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aspenmissing · 2 days ago

Note

I love what you do! Could you do one that reader has a panic attack and they kinda feel ashamed about it

Thanks love your work 💕

ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ || 6956 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋꜱ, ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ/ᴇᴍʙᴀʀʀᴀꜱꜱᴍᴇɴᴛ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ ɪᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ! <3 <3

JAYCE

Jayce paced the study, the sound of his boots echoing off the cold stone floors of his workshop. It had been a long day filled with meetings, endless reports, and plans for progress that seemed to move at a pace far slower than he was comfortable with. Still, his mind wasn't on the work. It hadn't been for the last hour, ever since he noticed Y/N's odd silence in the room.

They had been sitting at the large table across from him, absentmindedly fiddling with a small device they'd been working on together. At first, he hadn't thought much of it. Y/N often got lost in their thoughts, and Jayce had learned to give them space, trusting that they'd speak up when they were ready.

But now, something felt off. He caught them biting their lip, their hand trembling slightly as they tightened their grip on the device. Jayce paused mid-step, watching them out of the corner of his eye. His gut twisted. Something wasn't right.

"Hey," he said softly, turning toward them. "You alright?"

Y/N’s gaze flickered up, but their eyes were distant, and Jayce could see the tension in their shoulders. The air seemed to shift, heavy with unspoken words.

"I’m fine," they replied too quickly, but Jayce knew them better than that.

"You don't seem fine," he said, his tone gentle but insistent as he walked over to them. "Talk to me."

Y/N hesitated, then forced a weak smile. "Really, Jayce, I’m just tired. It’s nothing."

Jayce knelt down beside them, his hand hovering near their arm. He could feel the static charge of anxiety in the air, a nervous energy that felt like it might crack under pressure. He reached for their hand slowly, waiting for them to pull away, but Y/N didn’t. Their fingers trembled as they intertwined with his.

"You don’t have to hide from me," Jayce said quietly, his voice laced with concern. "I’m here."

A long breath caught in Y/N's throat, and for the first time, Jayce noticed the way their chest was rising and falling too quickly. Their face had paled, the faint tremors in their body growing more pronounced.

Before he could react, Y/N stood up abruptly, stumbling back a step. The sudden movement startled him.

"I’m sorry," they whispered, eyes wide, darting around the room like they were looking for an escape. "I—I'm just... I'm not okay. I—I don’t know why it’s happening. I—"

Jayce moved quickly, standing and reaching for them. He didn’t hesitate to pull them into his arms, steadying them against him. Y/N tensed for a moment, then collapsed against his chest, their hands gripping his shirt tightly. The panic that had been bubbling just beneath the surface now burst through, and Jayce could feel their body shaking, their breath shallow and erratic.

"Shh, it’s okay," he murmured, his hand gently rubbing their back. "I’ve got you."

But even as he held them, he could feel the weight of their discomfort, the way their body recoiled as if it was ashamed of the moment. They tried to pull away, their voice barely above a whisper.

"I’m sorry... I don’t want to bother you with this. It’s just... I don’t know what happened. It came out of nowhere."

Jayce tightened his hold on them, not letting them go. "Hey," he said softly but firmly, tilting their chin up so that their eyes met his. "You’re not bothering me. You’re not a burden."

Y/N swallowed hard, their eyes filling with self-consciousness. "I... I don’t like this. I don’t like how weak I feel."

Jayce’s heart ached at the sight of them like this. They were always so strong, so calm under pressure, and seeing them like this—it wasn’t something he was used to. But he wasn’t going to let them feel alone.

"You’re not weak, Y/N," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You’re human. And humans have their moments. You don’t have to be perfect all the time. Not with me."

Y/N sniffled, a bitter laugh escaping their lips. "It feels like I should be stronger. I’ve been through worse before, and yet—"

Jayce cut them off, his hands gently cupping their face. "It’s okay to have moments when you're not okay. It doesn't make you any less strong. I’m here, alright? You don’t have to hide from me."

For a long moment, Y/N simply stared at him, their breath slowing, the shaking in their hands gradually easing. Then, they nodded, their forehead resting against his chest. "Thank you," they whispered, their voice thick with emotion. "I... I just feel so ashamed of it."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," Jayce murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of their head. "We all need help sometimes. And you don’t have to go through this alone."

Slowly, the panic attack subsided, but the emotional weight of the moment lingered. Y/N clung to Jayce as if grounding themselves in his presence, and he didn’t let go. He stayed there, wrapped around them, offering what comfort he could until they felt ready to speak again.

"I love you," Jayce said quietly, his words a reassurance more than a confession. "And I’m not going anywhere."

Y/N squeezed their eyes shut, a few tears slipping free. "I love you too," they whispered back, finding solace in his steady warmth.

VIKTOR

The laboratory was quiet, the soft hum of machines and the occasional click of gears filling the air, each sound a constant companion in Viktor's world. The evening light filtered through the tall windows of the Piltover workshop, casting long shadows across the room where Viktor was hunched over a workbench, his brow furrowed in concentration. His cane rested just within arm’s reach, leaning against the side, waiting patiently for when he would need it next.

Y/N stood nearby, watching him work, their gaze soft and affectionate. They adored these moments—the calm ones. The ones where Viktor was so lost in his creations that the world around him seemed to fade away. His brilliance, his unwavering dedication to his work, never failed to captivate them. They couldn’t help but smile as they observed him, the way his fingers moved with precision, the way he seemed to pour all of his focus into every movement.

In these moments, there was peace. And for them, that peace felt like safety. Even in the high-tech, often volatile world of Piltover, with all its politics and power struggles, there was something about being with Viktor that made them feel like the world outside didn’t matter. They trusted him completely.

But today, something felt different. The familiar flutter in their chest that they’d been trying to ignore had turned into something more unsettling, a constant pressure building inside them. Their heart was racing, a feeling they couldn’t quite shake. At first, it was subtle—just a nagging unease, like a whisper at the back of their mind. Then, it began to grow. It crept into their throat, tight and suffocating, and with every breath, it seemed to get worse.

Their thoughts were scattered, too fast to follow, each one feeding into the next. They couldn’t make sense of them, couldn’t find an anchor to steady themselves. The pressure in their chest increased, and they felt lightheaded, dizzy. The world around them began to blur, the edges of their vision fading in and out like the static of a broken machine.

They stumbled backward, their legs unsteady beneath them. Panic surged through them as they reached out, their hand grazing the nearest countertop to catch themselves. They could hear their own breathing, sharp and shallow, like they were gasping for air. Their pulse quickened, a frantic drumbeat in their ears, drowning out everything else. They couldn’t control it. They couldn’t slow down.

“Y/N?” Viktor’s voice pierced through the overwhelming noise of their thoughts. It was soft but urgent, filled with concern. He turned from his workbench, his sharp eyes instantly locking onto them, noting the way they were swaying, unsteady. “What’s wrong?”

Their breath hitched, and for a moment, they couldn’t answer. They wanted to say something—anything—to reassure him, but the words were trapped in their throat. They felt the sting of shame, knowing that he could see it in their eyes, the panic they were struggling to hide. Why now? Why in front of him?

“I—I’m fine,” they stammered, forcing themself to speak, though their voice cracked. They took a shaky step forward, but their legs felt like they might give way. “I just… I don’t know what’s happening.”

Viktor’s expression softened, his concern deepening. Without hesitation, he dropped his cane to the floor, his hands reaching out to steady them. His touch was gentle but firm, a lifeline in the storm of their mind. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t demand answers. He simply guided them, his other hand resting on their shoulder with an unwavering sense of calm.

“Y/N, breathe,” Viktor murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Slow down. You’re safe. I’m here.”

His words were grounding, and yet, the panic inside them wouldn’t subside. Their chest felt tight, as if a vice were squeezing the air out of their lungs. They tried to breathe, to follow his instructions, but each breath was shallow, too quick. The feeling of suffocation only grew stronger.

Viktor’s face softened even further, and he moved to help them sit down, his hand guiding them gently to a nearby chair. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if every action was meant to offer them the security they needed. He kneeled in front of them, his cane forgotten in the corner of the room, and looked up at them with an intensity that made their heart ache.

He could see the shame in their eyes, the way they shrank into themself. They didn’t need to say it; he understood the unspoken words. They were embarrassed. They didn’t want to be vulnerable, didn’t want him to see them like this. Viktor’s heart clenched at the thought, and he couldn’t bear to see them struggle alone.

“Moje srdce, listen to me,” he said, his voice unwavering, full of quiet strength. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be perfect, not for me.” (My Heart)

They wanted to argue, to apologize, to say that they should’ve been stronger, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, they sat there, their body trembling as their breath continued to come in sharp, desperate gasps. The shame they felt wasn’t just about the panic, but the feeling of being weak. It was as though they were failing him, failing themself. But Viktor didn’t seem to mind.

Slowly, Viktor reached for their hand, his grip steady as he wrapped his fingers around theirs. His touch was firm but gentle, as though offering his strength to help steady them. His thumb began to trace soothing circles over the back of their hand, the movement slow and deliberate. He didn’t rush them. He simply sat with them, offering his presence, letting them know they weren’t alone in the darkness of their thoughts.

The silence between them was comforting, and though the panic didn’t vanish immediately, Y/N could feel their breathing starting to even out. The wild rush of their thoughts began to slow, the storm inside them becoming more manageable.

Minutes passed, though it felt like an eternity. Viktor never once let go of their hand, never once looked away. He simply stayed there, kneeling before them, his gaze soft, filled with an understanding that made them feel safe.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, their voice quiet, fragile. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to fall apart like this.”

Viktor shook his head gently, his thumb continuing its slow, calming motion against their skin. “You don’t need to apologize to me,” he said, his voice warm. “You’re human, Y/N. We all have our moments. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

His words, simple and yet so full of care, eased the last of the tightness in their chest. They looked at him, their eyes meeting his, and for the first time since the panic had set in, they didn’t feel afraid. They felt his love, his unwavering support, as steady as the ground beneath them.

“Thank you,” they whispered, their voice finally steadier.

Viktor smiled, a small, reassuring smile, and his gaze softened. “Always, moje láska. Always.” (My Love)

And in that moment, with Viktor beside them, his presence unwavering, Y/N finally felt safe enough to let the lingering tension go. The panic might return at some point, but with Viktor by their side, they knew they would never have to face it alone.

JAYVIK

In the soft, dimly lit room that Viktor had claimed as his workshop, the air was thick with the scent of oil, metal, and the subtle, comforting hum of machines at work. The atmosphere, usually one of quiet concentration, felt strangely heavy tonight, as though the very walls were pressing in on Y/N. They sat on the edge of a worn-out chair, their hands twisting together in anxious rhythm, eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other, never able to focus for more than a fleeting moment. Their heart raced, thumping loudly in their chest, and their breath came in quick, shallow gasps, as if the air itself was far too thick to breathe.

It was an unfamiliar feeling—this creeping panic that gripped their chest, squeezing tighter with each passing second. They tried to take slow, deliberate breaths, but their body betrayed them, shaking uncontrollably. Every muscle felt tense, coiled, ready to snap at the slightest movement. The room seemed to stretch in every direction, its once-familiar surroundings now closing in, and the hum of the machines, usually a source of comfort and rhythm, was an oppressive force in their mind.

Y/N squeezed their eyes shut for a moment, willing the sensation to pass, but it didn’t. They wanted to scream, to let the storm inside them out, but they were trapped—trapped in their own head, where the world seemed too loud and too heavy to handle. They hated this feeling, hated how vulnerable they felt, how utterly lost they were in the chaos of their own mind. Their hands clenched and unclenched in their lap, fingers growing sore from the tension, and still, they couldn’t stop the tremors. The shame was suffocating, and the more they tried to force themselves to calm down, the harder it became.

Viktor, leaning heavily on his cane, observed them from across the room, his expression softening with concern. He knew Y/N’s tendencies—how they kept their worries hidden, buried beneath a calm exterior. They were always the one who held everything together, silently bearing the weight of the world, protecting those around them. But tonight, something was different. They were shaking. Their breath was coming in uneven gasps, their body trembling, and Viktor could see the vulnerability they fought so hard to conceal.

"Y/N," Viktor’s voice was quiet, laced with care, as he took a tentative step forward. His cane clicked softly against the floor, but his eyes never left Y/N. “Look at me, láska.” (Love)

Y/N’s gaze flickered towards him, their eyes wide and glassy, filled with panic, guilt, and something far more fragile than they cared to admit. They wanted to respond, to say something that would make sense of what they were feeling, but the words wouldn’t come. They opened their mouth, but all that escaped was a shaky breath, and the pit in their stomach deepened. “I’m sorry,” they whispered, their voice barely audible. The words felt like a betrayal, a weight that added to the burden they already carried. “I don’t want to be like this… I shouldn’t be—”

“Hey, hey.” Jayce’s voice, steady and firm, cut through the tension, grounding Y/N with its calm certainty. His figure filled the doorway, arms crossed in that familiar stance of controlled strength, but his expression was softened, the usual sternness replaced with concern. He studied Y/N, his eyes tracing the subtle tremors of their hands and the way they hunched in on themselves, like they were trying to shrink away from the world. “None of that, alright? You don’t have to apologize for this. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.”

Viktor nodded in agreement, his gaze never straying from Y/N’s face. “You don’t need to be ashamed of this. We all have moments like this.” His words were slow and deliberate, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his tone. Slowly, he moved closer, taking careful steps, as though afraid of overwhelming them further. He reached out, his hand settling gently on Y/N’s shoulder, a silent reassurance that they weren’t alone. “You’re not weak. You’re certainly not alone. Whatever this is, we’ll get through it together.”

Y/N’s breath caught in their throat, their chest tightening once again. They tried to speak, to explain the overwhelming storm inside them, but the words were lost. It was like the chaos inside them had locked every door and thrown away the key. The weight of the pressure in their chest felt unbearable, as though the room itself had become a suffocating cage. Their eyes flickered between Viktor and Jayce, desperate for something—anything—that would make the storm inside them stop, but the words failed them. The longer they stayed silent, the louder the storm inside them became, each breath more shallow and labored than the last.

Jayce didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his presence a steadying force that anchored them to the here and now. His hand brushed lightly against theirs, a soft, grounding gesture. “Take your time,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “We’re right here. No rush.”

Y/N closed their eyes, trying to focus on the sensation of Viktor’s hand on their shoulder and Jayce’s quiet support beside them. The panic didn’t disappear instantly, but Viktor’s calm voice pierced through the fog of their mind. “Breathe with me, Sweetheart. In and out. Slowly. Just like that.” His voice was low, soft, but strong with a steady rhythm that pulled them into something resembling focus.

They inhaled shakily, the breath burning in their chest as they fought to find a rhythm. Viktor’s touch was warm and grounding, his presence unwavering. Jayce’s steady gaze remained close, the comfort of knowing that they weren’t alone anchoring them further. The storm inside them didn’t disappear, but it softened, becoming more distant with each breath.

Their chest tightened again, and for a moment, the urge to pull away— to isolate themselves—was almost overwhelming. But Viktor’s hand remained steady on their shoulder, and Jayce’s presence lingered like a soft, constant hum. Y/N exhaled shakily, their breath slightly steadier now, and the overwhelming need to push them away began to fade. They didn’t pull away. Instead, they allowed themselves to rest into Viktor’s touch, finding something resembling peace in the comfort of his presence.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, their voice cracking as they met Viktor’s gaze. The words were shaky, but they were sincere. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry…”

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor said firmly, his voice holding a quiet, unwavering strength. His thumb gently brushed over their cheek, a soothing motion meant to steady them. “You don’t have to hide this from us. You’re human. You’re allowed to feel. We’re here to help you through it, no matter what.”

Jayce, standing just a few feet away, nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He stepped closer again, resting his hand gently on Y/N’s knee. His expression softened further, his usual guarded demeanor melting into something far more vulnerable and supportive. “Exactly. And we’re not going anywhere.” His voice, usually a bit more gruff, was quiet now, filled with a tenderness that caught Y/N off guard.

For a long moment, they stayed in silence, the air still and warm, punctuated only by the sound of their breath evening out. Slowly, the tension in Y/N’s body began to dissolve, the panic that had consumed them lessening with each passing second. Their hands, which had been shaking so violently only moments before, steadied, and their breath—though still somewhat shallow—was no longer ragged.

Y/N’s voice was still shaky, but more steady now as they whispered, “I don’t know what I’d do without you both.” Their words were barely above a whisper, but the gratitude in them was undeniable.

Viktor smiled softly, his thumb continuing to stroke their cheek in a rhythmic, soothing gesture. “You never have to find out,” he said, his voice warm and firm, yet gentle. “We’re always here.”

Jayce gave a soft chuckle, crossing the room to sit beside them. He nudged Y/N’s knee with his own in a light-hearted gesture, the familiarity of the action helping to ease the last remnants of tension. “We’re a team, remember? You don’t have to go through anything alone.”

Y/N exhaled a long, steady breath, the weight on their chest now a distant echo. The panic, though not entirely gone, had quieted into something manageable. The room, once suffocating and overwhelming, now felt safe, comfortable even. They allowed themselves to lean into Viktor’s touch, feeling the warmth of his hand, and welcomed Jayce’s calming presence by their side. Together, they had given them the strength to face down the panic that had threatened to consume them.

“Together,” Viktor echoed, his voice steady and reassuring as he met their gaze, his hand never leaving their shoulder. His words, simple but profound, rang with the certainty of someone who had made a lifelong promise. “We’re always together”

In that moment, the storm inside Y/N had quieted enough for them to hear it—deep down, beyond the overwhelming emotions and the panic. They weren’t alone. Not anymore. And no matter what came next, they had Viktor. They had Jayce. And together, they would face whatever came their way.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they allowed themselves to rest, knowing that they were safe, supported, and loved. And that, more than anything, was enough to silence the last remnants of their panic.

VANDER

The heavy door of the Last Drop groaned shut behind you, sealing the chaos of Zaun outside — but the noise wasn’t just out there. It rattled inside you too, bouncing off the walls of your ribs, clawing at the fragile seams of your mind. Your chest tightened, every breath dragging like it weighed a thousand pounds.

The crowd blurred together — bodies, voices, movement — all too close, too loud, too much.

You stumbled toward the back of the bar, desperate for space, for quiet. The familiar warmth of the place, usually a comfort, pressed down on you now like a cage. You barely made it to one of the darker corners before your legs gave out under you, and you sank hard onto the bench against the wall.

Your hands started trembling uncontrollably, fingers clawing uselessly at the worn wood of the table.

Breathe. Just breathe.

You told yourself the words over and over, but the air around you felt too thick, like syrup in your lungs. Every inhale caught halfway, shallow and ragged. Your heartbeat thundered so loudly it drowned out everything else — conversations, clinking glasses, even the music from the old, battered jukebox.

The world tilted sickeningly. Colors dulled, edges blurred. It was like being trapped under rushing water, watching everything move and breathe without you.

You didn’t even realize you were gasping until a large, familiar hand landed gently on your shoulder.

"Hey... hey, easy now," Vander’s voice rumbled low, steady, cutting through the storm with surprising gentleness.

You flinched at the touch at first — raw nerves snapping — but the weight of his hand was warm, solid, real. You forced your head up, blinking hard through the sting in your eyes, only to immediately turn your face away, shame burning hotter than the panic itself.

You didn’t want him to see you like this — wrecked and brittle and shaking apart.

"I'm fine," you rasped out, the words barely audible, barely believable even to yourself.

Vander didn’t argue. He didn’t crowd you. He didn’t tell you to get up, or to pull yourself together. He just crouched down beside you, settling low so he could meet you at eye level. His hand never left your shoulder, thumb moving in small, steady circles.

"Alright," he said quietly, like he truly meant it. Like your words were enough. And then, after a heartbeat: "Mind if I just sit here with you, then?"

The tears came unbidden — not hot and heavy, but quiet, frustrated, clinging stubbornly to the corners of your eyes. You squeezed them shut, willing yourself to regain control, but the panic wouldn’t be wrestled down by sheer force of will.

You hated this. Hated feeling weak. Hated that Vander — Vander — the man who carried the weight of the Lanes on his back, who shielded so many others with nothing but his fists and stubborn heart — had to see you crumbling like this.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice breaking on the edges, a whisper more full of defeat than anything else.

Vander’s reaction was immediate and fierce, but not in anger — in protectiveness. His rough, calloused hand moved to your chin, lifting your face with the same care he’d handle something precious. His brows furrowed deep, storm-grey eyes locking onto yours.

"Don’t you dare," he said, voice thick and low, almost a growl. "Don’t you ever apologize for feelin’ somethin’."

The way he said it — like it was a law he expected you to follow — knocked something loose in your chest. You tried to laugh it off, tried to shake your head and wipe your tears away, but it cracked and broke halfway through. A broken sound escaped your throat instead, halfway between a sob and a laugh.

Before you could retreat further into yourself, Vander leaned in, wrapping his arms around you in a strong, encompassing hug. It wasn’t a hesitant gesture — he held you like he meant it, like he wasn’t going anywhere no matter how messy or broken you felt.

You stiffened at first, panic still a wild thing under your skin. But slowly, carefully, you let yourself lean into him, pressing your face against the worn leather of his vest. His scent wrapped around you — smoke, old steel, a faint trace of soap — grounding, familiar, safe.

"You ain't weak," Vander murmured against your hair, voice low and certain, a rumble you could feel as much as hear. "You’re human. There’s not a damn thing wrong with that."

He tightened his hold around you just slightly, arms bracing you, shielding you from the world like it was nothing. Like it was instinct.

"And you’re mine," he added fiercely, voice raw and tender all at once, like a promise stitched right into your bones. "That’s not somethin’ you need to be ashamed of, alright? Not with me."

The panic didn’t vanish. It wasn’t some miracle cure. It still flickered under your skin, stubborn and aching. But the worst of the roaring in your head began to quiet, soothed by the steady beat of Vander’s heart against your cheek — a slow, solid drum calling you back to yourself.

You sat there for a long time, just breathing with him. No rush. No expectations. Just the quiet knowledge that you were safe, that Vander would keep sitting there as long as you needed.

Eventually, when the trembling started to ease and the air no longer felt like it was trying to choke you, you shifted a little, pulling back just enough to look up at him. His eyes met yours without a hint of judgment — only worry, and something even heavier threaded behind it. Something like love.

"You don’t have to carry it alone," Vander said quietly, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face with surprising gentleness for a man built like a mountain. "Not when you’ve got me."

You opened your mouth to argue — old habits, old pride — but the look on his face stopped you. Instead, you swallowed thickly and leaned your forehead against his with a shaky exhale.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Vander smiled, soft and a little sad around the edges, and pulled you closer again.

"Always," he said. "Always, sweetheart."

And this time, when you closed your eyes, the panic didn’t drag you under. It passed — slow and stubborn, but it passed — and when it did, Vander was still there, holding you like he wasn’t going to let go.

Like it was nothing at all.

SILCO

The office was dim, heavy with the scent of old smoke, ink, and the faint chemical tang of Zaun’s polluted air. Only the faint, uneven glow of the city's sickly green lights filtered through the dirty windows, casting long, broken shadows across the room.

The only sound was the low, methodical scrape of Silco’s pen against parchment, the faint crinkle of paper as he made precise notes and signatures. He leaned forward into the lamplight, his expression impassive, brow furrowed in deep concentration.

You sat across from him, perched stiffly on a worn leather chair. Your hands twisted restlessly in your lap, fingers knotting together, trying to will the rising panic back down into the pit of your stomach where it belonged.

It had started small — a dull knot under your ribs, a slight tightness in your chest. You told yourself it would pass.

It always passed.

But tonight, it grew faster than you could contain it.

The walls of the office seemed to press closer, crowding the space around you. The light from the window dimmed further, or maybe your vision was narrowing. Every scratch of Silco’s pen against the page sounded loud, almost unbearably loud, a grating reminder that you were sitting there useless, trembling, breaking apart.

You pressed your palms hard into your thighs, nails biting into the fabric of your trousers — into skin. Pain was grounding. It usually helped.

Silco hadn’t noticed yet. Good. The last thing you wanted was to seem weak in front of him — him, of all people. You shouldn’t be like this. Not here, not now.

You fought for air, but every breath felt thinner than the last, shallow and quick. Your heart hammered against your ribs, wild and painful. It felt like you were choking on nothing, drowning in a room that wasn’t even full.

Tears pricked at your eyes, the sting hot and humiliating. You blinked hard, staring down at the floor, willing yourself to keep it together.

A chair creaked.

You froze. Slowly, you lifted your head.

Silco had straightened in his seat, the pen abandoned on the desk beside him. His good eye was locked onto you, sharp and assessing, the milky haze of the other lost in the shadows. He didn’t speak immediately, studying you in that unsettling way he always did — as if he could see every thought, every crack in your armour.

"Darling," he said at last, voice low and even. "What’s wrong?"

You shook your head quickly, too quickly, the motion making you dizzy.

"Nothing," you managed to croak, your voice barely more than a breath. "I’m fine. Just tired. I—" The words collapsed in your throat, swallowed by the panic that clamped tighter around your chest.

Silco rose from his chair with a measured calm, moving around the desk with slow, deliberate steps. He didn’t rush. He never rushed. His patience made the shame burn hotter under your skin.

You dropped your gaze back to the floor, your shoulders hunching as if to make yourself smaller, less seen. You hated this. You hated being fragile, hated that he had to see you like this — falling apart, trembling, unable to even breathe properly.

Silco came to a stop in front of you. And then, in a movement so rare it stunned you into stillness, he knelt. The Chembaron of Zaun, kneeling.

His gloved hand found yours where it twisted and shook against your knee. His touch was steady, firm but not forceful, grounding.

"You’re not fine," he said, almost gently. His thumb brushed across your knuckles, slow and deliberate. "You’re panicking."

You squeezed your eyes shut, humiliated. A tear slipped free before you could stop it, cutting a hot track down your cheek.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, the words breaking against your teeth. "I’m so sorry." You felt so weak — so pathetic. Silco’s fingers curled more firmly around yours, anchoring you.

"Don’t apologize," he said, voice low but resolute. "Not to me. Never to me"

His words cracked against the walls you were trying to rebuild around yourself. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that this — this shaking, breathless, ugly side of yourself — wouldn’t change the way he looked at you.

But the guilt clung stubbornly to your ribs, heavy and suffocating.

He stayed there, kneeling, steady and immovable as bedrock, giving you his silence — his presence — without demanding anything from you. Without trying to fix you or scold you into composure. He was just there.

Minutes passed. Your breathing slowed, shaky but deepening, as if you were slowly learning how to draw air into your lungs again. Because he was there. Because he hadn’t turned away.

When you finally lifted your head, it was tentative — half-expecting some flicker of disappointment in his face.

But there was none. Silco watched you with a strange softness few ever saw. His ruined face, so often twisted in ruthless determination, was quiet now, almost reverent. No judgment. No anger. Just a patience that made your throat ache.

"Better?" he asked, his voice softer than you thought possible from him.

You nodded stiffly, not trusting your voice yet. He reached up then, his fingers brushing the side of your face with the backs of his knuckles, catching the tear track there. His touch was cool from the leather, but so tender you almost wept all over again.

"You are allowed to fall apart," Silco said, his voice a low growl full of something you couldn't quite name — something fierce, something unshakable. "I will be here when you do." Something inside your chest cracked open at his words.

Not painfully. It was almost… freeing. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

The fabric of his coat was coarse against your skin, but you didn’t care. You needed to feel something real. Needed to feel him. Silco stiffened, just for a moment — then his arms came around you.

One hand splayed across your back, fingers firm and solid. The other rose to cradle the back of your head, holding you carefully, like you were something rare and irreplaceable.

For a man who ruled Zaun with iron and fire, who struck fear into the hearts of his enemies, Silco’s embrace was astonishingly gentle. Protective.

"You are not weak," he murmured into your hair, the words vibrating through you. "Not to me." You shuddered against him, overwhelmed, but this time it wasn't fear driving it. "I’ve got you," a promise, not a comfort. "And I won’t let go."

And somehow, for the first time that night, you believed him.

SEVIKA

The bar was crowded, loud — the kind of place where nobody looked too closely at anyone else. Usually, you liked that about the Last Drop. It gave you space to breathe. To exist without feeling like you were under a microscope.

But tonight, the air was different. It pressed down heavy against your chest, thick with smoke and the cloying smell of spilled beer. The crowd wasn’t a blur anymore — every laugh felt sharp, every bump and shove like a personal attack. Bodies closed in around you, a tide you couldn't fight. The noise seemed to live inside your skull, rattling your thoughts loose.

You barely heard Sevika say she was stepping away to grab another drink, her rough voice almost lost to the din. Normally, that wouldn't have bothered you. But the moment her presence disappeared from your side, a coil of panic snapped tight in your chest.

The first breath you tried to take hit a wall in your lungs. The second came too shallow, too fast. Your hands started to tremble, your fingers curling instinctively into fists at your sides as if you could physically fight it off.

You stumbled away from the press of people, weaving toward the darker edges of the room. You found a grimy wall in a half-lit corner and pressed yourself against it, fingers scrabbling at the cracked plaster like you could anchor yourself somehow.

Not here. Not now.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block everything out — the noise, the smoke, the crowd, the heat crawling up your neck. You tried to breathe, but it was like sucking in air through a straw, desperate and useless.

You didn’t want anyone to see you like this. You especially didn’t want her to see you like this. Strong, unshakable Sevika.

The person who could fight off half a room with just her glare. What would she think, seeing you fall apart over... nothing? Over a crowd and some smoke?

Your heart slammed painfully against your ribs, and your legs buckled just enough that you slid down the wall a few inches, your palms pressed flat against it for balance. A whimper escaped your throat before you could choke it back.

And then — heavy footsteps. A shadow falling across you. A voice, low and steady, cutting clean through the roaring panic.

"Hey."

A hand touched your shoulder — big, calloused, warm — anchoring you instantly. You knew that hand. You would know it anywhere.

Sevika.

"Look at me, sweetheart," she said, her tone softer than the words themselves. Not a demand. A tether.

You tried. You wanted to.

But the pressure in your chest only got worse when you tried to lift your head. It felt like you were being crushed from the inside out. A broken, strangled gasp tore from your throat instead. Humiliation scorched your skin as you buried your face in your shaking hands, wishing you could simply disappear.

Sevika didn’t push. Didn’t scold. Didn’t walk away.

Instead, she stepped in closer, her body a shield against the chaos of the bar. One arm braced above you on the wall, boxing you in, while her other hand slid to your back, rubbing slow, steady circles between your shoulder blades.

"Breathe with me, okay?" she said, her voice dropping into that low rumble she used when she really meant it. "In... out... nice and slow. You're alright. I'm right here."

It wasn’t easy. Your breaths were still shaky, still ragged, but you grabbed onto the sound of her voice like a lifeline. You matched the rhythm she set, her chest rising and falling with exaggerated slowness to guide you.

