#i hope it doesn't come to it and if it does. it works and we get a decent raise and they collapse to board bc GODDAMN YALL

[miange1]

YAY

okay so i wanna request something where donnie is talking about his crush on reader(male) to his therapist and it's sorta like the situation where he almost jerks off in her office yk?

but he starts to spill too much saying that he's basically a really gross and stalker pervert towards you😪

maybe add something a little cute at the end after all of that :3

DONNIE DARKO

male reader, perverted tendencies, donnie starts seeing reader in hallucinations, wet dreams, stalking, taking underwear and 'using' it, reader has a crush on donnie but doesn't know what he does, a full fic instead of head cannons for once, slight homophobia even though donnies friends were talking about a gay smurf

"Donnie.." his kisses trailed along your soft skin, grabbing hold of your waist harshly to keep you still and close to him. He loved moments like these with you, moments where he could have you all to himself and use you as you pleased because you would never say no to him, right?

You loved him, and he loved you. "Hm." He hummed, glancing up at you a bit as his kisses stopped at you hip, and his hands moving towards the bottom of your pants.

"Donnie no," He was confused, why were you saying no? You never say no, what was wrong now? "What, why? You're hard for me, why are you.." you shook your head and shushed him. "It's time for school."

Of course it was a fucking dream, he could even remember himself sighing and realizing in his head before he had woke up.

He was in no mood to deal with anyone today, more than usual. The boy was so close to punching his friends in the throat if they made fun of that girl one more time. He just wanted to get on the bus and be able to see you for the few seconds he could, and then for the hours he could stare at you through eyes you couldn't see.

"Guys, just leave her alone. Bus is about to come anyway." Even as he spoke he was only thinking of you, the cigarette burning to the curb right before the bus had pulled over to the curb, and he'd let the stick fall onto the concrete.

Neither of you had classes together, you'd just see each other in the hallways and it was a miracle you had looked over and waved to him. First thing that went through his mind was that you were the most beautiful boy he had ever seen.

First thing that went through his friends minds was that you were a faggot. "He's into you man." Donnie scoffed, head shaking in disbelief, "All he did was wave at me, I mean we barely even know each other." Which was only partially true, he knew almost everything about you. Knew of your interests, knew what you liked to watch and read, knew what kinda porn you liked, knew what brand your boxers were, and could probably guess which you were wearing right now.

Even last night he had watched you be confused as to why half of your pairs were missing. Sometimes he wished you could see it, see his eyes rolling back as his own hands were working at jerking himself off— taking in your scent and feeling so high off of it.

"Donnie!" He jumped up a bit, realizing he had been in class. Jesus, when had he gotten here? "I said do you have a pencil for me to borrow?" Blinking a bit, he nodded his head. "Yeah..yeah, here man."

"What's gotten into you, snap out of it." He wished he could, if he hadn't met you everything would go somewhat smoothly and he could continue along with his day.

"Hey Donnie!" Hearing your voice, he instantly turned his body around and started walking next to you. "Hey," he felt shy, itching to hold your hand but he just shoved it in his pocket. "I'm gonna be going to the movies later, you wanna come?" God, he wanted to say yes, say yes so so badly— but he couldn't. The hope in your eyes slightly went away as he said no, "Ah, I understand." No, no you didn't understand. He didn't want you to understand it that way, he needed you to understand how badly he needed you.

"Hey, hey, look." He blocked your way, standing in front of you as the gravel crumbled underneath his feet. "Look.. I have a therapist, and that's the reason I can't make it tonight." His heart skipped a beat as you smiled slightly, this time actually getting it. "Oh, then there's no worries! I just thought you didn't want to hang out with me." Never in a million years would that be possible, not now or ever.

"Of course I wanna hang out with you." He grabbed your face, almost till it hurt. "What makes you think I don't?" You laughed, your cheek squishing together more as you did so. "Well, maybe the fact you're trying to pop my head open."

His hands let go, heading to his sides while he tried to laugh it off.

Hypnotherapy. Donnie wasn't sure how to feel about it, each and every time he'd 'wake up' hard, and his dick almost out.

"So..Donnie." Dr. Thurman walk back and forth around the room, "Have you met anyone new?"

Donnie nodded, taking a bit before answering. "I met a boy.." he muttered, already feeling a slight twitch in his pants.

"That so? ..Is he like Frank?" Donnie shook his head, no. "No..no, he's nothing like Frank, he's.." He bit his lip, slightly giggling. "He's real." Dr. Thurman took that as a note to most likely stop. Because if Donnie liked this boy, then his pants would be unbuttoned again.

"Do you have any romantic interest in him?" Donnie looked over at her, eyes practically closed but not too much. "You gonna call me a fag if I say I do?" Dr. Thurman shook her head. "No, if you have interest in him we should discuss it." She almost felt the need to say 'For his safety' but she kept it shut.

"Would you mind explaining more?" Bad idea.

"Mh.. well.." His body shifted on the couch a bit. "His body..I love it..I wanna be all over it." Taking a breath, he continued on. "And fuck him..really really hard, feel him squirm and moan out my name." His hands went to his pants, unbuttoning somewhat slower.

"He's so sweet to me..wonder if his moans are sweeter..if his hole is as tight as my fist when I—" "Donnie. I need you to..explain something else." She didn't want to hear that.

"Explain what..how I look at him while he's asleep and awake? Sniff his clothes? Fantasize about using his body how I'd like? That what you wanna hear?" Dr. Thurman clapped her hands.

"that's enough for today Donnie."

"Morning Donnie." You gave him your usual wave, smiling over at him. He reciprocated, before reminding himself of something.

"Oh— hey, wait a minute." He stopped you, grabbing your arms. "Do you wanna..go out? Somewhere? Sometime?" He went silent as you seemed dumbfounded, his heart feeling heavy and he felt sort of angry.

Why were you looking at him like that? Confused? Did you not want him like he did? "Like, today? Sure why not." Then you smiled at him, and he felt himself get less tense.

"Great."

[niningtori]

the way we were before | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu for as long as you've known him. deep down, you've always thought that he loved you, too; so when he tells you that he's engaged to another woman, you decide to break it all off after a nasty fight in which he shows you just how little you mean to him. a life-ending accident seems to put your feelings to rest, for good. just when you think it's all over, however, you awaken to a time before everything fell apart; and you're determined not to repeat the same mistakes. it's just that beomgyu can't seem to let you go.

genre: ANGST (literally so much angst it's not even funny), romance, second chancelau, rebirthlau, she falls first but he falls harder, possessive!beomgyu

warnings: mcd (and rebirth), somewhat graphic depictions of death/a corpse, suicidal thoughts, you can interpret a scene at the end as somewhat suggestive but not really

word count: 12.7k

notes: this work contains a lot of angst... and that's coming from ME. this might be too sad to the point of being corny but luckily i was born on the cob. don't be mean to me tho i'm going thru it rn. feedback also means the world 2 me <3

some things are a matter of course. for example, when you were initially paired with beomgyu for a project in your senior year of college, it was a matter of course to fall in love with him. supporting him morally and emotionally while he struggled throughout the rest of the year and well into his adult career? well, that was a matter of course, too. being with him every day, spending every spare second you had with the intention to make him happy, and giving up any concept of self-preservation in exchange for even a morsel of his affection? the answer doesn’t even need to be said. through it all, you’ve suspected that all of the intimacy that you’ve nurtured will inevitably end up with you two being together, of course. 

