#his personality is different he has a lot more warmth to his character

[deva-arts]

Now do the spirit animals for all your other ocs

Monica: Siberian Tiger

Seraphina: Sumatran Tiger

Vincent- Honey Badger

Amon- Kodiak Bear

Nathaniel- Australian Giant Cuttlefish

Sonia- Red Fox

Eric- Spotted Hyena

Magnus: Thoroughbred Horse

Strohl: Barbary Lion

Katya: Savannah Cat

Aura: Glass Octopus

Verra: Giant Panda

Han: Himalayan Cat

Titan- Hippopotamus

Karin- Spider tailed Horned Viper

Samuel- Red Wolf

This is all based off of their respective traits and behavior in reference to the animal, not so much power scale.

Very brief explanation under the cut!

Monica: She's huge. She's powerful. She's a force of nature! It makes sense that her spirit animal would be a tank like the siberian tiger. They're the largest tiger species and even freak out smaller tigers.

Seraphina: She learned from the best! While not as large or strong as her mother was, she is still a force to behold. Sera is incredibly fierce, determined, and brave, which fits the animal. I also find them to look a lot more whiskery and cute so...

Vincent: How do you survive in a world where everything is bigger, stronger, and lethal? be loud! be angry! be aggressive! DESTROY. If you scream it out enough, they'll believe you. Not even lions mess with a pissed Honey Badger. They are also immune to snake venom out of pure tolerance. Metal.

Amon: Large and fluffy but still incredibly deadly, Amon sticks to his guns and goes about his life... While taking no shit in the process. He's also the beefiest and has the best hair. Kodiak bears are the biggest species of brown bear!

Nathaniel: Never underestimate the Cuttlefish. It has so many cards up its tentacles! including camouflage, great intelligence, hypnotism, and also perception of different light wavelengths. They're kind of jacks of all trades. I also find their huge noggins funny. Lol, Nate's big head.

Sonia: She's a yapper, she's playful, and she's a bouncy, kind of flighty person overall. Sonia is also known for her very... Foxy personality. It makes sense that part of her persona uses a Vixen! I also think the red suits her hair.

Eric: He's also a yapper. He loves to laugh, even when it's not appropriate! Life needs more fun. Eric is social, dynamic, and works well in a team. Hyenas are also known to be pretty intelligent and affectionate... At least among themselves.

Magnus: He's the créme de la créme. Millions upon millions of dollars and a sacrifice made by the head of operations behind VENUS was poured into his making. He is no clone. Nay, he is a prince, and the world is his inheritance. Thoroughbreds are the most expensive, high-end breeds out there. One of them, Fusaichi Pegasus, was sold for $70 million.

Strohl: Barbary Lions were hunted to near extinction, and now exist today in private collections, often to royalty and their sanctuaries. They're a gorgeous breed, with thicker, beautiful manes and intense eyes. It's odd, to think something so powerful exists in captivity. It is safe, living a rich life... But it is still a slave.

Katya: Savannah cats are a breed between domestic cats and african Servals. While many consider them to be higher range pets with beautiful pelts and an exotic size, they're still just as wild and tempermental as their ancestry allows... Some people find this out a bit too late.

Aura: Glass Octopids are a rather mysterious lot. They pretty rare and hard to spot in the oceans they're from! It's to the point that they can be found anywhere in their subtropical habitats, with few known habits and behaviors. They're also bioluminescent <3

Verra: She might be able to call upon the beasts she finds in her dreams, but regular, human Verra is pretty soft hearted. She doesn't care for conflict and prefers to live a easier life without stress. Sera worries sometimes about her lack of self preservation, though...

Han: She's partially bred with chimeric DNA, sourced and spliced from cats and beastshifters. She's got a very feline temperament because of it. She is also quite fluffy! She rivals huskies in shed yields.

Titan: Extremely, extremely aggressive, territorial, and deadly. Hippos kill 500 people a year. Lions kill 22. A hippo can bite you in half just for being in the general proximity of their river. Not even a crocodile does that. Hippos are essentially muscle tanks of mass death and terror, and they can also run up to 28 mph. So.

Karin: This bird-eating snake lures them in using their peculiar tails. The tails crawl and move around like spiders do when dragged on rocks, and the snake knows exactly how to make it seem like a juicy, perfect treat for the birds. Once the bird flies close enough, the snake bites it with several shots of venom and enjoys its meal. A fitting animal for a recruiter.

Samuel: Wolves are strong alone and stronger together, and their ability to fight for a united cause reflects Samuel quite well. He is ambitious but also focused and dedicated to his mission, doing his best to make sure his team pulls through... Even when he lives in a world that is full of threats.

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Mix Sahaphap gets to perform (and has the performance chops to perform) in a style that I’ve never seen any other male actor get to embody. Mix gets to unironically play the #strongfemalecharacter. The Beatrice, the Elizabeth Bennett, the Jo March. Strong-willed, emotional, kind-hearted.

Not only do the plot points line up, but Mix, more than any BL actor I’ve seen, fully leans into the embodiment of this archetype. In his roles, he rolls his eyes, pouts, banters flirtatiously, softens his posture and expression at small details. He doesn’t over-exaggerate and imposition other characters but his face also doesn’t hold back his character’s thoughts and judgments. And when the moments arrive, he lets all the hurt and anguish pour out in shatters of tears and visible heartbreak—the star-counting scene, anyone????—in a way that harkens to the operatic emotionality of well-done melodramas, soap-operas, and their contemporary Thai equivalent of Lakorn. It’s only that these have never been men’s roles in those.

It’s no surprise that one of Mix’s roles—Cupid’s Last Wish��is explicitly a gender body-swap, and Tian in A Tale of Thousand Stars is (albeit explicitly denied within the show) heavily connected to gender body-swapping. What Mix specializes in as an actor, and does exceptionally well, has been defined as feminine. To depict a kind of queer expression in this style is novel because it’s not camp, it’s not okama, it’s not a soft or femboy, it’s not a BL twink (Mix has been mostly excluded from the schoolyards and quads of the BL universe except for a role as a senior crush in Fish Upon the Sky). It’s too sincere and too adult for any of that.

In Moonlight Chicken we get to see, without the pretense of gendered mysticism, this performance style’s seduction, warmth, wit, and explosiveness within the framework of a general gay form of expression. It says that this kind of femininity might just be a gay thing. Not all gay men exhibit it, obviously—queer men aren’t a monolith. Still, it gives us something to consider about how we observe performance of queerness on screen, especially in front of an audience that puts so much more emphasis on ships, heat, and pairing chemistry to assess how well they perform a BL role. Could we look for other features to judge performance of queerness instead of how well they kiss?

Seme and uke roles would be the major performance style categories loyal BL fans assess actors with, yet even within the archetype his character’s fill within BL narratives, Mix’s performances differ from the typical uke depiction in BL because he really doesn’t perform them as passive. Rather, Mix’s characters and his portrayal of them are dynamic and demanding. It certainly fits certain stereotypes of ukes (Gilbert!) and their gay stereotype equivalent of bottoms as pillow princesses and brats. Mix’s characters, though, have more drive, agency, and compassion than that, and he plays them with all of those currents running underneath.

We certainly have openly gay writer/director Aof Noppharnach to thank for writing this kind of queer character for Mix to play in Tian and Wen. But for Mix’s specific commitment to the performance starting off with his (debut!?) role in ATOTS, we first have Earth to thank for believing in Mix’s ability and recommending him to portray the role of Tian, and then Aof’s acceptance despite his differing initial expectations for the character. Mix, Earth, and Aof have all been open about how Mix in his personal life and nature holds a lot of similarities to both his role as Tian in ATOTS and Wen in Moonlight Chicken. Some people might knock points off his performances because he’s like them. But his relationship to the characters, rather than dampening my enthusiasm for Mix’s performances, helps me appreciate his willingness to give an authentic performance in a style that hasn’t been encouraged on screens previously. It’s made more impactful that he chose to risk vulnerability to bring something personal that had previously been excluded from screens because of its gender deviance (and in broader society explicitly condemned). This doesn’t make a claim on Mix’s actual identity, but simply shows his willingness to understand and perform the expressions of his queer characters with an effort at empathy that many other actors would feel challenged to bring.

Some actors are chameleons, but some actors have a gift of a type within which they can explore depths and range that no one else can best. For me, that’s what Mix does in his work when directors and casting understands his talent. There’s a BTS video of Mix actually fainting during a scene while in Earth/Phupa’s embrace on the mountain that immediately brought to mind the wildly famous final scene in the film Camille where Greta Garbo as Marguerite dies in her lover’s arms.

For Mix, it was a serious incident due to regrettably extreme conditions and requiring the on-set paramedics, but these levels of theatrics, for me, are emblematic of what Mix is capable of as a performer, as well. After all, he had to faint in Phupa’s arms multiple times on purpose. It’s the kinds of Old Hollywood and heightened sentimental romance realms Mix takes his performances to! Then he can turn around and make it look easy to take that same character into grounded quips or dedicated everyday tasks. It only takes writers, directors, and audiences willing to see that men can feel this way and act this way. Mix has paved the way.

[prettyboykatsuki]

I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in  when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up.  The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

__

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn’t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

__

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks.  Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

__

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while,  but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?”  You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

 These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

 He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

Oh.

__

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

 Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

__

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s  your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

__

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

__

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

__

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad  he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

__

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

__

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

[bethanydelleman]

Captain Wentworth had no fortune. He had been lucky in his profession; but spending freely, what had come freely, had realized nothing. But he was confident that he should soon be rich: full of life and ardour, he knew that he should soon have a ship, and soon be on a station that would lead to everything he wanted. He had always been lucky; he knew he should be so still. Such confidence, powerful in its own warmth, and bewitching in the wit which often expressed it, must have been enough for Anne; but Lady Russell saw it very differently. His sanguine temper, and fearlessness of mind, operated very differently on her. She saw in it but an aggravation of the evil. It only added a dangerous character to himself. He was brilliant, he was headstrong. Lady Russell had little taste for wit, and of anything approaching to imprudence a horror. She deprecated the connexion in every light.

It's interesting to me, Persuasion is the last novel Austen wrote and she had this trend prior of "W" being a villain (Wickham and Willoughby) and this paragraph about Wentworth makes me think about her other dubious men. He's gambled or spent all his money away, just like the other two, he's confident he'll get more. Wentworth and Henry Tilney are the only heroes with wit, but only Wentworth has this magnetic charm that seems to draw every woman in the room. Very Wickham of him, recall how drawn every female was to him when he came into Meryton. Wentworth feels a lot like Austen's villains, especially at first.

It makes me feel that Lady Russell was right to be worried. This sort of magnetic person, with very pretty words but no substance to back it up. It could have been a Willoughby-esq whirlwind romance and left Anne with nothing.

[sexydoffyman]

may i have a yandere somnophilia law + ace (same prompt- different fics) please 🤲 thank u 🫶🫶🫶

SOMNOPHILIA

navigation

Sanji and Katakuri version here

SENSITIVE THEMES

genre: smut

characters: Trafalgar D. Water Law, Portgas D. Ace

A/N: Dang sorry for not posting for a couple of days.🪰

TRAFALGAR D. WATER LAW

A lot of people see him as a constantly annoyed person. I like to think he is more of a creep.

Yk, that kid that stabbed a frog in kindergarten kind of dude.

He enjoys getting attention by being creepy.

However, in this situation, he will try to be as sneaky as possible.

He will be just staring at you when you sleep.

It will soon turn into him jerking off.

He has a room around him just in case you wake up.

His weird hobby will progress into touching your bare skin while you sleep.

Running his hands up and down your inner thighs.

He has withstood his urges a lot of times, but his curiosity got the best of him.

He silently takes off your pants and underwear.

He slips himself inside of you going real slow not wanting to wake you up.

His whispers of "fuck" fill the room as he feels your warmth.

He will cum on your body, but don't worry, he makes sure to clean it up, real good.

Kisses you before he leaves.

When you two interact normally, he can't keep his eyes off you.

PORTGAS D. ACE

Ace is not as creepy as he is curious and desperate.

He silently watches you sleep, adoring the way you move around.

He will start more romantically.

Kissing you softly. Caressing your cheeks. Looking at you like a teenage boy who fell in love.

His intentions are pure and innocent.

It was only one day that he got hard watching you sleep.

He was just like. "Fuck it." and jerked off to your sleeping form.

Post-nut clarity hit him hard.

He was thinking of why did he do that.

Those thoughts were shut off the next night when that urge caught him off guard again.

As time passed, he became addicted to it.

He wanted more. He was greedy.

He started touching you with his dick to get some kind of sexual tension.

In no time, the day comes when he gets too carried away.

He puts his dick inside of you and completely melts.

All the pleasure and pressure he is feeling right now is indescribable.

He whimpers but tries to keep it as quiet as possible.

He pulls out just in time and finishes into his hand.

He stumbles out of your room.

[ghost-proofbaby]

15 with Eddie? :)

i woke up this morning, rolled over, and immediately wrote this all on my phone. wasn't even 8 am and i was already all mushy and horny for this man. enjoy whatever this is (morning sex. it's morning sex and being in love) &lt;3

15. "I had a very nice dream that started like this."

warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), afab reader but no pronouns used, a lot of religious imagery idk why it just... worked?, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: eddie munson x afab!reader

wc: 2.9k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

The sun hadn’t even rose yet. The sky simply lighter, a gentle omniscient light peaking through the curtains, holding little to no warmth yet when you first awoke. The room is shades of grey with hints of violet, soft pinks just on the horizon but not quite painting the scene. 

It’s nice — it’s serene.

You can feel him breathing behind you. Still there, still warm, still holding you with one strong arm around your waist as his nose brushes at the nape of your neck, his snore rustling your hair ever so carefully. It’s almost enough to soothe you back to sleep; counting his deep intakes of air, exhaling in time with him, sinking deeper into bed sheets that are stained with the smell of his cologne and shampoo. Almost.

But when you first awake, you have a different idea in mind.

It starts off innocent enough. Small movements as you press yourself further back into Eddie, minuscule wiggles to just be close to him. You’re still half asleep and yet, every atom in your body is desperate to melt into him. You need every inch of his skin pressed tightly into yours. Your vision still blurry, but the instinct to burrow more tightly into your boy impossible to miss.

“I know you’re awake,” he suddenly murmurs into your neck, voice muffled and rough with his rest.

You hadn’t even noticed the change in his breathing. More focused on the ache between your thighs that you had woken up with. 

“Sh,” you jokingly whisper, smiling as you force your eyes back closed. He can’t even see your face, but it feels right to put on an act, “You’re gonna ruin it, Munson.” 

“‘M not ruining anything, baby,” he nearly slurs. His arm tightens around you, encouraging all your squirming, pulling your hips back to be flush with his a little more urgently.

He’s hard against your lower back. His flimsy boxers do nothing to hide his excitement. It isn’t particularly surprising — most mornings he wakes up hard as it is — but it does cause a soft stirring within you. Encourages your hips to swivel once more, action a bit more pointed, just enough pressure to cause a low groan to slip almost inaudible from between his lips.

“Careful,” he warns, voice a bit louder now. His tone is still gravely, scratching an itch of the farthest reaches of your mind. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and the sound of tires on dirt roads when your favorite person is returning home. Comforting. Serene. 

You press into him further, shamelessly grinding now, eyes still shut, “What? ‘M not doing anything.”

He doesn’t need to see your voice to hear that sleepy grin.

It doesn’t happen quickly — there’s no rush as he slowly tugs at your body, encouraging you to rotate so that he’s no longer spooning you. Your back digs into the mattress holding the warmth of his body from the entire night, wrapping you up in a bliss that’s impossible to replicate. His smell, his warmth, his presence. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of mornings like this, especially not when you finally open your eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a half-smile that accentuates  his left dimple. 

He’s fucking beautiful. It takes your breath away.

“What’s got you so excited this morning, hm?” 

The light has grown ever so slightly brighter, just enough as though it whispers, look at him. The room is still grey, but your boy is a vision of colors. Dark russet eyes with streaks of gold that the sun couldn’t compare to, chestnut hair that sticks up in all the wrong places from his slumber, skin that washes out in the pale winter morning and only makes the contrast of the soft fuchsias and violets blooming along his neck from the evening before more apparent. He’s softer than any sunrise, more relaxing than any bath he’s ever drawn for you, more calming than hearing your favorite song strummed out on muted guitar strings. 

You love him. And that only really fuels your flames.

“I had a very nice dream,” you mumble, squinting up at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. Your touch is delicate as you trace over his stubble, painting mindless patterns briefly before cupping the full side of his face and threading your fingertips into the edges of his hairline, “A very nice dream that started just like this.” 

He rolls his hips against your side, peering down at you as he does so, letting you guide him closer until his lips barely brush yours. 

You can hear birds chirping outside. There’s the rumble of a truck engine. The creak of a nearby front door opening and shutting.

The world is beginning to wake up, but you’re not quite yet ready to share the day with anyone but him. 

“You did, did you?” he’s awake enough now to tease you, body slowly inching its way over yours, arms on either side of your head to hold his weight. The plush comforter slips down, exposing his bare shoulders as his torso serves as your new blanket, “Tell me ‘bout it, baby.” 

Your legs fall open instinctively, making a home for him and only him. A space between your thighs perfectly carved out for the shape and weight of him as he slips into place, hips digging into yours, a homely and familiar position you’ve found yourself in a hundred times before. 

It never gets old. It never elicits any less of a reaction from you, always pulling the softest of gasps from your throat as he leans his head down to trail his lips down your exposed neck. 

The sound has him pulling you into him a bit more urgently, but his pace never quickens. He’s taking his time. You two have all the time.

A car alarm, distant as could be, sounds off. A voice of a neighbor echos across the trailer park. 

Maybe it’s an adoring husband wishing goodbye to his wife for the day. Or a mother, rushing her children for school. There’s a million and one scenarios, thousands of strangers beginning their dreary week, but you only care about the warm welcome of the day that he offers you. 

Anything but dreary, even in tired morning light.

“You were kissing my neck,” you say, careful to be as silent as can be, even if it were just the two of you in the room. The world doesn’t need to know you’re awake yet; it doesn’t deserve your attention like he does yet.

His teeth graze unintentionally against the soft spot below your ear, “Like this?”

“Just like that.”

For emphasis, you lift your hips, seeking out his with ease. You can feel him, pronounced as he presses against the thin fabric of your underwear. There’s too many layers between the two of you, too much cotton and linen in the shapes of his t-shirt you’d worn to bed and his damn boxers, but they’ll come off eventually. 

Eventually. There’s no rush.

Your head tilts back in a sigh, and he pauses all his kisses to ask, “What next?”

“Keep going,” you squirm, hips continuing to roll, flames of desire lighting in your gut, dancing as soft as the morning light, “Keep going, please.” 

The night before, he would have teased your desperation. 

But right now, with just you and him and the ghost of sleep, he’s not in the business of taunting. 

He listens, a hand coming down to your hip. Not holding it down to the mattress, but simply holding. He lets his thumb slip beneath the t-shirt, lets a rough callous built up from years of guitar and working on his van brush roughly over your skin with the most sensitive of intentions. 

Slowly. If the morning wasn’t so heavy still on the two of you, weighing down every movement, slowing every reaction and pacing every adoring kiss, this is the part where the two of you might have grown a bit impatient. More nipping, more bruising gripping, more complaints of going further, further, further. 

But today? In this moment? The two of you have time. 

A dream sequence of his wandering hands slipping that old faded tee up until it’s finally bunched at your chest, until he’s finally peeling himself away from your body and he’s lifting it over your head. Every move is brimming with a love you never thought possible. A love to swim in, a love to sink into. One with the capability to drown the two of you, but it only breathes a new life into both of your lungs. 

When his lips wrap around a nipple and your back arches, that love thrums a bit deeper, coiling up your insides and urging your fingers to tangle up into his curls. 

You need him closer.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against your skin as he mouths at it, “So, so fucking beautiful.” 

The back of your skull digs deeper into a pillow engrained with the shape of your head from years of rest, a soft laugh slipping in between your blissful breaths, “Don’t lie. I’m a mess right now.” 

You were. And so was he. In a barely awake, subtle and tired way. Messy hair, messy marks of sleep across cheeks, messy breaths not yet minty from a morning routine the two of you followed like a religion. 

His head lifts, eyes glowing in the limited light, “I like your mess. As a matter of fact, I love your mess.” 

His hand on your hip squeezes for emphasis. 

You look down, wordless as you drink him in. A vision between the pinks dancing through the curtains, a godly presence as the dawn breaks. He’s a salvation, a new beginning and a new ending. He’s everything fairytales had tried to convince you existed in your youth. Prettier than any angel, warmer than any sun. 

And he’s yours. In this moment, and in all the next ones.

“I think I can make an even bigger mess of you, though, if you’ll let me,” a devilish smile finally overtakes his features and both of those dimples you’ve become so unintentionally fond of make an appearance. 

He dips his head, lowers his voice, lets his lips explore. You nearly pray to the Heavens above as you feel his hand slip from its gentle cupping of your hip, moving to slip nimble fingers beneath the band of your panties — but you don’t. Not a single God would care about what’s happening right now.

Just two people, two souls, twisting up in their bed sheets. Finding each other, finding divinity, before the sun even has a chance to stretch its arms fully over the horizon.

When he sinks lower and his face disappears beneath the cloak of the comforter, you hold your breath. When his mouth finds your cunt over fabric, you release it with a moan.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, both hands pulling off your underwear, pressing a hard kiss one final time over the cotton before he slips them off, “Keep making those pretty noises for me.” 

Your thighs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he begins his morning worship. All lips and tongue and finding the right places as fast as possible. Not out of a rush, but out of practice. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and he proves it. 

He knows exactly how hard to suck on your clit once he’s captured it between his lips. He knows exactly where to trace his tongue, circling your hole in lazy circles, not quite teasing but not quite succumbing as he lets you buck your hips in reckless abandon. When to speed up, when to slow down, when to add a finger and when to let the gravel of his voice vibrate against your core — he knows you. Through every little whimper, through every soft chanting of his name, through every tug of his hair. 

And he knows you well enough to know when to stop his ministrations, pulling back only to crawl his way back up your body, his boxers slipping off somewhere in the process. 

You’re still all over his lips as he kisses you fervently, slick and sticky and a little tart as his tongue dives into your mouth.

And just as he knows you, you know him.

You’d lied, of course. You hadn’t really had a dream just like this. You can’t even remember how you’d awoken with such want, but all that mattered is you had. You’d woken up to an all-consuming need, even if your half-conscious state, and you’d woken up to him.