Seconds stretched out painfully. The world didn’t fix itself all at once. But inch by inch, the roaring tide receded. Your muscles, locked tight with panic, started to unclench. The weight crushing your ribs lessened just enough that you could suck in a deeper breath.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes. Couldn’t face whatever you might find there — disappointment, confusion, maybe even pity. The thought made fresh shame well up in your throat.

"I’m sorry," you rasped, voice cracked and raw. "I didn’t — I didn’t mean to ruin the night."

For a moment, Sevika was quiet. Then a low huff of breath left her — half a scoff, half a fond growl — and you felt her hand curl more firmly around the back of your neck, grounding you even more.

"Ruin it?" she said, her thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin. "You think I give a shit about a few drinks and loud music?"

Finally — reluctantly — you lifted your head. Tears blurred your vision, but Sevika was clear enough: tall, solid, her scarred face tilted down toward you with an expression that hit you harder than any words could.

There was no pity in her eyes. No anger. Just stubborn, relentless affection.

You shook your head miserably, fresh tears spilling over. "I just... I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m supposed to be—" You choked on the word, feeling ridiculous. "Stronger."

Sevika’s touch gentled even more, her rough thumb brushing away a tear before it could fall. She leaned down, her forehead nearly resting against yours.

"Like what?" she murmured. "Human?"

The heat of her breath mingled with yours. You could smell the smoke clinging to her clothes, the metallic tang of oil and leather and something else — something uniquely her.

"Baby," she said, voice low and fierce in a way that made your chest ache, "you don't have to hide from me. Not this. Not anything."

Your last shred of resistance crumbled. You sagged forward, resting your forehead against her chest. Sevika didn’t hesitate — she caught you easily, her arms wrapping around you like armour, like safety itself.

You could hear her heartbeat now, slow and steady against your ear. A rhythmic reminder that you weren't alone. You weren’t broken. You weren’t too much.

"You’re alright," she whispered into your hair, lips brushing your temple. "I’ve got you. I'm not goin’ anywhere."

Her hand slid up and down your spine, slow and soothing. She murmured little things you could barely catch — soft words, swears, nicknames she only ever used when you were alone.

And for the first time that night, you let yourself believe her. You clung to her — not because you were weak, but because she was your home.

And Sevika, rough-edged and battle-scarred, held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

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gay-dorito-dust · 12 hours ago

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We need more bitting for those silly goofs 🙏your last one made me think about it the entire day !!! if possible this time pre relationship 🤔 bless ya cause you re pumping dmc content like your life depends on it and I'm loving it ♥️♥️♥️♥️

the fic that annon is referencing is right here:

The fic

Dante

Biting can still be a thing that happens with Dante before your relationship, but I think that it’s more playful and stupid, such as him asking you to bite him harder to see whether he could handle it.

His demon side could definitely handle the hardest of bites you could possibly muster, but his human side cannot obviously. He’s dramatic as fuck about it but then again it’s Dante, when is he not dramatic about something.

‘You almost bit my finger off!’ He cries.

‘You’re a half demon, you can heal.’ You reminded him and he stops acting as though he’s in indescribable pain.

‘Oh yeah I can.’ He then stares at the finger that was now fully healed from your bite mark, wiggling it for the sake of wiggling his finger and smiling.

‘I fucking hate you.’ You say.

‘I’d say that’s the first step to slowly getting you to admire you like me.’ Dante retorts and you’re left wondering how this red coated fool could even be allowed to be like that in general, all the while fighting back a smile of your own. You had to admit the man had charm.

He only nibbled on your fingers, but still this is only playful and doesn’t mean any more than that, playful.

Biting between you two wasn’t seen as a claim or anything, it was seen as something as silly and goofy and something you did when there was nothing better to do then bother the other person. Biting is a form of fun for you both pre and post relationship that wasn’t in any way sexual, not at all, just something that is done when one or the other is bored.

He will still probably fake moan as well because again it’s Dante, he’ll try to publicly humiliate you whenever possible for a laugh you can share about later.

Vergil

There’s most likely no chance in hell that Vergil would bite you or you bite him pre-relationship.

After all biting is more of a claiming of something that’s already been pre-established between two demons, a reminder to all that they were taken and a challenge for those who never get the message. That’s how it is in his demon brain.

So him biting you before a relationship isn’t something he’s willing to do at all, he’ll most likely still be looking at ways to win you over however he can, whether that’s through poetry and notes of any kind or just being within your presences whenever he could.

If Vergil has interest in you then biting is the last thing he’d do when there’s other ways of winning your affections, of winning you over such as showing off his strength during combat, or taking care of the demons causing you the most issues and piling them in front of you in hopes of praises or acknowledging of his power.

Though while biting is off the table, scenting is not, he will scent any clothing you may have in hopes that other demons or humans will know that you were already within the sights of another, that and they should fuck off if they didn’t wish to meet an unfortunate end. The image of him scenting your stuff is enough to have him embarrassed to how low he has stooped in order to hopeful claim a partner/mate of his own, but also a taxing time as he was trying to make sure every inch of your clothes had his scent and only his.

If he found you with a scent that wasn’t his? He’s re-scenting your entire wardrobe until it was gone and replaced by him. It’s bothersome as it was tiresome but Vergil knew it would be worth it in the long run, for your protection and progression of your future relationship.

He has other ways of staking claim to things that are his or will be his in future.

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dragonner0 · 2 days ago

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I was gonna put this in tags but it got to long so get some unfiltered opinions loser.

As someone who writes and is learning to draw, and has played with generative algorithms a bit and knows how they work, Fuck 'AI'.

I see people be praised for 'AI' products, I saw someone say that it is a lot of work to find a good product, and the best metaphor I can think of that these people will understand is that I am a chef, even if armature or learning, and I am watching dishes I pour my heart and soul into get less recognition than someone presenting a re-heated pizza.

I start, often from scratch, when I create my works. I build from the ground up a dish I would be well happy to eat. Heck, even if I follow recipes(using refs or pre-existing writing prompts), I am still putting in the effort to make it good and, more importantly, I am making it with my own two fucking hands. I mix the dough, I spread the sauce, I cut the toppings.

But with 'AI'? With 'AI' you do not make anything. You walk to the store, you choose something that sounds appetizing, and then you chuck it in the oven for a few minutes till it's hot and ready to eat. And then you have the audacity to claim that you made the product? You did not knead the dough. You did not grate the cheese. You did not dice the toppings. And yet you believe that you can simply stand as an equal alongside us?

What that tells me is several things.

First, you view that pizza as a product. Not a meal, not an expression, but a product. And perhaps, in some cases, it is. You see it as not worth the effort of creating, and as such, you do not see other's creations as anything worth the work of creating.

Second, you see yourself as on equal measure of true chefs for doing a job that is not only less expressive, but also less intensive, less stressful, and less rewarding. For defrosting a pizza, you see yourself as worth the praise and respect and even the profit of a hobby or profession that real chefs might spend substantial portions of our lives working to perfect.

And third and final, you do not see any worth in learning to cook anything. You see us perusing our passions as wastes of time. You see our art style as a gimmick. You see us so proud in our progress from early projects, even if some of them may never see the light of day, and you think that there is nothing to be proud of there, only the simple fact that you get to consume our product and move on.

And it is in the last sense specifically that I think you really are undeserving of calling yourself equals to us. All but a few of us are accepting of your mistakes, offering tips or guides or even just other books to read and be inspired by. But you do not accept all of this, and instead you turn to 'AI' to create things for you. You do not pick up a pencil or use any of the countless recourses available to you, for free and with extensive guidance, you go to an algorithm to create it for you. And then you expect that you deserve the same merit for telling a machine what to create.

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

#Nabbed #Fuck AI

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hyruling · 3 days ago

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For the domestic prompt - buddie, 'a spare room'?

combined with 9. books stacked on a nightstand

---

The house is fine.

Definitely better than the glimpses Buck would get on FaceTime in those first few weeks. The wallpaper is gone, replaced with a nice shade of blue paint. The grout in the kitchen is sparkling, the sink faucets replaced with something from this century, and the floors are — well, a work in progress. But they’re covered with nice rugs, and Eddie’s scattered some fake plants around, added some pictures to the walls and mantle. It’s nice. Cozy, but strangely devoid of Eddie. It doesn’t have the same lived-in feel as the house in LA, doesn’t have the knickknacks picked up at various zoo trips or baseball games or homemade projects from Chris’ school. He hasn’t asked, but he can assume Eddie has them stored away somewhere, waiting to be unpacked when the rest of the house is done.

He can acknowledge his bias though. Eddie could own a thousand houses, and none of them would make him feel like the way the one on South Bedford does. Still, he compliments Eddie’s hard work, following Eddie around as he’s given the grand tour.

And Eddie — well, Buck doesn’t quite know what to think about Eddie, who’s been fluttering around him like a skittish animal since they pulled into the driveway.

“How’s the setup?” Eddie asks.

Buck turns. Eddie’s hovering in the doorway of the spare room, wringing his hands together. It’s small, just a bed with an end table and a lamp. In the corner is a small chest of drawers it looks like Eddie picked up at Goodwill — in good shape but definitely used. There’s a fake cactus on the dresser beneath a nice mirror. Eddie is chewing his lip, staring at him like he’s a judge on Rock the Block and is about to send Eddie home.

“Great,” Buck answers.

He drops his duffel on the bed and notices the sunflower painting above the bed. It used to hang in the bathroom in LA, between the shower and the toilet. It was his favorite of Eddie’s odd collection of artwork, and he used to tease him about purposefully keeping it in the bathroom just to spite him.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, it looks great Eddie. You really didn’t have to get a whole bed just for me,” Buck adds, scratching the back of his neck.

Eddie shrugs like it’s nothing, but there’s a faint flush on his cheeks. “It’s not—it’s a guest room. I would have gotten one anyway. For other guests too, so.”

Continue reading on AO3

#my fic #buddie fic #911 abc #i was going to tag this as drabbles but she is almost 4k. hence why i put it on ao3 lmaooo #anywayyyy one more 'buck visits eddie' fic before daddy long dick lands back in la xoxo

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delusionalbitchinthehouse · 9 hours ago

Text

I don't usually write the Papas a lot but i wanted to explore the dynamic between Copia and Perpetua so. There.

"What the fuck are you doing here."

"Hello to you too," Perpetua snorts, pushing past Copia and into the temporary office he's been holed up in.

"Its two in the morning."

Perpetua shrugs, looking around. He avoids the painted eyes of the woman he never knew to be his mother, represses a shiver when it gets him to accidentally meet those of his father's portrait instead. Same eyes as his, same as the twin brother glaring daggers at his back.

"Tour starts in two days. You should rest."

Copia's toned is clipped, his worry directed at the quality of the show Perpetua will have to put on rather than the man himself. Can't really blame him. The new Papa grabs a black and white rat scurrying on the armchair he set his eyes on and plops down in it, curiously holding the squirmy creature at eye level.

"What-" Copia squeaks, "what are you doing ? Set her down !"

Perpetua pets the soft furr on top of the little thing's head, unbothered. Copia makes an aborted move to reach for his beloved pet, but Perpetua keeps her close to his chest.

"Your ghoul bit me," he hums conversationally, deciding to let the rat go for Copia's blood pressure' sake. Relieved, the man deflates, sinks into the cushions of the couch facing Perpetua.

"Which one ?"

"The one that wants my head on a spike."

Copia's chuckle surprises both of them, hangs heavy in the following silence. He clears his throat.

"...doesn't narrow it down much."

Perpetua tugs a glove off, nods toward the teeth imprint, jarring against pale skin.

"Had to get a new pair of gloves, he tore right through them. I hope he's not venemous."

Copia shakes his head, tugging his collar open with a tired sigh.

"The only one who's venemous is Pebble, and it's more a sedative than an actual life-threatening venom. What did you do to piss Dew off anyway ?"

Perpetua glares at Copia with an indignant huff, crossing his arm petulantly.

"I did absolutely nothing, that ghoul just wants me dead in a ditch. And how do you know it was him ?"

Copia rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful, slumping against the backrest with a scoff.

"Fucking V. Those are my ghouls, you don't think I know what their bites look like ?"

Perpetua blinks, slowly, hoping that within the pause he's allowing, Copia will realize how batshit insane that is. Apparently not, because the man just stares him down expectantly.

"...no ? Normal people don't just recognize bite marks ?"

Copia levels him with a stare, eyebrows raising.

"Since when the fuck am I considered normal ? This whole bloodline is freaks after freaks, you included, bat boy."

"Oh, so when Phantom's special interest is bats, or when you dress up as one, it's okay, but when I do, I'm weird ? Rat boy ?"

Perpetua knows he's pushing it, but despite his longing for an actual, non antagonistic reationship with his twin brother, he cannot help how annoyed he feels the second Copia gets snarky. The man in question throws him a dirty look.

"Do not drag Phantom into this."

Perpetua throws his glove at him, which lands with an objectively hilarious slapping noise square on the man's face.

"Oh, settle down, you dick, I meant no harm. He's actually the only one not actively trying to disembowel me."

Copia throws the glove back with a grunt. Not for the first time, Perpetua notices how much older than himself he looks, wiry grey strands running through his hair, deep wrinkles creasing his face. he finds no pleasure in this realization, only sadness and a wave of apprehension. Is it going to happen to me too ?

"He's too kind to you."

"Yes, yes, you think I deserve to get publicly executed for taking your place, I know, we've been over it already."

Though he's trying to play it off as light-hearted, bitterness crawls its way up Perpetua's throat as he says it. To his immense surprise, Copia blanches, straightening suddenly, hands clasping together compulsively.

"Don't joke about that shit," he snaps, voice tight. Strange. Copia's easily flustered, but he usually takes Perpetua's shit better than that. It's unusual to see him wringing his hands and mumbling to himself after just one sarcastic comment. It dawns on Perpetua there might be something else to it when he catches the haunted look on his brother's face, when he watches him get up and rip his gloves off to frantically wash his hands in a small sink hidden in the corner of the room.

"Why are you here ? Because I know you're not going to come crying to me everytime a ghoul bites you," Copia grumbles once he recomposed himself, gloves back on and face almost neutral. Perpetua toys with the fingers of his glove.

"Can't a man want to spend time with his brother ?"

Copia scoffs, kicking a cushion with a somber look.

"We're hardly more than strangers sharing genes."

Okay, ouch, but guess it's not that far from the truth. Perpetua sighs. To think he was considered petty as a child.

"Okay. We'll, i'd like for us to be actual brothers."

Copia tenses, shoulders raising toward his ears. His eyes are lost, far, far away from here, from this conversation. He doesn't sound snappy when he answer, but small. Sad.

"I had real brothers."

His hands are clasped again, with enough strenght to make the leather of his gloves creak. Perpetua leans forward in his seat, too earnest.

"Tell me about them. Tell me about Mom. Tell me about-"

"Trust me, you do not want to know shit about Dad."

But it's not a no. Copia's face scrunches up for a second as he glances at the empty space on his left, grumbling something that sounds a lot like "fuck off", though definitely not directed at Perpetua. It's not the first time he sees it happening, but he decides now is not the time to push his luck. Copia sighs, gesturing toward the man he insist on not calling his brother.

"What do you want to know ?"

Perpetua takes a deep breath, and asks.

#copia “we're not brothers” emeritus acting precisely like a brother is so funny to me #they're making progress ! I guess !#also perpetua genuinely didn't do anything to dew #his only mistake was to let his hand get withing biting range #also I hope we're all on the same page as to why copia reacts that way to v mentioning execution #look i still don't know if i like primo better as a brother or an uncle #so i purposefully kept it vague when copia mentions his brothers #also nihil's ghost cameo i know you guys spotted it #copia is so real for not wanting to talk about the old fuck #copia #frater imperator #perpetua #papa v perpetua #the band ghost

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poppet-seed · 3 days ago

Text

I have been working on this au/ idea pitch for a small while now. It's honestly made me really excited and such to create so I feel it's finally time to share it.

Introducing:

The Red string au ❤

An au focusing on Mareach and Lueasley. It's still a work in progress so none of the lueasley content is ready yet. But all of the mareach stuff is! So I thought it would be cool to share that!

Below has all my blurb/ fanfic writings about the au and story. Please enjoy my 7K words of Red string au 💚

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Injury, Death and Violence. Cussing, lots of swears and also British English. (Sorry)

Word count: 7.6K I think

All of the writing is split into sections for easy following. Please also be aware that there might be spelling errors or grammar inconsistencies. I apologise in advance!

Idea/ World building:

In this world, there is such a thing as fate and soulmates. People destined to be together.

It's a decision made the moment someone is born.

Stories say that soulmates are made from the same stardust. That only together will they be complete again. Whole again..

To aid people in finding their partner. On the day of their 18th birthday, a red string is said to appear. Only visible to thoes who it belongs to and untouchable to anyone else.

Its said to wrap around ones hand, wrist or finger and to lead off to your other half.

In some cases the string is attached to an individual you know well. In other cases, it will be of someone you've never met..

Creatures have spent years in search for their soul mate. Following the endless string to all corners of the world.

For everyone has a soul mate..

There have been unfortunate cases in which the red string will snap off and fade to a gray colour before disappearing.

This sadly is a common occurance once ones soul mate dies.

There is no need for a string when your soulmate no longer exists..

You only get one soul mate..

The idea of a string never appearing is a rarity.

Unheard of.

Yet cases of such a phenomenon have occurred in the past.

People have speculated that it may be due to one's soul mate not being born yet or worse, already dead before their 18th birthday...

Because, why else would a person lack a red string??

Everyone has a soul mate..

Peach's story:

Princess peach had dreamed of the day she too would get her red string.

If one knew her as well as toadsworth did, then they'd be aware of the princess' love for romantic novels. How she busys her free time going through many fantasy books of romance.

She's read a large selection!

Strangers next door, super natural partners, school crushes, forbidden love, a princess and her Knight...

Peach adored the idea of love, she dreamed of such a life. To be loved so entirely, and to love someone.

It was what she desired the most.

Yes. Peach was one for romance.

So as one does when seeking love. She waited, eagerly, for the day of her 18th birthday.

They day she would get her string.

They day she could find out about her soulmate...

She counted down the days.

Peach had been the object of many young suitors attraction. Many promising the world and more to her.

But she was polite, yet firm in her declining of such affections. Rejecting them under the premises of wanting to wait for her string to appear.

For she only wanted to be with her soulmate..

So when the day came, she could barely sleep. Pacing her room with butterflies and 'school girl' giggles.

Oh maybe it will attach to her wrist? Maybe her pinkie finger? What to expect. Who to expect.

Sleep clawed at her in the early morning hours, promising the princess pleasant dreams of her soulmate. How could she refuse such an offer?

Come morning, the Princess awoke slowly. Taking a moment to blink away the sleep in her eyes and stretch with a yawn.

The lingering of said dream leaving as the dawning realisation hit.

It's today.

Excitement bubbled up as she checked both her hands with a smile.

But yet... nothing..

Confusion took over. Where was it?

The thing she had been waiting for. Searching for?

Where was her string??

Panic followed shortly after.

Oh no- nonononono- where is it? Where is it!

It's got to be here! It has to be!!

Peach began to look through her bed sheets in a hurry.

Maybe it feel off? Can it do that? Maybe she was supposed to tie it herself?

Where-

Where

Toadsworth's gentle knock apon her bedroom door startled the Princess.

The old toad greeting her with a chirpy good morning and a happy birthday before requesting entry from the otherside.

A request peach quickly accepted with a soft cry for his aid.

He hurried inside, a bit startled seeing the princess so shaken.

By god's what was the matter?

Peach immediately began to explain with little prompting.

The string! It's not here! Why is it not here?!

Her panic rising fast when scavenging through her sheets provided nothing.

Toadsworth approached her bed, pulling himself up to her side with a huff.

He offered her his hand to take, gently washing her worrys with calm words.

Now now, it's okay, he's here. Breathe..

Peach followed his advice, gripping his hand to ground herself.

Once calm, he gently took her other hand offering his own comforting squeeze.

Maybe it's just late?

Sometimes, though admittedly on rare occasions, the string will appear later throughout the day.

It's nothing to be concerned over just simply late to appear.

It will be okay. There is no need to panic.

It will arrive before midnight.

This helped calm her down.

Yes, that has to be it. He's right.

Gosh, where would she be without toadsworth...

After a quick hug and a soft thankyou. He let her go.

Being sure she was alright before giving the okay signal for servents to flood the room.

Each holding gifts, flowers and of course her gown for the day.

It is still her birthday after all!

Now is no time for tears.

Her kingdom is waiting.

So the festivities continued on.

Hours passing by with cake, games, and people.

Toadsworth made sure to stick to her side the entire day.

Catching when the princess stared at her blank hands for too long.

Offering her moments of grounding and encouragement.

It will come, surely. Its just late.

No studies where done on when one should expect their string to appear. Most of the cases being during the night. Some in the early morning.

But the fact never changed that it always happens on the day of your 18th birthday..

Always.

So she was patient.

She waited.

It will happen.

It has to happen.

But after the day was done and the guests had all left. It was now just her and Toadsworth left in the ballroom.

The sun had long since set. Fluorescent lighting keeping the large room lit.

A few cleaner toads littered around, sweeping up the confetti from the dance floor.

It was quiet. Eerily so.

Peach sat quietly, staring at the large clock that decorated her walls.

Its ticks filled the room..

11:58

Looking to her hands there was still nothing.

Toadsworth was by her side, his face one of sympathy.

Neither said anything.

The air was heavy.

Peach's hands began to shake, where was it..?

Everyone gets a soul mate...

...

So where was hers..?

It has to.

It has to-

The stroke of midnight broke through the silence. It echoed through the room. Sounds of bells and chimes coming from the clock...

12:00. Midnight.

Something broke within her.

Peachs face morphed into that of a deep sorrow. Huntching over and beginning to weep into the old toads awaiting arms..

All he could do was hold her, rub her back and apologise deeply for her loss.

He's so sorry...

The Princess found herself skipping the rest of her birthday festivities.

The plans for the remainder of the week too were cancled.

She opted out of any royal meetings.

Dissappeared into her room for days.

All that was heard of the princess was the sound of her cries that echoed through the hall outside of her room.

She grieved for days, grieved a person she never had the opportunity to met..

For you only get one soul mate, and hers was seemingly already gone...

Bowser's relevance:

Koopas as a race live a lot longer than that of most races. Their life spans reaching into a few hundred years.

With this in mind-

It is normal for koopas to not get their soulmate strings until hundreds of years into their lives.

Bowser was no exception to this.

The king of koopas was without a string and even more so without a partner.

He was content with this. He's a young koopa afterall. So he probably won't get his soulmate string till hundreds of years into the future.

Nothing wrong with that.

But when word travelled that the beautiful princess peach of the neighboring mushroom kingdom was also without a string. He had an idea.

A genius idea really.

Why not be with each other?

Both without a string? This could be a great opportunity to find love and comfort in each other.

Just think of their kingdoms too, they could be united together with this proposal.

He's rather generous with this idea.

Yet the Princess didn't agree.

She was aware of his unpopular ruling methods. So to say. Citing him as cruel and a unnecessarily barbaric in his ways.

That she could never subject her people to such ways of tyranny.

It hurt.

More than bowser cared to admit.

But he's nothing if not persistent.

He'll win her affections.

She'll see things his way.

He's sure of it.

Story/ The plot:

A few years had past in which the mushroom kingdom and the koopa kingdom were suck in a back and forth debacle.

Bowser, proposing marriage to the Princess, and the princess having him kicked out of her kingdom with a stern refusal.

This had happened on more than one occasion.. and tensions began to grow with each rejection.

The koopa king had all the time in the world to win the beautiful princess over. But peach, being human, did not.

Humans only lived for so long.

So bowser was persistent. But she was as stubborn as she was beautiful.

So he changed tactics.

It started with a few stray attacks. Just some proof of his strength.

What he could offer her and her kingdom.

They would all be so much better under his protection and leadership.

Else people would get hurt.

So thoes small attacks grew..

Till one day. Bowser refused to take the princess' no as an answer.

She was being unreasonable! Stubborn as ever.

Bowser was sure she just needed the right push to accept.

Just needed to see what life would be like as his queen.

So he took her.

She struggled, fought, pleaded.

But no.

This was for her own good.

For the good of her kingdom.

He kidnapped her then and there.

Wisked her off to the darklands as her castle and town was left in shambles by his army.

All hope seemed lost..

That was until two strangers fell through the warp pipe,,

Toad had come to the outskirts of the kingdom to ponder. Everyone within the centre was frantic over the princess' kidnap.

He just needed a moment..

But yells and screams nearby brought him out of his thoughts.

Toad rushed over, ready to help whoever, and caught the end of what seemed to be two people falling out through a warp pipe.

Said pipe disappearing into the ground afterwards.

Toad approached with caution but concern. Two brothers lay on the floor. Two Human brothers. Both seeming dazed and a tad confused.

It was weird, suspicious even. That two new men randomly appeared after the princess was just kidnapped.

He had his eye on them.

Both men shook themselves off. Slowly getting to their feet with confused expressions.

They looked around everywhere like it was some other planet. They seemed so out of place.

So entrapped in everything they barely noticed him.

Key word, barely.

The man in green yelled after seeing toad. The man in red jumping forward to put himself infront of toad and the other.

How strange!

The man in green seemed to panic even more appon realising that the pipe they came from was gone. The one in red attempted to comefort him all while staring toad down.

It's okay. It's okay.. they'll be okay..

Toad could tell they seemed lost and mostly unthreatening. Just two strangers that had a bad case of wrong place, wrong time.

Quite frankly, toad didn't think they could do anymore harm than what was already done.

So might as well help them!

He introduced himself.

Both humans seemed startled he could talk.

But toad continued. They should come to the castle.

Toadsworth will know what to do with them.

He might be able to get them home!

The men shared a look, no words were exchanged but it seems a thousand things were said with that one gaze.

So with a single nod and some attempts at small talk, all on toads end, the three head towards the broken kingdom.

Other toads stared at them as they walked through the rubble.

Most gazing in fear. Some in surprise. No-one wanted to get close to the strangers. Understandably so.

But this was fine as the brothers also held their distance from everyone else.

Hands tightly joined together.

Only sticking close to toad.

The trio weaved through the damage and approached towards the castle.

Guards were posted at the entrance but they seemed preoccupied with trying to fix the door.

No one stopped them as they headed straight inside.

More guards were rushing around. Parts of the toad army were grouping up. Seeming to prepare for war.

No one batted an eye, too busy with preparations. No one had the time for strangers.

So the walk to meet toadsworth was easy.

He sat in the ballroom, around a large table with toad army captains, trying to build a plan of action.

When toad announced their presence loudly to all.

Hello! He's here and he's brought friends!

All eyes were on them.

The man in green shrunk behind the one in red at this.

Toadsworth immediately became defensive apon seeing strangers, here, in the planning room.

Who are these men?! What are they doing here!

A few weponds from guards started to point in their direction.

So it was then that the man in red stood forward, introducing himself.

Mario. His name was mario.

He and his brother Luigi are lost and need help getting home.

The old toad grumbled that they had enough issues to worry about. Their princess had just been kidnapped!

They don't have the time nor the resources to do anything about this.

If anyone could've helped the human brothers it would've been the princess.

So until she's back home safely they're out of luck.

Mario stepped forward more. His hands up in defence as the weponds pointed closer to him.

He pleaded, they're lost. Can't you help at all?

Toadsworth insisted again. No, they can't. Not without the princess. She knows this place better than anyone.

Okay. Fine. New plan.

Mario pitched an idea, let them help.

Let them aid in rescuing the Princess.

If that's the only way he'll get home then he'll do it.

He'd do anything to make sure he and his brother get home safe.

Toadsworth grumbled and brushed him off.

He wouldn't be of any use. They can't even trust him!

Toad then steps in.

Well- in times of crisis like this, they can't really be too picky.

They need all the help they can get, and these humans seem strong! Just look how big they are!

The older toad glares up at the human. Studying him. Mario only looks back with a stern gaze.

Please.. they just want to go home..

With a moment to ponder the pros and cons, and then a loooong sigh following. Toadsworth offers his hand to Mario.

Fine. They can help.

Both brothers let out a breath they had been holding.

Thank god.

Mario takes the small man's hand with a gentle shake.

He swears to do all he can for this princess.

However after a moment mario notices a small red string attached to his hand.

Well more specifically his pinkie finger.

Huh.. that's new..

Meanwhile, at Bowsers Castle:

After peach' initial capture she does nothing but fight.

The shock wore off pretty fast and her fight or flight hit like a freight train.

She yelled, struggled, screamed, did everything she could to try and get away.

But nothing worked.

Once at his castle, bowser threw her into a cage that sat neatly tucked away in a large pink room.

Her room, as he called it.

She cursed him. How dare he!

He only chuckled at her firey nature and said he'd be back later once she had cooled off a bit.

She continued to curse after him as he left.

The door slamming behind him.

She was alone.

Peach looked around trying to see if anything could help her escape. But nothing looked helpful.

She tried shaking the bars, bashing into them, kicking, squeezing through.

Nothings worked.. she was truly stuck.

Peach paced the small space thinking, rethinking, anything! She can't be tricked like this!

But after a few hours, of trail, error and just sitting on the cage floor. Peach found herself giving up..

Gosh what was the point..?

What was she doing..?

Her kingdom, her people, they were all suffering..

Maybe.. she should just marry him.. just suck it up for the peace of her kingdom.

Her soul mate was dead anyway, nothing is going to-

Something red caught her eye as peach glanced to her left hand out of habit.

No.

It couldn't be-

Yet there it was.

A delicately wrapped red string.. tied to her pinkie finger, just like she had always dreamed..

Her soul mate.. they were still out there..?

But why..

Why did it take so long? Why now when she can't get out to go find them?

She stared at the string for the long while, gently rubbing her gloved fingers over the fabric.

A few tears fell from her cheeks..

It dosent matter why.

It dosent matter how.

All that matters is that they're alive, they're real, and they're coming for her.

She can feel it.

When bowser returned to talk with her, she told him the truth. Yelling the fact.

Her string was here! Let her go! His deal is void now. Her soulmate has arrived!

But he didn't believe her.

Growling lowly that it's unbecoming of a princess to lie about something as important as a soulmate.

She tried to argue but he insisted that he was done talking.

No amount of yelling or bargening would convince him otherwise.

She was to be his wife. End of story.

Peach could only pray that her soulmate would hurry..

Traveling to save her:

At some point during their long adventure towards the darklands, parts of the toad army had needed rest.

So it was decided that they would all set up camp nearby the fire flower fields.

Mario and luigi opted to stay a bit away from the others. For privacy and peace of mind.

The last few days had been crazy, not a dull moment in this place.

So the brothers just took a moment to surround themselves with the beauty this world holds.

The sky was clear, stars sparking and a few galaxies visible. The fire flowers provided a warm blanket amongst the chill of the night.

It was beautiful..

Yet Mario found himself gazing to the string on his left hand. It looked so delicate.