you haven’t done any of it for the outcome. truly, you haven't. you make him happy simply because it makes you happy just to see him shine. he’s always been such a bright, sunny boy, and it’s always been enough just to be the one who helps maintain his true personality. it absolutely kills you to see him hurting, so it isn’t unusual to drop everything, be it work or social events, just to give him advice, give him comfort, or even just give him company. while he certainly doesn't show his affection towards you as profusely as you do to him, you know he cares about you. you can see it in the way he notices the little things about you, and in the way he listens to you with full attentiveness, even when you have nothing particularly interesting to tell him. when everyone talks over you, he tells you that he wants to hear what you have to say. and that’s enough.  

with all of this in mind, you jump at his invitation to hang out at his apartment. he’s been a little distracted lately, cancelling plans together for reasons unknown. it’s been odd, to be sure, but you know he’ll tell you whatever’s been bothering him soon enough. he always does. you greet him with takeout from his favorite restaurant in tow as a surprise, and he takes it with that smile you love so damn much. he looks a little nervous, but happy, mostly, and you don’t have to wait for very long before he clears his throat and announces that he has something important to tell you.

you try not to get your hopes up, but who can blame you for feeling a hint of anticipation? maybe he’ll finally confess his feelings to you. maybe that’s why he’s been a little weird. naturally, since your mind is racing so much with romantic hypotheticals, of course it comes as a shock to you that he simply says, “i’m getting married.”

beomgyu, notorious for never even having the time nor interest to date around, is not only dating, but engaged. your jaw drops when he tells you that it all happened so quickly, he doesn’t even know how it unfolded. all he knows is that once he met her, a whirlwind romance swept him up, and just a few months have been more than enough for him to know that she’s the one. in fact, as he so fondly declares, he knew it from the very first moment he saw her at the dinner between the company you two work for and her own. the one where you were his “date”. you knew that it wasn’t a real proclamation of love or affection for him to ask you to accompany him, but you can’t say that you weren’t beaming with pride and validation at you being his natural choice. when you arrived at the dinner, you remember some of your coworkers jokingly whispering to you to just make it official already. you spent the night mostly by his side, looking up at him in admiration and love. as it turns out, the time you spent fawning over him was equally spent with him falling in love at first sight with another woman. you weren’t even apart for very long, but apparently he met her when you two broke apart to mingle. 

it’s a kick in the chest, to put it bluntly. you feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs, and you’re struggling to breathe. the first time you caught a glimpse of him, you knew that any attempts to stop yourself from falling in love with him were hopeless. his smile, his charm, his playfulness immediately had you enraptured. you’ve always, always known that he didn't have a similar experience with you, but you just assumed that he simply isn’t the type to be caught up in such childish romanticism. you've always loved him outwardly and persistently, and you've shown him that in every single way you possibly know how. you dared to hope that maybe he was just the type to quietly reciprocate. obviously, with how emphatically he’s professing his love for another woman, you were very, very wrong.

“what's the matter? aren't you happy for me?” you struggle to answer, but he continues as if he doesn’t notice. “you know, i was thinking you could be, like, my best man. i've seen people do it these days—you'd pretty much be my best woman. i really want you to do it. there's no one else i can think of to—well, actually, there's soobin, but you’re my—”

“beomgyu,” you sharply interrupt, wetness pooling in your waterlines. beomgyu may be a little emotionally slow, but he’s not stupid. you know he knows that you've had feelings for him since forever ago. while it hurts, the fact of them being unrequited isn't what really gets you; it’s the fact that he doesn’t have the decency to just tell the truth. he took advantage of your love for him, always calling for you when he needed you, without ever really doing the same for you. “what… what about us?” 

“what about us? you’re my best friend, and i want you to be part of my wedding,” he says smoothly, but you level him with a watery stare. as if realization finally dawns on him, he replies in a way you sincerely did not anticipate.

“c’mon, you know i don’t see you like that,” he chuckles with a wave of his hand, and you really would’ve rathered him say literally anything else. you’d prefer it if he had just punched you in the stomach, actually, because that would feel considerably better than this… this humiliation. you’re silent for a moment before you feel the tears you’ve been struggling to keep in cascade down your face. to his credit, he has the decency to look uncomfortable, and his playful smile drops. before he can reply, however, you speak again.

“you knew how i felt about you this whole fucking time, you were just too much of a coward to be honest with me,“ you declare. “if… if you had just told me, i would’ve understood. i-i would've—you didn't have to do it this way.”

“listen, i’m sorry that you’re hurt, but i really didn’t mean—” 

“are you really sorry that i’m hurt, or are you sorry that i showed you i’m hurt?” you cut in. “beomgyu, you don’t care about how i feel, just as long as you don’t have to be the one to deal with it.” 

“i’m—you're being unfair. i didn't want to hurt your feelings, i just wanted us to stay friends. what's so bad about that? don't you want that?” he seems genuinely puzzled, as if he can't wrap his head around why you'd ever be indignant at the fact that he stayed friends with you mainly for his own comfort.

“jesus christ, beomgyu! a real friend would never do this. you kept me around so i’d keep helping you with work, with life, with what the fuck ever. why can't you just be honest, after all this time? just don’t lie,” you spit.

“i'm not lying! you've helped me a lot, and i'm grateful for that, but you can't expect me to just owe you my feelings,” he snaps.

“that's not what this is about, and you know it,” you tremblingly reply, dignity cut right to the bone.

“seriously? that's exactly what this is about. you're the altruistic angel who does nothing wrong, and i'm just a fucking scumbag who takes advantage of you, right? well, i'm sorry, but it's not my fault that you're acting so goddamn crazy over something so stupid.” your eyes burn with an intensity so great, it feels like they're being seared out of your skull. in this moment, you realize that he will never, ever respect you enough to consider you worthy of being leveled with. he doesn't think you're even worth the time. you're his silly, lovesick best friend who's absolutely delusional to the point of being laughable for suggesting that he actually take you seriously, for once. and that revelation breaks you like nothing else.

you won’t do this anymore. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, and you don’t. 

