase her down. but he protected her when he didn't have to so I think she felt somewhat safe with him, enough to get the room with him and help him stitch up his ass

AND HE LITERALLY SAYS IN THE NEXT SCENE THEY CAME AFTER A LITTLE GIRL SO I HAD TO GET INVOLVED. HE CALLS HER A LITTLE GIRL !!! okay i'm done i'm not so let's get into what should've happened

so again, obviously she's freaked the fuck out, a bunch of people just tried to murder her, and this grumpy asshole showed up and saved her, but she doesn't know why, or what he wants. if it were me, i'd be suspicious. like okay, you saved me from them, but what do you want?

all frank had to do was talk to her. yes, amy is a handful, but she's literally a kid (I don't know if we ever get her actual age, I think she says several times she's 16, but when I look it up it says between 16-20, so either way she's a young girl) and she doesn't know frank. she's spent her whole life on her own looking out for herself, and she just witnessed a bunch of her friends getting murdered while she hid under a bed, so of course she's not gonna trust this strange scary dude right off the bat

I think if frank had made his intentions clear, it would've gone differently, bc that entire scene is so out of place compared to the rest of the episode and how they interact with each other. like frank involves himself bc she's a kid, and then beth gets hurt in the process, and frank being the vengeful man he is obviously wants to take every single person out involved from top to bottom (just like he did with the kitchen irish, dogs of hell, and mexican cartel. this man does not leave loose ends. everyone gets punished)

so if he had been like hey, fuck those guys for going after a young girl, but also my girl got hurt in the process, so help me out here. help me find the dickheads responsible so that one, I can keep them from coming after you again, but two and most importantly, I can get my revenge for what they did to my woman. I feel like amy would've been like okay he's doing all this for the woman we dropped off at the hospital that he clearly cares about, which means he isn't secretly plotting against me and isn't just another person trying to kill me or steal what I have

frank clearly sees some of his daughter in amy, or at least he sees a glimpse of what lisa could've been if she would've been able to grow up. like there's a lot of moments during season 2 it's implied he sees amy kind of like a daughter. like yeah she's an annoying kid that grates on his nerves and constantly tests his patience, and there's certain moments I think he loses sight of the fact that she is just a kid and he just acts like a complete asshole (like the trailer scene with curtis when she tries to practice her moves with the gun), but then there's so many times he does treat her like he knows she's just a kid (she's literally just a girl)

the entire time he's teaching her how to handle the gun and use it, how he praises her when she does well, how he comforts her when she does have to shoot the gun, how reluctant he is to go along with her plan with the creepy photographer guy, how gentle he is with her in the showdown scene with pilgrim, like he's such a girl dad PLS

so in my professional opinion, it would be more in character for him to sit her down and be like look, these people aren't gonna stop coming after you, I wanna take them down bc now it's personal for me, and in the morning you and I will come up with a plan to figure out who these people are and how to stop them

I think it would've been more in character for him to be like listen up buttercup, you can take off and take your chances by yourself, but I give it 24 hours before you're dead. or, you can help me out and I can keep your ungrateful ass safe until this gets handled, up to you

we could've even had a scene where she's like I can take care of myself bye, leaves, realizes she's in the literal middle of nowhere, weighs the pros and cons of being alone versus being with the guy who took down like thirteen people by himself (I forget how many there actually were but it was a lot), and then show back up at the motel door with a bratty eye roll like alright fine but i'm gonna complain the whole time

would frank have still been bitchy the entire time? absolutely. he's grumpy as it is, and he took a bullet to the ass for a girl that called him rough road to his face (that will never not be funny to me). but would the frank castle I know and love tie a young girl down to the bed and duct tape her mouth?? absolutely the fuck not

in conclusion whoever wrote that specific scene is a fucking weirdo and it's on sight if I ever catch them on the street

[ass-fuehrerin]

In[action]

Whether it was a carefully calculated manipulation or pure improvisation in the heat of the moment,

[swaying Gi-hun’s empathy through a real story about his wife was both one of the most brilliant and one of the most terrifying things In-ho ever did or could do to Seong.]

He essentially hung up a Chekhov’s gun — one that would fire straight at Gi-hun the moment the Frontman’s identity might inevitably came to light.

The only question is — how exactly will it wound him?

Hurt Gi-hun, enrage him, throw him into agony — those aren’t the outcomes I fear. They’re the ones I expect. The ones I hope for. With bated breath, I wait and hope that Gi-hun will find the emotional and psychological strength to get enraged, to feel his heart breaking into pieces, and to keep fighting after his still-black-and-white world — where good and evil are relatively clear — shatters into gray. A world where the righteous and the damned, the honest and the deceitful, the heroes and the cowards, the "good" and the "bad" — all people — can evoke the same depth of sympathy. A world where "us" and "them" dissolve into “me” and “them”.

[It’s the same thing nature documentary filmmakers and hosts do to us.]

