#i have one pie in one hand that's comedy and in the other i have a rube goldberg machine ready to throw an angst pie hee hee

[lqveharrington]

Lucky King? | L.M.

summary: Lucifer takes pride in everything he has, especially his wife.

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x wife!reader

includes: fluff, lucifer being a sweet and attentive husband and father, suggestiveness, possessiveness, that’s pretty much it (let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: okay but like, i am on serious hazbin brain rot, i have written more for HH than any other fandom so far.

Being the embodiment of pride meant that Lucifer constantly flaunted everything to his fellow sins and his people. And being the King of Hell meant he had a lot to brag about. Especially his family. God, Lucifer loved his family and would do anything to talk about them in every conversation.

An overlord meeting about movie productions on VoxFlix? Add romantic comedies, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite. Speaking with Beelzebub about her different alcoholic beverages? Make sure to make mojitos, they’re his wife and daughter’s favorite.

He took pride in who he married and who his daughter was. After all, they were the royal family of Hell.

“Mom, I think it’s as tight as it can go— MOM!” Charlie’s eyes flashed red as she squealed, grabbing your arm.

“Sorry!” You tilt your head back as you let a laugh fall from your lips. “I thought you said—“

“No no no no noooo!” She turned around, eyes wide. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her crown.

Charlie beamed at you and traded places with you. “My turn!”

You hum as she tightens the corset around you, eyes flickering up toward the mirror when you hear the door creak open. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hi, my love.” He pressed a kiss to your hand and then one to Charlie’s forehead. “Hi, apple pie.” He watched his daughter tug on the strings attached to the corset, moving forward when it seemed like you were going to fall from the platform. “Charlie, what are you doing to your mother?”

“Pulling her corset tight—“ She grunted as she held the string in place, tying the back. “There.” You gave her a thumbs up as she finished, watching her glow at your silent praise.

“Gorgeous as always.” Lucifer stole you from your platform, the devil’s tail wrapping around your waist.

“You know? Vaggie is probably looking for me! I should leave…” Charlie let out an awkward laugh and fled for the door. “Text me when you need me for the entrance!”

Lucifer dipped you down, chuckling when you let out a noise of surprise. “You look breathtaking, my love. Maybe we should just skip the gala and do better activities right here—“

“Lucifer!” You lightly smack his chest, face flushed from his words. “You horny devil!”

“Says the queen of Hell.” He captured you in a quick kiss, red lipstick staining his lips. “Come on, Charlie can handle it on her own.” He squeezed your hips as you walked over to the vanity with his head resting on your bare shoulder.

You glance at your beloved with a soft look, “Luce, we didn’t coordinate a whole gala just to have our daughter host it herself.” You clip on a pair of earrings, the golden snake and apple shining through the light. “We also didn’t have these outfits made for us just for them to be wasted away on our bedroom floor.”

“I mean…” He nipped on your exposed shoulder, earning a gasp and glare. “They made you a maroon dress with a slit exposing your legs, my love.”

“Because it matches your maroon and black suit.” You turn in his arms and tug at his lapels. “Which I have to admit, kinda does it for me.”

He smirked as he slowly pushed you up against the vanity, “Yeah? Maybe we should ditch.”

“Nope.” Your hands clasped behind his neck, eyes widening when you feel one of his hands trail down to your exposed leg. “Luce…”

“You started this.” He slotted himself between your legs and continuously peppered kisses to your collarbone and neck, softly sucking. “You’re a tease.”

“Lucifer—“ Your protests were cut off with a quiet moan, but you quickly covered your mouth when hearing him chuckle. “Nope, we’re leaving now.”

Lucifer separated from you, a wide grin adorning his face as he scanned you. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “Let’s go then, my love.”

You raised a brow but didn’t protest, letting him wrap his arm around your waist to guide you toward the ballroom. You both were quickly accompanied by your daughter as you made your way to the landing of the grand stairway.

The lights flashed off and the spotlight projected on the Morningstar family, the crowd’s voice hushed when spotting the monarchy. Lucifer gave a welcoming speech to the sinners, overlords, and sins who attended, making sure to mention his family and how they helped make the gala entirely possible. Final rounds of applause echoed through the ballroom as Lucifer finished off, letting everyone go back to their socialization and dancing.

“Mom,” Charlie caught you before you could follow Lucifer to greet his fellow sins. “Did you… Do you know why… You have bruises on your neck.” She finally mumbled out, eyes not meeting yours.

You felt yourself warm from embarrassment. Not only did your daughter tell you that you have hickeys on your neck, but you stood in the blinding lights with an audience staring at the three of you. No doubt photographers caught this and snapped photos for the internet. “Thank you for telling me, baby. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to murder your father.”

“Mom—“

You scanned the room before your gaze zeroed on Lucifer. He was laughing with Asmodeus before meeting your gaze and gave you a wink. Oh, he was going to pay.

“Lucifer.” You appear by his side. You give his fellow sin a quick smile but turn back to the little devil with a scowl. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “It was nice catching up with you, Oz.”

You guided Lucifer back to a secluded hallway, eyes flashing bright red when you were alone. Within a blink of an eye, you had Lucifer pinned against the wall with your forearm.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to know that I went out there with bruises all over my neck? Or, better yet, that our daughter was the one who told me what was on my neck?” You seethed. You were beyond embarrassed and pissed, you’re surprised you haven’t become a full demon yet.

“To be fair, it was more than just your neck—“

“LUCIFER!” You use your free hand to reach up your collarbone. The room felt ten times warmer, and it didn’t help that you felt Lucifer’s devil tail decided to wrap around your calf.

He remained pinned on the wall, giving you a cheeky grin. “This is really hot.”

“Oh, my god!” You release him with a glare. “There’s going to be photos everywhere! What will the public think about—“

“Lucky king?” He shrugged as he let his fingers trail up your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Listen, we’ll get rid of the photos. But is it really a crime to show off what’s mine?”

You grumble a small response, propping your head on his shoulder. “You’re crazy, Luce.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He chuckled.

The photos never made it outside of Pride Manor, but the teasing you received from the other sins made you flush every time. Lucifer listened to each jeer, a smirk present on his face from the constant reminder that you were in fact his.

Especially when the bruises scattered around you spelled out his initials.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. four (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 24.1k.

WARNINGS & TAGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns sometimes, angsty angst that angsts in the form a verbal fight, tears, unresolved feelings and denial, tension, a heartfelt conversations with bro and lots of yearning!, a time jump (three months or so), mingi and love being unhelpful but helpful at the same time, yeosang being a cutie pie and a little bit of his story gets mentioned!, the L word, confessions, apologies, mentions of body dysmorphia and body related insecurities, soft!dom yunho (he's a little bossy), switch!reader (oc hates to let him win i guess), reader has breasts and a vagina, mirror play, teasing, light choking, messy kisses and makeouts, masturbation (f), just the tiniest bit of voyeurism, praise kink if you squint oh my god, fingering, multiple orgasms, love making (who else cried), the post-sex convo and more feelings and dreams are discussed.

NOTES: hi everyone! WE MADE IT!!!!! here's part four of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH. after this, there's an epilogue/little part five to let everyone know sort of what happens after this + to set up the next story in the universe. i also just want to adress that one of you kindly suggested to change up some of the terminology i use in the warnings and for some other things in the fic itself and i thank that person a lot! but i also want to encourage you, if you feel something's missing or if i can do anything to be more inclusive in my stories, to let me know! i hope you all enjoy it part four of mbc, we've come a looong way and i'm happy on how this turned out. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 2nd 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox

masterlist - part one - part two. part three.

You dream about him. Every night. 

His mouth on yours and his hands handling you with care fill the gray matter of your brain and rots it. It fits you. 

A rotten brain for a rotten person. 

The scenario repeats in a loop in your head even when you're awake, alone in your house office, accompanied by staff at the main office building. It doesn't really matter what you're doing, who you're with or if the task at hand requires your full attention, Yunho still invades your mind and makes you feel like you're leaping, flying through skies and then falling, falling, falling, before hitting the ground hard. 

Because at the end of the memory, it plays what you did. 

The way you pulled away, the way you left him there without a proper explanation. 

You didn't have dinner with your brother, it was over nine o'clock at night. You needed an escape goat, a plan, an excuse to flee from the happiness you grasped with your sticky, messy, disgusting fingers. 

Everything you touch seems to turn to shit. 

So you can't touch Jeong Yunho even if you want to. 

You shan't, you won’t, even when he’s so close to you it takes a lot for you to hold back. He’s a message away, a meeting away from you. And his messages on your phone kept piling up this week until they didn’t. 

And now, as you watch him enter the meeting in a suit and tie, you do your best to pretend nothing happened between you even though it's supposed to. To everyone else's eyes, you’re still a couple. 

You’re grateful for that. You don’t sit together, you can’t sit together. Of course you can't, that would be very unprofessional. You can't voice your opinion about any decisions made by his team (or rather, his brother's team) today because that would look like you're doing it to either spite him or to be on your boyfriend's side, it would look like corruption! 

God bless the stupid societal and corporate norms. You won't even have to speak to him today, if you're lucky. You know he's shadowing his brother today, learning his way through these meetings you've been attending for years or at least pretending to do so.

There's absolutely no reason to speak to him today. 

Yay. 

Sukwon sits at your left, at the head of the table, and Yunho sits with his brother at Sukwon’s left. Neither your father or his are here today so everyone’s shoulders are a little less tense and the meeting is a quarterly one, which means people are going to be explaining graphics and reading numbers you have to stay focused on. 

There's things you have to write down, there's statements you have to whisper in your brother's ear so he can say them out loud instead of you. 

But Yunho looks way too good in his suit and tie and it's a little distracting. 

And he's looking right at you, too. 

You can hear your co-workers immediately gossiping about it, you can see your brother turn to you, then to him, then to you and you can faintly see how he raises a brow. Faintly, because you're pretending to read over some papers in front of you by the time he bumps your leg to try and catch your attention. 

You step on his foot under the table, he mutters an offended ouch and pinches your arm in retaliation, which causes you to stop pretending to eye the documents and turn to him. 

“Stop it.” 

“You started it,” he says and then Sukwon gives you that look that lets you know he knows something you don't, although it can possibly be like that because he's a clueless little shit. “Did something happen between yo—” 

Well, maybe not as clueless. Good thing you wore great heels today, the face he makes as he's trying to pretend that the sharp end of your Louis Vuitton is not stabbing him in the leg feels like a victory. 

“Keep quiet, the meeting is starting.” 

Oh, how you love winning. 

The thing is, you can't even enjoy it now. Yunho’s face pops up on your mind again and it serves as a reminder of just how close he is. 

As someone from the sales team starts their presentation, your eyes drift to Yunho in a way that feels oddly familiar. 

There, trying to stay upright even though you know he's zoning everything out, there's this memory from your junior year in highschool that never tortured you the way it does now. 

Although he's always been very tall, Yunho used to sit near the window, in the second row of the classroom you both shared that year. Not his decision, certainly whoever made that decision was not the sharpest tool on the shed because all he did was look out of the window and close his eyes when the teachers were not paying enough attention to him. 

And you used to stare at him just like you're doing now. Through the corner of your eye, with your back straightened and ninety percent of your attention on the topic at hand. He held the other ten percent, tenderly, softly, without realizing what he was doing. 

Just like he held you that night. 

At the time, you wondered what went on in his head every time he drifted away from the class. New ways of making your life impossible? A new insult to your integrity, maybe? Highschool Yunho was everyone's dream but, for you, he meant nothing but nightmares and headaches. 

Nothing has changed much. 

But instead of wondering if he's thinking about new ways of pestering you with his presence, now your heart races at the possibility of him thinking about the kisses you two shared last week. 

You hope no one notices the sudden shift on the chair or the gulp you make to keep your emotions buried deep down inside of you, where no one can reach them. 

Trying to regain focus and ignore Yunho completely, you look at the projected graphics in front of you. The person doing the presentation turns to the next slide as soon as you're beginning to understand what the hell they're talking about. Surprisingly, your brother turns to whisper at you about it. 

“The new company sales are lower than expected.” 

When you turn fully to him, you can see he's biting his cheek in concerned concentration. You want to roll your eyes. 

“I told dad no one would care about this company and you were the one who approved for us to go forward with it.” 

“I know.” 

“Dumbass,” you whisper, scrunching your nose and turning to the presentation again but your brother nudges you slightly and you have to look at him again. 

Only for your eyes to completely bypass him and land in Yunho. 

God fucking damnit.

Is this what having a crush is like? Is tortuous and you hate this even more than when you couldn't stand seeing his face out of pure annoyance. 

This is why you probably never had a crush on anyone before. But it's strange, because it doesn't feel like something new. Yes, Yunho attending meetings is new but the feeling is familiar and grossly nostalgic of something you feel like you left behind.

And now has come back in full force. 

You never had a crush on Yunho, at least not that you know of. 

But this feeling is telling you otherwise and it's maddening and disgusting and— 

“Something definitely happened, hm?” 

Eyes flicking over your brother's sudden concerned expression, you push back on the seat and sink in it a little. This way, when you look up to him, Yunho is nowhere in sight. When you speak again, you make sure only Sukwon hears you. 

“We can save it, don't worry about it. I'll write up a proposal of how we can market the concept of the company in a way that it at least piques people's interest.” 

Your brother huffs, unsatisfied with your deflection and the way you visibly close up at the mere thought of telling him if something did happen between you and Yunho. 

But he says nothing. It stings that you know he's going to leave it at that, the support you're supposed to have slipping through your fingers as you do your best to keep your feelings to yourself. It's not his fault, not really. 

He doesn't know any better. 

You don't know any better, either. 

But your focus on the meeting comes back and you end it with thirteen pages of virtual notes and a list of things you need to do today to keep this shitshow of a company afloat. 

There's a split second when you get out of the room that you feel Yunho’s eyes on you. You're afraid he's going to take the opportunity to talk to you, so you look up and around trying to find something, someone you can use as a distraction, as a shield. 

But then there's like four pairs of hands dragging him away and you see that annoyed glint in his eye, usually reserved for you, as they turn him around and away from you. 

Yes, of course they wouldn't let him speak to you right now. He's shadowing his brother, he has important things to do! 

Yay. 

You ignore the beating of your heart as you move quickly through the halls. Sukwon and Gunho are already aiming for the elevator so you opt for the stairs, knowing you won't have to speak to anyone at all if you get to your office like this. 

Well, Sukwon's office. You have yours on a lower floor, not as unnecessary space-taking as his, but you usually work there because you enjoy the view. 

So when you finally close the door behind you and the view is blocked by thirty piled up boxes you start thinking that the universe is upset with you. Is this your karma? Everything and everyone against you just because you walked out of a kiss before making a mistake? 

Is not like Yunho cares that much about you anyway!

Huffing, you look around the room until your eyes land on that stupid tree you started painting when Sukwon told you he wanted to redecorate his office. Its branches extend just a little more than what you remember and there’s a part of it that was unfinished the last time you saw it. You can only assume either Seonghwa or your brother had something to do with it.

Which sucks. 

Because you’re so painting over the stupid tree one day. 

You stare at it while your mind wanders. Head slowly filling up with noise, you finally feel at ease when your thoughts are nothing but work: You need to write up a proposal to that stupid vintage-esque focused company to see if there’s some salvation for it. You need to speak with marketing, get one of them to go along the process with you. You need to sit down with your brother and kindly tell him to never allow something like this to ever happen again. 

Making a mental list to organize and prioritize everything you need to do, you barely register footsteps echoing in the long hall. You should’ve, because it’s lunchtime and there’s no one on the floor, but you don’t. 

And so when the person you least want to see comes through the door and lets out a heavy sigh, you turn to him like he grew a second nose over the course of the twenty minutes you last saw each other. 

“I hate it here, I truly do.” 

It almost makes you want to laugh, but you remain stoic as you move through the office. You take a few boxes and you put them down on the floor until there’s some light leaking through the window and illuminating the space enough for it not to give you a headache as you work. 

Sitting on your brother's chair, barely sparing him another glance before turning on the desk computer and pulling up an empty document. You click and tap a few meaningless things: You pick the font, you mess with the font size for a second before setting it back to its default. Anything to help you look busy and not like your heart is going a million miles per second. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” 

Blurry, in the background, you can see him look around the office, probably taking the mess in. He moves too, walks until his expensive shoes are tip to tip  with a literal mannequin resting against the wall. 

You stop paying attention as you write the date and the proposal title. Something simple, something that both your father and the CEO of the dumb not-approved-by-you company that has you in this predicament can understand. You hate to say that you assume they’re not very smart if they put out such a dated and non profitable idea for their company. 

Still, you try to address Yunho like nothing’s bothering you and like you’re not nervous you two are in a room alone after everything that went down. 

“You can ask Seonghwa what that means,” you start, sighing like his friend and your brother are hopeless. Because maybe that’s what they are. “They’re not running any ideas by me even though I’m the one that spends the most time in this office, so.” 

“Hm,” he starts and you can hear him walking around, but your focus is now on the first few words of the proposal. You realize there’s really nothing you can start before speaking with marketing and so you open the notes app, to have a list of ideas to run through them at least. “Thought you worked from home.” 

“I do. I have an office three floors down, too.” It’s easy sharing information with him now, especially if it means there’s something to talk about that’s not… Well, the kiss. “I hate it, it’s in a corner and people can see into it. It’s easier to work here.” 

“And Sukwon hyung doesn’t mind?”

“Considering he’s never here, I doubt it.” 

“Cool, cool.” 

There’s something in his tone that makes you want to look up, lump in your throat growing in size enough for you to cough it away. You don’t look up, you can’t look up even if you’ve misspelled the word rebrand like four times already. 

But then the light you managed to cast onto the space disappears completely. You feel something besides you, the soft material of an expensive suit blazer grazing your arm and cheek. You see veiny, masculine hands secure themselves around the arms of the chair before he’s turning you to face him. 

You gulp. 

He’s leaning down close, closer than he should be, closer than what he’s allowed to be considering anyone can walk in on you. You’re flushing, you can feel the redness creep up your neck and heating your ears and face before you gather the courage of raising a questioning brow. Yunho stays silent, his eyes scanning your face and briefly landing on your lips before returning your stare. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” You ask him again, quieter this time, voice trembling a little. 

“Princess,” he starts, the corner of his lip raising just a little, like it’s funny he has to say what he’s about to say, “are you ghosting me?” 

Shit. 

“Why would you— Why would I—,” a nervous chuckle abandons you and then you huff, trying to seem offended at his accusation, “W-what do you mean by that?” 

Leaning into your space a tiny bit more, he repeats “Are you ghosting me?” 

Creasing your brow, you straighten in the chair but do nothing to pull him away “No.”

“Then what about the ten messages I sent you and you left on delivered?” 

Faking a surprised gasp, you move to take your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and unlock it to swipe through your messages “You did? Oh, my God, I’ve been soooo busy.” 

“You’re shit at lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you—” 

“Are you okay?” 

Your eyes snap from the phone to his face, genuine annoyance creasing your eyebrows this time. 

“You don’t have to ask me that everytime you see me, Jeong.” 

“But are you?” He asks as you finally find his chat and open the messages you dreaded to see the entire time that passed. There’s a few of them practically begging you to speak to him, one apologizing for the kiss and the other ones you don’t even see because Yunho is taking the phone from your hand and placing it on the desk next to you. “I mean, what happened didn’t trigger anyth—” 

You hate he’s this considerate with you, even after you clearly walked out of the situation with a poorly formulated excuse.

“What happened was a mistake.” 

Yunho physically deflates and lets the chair go, the tension on your shoulders lifting a little now that he’s not as close. 

“What?” 

“It was a mistake, we shouldn’t have done that. We’re professionally obligated to work together, fake all of this together, so it shouldn’t…” You pause and consider for a bit before doing something you never do: take the blame “I shouldn’t have. I apologize.” 

Letting out a breath, you turn the chair and delete the misspelled rebrand to write it the correct way, heart too weak to even look at his reaction. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re never doing anything like it again. 

You hear him shuffle with the boxes at both your feet and, from the corner of your eye, you see him turning away from you and then back, hands on his hips “I don't think it was a mistake.” 

“Well, it was.” 

“I liked it.” 

That brings out a genuine, short lived laugh out of you “Thank you, I’m a great kisser.” 

You open your brother’s email and pretend there’s an urgent matter inside the contents of one of them until Yunho’s hand closes over yours, over the mouse. 

“Y/N.” 

There’s a lot of things about Jeong Yunho you hate: The swoop of his hair when there’s no gel on it, the free aspect to his nature you’re never going to get even if you try to, that one time he called you an ugly giant after wearing platforms for the first time ever. 

And the sweetness of his voice when he says your name, the plea you hear on it and the shudder it brings to your spirit. It shakes you, it moves you to look at him again, to actually take his feelings into consideration. 

He’s staring at you with so much hurt, it makes your heart sink into an abyss of guilt. 

“Hm?” 

“I think I like you.” 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

Your heart drowns deeper, your resentment towards the situation grows branches like the tree on the wall. They hug your pride and your ego, they poke you on your side for reciprocating Yunho’s feelings just a little. 

Well, a lot.

“You think?” You ask him and your voice sounds far away. He nods. You stand up from the chair, hand squeezing his before letting drop. “Stop thinking then.” 

His eyes closing shut and his jaw tensing is the last thing you see before you busy yourself with the boxes against the window. You pick up two at a time, heavy and the cardboard smelly as you walk to the other side of the office, away from him. 

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” 

You sigh “So am I, Yunho. You don’t like me, you liked that I kissed you.” 

“Oh, I forgot you know exactly what goes through my mind and my heart, thank you for the remainder!” 

Looking at him over your shoulder, you drop the boxes against the corner wall “Lower. Your. Voice.” 

“No, no. Because that’s not an appropriate response to what I just told you!” He walks towards you and you meet him halfway, heart beating with annoyance at the way he’s speaking to you. He towers over you again, jaw clenched and voice a mere murmur when he speaks again “You have no say in what I feel, how I feel it, when I feel it.” 

“I know I don’t, you idiot. I was just providing you with a bit of perspective.” 

“Perspective?”

“What do you like about me?” Chin up and nose scrunched in a way it only does when you’re really angry, you insist “Why now? Why do you suddenly care? Is it out of pity? Is it because it’s convenient, because we’re already pretending? Is it because you want to fuck me?!”

“Watch it, Y/N.” His tone is laced with clear offense at what you offered just a second ago. 

“You don’t like me,” you start, shaking your head, “you can’t like me.” 

“Why not?!” 

He’s breathing hard, walking backwards, offering up his palms to the sky and looking around the room like any of that is going to give him an answer to his questions. 

“Why not?” He repeats and there’s that hurt in his voice that, for some reason, makes your eyes water. Are you having a panic attack? A heart attack? Everything hurts. Liking Yunho hurts, wanting him hurts. He comes back, his eyes searching yours even though you can’t do anything but cast them down, to your shoes and his shoes and the boxes and the carpet “Why can’t I like you, princess? What’s not to like? What kind of self-deprecating ideas do 

you have in your head that makes you think I can’t care about you like that?”

Shaking your head again and closing your eyes, you are barely able to stifle a sob and force your tears back. You want to tell him that that’s not the reason but you would be lying to him if you did. 

That’s part of the reason. 

Behind the whole letting your mother’s win argument, there’s an undeniable amount of self hatred that can’t let you feel like there’s any truth behind his words. 

Why would he like you? Why would he care about you? 

Your hands are dirty and sticky and your being is way too clumsy, so everything you love drops and breaks and turns to dust before your eyes. The fact that there’s this whole fake relationship deal in the middle of it and you can place the blame on your mothers is a blessing in disguise. 

It’s a weapon you can use. 

Even if you don’t want to: His hands are cradling your face, his forehead dropping against yours and drawing a surprised gasp out of you because you didn’t even feel him get him close. 

“I like you, I care about you,” there’s certainty in his tone, like he made up his mind, like he’s confirming his feelings to both you and himself, “I… I—” He takes a breath when you open your eyes and beg him to not say what you think he’s about to say. He takes the hint. “Do you not like me back, Y/N? Are you trying to… Is that what’s happening?” 

You say nothing, but swallow back your feelings and brace yourself on his forearms, nose budging his as you move a little. 

He reads your silence wrong “Y-you do?” 

You think it matters if you do or not. Your heart is already breaking by the time the words are on the tip of your tongue. 