“i never want to see you again,” you sob, and while it may seem juvenile to say, you truly mean it. before you can hear beomgyu reply, you dash out of the building and to your car. 

everything is a blur when you peel out of the parking lot and onto the road. your eyes are pouring out thick, hot tears, and you try your best to swipe them away as soon as they come, but it’s difficult when they’re seemingly endless. you don’t even attempt to hold in your sobs—they’re far too deep and frequent for that. if someone were to glance at you through their window, they’d think you were absolutely insane. and maybe you are, you don’t know. maybe you’re insane for thinking that things could’ve ever been any different. maybe you were just imagining everything that seemed like confirmation that he loved you back. maybe it was all a delusion because you wanted it so fucking badly. and maybe that’s your fault.

but did he really have to crush you like this? he knew you were in in love with him. he knew you were waiting for him. he knew what he meant to you. why couldn’t he have just been honest instead of stringing you along? to ask for him to return your feelings would’ve been too much, you've always understood that to be the case; but even to the bitter end, he’ll call you crazy before he tells you the truth. 

you try to keep yourself focused, but everything’s a blur with your eyes bleary with a film of tears. you have half a mind to just pull over and have a meltdown on the side of the road, but before you can do that, you hear your phone ringing. you pick it up in a frenzy, silently hoping that it’s beomgyu with an apology, but the number is unknown. you don’t even have time to feel disappointed before you look up and see that you’re barrelling past a red light. in a panic, you realize that you’re about to crash headfirst into another car. you swerve your steering wheel as hard as you can, seemingly avoiding danger, but the sight of a tree coming closer and closer into your vision paralyzes you with fear. you try to brake, but you’re going too quickly for it to be of any use. 

the collision is bone-shattering in the literal sense. you’d think you’d feel adrenaline alone in such a situation, but you can feel pain bursting out of every cell of your body as you still after being thrown back and forth in your seat. every organ, every bone, feels like it’s just been crushed, and not for the first time today, you’re struggling to breathe. 

as you slip out of consciousness, one immovable thought resounds in your head: i wish i'd never met him.

-

the sound of your alarm ringing pulls you out of the darkness. your eyes shoot open and you sit straight up in pure shock. while you pant—just trying to catch your breath—you grab your chest, clutching at your shirt as you feel your heart drumming erratically. did you survive? you scramble out of your bed and look in the mirror. there’s nothing on your face. no fresh wounds, bruises, no scars from what just happened. that can’t be right. you know you were torn up from the collision, and there’s no earthly way you came out of it unscathed. was it a dream? it can’t be; you can still feel the phantom of pain on every inch of you, even when there’s no indication of any material harm. you remember every second you spent before and after wrapping yourself around that tree. does that mean you’re dead? are you in the afterlife? 

that doesn’t seem right, either. you don’t know much about what the afterlife is supposed to be like, if there’s even one at all, but this feels too real and familiar. you reach for your phone, with its alarm still blaring, and as you hit snooze, you notice the date. it’s just a few months before… before everything happened. did you go back in time? is that even possible? you try to reconcile yourself with that fact for a long, long time. so long, in fact, that you don't even realize you're supposed to be heading to work until it's five minutes after you're supposed to be there. 

as if on cue, your phone rings with your boss’ contact displayed on the screen.

“hello,” he says as casually as anyone ever can. this just solidifies the idea that your accident must never have happened, because if it had, he certainly wouldn’t be greeting you as if it’s just another day. 

“h-hey,” you attempt to reply, and your voice is so choked and thick with emotion, he can hear how badly you’re struggling to speak at all. 

“is everything alright?” he asks, concern laced in his tone. that’s enough to make you break, and before you can stop it, you’re outright sobbing into the phone. 

“i’m—i just—i don’t think i can come in today.” you fumble for an excuse, but it’s difficult to think straight as you feel your mind breaking down. “i, um, i—” 

“hey, it’s okay. you can take the day off, alright? don’t worry about anything, just focus on feeling better.” his words, so comforting in nature, do nothing but make you cry even harder. it feels nice to be cared for like this. if you had the coherence to think so, you’d wonder how baffled he must be at your behavior. luckily, you’re far too gone to care. you think you end up stammering out something similar to a thank you, but you’re not quite sure. either way, the call ends, and you collapse onto your bed. you curl yourself up and tuck your knees to your chest as you grip yourself as tightly as you can. this is real. you’ve gone back. thank god, you’ve gone back. 

you cry and cry until no more tears will come out, and while you try to keep yourself awake as the hours pass by, the relief you feel coalesces with the enticing nature of your soft bed, so you can't help but drift off. it’s different from the way you drifted off mere hours ago. it’s a lot warmer and kinder, and you're so, so fucking tired, you don’t even want to fight it anymore. 

a knock on your door wakes you from your sleep. it’s a good thing, too, because you were having a nightmare. rejection, devastation, primal fear, mind-numbing pain, then total darkness repeated incessantly in your head for hours on end. you swipe away your tears, but they continue to flow as you practically drag yourself to your door. you’re so disoriented, you don’t even think to check to see who it is before opening it. what a mistake that turns out to be.

“hey! whoa—are you okay?” he asks, and who else could it be besides beomgyu? your heart pounds in your chest, and even more tears stream down your face as you let out a sob. his mouth contorts into a frown. his face, previously so endearing to you, makes you feel absolutely repulsed. you lost everything for the figure standing before you, and he has the nerve to ask you if you’re okay. a fire is ignited in your stomach, and you feel yourself on the precipice of carnal rage. while you’re trying to suppress that feeling, he speaks again. 

“i heard you called in, so i thought i’d check on you. do you have a fever?” he questions, reaching out his hand to check your forehead for abnormal warmth. without even thinking about it, you smack his hand away.

“don’t touch me,” you all but growl, but beomgyu is undeterred. 

“what’s the matter? i don’t care if you get me sick; i could use the time off,” he teases with a grin, but your face remains twisted up in pure anger. 

“get out,” you mumble between clenched teeth.

“what?” he asks, and it's unclear if that's because he's confused, or because he simply didn't hear you. either way, you don't care.

“get out,” you repeat, louder this time, but not lacking any of the previous anger. your erratic behavior is enough to finally irritate beomgyu. 

“fine, whatever. forget i even bothered,” he scoffs as he stalks out of the door. you slam it behind him before falling to the floor. this is your chance. you came back too late to avoid ever meeting him again, but it’s still good enough for you. from now on, you two will live completely separate lives spent being nothing to each other. owing nothing to each other. again, you find yourself sobbing in relief. 

-

when you return to work the next day, the first thing you do is head to your boss’ office. he looks relieved to see you for a moment before he notices the envelope in your hand. with the way his smile drops, you know he immediately knows what it is. 

“what’s that?” he asks, though the tension in the air is more than enough confirmation that he has no doubts about what the letter reads.

“my resignation,” you tell him. 

“may i ask what this is about?” he probes. no, he can’t, because even if you told him, he’d never believe you.  

“i just don’t think this position is right for me,” you deadpan, and the look on his face shows that he doesn’t really buy it.

“you’ve worked so hard for so long, and you want to give up now?” he has a point. your company is on the brink of a major deal with another company, which will result in a financial breakthrough like none other, if successful. as fate would have it, said company is the one in which beomgyu’s future wife works, and the dinner where the two of them met is the celebratory party for such success. you’d laugh at the circumstances if you could. “whatever the issue is, we can work it out. just don’t leave before we do this. we need you, and even if you want to leave after we close the deal, you’ll still be rewarded for everything you’ve done. don’t you want to see that happen?” you do. you really, really do. you’ve given so much of yourself for this opportunity, and you really want to see it work out. you guess, in a way, you already have seen it; but if you leave now, that’ll never happen. this particular project needs you to get off of its feet.

but can you really stand to see beomgyu for a second longer? have his mere presence fuck with your head? is it even worth it? you’re about to declare that it most certainly is not, but you stop yourself. the money will be good for you to start a new life. maybe you’ll move buildings, maybe even to a new city, maybe across the country, who knows? you’ll be more than comfortable with this potential payout, and then you can start a new life somewhere where you know nobody, and nobody knows you. 