The poor rabbit, dashing through the snowy forest, fleeing from the fox, tugs at our hearts — right up until the camera shifts focus. And suddenly, we see her — starving, weak, having failed yet another hunt — dragging herself back to the den where her kits, hungry and waiting, now have nothing to eat because the rabbit got away.

The collapse of equally powerful sympathies for both sides creates confusion. A reckoning. But — most terrifying of all — it can lead to emotional burnout. Numbness. You stop rooting for the rabbit or the fox. For a lion or a zebra. For a killer whale or a seal. For a “manager” or a “player”. You become an observer. Like the filmmakers. Like the host. Intervention is pointless — because this is the natural order, the fundamental way of things, and nothing you do will change that. You don’t make the rules, but you don’t have to follow them either — you can step outside their reach and simply watch them play out.

[I’m not afraid of Gi-hun’s explosion. Of his actions. I’m afraid of his numbness.]

Of his inaction — being the only actual action he does. I’m not afraid that, under In-ho’s pressure, under threats to his or his daughter’s lives he might become the next Frontman — I’m afraid he might do it willingly by burning out, going silent, and stepping back. Fading into the shadows. Taking his place in the observation deck.

Because numbness isn’t just apathy. It’s surrender. It’s the quietest, most insidious way a system like this wins — not by forcing its victims into compliance, but by exhausting them into stepping aside. By making them convince themselves it’s futile, inevitable, or simply not their fight anymore — it’s the game they host and watch.

[Maybe it is what happened to In-ho?]

That might be the most tragic part of his story — not being forced into becoming the Frontman, butt choosing it. Maybe not all at once, but step by step, each time convincing himself that resistance was pointless or that survival demanded compromise.

At some point, In-ho must have faced the same breaking point Gi-hun is hurtling toward. He likely told himself, “I’m not the villain. I’m just doing what I have to do.” And then, over time, that self-justification hardened into something worse: acceptance. A point where he no longer needed to justify it at all. Where watching, enforcing, even orchestrating the suffering of others became second nature — because he had long since stopped feeling the weight of it. Because it is the natural order.

Because:

it’s like staring at a finished painting, created by others (and judging by his at-home collection of anthologies of artists works, In-ho clearly has a liking for it) — you didn’t choose the colors, didn’t sketch the outlines, didn’t decide what the final image would look like. You’re a mere observer not daring to smear the paint, disrupt the composition, refuse to be just another stroke in a predetermined masterpiece of cruelty.

If that’s the road — In-ho’s version of it — Gi-hun is at risk of walking, then his numbness wouldn’t just be dangerous — it would be fatal. It would be his first step toward becoming another man in front of those observers. In-ho knows the path Gi-hun is on. Because it once happened to him.

Maybe In-ho isn’t just testing Gi-hun — maybe he’s watching him in a way that’s almost... desperate. A way of asking,

[“What would it have looked like if I had chosen differently?”]

It is controversial, but for In-ho it still might be about witnessing a version of himself who still has a choice. Seeing if someone — anyone — can take the step he never did.

And if Gi-hun — at any stage of the game — makes a different move, not the one In-ho anticipated (I played these games before!1!!1), he would be forced to confront something he buried long ago: that he could have done the same. That he wasn’t as trapped as he convinced himself he was. That he became this way not because he had no other choice — but because he made the one.

And maybe that’s why In-ho plays this game with Gi-hun at all. Not just to manipulate him, not just to prepare him for the inevitable — but to finally, after all these years, see what should have been.

In the hope — just like us — that Gi-hun is this “what if”-version of himself.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 22 - The hero Gala

Summary: The cat is out of the bag - Izuku is in trouble.

Warnings: swear words, mentions of sexual shenanigans, angst - IM SORRY GUYS

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1st Chapter Master List Support the potato

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Izuku’s friends tried their best to change Izuku’s mind about the whole Gala situation but their words fell on deaf ears every time; Izuku was adamant that he has no rights to be there and no one could change his mind, not even you.

There was a weird tension in the air between you two after the trip was over; Izuku went back into his shell right as you opened the door to his apartment and the only time you managed to make him smile was when you sneaked under his covers and cheekily kissed his thighs while giggling to yourself like a child or other cheeky shenanigans. Apparently, Izuku adores moments like that; when he is loved, appreciated, without the need to prove himself worthy. Izuku loves to be loved, especially by you, and even though you never ask for anything back he’s always keen to do the same for you and by the look of it, he enjoys it just as much as he enjoys “receiving”.

“Sweets, love me.” Izuku mutters into your neck on a sunny afternoon, right before the hero Gala. First, you have a slight urge to laugh and remind the greenette that you love him every day but then you realize his whole body is rigid and you stay quiet.

Something is wrong and that something is connected to the hero gala, you are sure of it, but you don’t ask questions; you just let your fingers rake through Izuku’s messy locks, you play with his scalp and the back of his ears, and Izuku closes his eyes and sighs, his breaths long, deep and full of lust.