“We can’t,” you whisper to him, letting your tears wet your cheeks and squeezing his forearms when his thumbs start to move in trying to dry them, shaking your head to signal him to stop. As your eyes catch his, you prepare yourself for the gentleness you’re about to lose, with the care you’re about to push away for his own good. “Because if we do, they win.” 

You didn’t know your heart could break this way, as you watch his expression morph from confusion to pain to utter, genuine anger. It’s the same face he made last week, in your living room, as he yelled at his mother for even daring suggesting that you two should be together. 

There’s a time when hurting Yunho brought you some sense of vengeance, a time where you considered it payback for being that person literally planned and made for you. 

Now, you want to hit your head against the wall for even daring filling his eyes with tears, for being the reason frustration descends and wets his shoes as he looks down. 

“Oh.” 

He lets you go and you miss it. You immediately want to take your words back, push him closer to you, hug him, kiss him, whatever it may be to keep him next to you.

You start to mourn the loss of the bond you were able to form with him right away. 

And it hurts. 

He nods again. And it hurts. “Oh, that’s what this is about.” 

It fucking hurts. When he laughs, hands on his face as he wipes his tears away, you feel like you’re going to pass out. 

“And you don’t care about me enough to tell them to go fuck themselves.” He says, a resentful statement that leaves his lips before a breathy laugh does. 

Opening your mouth, you attempt to contradict his words. That’s not true at all, he has to understand, he understands you, he— He raises his hand to stop you from speaking, he shakes his head like he doesn’t want to hear it. 

Like your excuses, even if he hasn't listened to them at all, are not worth his time. 

“I get it.” No, you don’t. “I understand.” No, you really don’t. 

But you say nothing. As he’s slipping through your fingers like sand, at your own doing, you just stare at him with sorrowful eyes and an apology on your teeth. 

He looks at you like he’s expecting you to stop him as he reaches the door. You want to, you really do. 

You don’t. 

“Thanks for letting me know.”

When the door closes behind him and leaves you alone in an office that’s not really yours, feeling like you’re not yourself, you finally allow the reality of what you just did to hit you. 

Hand shaking, you cover your mouth and let out a sob as you let yourself cry what you just lost. But, as you do, you remind yourself that you don’t really deserve Yunho’s care. 

You don’t really deserve his love. 

Hurting him is probably the easiest way out he has of whatever he thinks he’s feeling for you. 

Walking slowly to the desk, you wipe your tears away and nod to yourself. Yes, this is exactly what needed to happen. Good. Yes. What were you doing before he came in? 

You grab the mouse. 

Ah, the proposal. Of course. 

The noise comes back, louder this time. Unbearable and ear-piercing, it forces you to close your eyes and listen to the beat of your heart before you push the sound away. You can’t afford to crash right now.

You skim through your tasks in your mind and, as you do, the reminder of a little notification you saw on your calendar this morning, with Yunho’s name on it, is what finally lets the panic break through your senses. 

“No.” 

And you spend the rest of the afternoon typing your escape plan away. 

By the time your brother remembers he has an office, it’s dark outside and the proposal is

printed and in a folder placed neatly in the middle of his desk. 

He closes the door, raising an eyebrow at the way you’re resting your shoulder against the window behind his chair, the boxes blocking them all piled up in the corner you initially started moving them to this afternoon. 

“You’re still here.” He muses and you turn to him, scoffing at the obvious. 

“Well, somebody has to work.” 

“I was working,” he sounds a little bit offended, but when he passes in front of you and pulls back his chair to sit on it, you faintly smell whisky and cigarettes. “I was at a meeting in the gentlemen's club with Gunho.” 

“That’s hardly working, Sukwon.” 

Looking over his shoulder, he’s face to face with your unimpressed expression. Of course he went to the stupid club with Gunho, of course he didn’t do shit today. 

“Let me remind you that I am, in fact, older than you.” 

“And?”

“I deserve respect and zero questioning.” 

You hum, slightly amused this time. You know he’s goofing around, you know he’s hardly mad at the implication that you do all the work he’s supposed to do plus yours but there’s this slight worry in his face that’s unusual.  

“Is Gunho oppa okay?” 

Your brother frowns “Of course he is.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m— Why are you asking?” 

Shrugging, you turn away from him to look at the city through the window again. You can see the river and the buildings that encapsulate it perfectly and it brings you a strange sense of comfort everytime you zone out and just people watch those who feel free enough to walk along the bridge at this hour, with the cold and the rain and the mess that the leaves leave behind as they fall. 

“You look distraught.” 

“Well, you’ve been crying, of course I am.” 

Interesting. You didn’t think he could tell, which means your face is puffy and you look ugly. Great. 

“The mess in this office made me tear up when I got in this afternoon,” you say, swerving around the accusation with ease because there’s no way in hell you’re telling your brother what’s up with you. “I’m going to need your help when it comes to explaining that to dad.” And then you use your chin to point to the proposal sitting in front of him. 

“You didn’t have to do this today, I know sales are low but-” 

“Oh, that’s not it. That one is sitting on your email. This—” you take two steps, tap the front of the folder with your nails, “is a new thing. A thing he won’t understand nor approve unless you understand it and approve it.” 

And then you move back to your position by the window, staring at the lights and the buildings one more time without explaining anything else. When you hear the flick of the pages being turned, you know he understands how serious you’re about it. No space for debating, no time for complaining: you need him to get it done now, and so he will. 

Because your brother can be a lot of things but he’s not dumb. 

And he can read a room like no other except maybe you. 

Seconds turn into minutes and then the clock ticks and blends together as you wait, shoulder hurting by the time your brother lets out a heavy sigh. 

“No, I won’t approve this.” 

Definitely not what you wanted to hear. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You want to—” 

Defensiveness floats you, over-stimulates your senses and makes you see red at the rejection of your proposal “I want to expand our market, our clientele, our opportunities to keep this company on top. Can you relate?” 

“Y/N…” He scowls at your attack, at your tone “You’re running.” 

“I’m doing something for the company!” 

You think your roar is heard all the way to the first floor. Sukwon stares at you wide-eyed, mouth agape for a second before he closes it again. He has to fix his tie, his suit ironed for once as he takes the jacket off and discards it against the chair. 

Brat, princess, annoying little sister. You know that’s what he calls you, he has called you that ever since you were a child and in the most endearing way possible. You have yelled at him before, you have stomped your foot and cried and moaned until you got your way, until he agreed to let you do something. 

You have never screamed at him like this before, though. 

It shows in the way your chest rises and falls quickly, in the way he has to take a calming breath to not yell back at you. Your eyes are full with tears when he looks up and the crease of his brow disappears because, even though you both could be closer and understand each other better, he still is your brother. 

Your brother, who loves you and cares about you in his own way. 

It proves more difficult to let him see the real you, more difficult than what it felt with Yunho or with anyone else. 

So when the tears fall down your cheeks, you wipe them away quickly and pretend they were never there. 

“I don’t know what the hell happened,” he starts, calm, taking a step into your direction and raising his hand and you recoil a bit out of habit. He hesitates for a few seconds but then he’s squeezing your shoulder and pulling you into a tight hug that feels unfamiliar, unusual and weird until it doesn’t. You melt into the embrace because you need it, because it allows you to let go of your frustration and cry it out on your brother’s chest, “but you’re going to explain it to me whether you like it or not. And only then, I will consider saying yes to your proposal.” 

When you pull away to look at him, it’s with a pout and a scowl that draws a breathy laugh out of him. 

“Stupid.” He pushes you away a little before pulling you back in for a hug, “Always keeping things to yourself instead of letting me take the weight of it all. Stupid.” 

It takes a few minutes, but when the hug doesn’t seem necessary and your usual disgust for physical touch comes back into your system, he allows you to take two steps back and clean your face with the back of your hand. 

“Haven’t seen you cry since you were a child,” he whispers and you shrug, ignoring the fact that your heart stings at the comment. “What happened?” 

You tell him everything that night. 

Yunho hasn’t seen you in three months. 

Which, at first, came as relief. He didn’t want to see your face ever again after the things you confirmed to him back in your brother's office. Who needed you, right? He told himself his mother loved enough to understand the sudden change of heart, although she doesn’t exactly know what happened between you in the first place. 

Maybe he should’ve been honest when he got the chance, back in your house, the afternoon they told you both about the pr relationship. 

He was so close to telling the truth, too, when he walked out of the living room and into the hallway to clear his head and not scream at his mother in front of yours. It was there, at the tip of his tongue, and then his mother appeared in front of him with that spark behind her eye that could only mean one thing: it didn’t matter what the truth was, he was going to do this even if it killed him inside. 

Her words the next second confirmed it and he wondered right then if his freedom was worth the suffering:

“Either you do this or I’ll make sure you’re never able to dance again, Jeong Yunho. No more public university, no more friends, no more staying at the dorm, just your father’s company,” and he was about to refuse, yet again, she raised her finger as a warning. “I mean it. Y/N is perfect to clear the company’s image but if we can’t use her then we’ll have to work twice as hard as we do now to clear it.” 

And Yunho would rather fake an entire life with you than work for the man who single handedly ruined his life the second he was born. He didn’t hate his father, he thought about him like a concept he would never understand even when he desperately tried to, but he would never become part of his company.

Not in the way his mom suggested, anyway. 

He just needed to get through college, pretend to be interested in the family business and then land a freelancer job elsewhere, in a foreign company maybe, one who didn’t seem a threat to his father’s and then move on his own when he had enough money saved. 

Independence. He needed independence. Strangely enough, he needed you to gain that independence even though you meant the exact opposite to him, in his head. 

So he doesn’t know why he yelled at you that afternoon. To take it all out, maybe? He thought he hated you back then, too.

He had already agreed to it in the hallway, to his mom. 

He had already agreed to it the second he was born. 

Which is crazy because that’s not a normal experience to have. And if you were born a boy or him a girl, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. You’d be friends, like Gunho and Sukwon, and maybe he’d be forced to be with someone that wasn’t shoved down his throat for so long. 

Imagine his surprise when he kissed you back that night in his dorm. No, scratch that, imagine his surprise when he started liking you the second you showed your true colors to him. 

You’re not perfect by any means, but neither is he and it only took you allowing him to enter a little bit into your mind, into your heart, into your soul, for him to fall for you hard. Or maybe he always liked you? His mind didn’t allow him to sleep at all when you left, but it didn’t allow him to go and follow you that same night either, so the conundrum continued to torture him until it didn’t. 

After the fight in the office, he went home and sat in his childhood bedroom for a while. He had dinner with his brother when he came home to look for some documents in his father’s home office and then he went back to his dorm and stared at the ceiling until Yeosang came back from wherever he’s been disappearing to these days. 

He pretended everything was fine under Yeosang’s scrutinizing gaze but his friend and roommate knew him so much it only took less than a week for his sudden mood to reach the ears of the rest of the friend group. 

Not so subtle messages started entering his phone. He answered all of them and then used the excuse of being on the app to check your chat in case you sent a message and it didn’t notify him for some reason. He told them everything was okay, that he was feeling a bit under the weather. 

And he managed to convince them until he checked his calendar one day (the one he shared with you) and realized all foreseeable events had been cancelled. You had another meeting where you two needed to coexist, a company dinner with both your team and Gunho’s team that he needed to go to as your plus one and, surprisingly enough, a paparazzi session scheduled by your mother that you needed to first prepare to and then do. 

All of this was explained to him by his PR assistant. It surprised him to see that many postponed and canceled the app. It angered him to assume you canceled everything just because you didn’t want to see him. 

He didn’t want to see you either, but he had to. Weren’t you the one who more than once scolded him for not being professional enough? 

Ha! 

It was his opportunity to tease you about it. And so, when he was told to go to your brother’s office the next day, he had this whole speech ready to go. He would tell you to stop being so dumb, that a kiss and his feelings is something that can be ignored. That he needed you both to forgive and forget. 

Yunho needs to continue his plan, even if his own heart breaks in the process. And as he got down the elevator and walked the hall to reach the office, his heart desperately asked him to reconsider. Because there, while pushing the door handle to enter the space he dreaded to be a week prior, Yunho realized he wanted to ask you to be his again. 

When he found nothing but Sukwon on his chair, his conviction deflated and his ego sank to the ground. 

“Yunho!” Your brother sprung out of his chair, excitingly rounding his desk until he reached for him. Arm around his shoulders, Yunho raised a brow at the sudden animosity. “Were you expecting someone else?” 

“N-no.”

“Right.” 

He knew Sukwon could call his bullshit from a mile away. But it didn’t matter, he was already sitting down in front of him in the new couches facing each other. He wanted to point it out, but Sukwon beat him to it. 

“Your friend Park Seonghwa has amazing taste.” 

“Ah,” he breathed out a laugh, a nervous chuckle that made him gasp for air a second after, “yeah. He, um, was top of his class before he graduated.”

“I can tell,” Sukwon nodded and looked around, scrunching his nose in a way that reminded Yunho of you. “Y/N is not going to be available for the next few months.”

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I know you came here looking for her and we’ve known each other since you were born, Yunho, I think we can skip the shitty formalities.” 

“Hyung…”

Sukwon shaked his head, laughing with a relaxed sincerity that is such a Sukwon thing to do “There’s never not been a moment in my life where my sister doesn’t surprise me. I know you know her and I know you two have grown… Closer since this whole PR thing started but I don’t think you can grasp the full Y/N effect until you live with her, you know?”

He didn’t. Not at all. 

“She crafted in four, maybe five hours a project that would’ve taken me at least a month to sit down and write,” he explained and Yunho swallowed thickly, the lump on his throat going down. “And she wanted to get it done as soon as she got the approval from dad. So, I hope you understand that she couldn’t exactly give you a notice before postponing and cancelling your shared schedule.” 

Ah. So you didn’t want to speak to him at all. He scoffed, annoyed. “So she asked you to tell me?” 

“Nope. In fact, I’m pretty sure she would kill me if she knew I’m meeting with you at all.” 

Yunho blinked, confused. 

“Oh.”

“But I love you like a brother, Yunho. You’re my family, you’re her family even though she hates it and I realized recently that the four of us need to stick together. If everything else goes to shit, we’ll still have us.” 

The four of you. Including him and Gunho. 

“And as a family, we owe each other honesty. We owe each other loyalty and forgiveness and understanding. You see where I’m going with this?” 

“No,” he admitted, frowning a bit. “What does any of that have to do with me and Y/N? We don’t like each other, I know you and Gunho noticed at some point. It’s the way things are supposed to be.” The words had a bitter taste, but he pushed through them. 

He sounded like you.

Sukwon let out a sigh and he got up from his seat to squeeze Yunho’s shoulder “She comes back in three months, Yunho. She’s doing something from the company but she has to come back, right?” 

Yunho shrugged, pretending the information didn’t spark something close to hope inside of him. 

“Understanding. That’s what we owe each other: Love and understanding… And lunch. Your brother actually owns me lunch, feel free to join us.” 

Your brother is the weirdest guy ever. However, he realized that as Sukwon walked out of the office and left him to consider his words, that he was already planning on telling you when you came back. 

He missed you already, too. 

And yet, he didn’t find the courage to tell you at all. It tormented him, greatly, vastly. It consumed him through his classes, his dance rehearsals, his performances. It tugged on his heart the days he had to go to the office and pretend he cared about the company, and through his hang outs with his friends. 

They asked about you all the time. He had to remind them you were on a business trip, he had to make up a story, he had to tell them the details were apparently confidential when he didn’t even know where you were.

He could’ve just called you. He could’ve just asked you. 

His finger over your contact on his phone while he sits in Wooyoung's room during a house party, in the dark. 

He could just ask you. 

He–

“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?” 

He drops his phone, the light of the screen going out as it lands down on the bed. 

“Holy shit, Mingi!” 

 A light turns on and he squints his eyes at the sudden intrusion. 

“You scared the shit out of me!”

“I walked in here like five minutes ago,” his best friend deadpans and Yunho pouts like a child. “You know, I’m starting to feel like I don’t mean that much to you anymore.”

That offends him deeply and he scowls before tossing a pillow in his direction  “What the hell are you even saying?” 

“I’m a patient person, Yunho,” he catches the pillow and tosses it back, “and I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what's been going on for the last month and half but you keep saying everything’s fine.” 

“Because everything’s f—” 

“No, it’s not!” 

Mingi is tired, he can tell. He’s been holding his worries inside since the day he told everyone about his relationship with you and Yunho feels awful. This is that part of his life that’s hard to talk about. He only explained to Mingi about the dreadful desire that his father has of making him work for him around a year ago and he’s known Mingi for so long at this point that it does feel a little like he doesn’t trust him enough. 

But it’s hard and he has kept his feelings and desires buried for so long he thinks he might’ve accidentally dragged his feelings for you along with it and now they’re all mixed up and scratching the walls of their enclosure, begging to come out of him. 

“I’m not used to push people around to tell them about their feelings but you’re my best friend and—” 

“I kissed Y/N.” 

Mingi stops mid sentence, blinking a few times before moving to sit beside him on the bed. Yunho hopes, as he faintly hears the music outside of the room getting louder and Wooyoung screaming something that he can’t exactly make up, that Mingi doesn’t think he’s suddenly confessing his afflictions out of pressure. 

Instead, the words came out of his mouth like he couldn’t resist telling them in the first place. After keeping it to himself for weeks, nearly three months, it finally feels like breathing a little. 

“O… kay.” He says as a response and it’s Yunho’s turn to blink at him in disbelief, Mingi laughs a little. “So you kissed the girl you like. Isn’t that something to be happy about?” Yunho gapes at the insinuation of Mingi knowing he likes you, except, it doesn’t come as a surprise. His friends are very observant, to his absolute horror they can’t be fooled. “Did she reject you? Is that what’s going on?” 

“No! I mean, yes. We… She kissed me first!” He defends himself, taking a quick inhale before cursing softly under it. “And then I kissed her. And then we kissed and she left and she ghosted me for a little, actually. And then I saw her in her office, that's not actually her office but her brother’s, and I… I kind of confronted her? And then she rejected me.” 

By the time he finishes his rambles, Mingi looks amused and a little worried. 

“You have to be in this… Fake relationship with her and that’s tormenting you, then? Because she rejected you?” 

“No, that’s not… We’re not— I am, we are still in the fake relationship, it’s just that she’s gone.” 

“She died?!” 

“What? No! No, she’s,” Yunho closes his eyes, laughing at the assumption because he knows Mingi said it to get that exact response in return, “she’s not dead. She, um, she’s on that business trip.” 

“Oh, that’s right! You told us—”

“I lied.”

“What?” 

His poor best friend looks confused beyond belief and that guilt of not telling him everything creeps in once more, threatening to shut him up until he reminds himself Mingi is trustworthy and deserves some clarity. 

“She is on a business trip, I just don’t know why or how or where she is,” he finishes softly, his lips in a line and revealing just how uneasy that makes him feel. “I don’t know where she is and I think that she left because I— Well, when she rejected me we didn’t end up on the best of terms.”

“So you think it’s your fault.” Mingi finishes with a nod, letting out a sigh a second after. “Well, it’s not.” 

“It kind of is, though.” 

“Yunho, it’s not. She’s a grown up, if she decides to run away from her feelings instead of facing them she’s kind of a dumbass.” 

“Mingi!” Yunho’s pushing him a bit with his hand on his shoulder before he can help it. 

“She is!” Laughing, his best friend takes no offense at the push and instead pushes him back, teasingly. “Remember that one party you had at your place, when your parents were gone on that business trip with your brother?” 

“Oh, that party?” 

“Yeah, that party,” Mingi nods, looking away for a second, something shining in his face Yunho realizes he’s longing for. He wants that to shine on him, too: the security that being with the right person brings you. “Love tried to run away from an argument that night, too. I just didn’t let her.” 

“Are you calling your girlfriend a dumbass?” 

“Yeah,” and instead of saying it with a grudge, the confirmation comes out of a place filled with, well, love. “She was a dumbass back then, at least.” 

“Y/N is not like that at all,” Yunho says after a bit, “she’s not a dumbass for running away from this. Our thing… It’s kind of different. We’ve been put in this situation since we were kids and we hated, like actually hated each other for a while. We treated each other so badly, Mingi, you have no idea the way she gets under my goddamn skin sometimes,” and despite saying it like it’s a bad thing, he can’t help but smile. Mingi notices this, too. “You know I don’t have the best relationship with my parents, right? Well, hers is way worse.” 

“Wait, you told us that this relationship was something to clear your company’s image?” Mingi recalls and Yunho feels another pang of guilt against his ribcage. 

“It is! It totally is, it’s just… Well, she was born a girl and I was born a boy and our parents have a very, um, old-fashioned concept of love and what it’s supposed to look like. It was decided a long time ago that we were going to end up together.” 

There’s a few seconds of silence before Mingi bursts out laughing so hard it drowns the noise from outside the room. 

“That’s funny to you?” Yunho asks, light-hearted and smiling at the sound of his best friend's laugh. 

“No, no, it’s just… Your parents are forcing you two together for some weird legacy, bloodline reason and you fell for the girl you’re in a fake relationship with and you’re supposed to hate?” 

Now that he hears it like that…

“Basically, yeah.” 

“Oh, San’s girl is about to have a field trip with this information.”

“Dude!” 

“What? It’s dumb! Y/N is a dumbass, you’re dumber for not just calling her and telling her you miss her and you’re both really fucking dumb for not telling your parents to fuck off. You’re grown!” 

Yunho sighs, shaking his head. “She doesn’t like me like that, Mingi.”

“Yes, she does!” He laughs again, covering his mouth with his hand once he realizes Yunho is getting annoyed with it. “Yunho… Ugh, is this how you all felt those few months where I was crying over Love?” 

“I didn’t feel anything.” 

“Because you’re a puppy,” Mingi’s shoulder brushes against his in a not so subtle way of teasing him and his eyes blank in pretend annoyance. “You are. And you’re a pretty great guy, Yunho. If she doesn’t like you back it’s not the end of the world.” 

Yunho nods, but he’s suddenly not as convinced as he should be. 

“And you’re also one of the strongest people I know, in here.” Mingi’s finger taps over his heart on his chest. “But you don’t have to carry your burdens on your own. This is all… It all seems pretty dumb to me but it must be really hard on you, hm? Especially since you want to live a life separate from your family, right?” 

That, Mingi knows. “Mhm.”

“And so does Y/N?”

“No, I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs back and his heart aches when he thinks about you and the way you’re treated home, in the way your mother has treated you in front of him. “I think she thinks she’s nothing without her family but I also think she was raised to believe that. They… Well, even her brother has a hard time seeing how fucking amazing she is.” 

“Is she?” Mingi drops his head to the side, doubt and a little prejudice on his expression. “Is she fucking amazing, Yun?” 

“She’s… She’s such a good person. Which is really crazy for me to say, because I thought she was a spoiled brat for a long time. And she is! But she’s also… She cares so deeply and she’s enjoys painting and she’s so great with kids and—” 

“And you have it bad,” Mingi laughs again, shoving him against the mattress with a push and standing up from the bed. Yunho laughs, recognizing the amount of pushing as tipsy Mingi behavior and nothing else. “So bad. Were you about to call her?” 

He feels called out and a little shy about it. He blushes and all. 

“Maybe.”

When his focus goes back to his phone, it’s when he hears it. 

And his heart drops to his ass. 

A distant curse and the sound of a call ending is enough to send his mind into a new, different spiral. 

“Was that…?” 

Yunho picks up the phone, checks the last call he made and your name appears next to the nine minutes and a half his conversation with Mingi lasted. 

His mouth runs dry, his throat closes as he turns to screen to show it to Mingi.

“Holy fuck.” 

“What do I do?” 

“That’s insane. San’s girl is going to have the best night of her life.” 

“Mingi!” He blocks the phone, tosses it on the bed and gets up to shake his best friend's shoulders. “What. Do. I. Do. Now.” 

Your heart still beats like the day you not-so-accidentally listened to a conversion you shouldn’t have. 

There’s the distant memory of your phone vibrating under your pillow at the hotel you were staying at for the night. It happened only a few weeks ago, near the three month mark into your trip around the country, looking for businesses worth the investment in little towns. That far into your adventure, you had met at least a dozen small companies worth every penny inside your father’s pocket, more so than the one’s already signed. You had met wonderful people who didn’t exactly know who you were and you had been treated so kindly it made the ache in your chest go away. 

At least for a little bit. 