He had initally tried to remove it, but no matter how he pulled it wouldn't come off.

It wasn't hurting or annoying anything.

It just didn't do much except dangle there.

It was weird.

Some part of him found comfort in its presence.

A feeling he often linked to Luigi's presence.

Speaking of-

His brother approached from the spot he had been setting up their sleeping bag in, taking a moment to comment on how clear the sky is. You don't see that in brooklyn...

Luigi then shifted to get down and sit next to his brother. Softly huffing something about how sore his knees were while rubbing at them.

Yeah.

They had done a lot of walking recently.

Mario face softened as he looked to luigi. Gently teasing the younger brother for his bad knees, only to be swatted away when he reached out to poke him. A grumble following that not everyone is built for running and sports Mario.

He only chuckled. Sure Lu, sure.

Both quickly fell into a comfortable silence after their giggles died down.

Taking the moment to just breathe.

Soon though Luigi caught Mario looking to his string again. Luigi also looking to mario's string. He gently took his brothers hand, observing and gently touching the string attached to it.

It was weird that no one but luigi could see his string. Apparently, it was only supposed to be seen by the person attached to it.

Yet they had checked and luigi was infact not attached to marios string in anyway.

Toadsworth had seemed very shocked at this information. He said something about how only he and his 'soulmate' were supposed to see it. Whatever that means.

Luigi was is other half, his twin brother.

It just made sense he could see it.

But not only could luigi see it. He could feel it too. Which again wasn't supposed to happen according to toadsworth.

It was weird. These strings were weird.

Luigi studied marios hand for few long moments before his eyes moved to his own hand.

There was a red string attached to his brother too.

Though it definitely wasn't the same one mario had. Again, they had already checked.

Mario took luigis hand in his, gently studying the youngers string. Luigi's string seemed to sparkle a bit. Unlike his own which was the softer of the two.

It lead off in the opposite direction that marios did. Far off into the distance. To who knows where.

Not their problem right now.

Both bothers just held each others hands. Taking this moment to themselves.

It was peaceful.

They'll get home eventually. Just so long as they stay together.

They were stronger together after all.

The Rescue Part 1:

The brothers and toad had been all that made it to bowsers Castle.

The army having been used as a distraction to attempt to storm the castle. It allowed for the trio to try and find another way in undetected.

The brothers had been able to get past the war zone by entering the castle through a back pathway.

Toad having lead them.

They approached fast, jumping the lava moat and climbing in through a hole in the security.

The plan was to get in, grab the princess. Get out.

Simple right?

Well inside was a diffrent story.

Guards were limited as most were now outside fighting off the toad army. So sneaking around wasn't too difficult, but still a very dangerous job.

It would only take one person spotting them for the plan to go sideways.

So they had to be quiet and sneaky.

All while trying to work their way through twisting halls, around the guard routes, to eventually find the Princess hidden inside.

Yeah, simple.

Mario had noticed that his string was seeming to lead into the castle,,

Luigi noticed it too. Giving his brother a sharp look but neither saying anything.

Okay weird- very weird. That's- probably nothing.

Yeah, best not to worry about it.

They have other issues.

Yet through every turn that lead deeper into the castle, the string lead the way. As if guiding him. It was starting to make mario nervous.

So he tried to push it aside. Focus mario. You're here for the Princess, to get home!

Focus!

At some point while deep in thought, Mario had rushed ahead. Not hearing luigi whisper shout his name in warning.

It had fucked everything up as he marched straight into the face of a guard.

Both seemingly alarmed at each others presence.

The boney creature recovered first though. Its eyes going wide before immediately yelling for back up.

Thoes humans!! They're here! They breached the walls! Sound the alarm!

Fuck.

They needed to go! NOW.

Toad and luigi followed marios lead as they now all took off sprinting through the halls.

Going this way and that, the red string guiding them the right way.

Toad made sure to bash through guards that made a grab at them with that frying pan of his. Leaving the boney remains to collapse.

But it was very quickly becoming obvious that they'd need more than a frying pan, that there was a lot more guards than them.

There was no way they could rescue a princess while being tailed like this!

Something had to change.

Surprisingly, it was luigi to shouted to spit up.

If they separated, one group could distract while the other gets the princess.

Mario had the string. He could follow it.

Luigi and toad would draw the hoard away.

Mario absolutely DID NOT AGREE TO THIS IDEA.

He wanted to scream no! LUIGI DONT YOU DARE-

But his brother did anyway. Flashing a determined smile. He and toad broke off to the left. Making sure to slow down a bit and lure the hoard with them.

Leaving mario to keep running unbothered.

The last thing mario heard luigi shout was

'Get the Princess!! We'll meet you outside!!'

Then he was alone in the hall.

This was an opportunity that wouldn't come again.

Follow the string, or go after luigi..

He had every mind to go to his brothers aid. But the princess, the reason they were here.

There was a subtle tug to his hand. He barely felt it.

But the string, it called to him.

Someone was calling to him..

So, he listened, and he followed it.

The Rescue Part 2:

She waited,, she had been waiting for years. So a few more days were nothing..

So why did she feel so sick with worry..?

These last few days stuck in her cage had been testing, yet the red string attached to her finger brought such a wave of comfort.

It's all going to be okay soon.

They'll come soon.

Bowser had tried to talk, he tried being sweet, he tried being threatening, tried everything in between.

But peach continued to look away and cross her arms in defiance.

When her soul mate gets here. Bowser will be ruined.

She'll never marry him.

Word of two strangers began to circle around bowsers army.

A tale of two humans, leading an army of toads towards the darklands. In hopes to rescue her.

At first bowser paid no mind. Sending out a wave troops to 'take care of them'.

Yet they prevailed and that pissed him off.

Who do these humans think they are? Coming into his kingdom? Beating up his troops?

He'll deal with them in time.

So more waves were sent. Each bigger than the last.

But the more troops he sent the more the humans continued forward.

Peach knew it was getting under his shell.

The king started to became violent and loud. Demanding anyone to just kill them already!

Yet another reason peach would never marry him.

As of now, Bowser was currently out dealing with an 'issue' as he put it.

Something about a fight at the main entrance?

It doesn't matter. She'll continue to wait.

The room doors started to shift and Peach straightened up, ready to face the king again.

But her breath was stolen apon seeing a man dressed in red walk through the doors.

Time seemed to stop as he looked around and then in her direction. His face lighting up apon seeing her.

Oh god.

It was them.

The red string attached to his hand confirmed it.

It was him.. her hero.. her soulmate..

Peach clasped at the bars to her cage.

She needed to get to him. Nothing else in her life would ever be more important than to be next to this man.

The man in red shut the door behind himself and rushed over to her.

Stopping short of the cage and removing his hat from his head with a bow.

He had never been infront of a princess before..

He greeted her with a soft 'hello princessa' before claiming he was here to rescue her!

She quickly reached out through the bars, hands immediately on his face,, brushing against his mustache.

It was so soft..

He jumped a bit at the sudden movement and touch. But seemed frozen, just staring at her.

A soft red rising to his face

He was perfect..

Peach could cry.

She softly pleaded for him to free her. Please let her out...

With a nod the man placed the cap back on his head and looked up to the cage.

Studying it.

He only took a few seconds before honing in on the top of the cage.

It seemed to be holding all the bars together and in place. It had to be the weakest point.

So with a huff and some clumsy climbing.

He got to the top and began to kick hard at the structure. Trying to push it enough to dislodge some of the bars.

Peach could only stare as he did.

It took a few kicks but it worked.

There was a loud clang and some of the bars fell away, leaving a gap in the cage. Peach winced as she squeezed a bit but managed to wriggle free.

The man hopped down to help her out.

Offering his hand for her to use for balance. Then pulling back once she made it to the floor.

Peach now noticed how short he was. Originally with the cage being so high she hadn't noticed at first.

But now- gosh that was oddly charming right now.

He began to explain that they needed to go! He's not too sure of the way back out but if she can stay close-

Peach softly took his hands, cutting him off and causing the man to gasp slightly.

He fell quiet immediately. Staring up a her as his face grew warm. Cheeks turning red.

It was adorable.

Before they go, she had to know

What was his name?

Who has she got to thank for her rescue..?

Mario.. his name was mario.

Fight:

Mario held the Princess' hand in his. She gripped at him rather tightly.

He understood, she must be nervous.

So he lead the way. Being a lot more careful this time as he and the princess snuck through the castle.

It was a lot easier getting lost inside than remembering the way back.

All the halls looked the same and last time he had toad and luigi to help guide him.

His brother...god he hopes he's okay..

But right now he had to focus on the Princess. The reason they were even here.

He had to get her out.

With a soft squeeze to her hand for comfort. They rushed through the halls. Ducking in shadowy areas to hide from guards and sneaking around corners when the coast was clear.

All was going well.

Too well.

A loud roar soon tore through the castle and it's halls. The foundation shook with its power.

Mario felt every hair stand on edge.

"WHERE IS THE PRINCESS!!!!"

That's definitely not good-

Mario went to move on but his hand held him back. Turning to look why, he saw the Princess frozen. A look of pure fear visible through her expression.

Fuck. She's terrified.

He softly whispered that they needed to go!

They can't stick around or else they'll be caught.

She barely responded. Eyes looking to and through him, but she let him numbly drag her through the halls.

As they went, Mario started to notice a few guards collapsed on the ground either knocked out or fallen apart.

Someone had been this way.

He hoped it was luigi and toad..

But he took the opportunity to arm himself, picking up one of the spears.

Now he can hopefully protect them both.

There were shouts in the far distance. The war from outside! They must be close to the entrance!

It's so close!

Not that far-

"YOU."

That same roaring voice from before-

The Princess yelped and suddenly pushed him to one side.

A fire ball grazing his back as he fell.

Mario recovered fast. Turning to face this- oh god

A monster stood before him, gaze one of rage and anger. Eyes of fire and a snarl covering his face.

The king of koopas.

Mario could barely dodge as another fire blast was sent his way.

Dashing to the right. He was further separated from the Princess, who rushed to hide while the Kings attention was distracted.

Bowser, or so he had heard him be called. Rushed him.

Mario wasn't prepared, having to use the spear to block. It was snapped clean in two.

Uh oh.

The next swipe he could dodge but god- he couldn't get a breath in.

Jumping left, right. Rolling out the way. Flinging himself back. Mario danced around the claws that slashed at him and feet that threatening to crush his body.

This was ridiculous, he couldn't fight him!

He was just dodgeing till he couldn't dodge no more.

He needed a plan! Think- THINK.

Eventually he was going to slip up. In his defence, Mario was so busy focusing on the CLAWS and FIRE that he didn't even think to look down when bowser spun suddenly and hit his tail right into the plumbers chest.

He was thrown rather far back. Hitting the wall on the other side with a pained cry. His ribs ached and breathing was suddenly difficult.

Fuck- were they broken-?

There was a cry of his name as loud thumps approached.

GET UP MARIO!!

He tried.

Rolling to get on his hands and knees he tried to move, to get out the way! Only to be hit again, this time with a large fire ball.

Mario yelled out loudly as his right arm bloomed into a scorched mess.

The pain was unimaginable..

He tried to get away. To back up. Do something!

A dark shadow now drowned his figure as the king grabbed him by his overall straps and lifted him up with a growl.

Mario gasped and struggled. Kicking his feet helplessly as he dangled from the monsters hand.

He tried to pry at the claws, try to free himself but he was in so much pain, he didn't have the strength..

Bowser stared him down. That same firey rage burning straight into marios soul.

He might die here-

There was a moment where all Mario could do was stare as the koopa inhaled deeply. Fire visibly building up in the back of his throat.

Mario was staring death in face-

He would've been done for, had it not been for something hitting bowser's head suddenly and distracting him.

The koopa grunted before turning to look where it came from with a growl.

Mario struggled to see over bowser body but when he did he saw it was the Princess.

She had thrown a brick or something at him. The stress on her face was heavy as she glared down the king.

She demanded the monster 'Let him go!'

Mario at this, struggled more in the beasts grip. He had to get away! She needed help!

Only for sharp claws to now dig into his sides harshly.

He could only wheeze out a sound of pain and a strained whine.

Not his ribs again!

At this the Princess cried out.

Stop it!! Please!! Don't hurt him!!

She looked terrified for him.

He didn't like seeing her like this..

Bowser glanced between the two before seeming to have an idea. His scowl morphing into an evil grin.

The next words were chilling.

Marry him. Or he'll kill the human.

Mario immediately protested.

No she couldn't!! Dont do it!!-

The claws dug deeper into his flesh at his objection. A gargled cry of pain followed.

Blood was starting to dampen his clothes now.

He was in really rough shape and she could see that.

There was a moment of unspoken sorrow when peach made eye contact with him.

He knew what that meant.

No- don't..

The Princess nodded, agreeing.

Yes.

She'll do it.

Just.. please.

Don't kill him...

Bowser seemed satisfied with this answer and with one final squeeze to dig his claws just that bit deeper- Threw Mario to the ground.

He felt dazed. Like he was floating. Everything was spinning and things felt muffled.

The princess..

He shook harshly and tried to move, tried to get up. Do something!

But all Mario could do was lul his head to one side and watch as bowser approached the Princess.

No.

Please.

Someone stop this!

His cries were answered when a frying pan flew from across the room and smacked bowser clean in the face.

His gaze followed where it came from and saw Toad rushing forward. Luigi close behind.

His heart soared.

His brother! Oh thank god he's okay!!

Luigi and Toad seemed battered and bruised but were still standing.

Better than that actually. They seemed ready to take on Bowser.

Luigi now equipped with what Mario can only assume is one of thoes power up things toad had mentioned a few days back.

I mean, how else would his brother be throwing ice?

Bowser roared in anger and launched for them both. Giving the Princess the chance to rush over to him.

Once at marios side she began to softly apologise, over and over, mumbling curses at his condition.

He must look pretty bad. He felt pretty bad.

He noticed her shuffling through what appeared to be toads satchel.

When did she get that?

No matter.

She offered something that looked like a mushroom- well- offered is a nice way of saying she practically stuffed it down his throat.

He obviously panicked a bit at first before swallowing.

The affects were immediate.

The pain was gone. He could breathe again! His injuries closed and suddenly his energy returned. Though the aches were still there, he could ignore it for now.

Mario quickly shifted to get up. Noticing that he had also grew in size and power.

Whoa- why hadn't they been using these things??

She stared at him intensely, tears in her eyes and rolling down her face.

How he wished to stop her tears..

A loud, pained yelp from luigi immediately caught marios attention again, as he snapped back to bowser.

That bastard had his brother pinned down.

Luigi struggled frantically under bowsers hand. Thoes claws were way too close to his brothers neck.

Toad was a bit away, holding his arm, it looked burnt.

He needed to take the king down NOW.

Without hesitation, mario rushed back into danger. There wasn't a plan really.

He just had to do something. Everything inside him screamed to GET THAT MONSTER OFF HIS BROTHER!!

Mario saw bowsers tail. The same one that he's pretty sure broke some ribs and reached for it.

Grabbing it and yanking it back hard.

Bowser was taken off guard and gasped. Loosing balance and was knocked onto his stoumch.

Luigi quickly shuffling out and a bit away. He too looked injured. Bits of red bleeding into his green shirt.

Anger fueled him.

Mario took all his strength, everything he had and used it to swing back. Lifting the koopa with the momentum.

He span a few times, building up speed. Ignoring when the king yelled in confusion, Mario suddenly and very forcefully smashed him into the closet wall.

It cracked immediately from impact, bowser yelling out in pain as the rubble collapsed on top of him.

Large beams of concrete and metal further crushing the monster.

It had to have hurt a lot.

But to bowsers credit, he was still awake.

Dazed sure. But still conscious.

He weakly but furiously began scraping to get out of the rock. Growling half threats.

He'll kill him. He'll kill him and his brother.

He'll find them!

Mario glared him down before reeling his fist back and punching bowser. Hard.

The koopa fell again, but this time, didn't get back up.

Laying knocked out amongst the rubble.

He was out. They had done it.

Now was their chance to leave.

Mario looked to his brother, then toad and finally the princess. All were in various stages of pain and panic.

So, mario gathered them all up in his arms and made a break for it.

He was careful of his brothers injuries. Cradling him and the princess in his arms.

Both of which shook but said nothing.

Toad however, sat on marios shoulders with little to no complaints. Helping tell Mario which way to go to get out the castle.

All were shaken up. The Princess especially so.

Mario will deal with that later.

His only priority right now to get them all to safety.

Back at the Mushroom Kingdom:

The reunion between the Princess and Toadsworth had been emotional.

Luigi having to take a few moments outside to shed some tears at the sight. His brother was always an emotional cry-er

The old shroom cradled the weeping princess in his arms, soothing her that all will be okay.. he's here now..

It was rather tender to watch. Almost too tender. He felt a bit awkward just watching such a private moment.

But after a while the Princess stood again. She was rather tall in comparison to everyone around. Including mario himself-

Curse his stupid genes. Why couldn't he have gotten the tall gene. Luigi hogged it all.

He can almost hear his brothers teasing laugh from the depths of his subconscious.

Grumbling at his stupid brothers luck of the draw, mario missed when the Princess addressed him.

Blinking a few times, he approached with a soft hum to say he was listening.

Yes yes. He's listening now.

She thanked him, truly thanked him. Her gaze that of a loving mother. She stared at him like he held the world.

It made him a bit bashful honestly-

Looking away with a red face and a hand reaching to rub at his neck.

Aw shucks-

But throughout the 'excitement' that was being brutally beaten by an oversized turtle. Mario had forgotten all about the string attached to his hand.

The same one that the Princess also wore..

Her hands were tucked to her chest, seemingly holding each other, but that red string still poked out from behind her fingers.

Trailing the short distance to tie the other end to his own.

There was a long pause as mario slowly reached out and touched the string that connected them.

The Princess gasped at the contact. Watching in awe as the red man slowly took her hand so see it closer.

No words were said, though the old toad did bristle up with wide eyes.

They were, attached..?

What was it toad said?

Soulmat-

A few things clicked all at once.

1. This is a Princess, and he is just holding her hand so casually-

2. This world had such a thing as soulmates,, a connection said to be deeper than anything. To be someones other half.

3. The Princess was his soulmate.

Mario all but threw himself back in a panic. Face hotter than the sun.

The Princess reached out to him with a surprised look. Like he was some startled animal.

He started to ramble. Apologise. Hands and arms waving animatedly as he talked.

He's so sorry! Excuse him! He doesn't know what came over him!!

Though partly through his long rant, he noticed that the Princess and toadsworth looked at him with puzzled expressions.

Oh my fucking god, he's been ranting in Italian-

If there's a higher power. Strike him down.

Soft giggles reached his ears through the rushing of blood to his cheeks.

The Princess- gosh, her voice was so enchanting.

She giggled at him. Laughing at just how much of a fool he is. There was no malice to her actions. Only joy and humour.

A compete change than what he saw in Bowser's castle.

It made a fluttery feeling rise in his chest.

He could get used to her giggle.

She again approached him. Mario taking a step back out of habit. But she gently cupped his face to still him.

Thank god luigi wasn't around to hear the squeak he made when her soft lips pressed to his forehead.

He swore his heart skipped a beat.

She pulled back slightly, hands still holding his face, her gaze was so tender and loving towards him.

She whispered a soft thankyou.

He nearly died at her last words.

'My Hero..'

Going home Part 1:

The kingdom celebrated the return of their princess. It was a short happy moment before the rebuilding of the towns and castle had to be done.

Mario and luigi both mutually agreed that they would stay to help with the repairs. After all, they are plumbers and it's the least they could do after everything the kingdom has done for them.

Since returning the brothers had been hailed as heroes. The Toads had been kind enough to offer them a temporary house to stay in.

Rebuilding was going to take a few days, maybe even weeks with all the damage Bowsers army caused.

Something the brothers had no issue with fixing.

The mushroom kingdom was welcoming to both men, people greeted them in the streets.

They looked at them like they were actually something.

This place was nice.

The thought of going home was becoming more and more distant to mario as the days ticked on..

Why go back to brooklyn? No one there ever believed in them.

Here. They had a chance to be somthing, an opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime.

But yet, his brother.

Luigi would often talk about how he missed their home back in brookyln, how he cant wait to try some genuine pizza.

How he's so ready to sleep for a week in their old beds.

Mario would never stay if luigi didn't want to.

Luigi was his everything...

As the town grew closer and closer to being rebuilt. Mario felt a pit forming in his stoumch.

They'll be going home soon, leaving this all behind.

There was an ache at the idea.

Mario found himself looking out his window for hours into the night.

Sleep wasn't possible with this feeling, so he wanted to cherish every moment in this place.

This world was beautiful, so strange but captivating.

It's people were kind, it held so many adventures and stories.

And its princess-

Gosh, the princess...

He'd never forget her.

Mario will never admit just how many times he caught himself staring at the string attached to his finger. It was oddly comforting, like a safety net or warm blanket.

In a way, it reminded him of the way luigi brings him comfort. And thats one hell of a compliment.

He and the princess had many talks in these last days.

They spoke about anything really.

How their day was, how's construction going, how is luigi-

Actually

Now that he thinks about it-

She's been doing most of the question asking. He's just happy to answer and she seems happy to listen.

The only questions he thinks he's asked her is about the warp pipe he came from and of course her name-

Princess peach.

It's a wonder he went so long without knowing it.

Peach seemed confused by such a pipe, but assured him she would look into it!

He has yet to tell her his plans of leaving to go home.

The idea of going home, brought that same cold feeling from before.

Gosh what is he going to do...

Going home Part 2:

The lack of sleep was becoming more obvious.

To most, mario could fool. Not a lot of people know him that well yet. So white lies and half truths worked fine

However, he could never hope to fool his ever observant brother.

Luigi came downstairs one morning and saw him sitting with his morning drink in the kitchen.

Mario had done this same trick for a few days now. Greeting luigi in the kitchen with a warm drink.

Under the premises of him having wanted a drink earlier and not able to fall back to sleep.

It worked for a few days. But eventually luigi would know.

Mario was never an early riser and luigi knew that.

So when his brother opted to sit opposite him instead of going to make his usual morning coffee, Mario knew the gig was up.

To luigis credit, he approached the topic gently. Asking how Mario slept and how his morning was.

Mario knew he knew. But he still wasn't ready to come clean yet. So he played along.

Yeah, he slept fine. The morning is okay. Weather looks nice.

Luigi began to fiddle with his hands at that answer. Eyes shifted to glance at marios string then his own. Before making eye contact.

'Wanna try that again? Without lies this time?'

Fuck.

Mario could only fool luigi so many times. His brother knew him better than he knew himself.

Mario couldn't meet luigis eyes, turning to stare deeply into his half cold drink.

What's there to talk about? How can he talk about it? It's so selfish. He's so selfish.

Luigi had somehow moved closer without mario realising. Gently taking his brothers hand and holding it tightly.

Gosh what would he do without lu..?

That's why he can't stay, he can't loose his brother..

Luigi looked at with with concern. Softly prompting Mario to talk.

Please, he's here to listen. He can't help if he doesn't know..

Mario sighed. That pit in his stoumch growing as he started to speak.

Where to begin?

Well first he's not been sleeping much,if at all. But lu knew that much already.

Luigi asked if it was because of nightmares and mario paused, partly? He does occasionally wake up to images of claws and fire. But no, that's not the real reason.

So Mario continued.

Next was the fact that he found himself overthinking everything in brooklyn, they've been missing for probably a month or two, their job- their rent- what are going to do when they get back?

Luigi only nodded. Yeah, that was an issue.

Then there's the problem of getting back- the warp pipe has such little information on it. It's as if it vanishes after spitting people out.

The princess has been trying to look into it, but there's no way to tell when or IF it will come back.

Speaking of the princess, gosh, he still hasn't had the guts to tell her he's leaving..

It would break her heart.

Luigi was aware of their soulmate predicament. Being all to happy to relentlessly tease and annoy. 'Younger brother privileges' as he had described it.

The conversation continued. At some point Mario had become rather emotional as the talk progressed.

He occasionally seemed exasperated at something. Only to calm a bit when luigi squeezed his hand and offered his advice.

Mario found himself struggling with unshed frustrated tears that threatened to fall whenever he looked at the red string attached to him.

It mocked him. Giving him a reminder of the life he must leave.

He'd do anything for luigi- anything! but fuck, this was so hard!

Mario eventually ended up saying something he didn't want to.

He didn't want luigi to know how much he despised the thought of going home.

Because his sweet loving brother would bend over backwards to make Mario happy. Even if that means he himself wasn't.

Yet he blabbed too much and it just slipped out.

Mario mentioned how much better it was here. How unhappy he was in brooklyn.

But then he saw it. The way luigis gaze softened and his brows furrowed.

He knows that face.

Mario quickly tried to backtrack.

Brooklyn is fine! It's okay! It's their home afterall! Its where they were born!

Luigi gently placed his hands to mario's shoulders. Grasping them to stabilise his brother. Who had begun breathing heavier than before.

One of his siblings thumbs brushed away his tears- wait, when did he start crying..?

Luigi stared at him as Mario just fell silent.

Luigi.. sweet loving luigi.. his baby brother.. his twin. Embraced him slowly.

Hugging Mario close. Mario could only wrap his arms around Lu and grip tightly.

Trying to control his breathing and shakey voice. Else he'd cry more.

Luigis soft apology took Mario a bit by surprise. He was sorry that Mario had felt this way, that he hadn't felt comfortable enough to talk with him.

Mario tried to argue. No! It's not that! He trusts luigi entirely.

But his brother continues and what he says next shuts Mario up quickly.

He'd thought about it too.

Staying here.

Things are easier, there's no stress of where to get money.

No worries of angry old bosses and disappointed glares.

There was no struggles. At least, not the type of struggles they had in brooklyn.

Back there, they were no body. Two brothers with big dreams and heads up in the clouds.

But here, they could be somebody.

There were somebody.

The toads loved them. The Princess loved them.

Luigi made a point of pulling back to look at Mario sterny.

'The Princess loves you Mario.'

He couldn't speak.

So luigi continued.

Sure, he had his fears. But thats just who he is. Always the worrywart of the two.

He's like ma in that sense.

He can't help but think of the 'what if's'

What if there's more danger?

What if bowser comes back?

What if they get seperated-

Mario stepped in at this. Tightly holding luigis face in his hands.

He and his brother faces were now inches apart.

No. That will never happen.

He won't let it.

This seemed to hit something with luigi. The younger brother now looking rather emotional. Scared slightly. Tears in his eyes threating to fall.

Croaking a soft 'how can you be so sure-?'

How could Mario promise that,,?

This world is so much bigger than them both.

It's beautiful, it's magical, it's unknown,,

How..? How will they do this?

'Together..'

Luigi whimpered at marios voice.

They'll do this together.

Always together.

Everything will be okay. So long as theyre together..

Both brothers leaned to press their foreheads together.

Tears were shed.

Promises in Italian.

Just staying in each others embrace.

If they're doing this, then they will do it together..

Always.

They can make this new world their home.

After all. With luigi, Mario is already home...

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rosalineandrosemary · 22 hours ago

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i dislike plainly stating this, but i feel like more “you are not immune to propaganda” stories cannot hurt. when i was thirteen, fourteen-ish, i was a terf. never to current jkr’s extent, but i was.

i was hugely into feminist circles when i was a preteen. i could recite rape statistics and every project i could do on feminism or historical women’s movements or suffrage or anything like that i would do. got into arguments with the other kids, everything. other movements were significant in their own rights but they were tangential because i was a white preteen from well off suburbs so i couldn’t see how interconnected everything was. misogyny was bad, so was homophobia and transphobia and racism, but misogyny was central to my worldview, especially cause it was the only one i had any personal experience with.

i was also hugely into fandom spaces and so i started interacting with the world through reuploaded screenshots of tumblr posts on pinterest—had an “activism” pin board that had at least ten thousand pins on it by the time i actually deleted my account. it was supposed to be to help everyone but i was also twelve and it was the beginning of trump’s first presidency and above all things i was scared. i’ve never been quite conventionally attractive but i’m unambiguously feminine presenting and have large boobs and got catcalled for the first time at around that age and i was scared. i could recite the rape statistics but i couldn’t do anything about them and it felt like that threat of violence was always behind the next corner with “grab ‘em by the pussy” and all of the culture that brought with it and so radfem spaces offered what felt like safety.

they never illustrated it as “anti-trans.” it was always “we can help them in other ways but we need to keep ourselves safe first.” it’s never presented as bigotry off the bat—it’s protection or it’s comfort or it’s what seems like it could be the solution. it was never “trans people hurt women” it’s “trans people, as an unfortunate side effect, give men the opportunity to hurt women. trans people can allow cis men into women’s spaces and we cannot afford that threat.” it doesn’t feel like transphobia like that, it just plays into your fears until you are more worried about yourself and your small group than other people.

and then once they’ve got you on that they can start getting you with the other things, as long as they word it correctly enough that it still doesn’t seem like bigotry. i fell in deep enough that for a while i believed that transness was only a side effect of patriarchy—they had said that we needed to deconstruct gender entirely and that if we did that there would be no trans people because gender would mean nothing for presentation or social attitudes or anything like that. and it sounded good but that’s so fucking detached from actual queerness

and the only reason i actually got out of it was because i was in a progressive enough area that middle school was when kids started realizing they were trans. i started meeting actual real life trans people and they were important to me and that’s what made the difference!! having people around me that i could listen to and be able to actually recognize other people’s lived experiences and go beyond the fear i was trapping myself in in online spaces.

i don’t know how many people see the posts like “you have to love trans people more than you hate terfs” but that really is just the core of it! you are not immune to propaganda you are not immune to being targeted your own progressive ideals cannot save you the only thing that can is community!!

ok im going to #seriouspost for a second here. I don't think Harry Potter is a manifesto. I think it was a flawed passion project that millennials latched onto because of the fantasy of sticking it to their mean teachers and arbitrarily categorizing themselves (hogwarts houses; it's the thinking millennial's astrology). I think the fact that the series got popular when and how it did was very much a product of its time.

I don't think Harry Potter is the biggest symbol of JKR's bigotry. I think the most flagrant sign of that was how she responded to critics. I watched her become radicalized in real time. I watched how she doubled down on her racism when she was called out for the ways she promoted her tragically mid fantastic beasts movies. I watched her chase marginalized teenagers with a double digit follower count off of twitter for daring to criticize her thought process, and no one with any kind of power standing against her because she was the one who was paying them. This isn't to say Harry Potter is without flaws. This is to say she really didn't give a shit about that. Getting rich and powerful is a hell of a drug, and she had enough sycophants that she had no reason to care about what her critics were saying.

She was convinced that she was a martyr; a voice for the unheard; a leader for the ages, so of course her detractors were the bad guys. And I think we should take this to heart. We should see this as an example of how easy it is to get radicalized; if you think of yourself as a paragon of virtue, you are going to think that whatever you see as good and right is an objective fact. Most people don't know this, but the majority of terfs start out as trans allies. You are not immune to propaganda! You are not immune to falling into dangerous ideologies!!!