“i want a new partner, at least,” you counter, and his face morphs into a grimace. he’s undoubtedly confused at your sudden aversion towards beomgyu, but he doesn't mention it to you. 

“that’ll be difficult. i need you both for this to work.” you’re about to flatout deny him, but he continues. “if you can just make it through this, i promise that you can go wherever you want to go, and i’ll even give you a bonus for your trouble. deal?” you purse your lips as you mull it over. if you can suffer through being partners with beomgyu, your move will be considerably easier. still, you’re undecided before you have an epiphany: in just a few months, beomgyu will meet his future wife and fall head over heels in love with her. all you have to do is ignore him until then, and he’ll inevitably leave you alone once he meets her. so what if beomgyu’s here? you don’t want to care about him anymore. and once everything’s settled, you’ll pack your life away and start somewhere without the bad memories. 

“okay,” you reply, and his face breaks out into a grin. 

-

beomgyu is very visibly ruffled today, which you would immediately notice if you just spared him a glance, but you do no such thing. your lack of attention towards him serves to only rile him up even further. he wants to be stubborn—act out until you apologize to him, but once he realizes you have no intention of doing so, he finally relents and approaches you.

“hey,” he says coolly, still a little annoyed, but prepared to forgive you. you look up at him blankly, and he’s unsettled by just how empty your eyes look, so he nervously asks you, “are you… are you feeling better?” you look at him as if he just spouted the most asinine question of all time, and for the first time ever, he feels small under your gaze. he shifts awkwardly on his feet before you break the silence. 

“i’m fine,” you tell him. he waits for you to ask him how he is, but the words never come. in fact, you turn away and bury your nose in your work as if he’s not standing there, waiting dumbly for you to respond as you usually would. well, whatever. you’ll have to talk to him, eventually. especially since you two are working on such a big project. 

you don’t really talk to him, though, aside from what’s absolutely necessary. for most of the day, you silently slide papers over to him without even deigning to look at him while you do it. when you do have to speak to him, your words are cold and detached, as if even speaking to him is a chore. it’s like you’re looking past him, almost. like you don’t even really see him, and he’s never felt as unsettled by a gaze in his life. 

at lunch, you quietly remain at your desk instead of joining beomgyu like you usually would, and you can't quite bring yourself to eat. you just feel sick by this entire situation, and while you know you need food to survive, you’re sure you’ll vomit if you try to eat anything. 

beomgyu, on his part, leaves you alone, though he desperately wants to try to get you to eat with him. he won’t admit it, but he’s actually afraid that you’ll reject him again. he doesn't know why, but the thought of you doing so slashes at his heart. this is a mystery to him. he shouldn’t really care if you reject him or not, since he’s been quietly rejecting you for years, but he can’t help it. still, as he watches you space out at your desk, he tries to will himself to bear the brunt of a possible denial before a coworker he recognizes approaches you.

you don’t even notice mingi walking up to you, so you jump in surprise when he greets you. you’re pretty familiar with him, but you’re not particularly close, so you’re a bit surprised by his arrival. 

“can i sit with you?” he asks, grinning as he asks it. you nod in response, and he grins even wider before he pulls up a chair and seats himself in front of you.

“are you going to eat?” he questions, and you shake your head.

“not hungry,” you reply. he frowns.

“you still need to eat. you need energy, especially since you’re working so hard.” you’re actually a little sheepish because of his words. so he’s noticed how hard you’ve been working? it feels nice to be appreciated. is he worried about you? 

“i’ll eat later,” you lie. he seems a bit reluctant, but he eventually nods. 

“make sure you eat, okay? i’ll—i’ll text you and make sure you have. is that alright?” you’re stunned for a few seconds before agreeing, and he ends up sliding you his phone so you can put your number in it.

beomgyu watches it all from his desk, and he feels a sense of loss. is it because you’re directing your attention elsewhere? that has to be it, right? it can't be any deeper than that, but somewhere nearly unreachable inside of him, he feels an unfamiliar sensation scratching at his heart, begging him to  acknowledge it. but he shakes away the thought. you’re acting really weird, but that’s okay. you love him, and you’ll get back to normal really soon.

that’s what he tells himself, but you remain as cold as ever throughout the rest of the week. you don’t look at him with those adoring eyes, and you don’t even crack a smile at his attempted jokes. he feels like he's going insane, as if he's on the brink of understanding something really important, but he can't quite make it there. 

it all comes to a head when beomgyu shows up late back from grabbing lunch. he's done this a million times before, and he's always been greeted by your insistence that his tardiness isn't a big deal. in spite of the tension between you two, he still assumes that you'll be as forgiving as ever.

“hey, sorry i'm late. i got caught up with eating and didn't realize how late it was getting,” he says casually. he searches your face for any traces of leniency, for the indulgence you used to give him, but there is none. only anger, and maybe even something like regret, though he can't quite understand the latter.

“don't be late again. we don't have time for this,” you say coldly before sticking your nose back into your computer, effectively ignoring anything else beomgyu could say to placate you.

you two work late into the night. beomgyu gets so caught up in his work, too afraid to draw your ire again, but when he realizes he hasn't heard any noise coming from you in a while, he peers over to see you staring blankly at the wall. your face seems expressionless, but your eyes are what horrifies him. dead, empty, hopeless. “a-are you okay?”

the sound of his voice does nothing to break you out of your trance, however. in fact, it seems to have triggered something in you, decimated a dam that was already leaking. your eyes still look blank as tears begin to leak out of your eyes. they fall slowly at first, then incessantly. it's hard to reconcile the steady stream with the way your face remains completely devoid of emotion. 

tentatively, he places a hand on your shoulder. suddenly, you're jolted awake, eyes now looking as composed and indifferent as ever.

“are you okay? w-what's wrong?” he asks anxiously, 

you hurriedly wipe away your tears before you say, “nothing. just thinking about something.” you redirect your attention to your work, just trying to fully shake the way you were just locked into the memory of you dying alone.

“what could you possibly be thinking about to make you look like that?” he asks concernedly, his voice unintentionally rising in frustration. your eyes harden before you turn to him.

“none of your business,” you say firmly. before he can say anything, you're packing up your things. “i'm going to call it a night and go home.”

“wait! talk to me! what's been bothering you so much lately? you've been weird for a while now, so just tell me what's going on with you. i'm here. i'm listening,” he says as gently as he can.

“you're here? you're listening?” you sneer. “i'm so honored that you finally give a fuck about how i'm feeling,” you say sarcastically. he frowns at your words.

“what are you talking about? i'm always here for you,” he says, and he looks so genuine, it makes you even angrier. he sincerely thinks he's telling the truth. so fucking clueless and selfish.

“are you? do you think offering up your ear once in a blue moon makes you an altruistic angel or something?” you know he can't understand that you're throwing his own words back in his face, because he can't even remember saying them, but you don't care. it just feels too damn vindicating to stop yourself. “beomgyu, you're only as available to me as is convenient to you. you'd never put yourself out of your way to comfort me. meanwhile, i've always been ‘here’ and ‘listening’ at your will. i don't need your pity, and i certainly don't want it.” he's stunned into silence. you're absolutely correct, he realizes with a sinking feeling. before he can formulate the words to defend himself, you pack up your things and leave the office.