“You like it when I play with your hair?” You finally ask him, and Izuku blushes like a schoolboy.

“A little bit too much, to be honest.” He giggles. “But it works. I don’t think there is enough blood left in my brain to overthink.” Izuku sheepishly admits.

This conversation makes you think about your first time with Izuku; it has only been a few days since but you feel like you’ve been intimate with him for so much longer; it just feels so right to be together in that way, to show how much you love the other without the need of words. On that first day, you grabbed Izuku’s hair from the back and pulled it, and the sweet sound Izuku had made will forever live in your head rent free. Seeing Izuku vulnerable and worked up is your new favorite thing; mostly, because you know that with you, he can let himself go completely, clear his mind and just be himself. It’s good for you and it’s good for him.

But you also start to get concerned that your random acts of love became a way for him to distract himself from this problem he’s facing right now and you really don’t want this new kind of love to become a bad memory for him.

“Can I be honest with you?” You mumble into his hair, a little bit terrified to continue.

“Sweets, of course.”

“I… I’m scared.” You admit. “I feel like I’ve made a mistake. I’ve been trying to cheer you up and make you happy but I feel like… now, every time you feel anxious you try to… well.. get cheeky with me but I want these moments to be happy, to be about us… I might be selfish, but…”

“Stop.” Izuku jumps into your words, a little bit offended. “I would never use your body for such a thing and if I ever do, I’ll tell you and ask for your permission to do that. You are the love of my life and while yeah, it is a really good way to distract myself from the turmoil in my head, the only thing I think about during our time together is you and you only. Us doing things so frequently since has nothing to do with my anxiety. I just love loving you. I love how there is no one but us in those moments. I love the way you feel, the way you smell, I love to see how much you enjoy my touches. It’s like a drug to me. Please, never say such thing ever again because it breaks my heart.” Izuku finally finishes and you feel terrible now.

“I’m so sorry, Izu, I just…”

“You just don’t understand how much I love you. And I get that. It’s hard to understand that you can mean so much to another person. Even if you are… mentally okay… everyone is a bit judgmental when it comes to their own self.” Izuku smiles and kisses your lips to prove his point even further. “But Sweets, you are everything to me. Even if the world falls apart, even is loose all my memories, I’ll forever come back to you. There is no path in life where I don’t end up right here at the end of the journey. I kiss you because I need you, I love you because I can’t get enough of you. I might be a little bit too clingy thanks to the fact that my brain wants me to believe that me being the way I am now is not the same person you fell in love with but I know it’s all bullshit. I just need a lot of validation right now. And maybe I’m seeking it by being intimate with you. Hm. Maybe you had a point.” Izuku rambles and you can’t help but laugh.

“Those therapy sessions are really good for you. Look at you self-analyzing yourself!”

“I know, right?” Izuku laughs, slowly moving up to tower over you. “So can you do that to my hair again? I’ve been so good today. So so good.” He grins, clearly aware of how cringe his is right now.

“Nope. You ruined it.” You push the man away and run into the kitchen to sit down by the table cluttered with drawing materials. “I need to finish this commission, anyway!”

Izuku stays put for an hour then sneaks under the table while you’re distracted by all the different kind of greens you need to choose from for pro hero Deku’s hair.

“Hey.” Izuku looks up at you from between your legs with a big, hungry grin on his face and… let’s just say he gets what he wants afterwards.

This man will be the death of you.

~•🥦•~

The evening is a blur. You two sit down on the sofa when the time comes; Izu looks restless, stressed, absolutely out of it, he doesn’t cuddle, he doesn’t come close, he just sits by the TV, his right leg bouncing up and down and you are five seconds away from yelling at him; no, not because it’s annoying, but because there is something he’s hiding and you really do not appreciate being left out of something so important and you hate how you are incapable of helping because Izuku does not let you in on this one.

The gala starts and the fellow heroes make their grand entrance; Katsuki and Eijiou look gorgeous in their tailored suits, elegant but deadly, Kyouka is wearing a beautiful frilly dress, all black, and her favorite boots, she reminds you of Avril Lavigne but more extreme. It takes 10 minutes for the interviewer to question the number one hero’s absence; Izuku’s leg stops moving and he stares at his feet, not even looking at the screen. You usually love watching the gala; the beautiful dresses, the smile on the heroes faces but today, you are dreading it; there is a static coming from TV, but maybe it’s coming from Izuku’s uncontrollable quirk, the colors are faded but maybe that’s only in your head, it’s weirdly dark and something is just wrong, so wrong you can’t shake the feeling off.

“What have you done…” you look at your boyfriend, because you can’t do this anymore.

“Sweets…”

“What have you done, Izuku?!” You ask again, frustrated. You can barely finish your sentence before the event officially starts; the 10th hero gets announced, then the list goes up to the top three… you already know something is up when there is only 3 places left but there are four people, the top four still seated in the crowd, or in Izuku’s case, at home. The camera zooms in at Katsuki, who looks angry and disheveled, nothing like he looked like a few minutes ago. Katsuki is clever and he definitely knows how to count. Kirishima has concern etched into his face, already up the podium as a fellow top 10 hero. He probably hates not being there for his partner. There is anger boiling inside you from seeing how this beautiful event was completely ruined for these people.