Your hand reaches down between the two of you, wrapping around him carefully. Your skin is still cooler than his, it’s always cooler than his in the dead of night, and he hisses at the content.

“I love you, you know?” you quietly confess to your lover, as though it might be a sin, as though it might be the greatest secret to ever be held on a patient tongue. 

His skin is nearly velvet under your touch, pliant in your palm as you stroke him. Each movement and twist of your wrist begins to unravel him, his head dropping to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Every pant of his breath brushes skin just as his snores had. 

Gold litters the shade of sunrise entering the room, but the only warm colors you care to entertain are the ones in his eyes as he finally looks at you and tugs your hand away.

“I love you more.” 

You could argue. You could fight him on it, start to rattle off your list of all the things you adore about him, prove that no one has ever loved another person in this lifetime the way that you’ve loved him. The freckle below his right eye, the chip in on of his canines from an accident in his youth, the scar on his left knuckles from the first time he’d tried to do a trick with a butterfly knife at nine years old. The jokes he interrupts your day so kindly with, breaking up the mundane with laughter that seemingly fuels you to carry on with your time until you’ve returned home to just him. The passion that flows inside of him until it pours out over everything sacred to him — his music, his interests, his friends, you. A passionate and devoted man, yours to have and yours to hold.

But you don’t argue the point. You just smile as he kisses you, deep and searching, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He loves you more, you love him most. He’ll figure it out — eventually. 

The stretch of him is pleasurable, just like it always is. Filling you, warming you, making that closer you crave so ardently nearly tangible. Every roll of his hips has him reaching spots inside of you to elicit stars to cloud your vision. The morning light, the white hot pleasure — you don’t care what makes your vision blue. You only care that it does, all your mews and all his groans entangling up in the air. 

Your palms slide over the back of his shoulders, your fingers dig into soft skin that you’ll spend the rest of your days memorizing.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

No prayer has ever been repeated with such need or belief as his name from your lips. 

And he returns the favor. Gasping out your name, somehow finding himself just enough in his right mind to continue to whisper sweet nothings against your ear, timing them with his leisurely thrusts.

“So fucking tight and so fucking good to me,” he manages to gasp, digging his hips in a little harsher, “Could stay here forever. Kind of want to stay here forever.” 

You don’t know how he’s coherent; you can’t form a single response, eyes rolling, hands clinging to him tighter. 

“Look at me when you cum.” 

He knows you. He knows you very well. You hadn’t even noticed that coiling in your stomach or the fluttering of your walls when he calls you out, forehead pressing to yours as your eyes open to find his. 

It’s not world-shattering when the waves come — it doesn’t have to be. It’s something to wrap around your entire essence, something to soothe and something to coax you into oblivion. Something to get lost in as his movements stutter and his own eyes grow heavy.

He doesn’t close his eyes, and neither do you. Lost in that pleasure, and lost in each other. 

You’re still rhythmically clenching around him when he comes, filling you up with warmth, burying deep in you and holding there as his mouth falls open and you're quick to pepper his outstretched neck with kisses. The smallest reminders of all the love you have for him. The gentlest of devotions, sprinkled across the skin of a man who will always know an affection like no other. Not everyone in the world will be so lucky as to know the fondness you offer him, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s how it should be. 

Curses spill as his movements slow, before finally stilling. He drops his weight onto you, exhaustion finding its way back into his bones. 

There’s things to do, a day to begin. Work and people waiting on you two, responsibilities to worry about and daily mundane accomplishments to achieve. But for now, it’s just the two of you. Awake with the rest of the world, but completely separate as you cradle him and he holds you. 

“That was one Hell of a way to wake up, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, and you only throw your head back in a laugh.

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[theprongspotter]

Stream - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 31 - 799 words

“Shit,” Regulus curses under his breath, fingers moving deftly over the controls as his character takes a hit. His eyes narrow in concentration, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he whips around and expertly snipes the enemy. The satisfying sound of the hit confirms his success, and a grin blossoms onto his face, a rare moment of genuine pride breaking through his usual calm demeanor.

He spares a glance at the chat on his second monitor, curious to see the reactions of his viewers. As he’s streaming on Twitch, he expects to see comments about the precision of his shot or praise for his tactical decision. Instead, the chat is flooded with compliments of a different nature entirely, catching him off guard.

reggieslefttoe: HIS VOICE

cassiecries: okay but why was that hot??

Regulus blinks, momentarily thrown by the unexpected turn of the conversation. He’s never shown his face on stream, preferring to keep his identity private, so the influx of comments about his voice feels a bit surreal. His heart skips a beat, and a faint blush creeps up his neck as he scans the chat, more messages piling in.

ghostlyghoul: i could listen to him talk all day tbh

whatissleep: Did anyone else get chills or just me??

Regulus clears his throat, trying to refocus on the game, but it’s no use. His mind is now stuck on the fact that his viewers aren’t just here for the gameplay—they’re here for him. The thought is both flattering and nerve-wracking, and he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks despite his best efforts to keep cool.

“Uh, thanks, I guess?” he mumbles into his mic, trying to play it off casually, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in his voice. He can’t help the small, sheepish smile that tugs at his lips as more comments flood in, each one making him feel a little more flustered than the last.

nightowl: omg he’s shy, that’s so cute

pixelpotion: Guys, we broke him lmao

Regulus lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he returns his attention to the game. “You lot are impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no mistaking the amusement in his tone. Despite the teasing, he finds himself oddly touched by the affection from his viewers, even if it’s not the kind he was expecting.

Then, a chime sounds, catching Regulus' attention as a new notification pops up on the screen. His eyes widen as he sees the amount—five hundred dollars. It’s not the first time he’s received a donation, but this one is more than generous. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but when he reads the username attached to it, a laugh bubbles out of him, warm and full of affection.

prongs: guys sorry to break it to you but he’s mine <333

The message hangs in the air for a moment before the chat erupts into chaos, messages flooding in faster than Regulus can keep up. The viewers are going absolutely wild, spamming the chat with everything from heart emojis to exclamations of shock and excitement. It’s a frenzy of curiosity and congratulations, the revelation sending the whole stream into a joyful uproar.

reggieslefttoe: WAIT WHO IS PRONGS???

cassiecries: HE’S TAKEN?!?!?!

nightowl: I KNEW IT OMG

Regulus just smiles, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the game. He can’t help but feel a bit smug, knowing that James—always the one to make grand gestures—chose such a public way to stake his claim. He leans a little closer to his mic, his voice soft but clear, the affection evident as he confirms what everyone’s already buzzing about.

“That is, in fact, my boyfriend,” he says, his tone filled with pride and fondness.

The chat goes wild again, the comments now a mixture of playful jealousy and supportive cheers. Regulus watches the messages scroll by, his smile only growing wider as he reads them. It’s not every day that his viewers get a glimpse into his personal life, and even though he usually prefers to keep that part of himself private, this moment feels right—like a small, shared secret between him, James, and his viewers.

But Regulus knows he has a game to play, and he’s already feeling the heat in his cheeks from all the attention. “Alright, back to the game,” he says, trying to steer the focus away from himself, though the smile on his face lingers, making it clear that the comments—and James’ surprise donation—have done more than just fluster him. They’ve brightened his entire day.

As he dives back into the gameplay, the chat continues to buzz with excitement, the energy infectious. But now, there’s a lightness in Regulus’ voice, a playful edge to his banter with his viewers that wasn’t there before.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Okay,, you have to let us know are the eggs any characters Specifically like megumi or itadori? I bet they would be clingy mommas boys.

Love you crumbs you give us and happy late birthday 🫶🏻

awww ty bestie okay okay okay holdonholdon

You'd name the hatchlings. Idk if I mentioned this or not but in the excerpt, the reader names Suguru and Satoru cuz they didn't have a concept of language yet. I think once they had a general concept of human language, they'd use their human names for each other just like you do.

When Nobara, Yuji and Megumi hatch, they'd definitely hang onto you the most. It's mostly because you are the most caring out of the throuple you were forced into. It makes sense for you to care about them, right? After all, human babies are pretty helpless and that's how far your knowledge extends. And they're adorable, with big round eyes, making cute little chitters. You get a tiny bit protective of them, especially considering the other two nagas don't carry the same sentiment. Suguru is clearly a believer of tough love and you've caught Satoru trying to put one of the eggs in his mouth (you're pretty sure he was joking...but you arent risking it when they're this tiny). They're small right now, but naga hatchlings grow up fast. They're practically your height in just a couple of years.

I feel personally, Yuji would be the (most outwardly) clingiest. He's affectionate, more dog than snake, sometimes. He's the largest of his siblings. When he was smaller, his favorite thing to do was wrap himself around your shoulders and you'd carry him around. He can't do that now, but he has other ways of spending time with you. He 'hunts' with you the most, assisting you with collecting berries and fruit. Apart from you, he'd bond with Satoru more. They share a similar personality, both are easily amused.

Megumi would be the shyest, but he loves you just as much as his siblings do. Much like his fathers, he enjoys the warmth you provide and would love cuddling with you in the languid hours of the evening. He doesn't do that much when he's older, but he's still interested in spending time with you! He likes quality time, the most. Eventually, during your time on the island, you'd have set up a tiny garden. He'd help with that. He and Suguru would have lots of similarities, so you'd often catch them together. They'd both help with your garden, helping cultivate the seeds and soil. It's not natural for them, but they understand you're different from nagafolk

But I think Nobara would be the one you're the closest to. She hatched the first. She's also different from her brothers. Again, in the naga species, the females become something akin to sirens. Slowly, you'd notice how different she is compared to her brothers, how much she enjoys the water, how dry her skin gets when she stays on land for too long. She'd evolve differently. Webbed hands, her tail would be more lithe, finned.

Because she's so different, Satoru and Suguru don't have much of an interest in her. Again, much like reptiles, nagas are fairly independent at a young age. Satoru and Suguru allow the hatchlings to stick around because you'd pitch a fit otherwise and they try to keep their mate happy. Once it becomes clear Nobara is aquatically gifted, you'd be terrified of the thought of her being out alone at sea, so you'd often go out with her, not caring how pruny your fingers get. Because of how much time you spend with her, I think she'd be the most interested in humans. She'd ask you about human culture, human customs. Every once in a while, she'd go out and collect remnants of humanity, clothes, trinkets, jewelry, anything she can find off the ocean floor. She'd sit on the rocky shore, holding out each one, demanding you to explain them to her.

You wouldn't dare mention how much you fear her fathers, but I feel Nobara would be the first to realize that you don't want to be here. She can see it in your eyes, the longing whenever you're explaining another human trinket. She wants you to be happy, but if you go back to the humans....would you still have time for her? Would you still braid her hair? Take care of her? Love her?

In the end, Nobara is the most similar to her fathers. She'd keep you on the island too.

ughhhhhh i should just write that chaptered naga fic already this is getting ridiculous.

[nephalem-da]

Headcanons for Life with a Chaotic Triangle

(Bill Cipher x Gn!Reader)

Warning: My version of Bill includes; Soft!Bill Cipher, OOC, lots of fluff moments, no use of Y/n. Reader is not mentioned to be human or not.

△ This version of Bill Cipher is a master of chaos, always one step ahead of everyone else. He loves playing pranks, bending reality, and causing mischief. But when it comes to you, he's surprisingly sweet—most of the time. He enjoys teasing you, but there’s always a line he won’t cross. It’s like he has two sides: the one the world fears and the one who melts whenever you’re around.

△ Date nights with Bill are anything but ordinary. He’ll take you to different dimensions, create dreamscapes that defy logic, or whisk you away to see the stars up close. No two dates are ever the same. One moment, you’re having dinner at the bottom of the ocean, and the next, you’re dancing on the rings of Saturn. He delights in seeing your reactions to his world, and he loves showing off his powers just to impress you.

△ Bill isn’t exactly the cuddly type, but he shows affection in his own unique ways. He’ll wrap you in an aura of warmth when you’re cold, create tiny versions of himself to keep you company when he’s away, or even manipulate time just so you can have a few more minutes in bed together. When he’s feeling particularly sentimental, he’ll let you catch glimpses of his true feelings through his eye, where you can see the affection and care he holds for you.

△ Bill is fiercely protective of you, though he rarely shows it in obvious ways. If anyone dares to mess with you, they’ll find themselves lost in a never-ending maze of madness, courtesy of your triangle boyfriend. But he’s also proud of your ability to hold your own, and he loves watching you handle yourself in tricky situations. He might even orchestrate a challenge or two just to see how you’ll overcome it.

△ Despite his chaotic nature, Bill is incredibly attuned to your emotions. He’ll go out of his way to make you smile, even if it means toning down his usual antics for a bit. He has a knack for knowing exactly what you need, whether it’s a moment of peace or a whirlwind of excitement. Your happiness is his top priority, and he’ll move mountains (literally) to ensure you’re content.

△ Life with Bill is never boring, especially when it comes to intellectual debates. He loves a good argument, especially when you challenge him. You’ve learned that he respects you even more when you stand your ground, and he enjoys the mental sparring. These debates often end with him grinning in admiration at your wit and intelligence, sometimes even conceding a point or two—though he’ll never admit it out loud.

△ There are rare moments when Bill lets his guard down completely, showing you a side of him that no one else ever sees. He might reveal a bit of his past, his fears, or even his doubts. During these times, he’s more open and honest, allowing you to see the depth of his character. These moments strengthen your bond and remind you that beneath all the chaos, there’s a being who deeply cares for you.

△ Holidays and special occasions are wild affairs with Bill. Expect the unexpected—like a birthday party where the cake sings or a Halloween where the haunted house you visit is an actual haunted dimension. He takes joy in making these moments memorable, with his unique brand of fun, making sure you’ll never forget the time you spend together.

△ Despite his wild personality, Bill is incredibly loyal to you. He may flirt with chaos and cause trouble everywhere else, but when it comes to you, he’s fully committed. He cherishes your relationship and takes pride in being your partner. Bill sees you as his equal, and he’s always eager to share his world—and his heart—with you.

△ In the end, Bill sees your relationship as something beyond the limits of time and space. He’s in it for the long haul, and he’s ready to keep things interesting for eternity. He’ll never let your love grow stale, always finding new ways to surprise you, challenge you, and make you laugh. To him, you’re the one thing in the multiverse that’s truly worth holding onto.

△ But let's say you’re close friends with the Pines family, having grown up around them or met them during your adventures in Gravity Falls. You’ve become like family to them, often getting involved in their strange and supernatural escapades. Dipper admires your bravery and quick thinking, Mabel adores your creativity and fun-loving nature, and Stan enjoys your wit and loyalty. You’ve spent countless summer nights with them, stargazing, exploring the mysteries of the town, and fighting off strange creatures.

△ When Weirdmageddon strikes, your relationship with Bill complicates things. The Pines family doesn’t initially know about your connection to Bill, but as the chaos unfolds, they start to notice his odd behavior around you. He’s less hostile when you’re present, and you seem to have an influence on him that no one else does. The Pines are torn between trusting you and their deep-seated fear of Bill. However, they recognize that you’re not under his control; instead, you’re someone he genuinely cares for.

△ During Weirdmageddon, you find yourself torn between helping the Pines and dealing with Bill’s chaotic reign. You try to convince Bill to tone down the destruction, using your influence to protect the people of Gravity Falls. It’s a tough balance, but Bill surprisingly listens to you, albeit reluctantly. He may not completely stop his plans, but he finds ways to bend the rules or give you subtle warnings to keep you and the Pines family safe.

△ Eventually, the Pines family learns about your relationship with Bill. They’re initially shocked, especially Dipper, who’s skeptical and worried about how this could affect their battle against Bill. Mabel, ever the optimist, tries to see the good in your relationship, and even Stan has to admit that Bill seems to care for you in his own twisted way. Over time, they come to realize that your bond with Bill might be the key to saving the town—or at least keeping things from getting worse.

△ Bill’s affection for you becomes even more apparent during Weirdmageddon. He may be the lord of chaos, but when it comes to you, he’s softer and more considerate. He’s still his mischievous self, but there’s a noticeable change in how he treats you compared to everyone else. He’ll create safe spaces amidst the madness, allowing you moments of calm and peace. The Pines notice how he goes out of his way to make sure you’re unharmed, even if it means delaying his plans or redirecting his chaos.

△ During the final battle against Bill, your presence becomes crucial. The Pines rely on you to get through to him, to find a way to reach whatever humanity—or triangleity—Bill has left. Your connection with Bill makes the difference, giving the Pines an edge in the fight. You manage to appeal to his better side, convincing him to spare the town or at least leave you and the Pines alone. It’s a tense moment, but your love for Bill and his love for you ultimately help sway the outcome.

△ After Weirdmageddon ends, the Pines family’s view of Bill softens, if only slightly, because of you. While they may never fully trust him, they acknowledge that your influence kept things from getting even worse. Your relationship with the Pines is forever changed, but it’s stronger for having gone through the chaos together. Bill, on the other hand, may still be the master of mischief, but he’s more careful about how his actions affect you and your loved ones.

[lukolabrainrot]

London Thoughts and The Events Since

Alright, y'all have been requesting it, so here we go...

First, let's take a step into a little story shall we:

26 y/o boy living on his friend's couch trying to make it as an on-screen actor (but a sweet theater nerd at heart). Starts a new relationship with someone also into theater. It's homey and nice and going well. Boy is about to give up on breaking out of theater when BOOM now introducing Colin Bridgerton. Boy meets girl playing his romantic counterpart in the show and BOOM what is all this warmth he feels for her. Boy is in awe and just mesmerized by this girl. The boy loves this girl. But wait, the boy is a little bit younger than the girl, and the boy has a girlfriend. The boy wants to make things work with his girlfriend. He loves her. So the boy pushes those feelings down and becomes good friends with the girl, but they flirt with each other constantly, and others start picking up on an energy between them. The boy's girlfriend also starts picking up on the energy between her boyfriend and the girl. She knows what her boyfriend looks like when he is in love. The boy and the girl are going to finally be the leads in the show. It is a very exciting time, and the boy and girl get a lot closer. Things with the boy and his girlfriend start to sour for various reasons, and the girlfriend starts to get a little insecure and jealous of the girl. The boy tries to distance himself from the girl, but then has to redirect all his attention on the girl when they start filming their season. This is the breaking point with the boy and his girlfriend, and they part ways. The boy and the girl channel all of their pent up sexual chemistry and feelings into their characters, and they are having an amazing time. The dials on the flirting turn to 11, and they start toying with the idea of acting on their feelings in private. Eventually, they do. Their season wraps up, and they are having a great time with each other in private. Things are going well for a while, and they are playing sneaky little SM games with the fans to tease that they might be a little more than friends. However, the girl is pretty jaded about love, and has not prioritized that part of her life in a long time. The girl also really likes the boy, and doesn't want to mess anything up between them. The boy is ALL IN though, and wants something more than casual. The girl puts the breaks on the relationship, but there are a lot of deep feelings for each other that both of them have still not shared. The boy then goes on a HBS and casually dates people who seem totally different from the girl because the boy is a little heartbroken, and does not want to be reminded of the girl. The boy is also not emotionally available, because the boy and the girl never established firm boundaries on what their relationship will be moving forward. Eventually, the boy meets someone that he has fun with, and she gets along with his friends. However, the boy and the girl come back together to finish filming for their season, and ALL of the feelings come flooding back. But the boy is again (kind of) in a relationship, but BOOM the boy and the girl then have to spend the next 6 months promoting their season all over the world with all of these unresolved feelings...

Alright, I have to say, I had a lot of fun writing that 😂 Soooo, these are my theories on where L/N were at when the PR tour started in January. And then I already talked about my theories on what happened between them on the PR tour. Which leads us to London...

London

I will say this, I personally didn't observe any MAJOR changes in the nonverbal cues in how L/N were interacting with each other in London. Also, which was particularly telling to me, N still had the total heart eyes for L (you can tell because L has this habit of losing track of what he is saying when she is looking at him like that, which he did at least twice from what I remember during the various interviews they did in London). She also just had this happy glow about her like she was really at ease and content (which I also thought was interesting because they both must have been SOO tired by this point 🤔). HOWEVER, I did notice that L seemed a little more anxious than normal, and started using more distancing language and just in general seemed way less on-board with the shipping around L/N. And by the London red carpet, I realized something big was going on internally for L based on the body language and behavior. SOME of that I think is because red carpet events are just challenging for him in general (might have something to do with his anxiety and ADHD). I also think though that there was a lot more going on BTS during this period than we were privy to at the time. Here are my thoughts on what was going on during London (based off everything we know now):

Let's first remember the goldmine that was Ireland (which was JUST a few days prior). And I choose to believe N that L/N stayed the weekend with her family (which is still WILD to me that she admitted that on a public interview, because people are obviously going to read into that 🙃). And also WHYYY would she lie about that, when it's such a personal thing and had nothing to do with the show. I mean yes, maybeee she was lying, but it just doesn't really make sense to me that she would lie about THAT.

I started noticing near the last leg of the tour (by Toronto), N started to be a LOT more obvious about her feelings for L, and was making some pretty big slip-ups (and personally I observed that it seemed L was the one who was noticing and trying to correct for that and not let the WHOLE cat out of the bag). Now why was N being so obvious? SHE WAS REALLY HAPPY WITH HIM. And I think this is a lot newer for N because she has been so jaded about love and romance for such a long time. Even though I firmly believe L fell first, I think this was a lot more of a big deal for N because she hasn't had something like this in a long time (imo). So she was just really excited and giddy and having a hard time hiding it.

I think L/N had some conversations while they were in Ireland about how they were going to handle their public narrative moving forward, because like I mentioned in my A theories here, L was always going to have to start publicly distancing himself from N (REGARDLESS of what was actually going on with L/N BTS). And personally, I think that started by the promo in London, which I think was kind of jarring for the public that was following along considering L/N's behavior just a few days before in Ireland.

Therefore, I think a lot of this change in body language and responses from L was coming from the feelings he was having around this, as well as knowing that soon he would have to go public with A. I'm sure this was incredibly stressful, and as we know, L is not very subtle or good at lying/hiding his true feelings. However, I don't think this shift in L was coming from any type of shift in feelings between L/N. I think by London, L had become super self-conscious and in his head about everything, and I think he was just ready to be done with the promo because it was giving him a lot of anxiety. I think a lot of those feelings though were coming from wanting to protect NICOLA. I think L/N had a plan on how they were going to handle distancing in their public narrative after the London premiere, BUT I personally believe A hijacked that narrative...