This is why the most important thing you can do as an activist is to listen. Do NOT think you're above being wrong; do NOT develop a god complex; do NOT form an identity out of being right all the time. Involve yourselves in the groups you claim to speak for. Listen to trans women; share resources that help trans women; familiarize yourself with the diversity of experiences that trans people have and the struggles they face.

No, none of you are as bad as JKR because you don't have her money or her power. You will likely never have the capacity for harm she does. But check yourselves. Do not affirm yourselves into thinking you always have the moral high ground. Watch yourselves; humble yourselves; check yourselves for signs of cult behavior and internalized prejudice. You are always learning. You will always be learning. Do not allow yourselves to get a power trip from brushing off marginalized voices.

#rosaline rambles #for my own organizational purposes #but. yeah. just. think about things. be careful. begging

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fou4summer · 1 day ago

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Loud neighbor

kim minjeong × fem!reader

Synopsis: You found your new neighbor Minjeong annoying, too loud and weird, but after one night everything changed.

Warnings: smut!, rough sex, strap use, kinda enemies to lovers, thats it i thinkkk

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 1.8k

You hated going to work early in the morning, but at least it was peaceful. Until today.

You woke up before your alarm thanks to voices echoing through the hallway. Annoyed, you got up, opened your door just a crack, and peeked out. There was a guy with boxes, and behind him a shorter girl with brown hair and bangs.

"You can put that one there thanks!" She chirped. Way too smiley. Way too bubbly. Like it wasn’t 8AM.

You sighed and dragged yourself back inside to get dressed.

Later, as you left your apartment, you bumped into the same girl from the hall. What the hell was she doing near your place when you'd seen her way down the hall?

"Oh hi! I’m so sorry! I just wanted to give the neighbors these chocolate bars. Very tasty by the way!" Her voice was deep. Like, surprisingly deep. It didn’t match her cute, innocent face at all.

You looked down and.....yep. Chocolate bar in hand.

"I don’t need this." You grabbed it and put it back in her hand.

Her smile faltered. Just for a second. Like she was hoping to make a friend. Too bad. You didn’t talk to your neighbors unless you had to and none of them had ever irritated you like this one.

—

Work was brutal. Your boss dumped a last minute task on you, so you ended up staying late. By the time you got home, all you wanted was to lay down and pretend the day hadn’t happened.

And then? Loud music. Not just loud, it was brain melting loud. You knew exactly who it was. Storming down the hall, you pounded on her door. She opened it casually, wearing a white shirt and underwear.

“Oh hey neighbor! You still haven’t told me your name, but you show up this late? Do you maybe want that chocolate ba—”

"I, not maybe, want you to shut the fuck up and turn that shit off. Its one in the morning. Some of us actually work." You snapped. She just stood there, staring at you with those wide eyes like you hadn’t just yelled at her.

"What are you staring at freak?" You snapped.

"You look really hot like that. Can you yell at me again?" She tilted her head and stepped closer.

Your mouth fell open. What?

Then you noticed her gaze drop to your chest and you remembered. You weren’t wearing anything under your shirt.

"Stop looking weirdo!" You shouted, slapping her lightly across the face.

She recoiled instantly clutching her cheek. "O-Ow! What was that for?! I was just observi—"

You cut her off again with a shove. "Don’t make me come here again."

You turned around and walked off, but just as you reached your door, she yelled after you.

"Minjeong!"

You turned, confused.

"My name is Minjeong, Y/N!"

You rolled your eyes and shut the door behind you....Wait?

How the fuck did she know your name?

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Actually, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. No. No, you did not like the weird neighbor who thought it was a good idea to blast Deftones at 2AM.

—

The next morning, as you were leaving for work, you saw her outside the building. She was showing some comic book pages to another girl. The girl wasn’t even looking at the pages. She was looking at Minjeong. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to push her away. You didn’t hate that she was laughing with someone else.

Lies. All lies. You tried to pass by unnoticed, but she spotted you instantly.

"Y/N! Good morning!" She called out, waving excitedly.

"Morning." You kept walking, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t. She followed.

"Well, we made progress. You said good morning."

"I said morning. Not good morning. If it were a good morning, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now." She laughed, like you hadn’t just insulted her again.

"Stop following me. Go back to your girlfriend."

"G-Girlfriend?! Wait—I'm confused. You mean the girl I was just talking to? She’s my childhood frie—"

"I don’t care who she is. I don’t care about you. You’re just a loser trapped in a hot body—" You slapped your hand over your mouth mid sentence. Minjeong smirked.

"Oh? What was that Y/N?" She poked your shoulder teasingly.

"Don’t touch me." You stepped onto the bus just as she waved goodbye. You flipped her off. She laughed again.

—

"You guys don’t understand, shes so annoying." You ranted to your friends at lunch. "She was showing some random girl her stupid comic books and the girl was just staring at her like she was in love or something." Your friend calmly reached over and put a finger on your mouth.

"Girl....Are you sure you are not in love with her?"

"What?! Ew! With that nerd? Never." Your friends burst out laughing.

"Hey is this her?" One of them said, holding up a phone. "I think I found her insta." You looked.

Her feed was chaos. Guitars, concerts, selfies with her tongue out, comics, her friends, her band. And of course, one clip of her playing guitar absolutely shredding.

"Y/N if this is her, you are so dumb for not being in her bed right now..." Your other friend added.

"Okay you can obsess at home. I’ll send you her profile. Hopefully you keep both hands on your phone…"

"Sure—Wait what the fuck?! Don’t send me her—and excuse me?!" You shouted, your face burning as your friends cracked up.

—

You took a nap after your lunch with friends. You woke up 20 minutes later sweaty and panting. You had a dream of Minjeong. Her touching you, kissing you....You couldn't take it anymore.

You clicked her profile that your friends sent you earlier and scrolled through the pictures. The video of her playing a guitar really good. You wished you were that guitar so bad that you put your hand in your underwear slowly pushing two fingers inside already. You were soaking wet....for Minjeong. Stupid loud neighbor next door that you couldn't stand. You were so close, whimpering and moaning her name when you heard a knock. You opened it standing awkwardly and then you saw her.

"You called me didn't you Y/N?" You froze at her words gulping and shaking your head.

"But when I came by to give you cookies earlier and as I was about to knock you were like 'Minjeong...please go faster, please fuck me harder!' am I wron—" You covered her mouth with your hand before pulling her inside. She laughed making you even more frustrated.

You shut the door before kissing her hungrily. You were pathetic, yet you wanted her so bad.

"Easy there..." She pulled you back by your hair as you reached for her lips again.

"Fuck p-please I need you so bad...You don't understand I don't like you but..." You didn't even know what you were saying but she crashed her lips onto yours into a heated kiss once again.

"If you didn't like me already(you did), you sure will like me after tonight. Go on do what you want." You tugged at her pants, but you felt a bulge. Did she fucking had a strap on? Did she return the cookies just to put it on? She was such a fucking freak, still you wanted her so bad. You took her sweatpants off same as she slowly did for you.

"Damn Y/N, was I that good in the dream?" She whispered against your chest as you sat in her lap. How did she even know about that? Is she a stalker or something? Who knows how long she had been staying there listening.

"I hate you so much..." You said as you lowered yourself onto her strap. You slowly began to ride her as she just stared at your face. She was so fucking weird, but it kept turning you on. You kept going until you wanted more.

"I-I can't like this..." Right after you said it she picked you up, carrying you to your bed and gently placing you on it before climbing on top.

—

You didn't even know what time you were coming already, you just know she didn't stop slamming into you at an insane pace making your head spin. There were tears at the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself getting close for the who knows what time.

"I can't...I'm close again..." You mumbled, but its like you couldn't get enough of her. She wiped your tears away giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Do you want me to stop? Is it too much?" She stopped her movement instantly even tho she was slamming into you for the past 2 hours.

"D-Don't you fucking stop p-please Minjeong..." You put your arms around her neck pulling her closer as she continued.

"I'm coming M-Minjeo—" She kissed you, caressing your face as you came all over.

You both panted before she stood up from the bed, going to drink a glass of water and returning with another glass for you. She went to shower, carrying you with her. You didn't have a bathtub, so she had to hold you around your waist so you don't fall, since your legs were shaky.

"There, all done now baby!" She smiled, kissing your head. How did she still have so much energy?

She helped you dress up before tucking you into your bed, giving you a glass of water to freshen up. She slipped in there too, wrapping her arms around you.

"Do you think you're my girlfriend so you can hold me like this huh?" You mumbled, shifting closer to her.

"Stop being grumpy already. Can I be your girlfriend then Y/N?" Her words were soft and sweet. You turned around, facing her and looking into her big brown eyes. She looked at you like she wanted you to say yes more than anything.

"Only if you stop posting guitar videos so much. You are too good at it...Girls will obsess..." You mumbled as she pulled you closer by your waist.

"Promise on my comic books!" She held her pinky out, waiting for yours. She was so childish and you didn't know how you used to hate that. It just made her so adorable.

"Keep it down..." You teased her and she snuggled even closer like she wasn't already close enough.

"Couldn't say the same to you an hour ago..." You hit her playfully and she just laughed. After some time, you both fell asleep in each others arms.

A/N: Okay yall I wanted to write for Minjeong for so long so I hope yall will like this one too!

#kim minjeong x fem reader #wlw #kim minjeong #winter x fem reader #aespa winter #winter aespa #fem reader #aespa

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vipers-current-obsession · 3 days ago

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When Shen Qingqiu regained his body back from the imposter who had stolen it, his first action was to attack the Beast who had his grubby hands on him.

He didn't know exactly what had happened up to that point, but he did know that he had just had a qi deviation and that he should be waking up on his peak. Instead, he opened his eyes and he was falling off a fucking building. Before he could even think about saving himself, a man grabbed him tight and landed safely with him in his arms.

As soon as he got his bearings, he snapped out, "Put me down." Instead, he felt the arms holding him tighten, so naturally, he lashed out. With his qi still sluggish from the deviation, he didn't make much progress, but Yue Qingyuan and Liu Qingge soon came and the man let him down, if reluctantly. He marched right over to their sides, a little surprised that there was no attempt to grab him.

When he turned around to try to make sense of what the hell just happened, he was surprised to find that he recognized the man who had grabbed him. Luo Binghe. The beast. And yet wasn't he just a boy? The one in front of him was a man, and, he noted, a demon, made obvious from the zuiyin on his forehead.

A fan was drawn to cover his face (why doesn't he recognize it?) as he icily questions what was happening. The beast is crying as he explains that he didn't mean it and that he was sorry, Shizun and don't ever do that again, please.

Useless.

Well, at the very least he knows that he did something he can't remember (hopefully trying to kill that beast).

He bites out, "Can someone who's not incompetent tell me what's going on? What happened after my qi deviation?"

Liu Qingge gave him a strange look, presumably because he's an idiot who doesn't keep track of the goings on of the sect. Yue Qingyuan let out a little gasp and when they clarify which, exactly, qi deviation he was referring to, he starts to herd them, barring the beast, back to their carriages so he could explain everything in private.

At the blatant dismissal of the beast, his tightened fist obviously draws blood, but he storms off instead of lashing out, his face a storm of negative emotions.

As they rode back to the sect, Yue Qingyuan explained what had happened. Apparently, his qi deviation was 6 years (6! Years!) ago. After the deviation, he had awoken with much less memories than before, but he also seemed to have a change of heart. Here Yue Qingyuan hesitated, long enough for the brute to interrupt.

"You were actually likable." he said, with all the grace of a boar. A thousand insults rested on the tip of Shen Qingqiu's tongue in response, but Yue Qingyuan quickly intervened, shooing Liu Qingge out of earshot.

"The deviation did change you quite a lot, which we found suspicious, but none of our tests came back positive for possession. As far as we could tell, the amnesiac was you"

Within his heart, he knew that there was no chance of him being a likable person. He'd rather cut his own tongue off than to insincerely compliment and fawn over others. There wasn't a kind bone in his body. Which, Yue Qingyuan should have known.

As much as he loathed him now, they grew up together. They were thick as thieves back then, even if Yue Qingyuan had eventually abandoned him for greener pastures, he had laughed when Shen Qingqiu picked up a rock to bash another kid's brains in. He had watched him lie, cheat, and steal for just one more coin. He was the one Shen Qingqiu confided in when the anger he felt towards the world was too much. He was the one who witnessed him as his youngest and most naive self, and even then Shen Qingqiu spat at the world without an ounce of kindness.

Anyone else, he could scoff and bite back at for believing he could be kind because he knew they were stupid enough to not know better, but Yue Qingyuan?

"Did that imposter give you everything you wanted?" he asked, deceptively calm.

A wide eyed stare greeted him as Yue Qingyuan froze, as he seemed to always do in the face of questioning. "What?"

He scoffed, "Clearly I was there alongside the imposter, had you tried literally anything I would have been able to regain my body. Instead, you were, what? Content to play house with a stranger as long as he wore my face? A kind and likable me? What a farce. You knew that wasn't me and you did nothing to free me."

In the silence that remained, all he wanted was an explanation. For Yue Qingyuan to say that he tried and failed. For him to say literally anything other than the words that he knew was coming, because when did he ever say anything else?

Yue Qingyuan averted his eyes, like always, and said, "I'm sorry." Like. Always.

Because all that man knew how to do was abandon others in their time of need and then apologize, as if that made anything better.

Whatever, it's not like being abandoned by him was anything new.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan #yue qingyuan #ficlet #scum villain

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bluetimeombre · 5 hours ago

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Losing my religion

[to everyone who has ever said to me, watch the last of us, I hope you’re happy, I’ll never know peace again. This isn’t proof read.]

tw: death, blood, guns, curse words, allusions to suicide

The last of us II spoilers

(GIF not mine)

Abbey knew that for the murderer of her father to feel just an ounce of what she felt, it wouldn't be enough to hurt him, not even to kill him.

No, she'd have to take away something he cared about. Something more. He needed to live with the pain he'd created.

She lingered at her father's grave, where the other Fireflies that were murdered that day were buried. Her friends- the others who thirsted for vengeance- lingered. They didn't want it like her. Didn't need it like her.

Abbey glanced over her shoulder at them. "I want him to hurt like me. I want him... I want him alive."

But the reports had said there were two that day in the hospital. Two murderers. She wanted you.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ ▬▬ι═════════

"You know I should come with you," said Joel as you sorted your horse, checking everything was strapped. "Don't like you being alone out there."

"Hey!" protested Dina who was already a-top her horse, offended.

Joel waved her off. Sure there was Dina but she'd become as much one of yours as Ellie was. You loved Dina, adored her. And god Joel could see how much she was like you. Witty, strong, never afraid. It terrified him, especially when you patrolled not at his side.

You smiled at him, pulling on your gloves. "You and Ellie should patrol, c'mon it's the first time she's been talkin' to us without storming away at the end."

Your's, Joel's and Ellie's situation was something completely unique that the town of Jackson had been privy to since you'd arrived. She'd moved out the house into the garage and you'd lost count of how often you'd caught Joel staring at the place from the window. Or the nights you'd linger on the porch, nursing a cup of coffee just to check on her.

Finally, progress was being made. You were pushing them into it.

"We could all go," suggested Joel, hands on his hips.

"Family patrol?" you chuckled, eyeing him through the rising sun.

He wasn't amused.

Sighing, you patted her yours and handed the reins to Dina to hold. You could tell Joel was trying to keep his scowl in place as he looked down at you, the lines of his eyes and forehead creasing, the greys in his hair blending with the snow. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Slowly your arms sneak around his waist, his hands still on his hips as he remained stern.

"Baby," he whispered.

"This is just patrol, i've done in hundreds of times before," you remind him.

"Once without me at you side, darlin'," he reminded you.

"And everything was fine," you arms wrap further around him as Joel tutted, finally resting his arm around your shoulder. Your smile faltered a bit. "Just try with Ellie, ok? I know what we did was justified to us but to her.... she's always wanted more than she is. Just try to meet her where she is."

Joel watched you, chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. His gaze softened as he took in your words.

"For me? For us." You fluttered your lashes at him and gave him a smile.

He'd have given you the damn world for the taking if you'd just asked him. "Damn woman," he muttered, kissing at top your head. It was a yes. You knew it. "Should've kept you in bed."

"You should've persuaded me."

Joel rose a brow. "I can persuade you now?" his hand sneaked down to your bum, tapping it in promise.

"Gross!" Dina yelled.

"Down, old boy," you chastise, slipping through his arms.

Joel was old. Older than you by some decades, but he was enough of a man to pull you back in and kiss you fiercely. He knew you'd come back to him, you always did. Even when he was a stubborn man and didn't want to feel how he felt, you pushed and pushed until you were standing where you are today.

When you part there's no teasing from Dina. You lick your lips to keep the taste of him as you travel. "Go get our girl," you tell him.

Joel runs his hands over your shoulders. He could hardly feel you through all the layers. Which was good. You were warm, you were safe. "You're my girl. My girls."

He walked you to your horse and you swung on. He took the reins from Dina and placed them in your gloved hands. "Be safe, babygirl."

You nodded, kicking your horse to go as he passed a nod to Dina.

Joel walked behind the two of you, watching you head out the gates and into the snow covered lands. His heart was steady, his hand didn't tremble. Because soon you'd be back in his arms and he'd take you to bed and hols you that extra ten minutes he wanted in bed that morning.

As the gates closed he walked with them, keeping an eye on you.

Your retreating figure was becoming a blur without his glasses, yet he could just make out your hands coming up to your chest and cupping the sign of a heart. For him.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ ▬▬ι═══════════

You practically carried Dina through the doors of the lodge that Abbey had told you was safe. "Easy, easy, you're ok, I got you," you mumbled as you held her, arms working against hers to warm her. You'd thrown off your scarf, your parker and put it on her.

You were doing everything to keep her safe. To keep her warm that caution was out the window. Almost.

You had Joel's voice in the back of your head, telling you how dangerous this was, relying on strangers. Strangers with guns no less.

But you'd saved the girl from a horde, had taken her in. She owed you. In a fucked up world, you liked to think debts still stood some ground.

You should've thought to turn back when the snow got worse, or when radio signal got patchy. When you saw flumes of black smoke coming from the town you should've pushed your horse through but Dina was blue with cold and the girl had promised you had blankets and guns.

Looking back it was too easy, you should've caught it.

You put Dina at the fire as Abbey's friends saw to her. You looked out the windows, saw only snow with the dull glow of a fire. Your town, your home.

Joel wouldn't have taken a chance with the storm. He would've returned with Ellie. You almost hoped he was huddled somewhere like you and Dina.

"Jackson, come in!" you called into the radio, begging for reach even though you'd had none before. "Tommy you there? Anybody over radio!"

"Her name is Dina," said Abbey to her friend, "and she is Y/N."

The shift happened while your back was to the room. Foolish.

"Y-Y/N," Dina's weak voice came through to your senses.

A gun to her head. An arm around her throat.

You hand flew to your gun that you'd stupidly put at your belt but another held a gun to you. So you showed your weakness, hands up.

"We're not gonna hurt her," said Abbey.

"Then put the gun down," you said while another of Abbey's disarmed Dina and yourself. You hardly felt her hands on you, taking the guns as your eyes stayed on Dina as she was put to sleep. "Whatever you want, take it, just leave her alone."

Abbey scoffed as you peeled away her jacket. "Who do you think we are?"

You judged them: A small group, well stocked, well adjusted. "Fireflies?" you'd had nightmares about things like this, the people you'd killed haunting you.

Joel had always saved you from them.

You hoped he didn't come to this one.

"Haven't you heard, there are no more fireflies. They're all gone."

You rose a brow as your gaze flicked to Dina. She was breathing. She was asleep. It'd be a challenge to get her out of here- because you would get out of here- but at least she wouldn't bare witness to what would go down. It would go down. Five armed vs you. It seemed impossible but you had to get Dina out. So anything was possible.

"I'm gonna give you one chance to tell the truth," said Abbey. She was un-armed, arms over her chest. "If you do, i'll let her live."

You note shock from a couple of her friends, not as well-oiled a machine as it seemed.

"Wait Abbey-"

"Shut up!"

"What do you wanna know?" you asked, surprisingly calm in the face of your own danger.

Abbey levelled her gaze on you "Where was the last place you saw the Fireflies?"

That's what it was all about. Those damn bugs. They'd ruin everything. You could almost guess what was happening, the plan of vengeance laid put before you. You knew how powerful it was and for a second a flicker of doubt crossed your mind.

You looked back to Dina. "Salt lake."

Abbey hummed, nodding and walking the room. "And are you Joel Miller's woman?"

Perhaps you shouldn't have goaded the ones with the guns, but Ellie had to get her attitude from somewhere.

"Why, jealous?"

Abbey picked up her shotgun and shot a bullet through your hip before you could flinch.

You went down cursing, sweat rolling down your brow as you gasped at the burst of pain. Again, not your first bullet but the pain always remained a new.

You rolled onto your back, pushing yourself up.

Dina hadn't stirred.

But Abbey walked to you. You didn't flinch as she got to a crouch in front of you. "You're tough. Guess you probably have to be killing all those people. Do you know how many you and your man killed that day?"

You knew. You remembered each bullet.

"Joel got fifteen soldiers, right?" said Abbey. "And you got two... and one doctor."

You were panting, feeling the blood ooze through your shirt. On the one day you'd chosen to wear white.

"You remember that one?" asked Abbey. "An un-armed doctor you shot in the head."

Yeah you knew that one. It was the last one before Marlene.

"Yeah, that was my dad. You probably already figured. The nurses say you barely even looked at him when you pulled the trigger and that you walked right past his body and out the door."

You knew at that moment, you weren't leaving. You cast one last look at the smoking Jackson and quickly made peace with the fact it would be over, soon hopefully. When you looked back at Abbey, tears of frustration pooled in her eyes. "Yeah."

She nodded. "I looked at him. I saw him. I was nineteen."

Ellie was nineteen. You'd only had a few months to see that. Your ears rung with the fact you wouldn't see twenty, or twenty-one. Wouldn't see how Dina and Ellie grew up together, or Tommy's boy who you'd held since he was a baby.

You wouldn't see Tommy.

You would never see Joel again. The only peace that came with that fact was that he wouldn't fine you up here, no radio, no tracks in the snow. You'd be lost to him forever. But Dina, Dina would be lost to. She'd wake and do the only sensible thing: leave you and save herself. Maybe she'd break the news gently or maybe she'd cry, you'd like to think you meant something to her.

You wished she'd lie and tell them you were lost in the storm, or that you'd gotten bitten by an infected and shot yourself to stop the change. You just hoped Joel would forgive himself.

Oh, Joel.

".....there are some things that just everyone agrees are fucking wrong."

You didn't know what Abbey had said before that but you nodded. It was wrong what you did, how easy and brutal killing that day was. Yet you didn't believe in much goodness nower days.

Then Abbey spotted the golf clubs.

Then her mind was set as she went to pick one out.

"You know it's funny, I have waited so-"

"I'm in pain enough as it is Abbey, can we begin already?!" you called. You were lucky enough to miss one of her speeches, you didn't want to suffer another.

Abbey picked one and wielded it like a sword as she loomed over you, your breaths coming harder as your brain screamed for you to do something. "You... you don't get to rush this."

The first blows came in blood-curdling screaming.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ ▬▬ι═══════════

Joel didn't know what to expect when him and Ellie came across a lodge. He honestly didn't know. He was a man torn by the smoke of Jackson, by the fire that had begun with the infected and the news that he'd caught in crackles over the fraying radio signal.

'No... Di... N... Y/N.'

They'd scoured the snow covered lands as the storm let up, further showing Jackson's destruction. But when he caught sight of yours and Dina's horse left out he had to go further.

He and Ellie walked in. There was quiet. There was nothing. Small puddles on the floor, maybe you'd passed through and were resting.

Then, Joel and Ellie caught the noise of thuds from above. Of grunting. Nothing else but thudding and yells of anguish. Not pain. Of anguish.

He motioned for Ellie to stay behind as he led the way, gun raised, following the noises.

The room was ahead and maybe he should've thought more about what he could've found. But it wouldn't be you hurt. You never laid down and let yourself take it, so that was the last thing he expected to see.

He hadn't even took note of the room as he nudged the door open. Hadn't looked at the others in the room. He hadn't even thought that him and Ellie could've taken them if they'd gone in already shooting. Because he hadn't thought to see you bloody on the floor.

A girl was knelt next to you, raining fist after fist upon a face that he was already marred with your blood.

"Joel!" Ellie yelled as she made shot out, hoping for something, anything.

A body barrelled into her at the same time as one did to Joel.

A shot rang through the room as bullet lodged itself into his knee and sent him down with a thud.

"Motherfuckers!" Ellie yelled before she was wacked in the head, crumbling to the floor and out cold.

Joel was punched in the face and his sight blurred. When it came back, you were still there, drenched in your own blood. Two of the bodies held him down, held him down so that his face was pushed onto the hard wood floor and forced to stare at you.

Abbey actually smiled.

"Y/N!" he called out.

Your finger twitched. The eyelid that wasn't black and swollen fluttered. You were still there, swinging by a pulling thread.

Joel's voice caught in his throat. "That's it baby, look at me, just look at me, focus on me!"

Your eye closed again.

"Don't you dare! Y/N, look at me!" he yelled, spit flying. He pushed his body, focused the white agony of his knee into fury but there were two bodies on top of him and another kicked him in the chin.

"No!" yelled Abbey, the first time she'd spoken since she'd started her assault. "I want him to watch."

Joel spat blood on the ground. Now, it was marked with the both of you. He turned his head back to you. Not to accommodate Abbey but to see you and only you.

"Listen to me, baby, you're gonna be fine," his voice cracked. He wasn't an optimist like you but by god was he planning all the ways you would die of old age at his side in his bed. He damn right prayed that this wasn't happening again, as he was helpless. "Please, don't do this!"

Abbey punched you in the face once more. You body jerked.

"Stop please!" he cried. "Y/N, come on baby girl, get up! Just get up, honey!"

Nothing.

"Fucking get up!"

Abbey took joy in the fact you weren't.

"C'mon, baby, open those damn eyes and focus on me! Get up! Fuck!" he was using ever trick he could think of, thrashing around against the bodies holding him down.

Abbey huffed, assessing how much more she wanted this.

"No, no, no," he could see the life draining from you as you lost hope. "Baby... ba-baby, don't do this to me. You can't. Please," Joel cried. "Get up!" he then roared.

You tried. He saw it. He wasn't mad with grief. He saw it. He saw your fingers twitch and your eyelid flutter open, your eye, red from a popped blood vessel, looked at him.

You tried. Let it be known that for him, you tried.

Joel's lips tilted into something like a smile of relief. "That's good, baby, you're doing so well. Just get up, c'mon just get up, get up."

Your face was covered by heavy boots and a hand reaching for the broken golf club.

That bitch had broken it with how hard she'd beaten you.

"No," he sobbed. Joel started screaming, started losing his mind. "No, no, no, please. Kill me- just- just kill me! Please, not my baby! Not my baby. Me!"

And he yelled and screamed and sobbed and cried as the sharp end of the golf club was thrust once into your neck.

His throat ripped and his knee was suddenly nothing. The bodies of you and his daughter blended into one as he thrusted around, banging his head onto the floor. Whether it was to kill himself or just to erase the way your body twitched once more as they blade met its target.

He just wanted it all done with.

When he looked back up he looked at Abbey and not you. In fact, he took note of every person in that room, every feature of their face, satisfied by what they'd done or shocked at the ruthlessness.

Joel didn't have to say anything because his promise weighed heavy on them all.

Abbey had just started the cruellest cycle of revenge.

He made those promises to himself even as boots were kicked into his gut, stealing his breath and breaking his ribs. Even when they all ran off and he was free to move he was counting their steps and thinking of all the places they would never be able to hide because he would find them.

Pain was a dear friend of his and he'd call in a few debts to be owed.

When Joel was free he crawled back home. Back to you. The thing that kept him stable, that gave him love after Sarah's death.

"Baby?" his finger tips brushed yours.

You didn't move. Your gaze looked past him.

Joel wrapped his fingers around the club and- with a trembling breath- pulled it out. He yelled out in pain with the movement, killing him.

"Baby?"

There was nothing. Just nothing.

"C'mon baby," he ignored every pain of his just to hold you in his arms again, cradling you close. "I know, baby, I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts- you're ok, you're ok."

Joel spoke as if you were still hanging on, as if you weren't already gone. Maybe he was just going through the motions of it all, of losing the happiness of his life all over again. Or maybe he was trying to convince himself it would all be ok.

"C'mon let me get you up, baby, I've got to get you up," he moved so you were in his lap, your body pressing into his bashed knee. He'd never walk again but that was fine. He didn't want to walk away from you. "I know baby, I know, shh, I've got you, I've got you."

His head buried into your matted and bloody hair. In spite of all the blood you still smelt like him. You didn't smell like yourself, you liked to smell like him. He wished you had a scent that wasn't tainted.

Joel's sobs rocked both your bodies as he pulled you into him, trying to bury your body inside of him. "Get up. Baby, get up. Oh baby, please get up."

And the ground was too cold to dig. They wouldn't bury you till summer.

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zone-score · 2 days ago

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"transmascs are too visible" where. WHERE??? BESIDES BEING A GOTCHA CUDGEL WE GET JACK SHIT!!!!

"Men shouldn't police women's bodies, if men could get pregnant then-" IS A CLASSIC EXAMPLE OF ERASURE, EVEN IF ACCIDENTAL, IT'S STILL A SYSTEMIC ISSUE

I need "progressive" cis people, ESPECIALLY CIS QUEERS WHO SHOULD KNOW BETTER- to get it through their thick fuckin skulls; WE ARE NEVER FUCKING VISIBLE UNLESS IT'S CONVENIENT TO USE US AS WEAPONS TO TRANSPHOBIC ARGUMENTS. THE DEATHS OF MY BROTHERS ARE ERASED, REDUCED TO "person" WITH THEIR TRANSNESS CAST ASIDE ESPECIALLY IF IT'S TMOC

Don't. Punch. Down. At. Me. And. My. Brothers. You. Spineless. COWARDS.

> See another Fuck Trans Guys Specifically post

> OP going on about how REAL trans men SHOULD act and how transmascs who speak on their oppression should be hunted for sport, transmascs are too visible their audacity etc

> Open OP’s blog

> Cis

Yeah this is normal ❤️ This is a normal attitude for a cis person to have towards transgender people. Y’all are super normal 😀❤️

#transandrophobia #pregnancy mention #i agree with u op #if it wasnt clear #also banger avi #there's my rage #there's my anger #RISE RISE RISE RISE-#murder mention tw #violence mention

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sanguinesky-if · 6 hours ago

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[Dev Log] May 2025

Hello, I hope you're doing great!

As for my progress, here's a quick overview of my activity over the past month and my plans for the current one.

[Announcement] Patreon billing will be paused starting May 25 for one month to finish the update.