-

in the following weeks, you realize that mingi is… nice. really, really nice. you’re not used to prospective romantic partners actually seeming to like you, so the feeling is foreign, but not unwelcome. do you have feelings for him outside of appreciation? well, not really. in the back of your mind, you honestly doubt that you’re even capable of having feelings for other people anymore, but you try not to think about it too much. if you seriously search for an answer, you fear you won’t like what you find.

mingi is diligent, though, and you like that about him. now that you’ve made it clear that you’re not involved with beomgyu (and never want to be), he’s pulling out all the stops to charm you. lunches you would previously spend with beomgyu are now spent laughing with mingi. in the same way, downtime at work, which would normally entail catching up with beomgyu and maybe helping with a few of his assignments, are now reserved for chats with mingi. as beomgyu watches you two giggle with your heads together, he wonders what you two could possibly be talking about to ever be that funny. his jaw ticks in irritation at the scene. most notably, though, is the fact that instead of spending your off days with him, you flatout reject him with no explanation. not even with a perfunctory “sorry”. he doesn't have to wonder what you’ve been doing when he hears your coworkers gossiping about how you're always hanging out with mingi. 

beomgyu feels you slipping away, and it brings a sense of panic he’s never known before. but why? he shouldn't care about your romantic endeavors. granted, you haven’t had one during the entire time that you've known him, but it’s only natural that he supports you as your best friend. best friend. does that term even apply to him anymore? he wants to insist that it does, but as the weeks turn into months, your disgust for him becomes clearer and clearer. as he sits across from you and mingi at an after-work dinner with your department, he watches as mingi flirtatiously whispers into your ear. when some of your coworkers tease the two of you about it, he realizes with sickening certainty that he doesn't just want to be your best friend, he wants to be the one who sits next to you. he wants to be the one your coworkers joke about being your boyfriend, and he wants them to be right about it. the time you two have spent apart has shown him that he can't imagine anyone else occupying the space beside you. with an overwhelming sense of clarity, beomgyu realizes that this feeling, so deep and all-consuming, is love.

how could he not love you? regardless of everything you've done for him, you're still so perfect to him, for him. he finds himself appreciating things he previously took for granted. you're beautiful, caring, funny, and smart. he loves your smile, your laugh, your company. he loves the way you look when you're focused, the way you look so innocent when you sleep. you're the first person he wants to tell any time something happens, good or bad. you're the face he wants to wake up to in the morning. you're the only person he trusts to be his partner for the rest of his life. and now, it's clear that he can't just let you go without a fight.

as everyone begins to leave the restaurant one by one, he follows you out into the parking lot, determined to make his feelings known. even if you don't reciprocate them anymore, he's willing to put in the effort to make you love him again. and even if you don't… even if you can't… the desire to simply be next to you supersedes the need to be loved back. 

you don't realize that beomgyu is trailing after you until you get to your car. he calls out your name as you're about to pull the door handle. with a sigh, you turn around.

“what is it?” you ask flatly.

“are you serious about mingi?” he asks firmly, but he already knows that you are not. the way you look at mingi is laughable compared to the way you looked at beomgyu before your sudden change in behavior.

“yep,” you say.

“no, you're not. i can tell,” he argues with conviction.

“oh, and you know me so fucking well, huh?” you snark.

“i do,” he tells you, stepping closer. “i know you, and i know you don't really like him. not really.” damn. he caught you.

“just because i don’t like him now, doesn't mean i can’t like him later,” you insist.

“so what? you’re just going to string him along while hoping you’ll like him someday? are you just going to spend the rest of your life never really caring about anyone? you can't live like that.” his words leave no room for argument, but you’ll be damned before you don't at least try.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t lead him on, but what’s it matter to you? even if it doesn't work out with him, maybe i’ll meet somebody who i can tolerate, and who can tolerate me. i don’t think i need anything more than that.” beomgyu flinches at your bizarre words, but he's already reconciled with the idea that even if you don't want him anymore, he'll still take whatever you want to give him with a smile on his face.

“then what about me? i… i can be that person.” he's so nervous, you can tell that it took all of his courage to say that. but who cares? 

“you can’t,” you argue.

“why not?” 

“that would mean i’d have to be able to tolerate you, and i don’t want to do that.” not anymore.

“why are you acting like this? you’re acting like i’m so fucking horrible, but you used to lo—” he stops himself, but you both know he was going to bring up the love you had for him. “i just want to know what changed.”

“i did. i changed.”

“but why? i mean, i didn’t realize it before, and i know i wasn’t always the best, but i’ve always had feelings for y—” 

“don’t even bother finishing that sentence. you don't like me at all,” you sneer, “you just don’t like seeing me move on.” this makes him pause, and even you don’t have the heart to pretend like you can’t see the hurt in his eyes.

“why can’t you ever just believe me?” he asks quietly. “i’m telling you i love you, but you don’t even care. i’m saying that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but you’re acting like… like i'm disgusting to you.” he looks like he's about to cry, and it makes you all the more frustrated.

“you don’t understand,” you reply in between clenched teeth. 

“then help me understand. i just want to know why. i just want to know how to fix it. how can i bring you back?” 

“you can't. look, i’m—” and you’re about to apologize, but you just can’t make yourself do it. “you’ll get it really, really soon. you won’t even remember feeling this way, i can promise you that, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“what are you talking about?” he says exasperatedly. beomgyu may not have always been the best of friends towards you, but he can recognize when you’re holding yourself back. “what aren't you telling me?” you purse your lips in response. 

“nothing. there's no point in saying anything, because you wouldn't understand even if you tried. you wouldn't remember—fuck, never mind. just let it go, beomgyu. i have.” but he can't just let it go. this whole fucking thing as an enigma to him. but your words are… odd. what do you mean he wouldn't remember? there's nothing to remember, no matter how much he tries. before he can respond, you get into your car and drive away.

-

“c’mon, you know i don’t see you like that,” beomgyu tells you, forcing an awkward laugh. your expression immediately crumbles, and he begins to shift uncomfortably when he realizes that he must’ve said the wrong thing. your silence is deafening, ringing in his ears, but he still tries to maintain a smile. maybe you’ll lighten up. maybe you’ll go back to the way you were before. maybe you’ll even crack at smile at this ridiculous situation when you realize that he’s right in his assumption that you’re just being emotional. your feelings for him can only go so deep, right? you can go back to being friends after this, just the way he likes it. 

his smile is wiped clean off of his face when your eyes redden and well up in pure, unadulterated hurt. hurt he’s never seen before. he fumbles for the right words, but before he can find them, you break the suffocating silence. 