To Papgate and Beyond

So, I think we all know the events of everything that has happened since the London premiere between L/N/A, and I still stand by my thoughts on the situation here. This is what I will add (again, these are just theories though based on the information we have now and what I have observed):

I am fairly certain that A was responsible for tipping the paps off for the hotel pics because she was upset and trying to reclaim some control on the situation. It was obvious that DM's objective was to sell a certain narrative, and they weren't really able to get that because I don't think L had any plan to publicly acknowledge her that night (mainly based on the damage control he had to do right after, and how L/N were interacting on SM following the event). The only person who benefited from those pics was A, and all the roads lead back to her being involved with DM in some type of way if you look at all the information we have now. Now was L's team involved with the first set of pap pics after the after party? Maybe, I just don't have enough information to say yes or no. I could see though that this may have been planned in advance on his side to start to publicly distance/seperate himself some form N. However, I don't really have any information to prove that, more just a feeling.

I think part of the understanding that L came to with A after Brazil was allowing her to get attention by publicly linking herself to him, regardless of the negative impact it may have on his career in the short-run. I think the reason it seems like he is just passively letting things happen around him related to SM and the press is because HE IS. After Papgate 2.0 and all the information that came out around that, it became clear to me that A has a larger goal to get her name out there THROUGH HIM, regardless of how it makes him look. And I think there is an understanding between L/A that he's just not going to ask questions and let her do what she wants and let the cards fall where they may for right now.

Now you might say, that doesn't make a lot of sense, why would he do that, it seems like kind of a poor choice career wise? Yes, I agree, this was not a great career move (and I think he underestimated HOW MUCH of an impact this was going to have). However, like I have said, it is my belief that L decided he was going to take the bullet for what (MAY) have occurred between him and N on the tour because he's trying to protect NICOLA's public image. I think he had a different plan though on how he was going to introduce A to the public, but once A hijacked that, I think he was kind of just stuck in a situation where he had to let A do what she wants because again, HE DOESN'T WANT A TO LEAK INFORMATION ABOUT HIM AND N.

If ANY of my theories around A that I have mentioned so far are true (and I am almost certain that SOME of them are), there is NO way L/A are doing great on an emotional level. Which is why the public optics around them have looked so strange starting from when she was publicly introduced at Papgate. I think it is also PARTICULARLY telling that even though the cat is out of the bag regarding A, his team will still not publicly confirm she is his girlfriend. Personally, I think that is intentional because it makes it easier to untangle himself more quietly from her in like 3-4 months (which I think is the plan). I could be wrong though of course, but something in my gut, based on everything I have seen, tells me that they aren't all happy and boo'd up like A the press wants us to think. There are just too many weird and shady things going on BTS.

Lastly, I think it was ALWAYS the plan for L/N to publicly disconnect after the London premiere. However, that doesn't really have anything to do with their private relationship. We only see a small sliver of their lives, and we have no way of knowing the full story BTS because we don't know them. I also think a lot of people are struggling with the fact that there was SO MUCH content of them for MONTHS, and now we have been cut off cold turkey. I don't personally find though the lack of content or SM interactions with each other currently as a direct indicator of the status of their relationship (ex: I don't think it's a direct indicator that they have ill feelings towards each other). Let's assume my theory is correct that the PR tour forced the two of them to address some deep feelings for each other that they had been having for a while, and those feelings were reciprocated. And then this newfound evolution in their relationship played out on a very public stage while L was publicly connected to someone else. That is a lot of pressure and incredibly stressful. I could not even imagine. Therefore, I think L/N are navigating some complicated things in private, but I don't think that it negates the positive emotional shift they had during the tour. I think they need to take this time out of the public eye to explore these complex, newfound feelings and developments in their relationship. I still don't think though that we would have seen what we did between L/N during the tour by Toronto if they weren't on the same page about seriously exploring their romantic feelings at some point in the near future. But those are just my thoughts...

Anywhooo, that concludes my L/N timeline theories 😊 Thanks for coming to my TedTalk! 😂

[lisired]

ex marks the spot

pairing: ex!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, a pinch of angst, mystery, exes to lovers, (mentions of) characters death, graphic descriptions of violence and murder, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, oral (m/f)

summary: Two months ago, you and Mark called it quits and haven’t spoken to each other since. As per tradition, your respective friend groups gather each Christmas eve to keep the peace, but this year somebody has a different plan. And the new chick on Mark’s arm isn’t the worst thing to happen.

wc: 19.9k

author’s note: (this is a repost!) nothing like a christmas mystery lol. partly inspired by honey lavender by ieuan. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Distractions, you chanted to yourself, desperate to think about literally anything other than your many problems. 

A tall window overlooked the entire city, as far as you were concerned. Nightfall had taken over and the bustling streets were caked in thick clunks of snow. Pressing your fingertips against the glass, you could feel relentless winter. 

None of it did anything to soothe the white hot envy scorching its way down your throat. Across the room, there was a blonde girl on Mark’s arm, snuggling against his chest and sucking up all of his warmth. 

That should’ve been you, but you would never admit to yourself (or anyone) that you were jealous of her. You had way too much pride for a silly thing like that. Of course, Mark had never brought a girl to one of these events before, and you had an inkling it was solely to make you jealous. You couldn’t let him win. 

“This is my friend Jodie,” Mark had introduced the girl hanging on his every word like a lovestruck teenager, but noting how close they kept to each other amongst many other things, it was safe to assume they were more than friends. 

Less than lovers, probably, but undeniably more than friends. 

Johnny, the man of the hour, came floating your way with the grace of a butterfly and said, “Damn. You could just tell me if you’re hating the party.”

Your eyes flickered. “What?”

“You’re mad. It’s written all over your body language.” Then, he craned his head and whispered in your ear, “Have a drink and relax a little. Don’t let him know he’s getting to you.”

“He’s not getting to me,” you grumbled under your breath, but you knew that it was an obvious lie. 

“If he’s not, then Jodie sure is. That’s what he wants. The whole reason he’s sucking her face off by the hearth is because he wants you to see.”

You knew that. Mark always wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged. His whole life was based on making people look at him, to which you were no exception. Your relationship consisted of him doing anything and everything necessary to grab your attention, but in all honesty, it didn’t take a whole lot. 

You could never keep your eyes off Mark and he knew it. Wherever he went, he was the most radiant person in the room. He was a Leo to his fucking core.

Getting back in character, you straightened up your stance and threw Johnny a beaming smile. “It’s a wonderful party.”

Johnny grinned. “There she goes,” he said in his regular speaking voice, pleased at your new demeanor. 

He was the master of all things body language and human psychology. He had been friends with you long enough to be confident that you’d never want your ex thinking for a second that he had one up on you. At least you knew somebody would always have your back. With Mark and his friends, you couldn’t help but watch it. 

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, grateful he’d come get you together. And quickly at that. 

“You’re my friend.”

“Mark’s your friend.”

“Yeah, but Mark’s a dickhead.”

You snickered. “Amen to that.”

Johnny was the middleman between you and Mark’s individual friend groups. After an incident dating back all the way to your senior year in high school, your former friend group of nine was split in two. You, Jeno, and Jaehyun on one side, with Mark, Chungha, Haechan, and Yuta on the other. 

Johnny, the god of friendly relations that he was, managed to drift between both sides. Matter of fact, these parties of his were the whole reason you even saw the other side of the group every year. If it weren’t for Johnny wanting to maintain the peace, most of you would never be in the same room again for any purpose. 

You took a glimpse around the party. It was being held in Johnny’s sumptuous two-floor penthouse this year after the outdoor disaster that was last year's Christmas eve reunion. To say the least, hypothermia had never seemed scarier. 

Unsurprisingly, Mark still had his hands and mouth all over Jodie as they stood near the hearth, the fireplace decorated in limestone. Chungha was marveling at Johnny's case of precious stones and cabochon gems. Off to your right, Haechan had his face set in a scowl. 

“Haechan looks happy to be here,” you quipped with total sarcasm.

Johnny didn’t even spare Haechan a glance, like he already knew what he’d see if he looked, and chuckled. “Yeah, we got into a tiny argument a few minutes back. He’ll be fine.”

That piqued your curiosity, but you didn’t press. Haechan always went looking for trouble and Johnny stopped it before it could even happen. Of course Haechan disliked that. 

The elevator dinged, revealing a fashionably late Jeno. Johnny noticed and glanced at you, saying, “I’ve got to greet our favorite guest. Thanks for coming, by the way.”

You shot him an amused grin. “I came for you, but I’m staying for the margaritas.”

Johnny shook his head and laughed. After asking him to tell Jeno that you said hello, the two of you went your own separate ways. 

For a little bit, you went to mingle, but you realized quickly that there weren’t a lot of people you were keen on having a conversation with. Jeno, your best friend, was with Johnny. That left Jaehyun, Johnny’s stepbrother, but you knew he preferred to be left alone. 

Mark obviously wasn’t an option. Even if he knew you better than anyone in the room. 

In spite of knowing you wouldn’t be there long, you made small talk with Jaehyun for a couple of minutes before he got an apparently urgent text message on his phone and excused himself apologetically. 

To where, you had no fucking clue. This was your first time in Johnny’s penthouse regardless of how close you were. You spent very little time in the city and even less at your own home. It was a blessing you hadn’t missed one of these parties yet. 

Maybe a curse. To be frank, you didn’t want to be here, but that had almost everything to do with Mark. Bringing Jodie along to an annual reunion for friends was low, even for him. But you kind of wished you had somebody to keep you company like he did. 

You exhaled your feelings and pretended that they didn’t bother you. Your mother told you a long time ago that the only person you’d ever be able to depend on was yourself and though she had her own set of parenting  complications, it was the best advice she’d ever given you. 

Speaking of advice, Johnny’s was starting to appear way too appetizing and you made a beeline for the kitchen, slipping past Yuta who was apparently on the phone. Those infamous mango margaritas were calling your name. 

When you entered the hallway, turning around the corner from the dining room, you almost immediately retreated. You almost told Johnny that you couldn’t be here for another minute. But Mark noticed you and it was too late. He would immediately know what was going on and take it as a surrender. 

“Look who decided to come,” Mark said sharply, a greeting of his own in some twisted way. “I bet you were hoping to see a fruity cocktail.”

“Yes, and you’re standing in my way,” you spat, gesturing to the cabinets behind you. 

Mark furrowed a brow. “You aren’t going to take one that’s already there?”

You looked at him like he had fifteen heads. Those could’ve easily been spiked with any substance. “Mark, half the people in this house hate each other. I love margaritas, but I love my life way more. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Mark scooted out of your way, though only because he knew the bounds of your survival. It was all that you knew.  

You reached around, grabbing ingredients from various places. All the while, Mark stood there, hating how unbothered you were. He was desperate to get a reaction out of you and would go to great lengths to get what he was searching for. 

His eyes were fixed to your frame and the green sequin gown hugging it tightly. There was a long slit running down the side that Mark clocked before you turned to face the counter, offering a delicious view of one of your perfect legs. When his eyes lifted from your beautiful curves, he noticed the dress was backless. 

Fuck, you were still gorgeous. Worst of all, you were still exactly everything he imagined and wanted. The girl of his dreams. 

“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you,” Mark admitted, staring daggers into your back.

You rooted in place with shock at the blurted confession, hands on a bottle of tequila, wondering if he had any liquor in his system making him a little more blunt than he should’ve been. 

Until Mark finished, “Because if anyone’s going to kill you, it’s going to be me.”

The flutter in your chest immediately settled back into exasperation. Mark wasn’t afraid of having an altercation with you and he knew he could get away with it without suspicion. Given the bad blood between your respective friend groups, occasional animosity was to be expected. 

Plus it wasn’t like it was still some grave-bound secret. It also wasn’t as if you never saw the glares Haechan threw your way. 

You recovered with a roll of your eyes, turning to him and snapping, “How long are you going to hate me?”

“As long as it takes,” Mark growled, parading out of the kitchen before you could get another word in. He wasn’t prepared to argue yet, but he refused to let you have the last word. 

You shook your head in contempt. Mark wasn’t just your former lover, but the other half of you, regardless of how corny it sounded. You knew he could hold a grudge until the day he was six feet under. As long as it takes. For what, you had no clue. 

Finishing up the cocktail, you cleaned up behind yourself and prepared to head back out to the party, though made a last-minute decision to linger in the kitchen. You were irritated and you weren’t in the mood to socialize or see Mark again until your system had a little liquor. 

A few moments afterwards, Jeno bounced into the kitchen eagerly, grinning from ear to ear like he knew that he’d find you here. As if to sell your suspicions, he greeted, “Found you. And it only took eight seconds.”

You chuckled, sipping from your glass. Though you already knew the answer, you humored him, asking, “How’d you find me?” 

“Easy. I just followed the tequila.”

“Me and tequila do go way back,” you replied, smiling at the memories. Some good, some… unspeakable. You gestured to your glass. “Want one?”

Jeno shook his head. “No thanks. I’m good.”

You gasped dramatically and joked, “What, are you pregnant?”

“No way. I’m a complete virgin.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re a complete fucking lie.”

Jeno looked like he couldn’t even take himself seriously. Then, he shifted the topic, mentioning, “I saw Mark storm out of here. That also was a hint as to your whereabouts.”

You fought a grimace, deciding nonchalance was key. “We talked for the first time in two months. Since the breakup.”

“How did that go?”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” you mumbled, the memory making you wince and take another generous sip. 

Jeno grimaced. “Yeah, he didn’t look too happy. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, though you weren’t certain. Your heart still raced a little when Mark was close enough. But a familiar pain always followed in its wake. 

Jeno gave you a knowing look, but said nothing. Both of you were distracted by the sound of footsteps, noticing Johnny and Jodie cruising down the hallways. From the looks of it, he was giving her a tour. She was giving Johnny heart eyes.

You arched a brow in curiosity, while Jeno appeared amused. To the average outsider, Johnny looked content as ever, but you and Jeno recognized him with dwindling patience. 

“This party’s getting interesting,” Jeno commented, eyes darting down the hall with interest. 

You nodded in agreement. “It’s already a step up from last year.”

There were painful flashbacks flickering behind Jeno’s eyes. “Damn right. As soon as I stepped into the lobby, all I could feel was warm air.”

You snickered. “Johnny doesn’t repeat mistakes. He hates it.”

“You really know Johnny.”

You noticed that Jeno’s eyes were already on you when you glanced up to look at him. “We dated. You know that.”

“For your mother’s sake,” Jeno replied. 

That was true. She was practically begging you to bring a guy home. Not because she was eager to have grandchildren (though the time would come where she’d start pressing you for an heir), but because having an affluent partner would make you look better, which would thus make the company look better. 

It was before Mark. The bad blood aside, he wasn’t exactly the type of person your mother approved of you being seen with. Mark was a rapper. Johnny, on the other hand, came from a lineage of prominent wealthy businessmen. 

In a weird way, it kind of made sense how the group separated. There was you, whose father was the chairman of an oil company, Jeno, whose father was the chief executive of a private equity investor, and Johnny and Jaehyun, whose mother was an entrepreneur, but Johnny was chosen to take over the business while Jaehyun was stuck with real estate. 

Then there were Mark’s friends. Chungha, who was a successful model and influencer. Yuta, a popular soccer player. And Haechan was the product of two fierce attorneys, but he obviously had no intention of following in his parents’ footsteps. 

Johnny was everything your mother wanted you to be with and to appease her, you dated him for a few months. And you were grateful. He helped you learn new things about yourself and how you navigated relationships. You were never in love with him, but you’d always love Johnny. 

Your heart still wanted Mark. You didn’t know what love was until you fell for Mark. 

“Yes. It was strictly business,” you confirmed, thinking nothing of it. This wasn’t news. Jeno knew you well enough. 

Jeno nodded in approval. “I’m gonna go take a look around the house. This is my first time coming over.”

At least you weren’t the only one. “Have fun. I’m gonna find some food. I’m hungry.”

Jeno told you that he’d see you later, then dipped. Meanwhile, you went around the corner to the dining room, finding plenty of food and wanting to dig in. You didn’t trust half of the guests here enough to eat unsupervised dishes, but unlike the previous years, you didn’t manage to sneak in a meal beforehand. 

Yuta and Haechan ironically didn’t seem to be as wary. They were sitting beside each other, chatting over their food. Out of his friends, Mark was closest with Yuta and Haechan. Their friendship was unwavering and one of the few to stand the test of time. In a way, they were like a trio of brothers. 

You subtly took glances at them. Haechan looked more buoyant and cheerful than earlier. Definitely not in the mood to poison anyone’s food. And Yuta, though you weren’t necessarily close anymore, still seemed like the Yuta you used to know. Before the incident ruined you for the worse.

Haechan couldn’t be any more different. He was the same spoiled little brat, you supposed, but he wasn’t shy about his disdain towards you. And the rest of your friends. If it weren’t for the fact that Johnny was just so goddamn likable, you were certain Haechan wouldn’t come. 

At least you weren’t on their radar for now. Neither of them seemed to be fazed by your presence. Thank god, you thought to yourself, glimpsing across the dining room. There were mistletoes hanging from here to there. You could hear typical holiday music from down the hall. 

It was a good sign at the very least. You were just paranoid and not having Mark to discreetly meet in a bathroom for a quickie forced you to confront the dark essence of these parties. With Mark, the feeling was still there, but at least you could convert it into tension of a sexual nature. 

You still remembered what it was like. Betting kisses on how many minutes of alone time you had before the others noticed you were coincidentally both missing. Those sweet nothings you’d whisper in his ear to coax him towards climax quicker. 

And they would work. Every fucking time. There was nothing like watching his face immediately tense with pleasure at those words and watching his orgasm consequently wreck through his utter being like a freight train. 

You chuckled at the thought. It was too fucking easy, but boy, Mark could fuck. 

Your thoughts wondered again. To Mark, and to Jodie. Did he fuck her, or was he merely using her as a pawn in this little game of his?

You wouldn’t be surprised. On top of his exigency for attention and demand for total adoration, Mark was fucking spiteful. He was the pettiest dude you’d ever met and would go to the ends of the earth and back simply to make a point. 

A few more glances around the dining area and you decided that there was nothing for you there, returning to the solace of Johnny’s marble kitchen. Thinking about your stupid ex made you lose your appetite. 

If you made it back home for Christmas tomorrow, there would be a full-course dinner with your relatives anyways. You used to hope that you’d be able to bring Mark to one of those holiday banquets, though you’d be delusional to think it’d be anything other than a complete fiasco. 

Hell, the only lover of yours to survive meeting your mother was Johnny, and that was because you didn’t know a single person who could possibly dislike him at all. 

To your surprise, a spine-chilling gunshot rang out somewhere down the hallway, jolting you out of your brief abstraction. 

“Fuck!” cried Johnny’s voice, startled. You knew immediately that something was wrong. Johnny, at least on the outside, was never afraid. 

Not since that night. 

You marched straight for the living room and the echoes of several pairs of hurried footsteps said that everybody was on the same page. Though you could’ve swore the gunshot came from here, when you got to the living room, everyone was there except for Johnny. 

No, Jodie wasn’t there either. You would know, because she’d be clinging to Mark’s arm right about now, like a child to their mother’s bosom in a grocery store.

Johnny stumbled out of the lounge with no apparent injuries, but an inscrutable look on his handsome face. 

Jaehyun was the first to ask, “What happened?”

“Jodie,” Johnny said emotionlessly, pointing to the lounge. “She’s dead.”

Nobody moved. You instinctively glanced to Mark, wondering what his reaction would be, but his face didn’t move a fucking inch. 

“Is that what that gunshot was for?” Yuta pressed. 

Johnny shook his head and replied, “No, the gunshot was for me. Somebody tried to shoot me from the overlook upstairs, but missed by an inch. I ran into the lounge for shelter, but found Jodie there instead.”

The bullet in the wall by a lamp was enough proof that Johnny wasn’t lying. One of his guests standing before him now tried to take him out. 

There was a familiar unsettling sensation burning through your gut like a gunshot wound to the abdomen. The room devolved into its own breed of silent chaos, but you could tell from everybody’s faces and guarded postures that the same thought was flickering behind your eyelids.

Mark finally expressed a pinch of anger in his tone, stating in confusion, “I only heard one gunshot.”

“That’s because she wasn’t shot,” Johnny replied coolly, running a hand through his hair. “She was butchered.”

Well, that sure didn’t paint a pretty picture. Just the thought of what you’d see if you walked into the lounge made you stiffen. You jotted down a mental note not to go in there unless absolutely necessary.  

You glanced up towards the overlook. It was tall and offered the perfect angle of Johnny from where you assumed he was standing, plus there was enough space between the metal bars for a bullet to fly. 

To its sides were two different hallways, both functioning as possible escape routes, but everybody got here fairly quickly. Wouldn’t anyone have noticed if someone fired a shot merely seconds before gathering here?

Your arms were folded across your chest and your face was fixed in a line to hide your fear. There was no room for it with this crowd of people. “You didn’t see anyone?”

“I looked up and they were only a sliver.”

Chungha didn’t look too happy. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“As if it’s ever that easy with us,” Jeno retorted. 

Johnny quickly shot the idea down. “Nobody’s coming in or out of my house until I know who did this. If you want to try me, be my guest.”

You weren’t keen on being cooped up in this house for only god knows how long with people who were as good as strangers (especially now that bodies were dropping), but you didn’t plan on disobeying either, even if Johnny’s threat did little to intimidate you. 

Johnny knew you. He knew you deep down. If Mark weren’t there, standing only a couple of feet shy of you, you would confidently say that he knew you better than anyone else in this room. But it was Mark who had seen all your ugly. 

Haechan irritably groaned. “Then, what’s the plan, tough guy?”

“Well, we can start with placing you all outside of the scene. What’s your alibi?” Johnny asked. 

Haechan didn’t take kindly to being accused, as evident in his tone when he hissed, “I was in the dining area with Yuta, eating. Our plates are still on the table.”

Johnny glanced at Yuta, who subsequently nodded to confirm that it was true. Plus you could still hear their chatter from around the corner when you were in the kitchen. Their alibi was rock-solid. 

“I was coming out of the downstairs bathroom when I heard the gunshot,” Jaehyun said, glimpsing around. 

Nobody countered him, and Johnny seemed to trust him, all things considered. They may not have shared blood, but they were brothers. 

You rubbed your temple. “I was in the kitchen.”

“I was in the den,” Mark claimed, holding his arm. You could see the slightest shift in his carefully constructed demeanor. “I saw Chungha coming from the back of the hall, so it wasn’t her.”

Chungha said nothing. She was warily glaring holes through the skin of everyone around her. Chungha was a sweetheart and never thought badly of you after the split-up, but she refused to let others get too close, and you honestly respected it. 