So when you sleepily read Yunho’s name on your screen at two am in the morning, the sting of the pain was unfamiliar and the first thing that crossed your mind was that something bad happened to your brother. Or his brother. Or him. 

What other reason did he have to call you when he left that office hating you all over again? 

“H-hello?” 

Nothing. Just silence and maybe a distant melody, the ruffling of the phone against something. 

“Yunho? If you called me to piss me off I swear to God—”

“Holy shit, Mingi! You scared the shit out of me!” 

Mingi? 

There’s a deeper voice you can hear on Yunho’s end and that’s when you realized he didn’t mean to call you in the first place.

And you should've hung up there. But you didn’t and so you listened to their entire conversation and realized one thing: 

Mingi was right. You are a dumbass. 

And Yunho is even dumber, but that’s something you would have to rub on his face when you gather the courage to see him again. That day is not today, you made sure of it. 

You see, you’ve changed just a tiny bit these past three months. It’s not like you went to a spiritual retreat but by crafting that proposal while fleeing your feelings and the mess that you made with just one kiss, you came around something you never experienced before. Not fully, at least: 

Freedom. 

You spent Christmas and New Years all alone, with no one dear to you around and you saw the fireworks from your hotel window and you felt and suddenly you understood what Yunho sees in in sleeping in that tiny dorm with a roommate and a pile of dirty clothes in a corner, with no pushing their way into the room to pick his messes up and no one making sure he eats at the correct time, the correct meals and the correct porcelain for the day.

No rules, no conditions, just a place where he can be free and himself. 

You did all of that while also making sure you didn’t abandon your priorities. You went to sleep late because you wanted to and then you went to bed early the next day because there were no rules, no events you needed to attend to, no photographers asking you to smile.

There was no one to tell you that you looked fat after eating one delicious, non dietetic meal. There was no devil (your mom) whispering in your ear how everyone would notice the carbs, the bloat and the tiny zits. 

There was no one there to stop you from cutting your hair. And so you did. What once was kept long and straight in order to keep a traditional, clean look, now rested in waves on your shoulders,

It makes it so much easier to walk out of the shower, in less time too! 

And although your heart yearned for Yunho everyday, especially after hearing his conversation with Mingi at two in the morning when you weren’t even supposed to, it was the first time in years you felt happy enough to drop the mask, the pretences, the good posture and even the makeup. 

Yup, you went out without makeup three times! That’s some information that would send your mother into cardiac arrest at the very least. 

So now, as you try to move fast through a college campus that’s not yours, with a box that contains something you call an apology and it might not even be, your heart is beating with the same amount of strength just at the thought of all this backfiring. 

Because you’re not ready to see Yunho, not yet. You want him to come and find you, to come and tell you if he wants to accept you back into his life, under his terms, after you so insistently kicked him out of yours. 

You sneakily checked his calendar. You bribed your assistant, who bribed his assistant, so now his schedule for the week is in a screenshot on your phone and you have checked it four times to confirm this is a good time to be here. 

He has dinner with his family and yours (who don’t even know you’re back yet) at his house, on the hill, which is forty minutes away from his campus. That’s exactly the window of opportunity you’ve been waiting for since coming back. 

And you came back a week ago. 

You may or may not have memorized the code for the door from that only time you came to his dorm and so it’s not really a surprise when you quickly enter it and hear a screech behind you when you are busy closing the door. 

When you turn around, Yeosang is shirtless and covering his chest with his hands “Y/N!”

“Yeosang.” You say with a small bow, struggling to not laugh and turning your face away, looking at the postered up wall. “So nice to see you here, in your room.” 

“W-what are you… I mean how do you… Should I call Yun—” 

“No!” When you turn to him again, eyes wide with worry, he has a shirt on and his phone in his hand. “Please don’t… Let me do something real quick and then you can speak to him, okay?” 

You start to fumble with the box, placing it at the end of the bed and opening it up fast. You throw the lid on top of Yeosang’s bed and then get to work, pulling everything out. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I hate lying to my friends, Y/N.”

“And you’re such a great friend for that but you won’t be lying to him because I’m not asking you to do that.” 

“I wouldn’t even if you did ask me to.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that…” 

Okay, so you changed a little bit. Not a lot. 

You sigh, struggling with the placement of your gift/apology because Yunho changed his sheets and so the color scheme it’s not perfect anymore. 

“What’s all of this?” 

“Yunho enjoys dancing,” you start and you see him nod from the corner of your eye, so you smile. “He told me he did it to have this dorm but I didn’t buy it at all, and so when I was on my trip I… Sort of thought of him a little bit, not a lot.” You clear your throat, a slight heat creeping up your cheeks. “But I didn’t want to wait another day without giving this to him. I just… I can’t exactly be here when he sees it.” 

You finish, turning back to Yeosang and you realize you’re out of breath, nervousness creasing your brows. 

“Would you please let me know how he reacts to it the next time we see each other?” You ask softly, almost shy and Yeosang visibly relaxes at the tone. It makes you feel understood somehow and so you relax a little bit, too. “If you’re here when he gets here I mean, um, you are all dressed up.” 

When you point to his outfit, he seems to remember that he was, in fact, getting ready to go out when you walked in. His hair is wet but styled and all. 

“Oh, I was… I was just going to the club.” He points to a camcorder on his beat and you raise a curious brow, but don’t really ask anything. “I’m making a dance documentary for one of my classes. Yunho is in it, too.” 

That peaks your interest and he laughs, possibly at the way you light up at the mention of your fake-boyfriend-possible-love-of-your-life name. “He is?” 

“Yes, he’s… A big part of it, actually, but I go to this club to get footage and… You should ask him to explain it to you.” 

Now, at that, your smile sure turns sour because there’s no actual way of knowing if he wants to see you again or not. 

After all, he didn’t attempt to contact you after that phone call. 

You don’t know if he noticed that he called you, either. 

It’s kind of killing you inside, all the space you need to fill with assumptions instead of facts. 

“Sure, um…” 

“I can stay until he comes back.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to ruin your plans for the night, Yeosang. You should go and—”

“I want to see it. I want to record it,” he explains, looking over your shoulder and into the gift in Yunho’s bed. “He says he’s not sure, but I think he wants to dedicate his life to it, you know?” 

“To dancing?” 

Yeosang nods. 

Your voice sounds very small when you ask him “Do you think he’s going to like it?” 

He smiles, softly, endeared almost.

“He’s going to love it,” he assures you, “And your haircut, too.” 

You chuckle at that, touching the ends of it that rest on your shoulder “You think?” 

“Yeah! It suits you, actually.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.” 

This time, and after making small talk with his roommate, you leave Yunho’s dorm with a smile on your face instead of tears running down your cheeks. 

There’s exhaustion pouring out of Yunho by the time he reaches his dorm door. He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against the cool wood of it and lets out a sigh to collect himself. He needs to have the energy to take a shower, after all. 

It’s not as late as he expected it to be, the digital clock on the wall glows blue and neon and lets him know it’s around nine thirty. Good, that’s great. 

He misses you. 

And it’s hard not to think of you when he’s surrounded with people who know you, who bring you up when it’s time to talk about positive results for the company, or the time you organized an event for you mother because your brother had no taste to pick the venue or catering or whatever the fuck they were going on about tonight. 

It didn’t escape him that Sukwon glanced at him every time your parents brought you up and he wonders if it shows in his face just how much he longs to see you again.

He’s thinking about your face when the room unexpectedly lights up and Yeosang is standing on his own bed, in the corner, smiling like a creep. Yunho almost falls as a curse slips past his lips and he stares at his friend like something is deeply wrong with him. 

Because it is. 

It’s almost comical how breathless he is as he asks him: “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Hey!” 

“—Standing in the corner like a serial killer.”

“Turn around, Yunho.” 

“What?” 

“Turn,” he repeats, slowly, as he climbs out of the bed, the camera pointed in his direction still. “Around.” 

So he does. 

And what he sees… Confuses him. Until it doesn’t. 

There’s a few things on his bed: There’s some polaroid pictures lined up, different people he doesn’t know in them, all in different traditional attire and Yunho can see there’s inscription in them, the dates all read from early november to two weeks ago. 

There’s tickets to a competition that’s supposed to be sold out. He knows, he tried to get a ticket the second they announced it but couldn’t. The top dance teams are going to battle for some bucks but, most importantly, they’re going to battle to keep the dying scene alive. 

A book titled Why Dance Matters next to a golden retriever plushie with a suit that makes him giggle out of the pure weirdness of it. 

There’s a copy of grease with some signatures in the front. He can make out something that reads as Barry Pearl in it, he thinks. His mind reels at what that means. 

A cd in a clear case with a beautiful sunset and a building he recognizes immediately as the orphanage you took him to. Six silhouettes he can only imagine symbolizes him, Jaemi, Hyunjoon, his brother, Soyi and you. 

But what confirms it’s something you did, it’s the envelope that sits in the middle of it all. It's waxed and sealed with something that looks regal, elegant and, when he picks it up to see the seal up close, he smells your perfume. 

He turns to Yeosang, eyes watery, in request of an explanation. 

“Open it! I’ve been dying to read it but I’m a great friend,” Yeosang almost wiggles with excitement and Yunho’s eyes water a little. “Or so she said.” 

“She was here?” 

“Y/N?” His friend asks in return, weirded out. “Well, yes.” 

“When?” 

“An… hour and something ago.” 

“Where did she go?” 

“Are you okay?” 

He’s speechless, envelope shaking a bit in his hand as he pushes the need to run to you away. He doesn’t know what this means, he doesn’t know what the letter says either. His heartbeats are thumping on his ears and muffling Yeosang’s words a little bit. 

He needs to calm down. 

He needs to read the letter. He’s–

“You’re crying,” Yeosang turns off the camcorder, closing the screen and tossing it softly on his bed before taking a few steps in his direction. Concern is written all over his face, a little bit of guilt too. “I shouldn’t have let her in, right? I knew something was off with you but I had no idea that you two had fought or—” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Yunho quickly dries off his tears, shaking his head at his friend’s anxious apology. “I just… I missed her so much, Yeo.” 

“Oh.” 

“So fucking much.” 

“Yunho…” He closes his eyes and jumps a little a Yeosang’s sudden embrace, but he’s grateful for it. Envelope trap between his chest and Yeosang’s rib, he takes a bated breath filled with things he can’t quite burden his friend with. 

He remembers Mingi’s words loud and clear, but the only thing Yunho wants to do right now is find where you are so he can see you again. Hug you again. Kiss you again. 

That night, after he realized he had dialed your number by mistake, he had a full on breakdown in Wooyoung’s room and it took Mingi and Mingi’s girlfriend to talk him out of fleeing the country out of embarrassment, out of guilt. He thought back then he had definitely lost you, because the consensus the three of them came to was a ‘let her reach you if she wants to clear things out’ instead of a ‘call her and explain it yourself before she has the chance to reach out to you first’. 

Mingi said you had to at least prove you had any interest in making things right, in fighting to at least keep your friendship with him. 

As he opens up the letter, he immediately knows he should’ve just called you. 

He even forgets Yeosang is right beside him, looking away to give him some privacy to read your words without actually letting go of the embrace, just in case he needs it. Yunho knows this, he’s thankful, his legs shaking with need to go after wherever you are. 

And he’s about to ask again but, as he turns his head to regard his friend and explains the letter a little, he’s one step ahead of him. 

“She’s staying in a hotel, not her house.” Yunho opens and closes his mouth, about to ask him the name of the hotel when he shakes his head. “The luxury one in Itaewon. What? Did you think I would let her go without getting the information first?” 

Yunho shrugs, Yeosang clicks his tongue in disappointment, letting go of him and putting, at least, ten steps between the both of them. 

“She’s very talkative when she’s not with a big crowd, Yun. Now move.” 

“I think I—” He starts to say but stops midway, looking down at the letter and then at his friend again. 

Yeosang gives him a soft smile, the one he curves on his lips when he’s endeared with something, with someone. Yunho went clubbing with him once, he knows the smile very well. 

“I know,” he says in a murmur and then sighs like it’s a task to be around him. “Now, let’s go. We’re going to the same area anyway and I could use the ride. There’s the box.” 

In the car (one he ordered from an app, not his family car), his leg moves up and down and his hands tremble with anticipation and, as the imposing structure of the hotel comes into view while he stares at the window, he swears he feels at ease. 

For the first time in months, he feels like he’s home. 

And it’s all because he’s about to see you again. 

Yeosang is not a very discreet person. He’s soft spoken and he looks like he cares about his friend’s a great deal, but he has that clumsiness of a person who’s used to being transparent about things. 

He asked you if you just got home with a spark of hopefulness in his eye, like he couldn’t wait to clue in Yunho about it, like he knew what he was going to do when he read your letter and saw your gift. 

Yeosang asked you like Yunho had already forgiven you and that had filled you silly head with warmth and hope and expectations you shouldn’t have because, as far as you noticed, Yunho is not the most honest friend to have. 

So you asked yourself if Yeosang knew about the fight, if the rest of his friends knew. 

And you still told Yeosang where you are staying. 

There’s only one lamp helping with lighting up the bedroom, the city outside of it alive and busy like it always is. The amount of lights beyond the river bring you comfort, something familiar spreads on your chest when you take them in and you admit, for the first time in three months plus the week you’ve been staying here, that you love this stupid city even if it makes you feel trapped most of your days.

But here? In this space that you have made yours over the last seven days? You love it. 

Your hair is wet and your face is clean of any product. You told yourself to go about your night routine like you weren’t expecting something else to happen. That way, when it doesn’t because you feel that what you did is unforgivable as much as it is cruel, you won’t be as disappointed. 

So your face is moisturized and you have your nightgown underneath the silk bath this hotel provides and you’re totally not thinking about Yunho being in the same city as you, you are totally not freaking out over the reaction to your gift, you’re chill. 

You’re chilling, you’re cool. 

And the way your heart leaps when you hear a knock at the door means nothing, because you ordered room service like thirty minutes ago. It’s fine. 

He’s probably not showing up. 

So why the hell is he there when you open the door? And where’s your room service when you need it? 

“Yunho!” 

“Y/N…” 

The atmosphere turns weird and tense right away and you grab onto the frame of the door as he stares at you with indecipherable emotion in his eyes. Is he happy to see you? Is he here to curse you out? 

Is he mad? He’s totally upset at you. He is, he’s… Skinnier, just a little bit. His hair is lighter, too, like a brownish blond that suits him and his skin tone and he looks so good even if there’s dark circles under his eyes. 

You missed him so much. 

“Come in! Um…” You say after what feels like hours of silence, of you two just staring at each other with a little disbelief, opening up the room door wider and stepping aside so he can pass right by you. 

His cologne makes you a little dizzy, drives you a little crazier but there’s not enough time to focus on that because he has the box you left earlier in his dorm in one hand and your letter in the other. 

You close the door, taking in a little calming breath that does nothing to appease the erratic beat of your heart. 

The eighty two square meters of this room suddenly feel like ten and when he puts the box down on the coffee table of the immediate tiny living room space of this suite, you feel like it’s over. 

He turns around, a hand on his hip and the shade that the lamp casts on him doesn’t allow you to determine if he’s clenching his jaw or not, if he’s upset or not, if he’s—

Yunho raises his hand, the one holding your letter. 

“What’s this?” 

Oh, he’s so upset. Okay, good, you foresaw this the moment you decided to give him something. It’s okay, you tell yourself as you walk the steps separating you and take the letter from his hand, you can deal with this. 

And, although you have changed a little in the months you didn’t see him, there’s a long way to go before your defensiveness stops being the only way you know how to approach a situation targeting you and your ego. 

“If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just thrown it away or burned it, Yunho, you didn’t have to come all the way here—” 

“Read it to me.” 

You look up at him, blinking once and then twice at his request. 

“Didn’t you—” 

“Princess,” he says, letting out a tiny breath in between his words, “read it to me. Please.” 

Now that you’re physically closer to him, you can pick up this gentleness in his features that you know well. It’s the same expression he had back in the orphanage, when Jiwoo took Jaemi in her arms and he was left staring at you with his cheek pressed on his forearm while he rested on the table. You think about that exact moment a lot, late at night, when the only thing overwhelming your thoughts it’s him. 

You swallow the lump on your throat down as you take out the letter from the envelope. It’s a little dark but there’s really no need for you to read the words when you know them by heart. You wrote and rewrote them at least a hundred times before deciding the letter looked good and that it wasn’t too long, too obnoxious, too sweet, too cringy. Just the right amount of emotion in case it came to bite you in the ass, like now. 

“S-sure,” you let out a sigh, past caring if he sees you’re a little affected by the situation as a whole. “Yunho, I’m sure you’re reading this after seeing the gift layed out in front of you. Take it as an expression of gratitude for all the times the mere thought of you got me through a day, even in this time when we’re supposed to be upset at each other. I think about you a lot and I think about what I did, too. I’m— This all sounds to stupid and formal,” you criticize your own work without thinking it through, frowning and looking up at him. “This letter is supposed to be an apology and it reads like an email.” 

Yunho shakes his head, a tiny smile tugging on his lips. “Go on, please.” 

Sniffing because you feel uncomfy and vulnerable, you continue.  

“I’m sure you’re wondering why now and not three months ago. Well, it takes a lot for me to defy the expectations people put on my shoulders. As you know, my last name is laced with success I didn’t work on and letting go of things you’re used to is hard, but I did. I went away, I learned, I grew up a little bit and in my journey the only constant was you. Not the fight we had, not the way we have treated each other throughout the many years I’ve known you. I’ve always seen your life from the outside even if I was a part of it, I’ve seen your social media posts and wondered if I wasn’t deserving of the same kindness you display to your friends on them but, as you proved to me that I am deserving of it, I understood that it wasn’t your voice in my head telling me I didn’t, it was mine.

“Not my mother’s voice, not anyone else's, but mine. Accepting that was hard but I did it and I did it on my own but as a result of the impact you had on me the second you turned around and held me with the care I now think I deserve.” Something drops on the paper, wets it and blends the ink of the pen you used together and you realize there’s tears running down your cheeks. “I can’t ask you to forgive me for what I did. But just know that I kissed you because I wanted to, not because you were being kind to me. And I pushed you away because, out of everyone that has come and gone from my life, you’re the only person who has the possibility to break my heart and mend it the times you seem fit…” 

You look up and to the side to wipe your tears. You’d pat yourself on the back for how you read this to him, without any stutters or mistakes, but the truth it’s that melancholy swallows you as you reach the end of the letter. It’s more emotional than what you’d remembered, too, now that you’re reading it outloud and in front of the man you love. 

There’s no need for you to read what comes next because you want to say it looking at him. 

“And I’m sorry. I love you and I don’t love you just because we kissed or because we are forced to be together. I love you because you’re part of me, because you’ve always been. I love you and I can’t stand to lose you. Again, I’m sorry,” you repeat, looking down at the words again before finishing in a whisper: “Yours, Y/N.” 

There’s this pregnant silence that follows that makes you fidget on your feet. It takes a second for you to gather yourself together again, wipe your cheeks and look up at Yunho. There’s disbelief in his expression and you wince in preparation for what’s about to follow. 

“Like I said,” you start again, extending the letter to him so he can take it, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to do anything, really, a-and I understand if this is all too childish or too cringy for you to say something back. I don’t need you to say something back! Really, I don’t,” you laugh amidst the sudden verbal vomit and shrug, not even looking at him anymore. “I j-just wanted you to know. And I mean it: If you don’t want me that way, it’s completely fine, Jeong. I also settle for being your friend, i-if that’s easier for everyone— For you, if that’s easier for you,” you correct yourself, “because I don’t really care what anyone thinks anymore, including my mother, she can go fuck herself and she can win all she wants if that means keeping you in my life and—” 

He grabs the letter and in a second he uses the tight hold you have on it to push you closer, tearing the paper in the process. 

“Kim Y/N, you big dummy.” 

He lets go of the letter and you do too, hands resting on his chest as you stumble forward a little, the paper falling to your feet as his right hand settles on your cheek, the left one on the nape of your neck. 

“Excuse me?” 

Yunho laughs, breathy and pointed while his eyes scan your face. “You heard me.” 

“Are trying to piss me off, Jeong Yun—” 

This time, when Yunho kisses you, it doesn’t feel new. It doesn’t feel like defiance, it doesn’t feel like you’re breaking the rules or letting your mom win. 

It feels like coming come. 

The ache in your soul stops the second his lips move against yours, deliciously slow and firm while he holds you close. His hands shift, they move the satin robe as they descend and find their place on your back, on your hip. Your chest collides with his with a soft nudge forwards and you sigh against his mouth, welcoming the way his hands tighten on you, feeling finally at ease in his embrace. 

You thought, when preparing his gift, writing the apology letter and then earlier at his dorm, that your self control was something to be admired. Yeah, you love him deeply and all, but you had the restraint to give him the opportunity to decide what he wanted to do with all the things you told him. 

Now you think that there’s nothing in the world that could stop you from kissing his lips raw, from pulling his hair a bit when your fingers tangle in it, from drinking the sound you get in return. 

Fuck your self control. You want Yunho like you never wanted anyone or anything before. 

That’s why you’re grateful when he pumps the break, lips leaving yours and breath on your lips. When you open your eyes, he’s already staring at you. With the way he’s holding you, you barely have to get on your tippy toes to nuzzle his nose against yours with care and the action reminds you of that day at the office, before you fucked up, but the feeling is way different. 

This time, your gut tells you that whatever is about to happen with the two of you is something that’s going to linger, that he’s going to stay one way or another and your heart thumps loudly at the thought of having Yunho in your life forever. 

Four months ago, the thought would’ve given you a headache. 

Now, it heats up your cheeks as his hands return to your face. 

“I’m sorry, I had to kiss you. I also should’ve gone after you that night, in my dorm, I— I’m also sorry, Y/N,” he lets go of you softly, putting a step in between the two of you so he can take your hands in his. “I’m sorry I cornered you in the office and I’m sorry I expected you to just… Drop all of your beliefs and convictions for me. That’s the most delusional thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s okay—”

“But I love you,” he breathes out and you feel like the air it’s been knocked out of your lungs. “I’m a big pretender, you know? I… I try to be as positive as someone can be, I try to be aloof and I ignore a bunch of things in order to let myself be distracted from what my family expects of me, so I couldn’t understand when you didn’t want to do the same. I do now.

“And I don’t let myself enjoy a bunch of things either, Y/N, but I do allow myself little moments of happiness. When I’m with my friends or when I dance, I tend to have those little moments and then I allowed myself to see you in a new light and I… If I thought those two things brought me some sort of respite from my sorrows, I had no idea you of all people could feel like… Like…”

“Home?” You offer, your voice a sweet whisper full of understanding. 

“Like home.”

He swallows tightly, averting his eyes to the floor for a second. 

“I’m sorry for not returning that call,” he says, his brows creasing a little bit, “I took advice from drunk people in love, so I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you come to me.” 

“I was doing the same,” you whisper back, shrugging his worries away. “Letting you come to me, that is. I couldn’t even— I mean, I should’ve given you all of this in person instead of dropping it off like a scaredy cat.” 

“You did hear the conversation though?” 

“Yeah. Mingi called me a dumbass and I’m not going to forgive him.” 

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “He was right, a little bit.” 

“He called you dumber,” you return, frowning at his jab even though you know he didn’t intend any ill with it. “So yeah, you could say he was right.” 

There’s a few seconds where he just stares: at your hands, twined together with ease and familiarity. At your face, a loving smile lifts the corners of his mouth up before he steps closer again and lets his thumbs trace the curve of your mouth, your cheekbone, your nose. 

“I missed you so much, my love.” 

Oh.

Fuck. 

You warm to the pet name immediately, its significance running through you like a shudder and making you gasp softly, almost imperceptibly. You guess it shows on your expression, the smile on Yunho’s lips widening as his knuckle presses on your cheek gently. 

“You liked that I called you that?”

“Shut up.”

“My love,” he repeats, pecking your lips, “I love you. I’ve… I actually don’t know if I’ve loved you this way all this time, but I’m sure I loved you to some degree. I cared— I care about you.” 

You tear up again. 

That voice that tells you that you don’t deserve him comes back, a distant murmur of it this time, but it’s still there. 

For a good reason, too. 

“Forgive me for being so horrible to you all these years,” he makes a face, like he can’t believe you’re apologizing for that right now. “I wish I could say I did it because I was a vain, stupid child but it was all very much thought through.” 