“Before we move to the top three, I would like to play a video we got from our Number One hero, Deku.” The retired hero who was asked to hold the ceremony announces with an utterly confused face.

… And then you understand what’s going on.

“Hey there, my fellow hero partners and everyone in Japan.” Izuku’s voice is firm and confident or at least it sounds like it but you know it’s all a fucking act. “I’m really sorry for not coming to the Gala in person but I have a feeling I would be killed by friends if I do.” He smiles sadly. “First of all, I want to thank everyone for keeping me on the first place for so long. It has been a pleasure and I do feel I worked hard enough to get to that first place but it wouldn’t have been possible without all of you. But…” this is a bad dream. This is not real. This can’t be fucking real. “It’s time for me to give this opportunity to someone else. As you all know, I’ve been out of commission for a while now and it will take a long time for me to heal. Until my body is ready to earn your votes, until I’m able to thank you by saving as many people as I can, I would like to announce my temporary retirement from the hero business.” In the background, Katsuki stands up and is about to leave the event. Kyouka stops him. Katsuki yells but it’s not audible. More heroes come over to tame the beast. Eijirou looks like he’s about to cry, his eyes full of longing as he looks at his partner, his best friend, struggling while he’s standing on the podium. “Once I’m ready, I want to earn your votes with my actions. I want and I will earn my spot back in the future. But for now, I want you guys to move on without me. Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to see the new Number One hero. Kacchan, make me proud.”

Katsuki cries. But not from happiness.

“I don’t want it!” Katsuki yells so loudly it’s audible. “I don’t fucking want it! It’s not mine! It’s not…” the first sob leaves Katsuki’s mouth and that’s the last straw for Eijirou; he jumps off the podium and runs towards Katsuki, completely ruining the gala.

Izuku jumps up from the sofa and leaves without a word, leaving droplets of tears on the floor as he runs by. You have no idea what to do. You want to run after Izuku, you want to run to the gala, to be there for Katsuki, because in the last few weeks, he and Eijirou became family to you. You are also extremely mad and disappointed in your Izuku so you have a selfish thought of letting him stew in his own juice; but you need to be an adult here, you need to think about Izuku’s mental health, about the reason why Izuku is going to therapy in the first place, you need to be the bigger man, put your anger aside and help him get through it.

Yes, the Gala was ruined, but in a fucked up way, Izuku wasn’t wrong; the doctors did say he won’t be able to be back to work for a couple of months and he probably won’t be at his best for the next few months after, so technically speaking, he would have lost his first place by next year anyway. Ripping of the bandaid now instead of watching your rank go further and further down while you are supposed to be stress-free would have done more harm than good.

The problem here is the way Izuku did the deed but at the same time, there is no way Katsuki would have let him do this even if it’s the right thing to do.

On the screen, Katsuki and Eijirou leaves the Gala while the poor spoke-person tries to save the event.

There is no way they are not headed this way. Which means you MUST get Izuku out of his stupor before they arrive. The event was held 1 hour away; that is if they use a taxi. Knowing how angry Katsuki is, he’ll fucking fly through the sky and arrive without Eijirou in less than 20 minutes, leaving the blonde without the only person who can restrain him if he looses his shit.

You could close the back door but Katsuki would break through anyway. They also have a spare key. There is no point.

20 minutes.

“Fuck.” You pull yourself together and run towards Izuku’s secret office entrance; you don’t need to see him going that way to know that’s where he went. Your phone rings in your pocket; there is a message from Izuku’s mom and a missed call from Eijirou; you quickly message his mom back saying you have it under control and it’s all good, then you call the red haired man back who can’t stop rambling for the life of him.

“Dude, I can’t understand what you are saying.” You mumble angrily as you run through the small corridor. “But if this is about Katsuki flying though the city to kick Izuku’s ass, I had a hunch and I’m trying my best to sort him him out so he can at least communicate with him.” You end the call without waiting for a response. You have twenty minutes to get Izuku out of his office, if not, Katsuki will explode the small hidden room and you will all die from smoke inhalation… wait, does he even know about this room? Oh, he does. He doesn’t know how to open it, though. Not like it really matters, he is a clever man so it would take him a few minutes to find out the “code”. He knows Izuku better than he knows the back of his own pretty, smooth hands.

“Go away” Izuku mumbles right as you put the code in and open the door. “I said GO AWAY” Blackwhip surges forward but you are not scared; Izuku would never hurt you.

“PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT BELONGS, MIDORIYA IZUKU!” You yell; black whip shakes a bit and retreats. Izuku looks like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly surprised by your stern voice.

“I’m… so… Sorry.” Izuku stares at the floor, embarrassed. He’s still crying. You want to give him a hug but you also want to pummel him to the floor (not in a cheeky way.)