“you knew how i felt about you this whole fucking time, you were just too much of a coward to be honest with me. if… if you had just told me, i would’ve understood. i-i would've—you didn't have to do it this way.” any delusions beomgyu has that you’ll just let this go are promptly flushed away at your biting tone. jesus christ. you’re right, and he knows it. he flounders for a response, but nothing he can possibly say could really be enough. 

he spends the duration of the argument mainly trying to defend himself. honestly? he doesn't want to remember everything you two say, but he knows he's being nasty in an effort to keep himself from reconciling with the fact that he is, indeed, a coward. he knows he’s never been the greatest friend to you, though he’s always justified it by recalling the times where he did do thoughtful things for you. when you tell him that your resentment isn’t about the fact that he doesn't feel the same way, but because of the fact that he won’t own up to his actions, he feels a stab to his pride. before he can stop himself, he lashes out. 

“seriously? that's exactly what this is about. you're the altruistic angel who does nothing wrong, and i'm just a fucking scumbag who takes advantage of you, right? well, i'm sorry, but it's not my fault that you're acting so goddamn crazy over something so stupid.” he regrets the words as soon as as he says them. every syllable seems so vile as they leave his lips, but he can't stop himself. when he sees you crack at his words, he really wishes he had just kept his fucking mouth shut. 

“i never want to see you again,” you choke out between sobs, and he feels a piercing pain shoot through his body, all the way down to his bones. you don’t mean that. there’s no way you mean that. you care about him. you love him, and even if he doesn't feel quite the same way, he loves you, too. but one look at your resolute face is enough to tell him that you mean it. he wills himself to say something—anything—but you rush out of the door before he can quite muster up the courage to speak.

he stands in a stunned silence for longer than he could ever rightfully justify, but a call from an unfamiliar number eventually pulls him out of his daze. usually, he’d reject it and chalk it up to spam, but something tells him that he should—needs to—answer it. with shaky hands, he accepts the call. 

“h-hello?”

the response mostly sounds rather clinical in nature, really. there’s a perfunctory greeting before the monotone voice detachedly states that there’s been an accident, and he will need to come to the coroner’s office to accurately identify the corpse, which had been declared deceased at the scene. as it turns out, he was your first emergency contact. 

“we are deeply, deeply sorry.” the final words are the only ones that seem to hold any hint of an emotion in them, but beomgyu is too preoccupied to hear it. in a daze, he gets in his car and makes his way to the coroner’s office. hoping, praying, needing for this to be a bad dream. as he comes to find out, it is not. 

-

beomgyu’s head whips up in horror, and he’s panting like mad in between whimpers. tears incessantly pour out of his eyes, wetting his flushed cheeks. was it all a dream? there’s no way; it was too real to be a dream. he was there—he lived it. no, no, no…

“beomgyu?” a voice says, somewhat breaking him out of his panic. his bleary eyes snap up to the doorway to see you standing there, your eyebrows knit with concern and confusion. you two have been working late again, awkwardly alone together once more after his confession. you saw that he had fallen asleep, but he looked so tired, you couldn't bring yourself to wake him up. “are… are you okay?” he's absolutely frozen as you tentatively approach him, pausing a bit uncertainly before approaching him to get a closer look. he grabs you and tugs you towards him, wrapping his arms around you in an almost bruising grip. he nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent in between shudders. 

“beomgyu, are you sick? did you have a bad dream?” you ask. his heart would flutter at your concern, concern you haven’t shown him for so long, in any other context; but as it is, he’s far too distraught to appreciate it. 

“i… i remember,” he croaks, trying to get even closer to you, as if doing so is the only way to keep you safe. you’d like to break out of his embrace, but he’s so distraught while you’re so off-guard, you don’t do it just yet. 

“remember what? something about the project? we can—” 

“no. i’m—i remember… i remember losing you.” he can’t quite bring himself to be any clearer, but you seem to understand him, anyway. you stiffen in his arms before prying him off of you. he fumbles for you, just to touch you again, but you push him away. you exert very little force, but it’s firm and unrelenting. 

“oh,” you reply, looking a little lost, but mostly just cold. he's basically wailing now, but he tries his best to answer.

“i’m so, so fucking sorry. i didn’t—” 

“what, you didn’t mean to? you’re sorry? maybe so, but  does it matter?” you cut in, almost snarling. now that he remembers, all of the feelings, all of the resentment you’ve kept bottled up come tumbling out of your mouth. “what's the point in telling me this now, after everything? you’re not sorry, beomgyu. you only care because i’m—because i was gone. i don’t want to hear about your regrets; they’re worthless to me.” he recoils as if you just punched him. his eyes turn even redder than they were before, too, and he’s silent at your words. 

he wants to tell you that you’re wrong, because he really is sorry, but can he truthfully say that he’d realize his feelings if you didn’t… go? he can’t. for all he knows, he’d have rejected you forever. he's so ashamed, he'd rather die than feel this way. even so, he wants to attempt to explain himself; you deserve that much. before he can reply, however, you rise and stalk towards the doorway. it’s reminiscent of the way you left when everything happened, and he desperately tries to follow you, grabbing your arm before you can make it out the door. 

“don’t touch me. don’t you ever touch me,” you seethe, ripping yourself out of his grip as if the mere feeling of his hands on you burns through your skin, and he staggers backwards. he keeps his arm somewhat outstretched, though. just in case you change your mind.

“don’t leave like this. i-i don’t want you to get hurt.” not again.

“what’s it matter to you?” you sneer. “you didn’t care before, so i won’t waste my life on you ever again.” his eyes widen in terror, and tears fall even more profusely than they already were. you begin to leave, but to your regret—and to his anguish, the angriest part of you forces you to turn around and face him again.

“do you want to know what my last thought was?” you ask, face mostly blank besides the slight traces of disdain in your eyes, and he’s too terrified to move or even speak at all. he knows whatever you say will be something that breaks him, so he tries to shrink himself to be as small as possible; subconsciously praying that doing so will make him disappear in the face of your anger. still, your eyes remain locked on his face—narrowing in on him regardless of his efforts. “it was of you, actually. i was wishing i’d never met you.” he visibly flinches as he gasps sharply, feeling like you just knocked the air out of his lungs. he feels like he can’t breathe. it would have felt better if you had just ripped his heart out of his chest, because as it is, it’s aching so badly, he wishes you had. 

his lips tremble, and he looks like he’s just heard the worst news of his life. and he has. you hate him that much? you regret all of the time you had together to the point of wishing it had never happened? he’s never, ever regretted a moment he’s spent with you, but he guesses your company has always been better than his. how could it not be? you’ve always given him more than he could ever reasonably ask for, and even if you hadn’t, you’re still a much better person than he is. better to the extent of making him realize just how unworthy he is.

he lets you leave, but his anxiety makes him frantically pace about the room. he tugs at his hair, willing himself to calm down, but he just can’t. after a few minutes, he texts you and asks if you made it home. to his relief, it says that you’ve read the message, so he knows you must be okay. still, you don’t respond. 

-

the deal is tied up exceptionally smoothly; you’ve done it before, after all, so that comes as no surprise. on the night of the celebratory dinner, you take mingi as your date. you’ve already told him that you don’t see things panning out, but he actually takes it really well. maybe telling him that you’re planning on moving helped smooth things over. still, he insists that you accompany him to the dinner, just as friends. you oblige. 

it’s mostly the same as you remember. you spend the night mixing with your coworkers for the last time, and it’s bittersweet. they don’t know that this will be the last time you see them, as your two weeks before resignation have already passed in secret, and you’ll spend the next few weeks just packing and finding a new place to stay far, far away from here. it’s freeing, in a way. 

at some point, your manager announces that he’ll be making a toast, and the room quiets as everyone’s attention is placed on him. 