You were the same way. Skeptical of everybody that crossed your path and kept a tight-knit circle of buddies. After what’d you seen and done, there was no such thing as being too safe. 

Jeno huffed, “I was just walking around. I would’ve asked Johnny for a tour, but he was a little… preoccupied.”

Jeno didn’t elaborate and nobody asked him to, but you knew exactly what he meant, and you telepathically exchanged the same thought when you made eye contact for the briefest of seconds. It was odd that only seconds prior, Johnny and Jodie were walking together. Now Jodie was dead and somebody tried to shoot Johnny?

“Let’s not waste precious time. It’s obviously Jeno,” Haechan snapped, glare cutting through his enemy like a blade. 

Jeno frowned, offended. “Why me?”

Haechan’s face was tense with frustration. “You know why.” 

“Stop,” Johnny told them sternly, stopping the action before it could accelerate too quickly to be controlled. “We’re all adults here and we’re going to handle this like adults. If you have proof, by all means, share. If you don’t know for certain, then keep it to yourself.”

Unsatisfied, Jaehyun crossed his arms and asked, “So what now? We just continue on as if there isn’t a killer on the loose?”

“Yep.”

Jaehyun sighed in distress, but he didn’t go against Johnny. 

The eight of you separated quickly, scattering about Johnny’s large house. He seemed to be aware that nothing would happen if you all remained together. 

Getting everybody alone upped the stakes. The perpetrator would be more tempted to act. And you needed them to make a mistake. 

At least for now, you decided to remain on the first floor where you were already familiar with your surroundings. In spite of being the obvious attack zone of the killer, you were comfortable here. 

On your way out of the living room, you noticed some of the group assembling into pairs. Unsurprisingly, Johnny and Jaehyun were together. As were Haechan and Chungha. It was a powerful method, but you preferred to be alone. That way there were less distractions. 

You also had no reason to view yourself as a target, though that made you ask yourself the glaring question. Why the hell would somebody want to kill Johnny?

Ironically, the purpose of these parties was to maintain the peace. Jodie’s killer obviously had to know that killing Johnny too would’ve been quite the statement to make. 

That there was no peace when it came to the eight of you. You were composed only of death and destruction. 

You were so deep in your thoughts that you barely noticed Mark walking in front of you until you nearly crashed into him, stumbling and being caught in his open arms. “Whoa there, baby,” Mark said, holding onto you tightly. “You should really be more aware of what’s going on.”

You wrested yourself out of his hold, but in the middle of doing your damnedest to free yourself from him, your fingers accidentally traced a familiar shape in his coat pocket and you stilled in surprise. “You have a gun?”

Mark didn’t try to deny it. “Why would I go anywhere without one, baby?”

“I’m not your ‘baby,’” you hissed, stepping a comfortable distance away from him. 

Mark only hummed. His attention was on the long slit in your emerald green dress. For a second, you couldn’t believe he was blatantly checking you out, then he angled himself towards you and drew his hand to your exposed leg. 

Your eyes flitted to Mark and when his met yours, a sly little grin spread across his lips. You’d be lying if you said that his hand on your legs didn’t instinctively reactivate carnal feelings inside of you, but you dared not reveal it on your face. 

Finally, after a few seconds of scooting up your thigh, Mark found what he was looking for and purred, “Smart girl.” His hand was at your obviously occupied thigh holster, pointing out the fact that you were also armed and dangerous. “I guess this makes us even, huh?”

You didn’t realize you’d sucked in a breath. It was maddening how perfectly he knew your habits, how predictable you were. You threw his hand off and hissed, “Did you try to kill Johnny?”

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

Mark hummed, apparently believing you. Many things could be said about you depending on who you asked, but at least everybody could agree that you weren’t a killer.

You removed his hand from your thigh and straightened your posture. If the two of you had weapons, it was safe to assume that you weren’t the only ones. The gun strapped to your thigh was the only reason you weren’t totally frightened of being alone. 

Your eyes were fixed to Mark, studying him. You weren’t fond of the fact that you were met with the same level of attention, as if he was trying to make you falter under his stare. It wouldn’t be that easy. 

Breaking the silence, you told him, “I’m sorry about your piece.”

Mark didn’t look too bummed. “Didn’t care about her like that anyway.”

Yeah, that checks out. You rolled your eyes. “You never cared about anything or anyone, except for yourself.”

That response seemed to genuinely surprise Mark. “Is that what you think of me?”

You weren’t prepared to discuss your emotions with Mark and the sober part of you made the executive decision to walk away instead. The liquor had you feeling a little too honest. 

Mark, on the other hand, wasn’t done with this conversation. He grabbed your arm and demanded, “Answer me. Is that what you think of me?”

You wrested your arm out of his hold and snapped, “Just walk away, Mark. It’s what you’re good at.”

That’s rich, Mark thought, but rather than argue with you about it, he stormed off. You were unbelievable. After all he did for you, after how deeply he loved you, you seriously thought that he didn’t love you? That hurt more than he cared to admit.

You watched him walk away, bristling. It didn’t matter that he was only doing what you told him to do. He never fought for your love. He always chose himself over you. Why am I surprised?

Irritated, you made a dramatic exit of your own, wanting nothing more to do with Mark for as long as you lived. He just had to be so fucking difficult. If there wasn’t a slaughter party ongoing right now, you’d be tempted to scout for more alcohol.

At least you knew that you were right not to trust anyone. The food wasn’t spiked apparently, but your point still stood. This crowd was unpredictable and you were never truly safe together. There would always be that lingering tension in the air. 

You just wish you knew what their intent in killing Jodie and attempting to kill Johnny was. By now, you were so surrounded by death that you hardly blinked, but Jodie didn’t deserve to die. A puppet in Mark’s silly little games or not. 

As if you weren’t already totally pissed, Haechan made his way towards you and hissed, “Admit it. You’re behind all this.”

You resisted a groan and replied blandly, “I thought you said Jeno was the killer?”

“The two of you are besties. It’s not far-fetched to say that you’re in this together, all things considered.”

Rather than be offended, you were purely annoyed. You crossed your arms. “Even if that were true, that’s ridiculous. Why would I want to take out Johnny?”

“No, no, no. Johnny was Jeno’s idea. You had your eye on Jodie,” Haechan said like he had it all figured out. “I saw her corpse. The overkill? It was insane. I bet you took one look at her sucking the breath out of Mark and lost your goddamn mind.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re pulling shit out of your ass, Haechan.”

Like it was all he knew how to do, Haechan kept pushing. “Two different modus operandis usually indicate two different killers.”

“Oh, yeah? Did Daddy teach you that?” you snarled, feeling your blood pressure soaring. 

Haechan shot you a venomous glare and replied back very belligerently, “It’s not rocket science. You’re jealous. Plus you already sided with a murderer once. Why wouldn’t you do it again?”

“God, it’s been years,” you groaned, bringing your palm to your forehead. This man was a walking headache. “If you don’t like us, then fine. But that blood is on all of our hands. Pointing blood-stained fingers won’t change that.”

Haechan was practically fuming. Obviously, he didn’t like that. 

You had already started to leave, traveling a fair distance away from Haechan, but spun on your heels to give one final retort, “And for the record, Mark having Jodie tag along to make me jealous was a weak move. Tell him to try harder.”

Then, you left. You left and you didn’t look back. It was hit after hit for you, and you just couldn’t seem to catch a fucking break. Haechan literally had no reason to bother you other than to be a nuisance. His parents were lawyers. He was certain that if push came to shove, he’d have nothing to worry about. And neither would the people he cared for. 

There was no telling if you would survive the night at this point. If a bullet didn’t take your life, then stress and frustration was a sure-fire way to finish you off. 

The important question was who would be anticipating your death? 

You wanted to think that you had never been more on edge, though that would’ve been a bold-faced lie. And an insult to your body’s self-preservation effectiveness. You were far from weak and if you were intent on survival, there was nothing or nobody that would stand in your way. 

In an attempt to abate the tension, you made a beeline for the in-door elevator. Hopefully before any other unwelcome visitors could try to snake their way into your path. 

When the elevator dinged, you were surprised to see Jeno. “Where are you headed?” you asked. 

Jeno retorted, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You snickered and slipped beside him. Finally somebody whose company didn’t piss you off. “Second floor. Obviously.”

Jeno stepped out of the elevator, but extended his hand to keep the door from closing, scanning the bottom floor for other people. Apparently, there weren’t any, because he finally said, “There’s something weird going on.”

You snorted. “Other than the death and murder? Yeah, probably. Haechan accused us of being killers.”

“No, I mean…,” Jeno trailed, taking a peak across the hallway again. “What if he’s faking it?”

“Who?”

“Johnny.”

You made a face. That wasn’t something you’d even considered and you weren’t exactly convinced now that you had. “Why would he do that?”

Jeno shrugged. “Why do people kill? He was the first one to discover Jodie. And he’s the guy that hosts these parties.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty solid reason to assume he’s not the killer. He’s literally a victim. No offense, but I don’t buy that he killed Jodie then somehow had enough time to make it look like somebody fired a shot at him,” you replied. 

“I guess,” Jeno mumbled, quietening. You were about to ask why, but you clocked Jaehyun casually strolling by.

Which meant he wasn’t with Johnny. 

Jeno cocked you one final glance and said, “People always look at the guy with his hands dirty. No one ever suspects the guy with his hands behind his back.”

Then, he recouped his hand and disappeared behind the elevator doors. In a time that it took you to blink, he was gone so quickly you could’ve imagined his presence. 

And now you were thinking. If Johnny were alone, who knew what he was up to, but in the same vein, that could’ve just made him more vulnerable. 

You immediately brushed the thought aside. Johnny? Vulnerable? Pfft. This guy taught you everything you knew about how to survive and it was only thanks to his valor and self-preservation skills that you were even breathing. 

The elevator dinged again and this time the doors made a little narrow opening for you to walk through. It was your first time on the second floor of Johnny’s luxurious penthouse and the very first thing you did was monitor the new environment. 

Few people apparently. Everything just seemed so normal and there was hardly anything out of place. You could faintly hear the Christmas songs still blasting from the speakers downstairs. 

You crept just down the hall, pausing at the overlook. The place where the gunshot was fired. You gripped the rails, scanning the ground below. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Chungha sneaking about, but she was gone just as quickly. 

The killer had to have been lithe. These little metal bars were thin and did little to conceal your frame. For Johnny to have barely seen them, you could only liken them to a thief in the night.

The problem was that literally everybody fit that description. There was no person that you could rule out, because you each had the capacity. If not the motive, then the means. 

That was why you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Your lone brain couldn’t fathom the devastation plaguing this group and you decided that you wouldn’t even try. With a little breath, you turned and searched for the fitness center.

It wasn’t difficult to find. All you had to do was narrow down your options, taking peeks through windows and quickly discerning that they weren’t your final destination. After some trial and error, you found your way to the massive gym area. 

According to the sign, and a conversation you’d overheard earlier during the party (before all hell broke loose), just around the corner was a soccer simulator. 

Somebody was already inside when you pushed the door open to enter. You bashfully waved your hand. “Thought I’d find you here.”

Yuta looked surprised to see you, but he only wore it on his face for a split second. “Stalker, much?”

“Nah. I just thought, ‘if I was a famous soccer player, where would I go?’ And this was the first place that came to mind.”

Yuta snickered. “Predictable. That’s a character flaw, I guess.”

A tiny laugh escaped your lips. Honestly, you were just glad that you even felt comfortable enough to joke around with Yuta, even if it was meaningless. Haechan was praying for your downfall and Chungha didn’t socialize with outsiders, but Yuta was thankfully normal. 

He didn’t seem to mind your presence either. The large screen glaring at you in a violently blue hue was definitely on, but Yuta’s eyes appeared elsewhere. He finally said, “This gang and parties don’t mix too well, huh?”

“I think not,” you retorted, crossing your arms in amusement. Staying detached from the darkness was the only way you could stay sane. “Somebody always ends up dying at one of them.”

Yuta took a seat in a nearby chair and kicked his feet up on another one beside him pensively. “Sworn enemies with an axe to grind in the same room under the guise of ceasing rivalry one day out of the entire year. I could’ve told you guys how that was gonna end.”

I could’ve, too, you said to yourself, a billion thoughts like a downpour in your head. It was why you never left your house unarmed and hesitated to eat food you didn’t make. 

Because you were protecting yourself. Just like everybody else in this house. 

“Well, it’s not a shock,” you replied in agreement. “We do enough damage on our own, but together? It’s all we’re capable of.”

Yuta fought a frown. “I feel bad for that Jodie girl. I’m sure you’re aware Mark was definitely using her, but she didn’t deserve to be dragged into our sick hell.”

Those pictures of her slaughtered body were flickering in your head again. It haunted you, and you hadn’t even seen her corpse. “Everybody that comes near us gets burned.”

Yuta’s demeanor shifted noticeably, brooding. “I feel guilty. Yet when Johnny told us she died, all I could think was ‘at least it’s not my fault this time.’ Is that wrong?”

His sudden vulnerability surprised you, considering Yuta wasn’t the type to randomly express his feelings, much less to you. You immediately put your hand on his shoulder in comfort and said, “Doyoung’s death wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.”

Yuta shrugged. “If I had listened to my parents, if I hadn’t invited you all there, that night wouldn’t have happened. Doyoung wouldn’t be dead. And this friend group might’ve stayed in one piece.”

“Yuta, you should blame that creepy psychopathic weirdo. Not yourself.”

Yuta grimaced, as if the sole mention of that guy flung him back to a place he’d already buried. 

And you didn’t blame him. You didn’t even know the guy’s name, but you could describe him vividly. How could you not? The same pale guy in blood-stained overalls appeared in your dreams a little too often.

This little party turned bloodbath wasn’t you and your friends’ first rodeo. Matter of fact, you’d argue that the first round was a tad scarier. You still got flashbacks, so terrified for your life and everybody around you that adrenaline numbed you to the crisp, nipping autumn air. 

For his birthday prelude, Yuta invited all of you to his parents’ expensive farmhouse, sitting just on your hometown’s outskirts. It was quiet, remote. No neighbors, which seemed fun in the first half, but as the night progressed, it became a nightmare not having anyone nearby.

A birthday celebration quickly became a fight for survival, and Doyoung lost. He was one of you, still a part of you, locked away inside your heart but never forgotten.

Jeno had accidentally stabbed him with a gardening tool, thinking that he was the killer. Doyoung had come to his hiding spot desperately seeking shelter, but Jeno panickedly made a mistake that cost him his friend’s life and the trust of his others. 

That was how the friend group divided. There was the side that would never forgive him for Doyoung’s death, blaming him wholeheartedly. And then there was the side that showed him some grace. You were all frightened out of your minds that night. 

Though what Jeno did didn’t matter. You were all complicit in Doyoung’s demise, whether they wanted to admit it or not. The killer made you all finish him off, made you all bury his wounded corpse while it was still fresh. 

Your hands were still stained with dirt and blood, burning hotter every time you thought of him. 

“I blame Jeno,” Yuta seethed under his breath. 

You frowned. 

Yuta stood to his feet, unable to stay still. There was too much emotion in him now, pulling him every which way. “Every year I get whiplash from having to mourn my friend’s death anniversary then celebrate my birthday back to back. That’s unforgivable.”

Though you liked Yuta, you weren’t going to let anyone slander your best friend silently. “I understand, but it’s not just Jeno’s fault.”

Yuta chuckled. “If only you knew.”

Your brows furrowed. “What don’t I know?”

“That Jeno’s fucking obsessed with you. Always has been. We don’t hate him because he killed Doyoung. We hate him because we think he killed Doyoung for you.”

Your lips parted soundlessly, flabbergasted. 

Yuta read the confusion on your face plain as day and continued, “Think about it, sugar. Doyoung had a crush on you. That was everybody’s business. And it’s Doyoung who Jeno accidentally stabs out of all people?”

You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t like you hadn’t turned down Jeno’s advances once before, but he was so fucking chill. You could’ve forgotten that it even happened. There wasn’t a single thing in your friendship that felt out of place. 

Plus he knew firsthand that you were head over heels for Mark only, even if you didn’t want to be anymore. It was pathetic. Yuta had just told you another guy was willing to go to lethal lengths to keep you away, and yet one of your first thoughts was how painstakingly you loved Mark. 

But Mark hated you. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, the lines between fiction and reality beginning to blur. 

Yuta relaxed. He could tell there was a lot going on in your head, because he recognized the conflict akin to the one warring within himself. “It’s dead.”

You appreciated that. Fuck’s sake, Mark and his friends usually liked to push until there was nowhere else to go. And then some. Your thoughts wandered there and you opened your mouth, asking, “Why are you nice to me?”

“I’m not nice to you,” Yuta replied, making you blink. “I just treat you like a regular human being. There’s a difference.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t done anything for me not to.”

You shook your head. “Mark wouldn’t agree,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. 

Yuta glanced at you. You were letting your guard down around him, something he was certain you probably hadn’t even done with Mark tonight. “Fuck Mark. He’s been lying to himself. And to be frank, I think he’s deluded himself.”

Your eyes were cold when you looked into Yuta’s. “Elaborate.”

“I mean, he wants to convince us and the whole world that he hates you and he’s moved on, but he hasn’t even convinced himself. You were his everything, man. Mark hasn’t been the same since the breakup. I want my friend back.”

I want my lover back. But Mark used to be your friend, too. A healthy blend of friendship and romance that made your love for each other feel depthless. 

If only you knew back then that your love would be tested. Would you have still sacrificed every piece of yourself to make him happy if you knew that it still wouldn’t be enough?

“I hope you have a wonderful Christmas tomorrow,” you told Yuta after a long pause, a telltale sign that you were leaving and had no more room for conversation. 

“If I make it to tomorrow,” Yuta retorted playfully. “Likewise. Merry Christmas.”

You smiled at him on your way out in a final goodbye. You only wanted one thing for Christmas, and that was to have Mark back in your arms. Where he belonged. 

For a good minute, you meandered about the hallways, cautiously monitoring your surroundings to make sure no one was trailing you. You considered heading to the den for refuge, but Mark obviously liked it there, and you’d had enough run-ins for one night. 

Instead, you opted for the in-door pool, where obviously nobody was. In front of you stood a long line of water with a set of hot tubs off to the side. It was the perfect place to clear your head without having to constantly check if there was someone out to get you. 

Before you could slightly relax, you scanned the room and clocked two exits. If you couldn’t get out of the main exit for whatever reason, there was always the option of the backup door. With that pressure off your shoulders, you took off your heels and sank your feet in the pool. 

Dangling your feet in the water, your mind began to race, hopping from one thought to another at a pace too painful for you to keep up with. You hated being this way. Always having to keep an eye out, never fully trusting anybody. Mark was the only person that you could turn your back to and confidently believe you’d be fine. 

Once upon a time, he was your safe haven, and now you weren’t sure if you could even trust him anymore. For all you knew, he could’ve been behind all this. 

It hurt to think of what you should’ve been, of the happy, oblivious couple you were only months earlier. The couple that didn’t go to bed angry or sleep in different rooms, too stubborn to spend the night beside each other. There was no problem the two of you couldn’t sort out back then. 

You started to wonder if Yuta was right about everything he said. First of all, Jeno didn’t kill Doyoung. It wasn’t that quick. He attacked him first, but you all had Doyoung’s blood on your hands. Literally. 

You only wished you could’ve seen Yuta’s point of view. Jeno was admittedly happy when you and Mark finally broke up, though you figured it was because he didn’t want to see you suffer, not because he wanted you to be with him instead. 

Worst of all, Yuta told you that Mark still wasn’t over you. And you hated it. If you wanted Mark and Mark wanted you, then why weren’t you together?

Then, you remembered. The lack of compatibility that burned your happy home together down to a crisp. Things failed because Mark wanted to conquer. You refused to be taken. What made him feel ignored made you feel free. What made you feel inhibited made him feel secure. When he started to feel unwanted, he pushed you away. 

Your love was a slow burn till the end. All of those years of pining for each other turned into you pining away from heartbreak, eating your heart out for a boy you were destined to never have at all.

You hated knowing that you and Mark would’ve never worked out whether you dated or not. Maybe because you knew that if you didn’t have Mark, then you had no one. It simply wasn’t written in the stars. 

Mark was the only one who knew your biggest fears. Your motivations. He knew firsthand the irreversible impact Doyoung’s death had on the rest of your life, because you confided only in him about the shame. You weren’t scared of being naked with Mark. He saw the ugliest bits of you and it wasn’t what sent him running. 

It was hard to explain to anybody that wasn’t there, but nothing was the same after Doyoung died. Thanks to your parents’ status, you were already used to being careful, but it was nothing like the girl you were after fighting for survival. It was your first time fighting for anything. 

Every inch of you was alive and awake, perpetually on fight mode. Mark wasn’t just the sole place where you could exist peacefully; he understood your trauma and loved you with every fiber of his being in spite of it. 

That was why you couldn’t be with any other guy. How could you explain those nights when you woke up screaming in terror? Mark didn’t ask questions. He just held you and told you that you were safe in his arms. 

If you couldn’t have Mark, then you knew you were meant to die alone. 

The sound of a door pushing open made you immediately stand up, preparing to take off without your heels. They would only slow you down anyways. You saw Mark enter and, rather than cool down, your stiff muscles were overloaded with apprehension. 

“I have an idea and I’m prepared to argue with you about it,” were the first words to come out of Mark’s mouth, speaking before you could dare to, as if he knew you’d have something to say. 

You played it cool, though your heartbeat was harshly thudding in your ears. “What do you want now?”

Mark took your tone in stride. “We should travel in pairs. As they say, safety in numbers.”

Your face tensed in disgust. “And why in the hell would I want to travel with you?”

Mark didn’t skip a beat. “Because if I’m the killer, you’re the only one that stands a chance against me.”

You folded your arms. Mark almost grinned looking at you, but resisted. It was like your favorite pose ever. “I thought you said you didn’t kill Jodie?”

“Technically, I said that I didn’t try to kill Johnny,” Mark answered, a sly smile on his lips. “Do you trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone anymore,” you replied coolly. Not after you broke it. And me. 

“Good. You don’t trust me and I don’t trust you. We don’t have reasons to. But let’s at least be forward with our intentions here,” Mark said, stepping closer. “I intend to survive. And you?”

“I intend to survive as well,” you asserted. 

Mark added forthrightly, “And we’ll do anything to live, even if it means killing someone else for our own sake. We’re not strangers to sacrificing other people for our benefit.”