The work on the update is well underway, and since I've decided to add more content that was discussed in this post [public post on Patreon], I'll need one more month to finish it.

That said, the early release of Chapter 3 Pt. 2 is scheduled for the end of June.

At the end of May, I'll share more sneak peeks [for Morgan's, R's, and I's scenes], and reach out to the readers who have helped me with grammatical mistakes in the past to ask if they'd be interested in beta reading.

I hope this will help ensure the update contains fewer grammatical mistakes before it's released on Patreon and then publicly.

What was done last month?

▹ Chapter 3 Pt. 2: finished working on Morgan's and R's scene + made some improvements.

Aside from finishing the ROs' scenes, the list of improvements includes:

Making the small sex scene with secondary rivals available after some of the ROs' scenes.

Previously, the small sex scene with secondary rivals was only available as a separate scene that had to be selected instead of the scene with one of the ROs. While working on the update, I realized that was a very poor decision and coded it differently, making it available as a choice for the reader at the end of the scene with some of the ROs.

Adding the opportunity to unlock certain jealousy moments using alignment [approval] points.

While I was reviewing one of the completed scenes, I saw an opportunity to code a specific narrative variation involving jealousy using alignment [approval] points. This made me reconsider all planned jealousy moments, and I've decided that starting from Chapter 3 Pt. 2, readers will be able to trigger some jealousy variations if they have enough romance or alignment points. The alignment requirement will always be higher than the romance one [+1 or +2 compared to romance points]. I hope this change will be appreciated by the readers who don't want to flirt with other ROs but still want to experience at least some jealousy moments, even though it will be very occasionally.

What will I be working on in April?

▹ Chapter 3 Pt. 2: outlining and coding [I's, T's, and S's scenes].

In addition to that, the bonus content on Patreon that will be released this month will include:

▹ K's Short Story. ▹ T's POV [Chapter 3 Pt. 1].

Author's Note.

Just like in the previous dev log, I want to thank everyone who sent me messages and apologize if you didn't receive a reply.

Right now, my mind is completely focused on finishing the update, which makes me less socially active and attentive than I should be.

After the update, I'll try to be more active here, since I already have plans for what's next [some of which include NSFW content for both Patreon and public releases 😏].

Also, some of the questions I've received are already answered in the Q&A post, so please check there first to see if you can find the answer you'd like to know.

Thank you for reading to the end! Wishing you a wonderful week and days after that! ♥

#interactive fiction #if game #if wip #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #ss general #dev log

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carawenfiction · 3 days ago

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Update: Poll result and my plan for the coming weeks.

Hello everyone!

A week ago, I made a poll asking your opinion about the potential inclusion of adult themes and NSFW content in the rewrite of "The Shadow Society", which is a bit of a shift from the original. 94.5% of those who voted said YES to this change. It makes me really happy since it’s a change I wanted, myself. I’ll of course add content warnings in the game about whatever I end up including.

I've gotten some great feedback from a few people regarding chapter 1 that I really want to work on further - so I'm going to spend some doing that while simultaneously working on chapter 2. The demo will be temporarily privated while I work on it since I want to avoid breaking people's saves. I don't know whether it'll be inaccessible for a few days, a week or a month; it all depends on how much progress I make and whether I potentially want to include the start of chapter 2 when I make it public again.

Another point is that, by IF standards, the demo is incredibly short atm. I think it might benefit from being "re-released" when it's longer, although that would take some time. I'm unsure how I'll approach it, but I'll make sure to let you know once I've decided!

The new chapter (chapter 2) is around 14k word excluding code at the moment. It's still very much at its beginning, and though I can't say how long the chapter is going to be when it's done, I'm not even halfway through yet. Even so I've decided that, once I get to 20k words, I'll edit what I've got and release what's available as a playable early access sneak peek sort of thing on my Patreon for the 'rebel' tier members.

I hope to have the entire unedited version of the chapter done in a month and that I can release the full, edited version of it on my Patreon in June. It's an optimistic estimate, but I like setting deadlines for myself since it helps me stay on track and focus better :)

Have a great day and take care of yourselves!

#the shadow society #tss #carawenfiction #interactive fiction #update #if #cog #hosted games #choice of games #writing #writing update

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meowjuz · 1 day ago

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You were attempting to bake Martha Kent's famous apple pie. Flour dusted your hair and the kitchen looked like a small, sugary explosion had occurred. You were currently wrestling with the rolling pin, trying to get the stubborn dough to cooperate, muttering under your breath.

Suddenly, a gentle breeze ruffled the curtains, and a familiar figure was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a bemused smile playing on his lips. It was Clark.

He watched your valiant struggle for a moment before quietly saying, "Having a little... domestic disturbance?"

You glared at the dough, then at him, leaving a smear of flour on your cheek as you pointed the rolling pin accusingly. "This dough is actively fighting me, Clark. I think it's sentient."

Clark chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the kitchen, carefully navigating the minefield of spilled flour and apple chunks. "Maybe it just needs a little... super persuasion?" He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. "Oh, I'm sure your heat vision would be very persuasive, but I'd rather not end up with a carbonized apple crisp."

He feigned offense. "Hey! I have excellent control. I could probably just... warm it into submission." He made a dramatic gesture with his hands, as if focusing heat vision on the dough.

"Yeah, and probably set off the smoke detector while you're at it," you retorted, finally managing to flatten a section of the dough into a vaguely circular shape. It was still lopsided but progress was progress.

Clark leaned over and peered at your handiwork. "It's... rustic," he offered diplomatically.

"Rustic and slightly terrifying," you corrected. "My culinary skills clearly peaked at making toast."

He chuckled again and reached out, gently taking the rolling pin from your flour-covered hands. "Here, let me show you a trick." He then proceeded to effortlessly roll out the dough into a perfect circle with a few smooth movements, making it look ridiculously easy.

You watched, jaw slightly dropped. "Okay, that's just showing off."

"Maybe a little," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "But hey, at least we'll have a pie that doesn't resemble abstract art."

You playfully swatted his arm, leaving a white streak on his shirt. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Super Kneader."

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. "Well, someone has to bring the super to supper." He carefully placed the dough in the pie dish. "Now, about that apple filling..."

You both spent the next few minutes well mostly Clark assembling the pie, with you occasionally "supervising" and offering helpful commentary. By the time the pie was finally in the oven, the kitchen was still a disaster, but the air was filled with the promising scent of cinnamon and apples, and you were both laughing.

"You know," Clark said, leaning against the counter, his arm around your waist, leaving a floury smudge on your back, "maybe we should just stick to you handling the eating part of baking."

You leaned your head on his shoulder, a smile in your voice. "Sounds like a delicious plan."

#clark kent x reader #smallville x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent fanfiction #smallville fanfic #superman x reader #tom welling #tom welling x reader

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xylatox · 3 days ago

Text

And the final part of Patty's fic is here 🥹 I absolutely cannot believe it. Unto my thoughts!!

He said nothing and tried to not react outwardly, but something fluttered low in his chest. Sometimes, when you had all the shirts you used as pyjamas in the wash, you took one of Sunghoon’s. He had so many shirts from training camps or competitions that were in his pyjama drawer that he didn’t really care if you stole one once in a while. — this made me so giddy what the fuck???? AH

And the entire moment with the stickers throughout the fic was so cute :(

“And if you play your cards right, monkey stickers are forever,” Heeseung grinned, skating backward.—Hee really is their biggest fan, it's so cute:( I love them so bad

He squinted at the calendar and took a step closer, “The cat is cute. I am proud of you, Y/N. Look, even your little kitty is proud of you for eating so well.”—This was so fucking cute like???? I want someone to do this for me too :(((((

ALSO WHEN HE STAYED UP WITH HER BUT FELL ASLEEP😭😭THAT IS LOVE

I will also never get over Hoon reassuring mc that she deserves love, like that was such a comforting moment :(((

The entire moment where her assignment gets pushed earlier and she's stressed breaks me. I absolutely love how realistic it is but God it doesn't hurt any less.

I still think one of my all favorite moments was the pancakes being well-loved by the stove :) I just absolutely loved that.

And when the boys came over to help too!! I love them so dearly I hope you know that.

Jake thinking mc is cute is so him coded, he's such a cutie pie I'll die.

I love the moment mc has with Jay in the kitchen too!! there's something so comforting about it.

Patty. The almost kiss will always drive me fucking insane I swear to God. Like my chest still goes haywire because ?!?!?!?

And they finally fucking kissed AHHHHH😭😭😭😭🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS AHHHHH. THEY. ARE. SO. CUTE.

“You’re doing just fine,” he reassured you, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss. —😔😔😔 FUCKKKKK.

You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed . “I- no- no it's nice. I like kissing you.” — she's so fucking cute I love women so bad👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

I'm so giddy over how their relationship progressed??? like they're so cute and make me want to be in a relationship so bad. Like I love every moment and they way Hoon was so reassuring :(

And like the short moment with Wonie at dinner and when Hoon saw she cut her here??? I'm soft like there are no other words to say how much I love them

Heeseung tilted his head, that familiar glint in his eye. “Remember what I told you? Way back when? If you played your cards right, those monkey stickers would stay forever?” — this still makes me so giggly, Hee is such a cutie and the ending was so fucking sweet😭🥹

I will forever be grateful to Patty and her work, it really is such a blessing to read it all the time. I'm so glad I was apart of this ride, it really was so beautifully done I wish i could bend it and keep this story with me always ♡

nine and three quarters pt. 3 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

⭑.ᐟ Roommate to Lovers - Park Sunghoon Somehow, in the middle of your semester break, you ended up with a new roommate. Your landlord rented out the second room in your flat without telling you, and now you’re living with Sunghoon. At first, your paths barely cross – you’re buried in work, and he’s always at the rink. But slowly, he slips into your routine in ways you never expected. Then one night, everything shifts. A blurred memory, a moment of fear—and Sunghoon catching you before you can fall. Suddenly, it’s not awkward anymore. You start looking forward to him coming home. Maybe—just maybe—home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person.

ᝰ genre. Figure skater!Sunghoon, college sports, angst, hurt/comfort, SO MUCH FLUFF!!! FINALLY!!! ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings. Swearing, partying, consumption of alcohol, hospital visits, mentions of rape, mentions of date-rape-drugs, mentions of the police, panic attacks, eating disorder, psychologists .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ features. Mark, Johnny, Taeyong & Jungwoo from NCT, Woonyoung and Rei from IVE ᝰ word count. 25.k .ᐟ₊ ⊹ --⟢ PART 1 --⟢ PART 2

series masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

Flowers. There were flowers. You bought flowers. That was the first thing Sunghoon noticed when he came home after class a few days after the break ended. He dropped his bag onto one of the chairs in the kitchen and took two big steps towards the window. A small bouquet of purple flowers was standing in the vase he bought you at the market. The scent of the flowers was sweet and hardy, filling the kitchen.

The next thing he noticed was how full the kitchen was. The basket you used for fruit, which was standing on the kitchen table, was usually empty since fresh produce is quite expensive, but today it was filled to the brim with apples, bananas, mangos, and tangerines. The fridge was full of vegetables and two cartons of eggs. He blinked into the fridge. This was a lot of food. You were barely able to eat a plate of eggs and cucumber, so why did you buy so much? How did you carry all of this upstairs? The elevator was still broken, and he had noticed that just walking up the 4 flights of stairs without a bag was already hard for you, so how did you…

“Sunghoon!” A warm palm clapped gently against his back, and Sunghoon turned with a quiet jolt. Mark was standing in front of him with a big grin adorning his face. “Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, a little breathless. “I didn’t know you were visiting today.” Mark shrugged with a smile, sitting down on a kitchen chair. “Y/N asked me to go to the market with her and I didn’t want her to carry all of the stuff alone, so I just came along.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing again at the overflowing fruit basket and the fridge. “This is a lot of food.” Mark laughed under his breath. “Yeah, I kinda went overboard. She let me pick up too much stuff. She said you two eat together sometimes, so I figured—why not get enough for both of you? Johnny and Taeyong gave her money for groceries anyway. I just made her spend it.”

Sunghoon gave a soft huff of laughter, eyes still on the fridge. “It’s just… a lot. She usually doesn’t—” “I know,” Mark cut in, voice softer now. Sunghoon turned to look at him, but Mark’s gaze was fixed on the fruit basket. “She’s trying,” Mark said quietly. “But it helps when someone’s eating with her. Even if it’s just rice and cucumber. Even if she can’t finish everything. Just... not doing it alone makes it easier. So I thought maybe if we bought enough for the two of you, you could start cooking and eating together? I know you aren't really that close with Y/N, or well, I don't really know, Y/n and I haven't exactly been talking a lot, she was kinda avoiding us all. But I was hoping you could maybe just…help a bit.” Sunghoon swallowed thickly. He didn’t know you were avoiding your brother. He was wondering why Mark was never over. When he first met Mark, it seemed like you two spent a lot of time together. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to help.” “You are.” Mark looked up and met his eyes, serious for a moment. “She told you what’s happening. That’s big.” Sunghoon nodded. “I’ll cook with her.”

Mark smiled again, this time smaller. “That always worked when we were teens. Even if I was eating three servings of curry, and she was barely finishing her salad. It was still better.” Footsteps echoed down the hallway and both of them looked up just as you stepped into the kitchen, towel still around your neck and damp hair brushing your collarbone. You were wearing one of Sunghoon’s shirts. He said nothing and tried to not react outwardly, but something fluttered low in his chest. Sometimes, when you had all the shirts you used as pyjamas in the wash, you took one of Sunghoon’s. He had so many shirts from training camps or competitions that were in his pyjama drawer that he didn’t really care if you stole one once in a while. “Hey,” you said, blinking at the two of them. “You didn’t put the mangoes in the fridge?” “You didn’t say where you wanted them,” Mark shot back easily. “Cold mangoes are elite, and you know it.” You moved toward the fruit basket, pushing your towel back from your shoulders. Sunghoon moved a step to the side to let you open the fridge door. As you opened the door, Mark’s eyes landed on the meal calendar you’d stuck on the fridge. His expression twisted into a grin.

“Are those the monkey stickers from Taeyong?” You froze. “Mark—” “Oh my god, you’re actually using them.” “They’re cute!” you defended, cheeks a little pink as you grabbed the sheet and stuck it to the fridge underneath Sunghoon’s new magnet from the aquarium in Busan. He was quite touched that you thought of him while you were at home. He imagined being home, visiting doctors, even if they were people you knew, wasn’t the most pleasant thing to do, and when you did something nice, you thought of him. He felt all giddy thinking about it. Mark laughed and threw his hands up. “You know what? You’re right. They are better than the strange dinosaurs Hyuck bought you. I am still haunted by the T Rex that had the head of another dinosaur in its mouth. You really didn’t have to use them.” “But Donghyuck Oppa bought them for me. And I didn’t want to be ungrateful.”, you huffed and leaned onto the counter next to Sunghoon. Your arms were touching, and it sent a warm sensation up his arm. Then Sunghoon’s stomach grumbled. Loudly.

The sound broke through the room like a slapstick sound effect, and you both froze. Then slowly, so slowly,you turned to look at him. His ears turned pink immediately. “…I guess I’m hungry,” he admitted, voice sheepish. You blinked at him, something gentle dancing behind your eyes. Then, very softly you asked: “Do you want to eat?” There was a pause. Not a long one. Just long enough for him to meet your eyes and realize you weren’t just asking him if he was hungry. You were asking if he wanted to eat with you. Sunghoon swallowed. Cleared his throat. “Spaghetti?” Mark, silently watching from the other side of the kitchen, perked up. “You two want me to chop something?”

You nodded without looking away from Sunghoon. “Only if you’re okay staying a little longer.” Mark grinned. “I’m not moving unless you kick me out.” Sunghoon smiled too, just a little. “We could use the veggies for the sauce. One of my friend’s girlfriends makes a protein bolognese for Jake all the time. Like, shredded carrots and lentils with beef.” “I’ll get the cutting board.” You moved to the cabinet and started pulling out the dry pasta. Sunghoon turned on the stove, filled a pot with water, and placed it on the burner. “Hey, could I turn on some music?” Mark asked after he washed a bell pepper. “Sure.”, you hummed beside Sunghoon, who was busy cutting the beef he still had in the fridge. You looked up at Sunghoon. “Can we use your speaker?” you asked softly. “Yeah,” Sunghoon said, a little distracted as he trimmed the fat from the beef. “It’s on my desk.”

He blinked a second later, realizing what he’d just said. Wait. His room. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. Mark, hearing him, raised a brow but didn’t comment. Sunghoon had just started mentally cataloging the chaos in his room when you returned, speaker in hand, looking completely unbothered. You handed it to Mark. He blinked. “Did you… find it okay?” “Yeah. It was right where you said.” You nodded and just turned back to the stove and stirred the sauce.

Mark hooked up his phone, and music started playing—something upbeat and chill, some indie R&B track.

Sunghoon stared at you for a second longer. The soft sway of your hair, the way your head bobbed gently to the beat while you stirred. You looked calm and so soft. A strand of your hair was falling forward, and he had the impulse to tuck it behind your ear. Somehow, he really had a thing for your hair. Whenever you were watching TV together, he somehow had a strand of hair between his fingers. He blinked and quickly looked away before either of you could catch him smiling.

────────────────────── Mark left after dinner and took the music with him. You stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up, drying a plate while Sunghoon rinsed the next one. He passed it to you without a word, hands brushing for the briefest second. “Thanks for cooking,” you said softly, folding the towel around the plate. “That was really good.” He gave a small, sheepish smile. “Thanks for helping. You ate a full portion.” Your eyes flicked up to his, surprised for a moment. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I did.” And then, with a little breath of something like pride, you turned and padded to the fridge.

Sunghoon watched as you peeled another monkey sticker from the sheet tucked into the side of the calendar and pressed it beside today’s date. It joined two others already in a row, little grinning faces in cartoon yellow. He couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth. His chest went warm, gentle, and a little achy. You glanced over your shoulder. “It’s kind of dumb, I know.” “It’s not,” he said quickly. You turned fully, arms crossed lightly over your front. The corners of your mouth twitched. “It’s a little dumb.” “It’s cute,” he corrected, flicking a bit of water off his fingers in your direction. You huffed a quiet laugh, your gaze dropping for a second.

Sunghoon picked up the last pan and scrubbed at it slowly, the tension in the room softening. The silence between you felt different now. Not awkward. He couldn’t really name the feeling, but he started to really like feeling like this. Comfortable. You leaned next to him a few minutes later, hip brushing his. A little closer than you would’ve stood a few weeks ago. He liked that. “You want tea?” you asked. He turned to you. “Only if we drink it on the sofa and watch people get dramatic over nothing again.” You grinned. “It’s not nothing. Their friend literally faked a pregnancy and then ghosted the guy.” “Yeah, but like. He kind of deserved it.” You snorted and went to fill the kettle. Sunghoon turned back to the sink and finished the dishes. He didn’t say it yet. Not out loud. But he was proud of you. So proud he felt like his chest couldn’t quite contain it.

────────────────────── The sound of blades scraping against the ice echoed sharply and hollowly through the near-empty rink. Sunghoon skated to the barrier and braced his hands on it, chest heaving. His reflection in the plexiglass was sweaty, flushed and scowling. He squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t landed a clean jump all morning. Two weeks ago, he’d flown. His legs had been light, movements clean, choreography crisp. Today he couldn’t even get through the first half of the routine. He slipped on a stupid step sequence and landed hard enough that his shoulder still ached. He pushed away from the barrier, gliding back to the center of the rink. His Coach wasn’t watching right now. He was yelling at one of the juniors on the other side. Sunghoon exhaled. Focus. The music started again, low and distant through the speakers. He took off, arms slicing through the air, each push of his skate a little too forceful. Too much. He turned into the first jump. And hit the ice again, hard. Flat on his side. “Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, clutching his elbow as the cold bled through his clothes. He stayed down for a second too long, his breath fogging up in front of his face. “What the hell is wrong with me,” he muttered, sitting up slowly. He could see a smear on the ice where he landed. His heart felt like it was rattling in his ribs. Anger, embarrassment, frustration. He pulled off his gloves, hands shaking slightly, and ran them over his face. The cold stung his skin. His eyes burned too. He climbed to his feet, teeth clenched. He didn’t know why he thought today would be better. ────────────────────── The figure skaters had cleared out half an hour ago. He could hear the ice hockey players in the rink's changing room. They would be out here in a few minutes. But Sunghoon didn’t move. He was sprawled on the ice, limbs spread in all directions, his chest rising and falling quickly. His program music played on repeat, louder now that the other skaters were gone. He barely twitched when a sharp hiss of skates sounded beside him, followed by a spray of snow that landed all over his glove. “Dude,” Heeseung’s voice rang out over him. “What happened to you?” Sunghoon blinked up at the ceiling. “I won’t pass the tryouts.” Heeseung stared down at him. “That’s funny,” he said flatly. “Because you said the exact same thing before Nationals and you second.” Sunghoon’s laugh was more of a groan. “Yeah, and I still don’t know how I pulled that off.” Heeseung crouched beside him on the ice, propped on the butt of his stick, brows raised. “Are you falling again or just giving up entirely?”

Sunghoon didn’t move. Just sighed and stared at the rafters overhead. “I’m not giving up. I just can’t land anything today. It’s like my body forgot what edges are.” Heeseung let out a low whistle. “I didn't know you're that dramatic.” “I’m serious,” Sunghoon muttered. “Tryouts are in two weeks, and I can’t even make it through one clean run. I barely made it through the warm-up jumps today. What if I already peaked?” “You said the same thing before Nationals.” “Yeah, and maybe I did peak there. Maybe that was it. My fluke moment.” Heeseung rolled his eyes. “You always say that. Then you pull a quad out of nowhere and land it like it’s nothing. Maybe you're just stressed. I mean the Olympic team is crazy. I would be stressed.” Sunghoon finally sat up, resting his arms on his knees. His gloves were wet from the ice, fingertips numb. “I am stressed, but I was stressed before the nationals too,” he said, quieter. “But it was different. I was worried about Y/N. And now she’s doing better. She’s eating. There’s a monkey sticker on that stupid meal calendar every single day. Sometimes even two. So I shouldn’t feel like this anymore.” Heeseung studied him for a second. “But you still do?” Sunghoon looked away. “I guess. It’s not her. She’s fine. I’m just… off.” Heeseung didn’t say anything for a beat. Then, softly, “You sure it’s not still her?” Sunghoon’s head snapped up. “I’m not—no. I can’t—she’s my roommate, Heeseung.” Heeseung shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you don’t care. You’re just not used to caring this much about someone off the ice.” “I care about you,” Sunghoon shot back defensively “Yeah,” Heeseung deadpanned, “but you don’t glue monkey stickers to a fridge for me.” Sunghoon’s ears went pink. “I’m just saying,” Heeseung went on, “You’re still you, Hoon. Just… someone else has your whole focus now. Someone who glues Monkey stickers to calendars.” Sunghoon didn’t answer. Not because he disagreed. But because he didn’t know how to say that the idea scared him just as much as it warmed him. He picked at the edge of his skate and stood. “Tryouts are in two weeks.” “And if you play your cards right, monkey stickers are forever,” Heeseung grinned, skating backward. “Shut up.”

──────────────────────

The apartment was dark when Sunghoon finally stepped inside.

He dropped his bag quietly by the door, the soft clink of his keys the only sound in the quiet. He slipped off his shoes and let the door close behind him with a soft thud. It was close to midnight. You were asleep. Probably. Sunghoon padded into the kitchen on socked feet. He felt a little sore from the extra reps and the weight session in the gym. He'd showered at the rink, taken a half-hour nap on the office couch while Heeseung’s girlfriend typed away at her computer. Sunghoon really liked her. Heeseung and her have been dating for almost a year now. When he first met her, she was sitting in a wheelchair. Heeseung told him that she had gone through several surgeries after a car crash when she was younger. The crash cut her career short. He often had to think about that. How sometimes he wished he had a reason to just stop skating and get a normal job, have normal hobbies, but he also saw the way Heeseung’s girlfriend looked at the ice, with so much longing, it made his heart heavy. The kitchen was cool, the scent of whatever you ate for dinner was still faint in the air. The sink held one plate and a fork, rinsed off neatly. His eyes went to the fridge without thinking. To today’s date. A shiny monkey sticker was pressed next to it. Not one, but two. He smiled slightly. You must’ve had a good day. Sunghoon walked over and pressed the tip of his finger to the little monkey face. The sticker crinkled slightly under his touch. There was a note, too. Scrawled quickly, in your handwriting, on a Post-it note just under the sticker. "Spaghetti with mushrooms and carrots, and that protein powder. Bon appétit!" He huffed a quiet laugh, even as something tugged tight in his chest. He reached out, brushing his thumb gently over the corner of the sticky note. Sunghoon heated the rest of the pasta you'd portioned out for him, plating it carefully despite the hour. He sat down at the kitchen table with it, elbows on the wood, bare feet tucked up under the chair. A part of him wanted to go peek into your room just to see you. But he didn’t. He sat in the kitchen eating his dinner, letting his heart slow, his breath even out, his shoulders finally drop.

────────────────────── You were in a good mood when you left the house. The sun had been out when you stepped onto the pavement. You’d remembered to bring your water bottle and the playlist you’d put on during the bus ride was perfect for the mood outside. Even your coffee hadn’t tasted like dirt. You slipped into your lecture seat and pulled out your sketchbook. You’d started your last assignment over, more organized this time, cleaner. It felt nice to look at your own work and not instantly hate it. And for once, you weren’t behind. Not truly.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Sunghoon: Y/N do you want new stickers? Daiso has cute ones rn Im gonna bu them even if yo say no buy* you* sorry i was rushing a bit.

You smiled. Today made it twelve days in a row. You’ve used almost all of the monkeys. And honestly? You were kind of proud of that. The stickers made it feel like you did something, even on the days you were just eating plain rice and steamed broccoli. You were up to almost 1000 kcal a day now, pushing toward 1100 kcal. Taeyong had sent you new stickers in the mail, cats, and you’d shown them to Sunghoon like they were the best thing he had ever seen. He looked so happy. His face had lit up in this quiet, surprised way. You weren’t even sure if he knew how tired he looked lately. He’d been home late almost every night this week, his shoulders tense and a frown was living permanently between his brows. But when you pulled out the little cat sheet and told him you wanted to try eating just a bit more each day, he smiled so wide. That thought carried you halfway through class. Until the professor flipped the slide and reminded everyone, “Final sketches are due on Tuesday. Don’t forget we moved the deadline up.” Tuesday? That was four days from now. You stared at the slide for a second longer than necessary. Then you flipped back through your notes. You started the sketches. You had a clear idea, the concept was solid, and if you pulled a long night today and a longer one Saturday, you could do it. You didn’t have to work this weekend, and you’d already done your weekly session with Ten, which meant the next few days were yours. You could absolutely do this. Lately, things have been different. You were different. Bit by bit, like someone had found the dimmer switch on your brain and slowly started turning it back up. You hadn’t even realized how much the party had stuck with you. It wasn’t just the throwing up. It was the way your chest clenched when someone offered you food or drinks. The way you hated opening your inbox. The way you could cry over a spilled coffee, or absolutely nothing at all.

Ten had helped you with that.

You weren’t fixed after the first few sessions. You were still tired. Still got this dull ache behind your eyes or your ribs some mornings. Still, sometimes whispered a quiet sorry to the mirror when your shirt hung too loose. But you were getting there. You were okay. And if you weren’t okay yet, you would be. You caught Renjun’s question a few beats late. “How’s your draft going?” You gave him a half-smile. “Good. I’m almost done.” Which wasn’t a lie. You would finish it. You knew you could. Because you’d done harder things already. You had done this in the first semester so often, this should be easy.

────────────────────── You were adjusting your grip on three oversized rolls of paper, trying not to let them knock into your knees, when you saw Sunghoon. Headphones on, walking with his shoulders slightly hunched. You brightened instinctively, smiling at him, but your smile dipped, just slightly, when he got close enough for you to see the set of his jaw. He looked… tired. And tense. Maybe even upset. You shifted your weight, hugging the paper tubes a little closer, and offered a quiet, “Hi.” His gaze flicked up. And like magic, it all softened. The furrow between his brows, the stiff set of his shoulders. He gave a small exhale, like just seeing you let out some of the tension. “Hey,” he said, low and tired, but warm. “What’s with all the… paper?” You let out a laugh. “I stayed in the studio after class. I’m doing a huge concept draft this weekend. Guess who’s pulling an all-nighter?” He eyed your supplies, then you. “Please don’t say you.” You bit your lip. “It’s due Tuesday, and I was kinda distracted during the break. But I think I can make it work. I have a plan.” He reached out and gently tugged one of the rolls from under your arm without a word. You didn’t stop him. Your fingers brushed his in the exchange, and your pulse jumped. The bus rolled up, brakes squealing slightly, and the two of you climbed on. You found a mostly empty seat toward the back and sank into it with a small sigh. The paper was bulky, and created a barrier between your legs and his. Still, your shoulders brushed. He didn’t move away. The ride started in silence. You were about to reach for your phone when Sunghoon spoke, voice quieter than usual. “I’m not skating well,” he said. You looked up, surprised at the sudden honesty. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know what happened. Two weeks ago, everything worked perfectly. I almost got a perfect score. And now it’s like my body forgot how to do everything. Every run-through ends with me on the ice. It’s… embarrassing.” You frowned, brows drawing together. “You think it was just luck that day?”

He gave a soft laugh, more bitter than amused. “Maybe. I don't know. I was really stressed in the weeks leading up to it. You know, with the party and everything. I was kinda busy worrying about you and didn't really worry about the nationals that much."

You didn’t answer right away. The bus rumbled around you. A neon sign from a passing corner shop spilled red light across the floor.

Your hands were resting in your lap. You stared at your fingers for a second.

You hadn’t hidden it. Not really. The skipped dinners, your barely touched plates. You knew you weren’t subtle.

You just didn’t know it had sat with him like that.

“I’m not saying that to guilt you.” He leaned his head back against the bus window, sighing. “You’re doing amazing. You've put those monkey stickers on the calendar every day for almost two weeks. Sometimes even two.”

You ducked your head, shy under the praise. “They’re cute. And I like making people proud.”

“You are,” he said softly. “I am.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you just nodded.

“Two weeks ago,” you said quietly. “At the nationals. You were incredible. You had so much fun.”

Sunghoon turned to look at you then. His eyes were soft. Tired.

And maybe a little surprised.

“I don’t know how I did that,” he admitted. “And now I’m not sure I can do it again.”

You hesitated. Then, a little nervously:

“Do you… still worry? About me?”

There was no pause in his answer.

“Yeah.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure how to carry the strange warmth that bloomed under your skin.

You wanted to reach out and touch his hand. Or maybe say thank you. Or maybe… both.

A few moments passed in silence before you felt his head tilt, his chin gently resting on the top of your head.

You froze for a heartbeat.