“I know.”

“And I was horrible. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now, I—”

His lips press softly against yours again. “Stop it. I was horrible to you too, we were both stupid and childish and we had our reasons.”

“Did we, though?” Your nose scrunches while you truly think about all the times you could’ve been nicer to each other and chose to be mean instead. 

His eyes water a little. You frown, fingers tightening around his wrists, you turn to kiss his palm. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I just love you a lot,” he sniffs and you catch with your knuckle the tears that roll down his cheeks. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath and untensing his shoulders at the same time. “And it feels so good to be able to say it.” 

“When did you figure it out?” Curiosity takes over you for a second, you allow yourself to wonder about it without any guilt now. 

He hums, thinking about it with a pout on his lips “Like I said, I think I’ve always loved you to some degree. I just… Didn’t know it. I’ve never loved anyone like this before but I think that when I saw you with Jaemi and my heart felt like it was about to come out of my mouth, I kind of knew.” 

“So when I kissed you…”

“I knew,” he nods, “and I should’ve been more insistent when I was trying to talk to you. Go to your house, do something, but I’m… A little inexperienced in this type of stuff.” 

“Because you have no bitc—”

You’re already giggling before he interrupts. “And you love me like I am, so now what?” 

The smile on your lips is so wide you have to look to the side, focus on the shadow of the chair in the tiny living room space for a second to compose yourself. 

It doesn’t really work, because he’s smiling as hard when you turn back to him. 

And then, for the first time since he got here, he seems to notice the length of your hair. He brushes it back with his fingers, the strands barely damp now, and gasps when he reaches the tips at your shoulders. “You cut it!”

With a nod, you laugh at his sudden surprise. “I did, I’m about to get disowned.” 

“Oh, your mom is going to pass out at the very least.” He agrees right away and you laugh again before he joins, his teeth nipping at his lower lip for a second. “She’ll forgive you, though.”

“You think so?”

“You look too beautiful to stay mad at you for long.” 

Oh, your poor heart. You shake your head, diverting the attention from you by brushing the strands of his hair that rest on his forehead back. 

“Blond?” 

“Kind of, yeah. It’s this… Honey something that my hairdresser suggested.” 

Humming, you let your fingernails scratch his scalp gently as they go down, hands resting on his shoulder when you’re done. “They did a great job,” you say before you click your tongue, cocking your head to the side. “Are you sure they weren’t just calling you honey and you misunderstood?” 

His brow lifts, the corner of his lips does as well and he’s ducking his head so he can speak in that cocky tone of his you’re so used to. Only this time, there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“And If they did?” 

You know what he’s asking, you know why he’s asking. You find yourself curious about this type of teasing on his behalf, so you allow it to happen.

In your own terms.

“Did it happen?” You return, leaning even closer, hands grasping the lapel of his suit jacket and tugging on it, pretending to smooth it out with your palms afterwards. 

“Princess…” 

When you look at him, there’s this fiery energy that crosses his expression and it makes your imagination run wild with possibilities. 

Now that you both got through the emotional part of your reunion with tears, with overdue confessions and very necessary apologies, what’s left to resolve is this pent up tension that’s always been something more. With the way Yunho behaves sometimes, so proud and tough, you have a vague idea of what it could be like. 

And it makes you giddy with anticipation. 

You would like to turn your assumptions into facts. So you play dumb, fakely perking up when he calls you, blinking with pretend innocence a few times to sell the act. “Hm?” 

Catching the way his jaw ticks at your behavior, you realize that the rush that went through your body every time you got under his skin was not out of the pleasure of winning. 

It was because you liked it. 

Very much so, that the way his eyes scan over your body like he's deciding what to do with you and your attitude make you let out a tiny puff of air that he drinks right up when he crowds you again, hands on your hips and lips on yours once more. 

His mouth doesn't move with any trace of carefulness anymore. Before, you were able to tell he needed to kiss you, longingly, with all the things he couldn't say before on his lips against yours. Now, his tongue makes its way past your teeth and swipes against yours in a way that makes you stumble backwards, almost leaving the tight squeeze of his hands behind. 

Yunho catches you, walks with you until you feel the arm of the tiny couch supporting your weight as well. 

He leans in a little bit to help you up on it, his body immediately in between your legs, his palms making their way downwards. One is on your lower back, thumb absentmindedly caressing the area, and the other one is pressing right next to your leg on the couch so he can bite your lower lip and give both your lungs a bit of a break before diving into your mouth again. You wrap your arms around his neck and keep him close. 

Closer, closer, closer. You need his body pressing against yours as you try to keep up with the intensity of his kisses. You've never been kissed like this before, never with so much love and passion and want and need. 

You've been kissed while drunk and touched while high in the past, you've been fucked by people you don't remember the names of and you had dropped the sleeping around once you graduated college. 

There's so much of your youth you wish you've done sober. Because now, when his tongue catches a soft moan and his hand moves from your lower back to your leg, under your robe, you don't know why you freak out. 

No, you know exactly why. 

Breaking the kiss, you take two seconds to look at the plush of Yunho’s lips after being deliciously smothered with yours. You're both breathing hard, chests rising and falling in tandem and gasps for air filling the room. 

His hand moves higher, measuring your reaction and you know he's about to ask if it's okay to touch you when you grab his wrist and stop his movements. 

“We don't have to—” 

“Is not that,” you say right away but you're both speaking over each other. 

“I mean, there's a lot we need to talk about. I want you to tell me about your trip and—” 

“Sure, we can do that later,” you nod. “Right now, I'm— I mean, let me turn off the light and you can touch me all you want.” 

He frowns. 

“What?” 

Heart picking up for a different reason now, you clear your throat and try to cough the anxiety away. You can talk to him about these things, it's okay. It doesn't really matter how embarrassed you feel once the words come out of your mouth. 

“Um, I went up a few pounds while on the trip and— And that's a good thing!” You say when he looks at you like he's about to tell you that it's okay. “I ate whatever I wanted, it was great, really. I just…” 

“You did?” He asks in a soft, excited whisper.

“I don't know if you'll, um, i-if you're going to like it.” You finish, blinking the shame away. 

Yunho’s expression softens and you take it as an agreement. You've only been touched in the dark, anyways, so you push into his chest a little bit and off his embrace (even if you don't really want to) and start moving towards the only light casting shadows on the room. 

Only to be tugged right back by a firm hand on your arm.

With his chest against you and his lips grazing your ear, you can barely help the way you shudder. There's something hard poking your ass and the apparent size of it has you gulping, salivating even. 

But you have to turn off the light. 

“Come here,” he murmurs and softly moves the both of you to stand in front of the mirror that's next to the entrance. 

Even if you tried not to, it's something you've been avoiding the whole time you've stayed here. The mirror is huge, floor to ceiling and its position it's very elegant, very fitting for the purpose of this suit that's supposed to be reserved for people who need different outfits for different events. 

You haven't really used it other than quickly checking your clothes earlier today, before leaving to go to the dorm and, even then, it was only a quick ten seconds.

It stings a little that, although you've made progress, your body and the way you perceive it still have such a grip on you. When you add the man your heart desires to the mix? Well, there's little to nothing you can do to let go of your insecurities.

The heat of Yunho's body leaves you for a second and he's turning another light, the one closest to the entrance, adjusting its intensity so the ambiance is not broken by the bright glow of it. 

You gulp again when he returns, but melt into his chest when he presses his body against yours again. 

How can you feel so comfortable with him but so uncomfortable with yourself? It's weird, it's strangely very you but you can't even tell him that because the intensity of his gaze when you catch it in the mirror shuts you right up. 

You know he's telling you to listen to him, to notice how serious he is about this as his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“I've called you ugly before, right? I've have actively contributed to your insecurities in a way that I'm not going to forgive myself for, ever,” he starts and the direct approach to it makes you teary eyed all over again. He notices, lips finding your shoulder to comfort you. “The thing is, Y/N, that I never actually meant it. I think I was pissed off because you were— and are so fucking beautiful.” 

You close your eyes and let out a pleading sigh “Yunho…” 

“No,” he says and you feel how he shakes his head, his chin still on your shoulder. “Someone needs to tell you this. You live in your head way too much.” 

He understands. 

You love him so much. 

“Open your eyes, princess.” 

You do. 

“Look at yourself.” 

You don't. You look at him instead. 

He's staring at you through the mirror and he straightens his back to rest his cheek against your temple, the height difference at his advantage because, this way you have to look up at him and it will give away the pure rejection you have for your reflection. 

“I don't think I've ever found someone as beautiful as I found you. When I realized that, that was what pissed me off… Well, I think I somehow buried the thought away but you are so breathtakingly pretty, Y/N.” He takes in a breath and you lose yours, his hand resting on your hip going up and tracing the curve of your waist. “But it doesn't really matter what I think, it matters what you think, hm?” 

Turning his head, his nose presses against your skin now and he leans in, nuzzling softly, with care, until his lips peck your jaw. 

“I can assure you that you can go up a hundred pounds, go down, up again and I wouldn't care. It doesn't matter, I have found you beautiful in every version that you have presented yourself in and I will find you beautiful if you change your whole appearance everyday. I love you,” he reminds you, “and I love everything that you bring along with you. Insecurities, panic attacks and clever insults to my clothing included.” 

The chuckle that you let out makes him smile against your cheek and he gives you a little peck before putting some space between your face and his. He looks you up and down in the mirror again and you can see genuine want in the way his pupils dilate. You see it happening in real time but then you also see his self-restraint. 

You're at a loss for words, but manage to mumble out “Thank you, Yunho.” And then you turn your head, catching his lips in a soft closed mouth kiss that he returns right away. 

“Whenever you're ready to let me prove how beautiful I find you, I'll be here.” He says when you let his mouth move away from yours, your lips softly pecking his jaw instead and getting a sigh in return. “I can wait.” 

Then, the worst thing happens: His hands leave your body and he starts to step away. 

It's a little embarrassing how quickly your entire being protests and you realize that there's a clinginess to you that you're not so sure where it came from. You reach for him, barely turning, and tug him right where he was. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you enjoy the genuine surprise on his expression and the way it turns into desire when you put his hands on you again: on your stomach, on your hip. 

When you turn your head to look at him directly, his eyes stay fixated on the reflection. His hand on your stomach turns, knuckles softly caressing you. You want to ask him what he likes about that but don't, instead, you tell him what goes on inside your head. 

“Yunho, I do want you. I want you… But I also want to make sure that you like me.” 

He looks at you then, mouth ready to reassure you again but you shake your head to shut him up. 

“I heard you,” you confirm, smiling a bit and then closing your eyes at the visage that accompanies the concept of your body in your mind. You know it's far from what it actually looks like but that also means that you don't know exactly what it looks like and that's terrifying. “I know you love me but would you like me?” 

“I do,” you hear the frown in his voice and take a deep breath before opening your eyes again. “Princess, do you trust me?” 

You nod without a second thought and he leans in, nose almost touching yours. 

“Would you let me show you how much I like you?”

It takes a second or two, but you nod again.

“And would you let me know if it's too much?” 

“Yes,” you breath out, too intoxicated by the closeness, by the way his lips softly trace yours without actually kissing them to think about the implication of his words. 

When he pulls away again, you let out a sound that gives away how much you want him. Yunho’s lips curve and when your eyes finally focus on his again, you can see the quick decision he makes as he looks at the mirror again, resolve and purpose in his expression as he takes off the jacket of his three piece, tossing it on the sofa. 

There's something magnetic in the way he rolls his sleeves up, securing them in his forearms and your eyes follow the motions and trace the veins that you're able to see before he turns away from you. 

He takes one of the chairs he's able to easily mov, placing it behind you both. You realize you've walked a few steps closer to the mirror, and so your back is pressed against it when his attention returns to you, when he takes your face with his hands and crushes his lips against yours without explaining what he just did. 

You brace himself on his forearms, nails pressing on his skin because somehow this kiss feels different. Its pace is not hard to keep up with but it feels like you are, the care he puts in his movements as his palms brush your hair back slowly and then go down, down until they're reaching the knot that keeps your robe closed. 

This time, instead of panic, you feel your stomach flutter. Butterflies all over, there's goosebumps on your skin when he tugs the robe open and feels the satin of your pajamas with his fingers. He makes a noise and, at first, you think it's out of protest because you're not already undressed for him.

But then his knuckles trace the hem of the nightgown and he makes the noise again, tongue flicking against yours harder, getting a moan out of you.

Yunho’s lips find your cheek, your jaw, nipping at the skin of your neck and over your pulse when he gets to it and you close your eyes, head falling against the mirror and head moving to the side so he can kiss every inch of skin if he wants. 

“You smell so fucking good.” 

That makes you smile, a droopy curve to your lips before you bite a sound back “I showered.” 

“You always do,” he whispers into your skin, lips finding your ear. “You always have. Do you know how many times I had to control myself around you?” 

“Hm,” you muse, pretending to think about it. “Do you know how many times you had to?” 

“Oh, trust me princess, I know.” 

He pulls back and you open your eyes. You wonder if yours are carrying the same intensity as his when they go down your body, taking your sleepwear in. 

It's a simple blue v-neck slip dress with some floral lace at the trim lines. It splits on the sides and falls mid-thigh. Something very basic in your opinion, but you don't miss the way his eyes are glued to the skin of your thigh. You're not wearing a bra and your nipples are painfully hard. 

“I didn't actually expect you to come to me tonight,” you lie a little, lips turning up into a shy smile. “So I didn't—” 

“Is this what you wear to sleep?” He interrupts and you watch him gulp. 

“Mhm.” 

“Every night?” 

“Something like this,” you tug at the fabric, softly, “yes.” 

“Fuck.” 

You giggle in return at how affected he seems, but the amusement dies when his eyes return to yours. Holding your hand, he takes a step back and then another and another until he's falling with a thump on the chair he brought close. 

He takes you in one more time before letting go of your hand and manspreading on the chair “Come here, princess.” 

The tone of his voice makes your entire being shake and you take in a breath before following his command. Which is crazy because you never, ever would've followed an order from him. 

But now you can't help yourself. 

Standing in between his legs, you can see when he holds the arms of it after attempting to touch you as soon as you get close enough for him to be able to reach you and, when you're about to straddle his lap, he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in response. 

You understand what he wants immediately and you turn around, watching your reflection in the mirror as you sit down on his legs that he managed to close again in the three seconds it took you to do so. 

You're breathing hard by the time he accommodates you both on the chair, his very clear erection pressing against your ass and lower back and making you dizzy at what you're looking at. 

The image on the mirror is clear, it allows you to see both your reaction and his reaction when you fidget without thinking about it on his lap and the friction it causes brings you a whisper of pleasure. 

“You're a dream, Y/N,” he says and you can tell it came out of his mouth without really thinking about it. Finally, he moves his hands and his nails press on the skin of your shoulders, goosebumps evident and tremor barely concealable when he drags them down the length of your arm and over your hands that rest on top of your knees. 

He covers them with his and you stop following his movements in the mirror to look at his face “Can I?” 

You swallow and then nod and he giggles, this hard facade he has on slipping as he presses a reassuring kiss to your shoulder “Can you say it, my love?” 

“Yes,” you say quickly, your voice betraying you “Please.” 

He closes his eyes, a curse under his breath. “Don't beg me, princess, I got you.” 

You can't help but be curious and, although this is something you can find out as the night goes on, you end up wondering out loud either way: “Why? You don't like it?” 

He shakes his head, that hardness in his expression returns when he opens his eyes to look at you and the curious glint of your expression through the mirror. 

“Do you enjoy it when I beg you, Yunho?” 

And then you slightly move on his lap, trying to pass it like an absentminded movement. 

He sees right through it and the realization shows on his face. 

“Ah,” he laughs, back falling against the chair and head lolling back, “are you going to be a brat, princess?” 

Your mouth quirks at the quick and accurate read he gives your attitude. 

“Of course you are.” 

Again, the bravery your amusement gives you is short lived. He uses his hands over yours to open your legs and his, fast, earning a surprised squeak out of you. Your first instinct is attempting to close them but he huffs and perches your legs on his. You loop your feet around them to avoid falling forward at the lack of things to hold on to. 

This way, your panties are on full display as well. They're simple cotton white panties and there's a wet patch in the middle of them that grows a little at the display, at the image you see in the mirror. 

Yunho curses under his breath again. 

“You're my dream,” he says, a little bit distracted again and then he remembers himself. “I don't like people begging me, I don't give them the time to.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you're about to protest because you don't want to hear about his encounters with anyone else, but he won't let you. 

“One time, I almost had a fight with a friend over teasing. You know her, Mingi's girlfriend,” he says and you don't know if he's smiling at the memory or at the way you squirm under his touch when his fingernails start dragging over the skin of your inner thighs slowly. “I told her the truth: I'm too impatient to tease. She said it's necessary, I said I never needed to tease anyone to get with them and it went on for almost an hour.” 

He reaches the plush that has formed on your inner thighs and you can physically feel your centre growing wetter. 

“I never got it,” he insists and, when he pretends that he's going to touch you where you need it the most only for his touch to go back down the expanse of your thighs, you let out dissatisfied huff. “Now I think I do.” 

“Yunho…”

“You wanted to beg?” He asks, mouth against your ear and hot breath on your cheek. “I can make you beg.” 

You give in almost immediately. 

“Please,” tongue wetting your lips, you attempt to move in order to get some sort of relief but he's quicker than you. Strong hands hold your hips steady and you puff out some air again. “Please touch me.” 

It's clear the whine on your voice affects him because he pants against your cheek, nudges your face with his nose and then dives with his lips to kiss your neck again. 

“Be still, princess.” He commands and you stop trying to wiggle against him, only to rest your back against his chest when he brings his hands down in a caress and holds you fully open for him again. “I got you, but do as I say.” 

He takes your nod as an answer this time and his lips travel down your neck, to the skin of your back and then your shoulder. You watch in the mirror as his teeth catch the strap of your nightgown and, when he speaks again, it's a little muffled because of it.

“Can I take this off you?” 

You take a breath before replying “Yes.” 

And then he slips the strap off your shoulder with his teeth and you swear you're ruined for everyone else entirely. 

There's no way anyone is going to make you tremble like he did just now.

He goes ahead and does the same to the other strap, hand quick in catching the gown from falling completely. 

“Should I?” 

“Yunho… Stop teasing me.” 

He chuckles and takes his time to redo what he just undone: he pulls the strap on your left shoulder up again, switches the hand that's holding your second to last piece of clothing up, and does the same to the other strap. 

“But you look so pretty in it.” 

Your skin heats up harder than ever before. 

“You look so pretty like this, all breathless and ready for me to touch you… Do you know how happy it makes me that I can touch you, princess? That you’re in my lap and not in my head?” 

You swallow back a whine “Y-you thought about me like this?” 

“I dreamed about you like this,” he kisses the nape of your neck and then focuses his attention on the shoulder he neglected before, “for months.” 

You hum in acknowledgement at his words, but your mind is elsewhere because his hands return to their ministrations on your inner thighs and it's hard to concentrate on anything else but the pad of his thumbs ghosting over your panties as they move. 

He finally concedes and lets his hands wander upwards until they get ahold of the hem of the nightgown and, in one swift movement, you're left in nothing but your underwear in front of him. 

Well, in front of the mirror. He's watching the reflection of your body carefully and you can barely spare a look at it, breath caught in your throat at his reaction. 

When he sees your naked torso, he fully lets out a moan. 

You feel slick rush out of you at the sound but don't turn to yourself to verify what exactly about you made him react that way, made him get even harder against your ass. 

“God, look at you.” 

Breathing hard, you turn your head slightly so that your nose touches his and you think he's about to drop it, give in and kiss you when you feel his thumb and index pressing against your cheek, turning your head to the reflection again. 

“Is this okay?” 

You know he's referring to the hold on your face and you mumble out a yes, still looking at him through the mirror. 

“I said, look at yourself.” 

You do. 

Legs open and still perched on top of his, white panties turning a little see through due to your arousement and nipples pebbled in full display, you allow yourself to enjoy the two seconds of clarity before your body starts to shape shift in your head, before your thoughts turn you undesirable and before you fall into your dysmorphia. 

Yunho is right there to catch you, though. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you're even allowing me to see you like this, Y/N?” 

The hold on your face relaxes and you follow the movement of his hand, down until it settles on your throat, relaxed, not even putting any pressure. 

“Still okay?” 

You nod. 

He puts in slight pressure now and, when you moan, he chuckles but doesn't say anything to acknowledge what makes him laugh. Instead, his hand keeps descending until his fingers rests in between your breasts and then he softly cups one of them, thumb passing over your nipple and making you jump at the sudden contact before letting go. 

“So fucking pretty. You see this?” His fingers take hold of the skin of your tummy that connects with the curve of your waist and he pinches slightly, making you squirm and tickling you a bit. “Everything you are, everything you have makes my heart beat,” he kisses your shoulder again, “and my dick hard,” and again, “and makes me want to prove to you that there's no one in this world that can come close to you, not in my eyes, my love.” 

Oh, my God. 

He says it in a way that makes you want to believe him. And, deep down, you know you do. 

Even though it's complicated, even though it takes effort to make years and years of self-loathing disappear, you know you can try. 

Because you desperately yearn to see yourself from Yunho's point of view. 

This time, when you turn to kiss him, he doesn't put up any restraint. His dominant mask slips off of him for just a second when you grab his face, pliant mouth moving at the rhythm and pace yours is marking, a whine getting muffled with your tongue. 

He gives your legs rest, closing his legs (and, in consequence, yours as well) and, when you tug at his hair so you can mark his neck down at the weird position you're in, he groans and you want to smile but he's searching your lips before you can even leave a bruise on his skin. 

“I love you, I love the way you think about me, I love what you make me want to think about me,” you assure him when you pull back to look at him. His cheeks are red and his lips are swollen and you love the way they're parted as he recovers his breath. 

“Lesson learned?” 

“Mhm,” you kiss his lips again and take the hand resting your waist, bringing it down to your clothed sex so he can feel how wet you are “now please, would you touch me?” 

“Fuck, you really do love to beg, hm?” He says and it's breathy, like he can't actually believe, and he doesn't give you time to respond because he's already kissing you again. “Let's go to bed.” 

“W-wait.” 

“Yeah?” 

The way you glance at the mirror is a dead giveaway of what you truly want. It makes him take in a sharp breath and grab your face in between his hands, fascination written all over his expression. 

“Do you want to watch when I touch you?”

You breathe out a moan in response.

“You want to watch yourself while I make you come?” 

A little shy but with resolve, you nod. 

He curses. 

Next thing you know, your legs are perched over his again and they’re wide open. Your arms fly back to hold onto him, onto anything that helps you not fall on your face but then his perfect, veiny hand presses on your torso and you fall back comfortably into his embrace again. 

He wastes no time, lips marking a path from your shoulder to your neck and fingers ghosting your clit over your panties and you whimper, impatience making you move against his crotch and making him grunt at the friction. 

“I k-know you just s-said you just discovered the joy of t-teasing but can you please do somet— Fuck!” 

His thumb presses on your bundle of nerves over the cotton and you can’t help but shake. 

It has been a while since you’ve even touched yourself truly, with want and need behind. It’s been a while since someone else touched you there, period, so the sensation feels new and you kind of feel like an overly inexperienced woman with the way you can’t help the immediate build up when he starts moving his thumb.  

It’s electric and you notice that your eyes closed the second he touched you, so you remember yourself. You remember what you asked for, what you actually want to see. 

When you open them again and look at Yunho, you find him already looking at you. His parted lips turn into a proud smile when he catches your eye and he nods, kisses trailing up to your ear, teeth nipping at the skin. 

“Good girl.” 

Fuck. 

He stops his movements to let his index, middle and ring finger cup your sex entirely, press into the fabric and let it soak with your arousal. You see in the mirror and you watch, with fascination, how he manages to twist the cotton to the side and expose your pussy for you both to see with the same hand. 

“You’re so wet, princess, I bet you taste so good…” 

Your brain short circuits and malfunctions when he finally touches you without anything in between his skin and yours. His index reaches out and collects the evidence of how much 

you want him, of how much you want him and you moan when the fabric snaps against your pussy when he lets go of it. 

“Do you?”

He toys with the stickiness on with his fingers, rubs it in between them and then brings his hand up so you’re able to see it without the mirror’s help. 

“Look at me,” you do, obedient, “and open up.” 