You heaved a breath and groaned impatiently, “So what? This is some truce or something?”

“Or something,” Mark replied with enough uncertainty to make you overwhelmingly suspicious. “We’d just be working together. Who says that you have to trust me?”

You hated that you were seriously considering it, but he was making a pretty decent point. It was stupid to be by yourself. You had to admit it, even as somebody that valued her independence like it was your lifeline. 

Mark recognized you in conflict with yourself, even as you tried your hardest to appear neutral. After all those years spent by each other’s side, he guessed it was simply natural. Your bottom lip stuck out, though only slightly. You were giving it your best shot at keeping composed. 

You weighed the pros and cons in your head. If you didn’t pair with Mark, you would be more vulnerable, but if you did, it would be increasingly difficult to ignore having to confront the whirlwind of feelings he left you to soak in. 

You didn’t want that, but it wasn’t like you wanted to die either. Finally, after a moment of contemplation, you relented. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Mark grinned victoriously. “Two heads are better than one.”

That was what you used to think. It used to be enough to simply look into Mark’s eyes, knowing that he was there. Now you couldn’t stand to be beside him. “Not when they’re bumping into each other,” you grumbled. 

Mark cocked a brow. “Then, let’s not make this about us. Let’s focus on survival. That’s our common interest here.”

Obviously, that was easier said than done, but you didn’t argue or complain. This was a rare moment of Mark willing to set your differences aside for a better purpose. At least for now, you intended to behave. 

Plus you wanted to see how long the two of you could go before Mark started barking. He looked sweet, but if anybody thought Mark was all sugar and rainbows, they clearly hadn’t met him. This boy was all fire. 

And you were air; gentle as a featherlight, ocean breeze, but capable of roaring like a tornado if provoked. Forceful enough to spread his flames out further, but not to blow them out. Mark was untameable. You had that in common. 

It sounded corny, but it was the truth. You bettered one another in some ways, but enabled one another in others. Your similarities seemed to work against you, neither of you wanting to set your pride aside. 

That was the problem. If you pushed, Mark pushed back harder. If Mark screamed, you screamed back louder. It was like a fucking seesaw that you couldn’t get off of. 

Rationally, an important question kept prodding at your ribcage. “How did you even find me?” you asked. 

“I had to look everywhere,” Mark said, slight exasperation in his tone. “I knew you wouldn’t be out in the open, so it was just a matter of finding out where you were hiding.”

You nodded. That would have to be a satisfactory response. You weren’t going to press him about it. “Okay, but if we’re going to be a team, we need to try and figure out who’s killing and what’s going on.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Yeah, I know. Have you been seeing anything suspicious lately? I noticed Jaehyun creeping out like he’s got something to hide.”

Your brows furrowed. “Seriously? I did too. When I was talking to Jeno in the elevator. Chungha looked a little suspicious, too.”

Mark obviously didn’t expect that. “You’re kidding. You know how Jaehyun said that he was downstairs when the gun went off?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I saw Jaehyun coming from down the hall, where I also noticed Chungha come from. She came after him, but it looked timed. Kinda like how we used to leave at different times so nobody would think we were together.”

The mention of those times sent you back, perfectly calculating the ideal time to exit the same room without raising suspicions amongst your friends and foes. 

Bidding the thoughts to go away, you quickly recovered, mentioning, “That’s odd. I don’t know if it’s connected, but earlier when I was talking to Jaehyun, he excused himself to go upstairs.”

“Before the gun went off?” Mark asked, skeptical. 

You leaned down to fix the strap of your heel, which you’d slipped back on after you realized the intruder was only Mark, discerning that he was no threat. “Yeah, somebody texted him. From the face he was making, it looked urgent. I just assumed one of his relatives messaged him and he went to god knows where upstairs to take a call.” 

Mark shook his head in disapproval. Disappointment, maybe. “They’re in cahoots, that’s for sure.”

You pressed, “But why in the hell would Jaehyun and Chungha be working together? They’re not even on the same side.”

“Motives to kill,” Mark sighed, face twisted cutely in thought. It was so stressful pretending that you weren’t attracted to every little thing he did. His eyes widened a little and he said, “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“It’s common knowledge that when Johnny’s mom died, she left him to take over the family business, while Jaehyun got stuck with real estate…,” Mark trailed.

You quickly noticed where this was going and added, “Jaehyun always wanted to be the chief executive. Ever since we were teenagers, it was all he talked about.”

Mark tapped his chin. “I still remember what it was like. I couldn’t tell if he was more depressed about his stepmother dying, or not inheriting her multimillion dollar business.”

“You think he’s still holding that grudge?”

Mark shrugged. “Who knows?”

You subconsciously scratched your forearm. You didn’t realize, but Mark did. It was something you often did when you were anxious, which was basically all of the time. “Chungha’s been paying an awful lot of attention to Johnny’s jewelry case.”

“She likes anything bright and shiny,” Mark responded, thinking nothing of it. “Why? You think she stole something?”

You shrugged your shoulders and replied, “I think anything’s possible, but I don’t think it’s worth killing over. I mean, she’s not just rich. She’s wealthy. She can afford her own diamonds.”

Trying to figure those two out was like attempting to unravel the identity of Jack the Ripper. Jaehyun was composed and Chungha was vigilant. Their guarded natures combined made them both mysterious and lethal. 

Mark couldn’t wrap his head around it, either. But he was certain that those two were up to no good. “Well, we’ve got their motives. Let’s try to think of the others.”

“Johnny told me he and Haechan got into an argument before the party. He looked pretty pissed earlier,” you recalled. 

“Yeah, I picked up on that, too,” Mark said. When a guy who sent earthquakes wherever he went was agitated, it was impossible for the whole world not to notice. 

“Speaking of holding grudges,” you started, gathering any pieces you could find and linking them with each other. “Johnny left Yuta at that shack and because of it he got an injury that almost cost him soccer.”

Mark didn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, but Yuta’s been playing soccer just fine for years now. Plus he told Johnny to leave to find that weapon.”

“The reasoning doesn’t have to make sense to anybody but the killer.”

Mark was silent for a long time, cautiously contemplating. “What about Jeno?”

You were irked at the mention of your best friend, but knew that nobody was totally off the table. Not even yourself. You played innocent. “What about him?”

Mark exhaled a breath, but laughed. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re playing dumb, or if you’ve truly never noticed how much Jeno’s into you. You can’t seriously think him attacking Doyoung was an accident.”

Yuta had already brought you up to speed on the whole jealousy killer Jeno theory between Mark and his pals, which you were none too convinced about. “If Jeno’s the killer, I don’t understand what he’d get out of killing Johnny or Jodie. By your logic, that means you should be dead. Not your girlfriend.”

“Maybe Johnny likes you.”

“Ignoring the ridiculousness of that statement…” 

Mark interjected before you could continue, “Is it so ridiculous? You and Johnny dated, and it was your decision to break things off. You were never in love with him, but have you ever considered that maybe Johnny loved you?”

You hadn’t really considered it, you always assumed Johnny knew he was doing you a favor and it was nothing more or less, but that didn’t stop you from snapping, “Jeno knows where I stand with Johnny. That I was never in love with him. Why would he kill a man that isn’t a threat?”

“Did you like Doyoung back?”

“No,” you hissed. 

Mark shot, “And you don’t see him walking around here, do you? You said it yourself: the reasoning doesn’t have to make sense to anybody but the killer.”

“I think that says more about the faultiness of your theory than mine.”

Mark opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him get a word in. 

You sneered, “And are you seriously going to ignore the fact that Jodie was killed? Carved out like a pumpkin. That sounds like something only somebody with a lot of rage for her would do.”

Mark was losing patience, you could tell from the look on his face. “Are you implying that I killed her?”

“I’m not implying a damn thing. But you were pretty nonchalant over the fact that you got an innocent girl killed,” you replied, definitely insinuating that he was responsible. “Outside of being tainted by your touch, that is.”

“Maybe you did it,” Mark snapped. 

You rolled your eyes. This was the second time you’d gotten this accusation today and you weren’t keen on hearing it again, but Mark was already yapping before you could tell him not to bother. 

“You couldn’t stand to see me with a girl that wasn’t you,” he said, a turmoil of wildfire dancing in his pupils. “So you got rid of her.”

You threw your head back and grunted, “Oh, fuck’s sake. Get over yourself.”

“Get over me,” Mark hissed. “We’ve been over for months. It was never gonna work, you know? Everything’s sunshine and rainbows during the honeymoon phase.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed, turning away and heading for the door. You didn’t know why you thought he was capable of having a civil conversation with you. So much for not making this about us. 

Mark grabbed your arm, glaring at you in disapproval. “I’m sorry, was this too much pressure for you? You couldn’t handle the heat and now you’re walking away again?”

You screamed, “You pushed me away!”

“Because you pushed me first,” Mark yelled, matching your energy. Matter of fact, what you gave, he doubled it and handed it back tenfold. And vice versa. 

Running your hands down your face, you wanted to scratch your skin off with your nails. “Dude. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all those times you made me feel like you didn’t want me. All those times you left me alone without a reason why. You got so distant on me, baby. Really had me wondering if there was somebody else.”

Somebody else? You couldn’t believe he was serious. Your heart would never want anybody that wasn’t Mark, because she knew he was the only one that could satisfy her. 

Your face softened for a fraction of a second. “All I wanted was you.”

“You sure had a funny way of showing it,” Mark grumbled under his breath. 

Guilt flickered in your eyes, stinging them to crystals, but you didn’t let them fall. “I needed space. I liked being with you, but not at the expense of losing touch with my soul. I needed room to breathe.”

Mark frowned. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

You asked just as quickly, “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“It felt like a waste of time. I thought you already decided that you didn’t want me. That you were just another girl who underestimated how much attention I need.”

“Wow,” you mumbled quietly. Amused, but angry. “You fight, but for all the wrong reasons.”

Mark’s eyes flitted towards yours. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you wouldn’t fight for us to stay together, but you’ll shout in my face at literally any other given opportunity.”

Mark reined in his head, running his hands through his hair. “Listen, I’m no good at this relationship stuff.”

“I know.”

That made Mark bristle. It wasn’t just his fault, but you refused to hold yourself accountable. “You’re no expert, either.”

“I know,” you sighed, lips curled into a frown. 

Mark’s eyes flickered. 

It appeared you were finally realizing how egregiously the two of you had mutually fucked up. “We didn’t talk. And that was okay. Our problems were small enough that after we climbed into bed with each other they were long forgotten. But then they got bigger and we didn’t know what to do, other than what we’d always done.”

Mark scratched the back of his head. “But it didn’t work. The problem was still there.”

Part of the reason why you two never worked through the issue was because you failed to specifically identify the problem. Mark didn’t just want to be loved, he demanded it. And he did it by completely seizing power over your mind, body, and soul. 

Your mind in life. Your body in bed. Your soul in everything in between. 

You didn’t like to feel dominated in that way. It made you dig into your heels. Letting Mark exercise this assertive power over you, letting him have control over the tiniest piece of you that was left, it felt like a betrayal. To yourself, and to the dead.

Because you were still clinging to that girl. That girl whose hands were clear of blood and didn’t spend hours scrubbing under her nails away a stain that wasn’t really there. The girl who didn’t take that final blow to her friend’s chest and watch the light in his eyes dim until he was gone. 

It was cruel and unforgivable, but even with the hurt on Doyoung’s face, there was an understanding twinkle in his eyes. You’d seen it, for a tiny fraction of a second. Or maybe you imagined it so that it would be simpler to live with the crippling guilt. 

You were the girl he loved and the last thing he saw. Every anniversary, you swore one of the stars in the sky twinkled brighter. 

I didn’t have a choice; it was him, or all of us. What was my other option? Plus he was going to die either way. The police didn’t arrive on scene until dawn. He would have bled to his death if we didn’t finish him off. 

Mark knew he was high-maintenance and he knew the toll Doyoung’s death had on you, but he somehow never exactly pieced together how it would impact your relationship. That there would be days where you didn’t want hugs or kisses. You just wanted to be left alone.

Plus Mark was so sympathetic about everything you went through and all of your feelings to the point you assumed he would just know you needed space. Somehow you had mistaken his understandingness for being a mind reader. 

And Mark, somewhere along the line, sensed you drifting away, so he discarded you first. Mark didn’t get abandoned. It wasn’t in his nature to stick around when he knew he was on the brink of being cast aside, left high and dry. 

He wanted to be loved, but he wanted to love himself. And he was not against hurting himself, because the pain was easier to cope with than if he let somebody else hurt him.

At least he thought it would be. 

“We couldn’t just fuck and make up anymore, so we started to argue over petty things, and we never got to the core of the matter,” you said, picturing yourself back in that living room, shouting. 

Mark remembered, because it was all he’d been thinking about for months, asking himself what was the final blow in spite of being aware that he was the one who chose to break up. “Pillowtalk was the only time we really discussed our emotions. Remember?”

God, how could you not? This boy would fuck the shit out of you then snuggle you to sleep immediately after, chatting about anything under the sun (or moon) until your eyelids got too heavy and started to flutter closed. 

You simply nodded your head, unable to open your mouth. Though you both were being vulnerable, you were afraid of what you might’ve said. 

Mark chuckled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I always had these doubts about you, to be honest. You were too good to be true. Most girls get tired of me after a minute so I never stay too long, but you’ve been in my life since we were kids.”

Your eyes were sad when you glanced into his. “So why did you leave me? Why didn’t you fight?”

Mark’s eyes twinkled with regret as he whispered, “I was scared of being abandoned by the girl I loved. So I dipped. I ran before you could tell me that it was over. It gave me some kind of agency over my heartbreak.”

You laughed in disbelief. This breakup was so dramatic, and for what? “In hindsight, we’re just a pair of fucking idiots,” you said, shaking your head in disapproval. “Imagine if we just talked about this months ago. It could’ve all been so simple.”

Mark hung his head in shame, resting his hand at his nape. It would’ve spared him some pain. And so many tears. 

“I’ve spent months thinking that I don’t deserve love because of what I did that night. Because if I can’t have you, Mark, then there’s nobody else out there for me,” you told him, releasing the words you’d been holding back for eons. 

Mark blinked, processing. Then, deciding he was short of words, he said, “I’m done talking,” and smashed his lips against yours. You were surprised, but immediately molded your lips into his, feeling his hands instinctively get a hold of your hips. 

It had been a lifetime since you’d last felt his touch on your skin and to say you missed it would be an understatement. Your body felt like it was being reawakened, dormant sensations coming back to life again. 

Two star-crossed lovers, discreetly meeting each other for one final rendezvous before your individual lives inevitably drove a wedge between your passionate sparks. That, or death. For now, you were content to be in each other’s hold, kissing like it was the last time. 

As your bodies swung in each other’s embrace, you noticed Mark’s feet dancing dangerously close to the edge of the pool. “Careful,” you warned, shuffling him out of the way. “Don’t want your flames to get doused.”

Mark snickered. “Please, baby. I have enough fire for the both of us.”

“I know you do. That’s what I love about you.”

Mark’s ears perked up at that. You loved him? You didn’t know how long he had been waiting to hear you say that. And it made him remember what you told him only moments ago before his brain went blank. “I love you. Don’t ever think that you don’t deserve to be loved.”

Your chest filled with warmth, but you purred, “Or else what?”

Leaning into you, Mark nibbled at your ear a little before whispering, “Or else I’ll have to show you how much you mean to me.”

It was difficult to play nonchalant. Your heart was skipping beats now. You wanted Mark desperately and it drove you to the brink of insanity. “Oh, no. I’m so afraid.”

Mark grinned, dragged you away to a padded chaise. 

You sat there, your entire body excited, but your brain (at least for now) was still capable of thinking rationally and you asked, “Are we seriously about to fuck in a pool chair?”

“We’ve fucked in worse places and done even worse things,” Mark replied offhandedly, thinking about nothing but getting his hands on those pretty thighs of yours. 

You pressed your lips together, aware that you had little to zero grounds for argument. Bathrooms weren’t even anywhere close to the most outlandish location you and Mark had decided would be an apt backdrop for sexual intercourse. Those places were unspeakable. 

Mark took your silence as a victory and whispered silkily, “Sit back and relax, baby.”

You giggled. Mark had never left you unsatisfied. A time with this boy’s head between your legs was guaranteed to be a sacrilegiously fulfilling experience. 

Mark grabbed your left leg, draping it over the side of the chair so that he wouldn’t have to literally bend over backwards to go down on you, and when he noticed the gun poking out of your thigh holster, he laughed. “With your permission, I wanna take your gun. If it makes you feel better, I’ll set mine aside, too.”

You let him take your gun and disarm the weapon before setting it on a poolside table wedged between the chaise you were currently occupying and another. If this was some ruse to get you unarmed, Mark was simply stupid. He would’ve had way better opportunities moments prior. 

But it wasn’t. Mark was tugging your panties down your ankles, something you were certain he wouldn’t bother to do if he had murder on his mind. You usually felt naked when you were bare of a weapon, but something about Mark naturally made you relax. 

Your dress rode up above your hips, giving him complete access to your dripping pussy. Just thinking about what he was about to do to you, you swore, breathing became the most difficult chore. 

Mark took one fucking glimpse at your glistening pussy and almost howled like a goddamn wolf. Instead, the sound that emerged from the back of his throat was identical, animalistic and ravenous as if he couldn’t wait to dig into a full course. 

The comparison wasn’t far off, because as soon as he stopped staring hungrily at you in a way that made you shift, slightly self-conscious, his calloused palms were clasping your thighs tightly and his mouth was flush against your throbbing core. 

“Jesus. Fuck,” you moaned, thighs tensing already. And he just started. To be fair, it had been a couple of months since anybody’s hands - or mouth - had touched you there. You had been unable to give yourself to anybody that wasn’t Mark, which you felt like a total fool for when you saw him boo’d up with Jodie. 

And yet here you were, still letting him have his way with you, giving him the power to break you down and build you back up as he pleased. Your breaths were quick, your lips parting in a shaky exhale at every pass of his tongue against your glistening folds. 

It reminded him of the past couple of years, sneaking around to fuck in the most isolated location you could possibly find. All of those times he mounted you on a fancy bathroom counter to get his head between your thighs, or fucked you there so hard the mirrors clouded. 

All Mark knew was sex and destruction, and half of the time, those things came hand in hand. For a minute, he was more than that with you. Until you were gone and he knew he was at least partly to blame. He wanted to prove to you that he was more than your reckless lover. 

Though that would have to be put on hold. As of right now, his intentions consisted only of wrecking you.

“God, I missed the way you taste,” Mark grumbled with a mouthful of pussy. 

His voice was deep and handsome, and so sexy that you likely could’ve nutted then and there, too aroused to keep a rein on yourself. Mark had that effect on you and the worst part was that he knew it. Sex used to be a game of seduction, teasing each other for hours to see who would break first. 

Of course, you folded the better half of the time. Mark had fucking cheat codes. This boy knew your every weakness and used them to his advantage. The hell were you supposed to do when he made you watch recordings of the previous times he’d pleasured you? Not kiss the very ground that he walked on? 

Pfft. Yeah, right. Though you never went down without stating in defense, “You cheated!”

Oh, fuck Mark. He just had to be so good with his hands. And a pleaser. 

You always got your lick back, though. Mark may have won in the first half, but you knew exactly how to take him down. First, you had to make him think that he’d already won. Then, you had to return the favor, making him swear he saw stars. That was how you kept the balance. 

Mark’s tongue was expertly navigating your clit and you wanted to be mad at it, but all you could bring yourself to do was writhe in the gray chaise. Had not his hands been locking your thighs in place, you would’ve snapped them closed in sensitivity. Mark was not to be underestimated. This boy was way stronger than he seemed. 

You resigned yourself to the fact that your only option was to lie there and take it all. There was nowhere for you to escape. When it felt too good, it was a telltale warning that Mark would seize control of your whole body, and you were torn between fleeing and letting him have it. 

“Don’t try to run away from it, baby,” he whispered knowingly, though he knew you couldn’t resist the temptation of the satisfaction you were promised. “I’ve got you.”

You rolled your hips into his face in a hurried pursuit for relief, desperately wishing you had something to anchor yourself with and lower you back down to earth, but Mark had brought you to a constantly ascending high. 

Mark chuckled, because he knew he had your body down to a science. If you thought it couldn’t get anymore dangerously intense than this, you were wrong as hell and had another thing coming. Mark released one of your thighs, gathering your arousal on his sticky fingers, and fucked it right back into you. 

You gawked. You almost couldn’t believe he was making a mess out of you like this, but then you remembered that he was Mark fucking Lee. Taking your breath was what he did best. His mouth was still on you, sucking and licking, because you were the closest thing to heaven he would ever know and he couldn’t get enough. 

All the while, he thumbed your clit, making a tremble roar through your utter being and your toes clench, tucking into themselves. 

“I’m so close,” you whimpered in the tiniest voice. 

“I know,” Mark replied, pulling back. “What did you think I was doing all the extra shit for?”

You winced your eyes closed and heaved the thickest breath, attempting to regain control over your body, but to absolutely no avail. That was when you came to terms with your fate. Mark was going to finish you off. 

“You know what I want. Let go for me,” Mark whispered darkly. “Do it on my fingers.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” you chanted, feeling something tense in your belly. The pleasure blending with the yearning created a sensation unlike any other. Your whole figure was engulfed in flames, scorching you from head to doe. 

It was closing in. You could feel sin’s darkly cloaked hand reeling you in, pulling you closer and closer, and closer to the jagged edge. There was no point in struggling; you were in nature’s grasp now and whatever happened was entirely up to her. 

As someone who prided himself on his ability to please, Mark took great delight in pleasuring you and it was no shock that he knew exactly how to coax you towards climax. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let it all go. I’ve got you.”

Finally, you started to cum, ecstasy shooting through your body every which way in the form of uncontrollable warmth, making your head feel light and your toes curl. Mark’s encouraging words became static to your ears, your senses totally overpowered, the life leaving your body for all but a split second. 

Mark was sporting the slyest of grins, watching you wind back down as if he was marveling at his own handiwork. You should’ve been singing his praises, applauding him for his grand efforts. “There you go. Good fucking girl.”

Sex was one of the most powerful weapons in Mark’s arsenal. He sucked at relationships, but he could only walk away after claiming the best nut of your life. 

After a moment or two out of the atmosphere, you came back to the ground, having just stopped tightening around Mark’s digits and shuddering involuntarily. You raised your eyes to meet his own, chest undulating. Gripping the arms of the chair for dear life. “Fuck you. You are the devil.”