Then slowly, shyly, you let yourself lean into his side.

Just a little.

The bus bumped along, and the rolls of paper rolled slightly against your knees.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured. “Eventually.”

“You will,” you whispered back. “But you don’t have to be right away.”

His hand brushed against yours for a second.

And neither of you moved away.

────────────────────── Your keys clinked softly as you unlocked the apartment door. The hallway light flickered to life, casting a warm, golden hue across the wooden floor. You slipped off your shoes, turning to look at Sunghoon, who was still moving slower than usual, dropping his bag by the door with a sigh.

You hesitated.

“…Are you hungry?” you asked gently.

He looked up at you with that unreadable expression of his. Not annoyed. Just...thinking.

Then he tilted his head. “Did you eat enough for a monkey?”

You blinked, caught off guard and then let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “No.”

He didn’t scold you, “Then… unspicy dakgalbi? From the place I always drag the guys to?”

Your eyes lit up immediately. “Oh? The one we ordered from a few weeks ago?”

He nodded. “They do extra cheese now.”

Your stomach actually rumbled a little at that.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both perched on either side of the low sofa table. You sat cross-legged at the low table, sketchbook to your right.

Sunghoon was on the other side of the table, sleeves pushed up, his hair still damp from his shower. He passed you the tongs wordlessly, letting you serve yourself first. The cheese pulled in stretchy, stringy lines between the chicken pieces.

You quietly divided things up. One bowl for you. One for him.

When you finished cleaning the living room, you placed a sticker onto the calendar and held it up toward him with a tiny smile. You’d already picked out the sticker for tonight, a little orange cat holding a rice ball.

“Tada!”

He squinted at the calendar and took a step closer, “The cat is cute. I am proud of you, Y/N. Look, even your little kitty is proud of you for eating so well.”

You laughed, cheeks a little warm.

The two of you returned to the living room. You had your legs tucked underneath you on the floor, one of the giant papers resting across the coffee table. The living room was dim except for the glow of the TV. The new drama you both half-followed played in the background. You had your pencil in one hand, your sleeve bunched in the other as you leaned over the page.

You didn’t even realize how quiet it had gotten until you looked up and found Sunghoon stretched out on the couch. One arm tucked under his head, hoodie soft and rumpled. His other hand rested over his stomach, rising and falling with each breath.

He wasn’t watching the drama. He was watching you.

You immediately felt the heat rise in your face.

“What?” you asked, trying not to smile.

He looked away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He didn’t argue.

You shook your head and looked back at your sketch. But your heart was still doing something weird. Something soft and fast at the same time.

You didn’t say anything else. Neither did he.

You weren’t sure when Sunghoon stopped watching the drama and started watching you again but you noticed when his eyes started slipping shut, his head slowly lolling to the side against the arm of the couch.

He insisted on keeping you company while you worked.

Which, apparently, meant curling up on the couch behind you, one arm flung over a pillow like a makeshift hug, and promptly dozing off halfway through episode two.

Your pencil slipped from your hand somewhere around 3:30 a.m..Your first sketch was about 3/4 done, but your eyes were getting too heavy to shade anything right now. You stretched your legs out slowly, bones creaking, spine stiff from being hunched over the coffee table for hours and looked over your shoulder.

Sunghoon was still out cold. His hoodie had ridden up just slightly, revealing a sliver of his lower back. His mouth was parted in the tiniest way.

You tried not to laugh as you reached over and touched his shoulder gently.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered.

He groaned.

“Sunghoon,” you said again, a little softer.

His eyes cracked open, all bleary and confused. “Huh.”

“You fell asleep.”

He made a tiny noise of protest and flopped further into the couch. “You’re loud.”

You laughed. “C’mon. Go to bed.”

He mumbled something unintelligible, then blinked blearily at you. “You wanna sleep in my room tonight?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You said… before.” He rubbed at his eye with the back of his hand. “That you sleep better when someone’s there.”

You stared at him for a second. Something in your chest tugged, a quiet, strange warmth.

“I did say that,” you murmured. “Do you?”

He stilled. For a breath. Then said quietly, “Yeah.”

You nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The apartment was cold outside the blanket nest you’d built on the couch and on the floor, but his room was warm, dim with only the soft glow of his lamp in the corner. You slipped into his bed first, still in your hoodie and sweats, pulling the covers up as he turned off the hallway light and climbed in beside you.

You didn’t even think about where to lie. You just curled toward the same place you always seemed to find: his side, just beneath his collarbone, right over his heartbeat.

His arm came around you automatically.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

Then he whispered into your hair, voice rough with sleep, “I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

You let out a breath. “Me too.”

Another beat.

“…Also. I’m never letting you work until 3:30 again.”

You smiled into his hoodie. “I don’t really think that’s possible.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer, already asleep again.

His breath, steady and warm, brushed over the crown of your head every few seconds in a lazy rise and fall.

After a few minutes you noticed a sound.

Soft. Rhythmic. Not loud, but steady enough to be unmistakable.

Sunghoon was snoring.

Just lightly.

You didn’t move. Didn’t dare to.

And then – there it was again.

The faintest little snore. You stifled a smile into his hoodie.

You shifted a tiny bit, just enough to glance up at him.

His mouth was parted slightly, lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks. He looked so different asleep. Softer. Younger, somehow.

You reached up slowly, brushed his hair off his forehead. He didn’t stir.

And then, quietly, you whispered, “Thank you.”

For the food. For the stickers. For staying up with you. For holding you like this.

The snore came again. You almost laughed.

────────────────────── At around 15 o’clock, they called his name for warm-ups, and he felt like walking toward a storm he couldn’t stop. He spent almost 5 hours in the rink at this point, watching other people skate and perform on a level that was Olympic.

Sunghoon knew.

The moment his skates hit the ice, he knew.

This wasn’t going to work.

His legs were already too tight. His lungs didn’t feel like they had room.

He ran through the motions anyway.

Went through the warm-up.

But with every movement, he felt it tightening. His chest, his hands, the panic he’d been choking down for days.

When they called him out for his actual performance, he wasn’t even nervous anymore. Just…numb.

The music started. He pushed off.

And he fell.

Not dramatically. Just a slip, a wrong edge on a spin he could do blindfolded most days. His shoulder kissed the ice, and the sting of it went all the way to his ribs.

He got up.

He always got up.

But the rest of the routine blurred. He didn’t even know what he was doing by the end, only that he’d finished.

Bowed.

Skated off.

Not once did he look toward the seats.

Not once did he meet the eyes of his coach or the team watching from the tunnel.

He ripped off his gloves the moment the door to the rink closed behind him. Tugged at the zipper of his costume like it was suffocating him. Stormed past the lockers, past the benches, up into the viewer area.

You were sitting on a seat near the middle of the bleachers, your laptop balanced on your thighs, fingers curled gently around the stylus as you focused on the screen. Your hair was braided now.

Something about it made his throat go tight.

And then you looked up.

You didn’t ask if he was okay. You didn’t say anything right away. You just stood up and stepped in his direction.

Sunghoon didn’t even stop to think. His arms wrapped around you before any thought even formed. Tight and desperate.

He felt the first sting of tears when your hand touched the back of his neck. Your hands slid up his back and into his hair.

“I messed up,” he choked out. His throat felt like it was closing. “I knew I would. The second I stepped out. I just—”

“You looked beautiful,” you whispered, voice soft by his ear. “I’m proud of you for trying.”

His chest lurched.

“For going out there. Even if you knew.”

That broke a little sob out of him, and he buried his face in your hair.

You didn’t say ‘You never know what the judges think’ or ‘You weren’t that bad’.

You just held him.

“Thanks,” he whispered, lips brushing your hairline.

He stood there with you for a while, forehead resting against your shoulder, your hand moving slowly over the back of his costume–up, then down, and up again.

Eventually, he stepped back. Not far. Just enough to breathe.

“Do you wanna leave?” you asked gently.

He nodded, jaw clenched. His mouth was too dry to speak.

You packed up without another word, slipping your laptop into your tote and looping your jacket over your arm. You didn’t ask if he wanted to drive. You just walked beside him back to the car, shoulders almost brushing, quiet like you understood there wasn’t anything to say.

The drive started in silence.

He didn’t turn on the radio.

You didn’t try to fill the space.

But a little ways down the highway, you cracked the window open and let the breeze in. And then you kicked off your shoes and curled your feet up on the seat, twisting to face him slightly.

“Do you want a candy? I still have to eat some to earn a kitty. I have watermelon, apple, that weird Chinese one with the rabbit from Renjun or strawberry?” you asked.

He glanced at you, brows tugged together.

You were holding out a box filled with different-sized and colored candies.

He blinked. “Weird Chinese rabbit ones? That’s… weirdly specific.”

You gave him a small shrug. “It’s sweet. I figured you might need something nice.”

He took a piece.

It helped a little. Especially when he saw that you ate three pieces.

After a while, you shifted again.

Your voice was quieter now. “I wish I could do something. I know I can’t fix it, but…”

“You being there helped,” he said, staring at the road ahead. “A lot.”

You were quiet for a beat.

“You know, if you don’t want to be alone tonight… you could crash in my room.”

He turned his head slightly, trying to read your expression. You looked a little shy, like you weren’t sure if you were overstepping.

“It’s just… it feels better with someone there,” you added. “You said that too, right?”

His chest tightened, but not in a bad way this time.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

You nodded. Then leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes.

He didn’t know if you were actually sleeping, but he let you rest anyway. He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t say anything else.

────────────────────── Sunghoon heard the faint clatter of a pan as he stepped out of the shower, towel still clutched around his hair. He padded down the hallway barefoot, his limbs heavy from the day, and found you in the kitchen, barefoot too, stirring something in a pan.

You glanced over your shoulder when you heard him. “I’m making egg rice,” you said, voice still soft. “There were leftovers. And I put in a ridiculous amount of oil, I am sorry.”

He nodded, throat tight again. “Smells good.” You plated up the food and passed him a bowl. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until the first bite. The table was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Your foot bumped his once, then again, and instead of pulling back, you let it rest lightly against his. Afterward, he watched you shuffle to the fridge, humming faintly as you peeled the backing off another little sticker. This one was a cat with a sleepy face. You smoothed it onto the day’s square on your meal calendar and painted a pair of ice skates next to it. Sometimes, if something special happened, you drew a small doodle next to the date. He didn’t feel like today deserved a doodle. Sunghoon swallowed. You smiled faintly to yourself, then turned toward him. “I’ll brush my teeth first.”

By the time he joined you in your room, the lights were low and the sheets were already pulled back. You scooted over without a word, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He laid down beside you, on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow.

For a while, you didn’t talk.

Then he spoke, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to do now.”

You shifted slightly, not away but towards him.

He stared at the ceiling. “The Olympics... that was always the goal. Since I was a kid. Everything’s been about that. Every second I didn’t spend skating, I spent thinking about skating. And now…” His voice faltered. “Now I’m just—I don’t know who I am if I’m not trying to get there.”

He felt you look at him before you said anything.

“You know,” you said, soft and slow, “you’re still young. There are so many other things to achieve. This isn’t the end.”

He let the words settle between you, watching shadows play across the ceiling.

“There’ll be another Olympics,” you continued, “another try. And even if not… there’s always something else, right? Something new. I think–I think that’s the part no one tells you when you’re a kid. How your dreams can change.”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, not quite a laugh. “Yeah. They always made it sound like it’s one dream, one shot. Do or die.”

“But it’s not,” you whispered. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He turned his head to look at you, even though the room was too dark to see your face clearly. “What did you want to be? When you were a kid?”

You were quiet for a second, like the question caught you off guard. Then you chuckled softly. “Van Gogh. I used to think I’d become the next Van Gogh and travel the world to paint.”

He smiled. “That’s adorable. But I think Picasso would be more fitting for you, Y/Ncasso.”

“Shut up.” You nudged his foot under the blanket. “What about you? Always skating?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Since I was like five. I saw Yuzuru Hanyu win gold and thought he was magic. I wanted to be that.”

You shifted closer slightly, and he felt your breath against his neck.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be magic,” you said. “Just… enough.”

Something about the way you said it tugged at him. He turned his body toward you now, propping his head up just a bit on his arm.

“You are,” he said.

You went quiet again.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked, voice soft, unsure if you wanted to keep on talking.

You were quiet for another beat, then you hummed. “Sometimes. Not often. It feels kind of… scary.”

He nodded slowly, even though you couldn’t see it.

“I always imagined mine very clearly,” he said. “Even when I was a kid. I’d make it big in skating, maybe get to coach later. Have a place near a the olympia park. A dog, or two. A supportive wife, who loves me. Whom i love back. And maybe… a daughter. I don’t know why, but I always pictured a daughter.”

He let out a small laugh, a little embarrassed by how much he was sharing. “Someone tiny who’d sit on my shoulders and call me her favorite person.”

Your silence stretched for a little too long. He turned his head.

When you did speak, your voice was quiet.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have that.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightened.

“Why?” he asked gently.

“I just… don’t think that’s in the cards for me. A family. Love like that.”

He wanted to say something immediately, but he waited. Let you say what you needed.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you continued, not quite looking at him. “Not because I don’t want love,” you added quickly. “I do. I just… I think I’ll disappoint him."

His fingers curled slightly in the sheets.

“Sometimes I wonder,” you whispered, “if I’m just not enough.”

The words knocked the air out of him.

He sat up a little, his voice low but fierce. “Don’t say that.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

“You are,” he said. “You’re more than enough.”

You looked away, eyes shining faintly in the darkness.

“I don’t want to be someone’s burden. When I relapse. When I can’t eat again or when I start hating myself again. I don’t want anyone to have to deal with that.”

Sunghoon felt the breath catch in his throat. His fingers flexed slightly against the sheets.

“Don’t say that,” he said, gently but firmly. “You’re not a burden.”

You let out a shaky breath. “But I could be.”

“No,” he said again. “You could have bad days. Weeks. That’s not the same thing.”

You didn’t answer.

Sunghoon pushed up a little more, his face now just inches from yours, even in the dark.

“If someone really loves you… he’ll stay. He’ll help you when things get hard. Especially when things get hard.”

He reached for your hand without thinking.

“I don’t want to ruin someone’s life,” you whispered.

“You won’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “You’ll be part of it. And the right person will be lucky to have you in it.”

You let out a shaky breath, squeezing his fingers just once.

“You say that so easily.”

“I say it because it’s true.”

You didn’t speak after that. You just shifted closer, close enough that your foreheads nearly touched, close enough that he could feel the way your fingers curled slightly toward his.

He stayed awake for a while after that, listening to your breathing. Thinking about love. About disappointment. About the way you looked at him today like he hadn’t failed.

────────────────────── You saw the light pour through the tall windows of the studio, casting soft, slanted shadows across your desk. Someone’s model fell with a quiet clatter in the background.

You saw your hands working, but your thoughts were still with Sunghoon.

It has been a few days since the tryouts. Sunghoon and you had been sleeping either in your or in his bed. Just to comfort each other.

The step up in calories was hard. The bigger portions made your stomach upset, no matter what you ate and he was feeling a bit down. He didn’t go to the rink, instead coming home or to the studio, when you stayed longer. He and Renjun were getting along really well.

You had to think about the softness in his voice when he talked about the future – about his daughter, his dogs, his house. The way he had said he wanted a wife who he could love and who loved him like it was a given he would find someone like that. Like someone could love him so honestly, and he’d love them back just as deeply. You really believed that he would find such a girl. He deserved to be loved. Deeply.

You remembered the way his fingers had curled around yours under the blanket.

You’re more than enough.

You saw the way he looked at you when he said it. Like he meant it.

You thought about how he stayed, even when it got bad.

You thought about how he asked if you’d eaten.

How he quietly cooked two portions when you hadn’t. How he let you talk when you needed to, and sat beside you when you couldn’t find the words.

Wasn’t that… what love was supposed to look like?

You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you ever would.

But if you ever let someone love you–really love you–you hoped Sunghoon was right. That they’d stay. That they’d hold on through the bad days. That you wouldn’t just become some slow-motion heartbreak in someone else's story.

Because right now… it almost felt like he was already doing it. Loving you in all the ways you didn’t know how to ask for, that you didn’t know how to give back.

And that thought made it hard to breathe in the best, scariest kind of way.

Your professor’s voice cut through the air.

“I hate to do this,” he said, and you already knew it was going to be bad, “but due to scheduling conflicts, the deadline for your final submissions has been moved up.”

You blinked.

“To next week.”

A collective groan spread across the room.. Someone cursed.

You looked around. Every table was covered in half-finished foam models, scattered tools, and messy sketches, yours included. No one was ready. Not really.

Your heart dropped, just a little.

You saw your own model–barely halfway there. The pieces didn’t fit right yet. Some parts still needed refining, carving, painting.

It wasn’t impossible. Not quite. You could stay all weekend. Pull a few all-nighters. If you mapped it out just right, you might be able to pull it off. You would have to bring your stuff back to your apartment, take over the kitchen for a few days.

Your stomach sank anyway.

Because now you’d be tired. Because now dinner would be rushed. Because now the quiet bubble of comfort you’d made with Sunghoon would pop, even if just for a while.

You exhaled through your nose and refocused your attention. Grabbed your pencil. Sketched out the next adjustment.

You could still do this.

Sunghoon was making curry tonight.

You’d get your stupid kitty sticker and then draw a sad smiley next to it.

────────────────────── Sunghoon saw you before he even heard the door shut.

You came in looking like a zombie. Bags digging into your shoulders, a roll of foam sticking out under one arm, your jacket halfway falling off, and your model clutched precariously in your hand.

The look on your face said enough.

He column’t remember seeing you like this, ever. He has seen many different facial expressions on you but he has never seen this one. Your mouth was tight and there was a crease in between your eyes.

He stepped away from the stove. “Hey- wait, I’ll help- ”

“It’s okay,” you said, breathless, dropping your things by the shoe rack and then pressing a hand to your forehead. “My deadline’s been moved up. Again. A week earlier.”

He blinked. “Oh, shit.”

“Yup.” You weren’t even angry about it. Just exhausted. You gave him a fleeting smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll be out in a sec, just need to… change into not jeans. Or something.”

Then you disappeared into your room.

Sunghoon finished setting the table. Curry, rice, the salad you liked lately. Two bowls. Two glasses of water. The usual. He waited a few minutes. Then a few more.

You didn’t come out.

He stood up and made his way to your door, the polaroid of you with your name under it mirroring the one of him on his door. He knocked, gently. “Y/N? Food’s ready.”

You opened the door a minute later with the same drawn expression, hair tied up in a messy knot. You slid into your chair across from him and mumbled a quiet “thanks.”

But you didn’t eat.

Sunghoon watched you poke at the rice. Push the curry around. You were quiet so he started talking and told you about how Jay and Heeseung were invited to a gala for the new recruits of their teams and how they were panicking today. You barely reacted and only chuckled.

When he stood to clear the dishes, you looked up.

“Oh,” you murmured. “I’m so sorry- would you mind cleaning? I swear I’ll do it next week, I just-” You gestured vaguely toward your room, then vanished again before he could even nod.

Sunghoon blinked. “Okay…?”

He collected the bowls. Yours was still full.

His eyes flicked to the calendar.

No sticker.

You didn’t get out the sheet with the kitten and glued one onto it.

That was the first night in over two weeks there wasn’t one.

You didn’t eat. Not really.

You also didn’t stop to get a snack from the fridge either. Usually you would eat a yogurt with berries after dinner. Not immediately after but you did prepare it immediately after.

He washed up slowly, trying not to overthink it. But failed to do so. A part of him told himself you were tired. That it was just one night. But another part reminded him of the way your voice sounded when you were trying not to worry him.

Just tired.

That’s what you always said when you didn’t feel like eating before.

Hours passed. He showered. Got the laundry and folded his clothes. Worked on one of his essays. Brushed his teeth.

At 11:42 p.m., he knocked on your door again holding a bowl with yogurt and mangos, voice muffled slightly through the wood.

“Y/N? Do you want a joghurt?”

No answer for a second. Then, softly, “Not really. Thank you though.”

He opened the door anyway.

You were sitting cross-legged in front of your bed on the floor, the model in front. In your right hand was a cutter and the other hand was holding a ruler, but they weren’t moving. They were just floating a few centimeters over the styrofoam.

He walked over without a word and sat next to you. Your shoulder brushed his and you relaxed a bit. Letting your hands rest in your lap and looking at the small bowl Sunghoon was holding.

Then your head rested on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you said eventually. But your voice cracked a little at the end. “Just tired.”

Sunghoon nodded.

Then he leaned closer and spoke gently. “Let’s eat something, mhm?”

You didn’t answer.

So he pulled you up.

Your hand slid into his. He held it without needing to say anything else.

He sat you down at the table, went to the fridge, and reheated a bowl of curry and rice in the microwave. It was a smaller portion that you were supposed to eat, but he figured you probably couldn’t really eat much. So he made sure there was at least something in your stomach. When he set the bowl and spoon in front of you, you glanced at it with tired eyes, then picked up the spoon.

You didn’t say anything. Just started eating slowly.

When you were halfway through the bowl, he asked, just as softly as before:

“Do you think you earned a kitty today?”

You paused mid-bite. The spoon hovered for a moment before you set it down gently. You didn’t look at him. You just shook your head once, small and quiet.

His chest tightened. It hurt to see you like this.

You weren’t crying but you looked so upset.

But you were eating. Slowly. And he could work with that.

He just nodded his head a little and sat with you while you finished your bowl.

Afterward, you helped rinse the plate. Even dried it. And then you returned to your room after muttering a “Thank you Sunghoon.”

He just smiled and watched you retreat into your room. Only to follow you a few seconds later. By the time he reached your door you were already sitting on the floor again. Sunghoon walked over quietly and crouched down beside you. His eyes scanned the mess of paper, foam board, tape, notes scribbled in pencil. Then he looked at you.

“I’ll help you,” he said.

He grabbed the extra cutting board from the shelf under your table and started slicing the leftover foam you hadn’t touched yet into 1,3 cm thick stripes, like you told him. Sometimes you asked him to hold down corners for you when they curled up.

By the time the clock on his phone read 3:47 AM, your hands had slowed down significantly.

The model looked more like a fancy opera now.

He glanced at you.

You were blinking slowly, mouth slightly parted in a yawn.

“You should sleep,” he said softly.

You didn’t argue this time. “I should.”

He stood, offering his hand. You took it. Wobbled a little on your feet.

“Let’s sleep in my bed,” he hummed.

You mumbled something like “okay” and shuffled into the bathroom.

Sunghoon turned off the lights, checked the stove, and brushed the foam dust from his sweatpants.

When he reached his room he stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of you curled into his bed, on what has become your side.

It looked like you’d been here for hours, even though it had only been minutes. The quietness in the room, the soft rhythm of your breath under the covers, made his chest feel tight again. Not from worry this time, but from something much warmer.

He closed the door quietly behind him and tiptoed over to the bed. He didn’t want to wake you in case you fell asleep in the three minutes you were lying in his bed.

Sunghoon slowly climbed into the bed, sliding under the covers and shifting closer to you.

Then, before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from your face. You barely stirred, but a tiny little sigh slipped from your lips, and he smiled to himself.

“You good?” he whispered, careful not to startle you.

You mumbled something incoherent but soft, and adjusted your head to put it onto his chest.

Sunghoon chuckled quietly, not knowing what to say next. So, he just snuggled into his pillow.

────────────────────── You blinked awake slowly, the dull gray light of morning filtering through the blinds in Sunghoons room. Usually sleeping in the same bed as Sunghoon meant that you were sweating in the morning, but today you were feeling a bit cold. Your hand reached across the bed where Sunghoon should have been instinctively.

His side of the bed was no longer warm. You hand brushed over the soft duvet cover.

It was strange, wasn’t it?

Feeling that someone was missing after waking up alone was not a thing you usually did.

You know people complain about it, when their lovers slip out of the bed too early, leaving them alone in their shared bed.

But Sunghoon wasn’t your lover.

So why did it feel like that?

You sat up slowly, brushing hair from your face, the blanket slipped down your shoulders. It wasn’t like he disappeared. He was probably brushing his teeth or something. You dragged yourself out of bed, bare feet padding lightly against the floor.

The moment you cracked open your door, you were engulfed in a sweet smell. And a slightly burned smell.

You frowned, blinking toward the hallway, and then made your way into the kitchen.

Sunghoon was standing in front of the stove. His hair was standing up in different directions, the bleach damaged it enough to not fall softly unless he used the right hair care products.

He was holding up a spatula and his phone at the same time, frowning at something on his phone.

You leaned against the doorframe to the connected kitchen and living room, eyes flickering over the kitchen.

Your model was laying on the kitchen table. All of the tools and scraps and papers that were spread around on the floor in your room had been organized neatly on the table. Your laptop was charging on the kitchen island. Your pens lined up in a little row.

“Good morning Sunghoon”, you greeted him, your voice still rough from disuse.

You couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips when he turned around and you noticed the apron he had hanging around his front. He looked cute.

He turned around, startled, and blinked. “ Y/N. Morning.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you making pancakes?”

“They were supposed to be,” he said, flipping one that was definitely more black than brown. “You didn’t eat enough yesterday. So I’m bribing you.”

You walked forward, your feet freezing when you reached the tiled kitchen floor. “Bribing me with... questionable pancakes?”

“They’re not questionable,” he said. “They’re just... well-loved by the stove.”

You laughed softly and slipped into a chair at the table. The sight of your model, a little lopsided now that you weren’t looking at it in sleep-deprived haze, made your chest ache a bit again.

“Thank you Sunghoon.”, you said after a beat of silence. “For everything. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for everything you are doing.”

He turned around, a soft smile adorning his lips. Your chest flustered a bit at the sight. “Always, Y/N. If you ever need help I’ll always be there to help. No matter if its slightly burned pancakes or your weird opera thing we are building together.”

Your eyes stung a bit and you had to break eye contact with him to not start crying.

He turned back around and cleared his voice slightly. “The others are coming over later. They want to help.”

Your head lifted, a frown already forming between your brows. “Help? With the opera?”

He glanced over from the stove, eyebrows raised like he knew this reaction was coming. “Yeah.”

You blinked at him. “But… why? I didn’t–.”

Sunghoon flipped a pancake gently. “You don’t have to. They just want to do something. Jay, Jake, Heeseung… they all felt a little responsible. About the party. And everything after.”

You were quiet for a long moment.

Somehow you felt touched. Really touched, in a way that made your throat tighten. And also a little ashamed.

How did you manage to be a burden to someone you barely knew. Why would they worry about you? Yes they invited you, but it wasn’t their fault it escalated like that. So why were they feeling bad about it.

“I didn’t mean to make anyone worry,” you said softly.

Sunghoon turned again, his hands still holding the spatula. “I know you didn’t. But it’s okay if people care about you anyway.”

You looked away quickly, chest tight. “That doesn’t mean they should have to fix anything. Or help. I was just… not okay for a while. It’s not their problem.”

“They’re not trying to fix anything,” he said gently. “They just want to help now. In any way they can. If that means spending the afternoon cutting foam and toothpicks, that’s what they’ll do. Also—” he turned back to the stove with a quiet laugh, “—they think you’re cute.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

He hummed. “I quote: Sunghoon your roommate is so cute, I swear i want to put her in my pocket. Quote end.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips, even if your face was burning. “Oh my god, who said that?”

Sunghoon just grinned and plated the last pancake. “Jake. He said you were so cute when we went to the nationals. You felt so bad for everyone that just looked minimalistically sad after getting off the ice. He wanted to pet your head.”

“Oh my god.”, you buried your face in your hands.

He placed the plate between you both on the kitchen counter, grabbing the Nutella with one hand and a butter knife with the other. “Sorry they’re not perfect,” he murmured. “Kind of questionable in terms of color.”

You stood up and walked over to the counter, a soft smile playing on your lips. “They’re not questionable. They’re just… well-loved by the stove.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, low and warm. He drizzled more Nutella on top, spreading it with way more care than necessary. “Alright. Chocolate makes everything better. Maybe we won’t taste the love too much with the Nutella on top.”

You picked up your fork, the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder. The pancakes were a little uneven, a bit too crisp at the edges.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything when you slowed down halfway through. He just offered you another bite every now and then, and when you accepted, he smiled without a word.

“I really mean it,” you whispered after a while, when the plate was nearly empty. “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression soft and unreadable. Then he said, quietly, “You don’t have to thank me. Just… let me stay. Let me help.”

Your eyes stung again. You glanced toward your model on the table and back to your plate.

You didn’t know why he did all of this for you. You didn’t think you deserved it.

But it made your chest ache in the kindest way.

────────────────────── You and Sunghoon sat shoulder to shoulder at the table half an hour later. He passed you a glue stick without needing to be asked, and you handed him the little foam piece he’d marked earlier.

You were listening to a podcast, the only sound in the kitchen being the hosts voices and sounds of paper being cut. There were flecks of foam on his sleeve and your hair. Your knees bumped under the table more than once.

You were just finishing the reinforcements on the roof when Sunghoon finished assembling the first tiny tree for your landscaping section. He looked more proud of it than he had of his last competition medal at the nationals.

“That’s actually so cute,” you murmured, leaning over to inspect it.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I'm naming it Gerald.”

You snorted. “Gerald looks very sturdy.”

Just as you repositioned the front wall, the doorbell rang.

You straightened, wiping your fingers on your pajama pants and giving Sunghoon a quick glance.

“That’s them,” he said, already heading to the door.

A moment later, you heard the greet Sunghoon and Jake walked into the kitchen holding up a tray of drinks from the cafe on the campus and a bag of baked goods. “Y/N! Good morning! We bought coffee and tea and those weird cookie croissants! ”

You stood a little awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure what to say.

“Hi,” you said quietly, wringing your hands together. “Um… thank you for coming and the food. You really didn’t have to. I… I’m really sorry if—”

Jay cut you off with a wave of his hand, already moving toward the table where your model was set up. “Don’t apologize. We are here because we want to be..”

“Yeah,” Heeseung added, grinning as he peeked at the foam trees Sunghoon had started earlier. “This is fun. It’s like arts and crafts.”

Jay slung his hoodie over a chair and raised an eyebrow at you. “So. Where do we start?”

You stared at them for a second, something soft and confused blooming in your chest.

Sunghoon brushed past you, placing a gentle hand on your back as he nudged you back to your chair in front of the model. “We’ll show you. I can make banger trees but I need like 20 more and someone has to help me do that.”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go.”, Jake said and dropped into the chair next to you.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and nodded, pulling out the extra materials you’d prepared earlier. “Okay. Um—Jay, can you help with the glueing? It’s a bit tricky, you have to hold the pieces for a few seconds until they set. You spray this stuff on, to like kinda immediately harden the glue. Someone has to cut the foil? I don’t know if i want to use it yet tho, we will have to try around a bit and-”

They listened to your explanations with surprising focus. Sunghoon switched the background noise from your true crime podcast you'd both barely been listening to, to a soft, upbeat playlist.