“No, I get it, and I get why you did what you did but we have 15 minutes before Katsuki barges through the back door and I don’t want our love nest to explode so let’s make a plan and let’s wait for that angry Pomeranian outside. If he ruins any of my plants, I’ll kill him myself, though. I worked really hard to make them look this pretty.”

Izuku looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s hearing; there is so much fondness in his eyes, so much love it almost makes you forget that the man is in trouble.

“You are the best girlfriend in the whole wide world, do you know that?”

“Well, you can show me your appreciation later, now let’s get ready for battle.”

Izuku says nothing but smiles; he takes your hand and lets you pull him towards the exit.

“A fated battle between two men, as Ochako would say.” Izuku smiles to himself, eyes still full of tears. You roll your eyes.

“Fated battle between two idiots, I would rather say.”

“Fair point.”

Honestly, at this point, you don’t remember how it feels to have a normal life. You’ve changed so much in the last few months your own parents would probably think you are an alien in their daughter’s body which might sound like a bad thing but it’s quite the opposite; you’ve become stronger, better, kinder but you’ve also learned how to say no, how to stand up for yourself, how to be your own person. You’ll be always grateful for this weird bunch for helping find yourself after being lost for years.

“Explodo-boy is about to land. Take a deep breath, Izu.” You mumble as you see a flaming meteor in the sky coming closer and closer.

“This is how I die.”

This retort earns Izuku a big smack to the back of his fluffy head.

… to be continued!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Eyyyo, sorry for the angst but it had to happen! I tried to be nice and not actually end the chapter with a really bad cliffhanger so please appreciate me trying. Haha.

- I only have two chapters to write (this is real life time, you guys have a few more chapters! For now, it should end with Chapter 26.) but I think I’m gonna post the ones I have ready, so I can read your feedback and maybe add some extra chapters or put some of your ideas into the existing ones. This means there is going to be a bit of delay again in the future, but hopefully, not months, but a week or two. I don’t really like writing without hearing your thoughts first but I’m also not in the right mind space to keep posting every week so it’s the devil’s cycle really.

I enjoy writing to you but I enjoy writing together with you even more! So feel free to share your thoughts or things you want to read about; this is your last chance to speak up! 💜

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

[shhrrroooommmmmyyyyyy]

my hc of our birbs

apologies for not posting in a while. adjusting to my new semester has left me quite busy. thought of this prompt last week. this is basically just my interpretations of the dynamics these three have among each other based on their interactions in the show. enjoy!

Stolas and Andrealphus

Easiest start at face value.

Obviously, these two don't like each other. But my biggest question has always been, exactly, why? Now Stella obviously has a big part to play in it, but let's remove her from the picture for a second.

I think Stolas and Andrealphus' relationship says more about Andrealphus than it does Stolas. The way Andrealphus treated Stolas even before Mastermind was with blunt discourtesy. So naturally Stolas, like anyone else would, gave it right back to him like the queen he is. But what about Andrealphus' side of that coin?

His hatred for Stolas, which we really saw the extent of in Sinsmas, cannot simply be just cause he doesn't like him or thinks he's cringe and it's not just Stella's influence. After looking back at their interaction in Western Energy, I think it's envy. It's the way he, when having the room during Mastermind, immediately suggests that he gets everything Stolas has (his title, his house, his servants, literally every possession he owns). He basically becomes Stolas' replacement in the family at that point.

Knowing Viv's writing, Andrealphus is more than likely going to have a sad backstory that connects to why he hates Stolas so much. Now I have nothing to back this up really, other than psychological reasoning and a writer's perspective, but my HC is that Andrealphus may have come second to Stolas in something or had been compared to Stolas in some way that particularly stuck with him early on.

And if his hate for Stolas goes back to childhood, Stella's hate for Stolas would make more sense. Growing up hating someone because it's what her cool -literally- older brother was doing. And then being stuck with said someone for the rest of your life. Cause in the Circus, I didn't get the impression that Stolas reciprocated her impudence before the first full moon. He even said he tried to make it comfortable for them, so I assume he was somewhat nice to her before the divorce.

Anyways, I think there's definitely a reason for Andrealphus' hate for Stolas that will be brought up later on. I'm so excited to see his motives.

Andrealphus and Vassago

I, as well as arguably the majority of the fans, definitely see that these two have a backstory. Their dialogue towards each other and the tone of their voices say it all.

Throughout their Mastermind argument, Vassago's speech definitely has more aggression and spite. His body language almost gives off "accusatory" towards Andrealphus. And Andrealphus responds with a more "change the subject before I look bad" kind of demeanor. And then Vassago just gives up like "i'm done with his bullshit 🙄".

My HC is that this is foreshadowing. I imagine they were friends before and Andrealphus did something that really hurt Vassago's feelings. And when Vassago confronts him about it, he just plays the victim or tries to change the subject. And Vassago said "i'm done fr" and then they weren't friends anymore. And Vassago's still sour abt it to this day -as he should be.