“firstly, i’d like to celebrate the success of this collaboration. everyone has worked hard to make everything come to fruition. secondly, i’d like to recognize two of the people who made this possible.” he specially thanks you and beomgyu, which is normal, but the unexpected happens when he voices his regret that you’ll be resigning. 

your coworkers look at you in shock, but one person in particular is especially stunned. beomgyu. your manager probably thanks employees of the other company, too, but he doesn’t hear it. other voices, other people, are drowned out by the buzzing in his ears. you’re leaving, and it's all because of him. 

he tries to drown his feelings in alcohol, stomach burning with every round, but the regret never seems to numb. the room seems to be spinning, and he looks visibly ill. eventually, a familiar figure takes a seat next to him. ah. his previous fiancée.

“hey,” she says, somewhat coyly. he doesn't respond. “wow, are you okay? you look a little green. how are you getting home?” again, he doesn't respond. she actually appears to be embarrassed, but she tries one more time. 

“i actually—i came over here because you're really… cute. if you don't have a way home, i can take you. i won't try anything on you, but i can't just let you go home alone. and maybe, you know, when you're sober, we can—”

“beat it,” he snaps. he knows it’s not her fault, and that she hasn’t done anything, but he still can’t help his resentment, even when it should all be directed towards himself. but his recognition of his unfairness isn’t enough for him to care. she blinks in surprise and embarrassment, rising from her seat in defeat. 

beomgyu continues to drink until he’s on the verge of passing out, putting his face in his hands. he draws attention from everyone, but he doesn’t have the mind to care. people try to approach him, but he flatly rejects everyone who attempts to offer their help in order to ensure that he gets home safely. 

“should you… should you take him home?” mingi asks. it’s obvious who he’s referring to.

“it’s not my problem,” you reply, a bit more curtly than you intended. 

“you’re right, it’s not. but you’re the only one he’ll listen to, and i think you know that.” mingi argues. you sigh. he’s right. as much as you want to blame beomgyu for everything, you’ve come to realize that after the conversation—more like confrontation—you two had, you’re not angry anymore. it was hard to see in the moment, but you’ve begun to question your merciless stance towards him. isn’t it partially your fault that things turned out the way they did? he didn't make you check your phone that day, so isn’t it unfair to completely blame him for everything? 

with this in mind, you approach him. he initially bats you away, assuming you’re just another one of his coworkers, but your voice pulls him out of his drunken stupor.

“c’mon. i’ll take you home.” his head whips up in surprise, and he almost thinks you’re joking, but your face is completely serious.

“o-okay,” he replies, sounding extremely docile. you don’t respond, but you begin to walk ahead of him as you head to the exit. he’s having a hard time even following you as he clumsily staggers through the crowd, following you like a lost puppy. hesitantly, he reaches out for your hand, though the fear of you telling him not to touch you remains. you turn back to see his fingers hesitantly outstretched to your hand, and with a look of resignation, you let him grab it as you lead him out.

the ride to his home is a silent one. beomgyu rests his head upon the cold window as he stares at the scenery outside. he doesn’t really take anything in, far too dazed to appreciate the view, but he looks, anyway. 

when you enter his apartment, begrudgingly letting him lean on you for support, you take him to his bedroom. he plops down onto his bed in an unnaturally clumsy manner. 

“th-thanks for taking me home,” he says meekly. 

“mm,” you reply, no inflection of emotion in your tone, getting ready to leave and head to your apartment. 

“w-wait! can you… can you stay here tonight?” you look at him doubtfully, but before you can resolutely deny him, he begins to retch. with widened eyes, you pull him up and drag him to his bathroom. he hunches over the toilet and lets everything go. he’s trembling after he’s finished, and you clean him up as best as you can. he melts into your touch as you gently wipe his face. you’re not soothing him with your words like you would’ve a few months ago, but your care, no matter how unwilling you seem to give it, is something he revels in. he brushes his teeth, but he keeps his eyes on your pensive reflection in the mirror. after he's finished, you speak.

“i’ll stay,” you tell him. 

“w-what?” he questions, eyes watery.

“i’ll stay for tonight. i’ll take the couch. i just don’t want to leave you when you’re feeling like this. it’s dangerous.” 

“n-no! you can stay in the guest room.” 

“i need to be able to hear you if something happens,” you argue. 

“th-then i’ll sleep on the couch. i don’t want you to—” 

“beomgyu, you need to properly rest. if you don’t sleep in your room, i’ll leave.” his face crumbles before he acquiesces with a strained nod.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a smile at his blind obedience, but he's too drunk to notice it. if he had, he would’ve clung to it like a man drowning. 

“thank you,” he solemnly whispers.  

“goodnight, beomgyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you rifle through his drawer for some clothes before heading to his living room and changing. you pull out spare blankets from his linen closet before sliding onto his couch.

you sleep rather peacefully, but beomgyu has no such luck. instead, he's pulled into a dream—one he comes to realize is a memory.

-

when beomgyu arrives at the coroner’s office, there is a moment, albeit brief, that he sickly hopes that it’s literally anyone else in the world, but when he sees you—body mangled nearly beyond recognition—he realizes that there is no such mercy. apparently, you didn't even die on impact, but by the time somebody reached you, you were already gone. he doesn't want to imagine how you must've felt, being alone in your last moments, but he feels like he should. against the warnings of the coroner and surrounding police officers, he demands for your face to be uncovered. he can surely identify you based on frame and clothing alone, but for reasons he doesn’t dare to dwell on, he feels like he just has to see. he just has to be sure. he just has to know what he did to you. 

and he does come to know it. to his eternal regret, he begins to know it at that moment, and consequently, every moment after. as it turns out, they suspect that you were looking at your phone before you swerved off of the road. he doesn’t know how, but he’s instinctively sure that it’s because you were waiting on his call. one  resounding thought thrums incessantly in his head: it’s all his fault, all his fault, all his fault.

your face is bloody, barely even showing any of the underlying skin, and marred from shattered glass. he swallows thickly as he reaches out to touch you, running his hands over the gashes on your face as softly as he can as to avoid hurting you, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s at all possible for him to tend to your wounds. he would go over single one, softly patching you up back to normal; but you're already cold to the touch, and though you definitely can’t feel anything, his mind imagines how much it must hurt to have him caress the gaping wounds on your face. he snatches back his hand, as if his touch is poison to you. 