They started talking about something trivial but after a few minutes someone started complaining about the last match they played and they have been explaining the rules of ice hockey to you for the last fifteen minutes.

“So basically you can crash into someone just because you feel like it and it’s okay?”, you asked, handing Sunghoon another strip of foam to hold up.

Jake grinned. “Yeah. Sometimes. You should have seen Soobin. He was our captain until he graduated last semester and one of the best defense players we ever had.”

“Oh. That’s crazy.”, you said, nodding at the way the edge you and Sunghoon had just glued together.

“Yeah. Crazy if you want to have a fifty-fifty chance to get a concussion each time you go onto the ice.”, Sunghoon huffed.

“Sunghoon, I’m just saying,” Jake was saying as he carefully pressed together two model walls, “if you ever joined a hockey game, you’d cry the second someone shoved you.”

“I’ve literally skated through a concussion before,” Sunghoon replied, unfazed. “Try doing triple jumps with whiplash.”

“Triple jumps,” Jay snorted. “That’s just jumping in the same spot but fancier.”

You looked up from the hot glue gun. “I do think figure skating is harder? I mean if all you do is try not to die because someone slams you into a wall?”

Sunghoon smirked quietly.

Jake gasped like you’d betrayed them. “Y/N! We do more than a figure skater. I might not be able to touch my toes but I must let you know that we have to strategize and you know work as a team and react as a team. Quickly.”

“I still think ice skating is more impressive. It looks very elegant.”, you hummed.

Jay chuckled. “I think we look very graceful in our uniforms. At least we don’t have to wear glitter while skating, right Elsa.”

“Fuck off Jay,” Sunghoon muttered.

“I’m ruggedly graceful and elegant,” Jake said.

You giggled, caught between amusement and slight awe. “So… do you guys always argue about which is better?”

“Absolutely,” Heeseung said, handing you a fresh strip of cut foam.

“It’s not a competition,” Sunghoon said under his breath. “Not one they’d win anyway.”

“Oh my god,” Jay sighed.

Heeseung looked at you. “You could come to a match if you wanted to.”

You raised a brow. “And then what? Watch you get pushed around and then decide if I enjoy ice hockey or ice skating more?”

They all looked at each other like that was exactly the idea.

“If Sunghoon goes to the next one, I'll come along,” you said, quieter now.

You felt Sunghoon glance over at you, his fingers stilling for a second on the model.

“I really don't want to go alone,” you added, more softly this time.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. But when you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, eyes gentle, mouth tipped upward just enough to make your heart flutter.

“Okay,” he said, that same warmth in his voice he always got when talking just to you. “I’ll take you.”

────────────────────── An hour later Jay was standing in the kitchen chopping onions. He decided to cook steak and potatoes for the four of you, apparently craving it enough to spend half a fortune on meat. After a while the kitchen started to smell intensely like food.

It didn’t smell bad, but somehow your stomach was tightening up a bit at the smell.

You glanced at the stove.

“Jay?” you called gently.

He looked over immediately, knife still in hand.

“I think my stomach’s gonna hate me if I eat that much red meat,” you admitted, a little unsure. “I haven’t really had a lot of it lately.”

He blinked once, then shrugged. “Alright. Yours’ll be dry, no blood, as unred as possible. Would you like more potatoes instead?”

You stared at him for a second. “...Yeah. That’d be great. Thank you.”

“Gotchu,” he said simply, already turning back to the pan.

You sat back, feeling weirdly relieved. Just… okay, more potatoes it is.

Heeseung had taken over tree production by now and was giving each one increasingly ridiculous names, while Jake and Sunghoon were helping you with the decorative beams along the walls of the building.

──────────────────────

When the other three left your apartment late in the afternoon your model was almost done. It was almost perfect and you had just a few things on your to do list to finish up. Which meant you could dedicate Sunday and Monday to drawing and working out the details. And get a healthy amount of sleep.

The door clicked shut behind Heeseung, and the sudden quiet that followed felt strange.

Sunghoon stretched and groaned when his back made a rather satisfying cracking

You heard him plop down onto the sofa and turned around to a rather funny view.

He had let himself drop over the backrest, one of his long legs was hooked over the backrest, along with one of his arms. The other arm was resting over his eyes and he groaned again: “Y/N I don’t get how you do this. My fingers hurt and my back feels like I sat for 80 years instead of 8 hours.”

You laughed slightly. “I try to not work 8 hours in a row unusually but desperate situations demand drastic measures.”

You hesitated for a second but stepped in front of the sofa. “I think I'm going to make a snack or something. You can nap and I’ll wake you when it’s done if you’d like?” Sunghoon just hummed and nodded.

So you padded slowly and quietly into the kitchen, rolling your shoulders out with a satisfying crack of your own before pulling open the fridge. There were still a few cherry tomatoes left, a cucumber, some bell pepper slices in a container from the day before, and the rest of the cream cheese dip Sunghoon liked. That would do.

You arranged it all with more care than you meant to, piling the sliced vegetables and a bit of fruit on a small plate and spooning a generous portion of the dip into a small bowl. When you were done, you stood in front of the calendar hanging on the fridge and carefully peeled one of the glossy cat stickers from the sheet. It was a grey tabby this time, curled up asleep. You pressed it down next to the date with a quiet smile.

You’d eaten today.

You’d eaten well today.

The steak had gone down with barely a protest from your stomach and stayed down. You weren’t quite sure how that had happened, but it had.

So you deserved your little cat sticker.

Sunghoon was still in the same ridiculous position when you came back. His mouth slightly open and he was snoring slightly. Completely wiped out from cutting and glueing some cardboard.

You didn’t want to wake him. So you set the plate carefully on the table in front of the sofa and sat cross-legged on the floor, your back resting against the bottom cushion. Your phone buzzed with a message from Johnny asking you how you were doing. You send him a selfie of you holding up a piece of bell pepper and sunghoons sleeping from behind you, telling him you had steak today. He replied with a selfie of Dukoo laying on his chest and Taeyong sleeping on his shoulder, his mouth wide open. You snickered quietly.

After a while you were bored by your phone, so you got up to get the book you were currently reading and your headphones from your room.

You were halfway through a chapter when fingers brushed through your hair. So light, so gentle, you almost thought you imagined it.

But then it happened again.

You turned your head slightly and looked up.

Sunghoon’s eyes had blinked open, still a little hazy with sleep. His hand was still resting lightly on the back of your head, tangled just barely in your hair, and when your eyes met, he didn’t pull it away.

He just gave you a tiny, sleepy smile and petted your hair again.

A strand had come loose from your braid and he twirled it between his fingers.

You swallowed slowly, heart thudding louder than you liked. “You’re awake,” you said, barely a whisper.

He hummed, low in his chest, and his hand slipped a little lower, brushing behind your ear. “I felt you leave,” he murmured.

You didn’t move, fearing that he would stop playing with your hair if you did.

“Did you eat?” he asked softly, finally glancing at the plate in front of you.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just-just vegetables and fruit.”

His eyes flicked back to you. “Enough so you could put a kitty on the calendar?”

You nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah.”

He sat up a bit more, leaning forward slightly so his knees nudged your back. His voice was even softer now. “I’m so proud of you.”

You turned toward him at that, just enough to see him clearly. He looked so warm, hoodie slightly bunched at the collar, hair tousled from sleep.

You swallowed and whispered a quiet “Thank you, Sunghoon.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes again so you went back to reading.

You didn’t hear him sit up behind you.

But you felt it when the warmth of his body shifted closer. The sofa cushion gave in under his weight as he slid down to sit beside you on the floor.

Your breath caught, just for a second, when your shoulder touched his.

He reached for the remote and a second later, the TV lit up the room in a soft blue glow. He switched channels to find KBS.

You glanced up. Sunghoon was lazily chewing a piece of carrot, reaching for another from the small plate you’d left on the table. Without looking at you, he nudged it a little closer to your side, silently offering.

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips.

Sunghoon leaned back, propping one arm up behind him on the couch. And after a moment of hesitation you let yourself lean too. Your head found his shoulder, slow and soft, the way it always did now. His hoodie was warm, soft beneath your cheek, and smelled faintly like his perfume.

He didn’t move.

The low sound of the show played on. A laugh track. A bit of dialogue. But neither of you laughed. Neither of you spoke.

You felt him breathe.

You listened to the rhythm of it, right beneath your cheek.

The two of you stayed like that for a while.

He shifted slightly, just barley. His head moved a bit and his temple brushed against your hair, his breath ghosting across your skin. You tilted your head instinctively, and suddenly you were looking at him.

He was already looking at you.

Your breath stuttered.

You froze.

You looked at his mouth before you could stop yourself.

Then back to his eyes.

And again.

Your chest pulled tight.

His lips were parted slightly.

He didn’t look away when your gaze wandered back to his eyes.

You couldn’t stop the flicker of panic that swelled in your chest.

You turned your head slightly, just slightly, without really thinking about it. Your nose grazed his cheek.

And then he turned his head too. Slowly. Gently. His temple brushing yours as he moved.

Your foreheads touched.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.

You closed your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Trying to slow the pounding of your heart.

His fingers grazed your knee, just barely. You wanted to say something, to move, to...kiss him.

But your whole body locked up with nerves and want and a fear you couldn’t name.

So you didn’t.

You sat there.

Still.

Almost.

And then, after one long heartbeat, he leaned back the tiniest bit. Just enough for the space between you to widen again.

You opened your eyes.

He didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

──────────────────────

After the episode ended Sunghoon stood up, slow and silent, his fingers brushing the blanket beside you. You stayed still, heart still racing in your chest.

“Should we...” he didn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what he meant. You nodded, your body slow to follow.

The quiet buzz of the TV filled the space between you as you both moved, soft-footed and wordless. He picked up the now-empty plate from the table. You turned off the lamp.

In the bathroom, you stood shoulder to shoulder while brushing your teeth. His elbow bumped yours lightly once, and you bumped him back, the corner of your lips curling around the toothbrush. You caught his eye in the mirror. He was winking at you.

His white hair almost reflected the harsh bathroom light, as it softly fell over his eyes. The whole scene felt so domestic your heart was aching.

You finished first. You washed your face and used the ridiculous amount of skin care products Sunoo insisted made your skin better. He gave you a lot of the stuff that didn't work for him and you were just accepting the free skincare.

You lingered in the hallway for a second too long after brushing your teeth. The light behind you still hummed softly from the bathroom, casting your shadow long and thin across the floor. You expected Sunghoon to disappear into his room with a soft goodnight.

But he didn’t.

He paused in his doorway, hand resting lightly on the frame. Then he looked at you,not directly. His tired eyes flicked toward you. And then, with barely a movement, he tilted his head. A silent question without words.

You didn’t answer with words either.

You just followed.

Your steps were quiet as you crossed the space, the air between you charged in that gentle, quiet way. You slipped into his room, your hoodie sleeves tugged down over your hands. He let the door close behind you.

The room smelled distinctly like him.

He crawled into his bed, pulling the blanket back slowly as if giving you a moment to change your mind. But you didn’t. You slid in beside him, your shoulder brushing his briefly before you turned onto your side, facing the wall.

You couldn’t handle sleeping on his chest today. Somehow the thought alone made your heart race.

It shouldn’t.

This was so wrong.

Sunghoon was your roommate.

During the episode of running man you had enough time to conclude that the racing of your heart and the desire to make him, especially him, proud was based on a crush. A very inappropriate crush on your very nice and hot and caring and sweet and attractive roommate.

A few seconds later, you felt the mattress shift behind you. He carefully adjusted behind you. Not touching you, but being close enough you felt the heat of his body though your hoodie.

A quiet part of you ached just a little when he didn’t wrap himself around you, like he sometimes did on the sofa.

──────────────────────

You lay there for what felt like hours, eyes open in the quiet dark, watching the way the dim hallway light pooled faintly across the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn't come.

Your thoughts were running wild and you didn’t know what to do.

So you rolled over.

Carefully. Slowly.

You didn’t even fully realize what you were doing until you were halfway into the movement, your hand lightly brushing the comforter between you.

He didn’t move.

So you went further, tucking your head gently onto his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t wake up.

Still nothing.

Just the quiet sound of his breathing. And then, after a beat–his arm moved.

Not abruptly. But his hand came up in a slow, sleepy motion and started tracing a soft pattern against your back.

Your chest felt too tight for this much softness.

"Were you asleep?" you whispered.

He made a small noise, somewhere between a hum and a sigh. "I was," he murmured. "But this is better."

You stayed quiet, listening to the rhythm of his breath and the way his fingers still traced your back, up and down, in lazy, tender lines.

After a long moment, he spoke again.

“I’m so glad I moved.”

Your throat tightened. You blinked at the ceiling.

“I’m glad you're here too,” you whispered. “But…”

You paused, already regretting saying anything. But you couldn’t stop.

“But it must be kind of awful, right? Having to take care of me like this? We didn’t even know each other. I probably made everything way harder.”

His fingers stilled just for a second.

Then he exhaled, hand moving again. Slowly this time, his palm almost resting between your shoulder blades.

“Y/N,” he said, like he was saying your name to soothe you. “It’s not like that.”

You didn’t reply.

You weren’t sure you could.

“I know it feels like you’re a burden sometimes,” he went on gently, “but I promise you-you're not. Not to me.”

You stared at the vague outline of his neck, blinking quickly. “I just… I don’t want to be someone people have to carry. I want to be someone people want around.”

He was quiet for a beat. You thought maybe he didn’t know how to respond.

But then his hand stopped moving entirely and slid around your back, anchoring you closer, just a little. Not too much. Just enough that your forehead nearly brushed his collarbone.

“I don’t feel like I’m carrying you,” he said.

Your heart thudded so loudly you were sure he could feel it.

“I like being here,” he said. “I like helping with the model, and grocery shopping, and seeing you put stickers on the calendar. I like listening when you rant about your professor or whisper that you're tired. I like it when you fall asleep on the sofa next to me.”

His voice was steadier now, but still low.

“I like it,” he said, “because it’s you.”

You blinked hard.

Your throat burned.

“But I haven’t even done anything for you,” you murmured. “Not really.”

He made a soft sound at that. “You really think that?”

You nodded a little. His shirt brushed your cheek. “I feel like I’m just… needing all the time. And you just give.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “You’ve done more for me than you know.”

Your brows pulled together before you could stop them. “Like what?”

There was a pause. Not silence, not really, but a moment held so carefully you didn’t dare breathe.

“You made this place feel like home,” he said finally. “You make me laugh when I’ve had a bad day. You believe in me when I don’t believe in myself.”

The lump in your throat nearly doubled in size.

You couldn’t speak.

So you just… leaned in.

Laid your forehead against his chest, eyes burning, heart twisting.

He didn’t say anything after that. Neither did you.

But his arms pulled you in slowly. Gently.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, folded into the warmth of him, listening to his heartbeat and the way his breathing slowed. You could feel his hand resting lightly against your back, not moving anymore. Just there. Steady.

You should’ve tried to sleep. You should’ve just closed your eyes.

But instead, you felt your mouth part.

“Sunghoon?” you whispered, barely audible.

His chest shifted with a breath. “Yeah?”

Your hand curled against the fabric of his shirt. “Can…can I kiss you?”

You weren’t looking at him. You couldn’t.

He was silent. Even his breathing had stopped.

You instantly regretted asking.

You’d never kissed anyone. You didn't know how to do so. Asking was the most logical thing to your head.

You could feel your whole body tense. “I’m sorry, I just—forget it, I don’t—”

He let out the softest sound. A breath that sounded like laughter, barely there, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just asked–but not in a mocking way. In a stunned, almost reverent kind of way.

Then he shifted.

You felt his hand move. He brushed your hair back, careful and slow. His fingers tucked the strands behind your ear, and his palm settled gently against your cheek.

When you finally looked up, he was already watching you.

Eyes soft.

Warm.

The corners crinkled in that way they always did when he smiled without really smiling.

His thumb brushed the curve of your cheekbone. “Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”

Your breath caught.

For a second, you forgot how to move.

And then, slowly and carefully, you leaned in.

You weren’t sure where to put your hands. Or how close you should get. Your heart felt like it might combust from the pressure alone. You tilted your head, eyes flicking to his lips and back to his eyes, over and over, waiting for some final confirmation.

And then, your lips touched.

It was soft.

Softer than you ever imagined it could be.

There were no fireworks in your chest. You didn’t feel any butterflies. Just warmth. Gentle warmth. The steady beat of your heart slowing for the first time all week.

His lips moved slowly against yours, careful. Guiding, but not pushing. Letting you take the lead, letting you pull away whenever.

When you finally did, it was only by a few centimeters, and you stayed there. Your foreheads almost touching, your hand still pressed to his chest, his softly caressing your face.

Your cheeks were glowing. Your lips tingled. You couldn’t look at him.

“I didn’t… know it would feel like that,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Like what?”

You blinked, breathing softly. “Good? Right?”

And when he smiled this time, you could hear it in his voice.

“Yeah,” he said, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Right.”

His forehead rested against yours, noses brushing.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. Breathing the same small pocket of air. His thumb brushed once over your cheekbone, then again, as if he couldn’t believe that you were here. That you had kissed him.

That you had wanted to.

And you had. Still did.

Your fingers flexed slightly in the fabric of his shirt. He shifted, just barely.

He pulled back only enough to look at you again.

Your face flushed under the weight of his gaze, but you didn’t turn away this time. You let him look. Let yourself be seen. Your chest ached in that strange, unfamiliar way—half-sweet, half-scary. The way it always does when something is too good and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to keep it.

But he just smiled.

So softly it made your breath catch.

And then, he leaned in again.

Slower this time.

His lips brushed yours so lightly.

You kissed him back.

His lips were soft and tasted like the mint toothpaste he used earlier.

When he pulled away this time, he stayed close.

His nose brushed yours. Your breath mingled. He whispered, barely audible, “I really like you.”

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t know what to say.

Your hand slid up, fingers resting over his heart. You felt it beating, fast and steady beneath your palm.

You must’ve dozed off like that.

Curled into his chest, legs tangled gently under the covers, the heat of his skin lulling you deeper into calm with every slow breath.

When you stirred again, it was because he shifted a little, barely more than a sigh against your hair.

“Still awake?” His voice was quiet, hoarse with sleep.

You nodded against him. “Mmhm.”

He pulled you in a little closer, resting his chin carefully against the top of your head. “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

Your smile was tiny. “You’re comfy.”

A pause. Then, “You drool.”

You shoved at his chest with a muffled groan, and he let out a quiet laugh that vibrated through you.

“I do not,” you whispered indignantly.

“You do,” he whispered back, grinning. “But it’s okay. I’ve decided I’ll allow it.”

You went quiet again, pressing your nose into his hoodie and breathing him in. You wanted to say something–to tell him how unreal this felt, how scared you still were, how good it felt too. But the words got stuck somewhere behind your ribs.

Instead, your fingers curled against his side, and you whispered, “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask what for.

He just held you tighter.

Somewhere between his warmth and the comfort of the quiet, you felt your chest ease.

He kissed your forehead a moment later and you just…melted a little.

You would let yourself have this. Just this one perfect thing.

This time, you were the one to whisper first. Just barely audible:

“I like you too.”

His hand stilled where it had been gently tracing over your spine. And then, he whispered, just above your ear:

“I know.”

You smiled again.

This time, when your eyes closed, you didn’t fight it.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon woke up first, the quiet morning light spilling softly through the curtains. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he just lay there, completely still, taking in the sight of you. Your face was relaxed in peaceful sleep, your hair spread out over the pillow like a halo. He could feel your breath against his chest, slow and steady, and the weight of your body pressed against his side, warm and comforting.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to.

Sunghoon could hardly believe what had happened the night before. Everything felt like a dream.

He had somehow been waiting for this moment without even knowing it.

His head replayed the moment. How you had been so close. How you asked him to kiss you and, how carefully, how gently, you had let him kiss you. And then you kissed him back.

Your breath hitched lightly in your sleep, and for a split second, he thought you might wake up, but you only shifted, pressing your cheek further into his chest.

He smiled to himself, unable to stop the soft warmth blooming in his chest.

He wanted nothing more than to hold you like this forever, to keep you safe, to keep you with him.

His fingers lightly brushed the back of your neck, tracing the soft line of your skin.

He glanced down at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest, listening to the peaceful rhythm of your breath.

Sunghoon wanted to savor this, savor you, in the quiet morning light. He didn’t know what exactly this was yet, where it was going, but he also kinda didn’t care.

He was just so glad that you were here. With him.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek softly. You were so beautiful, even in the quiet stillness of the morning, so perfect that it almost didn’t feel real. He just wished you could see that too.

He remembered the night you had laid across his chest on the sofa the first time, your body was so close. He remembered feeling the soft dip of your ribs through your shirt. It wasn’t so bad anymore. The meal plan was working better than he had thought it would.

Your ribs weren’t as sharp now. You were still tired and freezing but it was getting so much better. Even your migraines seemed to lessen.

He was so proud of you, of how far you had come, even though he knew that there was still a long way to go. He just hoped you would let him be part of that, you would let him help until you didn’t need help anymore.

Sunghoon had to fight the urge to wake you up, to kiss you again. To pull you even closer. But he decided to let you rest for a few more minutes, knowing that your alarm would ring at 10 am, like it always did on the weekend.

For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to wake up like this every day. Next to you, your head on his chest, your body curled into his. Of being able to kiss you stupid if he wanted to.

You shifted. Your face was still soft with sleep but your eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning,” he murmured gently, brushing his fingers over your hair, pushing a strand away from your forehead. He really loved your hair. “Do you want breakfast?” he asked softly.

You barely cracked one eye open and a sleepy hum escaped your lips as you nodded slightly in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Mm, yes.”

His heart melted at the sight. He had seen you wake up only a handful of times. Usually if the two of you slept in one bed together you were the first one to wake up.

You sounded so out of it.

“Alright,” he said, trying not to smile too much. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, feeling the softness of your hair beneath his lips. “I’ll get breakfast started then.”

But just as he started to move, you whimpered, the soft, almost pained sound stopping him in his tracks. He froze, unsure of what to do for a second, his heart skipping a beat.

“Stay...” you murmured, your voice low and drowsy, your body still nestled against the warmth of his chest.

He smiled, shaking his head lightly. “You need to eat, Y/N. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He didn’t want to be away from you, but he knew you needed to get up. You had to eat and probably start drawing whatever you still needed to draw for your assignment.

You groaned in response, squinting your eyes closed again. But then, you slowly allowed him to shift away, the tiniest sigh escaping your lips. You looked at him for a moment, your gaze still clouded with sleep, before you gave him a lazy smile, still blinking away the sleep in your eyes.

“Okay…” you mumbled.

“Alright, I’ll be back soon,” he said softly, sliding out of bed. As he moved towards the kitchen, he couldn’t help but glance back over his shoulder at you, still lying there, all tangled in the blankets.

He couldn’t help but smile.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon felt your presence behind him before he saw you. He heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him and paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow, not expecting you to follow so quickly.

Before he could react, you pressed your body gently into his back, your face nestling against his shoulder blade. He froze for a moment, feeling your warmth against him, and a quiet laugh bubbled up from deep within his chest.

He knew you were kinda clingy, when you liked someone. He had seen how you liked to be close to Mark, how you sometimes followed Sunoo or Renjun like a lost duckling in the hallways of the university and has had the pleasure of you somehow clinging to him as well. Coming to the kitchen to work in silence while he was cooking, sitting down on the sofa to watch whatever he was watching, even if he knew you weren't interested, cuddling on the sofa or one of your beds when one of you felt down.

But it wasn’t like you to be so forward.

When he turned around to face you, he was met with your eyes, they were wide and a little uncertain, and that small, shy smile you always wore when you were feeling bashful. It made his heart soften even more.

His hand instinctively reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing the softness of your skin.

"You okay?" His voice was low, a soft question, as he studied you, the tender expression on his face betraying his own racing thoughts.

“I... didn’t think it would feel like this,” you finally muttered, almost shyly, your gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his eyes again. “I mean... it’s... different than I thought it would be.”

Sunghoon smiled, his thumb brushing over your cheek again. "It’s okay," he said softly. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

He saw the hesitation in your eyes before you carefully placed your hands on his chest, looking up at him, slightly clumsy in your movements but so endearing. "I just... want to know how," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t really know what I’m doing."

His heart skipped a beat, a quiet warmth spreading through him. Sunghoon couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound of it light and full of affection. “You’re doing just fine,” he reassured you, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss.

This time, when your lips met his, it was softer, slower. There was no rush. His hands gently found their way to your back, pulling you closer but not forcing anything. He just wanted to be close.

You kissed him back, your lips tentative at first but gradually growing more confident as you moved with him.

It wasn’t perfect.

There were moments of awkwardness, a little shifting as you both figured out the rhythm, but it felt right. It felt... new.

When you finally pulled away, your breathing was a little heavier, and there was that nervous little smile on your face, making Sunghoon’s chest ache with affection.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” he teased gently, his thumb brushing over your lips before he smiled down at you, his gaze soft.

You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed . “I- no- no it's nice. I like kissing you.”

Sunghoon couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. It was a little silly, maybe, how happy he felt about something so simple.

"I’m glad," he whispered.

──────────────────────

The days after your first kiss were somehow weird. Nice. But weird. Your and Sunghoons dynamic didn’t really change after you kissed. What changed were the small things. Like how Sunghoon had developed a tendency to press a kiss to your forehead or the crown of your head whenever he walked past you. At first, it startled you. Then it became something you looked forward to. Sunoo teasingly claimed it was because Sunghoon didn’t want to overwhelm you by kissing you all the time. Since you really didn’t have much experience there and maybe Sunghoon was afraid you would be uncomfortable. You wouldn’t have been. You wouldn’t have minded at all if Sunghoon kissed you more. In fact, you wanted him to.

You liked the way it felt, his fingers slipping into your hair, the warm pressure of his mouth against yours, the way your breath always caught for a second b. You liked being close to him. That simple. It was a Thursday evening, the day you handed in your final model in Sustainability, when you surprised both of you. You were standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands still damp from rinsing a cutting board, when you heard the familiar clink of keys and the quiet creak of the front door.

Sunghoon padded over behind you, still smelling faintly like his perfume, even after training. He must have brought it to the rink and sprayed it on again. You felt him lean in to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

But this time, you moved first.

You tilted your head up on instinct. The angle was a little off, his nose bumped yours, but it didn’t matter. Your lips caught his, quick and soft, before you could overthink it.

You surprised yourself.

And him.

His eyes were wide for half a second, startled, and then they softened.

You whispered a quiet, breathless, “Hi,” against his lips.

Sunghoon smiled softly, his hand reaching up to caress your face. He really liked doing that as well.

“Hi,” he whispered back, eyes still on yours.

Then, with the other hand against your jaw, fingers brushing just under your ear, he tilted your head up a bit and kissed you again. Slower this time. Deeper. And everything in you went quiet and full, like a held breath exhaled at last.

Sunghoon's thumb brushed along your jaw as he pulled back slightly, breath still warm against your skin. His eyes, gentle and a little tired from training, crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Sorry," he murmured, voice low. “I didn’t shower in the rink, I’m a bit gross. I just came to check if you ate.”

You blinked up at him. Right. Eating.

You wordlessly lifted a finger and pointed toward the calendar hanging by the fridge.

He turned, followed your line of sight and laughed softly. A new sticker sat under the day's date, small and shiny. This one was a tiny white puppy with a floppy ear and a pink tongue sticking out.

"New pack?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded, and he reached up to brush his thumb once under your eye, so softly it barely counted as touch.

“You’re too cute,” he said. His voice was so warm, so fond. You were so happy you got to see Sunghoon like this.

He leaned in again, just one more press of lips to yours.

“I’m gonna shower, okay?” he said as he pulled away, slowly, reluctantly.

You nodded again, feeling lightheaded in the nicest possible way.

As he disappeared down the hallway, you stopped for a moment, the soft overhead light casting a golden glow on the counter and the fruit you had forgotten about entirely.

You were giddy.

Your knees felt a little weak and your lips tingled.

You popped a grape into your mouth and padded to the couch with the plate in hand, settling into the cushions like you had a secret folded under your skin.

You didn’t even pick a show right away - just sat there for a while, nibbling fruit, listening to the sound of water running through the walls, your fingers pressed against your lips.

──────────────────────

When Sunghoon padded out of the bathroom, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, hoodie sleeves pushed up over his forearms, the first thing he noticed was how quiet the apartment had gotten. The radio that was playing in the kitchen when he came home was quiet and he didn’t hear the TV making any sounds.

Then he saw you. You were curled up on the sofa, blanket sliding off your shoulder, the plate of fruit halfway eaten empty on the table.

He chuckled under his breath, ruffling his hair with a towel before tossing it over his shoulder. “Didn’t you say you wanted to watch the episode?” he asked gently, kneeling next to the couch.

You whined softly, not bothering to open your eyes. “I did…” your voice was muffled by the cushion. “But I'm too tired. I don’t want to get up.”

Sunghoon smiled, shaking his head fondly. “Come on, sleepy. Let’s get you to bed.”

When you didn't move, he sighed and simply slipped one arm under your knees, the other around your back. You let out a tiny squeak as he lifted you with surprising ease.

“Sunghoon!” you protested faintly, eyes fluttering open now.

But he just grinned down at you, walking toward his room with careful steps. “You didn’t move to get up, so now you don’t have to.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, hiding your flushed cheeks. “I didn’t mean you had to carry me.”

He set you down gently at the edge of his bed, grabbing his laptop to queue up the episode again. “Go get ready, yeah? You’re not sleeping in jeans again.”

You pouted, fingers curling around the hem of his hoodie

It took a moment before you finally shuffled off to the bathroom. When you returned your hair was pulled back in a neat braid and your eyes were half-lidded with sleep. He was already under the covers, the screen glowing with the paused episode.

You climbed in beside him without a word, immediately curling into his side, arm around his waist, cheek to his chest.

“Better?” he murmured, adjusting the blanket around you.

You nodded sleepily, lips barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Mmhm.”

He kissed the top of your head, soft and slow and started the episode.

You were asleep before the second scene.

──────────────────────

You pushed the broccoli on your plate to the side.

It wasn’t even that much food. Not really. It should be more.

But it even the small dinner portion felt like a mountain today

Your stomach felt full from breakfast and lunch and the little snacks you ate in between.

Your mind had started counting again the second you sat down. Like a reel stuck on loop.

210 for the rice. 130 for the chicken. The oil? 40? 50? That made…

You stopped.

Didn’t want to know.

Wanted to know so badly it ached.

The numbers didn’t add up right. Or they added up too much. Or not enough.

This week was supposed to be better.

You were supposed to try harder.

You upped your calorie intake goal last monday.

Just like you had done a week before and a week before that one. You meal prepped your breakfst and lunch, your snacks, cooked with Sunghoon, when both of you were home and not stuck in the academy to prerp for exams.

Your did best to eat it all.

You couldn't.

Not once.