Mark snickered, reluctantly recouping his fingers from between your legs. “Oh, yeah, baby. Fuck. I always loved that dirty mouth of yours.”

You rolled your eyes. He must’ve forgotten how good you were at taking back everything he stole from you and giving him damage tenfold in retaliation. Those sets of expletives would be escaping his pretty pink lips any minute now. This was only the beginning of the end. 

Throwing your leg back down, you climbed out of the chaise, standing to your feet with a little stumble. 

“Whoa there, baby. Be careful,” Mark said, grabbing a hold of your wobbling frame and holding you flush against his chest. “I’d hate it if something bad happened to you.”

God, you were weak in the fucking knees for this man. Literally. 

You grabbed Mark by his suit tie and pushed him back first onto the chaise. His eyes went wide in surprise, but he quickly recovered and grinned. “Damn, babe. I like where this is going.”

You chuckled, crawling on top of him and pulling his face into yours. Mark’s hands were below your ribs, holding you in his arms while the two of you made out for what felt like an eternity. In the best way ever. 

Mark grunted none too quietly when you felt his tight bulge pressed sharply to your core and mischievously got the clever idea to grind against it. The sound had you throbbing again, desperate to mount his cock then and there, but you were bent on teasing him at your own expense. 

The wet smack of your lips meeting only enhanced your arousal further and while you did a significantly better job at keeping composed, Mark was losing his mind by the minute. 

His hands dropped from your skin to his pants in an attempt to free his aching cock, but you were quicker, gathering his wrists in your palms and pinning them over his head. “Mm-mm. My turn, baby. Just… sit back and relax,” you mimicked, refusing to let him take the wheel. 

Mark let you have your way with him. Frankly, he would let you do whatever you pleased. 

You did the honor of unfastening Mark’s pants, pulling them and his underwear down his thighs just enough for his stiff cock to spring to attention. You licked your lips, salivating. The tension in your core got even tighter. 

Mark groaned when you pressed your lips to the head of his cock, kissing it tenderly. That understanding, patient guy was nowhere to be found when his dick was involved. Or at least when he wasn’t the giver. Instead, Mark was less than human, a voracious beast that longed to feed. 

Your tender kisses became delicate licks, neither of which provided Mark very much relief and you were aware. “Fuck. Baby,” he called out to you, hopeful that you’d quit the games soon. “Do something.”

“Something like… this?” you asked, gripping his hard cock and pumping him in your fist. Then, seconds later, you sucked him into your mouth, making all of the air flee Mark’s lungs. 

Mark immediately cursed loudly. His cock hadn’t known this amount of relief since he left you and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Little did you know, Mark hadn’t fucked anyone else since you, either. It would’ve felt like cheating, like a betrayal, even though he knew that you were over. 

Probably why Jodie had been throwing herself onto Johnny, hoping to get some dick, because the boy that brought her there only wanted to kiss her when you were there. 

“Fuck,” Mark groaned like it was the only word he knew. It probably was, all things considered. It wasn’t uncommon for his mind to go blank when your lips were airtight around his cock. His whole body shuddered in sensitivity, having been aroused since he started eating you out. 

And you were just sitting there, straddling him like a little devil, doing things to his cock that had him rethinking his whole life. Nobody had ever riled him up like this. Nobody instinctively knew how to get him off this quickly. Nobody, but you. 

Mark was looking at you with a certain darkness when he somehow summoned enough willpower to ask, “Don’t finish me yet. Please.”

You came up for air, but obeyed his request. You were well aware that you could finish him both ways, but there was no way of knowing how much time you had left before something inevitably demanded your attention, and you wanted to ride him so badly it made your head spin. 

Mark could finally breathe, but he should’ve known that it would’ve been short-lived. You didn’t waste a second to grab his cock and mount him, slowly but certainly sinking down to take it all. 

Your wet walls were quick to clamp down on his thick cock, drawing a deep, low swear out of Mark’s lips. Your nails gripped his shoulders for purchase, eyes winced closed, taking a minute to relish in the feeling of being full again contentedly. 

“Mark,” you whimpered, feeling yourself throb and tighten. You could’ve cried at the relief, so thrilled to be as close to Mark as your bodies could physically be again, and selfishly still aching for more. 

Mark blinked through the haze in his mind that you had single-handedly constructed, thrown back into the mist the second he heard you call out his name. His eyes closed, mind flickering with images of you, recalling all of those times you rode the soul out of his dick. 

You were an ethereal seductress, Mark was convinced, deceptively leading him to peril, rendering him helpless at the mercy of your enchanting charms. Your body did unspeakable things to him. With how tight you were around his cock, Mark would follow you to his demise. 

Was it fucked up to have sex while people were dying all around you? Yes. But that’s what you and Mark were. Two fucked up kids who never got healing.  

You felt healed when you were with each other, stripped to your truest forms, without fear of judgment. Mark taught you how to let go. You taught Mark how to let himself be loved. 

At least you made up before you fucked. In your opinion? That was progress. 

“Fuck, you ride me so good. I swear, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” Mark said, obsessed with your every motion as you rocked your hips down onto his cock, resuscitating all of those carnal sensations you woke up inside his soul. 

The best I’ve ever had. Your mind was spiraling, faint from the heat burning your bodies up a thousand degrees hotter. Your body was built to take him, or at least it felt that way. Like the satisfaction you got from each other could only exist between the two of you. 

Again, you grabbed Mark by his tie, pulling him in for another heart-stopping kiss. There was no hesitation. He kissed you back devilishly, getting a hold of your waist tightly, sucking on your tongue without bothering to be clean or slow about it. 

You could kiss Mark until the day you died. You never wanted to forget how he tasted in your mouth. How he felt pressed flush against your semi-naked skin, your soft lips. How he looked at you like you were the only woman he’d ever loved, ruined for any other girl.

Mark wanted to complain when you parted from his lips, but suddenly they were on his neck and he sensed a shiver run down his spine, shock and pleasure taking the sound before it dared to leave his mouth. Your teeth grazed his collarbone, finding his pulse and sucking at it. 

You watched Mark melt on the spot and giggled. Your friends and his friends were definitely going to clock the bright red marks on his throat, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. If you wanted to suck and nibble at his neck, then by all means, Mark would let you do whatever you wanted. 

Mark’s guttural groans were your greatest vice, making you noticeably throb around him, which thus only yanked a mouth-watering hiss out of his lips. He was looking at you through fluttering eyes, the corners of his vision dark and reeling, watching you ruin him from below. 

To be fair, you already ruined him. All those days Mark spent waiting for you, waiting to hold you, were days of complete and total annihilation. Not only the ones after the breakup, but before it. Those days where he only watched you from afar, dwelling on you. Pining for you. 

You separated from his neck to say, “God fucking damn. I love your dick. I love the way you feel inside me.”

As if Mark wasn’t already fighting off his looking orgasm. “Yeah?”

“No one will ever feel as good as you. I just wanna keep you close to me like this, Mark. Forever. I don’t want anything to come between us ever again and I won’t let it.”

“Me, too,” Mark wheezed, his breaths barely enough to keep him alive, though he didn’t mind it because he had you. You were on top of him, killing him softly and giving him life all at the same time, and it was more than he could handle. 

You could tell from his tone of voice that he was dangling over the edge and was attempting to stave off his impending orgasm, holding himself at bay. Mark didn’t want this to end so soon. You just came back into his life and he wasn’t keen on letting go of those endorphins. 

It wasn’t like you were far from release yourself. You couldn’t resist it, not when Mark kept making those sexy fucking sounds and your bodies were exchanging warmth. You couldn’t wait to take him to bed properly, bones tensing with the very desire to do things to him that you sadly couldn’t do here. 

Mark felt the same way. He wished your clothes were completely off, but this would have to suffice for now and that was fine. This was enough to kill any man. Your soft sighs as you rolled your perfect hips, your bodies skin to skin, directly absorbing everything you did to each other. 

You were too good to be true, as Mark said. He oftentimes thought he was dreaming. It was unbelievable that a girl of your caliber could love him through each of his many flaws and proudly stake her claim to him, and in a way, that was what you were doing now. Telling the whole universe that you were Mark’s and you didn’t give a fuck who saw. 

Mark’s eyes tightened closed. You were making short work of him and he was minutes away from coming undone. Maybe seconds. 

Taking one look at you Mark was both relieved and shattered out of his goddamn mind. For one, you were obviously also standing at the very threshold of climax, though he could’ve pieced that together from how vigorously you were riding him. To say the least. 

But for two, you looked bewitching as hell with your face tensed in pleasure, and it was making the blood rush to Mark’s cock. 

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” Mark cursed, because they were the only words that would come to his head, other than the occasional, “Jesus Christ.” It was safe to say that you had him right where you wanted him; so far over the edge that there was no returning. No going back. 

You moaned his name, preparing to take him there. Mark was already gone. He blew his long blond hair out of his face so that he could take a better look at you, going to town like no other before you. 

Mark hoped that you wouldn’t finish him earlier than he needed, that you wouldn’t pull out all of your priceless tricks, but he would’ve been naive to truly believe that you would let him off that easily. No, you wanted to wreck him thoroughly. The same way that he had wrecked you. 

At long last it was time to reap what he’d sowed. And you absolutely did not intend to show him any mercy. You wanted to see him at his worst. 

Finally, you leaned into Mark’s ear like he feared that you would, whispering in the velvetest voice you could, “Come on, baby. I know that you’re close. Don’t you wanna finish inside me?”

You hit the jackpot. Mark’s brain faltered at the thought of releasing his load inches deep inside of you, imagining the sated noise that you would make when you sensed him empty his balls inside of you. “Fuck.” The temptation burned hotter than before, sending tingles through his limbs. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you told Mark in a shockingly level voice, though he could still hear a slight tremble in your tone. “And I want you to cum with me. Please?”

Mark bobbed his head. You were so deep in his head that he would do whatever you wanted, no matter how insane the request. Plus that sweet tone you were using on him was getting under his skin, making his face strain. 

You quickened your pace, pulling out all of the stops to get him to finish, knowing he was weak and defenseless against your methods. Mark started to shudder and it became obvious that his fight was over. It was a telltale hint. You were going to get him off. 

And then it hit him. It sped into him like a semi-truck on the interstate, a head-on collision that burst into an uncontrollable path of fire, setting him off. Mark cursed in the lowest tone he could make as he finally orgasmed, a steadfast grip on your hips. 

His hips bucked up into yours as he rode out his high, releasing every drop of semen into your hot vice-like pussy. You moaned like he knew you  would at the sensation, trembling with your second release, nails digging into his shoulders that were (thank fuck) safeguarded by his suit. 

After all was said and done, you collapsed onto his chest, panting for breath. Mark took a few blinks to try and clear the misty look out of his eyes. They were dark and soulless, thanks to you. For half a minute, he swore he couldn’t barely see a damn thing. 

Neither of you wanted to move for the longest time. You desperately wanted to remain there in Mark’s arms and he was content with just holding you there. Though in favor of looking presentable lest somebody caught you, you forced yourself to come up off his softening cock, grabbing a pool towel to clean up your mess. 

Mark stubbornly fixed his clothes, though with the look on his face, all you could liken him to was a heartbroken puppy that nobody wanted to play with. “Dude. It’s already over.”

You checked your phone and chuckled, “Mark, it’s been like an hour.”

Right as you were about to set your phone back down on the poolside table, it vibrated in your hand, your screen flashing brightly. You glanced at it again, noticing a message from Johnny. Living room. Now. 

You noticed Mark’s phone had also pinged when you flitted your gaze to him. “Johnny?”

“Yup,” Mark replied, suspicious. “What do you think? Set up?”

You huffed, “A hell of a smart one. Even if it is, we’ve got to go check it out.”

“Yeah, but I just wanna go home with you,” Mark grumbled under his breath. 

You frowned, patting his back. This night would be over eventually, whether the daylight came first or Johnny ceasing it brought it on. 

Mark stepped back, letting you tug your dress back down. You were wearing your thinking face again so it came to him as no shock when you asked, “Who do you think did it?”

“I don’t know. We’re all capable of the unspeakable.”

“That’s what scares me,” you whispered. 

Mark’s lips made a line. 

The two of you grabbed your weapons, tucking them back into their hiding spots. After making sure you looked presentable, you and Mark emerged from the pool area, not bothering to look like you weren’t together or you still loathed each other. 

You loved Mark and Mark loved you. Why should you hide? 

To your misfortune, you and Mark were the last to arrive, which inevitably gathered unwanted attention. Your attention, however, was on the gash on Jeno’s arm, and you came up to him to ask fretfully, “What the hell happened?”

“While you and Mark were obviously busy making babies, somebody attacked Jeno. At least we know it wasn’t you two,” Haechan said, the perfect balance of sweetness and venom in his tone. 

Johnny glared, but continued, “That, and I noticed something from my case was missing. My mother’s necklace was stolen.”

You and Mark knowingly glanced at each other. It was you that said, “Well, I’m not saying she did it, but Chungha’s been paying very close attention to your case lately.”

Jeno hissed, “Is that what you’re worried about right now? I need a doctor! Johnny, you can’t possibly think we’re staying here all fucking night so that you can play Benoit Blanc.”

“First of all, I didn’t steal anything. If I wanted something, I would just ask. But your mother’s necklace? Johnny, I’m your friend,” Chungha replied as if it was the most absurd accusation ever. 

Johnny hadn’t smiled in so long it was starting to become terrifying. And you honestly couldn’t blame him. First somebody tried to kill him, and now his dead mother’s necklace was stolen? You’d go ballistic, but Johnny was relatively level when he said, “I consider you all my friends. And yet one of you tried to shoot me dead.”

Chunga said nothing. Her lips were in a frown. 

“So we’re just going to ignore me?” Jeno asked bitterly. 

“It’s a light gash, not a bullet wound. If you don’t get an infection, you will be fine,” Jaehyun told him coolly. 

Jeno grumbled something under his breath incoherently. 

You patted his back compassionately. There was a lot going on and it was hard to divide your attention between Jeno’s cut and Johnny’s stolen items. “I don’t understand the purpose of this meeting. Awareness? What are we doing to figure out who’s behind all this bullshit?”

Jeno hummed in agreement. 

“I don’t understand the purpose of these parties,” Haechan huffed exasperatedly. “Nevermind. Yes, I do. I know exactly why we come together every fucking year. We don’t see each other to ‘keep the peace’ or ‘remember Doyoung.’ We do it to forget. Forget what happened.”

Johnny opened his mouth to say something, but Haechan didn’t let him. And for once, you weren’t complaining. 

Haechan glanced at Johnny’s glaring face and said, “Don’t look at me like that, man. We’ve all been thinking it. I’m just the only one with enough courage to admit it. We all committed a sin. Now that we have our fancy public lives, we wanna make sure the truth stays dead and buried.”

You glanced to your feet as Haechan went on this little tangent of his. It was supposed to make you uncomfortable. How could you live comfortably with what you’d done?

"Each of you come here to save your own fucking asses, because if the media finds out that you're killers, it makes Mom and Dad look bad. That's it. That's the purpose," he ranted, ending his tirade bluntly. 

Well, he sure didn't beat around the bush. But that was the Haechan that you'd always known, confident and outspoken. To his right, Yuta was standing there, nodding along at everything he said in approval.

Jeno clapped his hands together. "You know what? I can't stand this guy, but round of applause. He's right."

You couldn’t argue even if you’d wanted to. After graduation, the group was indefinitely separated into pieces, but the eight of you agreed to never speak of what happened again. Of course, all of you went on to have successful careers, mostly because of who your parents were. 

Mark was the only exception. Your relationship wasn’t only private to your friends, but to the whole world. And for a weird reason. In spite of his affluence, your mother would have a heart attack if she knew you were dating somebody that wasn’t born into his wealth. 

Once upon a time, Mark Lee was a regular boy from Toronto. Somebody you vouched for and let into your circle, assuring him your friends weren’t just stuck-up rich kids. And he happened to make a killing doing something he loved. 

You wished you could say the same. 

Johnny said nothing for a long time, standing there with his hands posed behind his frame, which made you question him. It made you recall what Jeno had told you in that elevator a couple of hours earlier. People always look at the guy with his hands dirty. No one ever suspects the guy with his hands behind his back.

You glanced at the boy you were holding. Jeno noticed, peering back at you, but there was something different about his stare. Like there was something paining him. Then again, he did take a knife to one of his arms. 

Your gaze flitted back to Johnny. But how could he be guilty? It would’ve taken an insane amount of self-assurance to think that he’d pull a stunt like this off. And Johnny had plenty, but it wasn’t in his nature. Instinctively, he was a protector. It was this man’s natural instinct to defend what he loved with his life. 

Johnny leaving Yuta in that shack to search for a weapon wasn’t the whole tale. He left him there, but the weapon he found was the same one he used to kill your tormentor. This man risked his own life to put an end to the most traumatic night of your lives. Like that, the fight was over. 

You narrowed your eyes. Somebody here was guilty. But it wasn’t Johnny.

“You’re all dismissed,” Johnny said after a long pause. 

There was something recognizably off in Johnny’s tone, but you didn’t get the chance to ask questions, because Mark tugged you away from Jeno and led you down the hallway for all to see. 

“Dude, what the hell?” you screeched. 

Mark put his finger on his lips and said, “Somebody sliced up Jeno and I think that same person is framing Chungha.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” you huffed, rubbing your head. “I hope it wasn’t Haechan. He’s such a cancer.”

“Actually, he’s a Gemini.”

“That’s not…,” you trailed. “Nevermind. I love you, Mark.”

Mark still wasn’t used to hearing those words leaving your mouth again and instinctively he drew you into him, kissing you against the closest fucking wall with all of the affection within his very bones. 

You were so happy that you forgot you were even there. That danger and death were sputtering and crepitating all around you, because none of it seemed to matter when you were with Mark. 

“You didn’t tell me you two were back together.” 

Jeno’s voice startled you back into brutal reality. You would recognize it anywhere, but the ferocity in it was foreign. And you quickly noticed the gun in his hand. 

Mark tensed, but hid you behind him. He went to draw his own weapon, but Jeno threatened, “Any sudden moves and I’ll shoot.”

Your heart was racing. Fear coursed through your veins, but it was washed over by unadulterated anger. You broke out of Mark’s grasp, hissing, “What is this?”

“Baby, don’t,” Mark told you. There was worry in his eyes, but none for himself. All of it was for you. 

Jeno laughed, but you could tell that deep down he was bristling. “No, let her. She just doesn’t fucking listen, does she? I told her that you were bad luck, and here she is with her tongue down your throat. You can’t save somebody that doesn’t want to be saved, Mark.”

Mark was irritated, but said nothing. Not with a gun pointed squarely at your chest. 

It was overwhelmingly obvious now that Mark and his friends had been right about Jeno, but you hadn’t realized until now, when it was far too late. “You’ve been jealous this whole time?”

“Everybody else noticed that I was in love with you,” Jeno said with total vitriol. “Never you. You’re too busy sulking over Mark to pay me a lick of fucking attention.”

If it weren’t for the weapon glaring you down, you would’ve been tempted to give him a piece of your goddamn mind. The sting of the betrayal sitting in your gut numbed you to most of your fear, but not all of it. 

An irrational, heartbroken man that felt entitled to your affection holding a gun? There was no telling what he would decide to do. 

Jeno was spiraling and it was obvious. He was at the end of his tether which made him all the more dangerous, because that meant anything was fair game. “You know, I thought I took care of us. I thought that having Doyoung out of the picture would give you no choice but to look at me, but I was wrong. First it was Johnny. Then, it was Mark. It's like I wasn't even an option.”

Fighting back the incoming threat of tears, you shook your head and tried to keep your voice level, “You killed Doyoung so that you could have me?”

Jeno answered smartly, “Nah. That was all you, babe. But I would’ve done it. I would’ve done anything for us.”

Mark wanted to pull you out of harm’s way, but Jeno cocking his gun at him made him still. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. His heart was thudding so violently, twisting in his chest, because the girl he loved was in danger and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her. 

You couldn’t tell if he was addressing you or Mark when he said, “Love is a weakness. You want to, but you don’t want to. Your brain’s telling you this, but your heart’s telling you that. Who do you listen to? What’s good and what’s bad?”

Your head was spinning. Your muscles were tensing with the overpowering urge to attack, as were Mark’s, but you knew Jeno was a threat. You coaxed sweetly, “Jeno, put the gun down. You and I, we’re friends. We can talk this out like we always have.”

That only made Jeno’s rage worse and he snapped, “That right there is your fucking problem. You think I’m stupid. Don’t you know I can tell when you’re lying to me?”

You heaved a breath. If it weren’t for Mark’s body still pressed so closely to yours, you probably would’ve panicked. 

Jeno was mercurial in his feelings, switching from resentful to indifferent, to petulant like a newborn child. His voice was wounded as he confessed, “I’ve spent so long wishing that I could have you there with me. And every time it feels like I get close, there’s another guy. I’m back where I started. It’s always one step forward and three steps back with you.”

You shook your head, slipping your fingers through Mark’s. “What’s your endgame then, Jeno? You know I’ll never be yours.”

“I know,” Jeno said, glaring as his eyes dropped to your intertwined hands. “And that’s why if I can’t have you, nobody will.”

There was a loud crackling in the air, so loud your ears started to ring, but you thought it was out of shock. 

It was over before it even started. Mark shoved you out of the way, sending you barreling to the ground just in time for the gunshot to miss you, but pierce him through the shoulder. 

Jeno wasn’t none too pleased about the bullet missing his ultimate target, but because he’d already gotten started, there was no way that he was stopping anytime soon. The second he raised his hand to fire another bullet, a second shot echoed out behind his frame. 

You gasped when Jeno collapsed, a pool of blood peeking out from under him, but you crawled over to the body crouched beside him and shrieked, “Mark!”

Mark was leaning against the wall, taking inhale after exhale. You tried to reserve panic for later, taking off Mark’s coat and applying pressure to the wound. His eyes winced closed and he hissed, “Fuck! That hurts.”

“I know, baby. I know. But we’ve gotta stop the bleeding,” you replied, vision blurring from tears. You hoped to god the bullet missed his nerves. 

Jaehyun came rushing over as Johnny looked over Jeno’s body, making certain that he was no longer a threat. He took his gun and said to Jaehyun, “Call emergency services.”

Jaehyun bobbed his head, pulling his phone out of his pocket immediately and calling a number he had on speed dial. 

“Keep the pressure on him. I know it doesn’t look that serious in the movies, but a shoulder wound can kill him,” Johnny told you, intent on sitting there until an ambulance arrived. 