You open your mouth and allow his fingers to get in and rest against your tongue. You suck out of instinct, eyes never leaving his, and he gulps as he watches you taste yourself until your arousal transfers from his fingers to your tongue. 

“Let me taste it now.” 

Licking into his mouth, the fingers that were previously on yours settle on your throat, not allowing you to fully lean in and kiss him like you want but, instead, letting him have control of it. 

You swear you see stars when he sucks his tongue into his mouth and he hums, pleased with the taste. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

Letting you go, you’re breathing hard when he pushes you a bit to put some distance between the both of you. 

“Get up and take these off.” He snaps the elastic of your panties and the sting against your skin makes you whine. 

You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but wait for him to lead your actions and the consensual loss of control feels so freeing that it makes you dizzy. So you oblige, getting off his lap and allowing him to turn you around so that your ass faces the mirror. When you look at him, he’s looking at the reflection and not you, so you decide, with a boost of confidence because of the hunger in his eyes, to give him a little show. 

You bend over, forehead almost touching his chest and proceed to take off your underwear that way. You open your legs a little, giving him a clear view of it when the fabric falls from your legs and pools at your ankles and, when you twist your head to the side to look at his reaction, his tongue is out and licking his bottom lip like he’s starving for it. 

For the first time ever, you feel both sexy and desired at the same time. 

He reaches for your ass in a way you’re not so sure it’s calculated and you fall fully into his chest with a soft moan when he opens you up for him even more. 

“So hot,” he says, low, under his breath, like he’s not even thinking before he speaks and he lets his fingernails drag on your skin (something you’re learning he enjoys doing and that you also like, a lot) until his hands fall to his knees again. “Fuck.” 

He still hasn’t even touched you properly and you already feel drunk on his touch. You feel that way, at least, when you prop your hands against his chest and push yourself up. He turns you around quickly, sits you on his lap with your legs open again and sighs. 

“I’m not going to make you beg for it anymore when all I want to do is watch you come, princess.” 

Arm around your middle, he presses you flush against his chest and takes your right hand in his. It allows you to let go of the grasp you have on him a little and, when he guides your own fingers to your pussy, you get why. 

“Show me how you like it.”

You feel lewd, exposed and dirty in a way you never thought you would enjoy. But here you are, craving 

“Yunho…”

“Show me,” he insists, “so I can learn.” 

Isn’t it a little bit funny that he sounds like he’s the one begging you when he speaks? 

You show him. Starting with collecting a bit of your slick, you drag a finger upwards from your entrance to your clit and then, only when you can see it fully glistening in the mirror, is when you press down and caress it in circular motions that send electricity through you right away. 

As you do with everything, this is something that, although you don’t really have time to even think about doing most of the days, you have perfected. There’s a science to it, a method that you’ve discovered via need and lust and that has never been so thoroughly explored than right now. 

It’s like you have kept your needs like a nasty little secret inside of your heart, just like you did with your love for Yunho, and you’re letting it all out. 

You pick up the pace, alternating from circles to side to side motions and the pleasure quickly becomes overwhelming. Or have you been touching yourself for him for minutes now? Time disappears in every sound you unconsciously let out, it blends with the glint of passion in Yunho’s eyes and it dissolves in an orgasm that quickly takes over you and shakes you forward. 

“That’s it,” he mutters with his lips against your temple and his hands holding you steady. “Now’s my turn.” 

He replaces his hands with yours, bats your fingers away when you try to prolong your pleasure and takes over at a relentless pace, overstimulating you.

It goes on like that for a minute or so where you shake and you readjust in his lap and you shake again when he bucks your hips and you feel him firm against your ass. You desperately want to help him feel this way, too, but there’s only so much you can do when he teases your entrance with his index and finds you relaxed enough to put it in slowly. 

Slowly until it glides in and out smoothly and you hold onto your forearm, and whimper and his name spilling from your lips in bliss when his ring finger joins. You hope you don’t look too delirious, you wish you’re not making a fool of yourself for feeling the heat pool on your lower belly so quickly again. 

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m—” 

“Don’t look at me or what I’m doing, look at yourself.”

Huh?

“W-what?”

“Watch yourself come,” he reiterates, breathless and, when you disobey and look at him through the reflection, he’s already focused on your face, mouth hanging open and brows furrowed with determination. “I want you to see how beautiful you look coming all over my fingers, Y/N.” 

He curves them upwards and the sensation somehow intensifies “Shit.” 

“Come, Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you’re able to prove his words to be true. When you come undone, you’re looking at yourself and in the mirror is someone you don’t exactly recognize. Someone you don’t perceive as yourself because, yes, the person staring back at you is beautiful. And that person looks sexy and sensual and is glowing with pleasure written all over their face but they’re not someone you have categorized in your brain as you. 

And then you understand. This raw, pure, unfiltered state of you is something you hadn’t reached before. Naturally, you had never seen yourself come. And you hadn’t been handled with so much care through an orgasm before, so you lived it fully and then, only when you stop shaking and your legs fall from his and your feet are on the floor, holding your weight steady, is when you allow yourself to look away from your reflection and turn to the man responsible for the best orgasm of your life. 

His lips are quivering, his eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls against your shoulder as he holds you to him. 

“You… Jeong Yunho…” 

He smiles, probably at the way your voice trembles and gives away just how fucked out you already are, but he doesn’t open his eyes  “Yes?” 

“My turn.” 

When he opens his eyes, you’re already standing up in front of him, his hands shifting on your body, the fingers that just made you see stars leaving a wet trail on your skin before they settle on your stomach. 

And, although he seemed tough and dominant just a minute ago, he puts no resistance when you grab his arm and make him stand up as well. You get on your tippy toes to nuzzle his nose with yours and he holds onto you again as you stumble backwards, towards the bedroom. 

“You’re too dressed, Jeong.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy me in a dress shirt,” he says, a smug smile in his lips when your back hits a wall and he presses his body to yours, “prepping you to take my coc— F-fuck, princess.”

Your hand teasing his erection over the fabric of his expensive pants is enough to shut him up. Good, you already let him have his fun (and yours, by consequence) and, even if you enjoyed the loss of control, there’s something equal parts rewarding and hot about winning it back with the simple press of your thumb where you believe his leaking tip is. 

“You’re too overconfident sometimes, Jeong,” you whisper against his lips and it may be your two amazing orgasms or the way you love to have something over him, a little bit of power at least, that make you overly confident right now as well. He puckers out to kiss you but you don’t budge. “Want to see if you prepped me right?” 

It’s a question for consent. You have to make sure he wants you this way, too. That this is fun for him, too. And when he pauses your heart feels like it stops for a second, just like time. 

But right after there’s this quiet agreement you both come to and his mouth devours yours as you move in tandem, in coordinated effort to undress him: You loosen his belt and work on the button of his pants while he unbuttons his shirt and both your feet move with synchronized steps until he’s falling on the bed and you’re getting on your knees in front of him. 

He, however, stops you with a hand caressing your face softly. 

“Later,” he mutters with a soft smile that’s laced with something passionate and lewd you feel you’re about to discover. He leans in, teeth catching your bottom lip and pulling until you’re whining and you taste a little blood on your mouth. “I need to fuck you right now.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You do however make sure to peel his underwear off him while you’re on your knees, the size of him making you wet and ready all over again.

When you stand up, he grabs your tired legs to pull you closer. It feels like a pause in the middle of passionate urgency, but when he takes his time to kiss under your belly button and the expanse of your hips, you feel like it only adds fuel to the fire. 

The fact that he’s even taking the time to explore you makes you want to combust.

“Oh.” He bites you right over your hip bone and you take his hair into your fingers, pulling him back. “Y-you said you needed to fuck me?” 

“I do,” he laughs against your skin and then leans back, taking him with you and you let him, falling on your side before he pushes you against the mattress, body covering yours and palms touching you all over. “I just enjoy taking my time with you.” 

“I can see that, Jeong.” 

He’s distracted again within the second, looking down your body and taking you in like it’s the first time he’s seeing you even though he had a clear view of you and your pussy in the mirror five minutes ago.

And there’s this urge that takes over you, you can’t even fight the words that come out your mouth next.

“Make love to me.” 

He pauses again and then your words register in his brain, you can see the exact moment they hit him and you think you see him tear up a little before he blinks the deep emotion away to focus on the moment. You have to do the same. 

“I will. Every day of my life, if you ask me to, if I’m so lucky to.”

The rest of the night, from the moment he says those words, kisses you and moves you so you’re in the middle of the bed, it all passes in slow motion. 

And it all passes really fast, too. 

Yunho makes love to you. He enters you while looking into your eyes and whispering how much he loves you against your lips and you say it back. He holds your hand as his hips move and his length drags deliciously inside of you. He marks your chest with his lips and your heart with his love and he closes his hands over yours when his pace picks up and he allows to lose himself in the moment too. 

You make love to him as you push him onto his back, his pretty face all flushed, the pink coloring his neck and his chest where you hand rest as you ride him and watch his control slip from him, as you memorize his moans and grunts and as your walls squeeze him in before coming again on his cock and it only takes to firm, hard strides for him to spill himself inside of you as well, the prove of your love making spilling out of you a little when he holds you to his chest and he pulls out of you, both of you sated, both of you in love. 

It feels like an hour has passed when someone speaks again, the silence in the room comfortable and accompanied by the beats of both your hearts. In reality, it’s only been around ten minutes where you’ve closed your eyes and breathed the remnants of Yunho’s cologne, cheek pressed against his chest and his fingers drawing random figures on your naked back. 

You decide to break the silence when you remember something. 

“I think they forgot my room service.” 

There’s a pause and then Yunho is laughing loudly and it makes you smile. His chest vibrates and you can see, on your peripheral, how he covers his eyes with his forearm. 

“I’m being serious, I ordered like three hours ago.” 

“Maybe they knocked and we didn’t hear them,” he mumbles tiredly and you finally look up, chin pressed where your cheek was a second ago. “We were pretty… Busy.” 

“That’s worse, Jeong!” 

“Why?” He asks, genuinely clueless and then it clicks for him. He brings down his arm and opens his eyes wide with shame. “Oh, my God.” 

“Mhm.” 

“How are you going to look the receptionist in the eye?” 

“She knows me, too. She asked me to take a picture with her  when I check out.”

Yunho sighs and says nothing. He looks at you, hand on your back moving until it reaches your face and he lets his knuckles trace your nose in a way that makes you scrunch it. 

“I forgot you were famous.” 

“We both are,” you w-hisper back, lips forming a thin line as you think. “I mean, if someone leaks that we’re both here, it won’t look weird because we’re supposed to be together.” 

“Supposed to?” He frowns. 

“Well, yes, to the public at least.” 

Yunho pouts. 

He pouts and your stomach twists and turns with nerves and butterflies. You’re joking, kind of. 

“Are you not my girlfriend, Y/N?” 

Oh, he’s adorable. It’s so easy to tease him when you’re both not at each other’s throat. 

You wonder if you’ll ever have a fight again, your heart weak for him even when you try to keep the joke going. 

“I haven’t been asked to be anyone’s girlfriend…” 

The deadpan expression that follows your quip breaks your resolve entirely and you laugh, hiding your face on his chest as he mumbles something you don’t catch. 

“What?” You look up at him again. 

“I said that you’re annoying and that you are my girlfriend.” 

“No, I think you said that you love me.”

There’s something so reassuring in the way the annoyance disappears from his expression and it’s replaced by something sweet and he looks like he can barely fight the words back when he replies with: “Yeah, I do.” 

You hum, happy with his response “I thought so.” 

Pressing your cheek against his skin again, there’s only two seconds of silence before his hand is on your shoulder and shaking your body. 

“Say it back, Y/N.” 

“So needy,” you tease and he shakes you again, groaning, so you sigh and pull away from his body to sit up a little. “I love you too.” 

He leans into your space, a blissful smile curving his lips before he pecks your mouth in a sweet, short kiss “Good,” he whispers, falling against the pillows and dragging your body with his so that you’re resting against the soft material as well. “When did you come back?” 

“A week ago.” 

“Hm,” his hands return to your body, fingernails dragging softly up and down your arm, “your family doesn’t know.” 

At the mention of them, you close your eyes and squeeze, reality washing over you. 

“I’m sure my mother does.” 

“She doesn’t,” he assures you, “she would’ve mentioned it by now and she only talks about the project you’re going to lead once you’re back.” 

You open your eyes “What project?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says softly, “I thought you were already leading one?” 

“Something like that,” you nod. “I, um… Was networking in a way, gathering new information on new companies to invest in and help their growth. Small business with original concepts that we can boost or help bring to the city and all of that.” 

“Did you have fun on the trip?” 

“Yeah,” you answer truthfully, “I did. I met a lot of people, I visited places I never even knew existed, I also learned a lot about myself and about what I want… And I got away from Satan for a while.” 

He knows you mean your mom, so he snorts out a laugh and shakes his head at the jab. 

“I missed you a lot, though.” 

His amusement dies slowly but happiness remains on his face. You’re sure yours is a reflection of his, as well. 

“I missed you too,” he answers in a murmur and you nuzzle the hand that reaches your cheek before giving it a kiss. “I’m glad you had fun and it sounds like being away helped but… Never do it again.” 

“Oh?” You try to tease but he insists. 

“Never leave without telling me again, please,” his whisper sounds like a plea and your heart beats louder. “I’ll miss you too much.” 

There’s an impulse, a need that soars through your blood. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away again but, when I do, you can go with me.” 

“I will,” he answers right away and at the confirmation that you want him there with you, you see the tension slip away from his features, “my bags are already packed and all.” 

“I bet they are,” eyes rolling back in annoyance, you press a palm on his chest and push him a little. “Needy.” 

“Shut up.” 

There’s a lot of things to talk about. A lot of things you want to tell him, to mention, to bring up and discuss with him. Like what happens after you leave this bubble you’re floating in, if you tell your brother and his right away, if he’s going to tell his friends or wait until you’re a little far along in the friendship to do so. 

You have to ask him if he wants to tell your parents like… Ever. You’re not so sure you even want to. 

But he shuffles and moves until his naked chest is against yours and his hands are around your body, chin resting on the top of your head as he yawns. 

There’s this feeling of calmness that washes over you as you consider that, maybe, this can be the way you fall asleep from now on. No sleeping or sleepless nights, just Yunho’s embrace and his steady breathing above you, the beat of his heart, a lullaby that lulls you until your eyes are closing and tiredness takes over your senses. 

This time, you dream about a future together and nothing more. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and please remember the next part it's much shorter and would be the end of this mini series!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[mlm-writer]

Thoughtful (Wade Wilson x GN!Reader)

Pairing:��Wade Wilson aka Deadpool x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Mature (because reader says fuck) Words: 821 POV: Second Summary: Little domestic snippet with your boyfriend <3 Note: No proofreading because I am lazy. If you see a typo, no you don't. Tags: domestic fluff, cuddles, established relationship and chocolate milk

A waft of cold air infiltrated the apartment, rousing you from your warmed nap by the radiator. “NO,” you exclaimed reflexively, without even regaining full consciousness. You thrashed around on the couch, the thick blanket you had draped over yourself got tangled in your legs. A leather-clad hand came to rest on your shoulder. You relaxed and felt the blanket slowly being freed and tucket under your cold body.  

“Just stay half-asleep,” Wade’s gentle voice soothed you as he placed the blanket over you again. “Just don’t fully sleep, cause then the writer will have to write me doing stuff to you while you sleep and while I am a good guy, it still feels a little weird.” 

You turned over to your other side. “Shut up, Wade,” you mumbled, making your boyfriend giggle like a little lovestruck teenage girl. A bit later you felt a large weight crushing you just as you were about to fall back asleep. You groaned. “You’re heavy, get off me!” Wade pulled the blanket off your face and started peppering it in little kisses. 

“Come on babyboo, you love me so much, how can you resist me?” You thrashed around, trying to wrestle Wade off you, but he captured your lips with his, going in for the killer move of distracting you with slow and deep kisses. His rough lips slid against yours; his tongue coaxed its way inside your mouth to dance with yours. Your lips parted with a gasp and in the split second that Wade was distracted too, you chucked him off you, sending him from the couch to the cold hard floor. 

“You underestimate how much I love breathing,” you grinned in victory. Wade shifted on the floor, getting into a more elegant position where he laid on his side with one knee bent and an arm supporting his head. You rolled your eyes as he made suggestive eyebrow wiggles at you. “You woke me up. You owe me a hot chocolate.” It took your boyfriend less than two seconds to get on his feet and be on his way to the kitchen to fulfill your very high demands. You stayed on the couch like a burrito, staring at the black screen of the TV. Turning it on would require sticking your arm out into the cold. 

“I love this show!” Wade quipped from behind you where he was heating up the milk in the microwave. “I love the part where the person does the thing at the place. Don't you?” You rolled your eyes so hard they almost proverbially rolled out of your sockets. Wade chattered on an on about ‘the show’. “And I really like the entity that says the words that mean a lot. You know when it said the thing that helped the other character do the other thing? Oh what a great episode that was!” He didn't shut up until he came into your field of vision and kissed your cheek. “Here you go my little love spring roll.” He said down next to you and turned on the TV. He held the mug at your neck height. In the Pinkie Pie mug sat a glittery pink reusable straw. You smiled and craned your neck down to take a sip without exposing anything but your face to the air. 

“Thank you, baby,” you hummed happily as he put on a bad comedy movie and diligently held the mug up for you. When you had drank it all, he put it down and tugged softly at the corner of your blanket. “Fine, you have earned cocoon rights…” you sigh as you open up the blanket long enough for Wade to also crawl under it. You hissed at his cold skin coming into contact with you. “Fuck you're so cold,” you complained as you wrapped your arms around him, warming him with your body heat. Wade tugged his head under your chin, drinking in your warmth and scent. 

“You'll have to deal with it baby. The nonnie requested cuddles.”

“The who?”

“Oh don't worry about it sweet cheeks.”

You diverted your eyes back to the screen. Wade had the tendency to wiggle around, but your steady arms around him kept him safe and warm. He was surprisingly still. You didn't make it to the credits, the warm coziness lulling you back into a peaceful slumber before dinner. When you woke up, you noticed two things. One, you were a lonely burrito. Two, you could smell take out. You rolled off the couch and followed your nose to the dinner table, where a white plastic back with red lanterns on it was waiting for you. The receipt was taped on top with the back facing you. Red ink adorned the back of the receipt, the message “will be back after killing some bad guys! Love you!” was surrounded by little hearts. A smile stretched over your face. How thoughtful. 

—————

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[vixstarria]

The Sheath of Frontiers

So, in light of the disparity between the amount of Wyll content compared with the other companions, I felt it would be prudent for my Tav and Astarion to seduce him. Enjoy!

AO3

Astarion x F!Tav x Wyll

18+, humour, smut, threesome, soft dom/service top Astarion, sub/bottom Wyll, Tav and Astarion are both little shits, anal etc

This is probably more really lewd and descriptive comedy than erotica, you have been warned.

Approx. 3,400 words (gods, these things just keep getting longer and longer)

Written in 3rd person, and Tav's name is... *drumroll* Tav. Hey, I don't know who you want to relate to here, take your pick.

Tav, Astarion and Wyll occupied a booth at the Elfsong. They were the last ones still up drinking after a long day roaming the city. 

“But don’t you ever feel... tempted?” Astarion threw Wyll a sultry look from beneath his eyelashes, circling the rim of his wineglass with one finger.  

Tav had been watching the subtle seduction show unfold for the past while. She wasn’t sure whether Wyll was oblivious to Astarion’s flirtation, or impervious to it, but either way, the man would not budge.  

“Call me a hopeless romantic, but I want the moment to be special for my one and only. Anticipated. Meaningful. And what could hold more significance than waiting until after marriage vows?” Wyll answered. 

“Yes, yes, you are ever the romantic hero and want to make it ‘special’ for your chosen one, blah blah...” Astarion rolled his eyes, sipping his wine spiked with Tav’s blood. “But you’ve admitted you’re no virgin, it’s not as though you’re ‘saving yourself’ for anyone. What about casual no strings encounters? Simple carnal lust, for hells’ sake!” 

“You never know when or where you might find true love. Wouldn’t want to accidentally spoil it from the beginning,” Wyll said, with a smile and a head shake. 

Astarion threw a quick look of pure vexation at Tav, as she tried to hide her laugh behind her own goblet. She’d told him he wouldn’t be able to crack the ‘Blade of Frontiers’ - something he took as a personal challenge.  

“Hmm... You know, you should marry us!” Astarion suddenly exclaimed. “I would make an exemplary spouse for a duke! You should see me entertain at balls. Tav might be found to be acceptable as well, after a good scrub.” 

Tav threw a piece of pie crust at Astarion in response. 

“We wouldn’t accept your proposal without a test ride, though,” Astarion warned.  

“What, marry both of you? ...First of all, polygamy is not legal.” Wyll seemed a bit thrown off by the sudden change in the direction of the conversation.  

“So make it legal, the reigns of power are in your hands. Or will be,” Astarion shrugged. 

“Astarion, we both know the entire legal system would collapse if polygamy was to be permitted officially. Can you imagine all the complications? Especially all the implications it would bear for noble families and their hereditary lines of succession,” the future Duke Ravengard rambled.  

“I see what you’re saying, and I agree, but there could be a provision to allow persons who are unable to produce heirs to marry into the noble families as secondary spouses,” Astarion countered. “And you could always implement obligatory prenuptial agreements to simplify asset division.” 

Tav screamed inwardly: once Astarion started talking legalese the only way to get him to shut up was by literally occupying his mouth with something else, one way or another. 

Meanwhile, Wyll shook his head. 

“That would only serve to provide obligation-free unfair advantage to such persons,” he said. “It is nothing but furthering nepotism.” 

“I see nothing wrong with persons gaining unfair advantage, as long as I am those persons,” Astarion parried. 

“I could marry Tav and provide you with some kind of concubine status, if you wish,” Wyll suggested. 

“Not interested,” Astarion scoffed, sipping his wine. “I’m afraid we’re a package deal.” 

Tav groaned in frustration and got up.  

“I’ve had enough of this. Wyll, you don’t need to worry about spoiling any 'precious moments’ here - neither Astarion nor I have any interest in letting you make honest people of us anyway.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Astarion muttered with a huff, sipping more of his wine. 

“Shut up, Astarion,” Tav threw. “I’m going upstairs, and I, for one, intend to fuck this vampire before the night is over. Are you coming with us or not?” 

Astarion choked on his drink. If this was all it would take to lure the Blade into their bed – Tav would never let him live it down. 

“I uh... I must confess – I have never done that before,” Wyll said, visibly flustered. 

“What, fuck a vampire? Most people haven’t.” Tav shrugged. 

“Not that either, but what I meant was... be intimate with a man,” Wyll forced out. 

He jumped a little as he suddenly found Astarion’s lips a hair’s breadth away from his ear. He hadn’t noticed the vampire inching closer to him. 

“Would you like to..?” Astarion purred. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t done yourself hundreds of times, what’s so shameful and difficult?” Tav teased. 

“That's not true,” Wyll protested.  

Tav tilted her head and shot him a look that said ‘oh please’. 

“No, I mean that. Ever since I... entered that contract, I’ve hardly ever indulged. Never know when she might be watching. ...Doesn’t your patron ever watch as well..?” 

“Sometimes...” Tav mused. “But after a while it’s like fucking with a cat in the room. You learn to ignore it. As long as it doesn’t jump on the bed and sniff your asscrack while you’re in the middle of it, it’s fine.” 

“Ahem,” Astarion cleared his throat. “Can we please concentrate on the matter at hand?” 

Astarion sat on the edge of the bed in full naked glory as Tav, also in a state of almost total undress, sat behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other stroking his cock.  

Meanwhile, Wyll perched on the opposite edge of the bed, trying to look anywhere but at the couple in front of him.  

“Eyes down here, darling,” Astarion drawled. “If Miz-” 

“Don’t say her name!” 

“If that skank decides to show up, she’ll get more than she’s bargained for.” 

Wyll finally allowed himself to gape openly at the scene in front of him.

Astarion’s cock was surprisingly thick and veined, and flushed at the tip. Perhaps it was the only part of him that could be flushed with blood. Wyll tried, habitually, to distract himself from his own arousal with thoughts of the workings behind vampire erections, to no avail – his own cock was straining against his pants almost painfully. He observed, almost in a state of a surreal daze, as Tav used her thumb to spread a new bead of precum over the head of Astarion’s cock, and reflexively licked his lips.  