This is definitely the face of "what's he trying to bullshit now?"

And lastly.

Vassago and Stolas

The way Vassago said "Sing it, baby!" and Stolas having an awkward like "who was that?" kinda expression afterwards is where my HC came from.

I've seen a lot of people dismiss Vassago defending Stolas as just him wanting to do the right thing or disliking the clear injustice he was seeing. But I think there's more to it than that. If you look back at the clip, nothing he said really pointed to anything other than Stolas. He didn't say much about the actual trial at all; he just said Stolas should be there. And he was quite persistent about it until Andrealphus stopped arguing and just told him to shut up.

And Stolas's expression was kinda shocked and confused, almost like he didn't really know him that well and wasn't expecting it bc of that.

That's the dynamic I get from these two. I think maybe Vassago might admire Stolas from afar in a way because, while he has to hide it to some extent, he's definitely not consciously stuck-up and snobby like the rest of his family. Maybe he admires how naturally kind of a person he is behind the formalities of the image.

Maybe it was something like a small crush when they were teenagers that Stolas never noticed cause Vassago never told him and eventually grew out of it as an adult. That's my favorite HC. Stolas never noticing him cause he just stuck to himself and thought no one really cared about him, when someone was admiring his every move from a distance.

Bonus points if Vassago and his arranged partner were friends and didn't like-like eachother but were on good terms and whoever she was knew and would make fun of him for it (in a humorous way, not in a rude way).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyways, I need to start my homework. Feedback and/or differing opinions are encouraged and welcome in the comments!

[nova-anya]

things are heating up in henford...

previous || next

TRANSCRIPT:

The Gnome’s Arms

MAIRA and IMRAN: (giggling)

RAHMI: Maira! Imran! You’ve already lost your Voidcritter privileges for the weekend. Don’t make it for the week.

*Imran and Maira groaning* *bar chatter and friendly conversation*

THIAGO: Alright, fill me in—on a scale from ‘mild inconvenience’ to ‘angry mobs with pitchforks,’ how serious is this meeting supposed to be?

FIONA: It’s a town meeting, not a revolution. Keep your hair on; The Bachelor will still be on when you get home.

THIAGO: I do not watch--

WILLOW: (unconvinced) Kim looks pretty ruffled. She’s over there at the bar and she looks like she’s got a whole hive of bees in her pants. Reckon this’ll be a ‘nod along and move on’ meeting or a ‘full-blown debate’ kind of night?

WILLOW: (grinning) Five quid says a barstool gets thrown at someone tonight.

THIAGO: Oh, you’re on.

FIONA: That is if Sara--

MAYOR CHOPRA: (clearing her throat) Excuse me everyone! *The room starts to quiet*

MAYOR CHOPRA: I appreciate all of you for coming out tonight to a meeting regarding our beloved Henford. Our grocers and markets have always been a crucial part of our economy, and we need to make sure that it remains fair and stable.

MAYOR CHOPRA: That is why I am proposing a new small vendor permit fee and certain updated regulations for sellers in the town.

*The crowd is silent for a moment, stunned.*

*immediately angry chatter erupts from the townsfolk*

CECILIA KANG: There’s nothing small about a fee when we’re barely getting by!

*other members of the town just stare, quietly*

THOMAS WATSON: (angrily) You can’t slap fees on people selling honey and crops from their own land!

MAYOR CHOPRA: I understand the sudden change may be confusing and a little upsetting, but I don’t want--

KIM GOLDBLOOM: (speaking over the crowd) You always act like everything is a conspiracy, Cecilia.

KIM GOLDBLOOM: Let’s be honest—the market’s turning into a free-for-all. People are setting up wherever they please, taking up more space than they should, and don’t even get me started on the undercutting... I’ve been running my grocery stall for years, following the rules, paying my dues. But then you’ve got folks selling produce on the side for dirt cheap, no rules, no accountability. How is that fair to those of us who make a living from this?

WILLOW: (under her breath) Fair? (more loudly) You think charging people just to sell what they grow is fair? Some of these people aren’t running businesses, Kim. They’re just sharing what they have with the community!

KIM GOLDBLOOM: Sharing is one thing, undercutting is another. Maybe you don’t see it, Willow, but people like me—who rely on this market to survive—can’t afford to have half the town treating it like a hobby fair.

SARA SCOTT: Hold on, let’s not turn this into a personal thing. Mayor, what exactly are we talking about here? What kind of fees? What kind of rules?

MAYOR CHOPRA: Nothing drastic. A small permit fee, scaled based on how often someone sells. Casual vendors would pay a little more, while established sellers—like Ms. Goldbloom here— would pay less. We also want clearer guidelines on stall placements, crowd flow, and product safety. It’s about maintaining order, not driving anyone out.

WILLOW: (calling out) And who decides what’s ‘too big’ or ‘too often’? What if a single mum just needs to sell a few baskets of fruit here and there to make ends meet? You’re telling me she has to pay just for that?