In the corner of your eye, you noticed him pull a chain from Jeno’s coat and mumble something under his breath. 

You briefly lifted one hand off Mark’s shoulder to wipe a tear away. Being with Mark again blinded you, tricking you into thinking that you’d finally be happy solely because you had Mark back, but this burst your bubble. It’d never be over. Days of living in unbroken fear would never stop. The internal warring would never end. It was a constant. 

“I hate that sound,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Mark’s voice was quiet, but he pressed his other hand to your forearm to let you know he was still there. “What sound?”

An invisible icy breeze crept over your shoulders, making you shudder as you replied, “Gunshots.”

“Then, we’ll go somewhere we’ll never have to hear them again. It’ll be just you and me. Maybe a family, if you want one.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

Mark smiled as wide as he could, squeezing your forearm. 

“And then what happened?” Maxine asked. 

Mark, holding your six-year-old daughter in his lap, answered, “I went to the hospital. Your mommy rode with me in the back of an ambulance.”

Turning the corner to your bedroom with cups of hot cocoa in your hands, you threw your husband a look and asked, “Is it a good idea to be telling our children about this, Mark?”

August swiftly begged, “Wait no. We want to hear the rest of the story about how Dad got his scar. Right, Maxi?”

Maxine bobbed her head. “Mommy, please?”

Mark’s bottom lip protruded, mimicking the cute pouts and puppy eyes of your shared children. “Please, Mama?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at your husband’s behavior, but he and your kids were too damn irresistible. “Oh, what the heck. Okay. Fine. Go on.”

Maxine stood on her father’s thighs, dancing excitedly in celebration. Mark watched her fondly, but kept a close eye to make sure she didn’t fall. August, on the other hand, simply smiled. He’d always been curious about you and his father’s life endeavors. 

You passed cups of hot cocoa to your two kids, both of whom gave you a sweet, “Thank you.”

August took a sip and asked, “So, what happened at the hospital?”

“I had to get a surgery on my shoulder,” Mark explained. “When I woke up and I could keep my eyes open for longer than a few minutes at a time, it wasn’t Christmas eve anymore. It was New Years.”

You bobbed your head. “I spent Christmas with your father in that hospital. I was supposed to go home to have dinner with my parents and a bunch of shareholders, but I couldn’t leave his side. Especially not without knowing if he was okay.”

The only time you left was when you literally had no other option. Bathroom breaks or the doctors kindly asking for you to leave. The others occasionally came to give him a visit as well, but as long as Mark was there, that hospital was your new home. 

Their company meant a lot back then. It helped not to be too lonely there from time to time. You half expected a huge, ‘I told you so’ or something from all of Mark’s friends, but they were surprisingly sympathetic. 

Imagine Mark’s surprise when he woke up for good and you told him that Haechan had even hugged you. 

Maxine’s eyes winced closed. “Ow! That’s hot,” she exclaimed, setting her mug on the nightstand. 

“Careful, sweetie. You’ll burn yourself,” Mark said, eyes flickering with care. 

Your lips curled into a grin. You liked watching Mark sometimes, like you weren’t even there. Here and there, you would peek around the corner after coming home, listening to the sounds of your husband fathering your kids. He was so attentive and patient with them. It meant everything to know your babies were in good hands. 

Mark showed Maxine how to blow her hot cocoa and she mimicked his actions with cautious sips, demanding politely in between, “Keep talking. I wanna hear the rest of the story. Please?”

You chuckled. This little girl would follow up the most aggressive demand with a sweet-sounding ‘please?’

“Your mommy had to enlighten me on what happened after I went to the hospital, because I was too out of it to see the mystery unfold in real time,” Mark replied. 

You nodded your head. You still remembered sitting there beside that hospital bed, ceaseless beeping fading into background noise after enough hours spent basically alone. You’d told Mark, “He tried to kill Johnny to throw off whatever investigation succeeded the shooting.”

Mark had blinked, processing. Thinking took entirely too much strength hooked to whatever equipment was keeping him alive in that damn hospital. “What about Jodie?”

“Jodie was collateral damage, maybe a surrogate. I was obviously the actual object of his rage. His endgame. It gives me chills, thinking about how he smiled in my face when he knew he wasn’t gonna leave that party till he or I was dead.”

The little flashback made you fight a sigh. People had betrayed you before, but none like that. You banished the thoughts away and kept entertaining your kids. Jeno was gone. In hell somewhere, hopefully. 

As you snuggled under the blankets beside your son, he questioned curiously, “Who stabbed Jeno?”

“The medical examiner looked at him. She said the wound was obviously self-inflicted to a trained eye,” you replied with a snicker. At first, you were outraged. Nowadays, all you could do was laugh. 

You weren’t even slightly worried about your kids comprehension skills as you regaled them on that ever so wonderful time in your life. Your kids were brilliant. Maybe it was all those books they liked to read, but you could have the most advanced back-and-forth conversation with those two and they would understand every single word. Sometimes it was frightening. 

“And to think, he had such a fit over an injury he made himself,” Mark added, shaking his head in astonishment. 

The thought made you want to roll your eyes, but another one made you want to burst into laughter. “God, do you remember his face when Jaehyun told him that he’d be fine? I think he and Johnny suspected Jeno was the killer.”

Maxine was beaming from ear to ear. “Uncle Johnny is so cool. Is he still coming over next weekend?”

You bobbed your head. “Yup. He said he has a surprise for you. And before you ask, I’m not telling.”

Maxine pouted. “Please?”

“Nope. Your cute tricks won’t work on me this time. I fortunately value my life and Uncle Johnny will kill me if I tell you,” you replied, crossing your arms. 

Maxine sighed sadly. You hated it when she did that. It made you want to give her the entire universe.  

Fortunately, Maxine forgot rather quickly, because she whipped around and asked her father, “Daddy, how long did it take you to heal?”

“I was all better the next day,” Mark lied through his teeth. 

You deadpanned, “He’s lying. He was in the hospital for a week and it took three months before he was even slightly normal again.”

Then, you moved here. Jaehyun and Chungha came over to help you with interior design. Imagine your shock when you found out the reason they were suspiciously walking around Johnny’s penthouse was because they were sneaking around to kiss and hook up. Apparently, they were taking a page out of your book. 

You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand. Noticing that it read eleven o’clock, you said enthusiastically, “Alright, kids. Who’s ready to open up their Christmas presents?”

There was a loud chorus of, “Me!” Your kids started to jump up and down on your bed in excitement, nearly crushing your legs, exactly as they had done when they woke you and your husband up a couple of hours ago. 

Mark chimed in, “First one there gets to open up their biggest present first.”

Immediately, Maxine and August hopped off your bed, racing each other to the living room as quickly as possible before the other could get there. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. Never in a billion years did you imagine having this future with Mark, but you were endlessly grateful. “Merry Christmas, love of my life.”

Mark leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Merry Christmas, baby. I’ve got a little surprise gift for you later.”

“Oh?”

Mark snickered at the mischief on your face. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you get that little look on your face,” Mark replied with a sly grin. 

You shook your head, but you were still smiling. “Okay. If it’s not that, then what is it?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Okay, fine. Have it your way. I don’t care,” you groaned. 

Mark was sporting the biggest smile ever. For what, you had absolutely no clue, until he pulled you for another kiss and confessed, “I’m so glad we made up that one Christmas.”

Your skin came alive against his. Your whole body was filled with bliss and wonder. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heart race. “Me too, baby.”

[uniquexusposts]

hi!! would you consider writing a part 2 of the james beaufort one shot that you wrote? absolutely loved it!!

The best friend - James Beaufort (2)

Click here to read part 1

Main characters: James Beaufort x reader Genre: fanfiction, fluff, TV show  Word count: 2567

Summary: Y/N invited James and his sister Lydia for a day out at the water. Will this be the moment for a lot of realisation?

It was around 22:00h when Y/N stopped the car in the driveway and glanced at James. “Shall I wait here, or do I have to park over there?” She pointed at the free spot behind Percy’s car, next to the wall of his house.

“You can wait,” James replied, his tone neutral.

She nodded and put the car in park, setting the handbrake. As James unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, he hesitated. “Actually…” He turned to her. “I think it’s weird if you stay here. But then you will have to…” He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I’ll park the car,” Y/N responded. James got out, and Y/N parked behind Percy’s car. She then stepped out, swiftly putting her hair up with a clip and leaving a few strands to frame her face. Opening the trunk, she swapped her trainers for heels. Locking the car, she walked over to James. “How do I look?”

James scanned his best friend from head to toe. The transformation from casual to chic business attire was seamless. A smile spread across his face. “Like a businesswoman,” he said.

“Perfect.” Her heels clinked on the concrete as they walked together toward the front door.

“How…” He glanced at her, curiosity piqued. “How did you know about the heels? The preparation?”

“Women’s secret,” she teased. “It’s my mum’s car. She always has an extra pair of heels in the trunk. And by wearing the most comfortable trousers that look chic and classy. Always be prepared, James.” The front door opened just as she finished speaking. “You never know what to expect.” 

James looked impressed and stuck out his arm, signing she could enter the house first. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” one of the maids said. “Mister Beaufort.”

“Good evening,” James said formally. 

Y/N always noticed how James’ demeanour changed when he was at his own house. Here, he was quieter, his smiles less frequent, and his energy felt... different. The lively, carefree James she knew so well seemed to retreat, replaced by a more reserved version of himself. If she was honest, James acted like an asshole when he was home. 

“Hello,” the cheery voice of Y/N said. 

As they walked through the grand foyer, Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for him. The house was magnificent, yet it seemed to cast a shadow over James' vibrant personality. It was his home, and she respected and accepted that. 

When they reached the living room, it almost seemed like James’ parents were expecting them. Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort stood beside each other, ready to greet the two young adults. “Good evening, James. Y/N,” Mr Beaufort said, nodding slightly in acknowledgement. Mrs Beaufort offered a polite smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Good evening, Mr and Mrs Beaufort,” Y/N replied, her voice respectful yet warm.

“Whence the honour to see you here so late?” Mr Beaufort asked Y/N. 

“Lydia and I are invited for a sailing trip with Y/N’s family,” James answered for Y/N. “So we are here to pick up Lydia.”

Mrs Beaufort nodded, her smile turning more genuine. Despite a pang of jealousy over the warmth and inviting nature of Y/N’s family, she was glad her children could receive that kind of respect and hospitality from them.

“That sounds delightful,” Mrs. Beaufort said. “Lydia will be pleased.”

“I will go get my bag and pick up Lydia,” James excused himself, touching Y/N’s lower back briefly. 

As soon as James was out of sight, Y/N was immediately offered a drink. Recognising it as an invitation to engage in conversation, she asked for a glass of water and sat on the sofa. It didn’t take long for Mr. Beaufort to seize the opportunity to inquire about her parents’ business, probing for information and potential investment opportunities. Y/N barely knew anything about James’ family, but she knew everything about their business. And probably vice versa. Y/N’s entire personality changed from herself to a businesswoman. She knew how to navigate these conversations carefully, revealing enough to satisfy curiosity but not too much to compromise her family’s privacy. She skillfully deflects any attempts to delve too deeply into sensitive details. She was polite and engaging yet maintained a firm boundary around the specifics of her parents’ business strategies.

After a few more minutes, James returned with his bag and Lydia behind him. When Lydia saw Y/N, she cheerfully smiled. 

“It was delightful catching up with you, Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort,” Y/N politely smiled and got up. “Good evening,” she said goodbye to James's parents. 

As Y/N and Lydia made their way to Y/N’s car, Mr. Beaufort stopped James, sharing some possible investment or collaboration strategies with Y/N’s family. James listened politely, nodding along, but he knew he had no intention of pursuing these discussions. When he could finally excuse himself, he stepped outside to find Y/N reversing the car to make getting in easier. He never expected to think this, but he could kiss her on the spot. Y/N was thoughtful about so many things, but it made him feel weak. As he approached the car, he noticed Lydia already comfortably settled in the back seat, chatting animatedly with Y/N. James opened the passenger door and slid in, seeing how Y/N had already turned back into herself. 

“Ready to go?” Y/N asked.

“Absolutely,” James replied, feeling a sense of relief as they drove away from the formal atmosphere of his home. 

“Y/N,” Lydia said. Y/N had a quick glance at her in the mirror. “Have you ever considered to be a spin doctor? Or a spokeswoman? Because the way you communicate… Not to brag about myself, I know things about being a spokesperson, but you are a natural talent.” She smiled. “Oh, and thanks for the invite!” 

Y/N bit her lip; she had never received a compliment like this. 

“You talk so easily,” James added. “And you always know what to say when improvising.”

“Oh, stop it,” Y/N mumbled and entered the main road. “Thanks, I guess.” She licked her lips. “But yeah, I will reconsider it,’ she mumbled, driving back towards her house.

* * * 

The sun was high in the sky as James, Lydia, Y/N and her family spent the day on the boat, anchored in a bay the following day. They weren’t the only ones who thought spending some time on the waters was a good idea: it felt like the entire country (well, more like the region) was present. But that didn’t stop anyone from enjoying the day. The gentle rocking of the boat and the sounds of the sea created a perfect backdrop for a day of relaxation and fun. 

Lunch was served an hour ago. It was more like a picnic, but it was delicious. Y/N had been reading a book, and James was taking a nap in the sun. The others were swimming, playing board games, reading, or simply enjoying the tranquility. 

James woke up from his nap and felt the sun burn on his skin. He sat up and stretched his arms. His eyes scanned the surroundings and a satisfied smile came on his lips. Then his eyes fell on Y/N, who was in her own world while reading. “Y/N/N,” he softly said. 

She looked away from her book, slightly distracted. “Hmm, ja?” 

“Shall we go for a swim?”

“Scared to go alone?” A playful smile came on her face. 

“Always.” 

She smirked. “Give me a minute, I’ve one page left.” 

“Okay,” he said and got up, walking to the cabin to get a cold water bottle. The boat wasn’t huge, but big enough to have every facility on it to serve an entire family. James returned to find Y/N setting her book aside. He handed over the bottle of water. “Stay hydrated.”

She thankfully smiled and took a huge sip. “Much needed, though,” she replied. She threw the bottle on the sofa. “Ready?” 

“Say no more.”

They walked to the edge of the boat, the sun reflecting off the water’s surface. Their eyes both squinted because of the bright reflection. James looked at Y/N; she was inspecting the water, doubting whether she should jump into it. A grin covered his face, and without hesitation, he jumped into the water in front of her. 

Y/N gasped as the splash hit her, then laughed, shaking her head. 

James widely smiled and brushed his hair out of his face. “Where are you waiting for?” 

She rolled her eyes but smiled, taking a deep breath before diving in after him. The cool water was refreshing, and she quickly surfaced, shaking her head to remove the water droplets. “Oef,” she breathed. “My skin was so warm that the water feels so fucking cold.”

A laugh escaped his lips. “Don’t be such a wimp,” he said and splashed some water towards her direction. 

“Ha-ha,” she retorted, playfully splashing him back.”

They began to float around. Sometimes, they point at another boat in the distance and talk about it or laugh about a memory. 

“So… Do you know what you want to do after school?” Y/N asked the forbidden question. 

James stared in the distance, trying to think of an answer to give. Oxford… That was on his plan. Correction: on his parents’ planning. “Oxford.”

“To do what?” Y/N raised her eyebrows. 

He sighed. “Can we talk about this another time? This is not the time.”

“Sure…” Y/N rubbed her face. “I’m just curious and worried.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“You didn’t like it when I asked you the same question.”

“Because I didn’t know what I wanted.”

James turned to look at her. Despite the severe nature of their conversation, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked in the afternoon light. Her cheeks had a sun-kissed glow, and with her hair pulled back, her features were more defined. There was a caring look in her eyes, one that James had always had a weakness for. “I don’t know what I want either.”

“I thought you had a plan,” she said surprisingly. 

“Oxford, spokesperson for Young Beaufort, other projects and eventually take over the business,” he listed off, a hint of frustration in his voice “The plan that was made before I was even born. So no, I don’t know what I want because it’s not my plan.”

Y/N knew about it. Lydia had the same kind of path planned out for her. But somewhere, she had always hoped James and Lydia would pick their own path. She could sense the conflict within him, torn between the expectations placed upon him and his own desires. 

“And I can’t just take a gap year because my parents are less accommodating than yours. I have to live that perfect life, I can’t just try things and hope they work out. My parents have high expectations from me and the last thing that they will do is accept a gap year where I can explore my passion,” he snapped. 

She pressed her lips into a thin line and looked down. “I know,” she said softly, her voice laced with empathy. “But sometimes, you must carve out your own path, despite what others may expect of you. It’s not easy, but it’s worth fighting for your own happiness.”

“Y/N, I know you want the best for me but I can’t make it true, okay? I know you try to cheer me up or give me some help, but I can’t. I appreciate it, but it’s my life,” he shot back. “And don’t take it personally; it’s something I have to deal with myself.” 

“I understand,” she softly said, her heart aching for him. And then her heart dropped at the most wrong moment; she felt something brush against her leg. A loud gasp left Y/N’s mouth, and she reached for James. “Ew, ew, ew,” she panicked and clamped her legs around his waist, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I felt something! There’s something here!” 

James was taken aback by Y/N's sudden panic, his mind still processing their conversation. But when he felt her grip tighten around him, he quickly snapped out of it, his instincts kicking in. He wrapped his arms around her protectively, scanning the water around them for any sign of danger.

“What? What is it?” he asked urgently, his voice laced with concern as he searched for the source of her distress.

“I-I don’t know,” Y/N stammered, her heart racing as she clung to him tightly. “I just felt something brush against my leg, and it freaked me out.”

James glanced around, his eyes narrowed as he tried to spot any movement in the water. “Stay calm,” he said reassuringly, though his own heart was pounding in his chest. Then he saw something in the water; just a plant. A snort left his mouth. “It’s a plant, Y/N,” he said and reached for it. 

“No, I swear, it was not.”

“Look,” he said and held up the plant. A laugh rolled over his lips. “Just a plant.” 

Y/N scanned the plant. “No, it was something else.” Her lips parted. “Don’t laugh,” she mocked and softly slapped his chest. His laughter filled her ears. 

His laughter grew louder, the tension from their earlier conversation dissipating as they shared a lighthearted moment. "Alright, alright," he conceded, still grinning. "But I promise you, there's nothing to worry about. Just a harmless sea plant.” He held her close, his arm around her waist and her body pressed against his. With his other arm, he made movements to stay above the water. “Let’s get back to the boat,” he grinned. “But you have to swim yourself. I will stay close, okay?”

She nodded and slowly let go of him, still staying close to him, almost afraid to move. James grabbed her hand and waved their fingers together. 

As they swam back towards the boat, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of James's hand in hers, the warmth of his touch sending ripples of electricity through her veins. She stole glances at him as they moved through the water; His hair, damp from the water, fell slightly tousled across his forehead, accentuating the soft curve of his jawline. The sunlight danced across his skin, highlighting the subtle freckles dusted across his face. 

With each stroke, Y/N felt herself drawn closer to James, the distance between them narrowing until they were side by side, their fingers intertwined as they moved through the water together. And at that moment, surrounded by the vast expanse of the sea and the boundless sky above, Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over her—a feeling of belonging that she had never experienced before.

When they reached the boat's ladder, James turned to look at her, his eyes soft and gentle as he helped her climb aboard. “Are you okay? Alive? Do you still have all your limbs?” 

Her face straightened. “Shut up.” 

He widely smiled. “See, nothing to be afraid of.” 

Click here to go to part 3

[solxamber]

Heyya saw you're still open, so I will request my favorite character. I've been seeing a lot of RSA!Silver. So it's about Silver and MC/Yuu still not in relationships. Then some shenanigans happen. Where there's RSA version Silver shows up. I'm not sure if he can be a different character or personality, but the interpretation is up to you.

Imagine how RSA! Silver can be more up front showing affection to Yuu but Silver is not. It ends up confusing Yuu's feelings and makes Silver try his best to show his affection too. It's making RSA!Silver and Silver fighting over Yuu. Hopefully no problem.

Silver x reader x RSA! Silver

loved the idea! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3

It all starts during a spell misfire, and suddenly an RSA student who looks exactly like Silver but acts a little differently is standing in the middle of the headmaster’s office, looking only mildly concerned. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Crowley had crowed, immediately shoving the “guest” into your care.

The RSA Silver is… different. He’s friendlier, more open, and somehow even a little more dazzling with that unguarded smile he flashes your way. He introduces himself as a knight-in-training who’s proud to serve his prince with a wink and, surprisingly, a slight bow directed at you.

“This should be fun!” he says with a laugh, catching your stare.

Silver — your Silver — is already watching from the shadows, his calm gaze hardening when he sees RSA Silver’s warmth towards you. Normally, Silver isn’t easily rattled, but he finds himself lingering close, always observing this other version of himself who seems so openly comfortable with you.

The jealousy is subtle at first: he stands a little closer, making excuses to keep you nearby when RSA Silver is around.

And you? You’re a little bewildered yourself. This easy-going RSA Silver is affectionate in ways you aren’t used to — patting your shoulder when you’re joking, walking close enough to brush your arm, offering to help you with even the most minor tasks.

He’s friendly, sure, but it stirs up a mix of confusing emotions when compared to the quieter, more reserved Silver you know.

One afternoon, RSA Silver and Silver both linger in the garden as you sit with them. You’re laughing at something RSA Silver says, and he leans in, his expression soft. “I know we only just met, but it feels like I’ve known you for ages. When I leave, would you—”

Silver clears his throat, cutting RSA Silver off. “There’s no need to trouble them,” he says, almost flatly, surprising you with the way his usually calm expression is edged with something sharper.

RSA Silver just smirks. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” he teases, crossing his arms. “But it’s cute.”

Silver’s jaw clenches. He moves closer, his presence steady and warm at your side, more open than usual. His gaze softens when he looks at you, a small but genuine smile on his lips. “I don’t think you need anyone else,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

By the time RSA Silver’s two days are nearly up, the confusion you feel is almost overwhelming. Your heart’s been tugged between two versions of the same person, each showing you a different side.

When RSA Silver finally approaches you, his expression is thoughtful, almost reluctant. “I’ll be leaving soon, but… I’d like you to come with me. My world could use someone like you.”

It’s tempting, for a moment. You glance at Silver, the one who’s been by your side all along, steady and loyal, the one whose quiet strength has already won your heart.

You shake your head with a soft smile, looking back at RSA Silver. “I appreciate it, but… I think I’ve already found what I’m looking for here.”