She noticed and let out a satisfied hum. 

“Why don’t you come help?” she purred. 

“Hmm?” Wyll seemed to snap out of his daze. “You want me to take over..?” 

“No, like I said, this is hardly something you haven’t done before – try something new.” Tav grinned. “Why don’t you come down here and kneel in front of him?” 

Somehow, Wyll’s legs got him down onto the floor between Astarion’s thighs. The vampire himself leaned back against Tav, his head thrown back over her shoulder, with a vague smile on his lips. 

“Really...?” Wyll breathed a shaky laugh. “I thought we would start with some baby steps. Maybe a kiss..?” 

“No, no darling...” Tav cooed. “Don’t be silly. Kissing is way too intimate. Just lick his balls for now.” 

Still not quite believing what was happening, Wyll went ahead and did as he was told. Two things, he noticed immediately. One, the overwhelming scent of Astarion’s musk was making his head spin. He wanted to simply bury his nose in the spot between his shaft and balls and inhale, but he wasn’t sure whether that would be appropriate. And two, his ministrations immediately made Astarion groan, the sound sweet music to his ears. 

By then Tav had moved out from behind Astarion’s back and lounged on the bed next to him, her hand still stroking his cock, and watched Wyll’s efforts. 

“Good boy,” she purred approvingly. 

“Love?” Astarion said.  

“Hmm?” Tav hummed. 

“You talk too much.”  

Wyll watched Astarion push her head, quite unceremoniously, down towards his groin. She let out a somewhat annoyed sound, but went right on, taking his cock in her mouth. 

“Finally, some silence,” Astarion groaned.  

Once again, Wyll found himself gawking at the display now mere inches before him, as she worked the length of Astarion’s erection with her lips, her cheeks hollowing - obviously a practiced motion for the two, as they entered a familiar rhythm, Astarion’s hips bucking up, his fingers tangled in her hair, as she bobbed her head.  

Tav’s eyes met Wyll’s, and she released Astarion’s dick from her mouth, with a loud plopping sound and a sigh. She lifted Wyll’s chin with one finger.  

“Now you can take over,” she whispered, getting up.  

Wyll hesitated, taking Astarion’s cock in his hand.  

‘Huh... Not cold at all,’ he thought.  

“Don’t tell me the Blade is intimidated,” Astarion taunted. 

Wyll tried to think of a witty retort, but, for once, his mind was blank, and in any event it hardly seemed appropriate to orate and put on heroic airs whilst on his knees between Astarion’s legs. He decided it would be prudent to simply put the dick in his mouth.  

Tav had made it look so easy... She slurped that thing up like a horse with a carrot. But Wyll found himself struggling, despite quite enjoying the taste and sensation of tender skin on his tongue. 

Astarion sucked his breath in, with a hiss.  

“Teeth...” he said. “We keep our teeth behind our lips, darling.” 

Wyll tried to mumble an apology without removing Astarion’s cock from his mouth.  

“And don’t talk with your mouth full. Gods, you’re from a decent family, haven’t they taught you any manners..? ...There, that’s better.” 

“Is he doing a good job?” Wyll heard Tav’s voice somewhere in the room.  

“Well...” said Astarion.  

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Wyll, honey, you know you can bite him if he’s mean to you, right? You’re the one with the power here, right now.” She got back on the bed, holding something in her hand. “But why are you still dressed?” she laughed.  

Wyll released Astarion from his mouth and fumbled with his clothing. Meanwhile, Tav had slid onto Astarion’s lap, and they busied themselves with each other. Their sheer hunger for one another, as they kissed and exchanged caresses, made Wyll feel like a third wheel, but Tav quickly turned her attention back to him.  

“My love, I think he’s bored,” she said to Astarion. “Should we wake Halsin up again?”  

“Are you trying to educate or traumatise him..?” Astarion murmured in response. “But that reminds me of something...” 

Astarion positioned Tav to sit on his lap with her back against him, guiding her onto his cock. She moaned as he entered her, his knees spreading her legs as his hands roamed her body, stroking between her legs as he bucked his hips up into her.  

“It was such a breathtaking view, I thought he would enjoy it as well,” he murmured. “Like what you see?” he directed at Wyll. 

Nothing in Wyll’s life had prepared him for this. Eyes locked on the spectacle before him, he had at last begun stroking himself, staying in time with Astarion’s movements. He didn’t notice as Astarion went to whisper something in Tav’s ear.  

“Do you want to taste her?” Astarion goaded.  

“Yes,” Wyll breathed, leaning forward. 

“Ah ah! Not like that.” Astarion intercepted him, pulling out of Tav. She got up, returning onto the bed with a giggle. Astarion’s cock glistened with her juices.  

“Go ahead now,” Astarion purred. 

Wyll eagerly took Astarion into his mouth again. Tav’s taste on Astarion’s cock combined with Astarion’s own precum was absolutely divine, and Wyll greedily lapped up as much as he could.  

“Much, much better this time...” Astarion purred approvingly. “Consider that a little treat... But that’s enough now. Come here...” Astarion pulled Wyll up by one of his horns, directing him onto the bed and pushing against his chest until he was on his back.  

Tav angled a pillow under his head so his horns wouldn’t get in the way, and laid down on her side near Wyll, and smiled at him, lightly caressing his face with her fingertips. Wyll’s heart beat like a mad thing trying to break out of its cage, as Astarion crawled on top of him, with a predatory look in his eyes. 

“So just how... ‘intimate’ were you thinking of getting?” Tav asked, softly.  

Wyll swallowed hard as Astarion emitted a soft growl and started kissing down his neck, his hand slowly working its way up the inside of Wyll’s thigh.  

“Is this about my blood, or are we now well enough acquainted to kiss..?” Wyll managed. 

Astarion lifted his head with a small sigh. 

“She’s asking whether the Blade might want to become a sheath for a spell,” he explained.  

Wyll found himself at a loss for words again.  

“...Can’t the Blade remain a blade?” he asked, finally.  

“That’s not on the table today, darling,” Astarion shook his head. “But we can entertain ourselves in other ways.” 

“Well then I uh... I think yes maybe..?” Wyll sputtered. 

“Yes what..?” Astarion asked, his voice low and husky, rolling over to lay on Wyll’s other side. “Do you want me to fuck you? Say it.” 

Any words Wyll might have said died somewhere between his racing heart and his suddenly parched throat, but his cock twitched visibly, jerking up and landing with a resounding thud on his abdomen.  

Tav and Astarion both turned their heads at the impressive display. 

“Why don’t I take it slow, and you can tell me if you want to stop at any moment..?” Astarion asked, unable to contain a grin. 

Wyll did not object to that. 

Tav had been trailing her fingertips lower and lower, leaving feather light caresses on Wyll’s skin, until she reached his straining erection. Meanwhile, Astarion had reached for the object she’d retrieved earlier. It turned out to be a vial with some kind of oil.  

“You’re in expert hands, you know,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ll admit, I’m actually excited for you.” 

Wyll watched Astarion pour some of the oil on his fingers. Lying between Tav and Astarion, he gained the distinct impression of having a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.  

‘Who am I kidding?’ he thought. ‘They’re both devils.’ 

Tav reached and took his cock in her hand, just as Astarion spread some oil on it, before moving down to cup and gently tug on his balls with his hand. 

“Ah, you weren’t kidding about bumps and ridges!” Tav giggled. “My, they look fun!” 

“Bring your knees up,” Astarion purred.  

Wyll swiftly complied, and the vampire went to nibble on Wyll’s earlobe as his hand slipped lower. His finger circled and teased his puckered hole, while Tav continued to stroke his cock. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Astarion whispered in his ear. 

“Hnngaa-ah!” said Wyll, bringing his knees higher. 

Tav and Astarion exchanged a look.  

“I think that meant ‘no, don’t stop’,” said Tav.  

“I think so too,” Astarion agreed. “Very well.” 

Astarion applied more and more pressure as he teased Wyll’s hole.  

“Try to relax,” he purred, working a single finger in. “Breathe... It’s just a finger, for crying out loud.” 

Wyll whimpered, his cock twitching again, to Tav’s immediate delight, as Astarion continued to gradually work his digit in further, thrusting in and out, spreading more oil in and around.  

“That’s it,” Astarion whispered. “I think we can add one more.” 

Astarion’s thrusting had grown more persistent, as he added another finger, all the while watching Wyll’s expression with a lidded gaze.  

Wyll was finding himself being reduced to a blushing, mewling mess, throwing his head back as much as his horns would allow, with his eyes shut.  

Tav had begun licking and nibbling on his neck. 

“Do you like it?” Tav purred, as Wyll nodded. “Think you’re ready for more?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, almost inaudibly, rolling his hips in time with Astarion’s fingers now. His cock was leaking obscene amounts of precum onto Tav’s hand as she continued to play with it. 

“Get down here then,” Astarion directed him closer to the edge of the bed without pulling his fingers out.  

“Do be gentle, Astarion, it’s his first time after all,” Tav called out as Wyll slipped out from her hand, drawn after Astarion. She got up to wet a washcloth in the basin, leaving it within Astarion’s reach.  

‘Is that..? Oh. Well, that makes sense.’ Wyll’s scrambled brain thought.  

“Well, if I can’t marry into the Ravengard family, I guess I’ll settle for deflowering the heir,” Astarion grinned. 

Wyll let out an involuntary whine as Astarion’s fingers left his ass. 

“Don’t worry, darling, there’s more on the way,” Astarion drawled.  

Wyll watched Astarion spread more oil on his own cock, before falling back again, shutting his eyes and whimpering in anticipation.  

Astarion set a torturously slow pace as he worked his cock in, stretching Wyll more and more with slow, shallow thrusts that gradually grew deeper and deeper. 

“Good...” Astarion groaned, slowly sliding in and out of Wyll almost fully now. “Who knew you’d be so good...” 

He picked up the pace, setting a steady rhythm with his thrusts once it was clear Wyll was comfortable with it.  

“So how does it feel to be fucked?” Astarion asked with a devilish grin.

“Oh leave him be, he’s already going through a lot” Tav cut in, reclining near Wyll again.  

Wyll looked up at her. She was smiling at him so sweetly... He reached towards her. 

“I didn’t say you could touch her,” Astarion warned with a forceful thrust, making Wyll yelp. 

“I wouldn’t anger him, if I were you,” Tav whispered, slowly running a finger down between the ridges of his muscles. “He still holds a grudge about your little seduction attempt back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, you know.” 

“What in the hells are you two gossiping about..?” followed from Astarion.  

“My heart, he’s doing so well, don’t you think he’s earned another little treat?” Tav asked Astarion, ignoring his question.  

“I’m the only one here who’s earned any treats,” Astarion muttered. “But sure.”  

He slowly pulled his hard length out of Wyll. 

“On your feet!” 

Wyll scrambled up, bending over the edge of the bed. Tav stayed on the bed, edging over to sit before him with her legs spread. 

“Still want a taste?” she purred with a wicked smile. 

Astarion entered him again, with a perhaps slightly too forceful thrust, making Wyll collapse face-first between Tav’s legs. With a groan, he plunged his tongue between her folds, earning a moan from her.  

Wyll’s efforts might have been somewhat sloppy, but he made up for it in sheer enthusiasm as he lapped at her, eagerly. 

Unbeknown to Wyll, Astarion caught Tav’s eyes and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She shrugged and waved her fingers in a ‘so-so’ motion back at him. Astarion nodded with a roll of his eyes.  

Wyll was caught off-guard when Astarion reached around him to take his neglected cock in his hand.  

“Let’s get you off and let you rest, little prince,” Astarion murmured.  

His cool hand was firm and practiced in a way that Tav’s simply could not be, its deliberate movements incessantly urging Wyll towards a release. 

Wyll completely lost all traces of composure and simply moaned between Tav’s legs as Astarion worked him.  

“Can’t multi-task, darling?” Astarion teased. “That’s alright, I’ll finish that job myself later as well.” 

Wyll lifted himself on his arms, trying to push his hips back against Astarion’s as Tav slipped out from under him. 

“Alright, give him a peck, I know he wants one so desperately...” Astarion said begrudgingly. 

Tav returned to lift Wyll’s head and kissed him, tenderly, her tongue swirling and dancing against his, as Astarion continued to fuck and stroke him.  

“I said a peck! Gods, woman, offer you a hand – you'll take the whole arm, every time.” 

Astarion’s grip on Wyll’s cock tightened, his hand speeding up, until Wyll couldn’t take it anymore and finally erupted, crying out and whimpering into Tav’s mouth, as he spilled a thick and well overdue load onto the sheets as Astarion continued to stroke him.  

He was still gasping, trying to catch his breath when Astarion slid out of him, giving Wyll's ass a loud smack, before wiping himself and Wyll down.  

At last, Wyll collapsed on the bed next to Tav.  

“Gods...” was all he could muster.  

Astarion gave him a self-satisfied smirk as he joined them on the bed, kissing his way up Tav’s leg.  

“Now shall I show you how to actually satisfy a woman? So you know what to do with your ‘one and only’ later?” 

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed, this work is part of a series, check out the rest of it

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @leomonae @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate @mothmans-rotund-asscheeks @micebear @littlejuicebox @cool-ontherun-world @justagirlwithfeelz @jellymellydraws

[marta-diablo]

‘Noel and Julian were possibly aroused’: The Mighty Boosh turns 20 – in pictures

 ‘Something magic happens when they get together’

While filming the surreal comedy, Dave Brown AKA Bollo was on hand with a camera to snap awkward kisses, creepy venues … and crack foxes ordering pie and mash

Tony & Dennis (Series 3 – The Strange Tale of the Crack Fox, 2007)

Dave Brown: ‘Lunchtime on set was a feast for the eyes. It was always a treat seeing cast members milling about munching on a jacket potato with ridiculous full face of makeup, asking for more cheese on their beans. Here, Noel Fielding (Tony Harrison) and Julian Barratt (Dennis the Head Shaman) pose for a quick shot before tucking into their pasta bake. Behind the Boosh 20, an exhibition by Boosh cast member Dave Brown AKA Bollo, is at the pop-up Behind the Gallery, London, 10-13 October. All photographs Dave Brown

Up on the Roof (Series 3 – Party, 2007)

‘During a particularly long scene, Noel and Julian look a little nervous and possibly slightly aroused as they contemplate their upcoming big kiss scene. I love the light and composition of this shot’

Tony & Saboo (Series 3 – Eels, 2007)

‘This was a particularly special scene. On Head Shaman Dennis’s stag do, Saboo rubs sun cream into Tony Harrison’s smooth pink crease, saying: “Don’t leave it in thick blobs, rub it in. Factor seven?! Shit off! I need factor 67 you ball bag!” It was always a hilarious pleasure to witness Noel and Richard Ayoade riffing off of each other in scenes, kinda like jazz, but jazz on bikes. Two very funny humans in ridiculous costumes at the top of their game, trying to out laugh each other with hilarious absurdities’

Luna Looks (Luna Park, Melbourne comedy festival, 2001)

‘Noel throws me his best blue steel look beneath the giant face of Luna Park as I lie on the pavement among the chewing gum and cigarette butts trying to get the angle. Melbourne festival was always very special, such an amazing city with brilliant crowds’

Come Play With Us (Aberdeen Future Sailors Tour, Press and Journal Arena, 2008)

‘The last gig of an insane tour. A strange place to end things after 99 dates that included Brixton, Wembley, Manchester and Sheffield but still, it was a great gig. Rich Fulcher was doing his usual dicking about pre-show in the corridors, grooving to tunes, practising his fossil moves. As I walked around the corner he was at the end and the blue suit reminded me of the Shining twins. I took two shots of him stood holding his own hand then comped them together. Way more terrifying than Kubrick’s version’

Hitcher Nabootique (Series 3 – Eels, 2007)

‘Loved this set: the sign, the lighting and one of my favourite characters, the Hitcher. Him walking up to the door in the rain was just a perfect moment to capture. All undercut by the ridiculous graffiti. Not sure why “loose change” makes me laugh so much, it’s one of those perfect examples of Noel and Julian’s writing and their way with language’

Noel Draws (Noel’s House during the Future Sailors Tour, 2008)

‘I spent many an evening pre-tour and sometimes during tour, in my flat or at Noel’s place, scribbling artworks for tour posters, DVDs, the book. The two of us produced all of that material. Old art school mates getting busy with the fizzy. We could draw those Boosh faces in our sleep, which became a bit of a problem some nights on tour in posh hotels’

Moody Naboo (Series 3 – Journey to the Centre of the Punk, 2007)

‘Naboo was indeed an enigma. Often found gazing into the middle-distance meditating deep astral conundrums, solving some of the world’s biggest problems and answering those age-old impossible questions like what flavour Pot Noodle he was going to have later when watching Columbo. Here is one of those moments in-between scenes shooting series three in a warehouse in a disused Ministry of Defence site somewhere in Surrey’

Foxy Man (Series 3 – The Strange Tale of the Crack Fox, 2007)

‘One of my favourite characters: those two voices, the laugh, the costume and makeup, terrifyingly hilarious! This is me capturing Julian just after lunch break walking back on set. It was a wonderful vision seeing the Crack Fox stood upright on two legs by the catering van ordering pie and mash from a visibly disturbed catering assistant, all while the real hungry Hackney crack foxes looked on through distant bushes in awe and jealousy’

Fossil Faces (Series 3 Rehearsals – American International Church, London, 2007)

‘Rich isn’t really acting in The Boosh. The character Bob Fossil is 92.4% Fulcher. A force of nature, he will crush any down moment anyone is having with his comedy fists and have you wetting your little blue pants in a hot minute. These shots were taken during rehearsals for series three in the American church on Tottenham Court Road in London. It was a pretty intense afternoon with some writing issues and a few moody clouds brewing. Then Rich provides these six faces and everyone’s laughing again’

Hippy Boosh (Series 2 – The Call of the Yeti, 2005)

‘Vince, Parsley and Naboo in full Polyphonic Spree get-up in front of the big blue studio 11 doors at 3 Mills Studios in east London. We’d just been shooting the song scene in Call of the Yeti and I was still in my Bollo suit. It always amused me when cast and crew from other shows filming at 3 Mills would walk past and assume this show had a Gorilla as the official set photographer’

Bendelack Directing (Pilot Episode –Tundra, Pinewood Studios, 2003)

‘Steve Bendelack directed loads of our favourites: Lee and Herring, Newman and Baddiel, League of Gentlemen. So when he was directing the pilot episode of Arctic Boosh at Pinewood Studios it was a pinch-me moment. Paul King took over from Steve when the first series was commissioned by the BBC. Steve was no doubt busy on something else. Or maybe he swerved it? Stewart Lee, who directed Noel and Julian in the Arctic Boosh stage show for the Edinburgh fringe in the late 90s, said it was like ‘trying to direct smoke’

Mutant Readers (Series 1 – Mutants, 3 Mills Studios, 2004)

‘Mike [Fielding] having some down time in his dressing room sipping on a brew and glancing across at a coupon for 10p off Monster Munch. Two trained thespians sit beside him on the smallest sofa in Europe; one reads a crime novel and an unshaven Pete from Dixons in the middle reads about how Bolton are on the brink’

Graffiti (Series 3 – The (Power of the) Crimp, 2007)

‘I’ve known Noel for over 30 years and Julian for over 25. Something magic happens when those two get together. They’re one of the great double-acts. It was never easy getting a decent shot of them together. Noel on his own was easy; he’d spot a camera lens a mile away in heavy fog. Julian, on the other hand, was usually eating, talking, squinting those already tiny eyes or hiding somewhere in a cabinet. I love these two nincompoops like brothers’

x

[kalmiaphlox]

Crash Landing

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Astarion has never been a bat before. He's never wanted to be a bat before, but a little sneeze is all it took for him to be stuck as a disgusting rodent.

Wait- He can fly!

But maybe flying isn't all it's cracked up to be...

Main Tags: Batstarion, FLUFF!, Dadstarion, Established Relationship

Waking up next to Astarion is a new experience every time, and this morning is no exception. 

The moment she opens her eyes with a yawn, his head looms above hers, ruby eyes boring holes into her face as if she might dissolve into nothing if he looked away for even a moment.

“Any particular reason for being a weirdo this early?” Kalmia asks while placing a hand over his eyes, but he leans forward to nip at her fingers instead and once she pulls away, Astarion bares his teeth. “Ah, so no reason.”

“Do I need a reason when I'm with you, little wyrm?” He holds her wrist and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “I just want to see every side of you, even when you snore louder than a dragon… Oh, wait…!”

She pinches his nose. “Awe, the vampire has learned comedy this morning. How fun.” 

“I'll show you fu-” Astarion rears back, blinking in bewilderment. His nose scrunches up, sniffling before sneezing - violently.

She didn't even know vampires could sneeze.

Gone is the dastardly man with the killer good looks though. Just… gone from her sight. Kalmia sits up swiftly and an alarmed squeak brings her eyes down to the emerald green duvet. A fluffy white bat with overly large ears and a short, pink snout stares up at her with confused red eyes. 

Well, isn't this something? 

“My, oh my, irthiski, seems I'm not the only shape changer around.” She rubs at his fuzzy head with a finger, and in typical Astarion-fashion, he bares teensy fangs that shimmer like pearls. “What a cutie pie! I could eat you right up!”

That raises another squeak from him, though she can hear the rage burning behind it. How mighty it is, but a dragon does not cower from such things. 

“You should be able to speak normally, come on, use your words.” Kalmia nudges him a bit too hard, knocking him over on the sheets. “Oops, sorry!”

There's little grumbling noises that sound suspiciously like speaking, he must be getting a grasp of this new body, it'll take time. Astarion is wobbling around best he can, using his wings as crutches to stand up, the little hook at the end catching on the bedding so he gets stuck, letting out more angry squeaks.

Oh gods, her heart might explode from the cuteness.

“I'm going to pick you up, can't have you tearing all the bedding.” Gingerly, Kalmia wraps her hand around his fuzzy body, picking him up and offering her other hand as support beneath his legs.

The grunting finally becomes audible, “You- What have you…” His lungs aren't at their usual capacity, a full sentence is a struggle. “What have you done, you witch?!”

“Oh, I turn you into a cat once and now it's my fault?”

“What in the…" He gasps, "hells am I?” His small head is angling around to get a look at himself, but she'll do him one better.

The Truesight mirror, its shiny reflection and lacquered wood encasing reveals all.

They stand now in front of it, holding her hands out so Astarion can gaze upon his visage - his favorite activity, but definitely not hers. “You're a bat, irthiski. I've heard vampires can do this sometimes, but maybe you're a late bloomer.”

“Late bloomer-!” He erupts into more enraged squeaks and growls, almost completely falling off her hand before his grabby feet latch onto her finger on instinct, dangling precariously upside down. “A damned bat! I don't want to be this! Where's my beautiful body?!”

Ignoring his dramatics and pressing a smooch to his head, she smiles widely. “I know someone who would be very excited to see this sight.” And they depart from their room, striding into Izmezine's where the girl is just waking up. “Good morning, anon ! Who do you think this is?”

Izzy sits up, blinking her bleary eyes and rubbing them with a big yawn, before scrunching her button nose to inspect the white ball of fluff in Kalmia's hands. Her lips form into a frown, turning her head away in disgust. “It's ugly.” 

That was not the reaction I anticipated. 

The wail of anguish that leaves his tiny bat body is very impressive, if not over-reactive. Setting Astarion down on the bed, Izzy pulls away slightly, what a terrible start but Kalmia will fix this. “Izmezine, sweetie, please, this is your father. He's turned into a bat by accident. Let's be nice.” 

That gets Izzy to take a peek again, and she looks to Kalmia for confirmation. “T-Th-That’s my papa?”

“Yes.” 

Poor Astarion is trembling against the bed, the words of his daughter like a stake straight through his heart, but at least he's stopped crying. Izzy reaches forward hesitantly, brushing a finger against his fur and she gasps, “He's s-soft!” She goes back in for a more gentle pet, “W-Why is papa a-a baby?”

Finally finding his words again, Astarion speaks up, “I don't know, I just turned into a bat, but kitten, you think I'm ugly ?” That last word barely makes it out as a squeak. Gods, he's going to be hung up on that for ages.