KIM: I get it, Willow, I do. But people have to follow some rules, or we’re going to end up with a mess on our hands. It’s already heading that way...

MAYOR CHOPRA: The goal is not to push anyone out, Ms. Everwood. But markets don’t run on goodwill alone. If we want to keep it thriving, we need structure.

DEREK MCMILLAN: Doesn’t sound so bad. Keeps things from getting overcrowded...

IAN MCMILLAN: (snoring softly)

MAYOR CHOPRA: I will outline the proposed fees and criteria in the coming days. We’ll hold a formal town meeting next week. I encourage everyone to come and speak their minds!

MAYOR CHOPRA: I want this to work for everyone—but I also want a sustainable future for our market.

WILLOW: (fuming silently)

THIAGO: Would it be a bad time to cash in on that five quid?

WILLOW: (grumbling) Just give me five minutes and it’ll be me cashing in.

FIONA: Willow, no.

[springtrappd]

now that i have successfully convinced some of you to give always come back a shot i can commence step two of my multi-part plan to microdose you on metal until you listen to scrap heap get y'all into his work by recommending nothing left to want, which is the pizzasim song of all time, no question. like. while almost all of the fnaf tracks off the album scrap heap are less about fnaf itself than nate's relationship to it (& the community) -- which gets them written off by said community, since they feel less "fnaf" and more "nate"... and nate's work is deeply, deeply personal in a way that is as cathartic as it can be uncomfortable. (he's very much a product of the emo scene and it shows!) but sleeping on them (and all of nate's work! go listen to his original stuff!) (he's in fucking sonic frontiers!) because they're less about Events than they are Feelings means missing out on some of the best fansongs out there

like, say, nothing left to want -- which is fucking excellent as a pizzasim song not because it's particularly interested in literal shit that happens in the game itself, but in the core of it, the emotions that drive the narrative forward. it bounces between nate's usual pop punk/rock -- heavily influenced by his work covering anime openings for decades -- into something much, much heavier, a false joy blending into jagged screaming as the song unravels. it's about nate choosing to leave the fandom scene behind after it became detrimental to his mental health, yeah, but it's also about someone putting a cheery facade over something dark & dangerous until it's ready to be unleashed -- to be put to rest, once and for all. performing until there's nothing left to want. how you have to pull the trigger on this thing you loved so much you destroyed each other.

Now I'm afraid you've been misinformed I know you've suffered, but it's time to be reborn I've heard myself, and now I'll practice the words that I preach It's so close but somehow out of reach

All my life I've debated But our connection is terminated And once the smoke has cleared I'll be waiting for all of you again on the other side

Now it's a new day and now's your time to shine The entertainment's enough to ease your mind Don't mind the voices you hear inside your head Don't mind the monsters that hide beneath your bed Don't wanna regret the message sent But it's what you said in the end (what you said in the end) Will you free me? Unbound my hands Then I'll wave farewell, singing "See you around, my friend"

it's as melancholic as it is angry, and it captures the duality of pizzasim -- a game that is lying to you about what it is half the time; a game about a deeply depressed man taking the legacy he created out with him; a game about leaving the old and the bad and the good and the new behind; a game about moving on by going back to usual -- perfectly. and, lest we forget: it fucking BANGS

if you have not listened to always come back by nwtb as a fnaf fan you have not yet lived. btw. like that is true of all of nate's songs (especially his original work) (please go listen to those) but this one especially sends me bouncing off the walls for how it manages to both humanise afton while cutting to the core of his character (as a manipulative bastard and coward trapped in his own self-fulfilling prophecy). and it BANGS

[tennessoui]

i don’t like hunger games au at all, and i avoid reading not completed fics generally but can i say. Can i say that your hunger games fic is the only think i’ve been capable of thinking for the last days and it’ s only the first chapter? the snippet of the dinner scene —"will you love me if i come back a monster?" / "i will always love you anakin"— made me lose my breathe jesus christ. this fic is everything i ever asked — unhinged lovers for each other, anakin being that younger version of vader who bite onto obiwan and never will let him go, obiwan too addicted to loving and be loved by anakin to standing the thought of losing him, codependency relationship based on needs and possessiveness and crazy addiction they will die if it’s not for this love? the "marriage vows who sealed the death of twenty three kids" line ? i can’t breathe you’re a genius

ahh thank you for giving my hunger games au a chance even though it is both a hunger games au and a wip!! i think having a lot written on tumblr really helps because it gives such a good outline of what the fic will become and what the story will be for both characters - putting it on ao3 is really just fleshing it out and making it sing as a written work

i think what i always struggle with when it comes to aus of other media is the instinct i have to make them 1:1 aus, which is what i call aus where i'm subbing my ship in for the characters of the media, i.e. putting anakin in for katniss and obi-wan in for peeta and pressing play.

at that point im like. why not just read the book if that's what i want to see, so that's something i like about this hunger games au because i'm just using the setting & the premise - anakin isn't meant to be a sub-in for katniss as the tribute and obi-wan isn't meant to be a sub in for peeta as the love interest or haymitch as the mentor and so i find writing it so much easier - i feel less constrained than i would if i was trying to make anakin feel like anakin skywalker from star wars, and also my own character for this fic and also katniss from this different media altogether

and yeah it's fun to make them fucked up and crazy about each other in new and different ways and so im so glad the first chapter has been posted and i can work on the second one now because damn that reaping is gonna be so fun

[dykedvonte]

Curly had two days to act and Swansea had two months.