RSA Silver accepts your answer gracefully, with a small, wistful smile. “He’s lucky, then,” he says, clapping Silver on the shoulder in a final parting gesture before disappearing in a swirl of magic.

As soon as he’s gone, Silver’s gaze locks onto yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his hand reaching for yours. “I… I wasn’t sure if you—” His words trail off, and without thinking, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I always liked you, Silver. Just you.”

His face softens, his cheeks just barely pink, and he smiles — the genuine smile you don’t see very often. “I was hoping you'd say that”

Masterlist

[n1ght0f-nyx]

mha boys asking you out pt2/3

warnings/tags: cliffhanger, all mights fully retired in this one, more fanon way of acting than canon ngl, i dont think there's other warnings other than that- feel free to dm me if you notice a common warning that could affect someone characters: touya todoroki (dabi), tomura shigaraki, himiko toga, Jin Bubaigawara (twice) Toshinori Yagi (all might), Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada (present mic)

Dabi/Touya todoroki The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that made me feel like the world had paused just for a moment. The stars overhead seemed to twinkle more brightly than usual, casting a soft glow over the abandoned rooftop I often found myself on when I needed to think. Tonight, though, I wasn’t alone.

Dabi was there, leaning against the edge of the rooftop, his usual smirk absent. His turquoise eyes seemed deeper tonight, filled with something I couldn't quite place. He had asked me to meet him here, and curiosity had compelled me to come, even though a part of me felt uneasy.

"Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble that always sent shivers down my spine. "Thanks for coming."

I nodded, my heart beating a little faster than usual. "Of course. You sounded like you had something important to say."

He glanced away for a moment, staring out at the cityscape before taking a deep breath. "I’ve never been good at this sort of thing," he began, and I could see a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "Being open. Being... honest."

I took a step closer, my curiosity piqued. "Dabi, what’s going on?"

He ran a hand through his unruly black and white hair, his usual confidence seemingly slipping away. "Look, this isn’t easy for me. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t care. You... you mean something to me, Y/N. More than anyone else ever has."

My heart skipped a beat. I had always sensed there was something more between us, but hearing him say it was a different matter entirely. "Dabi..."

He held up a hand, stopping me. "Just let me finish. I’ve done a lot of bad things, things I’m not proud of. But you make me want to be better. For you. I don’t know if I can, but I want to try. If you’ll let me."

His words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I could hardly breathe. I took a step closer, my hand reaching out to touch his. "Dabi, I..."

He looked at me, hope and fear mingling in his eyes. "Will you be with me, Y/N? Can you give me a chance?"

Tomura shigaraki

The sky was overcast as I walked through the city streets, the chill in the air a stark contrast to the warmth I felt inside. It had been a strange few weeks, getting to know Tomura Shigaraki. The notorious villain had always seemed so distant, so untouchable. But there was something different about him when it was just the two of us.

I turned the corner and saw him waiting by our usual meeting spot, a small café tucked away from prying eyes. His white hair was as unruly as ever, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tattered coat. Despite his intimidating appearance, there was a nervous energy about him that I hadn't seen before.

"Hey," I greeted him with a smile, trying to lighten the tension I could feel in the air.

He glanced up at me, his crimson eyes softening just a fraction. "Hey," he replied, almost hesitantly.

We settled into our usual booth inside the café, the warm lighting casting a gentle glow over us. I sipped my coffee, stealing glances at him over the rim of my cup. There was something on his mind, something he was struggling to say.

"Y/N," he began, his voice unusually quiet, even with his raspy tone, "There's something I need to tell you."

I set my cup down, my heart starting to race. "What is it, Tomura?"

He took a deep breath, his fingers drumming nervously on the table. "I know I'm not the easiest person to be around. I've done things... terrible things. But being with you, it's like I can forget all of that, even if just for a little while."

I felt a lump form in my throat. I knew his past, the darkness that surrounded him, but there was something undeniably human in his words.

"I... I like you, Y/N," he continued, his eyes locking onto mine. "I don't know if I deserve it, but I want to be with you." (twice) jin Bubaigawara

As I sat in the dimly lit hideout, the usual buzz of the League of Villains surrounded me. Toga was busy sharpening her knives, a twisted grin on her face as she hummed a cheerful tune. I was lost in my thoughts, barely paying attention to the world around me, when Twice suddenly appeared beside me. His presence was hard to ignore, not just because of his dual personality but because he always had this chaotic energy that filled any room.

"Hey, Y/N!" he exclaimed, his voice teetering between excitement and anxiety. "Got a minute? Or two? Maybe a few?"

I looked up, meeting his masked gaze. "Sure, Twice. What's up?"

He fidgeted, scratching the back of his head. "So, uh, I was thinking... or maybe not thinking... or maybe overthinking... but there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

My curiosity piqued. Twice was usually so straightforward, yet he seemed genuinely nervous. "Go on," I encouraged.

"Okay, here it goes. Or maybe it doesn’t. No, it does! I mean..." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Y/N, would you like to... go out with me sometime? Like on a date? Maybe grab some food, cause you know, villains gotta eat too!"

His words tumbled out in a rush, and I couldn't help but smile. Twice was always endearing in his own way, and his nervousness made him even more so. I considered his offer for a moment, but it wasn't a difficult decision.

future! Toshinori Yagi (all might) It had been one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. My alarm didn’t go off, I spilled coffee on my shirt, and my boss was in a particularly foul mood. By the time I finally made it to the coffee shop down the street, I felt completely drained. I just wanted a moment to breathe and enjoy a cup of coffee without any interruptions.

I found a cozy corner and settled in with my drink, the warm aroma already beginning to soothe my frazzled nerves. As I took my first sip, I noticed a man in the line who seemed oddly familiar. He was tall but noticeably thin, with unruly blond hair and tired eyes. He looked like he had seen better days, yet there was something undeniably kind about his demeanor.

After getting his coffee, he glanced around the room and, to my surprise, made his way over to my table.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice gentle yet strong, "is this seat taken?"

I shook my head, gesturing for him to sit. "No, go ahead."

He smiled gratefully and took the seat across from me. For a moment, we sat in comfortable silence, sipping our coffees and watching the world go by.

"I'm Toshinori," he finally said, extending his hand. "Toshinori Yagi."

I introduced myself and we began to chat. He had a way of making me feel at ease, and I found myself laughing at his stories about the city and its quirks. There was something almost nostalgic about the way he spoke, like he had lived a thousand lives.

As our conversation flowed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew him from somewhere. It wasn’t until he mentioned something about "saving the day" that it clicked.

"Wait a minute," I said, narrowing my eyes playfully. "Are you some kind of hero?"

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made my heart skip a beat. "Not exactly. I used to be...involved in that sort of thing. Now I just try to help out where I can."

Before I could probe further, he changed the subject, asking about my day and listening intently as I recounted my morning mishaps. It was refreshing to have someone genuinely interested in my mundane stories.

As the conversation wound down, Toshinori leaned forward slightly, a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"You know," he began, "I've really enjoyed talking with you. It’s rare to meet someone who can brighten my day like this. I was wondering if... maybe you'd like to do this again sometime? Perhaps dinner?"

I blinked in surprise, my heart fluttering at his words. "Are you asking me out on a date, Toshinori?"

He nodded, a hopeful smile on his face. "Yes, I suppose I am." Shota Aizawa

It was a quiet afternoon at U.A. High, the kind of peaceful lull that’s rare in our line of work. I was tidying up the training room, lost in thoughts about the next set of exercises for my students when I heard a familiar, tired voice behind me.

"Y/N," Shota Aizawa, or Eraser Head as most knew him, called out.

I turned around, finding him leaning against the doorframe, his eyes half-lidded but focused on me. There was always something intriguing about Aizawa. Maybe it was his calm demeanour, or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with such stoic grace. Whatever it was, he always managed to capture my attention.

"Hey, Aizawa. What's up?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

He straightened up, walking towards me with that usual, unhurried pace. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he said, his voice low and steady.

I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach. It wasn’t often that Aizawa sought me out for personal conversations. We worked well together, respected each other as heroes, but this felt different.

"Sure, what's on your mind?" I asked, putting down the training equipment and giving him my full attention.

He paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "I know we’ve both been busy with our duties here and in the field. But I’ve realized something. Spending time with you, working alongside you, it’s become... important to me...you're important to me"

My heart skipped a beat. Was he really saying what I thought he was?

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. "I’d like to get to know you better, outside of work. Would you be interested in having dinner with me?"

For a moment, I was speechless. Shota Aizawa, the stoic and composed hero, was asking me out.

Hizashi Yamada I stood in the middle of the bustling common room of the hero agency, flipping through a stack of mission reports. The sound of chatter and the occasional ring of a phone filled the air, blending into a familiar, comforting hum. I was so absorbed in my work that I almost didn't notice when the noise quieted down slightly, replaced by a distinct, upbeat voice that always managed to stand out.

"Hey, Y/N! Got a minute?" Hizashi Yamada, better known as Present Mic, called out as he approached me with his trademark grin.

I looked up from the papers, feeling a smile tug at the corners of my lips. "Sure thing, Hizashi. What's up?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of nervousness in his usually confident demeanor. "Well, there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Curiosity piqued, I set the reports aside and gave him my full attention. "Go ahead. What's on your mind?"

Hizashi took a deep breath, his eyes sparkling with determination. "So, I've been thinking... we've been working together for a while now, and I really enjoy our time together. You're awesome, Y/N, and I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, I was stunned. Hizashi was always full of surprises, but this was unexpected. I felt a warmth spread through my chest as I processed his words. "You want to go out with me?"

He nodded, his grin widening. "Yeah! I think you're amazing, and I'd love to get to know you better outside of work."

[wildesqdreams]

you and i

pairing - grayson hawthorne x fem!reader.

summary - grayson hawthorne has a hard time living for just himself. but the love that he shares with y/n will always make him feel at ease.

warnings - this is set before the first book, so none, only kissing and romance.

navigation | masterlist | request | taglist

a/n: this has been stuck in my drafts for a long time, and i finally finished it :) now, i will be getting to your requests.

the bed slightly dipped, as the boy climbed in besides her. he was trying to be very quiet since it was already night, and everything was peaceful.

but he failed, when he felt y/n stir and turn around, facing him, "where were you?" her voice was a little raspy, and grayson couldn't help but smile at her tired state.

the girl had stayed up, waiting for her boyfriend, but soon sleep took over her and she went to bed. her arm wrapped around his waist as she snuggled closer to him, missing his warmth.

"just had to do some papers," his hand went to her waist, pulling her closer to his chest.

"you should take a break."

"hm."

"you know i'm right."

silence.

grayson hawthorne played an important role in his family. he wasn't the eldest nor the youngest, but almost everything stood on his shoulders. he was raised differently than his brothers. one day, he was going to inherit the heir, so it was important for grayson to do everything right. not make a single mistake.

but how can a person be happy if he can't let himself slip? if he can't let himself breathe and let go.

that's why y/n didn't let him get lost in the hawthorne life. even though grayson has a strong character, the girl isn't afraid to speak her mind. that's what pulled the boy towards her. the wise heart. the honesty. and of course the love that she gave to others.

"just because others have made unrealistic expectations about you doesn't mean you should follow them. you are your own person, grayson. sometimes it's okay to take a break, even if some may get mad."

and just like that, grayson fell in love with her even more.

"you know," his hand went to her cheek, "sometimes i wonder how lucky i got with you," he stroked her skin, his touch making goosebumps appear on her arms.

"i think you should stop with that cheesy crap," the girl smiled and rolled on her back.

not even a second later his hand went to her hip and she felt light kisses be planted on her neck, "i can't help it if i have a beautiful girl with me," his lips moved along her jaw, stopping upbove hers, "but you are so much more then beautiful to me, y/n."

"i'm serious about what i said grayson," she looked into his eyes, her hand went to the back of his neck, "i love you and i don't want you to over stress yourself. i just want to help."

"believe me, you're helping me a lot, love," with that, his lips connected with hers, into a passionate kiss. and in this moment, grayson hawthorne was reminded again that no amount of money was as important as the girl beneath him.

with the love that they felt for each other, the couple would get through anything. just as long as they were together.

taglist: @noaboacoa @mochamvgz

[leggerefiore]

What would the villains call their beloved? Would they have different nicknames for them in bed?

cw: light sex mentions, mostly fluff, Minors DNI

characters: Lysandre, Maxie, Archie, Cyrus, Volo, Guzma

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ Honestly, he calls you too many affectionate names, ranging from his mother tongue over to whatever language you speak. It almost seems as if he has forgotten your actual name at times. Though, when he does call it out, it probably frightens you a bit. It becomes such a rare occurrence that you expect something bad. Lysandre sees no need to change what he refers to you as in public or not, too. The only time he may drop it all together was for anything related to business.

☕️ He tends to lean towards things like “my love” or “my dear,” but “darling” and even “my angel” when he is feeling oddly emotional. Sycamore gives a laugh at all the endearments that he counts whenever you both visit. It is genuinely loving when coming from him, as he rarely feels so strongly and lovingly towards another person.

☕️ In bed, nothing changes too much. He prefers to lather on affection and love wherever he can. Though, oddly, the frequency in which your actual name is spoken increases in more intimate moments. It seems he finds the use of your actual name something deeper than most of the affectionate terms be usually spills out.

“My love,” Lysandre's deep voice called out to you while you were slipping on your shoes to leave. You were shocked to see him home so early. He rarely came home near the midafternoon, often inundated with work or whatever else came up in his professional life. An arm came around you warmly as he pressed a kiss to your cheek and then to your lips. “Where are you going?” You sighed slightly. No where now, you supposed, while leaning into the warmth of his embrace.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 He struggles a lot with endearments. It honestly is a bit embarrassing how he feels trying to think of what he could possibly call you. Maxie felt there was no need for such things. Despite that, however, he found himself with a few to use in private with you. In public, he was much too formal to even dare call you anything but your name. He did not wish to seem overly soft. His reputation as the leader of Team Magma was important.

🪨 Though, as soon as you both are alone, a “beloved” escapes him. He prefers more “formal” affectionate terms. “Dearest” and “my love” are also not so uncommon. Yet, sometimes he does drift to something softer, like calling you “Numel.” He always catches himself after that one, gets flustered, and denies that he even said it. It is a real compliment, rest assured, as he finds the pokemon utterly adorable.

🪨 Maxie does not really use different terms during sex. (Though, “Numel” certainly does not make an appearance there.) There is something a little bit funny about his flustered face and moans mixed with the term “beloved” escaping his lips. Since sex falls firmly in his private time with you, there is no reason for his choice of endearments to change, he feels.

You heard the door click open as you laid on the couch, bored. “I'm home, beloved,” Maxie's voice called out as he entered the room. He had been away all day, busy with whatever his group was doing nowadays. You perked up at the sight of him and rushed over immediately. He flinched as you squeezed him into a tight hug, nuzzling into the knit texture of his sweater. He was so warm. “My, what's this?” the Magma leader chuckled. Shifting out of his work mindset, he allowed himself to embrace you in return. He had come to love you greeting him after a long day of work. “I missed you, too,” he sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to your head. When you gazed up at him with lidded eyes and a tired expression, he had to bite back, mumbling out a “Numel.”

🌊Archie🌧

💧 How many marine and pirate terms can this man use to refer to you? It truly is a mystery as to where he finds all of these terms in his head, but you suppose he was nothing if not obsessed with the ocean. Archie honestly prefers endearments to your real name, clearly a sign of his affection if his calling a certain kid scamp was anything to go by. He nearly always refers to you by some pet name or endearment that has crossed.  Worries do cross your mind that he has actually forgotten your name. (You test him to make sure he has not. Archie was extremely confused by this afterward, but he passed it with ease.)

💧 “Luvdisc” is his favourite term to use overall, clearly enchanted by the association with the pokemon to long-lasting relationships. “Treasure” is another favourite, but somehow gets outshone by the fish. There are also a few “darlin's” that come from him when he tries to change up hos dialogue a bit. Maxie gags at his gratuitous use of the terms around him, but everyone else thinks it is pretty run-of-the-mill for Archie. He is just an affectionate guy, so why would that not reflect in what he calls his lover? You certainly do not mind.

💧 Within the confines of sheets, he does tend to lean more towards the use of “treasure.” He feels a bit to overcome to really even say Luvdisc. Besides, you clearly are a treasure, somehow even more precious than his beloved ocean. There may also be a few more easier terms tossed around, like just straight up “love.” His brain power is going elsewhere in those moments, please excuse him. Though, if he ever uses the term love and you are not heading in an intimate direction, rest assured that you are now.

“Luvdisc,” Archie's voice travelled across the beach with a near terrifying volume. You peeked up from your phone as he rushed to your side. His grin was bright and his form as caught in the hot sun beautifully. His favouritism for a certain nickname for you was always apparent. He squeezed you in a tight embrace, even spinning you around for a moment. “Ah, there's my treasure. Thought I'd lost for a moment,” he let out a sigh. You nearly let one out, too. You were just about to call him, but that was clearly unneeded now. A kiss was shared between you both before settling down on the sands to enjoy the afternoon.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He refuses to use terms of endearment when literally anyone else is around. Cyrus is not one for allowing himself to seem influenced or emotional. While he may love you dearly, there is not a chance he would express that in the sight of other people. It almost becomes expected for your name to called out by the blue-haired man when he wants your attention. It would be a bit depressing if you were not already aware of how restrained he was. There are a few rare moments a more affectionate term slips from him with people around, but that usually is reserved for when he is in distress.

☄️ But, he does allow himself a momentary escape when alone with you. “Beloved” is his go to and typically the only one he ever seems to use. It fits him oddly. Though, he also uses other terms more sparingly. A “dear” and “wife/husband/spouse” are generally used, too. It may seem a bit stiff, especially when paired with how standoffish Cyrus could be, but it was clear from how he unconsciously shifted to them that discreetly showed that he truly cared. No one else gets called by anything but their name by him, after all. You are even allowed to call him whatever you please with people around. His soft spot for you is more than apparent.

☄️ As for in bed… He barely uses different terms. Beloved does seem to be ditched in favour of the convenience that “dear” provides in his stricken state. His brain is not working as he intends it to. He struggles to say a lot during sex usually, anyway, so it is a bit invigorating to hear the affectionate word escape his lips. Though, if he does say your actual name, that either means he is truly overcome with feelings or upset. It is pretty easy to find out which it is.

"Beloved..." Cyrus mumbled out as you nuzzled into his nape. Your arms were tightly around his waist. He had just come home after a few days away due to his plans.

“Beloved…” Cyrus mumbled out as you nuzzled into the nape of his neck. Your arms were tightly around his waist. He had just come home after a few days away due to his work on his plans. You did not say a word as you continued to cling to him. The Galactic Boss knew better than to wonder why you were being so affectionate. Your incomplete spirit begged for you to crave his attention and affection. He sighed. It was not like he could pretend that he was much better. Not when he enjoyed the feeling of your body pressed against his so much. One of his arms came around your waist. “I apologise for being away for so long…” he pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, “Let's enjoy this time we have together.” You finally peered up at him with a loving gaze.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ Truthfully, he uses endearments extremely sparingly. There is something that he finds about referring to other people with a term that shows how much you feel about them very uncomfortable. Though, with you, it is quite unfortunate how easy the terms slip off his tongue. Volo supposes a part of it is how obvious he wants to make your relationship to any observers. He would admit he does have a slight jealous schism internally. Of course, he does it for you, too. The blond is fully aware of how much you enjoy hearing him call you such sweet terms.

⭐️ He usually falls into the camp of things like “love,” “dear,” and “darling.” Traditional time-tested things. There is a certain mocking tone he may take after everything is said and done by calling you a “chosen one.” That falls somewhere between a genuine endearment and him being cruel, however. Most people will also get sick with him referring to you as his partner/girlfriend/boyfriend. It is clear to most people paying attention that it some strange from a claiming on his part. Of course, you can only stare at him in adoration whenever he uses them.

⭐️ Alas, Volo definitely drops a lot of his loving facade in bed. His tone can be that of someone filled completely with love or malice, depending on the situation. The terms are the same, but he may also lean more towards sneering out a “chosen one” to vent out some of his frustrations. Just be happy it is with his dick consensually this time and not trying to have Giratina kill you this time around. He may also use a bit more degrading terms, but telling him off usually makes him stop.

“Oh, if it isn't my love,” Volo's voice was recognisable, but especially so when you two met while you were out doing research tasks. His smile was nothing but friendly as he approached you. “Can I interest you in some more pokeballs?” his tone was teasing now. You sighed as tugged on his bag's strap to pull him down to your height. These random run-ins have become more common since you started dating. It was more than obvious he likely had an eye out for you… And was neglecting his merchant duties once again. You could not complain when he pecked a quick kiss to your lips. It seemed you both would be spending a decent amount of time along together in the wilds of Hisui.

🕶Guzma💀

□ This big, bad boss loves calling you whatever pet name he can think of. He literally probably only says your name if he is asking someone else for you. Guzma just does not really see a point in not doing it. He basically calls everyone by nicknames. Except for Kukui, but he is an exception, not the rule. He does not care about whether it is socially acceptable or not, he just does what he wants and isn't concerned with the looks he gets for saying “babe.”

□ He leans towards more casual, modern terms. “Babe” is one of the bigger ones, but he will occasionally bring out a “cutie” or “sexy.” The latter often gets him a few side eyes. A rarer one that seems to only used when he is certain no one else is around is “love-bug.” You try not to laugh at it because you can tell he is trying his best to combine his love for bug-types with his feelings for you. Though, you saw Plumeria choke out a laugh when she heard him say it to you once. It was a bit funny seeing Guzma say such a thing while trying to keep up his edgy appeal.

□ In bed, he does not really change what he says too much. Cutie may not rear its head, but sexy and babe are certainly a plenty. He may even combine if he feels so inclined. Though, it may also be a product of him losing his mental focus in the throes of passion. Your name is occasionally blurted out within the brain-mush of words, too. He is a bit of a mess, honestly.

“Hey, babe!” Guzma's voice stood out among the crowd of people that had taken over the usually quiet route. Rumours about some rare pokemon apparently drew them in, making it annoying to navigate despite needing to. His hand caught your arm as he pulled you under his own, determined not to get separated again. You heard him mumble something about annoying tourists under his breath as both managed to get out of the crowded place. “What the hell is so great about that many Meowths?” he complained, “If they wanna see a collection, I'd be happy to point them to that Kahuna's house.” You chuckled at the thought. Guzma only pressed you more into his side while walking down the route. It seemed like showing you the Wimpod nest would be on hold for today.