Izzy scrutinizes him further, golden eyes narrowing and appraising the bat before her. “Uhm, a l-little ugly?” Kids are always so blunt, Astarion should feel lucky that Izzy has enough sense to walk her statement back. The gold eyes turn up to her now, “Kalli, I'm hungry.”

“Me too, let's go have breakfast. What would you like?” Kalmia scoops up the whinging bat and places him on her shoulder, then holds Izzy against her hip. 

“Cake!” Is Izzy's first breakfast suggestion.

“Normally I'd agree, but a cake takes a long time to make, how about we make one later and we can have some scones and jam now?”

The dhampir thankfully concedes to that idea and they settle in for an easy breakfast while bat-Astarion clumsily scrabbles along the counter, whining, “I'm hungry too, you know.”

Seems Kalmia isn't the only one that becomes ravenous when changed. “I'll get you food in a bit. Let me take care of my anon first.”

He collapses into a sad pile, crying endlessly, “My daughter thinks I'm ugly, my lizard is starving me. Where is the love?!”

Kalmia slathers some jam onto a scone, ignoring him, “Izzy, what would you like to do today?”

“Can p-papa go in my h-house?” She asks around a mouthful of food.

“Hmm,” Kalmia eyes the worming creature before her, the image of Astarion being stuffed into the doll house is hysterical, but… “I don't think he would like that. Bats are supposed to be able to fly, maybe we can help him learn.”

Both Izzy and Astarion perk up at that, their eyes shining with new possibilities. “You really think I can?” Astarion seems apprehensive at the prospect.

“I don't see why not, irthiski. We can try it out once you get some food.” With breakfast finished, Kalmia takes the bat downstairs, leaving Izzy with the task of gathering pillows and blankets. “What blood do you want?”

“Yours.”

She brings the bat in her hands close to her face, “If you have it now, you can't have it later.”

More grumbling follows, “Fine, get me a glass of the boar.”

Filling a goblet to the top, Kalmia rests them both on their desk. Astarion's little wing hooks grab onto the lip and he shimmies his little body up the length of it, long tongue lapping up the blood. She watches quietly with her head tucked between her hands as a red stain begins to bloom along his snout and neck as he drinks. 

“Kalli! The-The blankies and p-pi-pillows are ready!” Izmezine shouts down the stairs.

Astarion pulls away, flopping down to the desk, “I'm full.” The goblet's halfway empty now, she's impressed by his apetite. They return upstairs now after a cleanup, finding the sitting room absolutely covered in blankets and pillows. 

Setting her bat on the couch, Kalmia gives Izzy a big kiss on her cheek and squeezes her into a tight hug, “I knew I could count on you to go above and beyond! Wow, look at all this coziness!” 

The girl giggles in her arms and Astarion pouts, crossing his wings in a pitiful stance, “What about me? ”

“I didn't forget you, irthiski!” Kalmia showers his tiny head in kisses and Izmezine does the same. He melts at their love. “I don't know how different it is from being a dragon, but my first time flying was… a little wild, you know? I think my mother just threw me off a cliff a few times until I got it. Be thankful for our care, Astarion.”

Izzy nods like she completely understands the lengths they are going to take care of him and he scoffs, “Your mother is a brute.” Kalmia only remembers those days with fondness, he wouldnt understand.

“No! Nafl i-is nice!” Izzy corrects him with a tap to the snout.

“I turn into a rodent and you both gang up against me? Where is the-”

Kalmia interrupts, “Enough. This should come somewhat naturally to you, but we'll start here on the couch and move up in height, ok? Now get to flapping.”

His beady little eyes glare at her and she just smiles sharply back. He's testy, big or small. With a despondent huff, Astarion shuffles along to the edge of the couch, stretching his leathery wings and shaking them out. 

The first few attempts end with an immediate face plant to the ground, and while he may not admit it, Astarion is very thankful for the pillows now. The fifth attempt though? His wings find the right rhythm and angle, so he glides down to the end of their makeshift protections. More tries are made, his gliding and flapping now consistent. 

Kalmia and Izzy erupt into applause, and she isn't quite sure if she imagines the blush on those little bat cheeks. “Higher now, Astarion?”

“Yes, yes!” He's glowing with pride at his newfound capabilities. Raising him up to the fireplace ledge, he huddles on the ledge peering down to the blanket laden ground. “Alright, I can do this.”

Izzy cheers from the sidelines, “Papa can f-fly!”

With one step, Astarion dives over the edge, flapping vigorously to maintain his height, and it sticks. He's flitting about excitedly, if not a little haphazardly, cackling gleefully. Kalmia, while very happy for Astarion, is concerned he's being too reckless. “ Irthiski, you should slow down and watch where you're going!”

His head whips to her, “Never! Nothing can sto-!” and he smashes head first into a wall, crumbling to a heap of bat limbs on the floor. Izzy shrieks, running over to his still form.

The downside to an undead partner? Can't really tell what kind of damage they've sustained because they don't breath or exhibit any of the normal symptoms.

Astarion is probably fine though. 

I hope.

“Don't worry, Izzy, your father will be ok. He'll just need to… sleep that off.” Kalmia strokes the girl's head, whose eyes are welling with large tears. “We should find him somewhere to rest.” She is concerned that he's not changing back… but vampires don't die that easily, no matter how small they are.

Izzy zips downstairs and returns with two doll-sized beds, laying them down by the fireplace with extra bedding so it's very cozy. Kalmia assists in putting his bat-self onto the bed and covering him with blankets. “Kalli, m-ma-make a f-fire! Papa’s c-cold!” Stacking some logs, Kalmia breathes fire onto them, stoking the flames until the room is toasty. With a sniffle, Izzy lays out next to her father and rests her hand on him, “I take c-care of papa.”

“I know you will. You watch over him so I can get lunch started, ok? We can eat here.” Kalmia kisses her forehead before setting off to the kitchen. 

It's always an adventure with them.

++++

Over an hour later, Izzy has fallen asleep looking after Astarion's limp body, which hasn't even twitched all this time. 

Maybe it's time to take matters into her own hands. 

Or fingers.

Pricking the tip of her index finger, Kalmia places it up against Astarion's bat snout, hoping the pooling blood will work like vampire smelling salts.

And of course it does, she should have thought of this earlier. 

His snout wiggles side to side, seeking out the delicious scent before him, and begins licking at the drop the moment he makes contact. Red eyes blink open, looking haggard, “What- What happened?”

Kalmia picks up her sad bat, cradling him in her arms, “You crashed into the wall going much too fast. Izmezine took very good care of you, so you should thank her once she's up.”

“How do I change back? If I spend another moment like this, I'm going to become quite cross with-”

“Hush, you're always angry. I normally just think about being me, so maybe try that?” 

Astarion goes silent for a while, so he must be trying anything to be himself again. Nothing happens though and he grumbles unhappily, “This is stupid. I don't want to be stuck as a flying rodent for the rest of my life. How will Izmezine be able to introduce me to people? ‘ Oh, come meet my father! The bat? Yes, that's him!’ Kalmia, I can't stay like this!”

“Shall I tickle your nose? A sneeze seemed to set it off the first time.”

His bat face goes through a range of emotions, before settling on sadness, “This is so unbecoming, but fine. Do it.”

Kalmia locates a feather pretty quickly, Gale has quills laying out everywhere, and lightly shuffles the tip across Astarion's nose. His nose wrinkles but nothing happens, and he folds in on himself in defeat. 

“I'm sorry, irthiski. We'll figure something out.” She does feel terribly for him, nothing is worse than being stuck in a form at the wrong time. She knows it well.

“Mmm, papa?” Izzy’s sleep laden voice pulls their attention as she starts grabbing at the doll beds, but realizes nothing is there, so she shoots up, alarmed. “Papa?! Wh-Where are y-you?”

“I have him, anon, it's ok.” 

Crawling over, Izzy pets her father, also seeming sad that he's still stuck like this. Who's going to read the bedtime story for them?

But if Astarion continues to be a bat, might as well take advantage of this opportunity. “You know, Izzy, I think he's kind of dirty. We should bathe him.”

The girl's eyes light up, “Yes!”

“What?! What do you think-” Astarion begins to shout.

Kalmia presses a finger against his snout. “You've been outvoted. Accept your fate.”

He whines and complains all the way downstairs, and once the bath is filled a few inches deep, she settles the little bat in. Izzy gets to work swiftly, wetting his fur and carefully working in the shampoo. Kalmia assists from the sidelines, but Izzy has it handled. 

Astarion's taking this with as much grace as possible, letting Izmezine do as she pleases, because there is never a world in which he would deny her.

But this time must come to an end, it seems.

He makes a strange noise, like a sharp intake of breath, and sneezes, splashing water everywhere when a vampire reappears where a bat once sat.

His resting clothes are soaked and Astarion is absolutely covered in soap, hair flattened against his head as he sneers at the two of them. ‘You two have had a lot of fun today. I think daddy needs some payback.” Izzy and Kalmia both shriek with laughter as they attempt to run, but Astarion grabs them both, dragging them into the tub, turning the water on. “If I had to suffer, then so should you!”

Once they're all soaking wet and giggling, they climb out of the bathtub, drying off, Kalmia has a new idea. “Ready to make a cake, Izzy?”

The girl jumps up and down in excitement, “I w-want pink frosting!”

“Any requests, irthiski?”

He runs a towel over Izzy's curls, “One of Gale's nice bottles of wine. I'm just… going to lie down, my body hurts.”

Kalmia laughs, “You'll get used to it.”

“Ugh, I sure hope not. If I never turn into a rodent again, it will still be too soon.”

++++

Notes:-anon = flower (draconic) -nafl (short for nafldask) = grandmother (draconic)

[mahou-furbies]

Closing thoughts on Wonderful Precure!

The season I wrote off as a complete dud turned out to actually have a lot of good stuff going on.

First things first, I'm in the camp that thinks the lack of fights is an issue. The structure of having an obligatory fight per episode isn't good (though it's not much use complaining about it), but I don't think the chase scenes were good either and just felt more limp in comparison. I can only manage with them from the angle that at least they're doing something different this time, but if we must have a mandatory action scene in every episode I really wish they'll go back to proper battles with hand to hand combat elements.

Story wise the early season also felt weak and aimless when we knew so little about the plot and didn't have a single identifiable antagonist. Which did leave more space for the character stuff, but early season Iroha was an absolute bore for me and Komugi was actively annoying for most of the time, so getting through the first dozen or so episodes was quite a struggle for me. However when the cat duo started to be more relevant the season improved dramatically, and showed its true strength with the character writing.

Komugi is a character that was never going to be very appealing to me, I just can't with these pinkie pie style hyper and cutesy types. And since she's written as… shall we say more childlike than the average Cure, her inner world is less complex and a lot of time results in her scenes being very samey. In general the reasons I don't care for her are largely same as why I don't like baby mascots when I think about it.

However in Komugi's defense I have to say that it feels so absurdly fresh that she (and Yuki too for that matter) keep being written as pets. Some of my main complaints about this franchise are how the Cures' interpersonal relationships all meld into one mushy group where everyone is just besties with everyone, and the fact that the unique origins of nonhuman Cures (like mascot based or anyone from a fantasy realm) are quickly forgotten. But that was very much not the case here, Iroha and Komugi's relationship never felt like regular friends, or even sisters, and instead was distinctly recognisable as a girl and her pet. And Komugi was written consistently and was used well in several scenes, so begrudgingly I'll have to say she is a net positive for the franchise, even though I wish we won't have a Cure like her again.

Let's do Iroha next, she was less expressly annoying but also had very little to offer, like we've seen this kind of main girl in Precure so many times already. That is until the confession & date and the pet death episodes, where she was finally given something interesting to do. But outside those she was fairly generic to me.

The cat duo worked a lot better for me. Mayu started off as a pretty standard shy-and-quiet girl, but the decision to make her a shipper really made her stand out. The scenes where she is hyped for SatoIro were comedy gold, and her teasing Satoru gave her a playful side and also further exemplified that the characters have distinct relationship with each other. And they even managed to tie this into the main plot when she also started to ship the antagonists with each other!

Not suprisingly Yuki was my favourite Cure, I am so ready for a lower energy character who has this dismissive and aloof energy about her. Yet another of my common Precure complaints is that everyone is always super into whatever throwaway activity is going on in an episode, and it's so rare to have someone who genuinely isn't that interested. She has the most distinct arc out of the Cures too. And it's super funny when a serious character does something dumb so her going into cat mode in human form was always great.

Then we have Satoru who was just super wholesome, up there as the best Precure boy with Cure wing for me, though it was a little disappointing how he didn't really get to become a Cure. I'll take the moment in the finale but it's just so little. Meanwhile Daifuku… might just be my favourite character in the show, like there's more to analyse about the others but he's just so cute, never annoying, and has this excellent serious energy about him. I also really liked Mey-Mey and Niko, Mey-Mey had a fun comedic presence and a good chemistry with Satoru, and Niko's powerful and dignified deity energy made a fun combo with her somewhat self-important and chaotic side.

I want to give a shoutout to the date episode, which earns a spot in the list of the best episodes in the entire franchise. Just an overall really well directed episode where every character got to shine.

Overall this season lands in the mid tier for me, it has a lot of good stuff but also a lot that was just boring or annoying. Which is a lot better finish than I ever expected so that is worth celebrating.

[sir-libearian]

Ian Lefebvre and Izzy Hands parallels

Ian Lefebvre is a single Episode character played by Con O'neill in the show, "Pie in the Sky" 1995. Like ofmd, this show is theoretically a light-hearted comedy, but Con's character doesn't really experience it as such, and I'm forever losing my mind about it. But since Ian is a pretty much unknown character there’s no one to scream with.

In Brief, Ian is a British police officer who was shot, paralyzing both his legs. He was kept on the force mainly as a “diversity” hire/ for the look of the thing, while being unwanted and resented. He has a lot of anger about the situation and the ableism he faced, but is treated by the narrative as being in the “wrong” for that anger. 

So, Izzy & Ian parallels that make me emotional:

Internalized and externalized ableism

Fears (correctly, in Ian’s case) that their jobs just kept them on out of pity/guilt. “But I can hardly show him the door. He hangs around here like an uninvited guest at a wedding.” 

Alcoholism / bad coping / self medicating

Told by the narrative that they need to move on/ forgive what was done to them, that it’s their anger hurting them, etc.

Queer subtext. “Statistically speaking we should have at least one homosexual, though we don’t know who he is.” (meaningful look up and down) “Yet.” 

Angry sweary bastard (affectionate) 

Chronic pain

People trying to push his chair around, open doors for him, etc. Portrayed as wrong or irrational for declining and being angry when it keeps happening. 

brusk/ rude at first meeting. 

“I don’t think there’s any great mystery about Lefebvre seeming tense sir.” The man who shot him getting out of prison this week. 

Nightmares reliving being shot, trauma. 

Other characters treat being asked to work with him as an unpleasant inconvenience. 

Terrible failure at flirting

Suicidal Ideation. “If you keep on drinking and taking painkillers at the same time you will, eventually, kill yourself.” “Good.” 

“I didn’t choose this fate, it chose me. Anyway it’s not so much the length of it, it’s the depth. It’s not so much how long I live, but what I feel when I’m alive. (the pain.) Maybe this is true of us all, but circumstances rather shoved it in my face.” 

“He’s got to let people in. If you do anything for him he immediately throws it right back in your face.” 

“If he’d just let it go.”

“Is that your devil?” “He took away my legs.” … “You’ve got to forget about him.” “Forget?” “In as much as you can, yes. Put him out of your mind.” 

[lovelybucky1]

Neil trying to be cool to get the attention of a client (disinterested in him) being totally cringe and geeky with his movie recommendations

im a filmbro just like neil so i really resonate with this

my inbox is open for requests!

warnings: one mention of sexual content, mild mentions of violence, neil being a geek with zero rizz

masterlist

It’s not often hot people walk into Gumshoe Video. There’s the regulars, the families, the loser film bros who are there at least four times a week, the teens who try to rent pornos, and old people looking for the classics.

When you walked in, Neil almost dropped his fast food cup filled with Dr. Pepper. You’re exactly his type, and he pushed the other employees out of the way so he could be the one to help you.

“Hi, I’m Neil. How can I be of service?” he greets you, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You look down at his name tag and note that it says owner underneath his name.

“I don’t need any help, thanks,” you smile politely and continue walking. You aren’t trying to be rude, but you had a long day at work and this puppy dog of an employee is only going to get on your nerves.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” he asks, following you down the aisle.

You sigh. “No, just something to watch.”

“We have a huge selection. What’s your favorite genre?”

You resign yourself to the fact that this man is going to be up your ass until you leave the store.

“I don’t know. Action? Comedy?”

“Well, right over here we have Fast and Furious.” You wrinkle your nose. “We also have The Dark Knight.”

“Uh, no thanks. The villains in those movies are always so cheesy.”

Neil hums and scans the shelves, looking at the collection of videos for rent. “If you want a comedy we have Daddy Daycare, Superbad, American Pie…”

“I think I’ll just look around myself-”

“Or if you want something classic, we have Citizen Kane, Casablaca, The Godfather, Apocalypse Now-”

“Look, Neil,” you sigh. “I appreciate the suggestions but I really don’t need any help.”

Feeling rejected but not letting it show, Neil nods and steps away. “If you need anything, I’ll be behind the counter.”

You nod and watch him walk away before turning to browse the movie selection by yourself. It takes you a while to find anything that you were interested in, but you settled on Friday the 13th. It’s not what you’d usually go for, but your life needs a little excitement here and there.

From across the store, you could hear the other employees ridiculing Neil for “striking out”, though you’d have to argue that he never even got up to bat.

When you walk up to the counter to rent the movie, no one is to be found. You look around and find a bell on the counter labeled ring for assistance. You hit the button and the bell rings, and immediately following the chime is a thud and a curse. You peak over the counter to see Neil crouched underneath it, rubbing the top of his head.

He stands up and looks at you, putting on a charming smile like he didn’t just embarrass himself.

“All set?” he asks.

“Yep,” you reply shortly, handing him the box.

“Friday the 13th,” he reads. “That’s a good one. You didn’t tell me you’re into horror.”

“I’m not really. Just wanted a change,” you reply, figuring if you engage in his small talk, he’ll let you off the hook sooner.

“Did you know this was filmed at a real summer camp in New Jersey?” You shake your head. “It’s still operational, actually. The only set piece they had to build was the bathroom; everything else was already there.”

“That’s really interesting,” you smile, lying.

Unfortunately that was the wrong thing to say, because it made him perk up. “If you think that’s interesting, wait until you hear this…” He ducks under the counter again and comes back up with another movie in hand. “Scream was based on a series of real murders in the 90s. Ghostface was based of the Gainesville Ripper who killed five students in Florida. He wore a black ski mask, which was the inspiration for the movie.”

Neil must have noticed your concerned face and stopped.

“Uh, sorry. I guess giving a stranger facts about a serial killer is kind of weird,” he chuckles.

He scans your movie, swipes your card and prints out your receipt. Before he handed it to you, he scribbled something at the bottom.

“Thank you for renting from Gumshoe Video. Have a nice day,” he smiles.

You give him a polite smile back and on the way out of the door, you look down at the paper in your hand. He wrote what looks to be a phone number, but his handwriting is too messy for you to make out the digits.

[pascaloverx]

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter Nine

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

Notes:

In this chapter, we have an extra character, whom I'd like you to imagine as the actor Enzo Vogrincic. He'll only appear in this chapter and the next one and is not a romantic interest. And for those who enjoy the fanfic, I appreciate if you reblog or like. Thank you to everyone who is following the fic.

chapter eight chapter ten

You didn't want to go to your mother's house without Pedro, but in the end, it was for the best. This way, you avoid confusing what is work with what is your personal life. After nearly five hours of driving, you arrived at your mother's house. She lives in a small but very cozy town. It almost seems like the hometown of a romantic comedy protagonist. You're nervous about seeing her after she probably expected to see you with your famous boyfriend and you came alone.

"Y/N, be careful. Your mom was picking up laundry and almost fell into a hole." A very familiar male voice shouts to you as soon as you park the car, which Pedro insisted you take.

"Enzo, is that you?" You ask as you carefully avoid every patch of dirt in front of you, afraid of falling into any hole. Enzo then takes your hand, as if he wants to guide you, and leads you closer to him. Which wouldn't be weird at all if he weren't your ex.

"Your mom asked me to come over for dinner with you tonight. She said it would be good for both of us to see each other. I think she's trying to convince you to stay. By the way, sorry for the closeness, but I think if you stay close to me, there's less chance of falling into a mysterious hole and avoiding breaking your foot." Enzo says as he holds you close to his body. You look at him, analyzing the situation, and understand that you've fallen into a maternal trap.

"She called you here to convince me to stay and get married, have kids, and a little house in the countryside, right?" You ask, already knowing your mother. Enzo has always been a great friend of yours, and during a brief phase of your life, you thought he would make a good boyfriend. And he did. But when you decided to move to the big city, where there are celebrities and dreams could become reality, Enzo thought it best to set you free. Unfortunately for you, your mother hasn't gotten over it.

"I tried to tell her that you're dating a big Hollywood actor, but it didn't work. Good luck convincing her of that. " Enzo says as he holds your hand tightly and leads you towards your mother's house. She, in turn, must be cooking.

"It's about that..." You ponder whether you should clarify that you're not actually dating a famous person and are just pretending to be in a relationship with one.

"I'm happy for you. You deserve to be happy with a good man, and from what I've heard, Pedro Pascal seems like a great guy." Enzo says as you enter your mother's house.

"My dear, I see you've found Enzo. Did he tell you that he just built a house and is working as a carpenter in town?" Your mother says as she holds a chicken pie in her hands. You start to take off your coat and leave your things on the living room couch.

"Yeah, Mom, I found my ex-boyfriend that you invited to our dinner. I'm really happy that he's doing well and that he built a house." And the atmosphere at your mother's house gets even better. 

"Thinking that you could be living with him in that house if you hadn't run away to live an adventure." Your mother speaks clearly trying to hit you in your weak spot. She never accepted that you left, mainly because she thought you would follow in her footsteps. Being a housewife with a working husband. 

"Mom, forget about it. Enzo is a good man and deserves a good person by his side. But that person would never be me. And besides, I'm doing fine. I'm even dating an extremely kind and famous man." Yes, you know. Bragging about a fake relationship makes you seem pathetic.

"My daughter. Don't get me wrong, but a relationship with such different people, taking into account that you are a simple woman and he is a celebrity, is doomed to failure. The most you could get out of all this is the reputation of being a freeloader. What I don't want for you. So maybe it's time for you to become more realistic."  Your mother says in a high-pitched tone, but sounding like she takes pity on you.

"As famous as my boyfriend is, he is a person who is capable of being in a relationship and not paying attention to nonsense like that. And if you haven't noticed, I'm being realistic. My reality is that I found a good man, with whom I am having a relationship. He's famous and that's just a detail." 

"So where is he now? If this relationship is so real, where is your boyfriend, my daughter?" Your mother responds, clearly upsetting you, but before you can reply, you hear Enzo shout from outside the house for the two of you to come to the front. You and she quickly go to see what happened and come across a strange car arriving. Enzo seems worried that it might be one of the neighbors my mother dislikes coming to pick a fight, but you recognize the car minutes after it's parked.

"I hope I'm not too late. I was shooting a commercial, but I brought some good wine to make up for the delay. I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Pedro Pascal says as he gets out of the car with a dozen roses and a bottle of wine. You're speechless while Enzo and your mother seem incredulous.

"What do you mean, darling? What boyfriend lets his girlfriend come alone to her family's house?" Pedro says, still with his lips close to yours. He then turns around, holding the bouquet of flowers towards your mother.

"So you really are my daughter's boyfriend?" Your mother says as she holds the bouquet of flowers as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

"I really am, you can believe it. What fake boyfriend would come here to introduce himself to his mother-in-law?" Pedro Pascal asks as he approaches your mother to hug her, who seems even happy to be meeting him. Enzo still looks lost, and you laugh seeing the scene. Here in this little town, a celebrity appearing is like a comet falling.

"See, Mom? I told you this relationship was real." You say, hugging Pedro Pascal from the side, laying your head on his chest, as if to make it clear how comfortable you are.

"I confess that until now I thought all of this was a farce, and I still think so. But I'm a polite woman. So whether you're my daughter's boyfriend or not, you're invited to dinner. In fact, let's go in now, the food is getting cold. Enzo, you can come in too." Your mother says, entering the house, and Enzo follows right behind. Pedro gently pulls you by the arm.