But somehow your stomach rebelled every time. Either you felt too full, too fast, or just sick at the thought of finishing a full plate.

You hadn’t filled in your calendar once. Not a single dog. Not even the tiny one Sunghoon said counted “just for trying.”

You felt like you were breaking your own promises.

Like you were letting everyone down.

However that wasn't the worst thing.

You were lying.

You got home before Sunghoon today. He had group work again, most of the people in his classes being athletes meant that most meetings started late and dragged past 10. He texted you “Dinner together?” and you’d typed “Already ate! But I’ll sit with you :)" before you could overthink it.

Then you tossed the leftover broccoli and chicken into the trash can, tied the bag up and brought it downstairs. You rinsed your plate and the one you usually used for your fruits and set them in the sink.

And you hated yourself a little for it. Not only for wasting food. But for even knowing what to do to make it believable you ate. And did so, for the third time in a row now

You knew Sunghoon would be supportive even if you couldn't eat today.

But maybe he would be mad you lied.

Sunghoon never got mad.

But because he’d be kind.

He’d be soft.

You were disappointing him.

You blinked hard and wiped your palms on your thighs.

It’s just food.

It’s just dinner.

It’s just one stupid sticker.

But it felt like proof.

Proof that you failed.

That you weren't getting better, no many how many people helped you.

──────────────────────

You heard the soft click of the front door unlocking before his familiar footsteps padded down the hallway. You sat up straighter on the couch, quickly grabbing your phone to pretend you hadn’t just been staring blankly at the floor.

He stepped into the living room, hair a little damp from the evening drizzle, eyes tired but bright when they landed on you.

“Hey,” he said softly, and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You were grateful–so, so grateful–he kissed you there and not on your lips. You weren’t sure what your breath might smell like after hours of nothing but water and mint gum. But you weren’t hungry. That was the worst part. You were feeling so full even if you didn't eat enough for your dog. Even if the thought of doing so made your stomach lurch. Sunghoon dropped onto the couch next to you with a tired exhale, stretching out long beside you. “Group work is the worst,” he muttered, tipping his head to the side to look at you. “I swear half the time is just arguing over who’s doing what. And I got roped into designing the slides again.” You smiled faintly, nodding. You wanted to ask him more, about the project, about the annoying guy in his group he always complained about, but the words didn’t make it to your mouth. Everything was muffled behind a thick, dull fog. His voice softened. “You okay?” You blinked and forced your lips into a gentler curve. “Yeah,” you said. “Just… think I’ve got a migraine coming on.” His brows pulled together in quiet concern. “Do you want me to get your stuff?” You shook your head quickly. “No, no, it’s fine. I took something already. I just—” you leaned a little into the couch cushions, “—need to rest, I think.”

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning your face like he didn’t quite believe you but wasn’t going to push.

“I’ll be right back,” he said after a second. “Gonna wash off real quick.”

You nodded again and watched him disappear down the hallway.

And then you were alone again.

You curled your fingers into the hem of your sweater and exhaled.

You weren’t even sure what you needed to do to feel better.

To eat?

To cry?

To stop feeling like this?

But the only thing you were sure of was this:

You didn’t want him to know.

A few minutes later Sunghoon rounded the couch and dropped down beside you. The cushions dipped under his weight, his familiar warmth filling the small space between you both.

You kept your smile in place, the same soft, practiced curve of your lips. But you felt too aware of your body–of the weight in your stomach, the lingering guilt simmering under your skin.

He stretched his legs out, leaning his head back against the couch, exhaling like he was finally able to breathe again. "I swear I am so glad when my exams are over," he groaned.

You nodded, letting out a faint hum in agreement.

But his gaze flickered to you almost immediately.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

Your breath caught, and you stared at the screen of your phone, forcing yourself to keep your tone light. “Yeah, just… tired.”

He didn’t say anything right away.

You could feel his eyes on you, lingering like he was searching for something you weren’t ready to give.

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten.

A beat passed.

“Did you eat something good for dinner? I'm going to make myself something, do you want to eat a bit with me?” he asked, softer this time.

Your heart stuttered painfully against your ribs. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, nodding with a small smile you hoped looked convincing. “Mhm. I’m fine, I already ate dinner.”

Another pause.

He shifted closer, his arm resting along the back of the couch behind you. "Did you get your little dog sticker?" His voice was light–teasing–but you could hear the quiet worry threaded beneath it.

Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t look at him, just stared at your hands in your lap as your smile faltered for a split second.

And that was all it took.

His hand gently brushed over your arm. "Y/N," he said softly, "you know you don’t have to lie to me, right? It's okay if you're not feeling okay."

Your throat tightened painfully.

“I’m not—” You stopped yourself. The words tangled. Lying felt worse when he said it like that.

He shifted again, moving to face you fully this time, his knee brushing yours. “It’s okay if you didn’t reach your goal today.” His voice was quiet, careful. “I’m still proud of you for trying.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before you could stop them.

You shook your head, blinking hard, unable to look at him. “I just… I thought you’d be disappointed.”

“Hey,…” His hand found yours, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because I couldn’t…” You swallowed, the guilt finally pushing its way to the surface. “I couldn’t do it right. Not today. Not this week. I wanted to-but it’s just-” Your breath hitched. “It’s not enough.”

He was quiet for a moment before his hand squeezed yours, grounding and warm.

“It’s always enough,” he said softly. “You’re always enough.”

You finally looked up, and the warmth in his eyes nearly broke you.

“And you don’t have to prove anything to me to make me proud,” he added, voice softer now. “Just… let me be here with you, okay? Even on the days that feel hard.”

Something in your chest cracked open at that.

You nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. “Okay.”

He pulled you into his side without another word, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

──────────────────────

You waited until his breathing evened out.

Soft and steady. His arm was draped loosely around your middle, like it always was.

Your chest felt tight. Like the air in your lungs wasn’t settling right. Like you couldn’t breathe.

You slid out from under the covers carefully, inch by inch. His body shifted a little, but he didn’t wake up.

You hoped he didn’t.

The kitchen was mostly dark when you padded in barefoot. The city outside glowed faintly through the sheer curtains, casting pale golden lines across the calendar hanging on the fridge. The little dog stickers stared back at you, soft and silly and so stupidly kind-looking it made something inside your chest twist.

None for the last week.

You’d tried.

You really, really tried.

But every time you sat down in front of a plate, something clenched in your gut. The idea of eating more made your throat tight. You felt full already. And not in a satisfied way. In a sick way.

But still you told Sunghoon you had eaten.

You even rinsed off the plate and put it in the sink so it looked like you had.

You had lied to him.

Your eyes burned, staring at that empty row on the calendar. You hugged your knees to your chest, curling up on one of the kitchen chairs like you used to do when you were younger.

Everything felt too big and too loud and too much.

You didn’t hear him at first.

But then there was the softest creak of the floorboard behind you, and you turned, startled, to see Sunghoon standing at the edge of the hallway. His bleached hair was messy from sleep, a faint crease on one cheek. He was just in sweatpants and a t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up. His eyes locked on yours almost immediately.

“Y/N…” he said softly, his voice thick with sleep and something else.

Concern.

You looked away.

He walked toward you, bare feet making almost no sound and crouched down beside your chair, resting one hand on the armrest, the other lightly brushing your calf.

“You okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, then nodded. You weren’t sure which one was truer.

He followed your gaze to the calendar, to the bare stretch of empty squares. You felt your lip wobble and hated it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” he said immediately, quietly. His hand slid up to your knee, warm and grounding. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I just… I wanted to do better this week.”

“I know.”

“I thought if I just told you I ate enough you wouldn’t be–” You broke off.

He didn’t flinch. “I’m not disappointed in you. I’ll never be.”

You finally looked at him.

He held your gaze for a long moment. And then he stood up slowly, his hand reaching out toward you.

“Come back to bed,” he said, so gently it made your chest ache.

You hesitated.

But then you let him pull you up. Let him wrap your hand in his and guide you through the soft dark of the apartment. Back to the bedroom, back to the bed still warm from where you’d left him.

He pulled the covers up around you, then slid in behind you, arm curling around your waist again.

You exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.

And he didn’t say anything else.

Just pressed his lips to the back of your neck, and held you close.

──────────────────────

You woke up to the warmth of his chest against your back, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arm was still around you, hand resting lightly beneath your ribs.

You blinked at the soft light filtering through the curtains.

It was still morning.

Late, maybe.

Sunghoon was awake.

You knew it before he spoke. You felt it in the way his thumb was tracing slow, absent-minded shapes against your side. His lips brushed your shoulder.

“Good morning.” he said softly.

You swallowed. “Morning, Hoon.”

“You slept in today.”

You turned slowly onto your back, the sheets rustling as his arm shifted with you. He was looking at you. His hair was a mess, and you could see the stubble of his bear along his chin.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, voice small.

“Y/N.”

You bit your lip. “You skipped training.”

“I texted my coach,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine. I didn’t mean to make you-”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he cut in gently. “I wanted to stay.”

You looked away, blinking fast.

“I wasn’t trying to hide things from you,” you whispered. “I just… I thought if I could at least pretend I was okay, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

His hand came up, warm and solid against your cheek, guiding your gaze back to his.

“I’m never disappointed in you,” he said quietly. “And I’d rather worry than be lied to.”

Your throat felt thick.

“I wanted to get that stupid sticker,” you mumbled.

“I know,” he said, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “But not eating enough to earn it doesn’t make you a failure. It just means we’re still figuring things out.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

After a long pause, he sighed through his nose. “Hey… remember I told you my friends were thinking of grabbing dinner tonight?”

You glanced at him, brows knitting together.

“You said I could come if I wanted to.”

“That’s still true. I know crowds aren’t always your favorite thing, but maybe having a few people around could… I don’t know. Make eating feel less like a thing for a night.”

You thought about it.

After a few seconds you nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s try that.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, warm and proud and relieved all at once.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple. “We’ll take it slow.”

And you believed him.

──────────────────────

Sunghoon saw you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you smiled at something Heeseung’s girlfriend said, your fingers fidgeting slightly beneath the table. The grill in the center hissed with grease and heat, smoke curling in slow spirals above the sizzling slices of pork belly. He sat beside you, tongs in one hand, quietly turning the meat, brushing it with marinade. Mark told him you used to love samgyopsal. Now, he watched you hesitate before picking up a piece with your chopsticks. You chewed slowly, nodding as Jay’s girlfriend offered you some of her favorite dipping sauce. You thanked her softly. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. Sunghoon knew. He knew that you were feeling off a bit today. Yesterday. Probably the whole last week, since you told him you’d try to eat another 100 kcal more every day now. Since you failed to reach that goal every day for a week now. He hoped that being around people that you enjoyed hanging out with would make it easier. You’ve told him before that you really liked his friends and you ate almost an entire steak the last time when Jay, Jake and Heeseung were over. But you were quiet tonight. Not withdrawn, just…watchful. You laughed here and there, made conversation, but you weren’t fully with them. He glanced across the table at his friends, who were animated and loud, clinking soju glasses and stacking lettuce wraps with an alarming amount of garlic. And then he looked to the left - at the two girls from his training crew who’d shown up last minute.

You hadn’t said much to them. You’d made the effort, Sunghoon had noticed that too, but he could see you pulling back. It was like the two of them were making everything worse. He just couldn’t understand why. Sunghoon saw Wonie shift in her seat beside you, tucking her napkin onto her lap before leaning a little closer. "You’re in architecture, right?" she asked, her voice bright. "I think that’s so cool. You must be, like, crazy good at drawing." You smiled, he saw that, but it was that careful, polite kind you used when you were feeling awkward. The one you gave him when he just moved in. When you didn’t know how to answer. “Sometimes,” you said softly, and your fingers toyed with the rim of your glass.

Wonie laughed, unbothered. “Oh! The paintings in your apartment are clearly showing that you don’t just sometimes draw crazy good. They are so beautiful.” You nodded, still smiling, but Sunghoon could see how your shoulders had crept higher, your posture a little too stiff. You were trying so hard. He wished so badly it would be easier for you. Sunghoon made sure to keep your plate from going empty, not pushing too much meat, because he knew that was hard. But sweetened pickled radish. A few rice cakes. Rolled omelet. Tiny bites of manageable food, colorful and easy to chew. After a while you excused yourself to go to the restroom. When you got up, Wonyoung waited until you were out of earshot before turning to him and Heeseung, a crease forming between her brows. “Is she okay?” she asked, low enough that the others couldn’t hear. “I was trying to talk to her, but she seemed kinda… out of it.” Heeseung leaned back in his seat, mouth already full of pork belly, and shrugged slightly. “She’s probably just having a rough day. She’s not always super talkative, but she usually warms up. It’s not personal.”

He and Heesueng often talked about you. Sunghoon has told him how you were doing, kept him updated because Heeseung himself asked quite frequently how you were doing. He assumed it was because Heesung knew what it meant to love someone who was struggling. Sunghoon was aware that Heeseungs his friends' girlfriends has had a hard life as well and even if she didn’t let it shine through too often, Heeseung had told him that she was often struggling as well. So he guessed Heeseung kinda knew what was going on with you tonight. He knew Heeseung, even if he was getting giggly and drunk, would never tell a stranger about it though. Wonie nodded, but glanced back toward the hallway. “She seems really sweet. Just... quiet.” Sunghoon didn’t say much. He just hummed, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. Because yeah. You were sweet. You were quiet. And that was okay. When you came back to the table, Sunghoon’s eyes went to your face first, like they always did, and then, almost unconsciously, drifted down to your hands. Your knuckles looked normal. No redness. No telltale signs. But he still looked. Every time. He told himself he wasn’t being paranoid. Not really. Just… cautious. Just watching. Because he knew you. Knew how hard you tried, how strict you could be with yourself. He’d seen your calendar, the quiet pride on your face when you stuck a little dog sticker onto the square. But he also knew the days you didn’t. He knew that when you missed a sticker, sometimes it was just a few calories but sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was an entire skipped meal. Sometimes it was trying too hard. Always trying too hard. You’d raised your goal last week. He knew that too. And you were so strict about it, like one missed calorie was failure. Like one sticker not earned meant you'd let everyone down. Like he would be disappointed. As if that could ever be true. Sunghoon leaned forward and turned the grill down a little, just to give his hands something to do. He watched you nudge a piece of sweet pancake around your plate, like you were trying to convince yourself you wanted it. When you caught his eye, you gave him the smallest smile. A tired one. But real. He gave you one back and reached for your hand beneath the table, just brushing his fingers over your knuckles once. Soft. Gentle.

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When you got home, it was late and cold outside. The scent of grilled meat clinged to your hair, your clothing. You toed off your shoes in the hallway and padded into the kitchen without a word. Sunghoon followed a few minutes later after locking the door and flicking off the hallway light. The only glow now came from the small lamp you kept on the kitchen counter, casting a soft golden pool across the room. You stood in front of the calendar. He saw the way your shoulders dropped before you even spoke. “I can’t put a sticker up, Honnie,” you whispered. “Again." His chest tightened. He didn’t answer right away, just walked up slowly behind you until he could place a gentle hand on your back. You didn’t flinch, but your head dipped forward like the shame was heavy. “I tried. I really did. But it just… I couldn’t.”

He didn’t ask how much you missed it by. He already knew it didn’t matter to you, it would still feel like failure to you, no matter the number. So he spoke softly. “Do you want to lower the goal again? Just a bit?” You turned to face him slowly, your eyes glossy but dry. “I thought I could handle more,” you said. “I thought it’d make me better. I just wanted to be- I wanted you to be proud.” His heart cracked a little more at that. He stepped in, arms slipping around your waist, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. “I’m already proud of you,” he murmured into your hair. “Every single day.” You didn’t reply, just stood there in his arms, arms wound tight around his middle. And maybe he felt the tiniest tremble in your fingers when you finally clutched the fabric of his shirt. “Let’s change the goal tomorrow,” he whispered. “Not because you failed. But because we’re learning. Okay?” You nodded against him.

“Okay.”

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You stared at your phone in disbelief. You had done it. You had eaten enough today. You could finally glue a sticker to your calendar again.

You reached for the sticker sheet with slightly trembling fingers. Sunghoon bought another pack of dog stickers a few days ago. These ones were pale yellow puppies with pink cheeks. You peeled one off carefully and placed it onto the day’s square, softly pressing it down. A breath broke out of your chest, and you felt lighter. Then a laugh. Then, without thinking, you were calling Sunghoon. He picked up halfway through the fourth ring, a bit breathless, the shouting of his coach over someone's music locker muffled in the background. “Hey, Y/Nie—what’s up?” You sat down at the kitchen table, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “I did it,” you whispered. “I get a dog today.” There was a pause, half a beat, before he made a soft, stunned sound, full of joy. “You did?”

“I did.” “Wait – hold on,” he said, voice muffled as he must’ve turned to cover the receiver. Then clearer, “I’m so proud of you. Wait– wait, I have something, too.” Your smile grew impossibly wider. “What?” “I qualified,” he said. “For the invitational next spring. My coach just told me.” Your hand flew to your mouth. “No way.” “Yeah. I don’t know how that happened but it seems like my lucky streak is back!” You felt like bursting. You felt full. In the best way. You whispered, “We did so good today.” He chuckled, soft and low. “Yeah, we did.” As you hung up, a warm, calm feeling settled over you. You had decided to lower the calorie goal and that was okay. You had listened to Ten, to Johnny, to Mark and to Sunghoon. They all told you it was okay to stagnate for a little while. Recovery wasn’t meant to be linear.

It was okay to take a step back. You weren’t giving up, you were just being kinder to yourself. You still had work to do, but you weren’t trying to run a marathon when you weren’t even sure how to walk yet. Without thinking, you picked up your pen and reached for the calendar again. You drew two tiny stars next to the dog sticker. Then three more. Then a few sparkles in gold. One for him. One for you. One for both of you. You smiled at the sight, your heart swelling just a little bit. You stared at the stars, the gold dots gleaming in the soft kitchen light. You had earned this. It felt good to say that. When Sunghoon came home, he paused at the door, eyes falling on the calendar before he even took off his shoes. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You really did it?” he asked, his voice warm with a mixture of pride and affection. You nodded, suddenly feeling more confident than you had in a long time. “I did. And… I’m okay with it. I think I made the right choice by lowering the calorie goal.” His eyes softened as he walked closer, lifting his hand to brush his fingers through your hair and cradle your face. “I’m proud of you. I’m really proud of you.” Your heart swelled. You had no idea what you would’ve done without him, without this space where you could grow. And even though you didn’t have all the answers, you were beginning to understand that it was okay. Sunghoon smiled at the calendar again. “I think I might need to get you more dog stickers,” he teased, pulling you into a closer. You laughed softly. “You’re gonna spoil me,” you said, a playful glint in your eye. “I’m gonna spoil you because you deserve it,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making your chest warm, before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

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The wind was a little too chilly and you buried your face in Sunghoon's scarf. It smelled so distinctly of him. Of home. You’ve just handed in your last model for this semester and were walking back home instead of taking the bus. It was a forty minute walk, but you enjoyed seeing something else than your apartment, the studio or the rink. You found yourself walking aimlessly, when something caught your eye. An elegant, minimalist hair salon with a large glass window showcasing sleek, shiny haircuts and smooth blowouts. You paused. You had been thinking about cutting your hair for a while now. It was brittle and thin and you had it in a braid more times than not, since it was long enough to annoy you. Maybe it was time for a change.

You walked up to the door, hesitated for a moment, then pushed it open. The salon was warm, and the air smelled faintly of floral-scented hair products. A stylist greeted you with a smile. "Hi, welcome! How can I help you today?" You smiled, trying to sound casual, even though your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. "Uh, I was wondering if you had any slots available today?" She checked her schedule, her fingers tapping lightly on the screen. "We do have one opening in an hour. Would that work for you?" You nodded eagerly. “Yes, perfect. I’ll be back then.” She handed you a quick form to fill out and you wandered out of the salon, mind buzzing. What were you even doing? You didn’t even have a clear idea of what kind of cut you wanted. You only knew that you needed to change something. You strolled around the nearby shops, your thoughts running wild. You ended up spending most of the time in a arts and crafts store, trying out different new pens and materials and buying new stickers. Snowmen, since winter and christmas was right around the corner. You glanced at the time on your phone and hurried back to the salon. When you returned, the stylist was ready for you, and she smiled at you warmly as she led you to the chair.

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, setting the cape around your shoulders. You took a deep breath and smiled shyly. “I’m not really sure what I want, but I think... I want to go shorter. Maybe above my shoulders? Something that will make my hair look fuller and give it some life?” She nodded thoughtfully. “Got it. I think going shorter will help with volume. Do you want layers, or just a clean chop?” You hesitated for a moment, then decided, “Layers sound good. Something soft, but not too much. I want it to feel light, not too heavy.” The stylist smiled and gave you a reassuring nod. “Sounds perfect. Let’s do it.” As she began cutting, you sank into the chair, your thoughts running quietly in the background. It felt good to take control of something for once, to make a change without worrying about the consequences By the time the cut was done, you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled softly. It was shorter than you expected, but in a good way. It framed your face, the layers adding a bit of volume and movement. You ran your fingers through it. When the stylist finished, she spun the chair around so you could get a full look. “How does that feel?” “Good,” you said, feeling a rush of confidence you hadn’t had in a while. “I think I love it.”

She smiled. “Great choice. It’s always refreshing to try something new.” You paid for the cut and thanked her profusely before heading back out into the city streets. As you stepped out of the salon and walked back toward your apartment, your mind started to race. Would Sunghoon think it looks good? He had always liked your hair. Loved it, really. He loves to run his fingers through it whenever he had the chance to. He always told you he loved how long and pretty it was. It wasn’t long anymore. More of a bob, just above your shoulders, with soft layers framing your face. It was fresh, bouncy, and definitely gave off a different vibe. Would he think you were still... pretty? You chewed your bottom lip, glancing at your reflection in the windows as you passed by the shops. The bob looked great, but you were still unsure if it was exactly what he would expect or if he would even like it. But it’s not about what he expects, you reminded yourself.

It’s about what you want.

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Sunghoon’s arms were overflowing as he fumbled his way through the door, balancing a grocery bag precariously in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. His key clattered noisily onto the side table as he shoved the door open with his hip, barely managing to keep the apples that were laying on the top from rolling out of the bag. "Hi Y/N! I am ho-" he stopped mid sentence. You were standing in the kitchen preparing dinner. And your hair— He blinked, stunned, trying to process what he was seeing. It was shorter. Soft waves curled just beneath your chin, brushing against your neck in a way that made his stomach flip violently. God, you looked so beautiful. Sunghoon didn’t even remember letting go of the bags, only registering the soft thump of them hitting the floor a second later. All he could see was you.

All he could think about was you. Before he knew it, he was crossing the room in three big strides, almost tripping over himself in his rush to get to you. You turned around at the sound, eyes widening slightly at the sudden movement, and gave him the shyest, tiniest smile. Without thinking, Sunghoon cupped your face in his hands, his fingers immediately finding their way into the soft strands of your new haircut. It felt so different. Lighter. Softer. “Do you like it?” you asked, voice so small he almost missed it. “Like it?” he repeated, his voice hoarse. He huffed out a laugh, disbelieving, awestruck. “Baby, you look–” He didn’t even finish. Instead, he dipped his head down and kissed you, hard.

You let out a startled little squeak against his mouth, hands flailing for half a second before settling against his chest. His mouth slanted over yours desperately and a little clumsy, like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough. His fingers slid into your soft, feather-light hair, brushing through the strands at the nape of your neck, cradling you to him. For a second he feared that overwhelmed you and that you wanted to stop kissing, that you wanted to pull away. You didn’t. In fact, you tilted your head up, chasing after him just as eagerly, your giggle bubbling against his mouth. He pulled back a fraction to breathe, but didn’t even make it a full second before diving back in, kissing you again. His hand slipped from your hair down to your waist, tugging you flush against him. He savored the way you melted against him, the way your fingers slipped up to tangle in the fabric of his hoodie. He could feel the way your heart raced against his chest, matching the frantic beat of his own. He should have stopped there.

He should have. But Sunghoon was completely, hopelessly addicted to you. He kissed you again, and again, and again. Each kiss grew deeper, a little more desperate. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way his hands slid down to your waist, couldn’t help the way his thumb traced the line of your jaw, memorizing every inch of you. You broke apart, gasping, and he caught a glimpse of your flushed cheeks and the wide, dazed smile you gave him.

“Sunghoon–” you started, laughing breathlessly. He cut you off with another kiss, just because he could. This time slower, more deliberate, his lips teasing at the corners of your mouth before fully capturing them again. His hands roamed, stroking your sides, feeling the way you trembled just slightly under his touch. You weren’t exactly passive either. Your hands slid up his chest, fists bunching in the front of his shirt to pull him closer. When he flicked his tongue lightly against your lower lip, testing, you gasped, the sound shooting straight through him like a live wire. He pulled back again, barely, resting his forehead against yours, panting a little. “God,” he muttered, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a kind of reverence. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” You smiled, all shy and giddy, still half in his arms. “I just got a haircut…” you whispered, almost like you couldn’t believe the reaction you were getting.

Sunghoon shook his head, pulling you impossibly closer. “It’s not just the haircut. It’s you. It’s always been you.” He laughed breathlessly, pressing another quick kiss to your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, until you were giggling uncontrollably and hiding your face in his chest. God. He loved you so much it hurt. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing you in, and mumbled, “I think dinner’s gonna have to wait a little longer.” You only laughed harder, and Sunghoon smiled so wide it made his cheeks ache. He held you there for a moment, your heart beating against his, his hands stroking gently through your freshly cut hair before you pulled back, looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him again. His mouth moved against yours with slow, heady urgency, coaxing little gasps from you that made him grin against your lips. You shifted, standing on your toes to kiss him back harder, and he groaned quietly in approval, his fingers flexing where they held you. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sunghoon knew he should slow down, but it was so hard when you were right here in your shared kitchen, wrapped around him. He kissed you until both of you were dizzy, until your giggles had melted into soft whimpers against his lips. And even then, he only pulled away reluctantly, trailing kisses along your jaw, your temple, savoring every second, every inch of you. When he finally leaned back enough to look at you, your cheeks were flushed, your lips kiss-swollen, and your eyes shining up at him like he hung the stars. You both just stood there, breathing each other in, hearts racing, faces so close he could feel your every exhale. “I guess… you like the haircut?” you teased softly, breathless. Sunghoon laughed, low and breathy, his thumb brushing the edge of your smile. “Like doesn’t even cover it, baby.” He kissed you again, gentler now. “You’re perfect,” he whispered into your skin. “You’re so perfect it’s actually unfair.” And when you hid your face in his chest, giggling and overwhelmed, Sunghoon just held you tighter, knowing in his bones that he never wanted to let you go. Not now. Not ever.

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The jewelry store was quiet except for the soft hum of the lights above and the occasional muted conversation between staff and customers. Sunghoon stood at the counter, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, his heart hammering against his ribs. In front of him, under the glass, sat dozens of glittering rings, each one more beautiful than the last. And somehow, none of them felt good enough. “She’s gonna love whatever you pick, you know that, right?” Heeseung’s voice cut through his swirling thoughts. Sunghoon looked over at him, managing a weak laugh. “Yeah. I know. I’m just-” He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “I want it to be perfect.” Heeseung leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a little half-smile. “You’re overthinking it,” he said, nudging Sunghoon lightly with his elbow. “You’ve been together forever. She’s already picked you, dumbass. She would probably marry you in a paper ring.” Sunghoon huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

He was right. You probably would. Heeseung tilted his head, that familiar glint in his eye. “Remember what I told you? Way back when? If you played your cards right, those monkey stickers would stay forever?” He grinned. “Guess what, bro? You played ‘em right. Your little monkey’s still around.” Sunghoon’s chest tightened at the nickname. You didn’t need the sticker charts anymore, not for years now. But somehow Heeseung still teasingly called you ‘monkey,’. Sunghoon still has that calender with the many different stickers in a little box in his closet. He took it out from time to time. Years had passed, but in Sunghoon’s mind, it felt like time had both flown by and stood still all at once. He was no longer just the aspiring skater, chasing a dream. He had made it. His name was known in the skating world now. He had won the olympics, not once but twice. And through it all, you had been there. Sunghoon smiled down at the glass, a lump growing in his throat. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She’s still here.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His mind drifted back to those small moments he spend with you. Those quiet nights on the sofa, wathcing silly dramas, talking, sleeping together, first in your small shared student apartment, then one in Busan, and now the one in your apartment near the olympia park. He had seen you blossom–recovering, becoming the strong, beautiful woman you were today. He cleared his throat and glanced over at Heeseung. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything back then.”

Heeseung shrugged, but there was warmth in his eyes. “You don’t have to. Just watching the two of you… that’s enough, man.” He nodded at the rings. “You’ve both earned this. All of it. It’s about time you made her your forever. Now hurry up and pick one so you can make it official already. Before I start crying or something, and then we’ll both be embarrassed.” Sunghoon laughed, and leaned closer to the glass, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge. One particular ring caught his eye. Simple. Elegant. Not flashy, but quietly beautiful. Just like you. He pointed at it. “That one.” His voice was firm, certain. “That’s the one.”

Heeseung whistled low under his breath. “Oh it's pretty. Monkey’s gonna lose her mind.” Sunghoon grinned. He could already imagine it, your hands trembling as he slipped the ring onto your finger, your watery smile, the way you’d throw your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. He could picture every second of it. “She’s my everything,” Sunghoon said quietly, almost to himself. Heeseung clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And you’re hers. Always have been.” This was it. The start of your forever. A forever he had fought for, that you both had earned with every smile, every late-night talk, every sticker on that old calendar.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty all feedback and reblogs is welcome ⭑.ᐟ ⤷ if you liked this you might also like the rest of this series ⭑.ᐟ

ᝰ taglist. @firstclassjaylee @enhaprettystars @vantxx95 @stormy1408 @fancypeacepersona @jaylvrsworld @xylatox @bluxjun @sumzysworld @outroherrr @50-husbands @ikeumina @softchannie @sirens-dreams @schmocolateschmchip @vviolynn @nishiimuraka @enhalxvr @ijustreallylike2read @enhastolemyheart @wintereals @planetmarlowe @baeeeeah @wonzzziezzzz @mochamvgz @lovtaesunu @makeme1cream @stars4jo @vviolynn @lylaloopsie @meimeiyh @motherscrustytoenailclippings @haerni @sooberriesx @nishiimuraka (did this actually work? Somehow I can’t use any of the links from the tags?)

ᝰ an. Its done. 87.583 words later. I am so happy with how this turned out. I also did infact not sleep or do my uni stuff for the last week, because I so desperately wanted to finish this and see what my brain would be coimng up with. The quality probably suffered a bit under my sleep deprived brain working on this... I actually forgot to write a few scenes I planned to include, but I'll probably release them as one shots at one point. Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story and waiting for the final parts. It has been a long ride. ₊ ⊹

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