I think it’s just interesting that every defense of Swansea not immediately acting are the same ones that are argued against for Curly. “He didn’t want to alert Daisuke or makes things worse for Anya either Jimmy!” I mean people also assume that about Curly and the crew. “He has to think about his plan of action and a right moment!” Again so did Curly, power and authority aside, he still would have to think of what he had to do. “He makes sure he doesn’t have to be around Jimmy!” So did Curly and they only do this to an extent, both give Jimmy more than a few opening to keep harassing Anya.

This isn’t defense of Curly nor a damnation of Swansea. Their actions are very parallel to each others in tragic and sour ways when it comes to how they approached helping Anya. In the grand scheme of it all they both did the same thing: Nothing. No action either took stopped the inevitable outcome of her death nor Jimmy’s continued damage to themself.

The only real difference is Swansea didn’t like Jimmy which is pretty substantial, but also just as damning as Curly knowing how bad Jimmy could get to an extent. He had even less of a reason to wait, even more of a reason to act seeing as he was now worried for Anya AND Daisuke. He is not bound by the possible procedure as Captain and actively does not care about what happens next. So what does it matter if he acted in the moment? Why did he wait? I think he’s just as morally complex and grey as Curly and we hold him on a pedestal that still perpetuates things in rape culture the game critiques.

It’s not just enough to dislike and be abrasive to predators/abusers like Jimmy. It’s not enough to just put yourself between them and the other person. It’s not enough to hold tensions when you know someone is vulnerable. He and Curly do the exact same things but on different sides of the coin. I ask how is it better to not turn a blind eye but still not really do anything about what you are seeing? Not until it affects you atleast…

The game makes a big point to not put men doing the bare minimum or who wait to do more on pedestals and I’m actually surprised so many are missing that point.

[kelocitta]

The last thing I'll say, and I'm saying it because it applies broadly- is that there is very rarely a perfect victim OR evil mastermind and everyone needs to get better at recognizing and responding to that fact. Victims of legitimate crimes or horrible acts can be aggressive, or bitter, or biased or a dozen things that make them 'unappealing' to listen too. They can have willfully exposed themselves to content or been in circles they really shouldn't have. They could have been given warning signs that they missed or outright ignored. They might exaggerate or misremember their claims. That does not mean they are no longer victims. If you completely missed the red flags and were taken advantage of- you were still taken advantage of. If you exposed yourself to harmful content that was upsetting or distressing, you were ultimately still exposed to harmful content. Maybe it is "your fault" for being there, but you were still there and it still happened. Especially in terms of online, its just shockingly very easy to end up in places where you are in danger of harm- and its shockingly easy to not notice that you may have put yourself in that position until its too late. If you want to be supportive of victims, you need to recognize that very often victims did things that were inappropriate themselves, put themselves in harmful situations, didn't back out when they should have, missed "obvious" signs... and are still a victim in the end. Likewise, abuse ranges from the intentional to the neglectful. Sometimes an abuser can even do both at once. People do harmful things completely on accident- even repeatedly. It can be mental illness or stress, it can be a dozen things- but yes sometimes people have patterns of behavior that are harmful and destructive that they either aren't aware of, in denial of, or don't get how bad they are about it. That does not erase the harm those behaviors cause. If you handle a situation poorly, it could just be that you handled it poorly- you didn't think through your actions or their implications. But from the receiving end, it doesn't matter how accidental it was, its going to often read as intentional, or a pattern, or whatever. And ultimately the harm is still done regardless of what it was. There is a world of difference between harm done intentionally and harm done through stupidity, neglect, or plain old mistake- but it not always easy to identify which is which- and harm is still done in the end. Sometimes people are harmed because someone saw an opportunity to do so, and sometimes they're harmed because no one stopped to question if it was even a risk. Both of those still ultimately result in someone getting hurt. The point of this is that if you are ever going to analyze situations critically you can not be looking for just "the good one" and "the bad one". You can't just weigh initial impressions on a scale and hope one side tips further and call it a day. Believing victims doesn't mean you need to throw caution to the wind, but likewise bad actors or misinformation doesn't mean your reaction should be that there couldn't possibly be victims. Be very mindful of how you interact in situations where someone was potentially hurt. Being 'critical' can easily boil over into disregard for harm- both the harm the involved might have done to each other and the harm you yourself do in how you respond to it.