"Who is that man, and why is your mother looking at me as if I'm suspicious of something?" Pedro asks, close to you. So close that you feel like kissing him.

"Well, that man is my ex-boyfriend, Enzo. He's a nice guy, and I'm pretty sure he's a fan of yours. My mother, on the other hand, doesn't believe we're dating and she's all grumpy and suspicious, so use your acting skills and make her believe in this relationship, understood?" You say, then give Pascal a peck on the lips, noticing that your mother and Enzo are eavesdropping on your conversation.

"Alright, love, let's convince your mother that you and I are a beautiful, loving couple." Pedro Pascal says as he approaches you and subtly kisses your cheek, pulling you inside your mother's house. And you go in hoping it will be a good experience.

tag: @wanniiieeee , @hungrhay and @leilanixx

[italoniponic]

Caught | Trey Clover

Synopsis: Because of your difficulties with alchemy class, you asked for Trey’s help to study. However, as Heartslabyul is full of problems and crazy people, the moment between you two is interrupted. Many, many times.

Trey Clover x gender neutral reader / fluff / a bit of comedy / established relationship / use of “you” pronouns

Word count: 1327k words | Masterlist

Notes: This was something I wrote a long, long time ago. It was basically lost among my fics files but since it’s Trey, I decided that I could share a little bit of “general Trey appreciation” once in a while. Stan the baker glasses boy to good cakes and better kitchen skills!

Caught

Trey’s voice was sweet and clear, filling the room with an incredible sense of comfort as if you two were actually in the kitchen preparing a cake together. But he was only reading the contents of the book of alchemy. Nothing else.

You were split on whether the idea of asking your boyfriend to help you study had been good. On the one hand, the theoretical content seemed much more understandable when it was explained by him. On the other hand, having Trey by your side in bed and having his voice so close to your ears was also becoming an immense distraction.

What to do in such cases? You were at a crossroads between pushing yourself to pay attention and not falling into the temptation of putting your head on Trey’s shoulder to finally fall into the world of dreams. His bed was large and comfortable, the cotton blanket had a very nice smell of cinnamon.

“Are you paying attention to the alchemy lesson?,” Trey asked suddenly.

The question shook you a little, putting you back to reality. Despite this, his tone wasn’t impatient. In fact, it was quite teasing.

“I’m trying,” you replied. “But next time, we’ll study in the library. It’s too comfortable here.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?,” Trey raised one of his eyebrows, his smile widening more.

“Because... uh... you... your room... I d-don’t have to answer! Just believe me!”

Trey let a little laugh slip away. 

How difficult it was to please such a simple person sometimes! But he understood what you were saying. He was also almost dozing off himself with the first-year’s alchemy theory book, a part of the subject he thought he would never have to deal with again in life. It was the reason Trey had become used to writing down Crewel’s lessons so as not to fall asleep in class.

However, being there reading that boring content on a bed that practically begged for someone to take a rest in and right next to the one he loved the most, his desire was to stretch out and leave study for later. 

Just to lay side by side, no much more than that. Letting the afternoon go by while they held a tea party in their Wonderland. 

But if anyone caught them in those conditions, Trey would hear a lecture from Riddle as if his own mother, Mrs. Clover, were there.

“Why don’t we go to Ramshackle, then?,” he suggested.

“The ghosts always interrupt us and Grim gets bored very easily. It would be the two of us running after him and preventing some good old chaos,” you explained, laughing a little while remembering how the cat must have been sleeping alone in your room. “Well, only when I’m around at least.”

“Heartslabyul is a quieter dorm in your opinion?”

“Of course I do. You all have a great leader and an amazing, super-responsible and caring vice…,” you touched the tip of the young man’s nose. “... that is you!”

Trey smiled and stared into the depths of his beloved one’s eyes. He was happy that his company was so dear to you and you saw him in such a positive way. This made Trey wish to reward you for words and confidence. Could he make you a cake? Maybe a pie? A Coconut “little kiss”? Or, who knows, another type of kiss.

Noticing the new glow of Trey’s big honey eyes behind his glasses, you had a small premonition of what you were going to receive. 

You closed your eyes and waited for Trey to get closer. When you two could practically feel your breaths collide, someone knocked on the door.

“Clover-senpai!,” you both moved away the moment Deuce entered. “Ace is making the flamingos fight and helding bets on them!”

You held back from asking how the whole thing was possible when you heard your boyfriend take a deep breath.

“Grab the flamingos’ food and drive them back to the fence. It won’t take too long before they stop fighting,” Trey explained. “And hit Ace on the head for me.”

Deuce nodded and gave a small embarrassed nod to the couple. The door quickly closed, welcoming again the comfortable silence of the room.

You approached each other again, returning to your original positions. You held Trey’s nape, preventing him from escaping again and he held your free hand. The book of alchemy became a mere souvenir, forgotten somewhere in the blanket. You could feel Trey’s lips rubbing so close to you when a squealing sound suddenly became audible. 

The door opened yet again.

You somehow jumped in the best spy action movie stunt move off the bed and stopped with your knees on the floor to face Ace, whose torso was clamped by some pink flamingo’s legs. However, that’s not what the freshman came to warn you.

“Clover-senpai! Deuce is choking on a hedgehog cub!”

“How?!,” you both questioned at the same time.

“I… m-mean… the flamingo may have accidentally made a shot on the hedgehog and it flew right into Deuce’s mouth. At least the poor thing didn’t fall into the flamingos stable like last time,” Ace scratched his hair, half relieved, half worried.

“Are you talking about Deuce or the hedgehog in that last part?,” you asked more concerned.

“It doesn't matter,” Trey interrupted. He was getting tired of all this. “Do the Heimlich maneuver and Deuce will be able to spit out the hedgehog. Now, stop throwing things at him! And don’t make the flamingos fight anymore!”

“O-okay.”

Ace then paused for a moment, thinking about inquiring about your presence there but he ultimately gave up. Instead, he closed the door and ran away. More quacks were heard along the way — the flamingo very happy for the new ride.

You two gave up on trying to kiss again and just layed together on the same pillow, equally tired. You turned to face Trey’s exhausted expression but you smiled as you saw him play with one lock of your hair. Trey took off his glasses for a moment and closed his eyes, enjoying that moment of silence while it could still last.

You also closed your eyes, hugging your boyfriend’s torso. The scent of cinnamon — with light touches of vanilla — seemed stronger than before. Suddenly, peace was reestablished and you were in your own world again. Nothing could interrupt this sweet moment.

“Trey! I swear I’ll exterminate this entire dorm someday!,” Riddle opened the bedroom door and entered in pure rage. “A group of seniors did the favor of burning three cakes in the kitchen! Flamingos and hedgehogs are all over the place! Roses everywhere! Ink spilled where even the Queen of Hearts could doubt! And... u-uh... er… eh!”

Riddle suddenly stopped, his eyes stuck on the bed where the couple were together and were trying to sleep. Trey sat down and stared at his childhood friend, although completely blurry. And the fact alone that he was trying to focus his sight in vain was quite nervous and intimidating. But mildly unintentionally. 

I said, mildly.

You turned around in time to see Riddle’s face intensely colored red and he looked away.

Extremely embarrassed, Riddle walked around a few times until he finally reached the exit and closed the door quietly. Or at least, you both wanted him to stay that way.

“Anyone who dares to interrupt Trey and the Prefect’s moment of intimate privacy again will lose their heads!,” Riddle threatened the whole dorm in a loud voice.

Trey hid his face in his hands, wanting the floor to swallow him. He knew that Riddle tried to help you with all the good intentions but he couldn’t have had the most awful time to misinterpret the situation you were in.

It was the first time you had seen your boyfriend so embarrassed and flustered since he was forced to sing at a surprise karaoke night organized by Cater.

“L-library?,” you suggested hesitantly.

“Please…”

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Goofy bucktommy prompts: some busker plays a song as they're walking past. One of them twirls the other into a dance, right there on the street

Send Me Ridiculous BuckTommy Prompts

I'd call this more cute than goofy, but I shall allow it 😆

That's Amore

So, Tommy wouldn't say that he usually took boyfriends back to locations where they had terrible, terrible dates.

But.

Evan had been asking about pizza. He had been talking about how it was healthy to go to places and have better memories there.

Not.

Avoid them.

And, well, yeah, maybe Tommy hadn't been back to the Miceli's since that date. Possibly because of how the date went down. And it wasn't as if Tommy didn't like Miceli's anymore. It was a good thing to go back.

And, you know, it was actually pretty close to where Tommy lived.

Tommy had made the poor choice to live in Hollywood of all places. Great house. Fantastic garage. The Time's Square of neighborhoods. But hey, it was nice to walk to Miceli's from his house, holding hands with Evan Buckley.

And, okay, it was kind of cute when they turned the corner only to hear a busker sing, "When the moon hits your eye; Like a big pizza pie, that's Amore!"

Like they were in an actual romantic comedy.

And Tommy hadn't expected it.

People didn't just spin Tommy. It wasn't a thing people thought about doing usually, really. But he found himself a little lightheaded as Evan twirled him to one of the most ridiculously cheesy songs in the world.

And.

It didn't even look like Evan had expected himself to do that. But he was still smiling, nonetheless. And Tommy - his smile grew so large that he was scrunching his nose.

And.

And maybe they danced a bit.

Which was sappy and almost too saccharine to be real. Laughing and dancing along as the busker kept singing about Amore!

And Tommy didn't want to be anywhere else but here.

[fukia]

Fun Peanuts character facts

Linus

Linus used to say “Bang” a lot before he could really talk, mostly to mess with his sister (ie, respond to her pestering) or deal with other people

He gave Violet a bundle of French fries wrapped with a rubber band once…

has a weird set of otherworldly abilities; blowing cubed balloons, talking to leaves (stars too), asking a beachball to return from the ocean if I recall correctly, petting birds and getting them to like him

Linus gets increasingly stronger and more blunt/threatening towards Snoopy for constantly trying to take his blanket

Linus wants to be a doctor most of the time

Offered to shared his blanket with Charlie a few times

Kissed Peppermint patty on the cheek to comfort her; “Like this, sweetie?”

Kissed Frieda’s hand after she expressed that carrying a blanket around isn’t a bad thing

He gives a girl named Eudora his blanket because her smile was cute - he regrets it and fails to retrieve it himself - she kisses him on the cheek, calling him a “sweet babboo” - Eudora is Sally’s friend lol

Schroeder

Charlie introduced piano & Beethoven to him

As a baby, Charlie put him in front of a real piano (as opposed to his toy one) and he cried

He specifically said baseball is one of his loves, besides playing music & Beethoven

Found baby Linus fascinating as he resembled Beethoven

Before Lucy was obnoxious to him, he told Charlie that Lucy has beautiful eyes

Threatened to beat up Lucy if she scratches his piano with her elbows

When Lucy moved briefly, he missed her presence; some say it’s out of character, [I think he doesn’t miss her as a person at all but he does miss the routine of having someone who listens to his classical playing even if it’s for shallow reasons, idk I sorta relate]

Regularly listens to Charlie Brown’s venting back in the day

The one character who stands up for Charlie Brown (multiple times)

Spoke in agreement with the girls that Charlie looked cute surrounded by dandelions

Whatever subtext in that 70’s Blue Boy strip

Charlie Brown

Was briefly a couple (of sorts) with Violet

Violet had a weird mud pie era where she’d serve them to Charlie and Charlie would consume them

Enjoyed messing with the girls back in the day, I’d say he’s capable of being a subtle tease aged up

Has gone on a carnival date with Peppermint Patty

Often cheers up Linus and defends him from Lucy

Often defends and shows interest in Schroeder’s love of music - he went out of his way to save Schroeder’s piano from the kite-eating tree and the sewers after the nonsense Lucy pulled

Was the original one to lean on Schroeder’s piano, they often engage in actual, normal conversation

Often seen reading to Schroeder Beethoven’s biography or Mozart’s

Schroeder and Charlie Brown tried to play music together a few times but they could never find fitting music for the improvised instruments Charlie would bring

Makes conversation with the kite-eating tree; has offered to feed it a kite in defeat and also bit the tree out of revenge (the tree world fall in a following strip)

Has some sort of mommy thing goin on

“Poor, sweet baby”

Edited to add: Lucy has a weird thing for Charlie’s “toesies”

Sally

Started off kinda picked on by the other kids like her brother but grows up to be more assertive

Has a penchant for comedy

She talks to a fucking school building and it “talks” to her

The school building falls for her???

She talks to the new building after the previous one fucking collapses

Marcie

Had a guy named Floyd call her “lambcake” and cute

She thinks she’s not cute

When she’s angry, she hits well

Definitely has a fighting spirit and a stubbornness that flares up

Says she doesn’t like sports but does decently at it

Speaks fluent French

Edited to add: says she’s not ready for a boyfriend but would marry Charlie Brown

Franklin

He’s like the nicest character

He’s the sanest; he left Charlie’s neighborhood thinking it was weird

I just think it’s funny how he actually finds the running gag personality traits of the others so strange, I had to include him despite his minimal appearances

Pig Pen

Got picked on a bit in the early days for his dirtiness; but he handles it better than Charlie Brown, he doesn’t seem to really mope

Apparently enjoys cleaning and taking baths, he just gets dirty real quick

Charmed Peppermint Patty into falling in love (the two enter a sort of unofficial relationship)

Peppermint Patty

Has a sentimentality that mirrors Chuck

Her dad calls her a “rare gem”

Says she likes beautiful material things, earrings, and certain sparkly outfits too

Originally pierced only one ear

Her nose is big and she’s real sad about it

Really likes to take moments with Charlie to be sentimental; often talks about how she wishes to be “beautiful”

She admits with embarrassment that she broke down upon seeing the red-headed girl’s face, because she sees why Chuck loves the girl instead of her (Linus kisses her cheek to reassure her; all around sweet strip)

Called Lucy “Lucille”

I have more to go, but those are some interesting things I’ve read in the comic strips so far.

[ratherembarrassing]

2025: week 5

with a bonus monday to make this london week because what the hell else happened this week besides that? uh, nothing.

perth to london, qf9. it's a coin toss on whether this was actually better overall than going via singapore or the middle east. between the flight to flight to perth, the layover, and the delay to departure, all up it took 29 hours from leaving my house to arriving at heathrow, and only 18 of those hours were the long flight. on the other hand, having 17+ hours to sit, eat a food, watch an entire tv season, and then sleep (albeit badly) for 10 hours? is really nice? at the very least it made me pumped for when they launch the melbourne to london and new york direct flights. 21 hours and it's done and dusted? yes. please.

big mood, season 1 (qantas' in flight entertainment thing / channel 4, 2024). it's tradition now to find the dark british comedy on the long haul flight entertainment system and holy heck, this is dark. nicola coughlan is an actual treasure.

theatah: the devil wears prada: the musical (dominion theatre, west end). what i was trying to get at in my exhausted delirium is that when a movie is bad and then turned into a musical, musicals make all that bad worse. anyway, it was fine, i'm glad i went, no one will remember this happened three years from now.

theatah: elektra (duke of york's theatre, west end). every review of this hated it for a different reason, but whatever, i really enjoyed it. a special shout out to the american sitting behind me who said out loud my exact thought: this staging is exactly like the jessica chastain a doll's house. which was true, but also entirely irrelevant for reasons that will become apparent. brie larson is polarizing in the best of circumstances, and these were not the best of circumstances, but the take seems to be that this production was ultimately impenetrable. i think reviewers need to harden the fuck up, if i was fine while almost unconscious from exhaustion. also: stockard channing!

theatah: much ado about nothing (theatre royal drury lane, west end). aaaaaaaaarguably the reason i detoured into london in the first place. it was cute! people love to hate jamie lloyd, and i don't think the crux of those complaints will be overcome with this one. my issue was mostly just that it felt like it was set in a season of love island, which is a comparison i am now equipped to make, and that's just not how i like my art to feel. this was an especially odd vibe because the staging deployed the apparently very on trend empty warehouse thing.a real mixed bag of approaches. as for the celebrities of it all, it was opening night and the people were there for tom hiddleston. it was irritating. it's always irritating. can we bully these people a bit more to get this screaming for the actors thing to stop? and i didn't die from being in the same room as hayley atwell, so that's nice.

jolene, redchurch street. i would be here every day if this was my local. every bakery should do a mean lemon meringue pie.

the dusty knuckle, dalston. i did not let the disgusting laneway put me off: the food was fucking incredible. grilled cheese with an onioniny jam was the best grilled cheese i've eaten in years, pip and nut turnover i will dream about. if you go, get their lemonade.

regency cafe, westminster. sometimes hipsters are right about things, and they are right about this. you should be a little afraid while you try to get some food. it's good for the blood or something. they sold me like a pint of orange juice for £2.70, which is a bar against which i will measure every restaurant forever now.

tate britain. i'd never been before, and that was a mistake! for years i have been thwarted in seeing turners whenever i am in a place that ordinarily has turners on display. why had i then never been to the tate britain? because i did not know! they have an entire wing of turners! as well as an entire wing of all the other things! @notabuddhist is a great art museum buddy, which is the best trait a person can possess. she even hurried through the last two rooms with me when i needed to leave to get a donut halfway across london.

something that did not happen: me getting my donut halfway across london. and it's all the fault of jeremy clarkson and his tory farmers, as the cab driver put it. fuck that guy, i wanted my donut.

barbican: including this feels like a lie, but i did wander through and feel awe and wonder. but i did not get very much time, because see next item.

something that did happen: so there i am going on a casual wander from shoreditch to bask in the brutalist glory that is the barbican. a song in my heart, a coffee in my hand, and a vague idea of where i'm going, but not much more than that. a great time for my phone to die. a perfect time for my power bank to be completely flat. first time since 2008 when iphones were first released in australia that i was abandoned in this way. thank you curry's, for taking me for an absolute ride while selling me a new power bank.

shout outs: the lizzy line (so nice, so clean, always got my back (because i am always going to and from an airport)), the afternoon lost to getting from stratford to dalston on a rail replacement bus through what i'm pretty sure was a crime scene, m&s salt and balsamic vinegar crisps (why are you the most delicious salt and vinegar chips i've ever eaten and why did i only buy one bag), love island and morley's.

[magicxc]

Movie Genres

Pairings: Survey Coprs - their fave movie genres

Word Count: 835

Warnings: netflix and chill? hulu subscription? binge watching disney?

A/N: I LOVE a good movie okay!! Put me in front of a juicy plot and I'm SAT. Here are the genres that I think the boys would enjoy most!! Tell me yours 🍿🎥🎬 

Headcannons Masterlist

Eren  - Action/Thriller 

Eren def strikes me as the type to enjoy loud movies that’s fast paced and chocked full of fighting scenes. Even though he has a special appreciation for the martial arts he can still get down with some good ole hand to hand combat. Anything that elicits excitement and anticipation does it for him.

Levi - Western Film

Walk with me here. I’ve seen Kenny reference and even dress cowboyish. I think he’d be all for the genre and considering his influence on Levi, it’s safe to say our short king would too. While the culture may be different from his own, it adds to his amusement all the more. Featuring cowboys, gunslingers, and bounty hunters it’d feel like a dramatisation of his old life underground; and while he no longer affiliates himself with that lifestyle, he does find the genre interesting. 

Erwin - Historical Drama

Fight me. Erwin strikes me as boring lowkey lmfao. I genuinely believe he’s only watching things that stimulate his mind or shows that he can take away from. He doesn’t mind the messiness too much as long as the movie in question is thought provoking or at the very least holds some truth to it. And honestly, the Commander might be onto something here cause historical drama pieces fucking slap. Movies/series like The Crown, Apollo 13, Hotel Rwanda, etc is what he’s tuning into if he wants to watch tv.

Throwing in National Geographic or shows like The Most Extreme for when he wants some background noise.

Connie - Animation/Musical

Connie is such a vibe and while he is comedic relief he’s also super sweet. It's said that he’s basically a runner up to Armin on the emotional scale in regard to how deeply he feels. Our boy started out super naive and trusting and although it shaped him into someone a little more serious; he’s still that sweetie pie at heart. And so I believe animation is his thing and can bring a deep sense of nostalgia from time to time; allowing him a chance to cater to the child within. And the plots genuinely be plotting. That early 2000’s Disney and Pixar was un-fuck-witable. Musicals are just as fun for Connie btw, anything with a happy ending he’s down for.

Jean - Drama

Jean is literally so messy he can't help it. The call is coming from inside the house with this one. Even though Jean is a realist, he can also be an asshole with little regard to how what he says may affect Eren people. That doesn’t mean our boi is heartless, noooo, there has been lots of maturation over the seasons. But he LOVES a good conflict chile. Movies/series like RHOA, anything Tyler Perry, Moonlight, etc is his go to.

Onyankopon - Crime/Mystery

Similarly to Erwin, Onyankopon prefers films that are stimulating. He doesn’t mind indulging in the occasional reality show, but that's usually if he just so happens to be walking past his girl and a good scene comes on. Other than that, Ony is all for the suspense. He loves trying to stay one step ahead of the character but finds it's equally as fun to pick up some cool trivia along the way as movies like these tend to touch on a wide range of topics.

Reiner - Comedy 

After almost losing his mind and his life, Reiner is cool on the movies that bring about intense emotions. He wants to laugh and not regularly either, but full on knee slapping laugh when he decides to indulge in a film. You know the kind where you have to beg your friend to stfu so you can catch your breath? The kind of laugh that feels like you just did a ab workout? That's what he wants. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t watch other genres, but they’re certainly not his first choice.

Armin - RomCom

It's self explanatory with this one. Our munchkin still views the world and its people with big doe eyes of hope, even against all odds. He is a little more realistic in his hopes but he’s still hopeful nonetheless. And he’s much the same when it comes to movies. He wants to see the film where the guy gets the girl, against all odds, and they kiss in the rain; and he’ll love it even better if you slide a joke or two in the mix. 

Floch - Slasher

I genuinely feel like if Floch had a Tumblr, he’d be like one of the slasher girlies with their ghost face fics, only he’s posting ghost face thirst traps hahaha. He gets a thrill from the gore, the screams, the plot, and the kills. I think Floch is just all for the scare, even if he's on the receiving end of it. Anything to get his adrenaline pumping while keeping him on the edge of his seat will do. Thankfully though he’s able to separate fiction from reality and we can only hope he doesn’t get any cute ideas.

[twilight-saga-headcanons]

is it possible to ask for some general headcanons for paul and emmett? They're my favorites :3 not relationship headcanons, just general stuff please!!!

Hello, darling! I hope you enjoy these <3

Paul Lahote:

Keeps a few bottles of water and a pack of energy bars in his bedside drawer, just in case. The man likes being prepared.

Had a bittersweet childhood. He loves his mom to D E A T H and he knows she's practically a saint for putting up with all of his shit from childhood and his high school years.

His dad is still alive and his parents are still together, but they've always been distant from each other. There's no particular reason; he thinks it's because their personalities have always clashed. It's basically as if he lives with a stranger in his home.

Falls in love a lot; falls out of love just as fast. Has gone on a lot of first dates, but not a lot of second dates, which is where his reputation of a heartbreaker emerged. He just loses interest pretty quickly.

Not much a book person; he likes music, but he can do without it most of the time. But movies? This man is a movie buff. Movies of all types - the classics, action, comedy, weird artsy foreign films, fantasy, romance? He loves them all.

Emmett Cullen:

Is very proud of his home town of Gatlinburg, Tennessee. He really loved growing up there, but doesn't go back often. The last time he went back to Tennessee was in 1986, when he dragged Rosalie about twenty minutes away to Pigeon Forge for the Dollywood Grand Opening.

LOVES video games but he gets so stressed out for no reason. Has broken 14 controllers and 6 TV's. Tends to favor Playstation and Xbox - the nintendo consoles and controllers are surprisingly easy to break.

Only has small glimpses of his life before Rosalie - the sound of his father chopping wood; loud, boisterous laughter as he joked with his brother; a sting on the back of his hand when his mother swatted him with a spoon for trying to sneak a slice of pie.

He's not upset about it, though! I mean, it's sad, sure, but he keeps himself moving forward. He loves his family and he adores this blonde goddess who saved his life.

One of his biggest dreams is to become TikTok famous. Still pissed because Carlisle says he cannot do anything stupid on social media "for the views."