“s-sorry, i’m really sorry!” he panickedly exclaims. “i-i won’t—i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he’s unsure if he means that in the current physical or the previous emotional sense, but does that really matter? he already has. besides, you can’t feel anything anymore. all of your muscles are relaxed, leaving you devoid of any expression as your eyes hollowly stare up at the ceiling. for a moment, he wishes the hurt he saw in them a mere hour ago was still there. anything would be better than the current blankness of your features. 

the blankness remains, however, even after all of the makeup and superficial repairs done to make you look like you’re only peacefully asleep. to him, you just look dead, no matter how badly he wishes the former were the case. as much as he wants to speak at your funeral, he does not. he doesn't deserve the dignity to speak, much less to properly mourn you. not after what he said to you. not when everything that's happened is all his fault.

the breakup with his girlfriend—or fiancée—is more bothersome than he can handle. in between her pleas and attempts to reason, all he can do is coolly recite the constant refrain: “i’m sorry, i just don’t want to be with you.” she tells him he’s just grieving, that he’ll get over it with time, and she wants to support him while he does it; but he montonously repeats his words as if they're the only ones he knows. in her anger and desperation, she tells him he’s making a mistake, and that he’s just feeling guilty because of your unrequited love, which ultimately proves itself to be the categorically worst thing to say. he finally explodes, telling her that she was the mistake, that he doesn't know what he ever saw in her that even closely compares to you, and he'd take every moment with her back if he could. she's the biggest regret of his life, which previously felt like it had only just begun, but now feels like it stretches far beyond what he can tolerate. 

in the days, weeks, months that follow, he struggles to understand how something so unjust could occur. it doesn't make sense. really, it just doesn't make sense. eventually, even his initially patient friends grow weary of his neurotic harping upon how unfair it is, how sudden and wrong it all is. he should be punished. you shouldn’t have had to be the one to suffer, but you were. what kind of justice is that? what kind of universe allows something so cruel to happen right under its nose?

when everyone finally tells him that it’s time to move on and let go, he resorts to speaking to the only person who can’t argue back. you. he visits you every day, bringing you gifts on christmas and your birthday, and even just when he sees something he think you'd like. in a way, they’re almost like sacrifices to you to atone for what he did. his contrition. he spends many of his visits by raving like a man gone mad at a stone slab. he likes to think that you’re agreeing with him, that you see the unfairness for what it is. he’s realized that he loves you, has always loved you, but he was too self-absorbed to notice. as hypocritical as it is, he’s only noticed after you… left, and he’s more disgusted by himself than he ever thought possible. still, he thinks you deserve to know. you deserve for him to be brave and tell the truth, but who cares? what’s the use of only recognizing it after everything he’s done? 

he apologizes to you while crying about how much he misses you. he tries to tell you about other things, too. about the things he thinks you would’ve liked to hear. about current events he decides you’d find funny or interesting, about life updates on your friends that you’d want to know, about how a new album has been released by an artist you really liked, and that he can't quite bring himself to listen to it yet. he’ll definitely listen, though, someday. he’ll give you his opinions after describing each track in great detail, once he’s able to bear it, that is. you always look(ed) forward to their releases, so it’s the least he can do to repay his debt to you. 

but if you owe someone a debt as deep as their life, how can you repay that debt when they’re no longer here to collect it? if he really thinks about it, there are a lot of things he owes you. he owes you the years you spent caring about him when he couldn’t be bothered to reciprocate a fraction of the same courtesy. he owes you every thoughtful action, every encouraging word you wasted on him. he owes you the time you dedicated to make sure he always felt seen, felt understood, felt loved. yes, he owes you a lot of things—too many to properly account for, actually. and now, he even owes you your life. his debt is so heavy, he crumbles under it every day, squirming pathetically beneath the crushing weight of it all like an insect. the worst part is: he owes you more than you ever asked him for. all you wanted in return was honesty, but it appears that even that was too much to ask from him.

he wishes you were here to punish him, to scorn him for being such a fucking bastard. yell at him, hit him, kill him. anything would be fine—he’d tolerate it all—just as long as you were still here. he’d be perfectly content with your hatred, he’d revel in it, even; but he supposes that he doesn’t even deserve that much. as it is, your silence is the most punishment he can receive, but that doesn't feel like it's even close to enough. he finds himself praying for mercy, for some bizarre, cosmic event to put him out of his misery once and for all. he indulges in the idea that if he plays his cards right, if he begs and pleads enough, he’ll find you again. such a notion is initially enough to placate him, but it is to his horror when he realizes that he’s more afraid of that than anything else. what if he finds you, and you tell him, “i never want to see you again,” just like before? such a terrifying outcome is enough to keep him from snuffing out his own light with his own two hands for good. he’d rather live as if he were dead than hear those words again.

so he does. he lives like that for years, decades, until death mercifully takes him. he lives quietly and utterly alone. no wife, no children, and hardly any friends. if your life was robbed from you by his actions, then it’s only right that he lives as if his own were robbed from him, too. it’s the least he can do to atone for what he’s done. what keeps him up at night, though, is the possibility that it’s just not enough. if you do meet him again, what will you say? will you still tell him that you don't want to see him? that the lifetime he spent regretting everything he's ever done pales in comparison to the price you paid for caring about him? as the darkness overcomes him, however, he realizes that you deigning to say anything at all to him is better than your unbearable silence. his final thought before he's swallowed whole is: please, just let me see you one more time.

-

beomgyu awakens in a cold sweat, panting heavily as he struggles to understand where he is. is he still alive? that can’t be right—he clearly felt himself slipping away. but what if he can’t die? what if that’s his punishment? the thought alone is enough to elicit a guttural, “no, no, no!” out of him as he realizes that his nightmare is not yet over, and may very well never be. tears pour down his face as he wails like a child.

“beomgyu?” you say as you walk through the doorway, looking somewhat sleepy and disheveled in clothes he subconsciously registers as his own. when he looks at you, he's relieved, but the regret he feels is what overwhelms him.

“oh, god. i'm—it's all my fault.”

“what?” you ask, still a bit disoriented from just waking up, seeing as how it's still the middle of the night.

“it's all my fault. it's all my fucking fault. i did that to you.” suddenly, you realize what he’s saying, and your heart clenches at his words.

“beomgyu, no. i was distracted. i didn’t see—”

“you were distracted because of me. you thought i was calling you, i just know it. you were there because of me. because i’m a fucking coward who couldn't just tell you the truth.” you don’t know what to say. did he really blame himself for everything? even after all of this time? before you can answer, he speaks again.

“i saw—you just looked so small. i've never—i didn't even think anyone could bleed that much. you were so cold, a-and your face was—” 

“hey, hey, hey, stop it,” you say firmly, but gently, “you're not—” 

“they said you died at the scene, all… all alone. and i know i was the one who did that. if i had just listened to you, if i had just been honest with you, you would've been alright. but i called you crazy. i said you were being stupid. w-why did i say that? what did i do it for?” 

“look at me,” you say firmly, which makes his unfocused eyes zero in on you. “listen, listen to me. it's not your fault, okay? i used to feel like it was, but now i understand that you were scared. i know you couldn't control how you felt about her, and you were right about you not owing me your feelings. you could've been honest, but that doesn't mean you killed me.” 

“no, i did it. i did it. i did that to you. if i had just—”

“gyu,” you sigh, and his heart can’t help but stutter at the nickname you haven’t called him in months. “i’m telling you it’s not your fault. i used to blame it all on you, and i was wrong for doing that. but you get it now, right? you're supposed to be with her. you love her.”

“no, no, no! i don't. i really don't,” he desperately exclaims, trying to convince you in the only way he knows how.

“maybe not yet,” you concede, “but you will. once you get to know her, you'll want to spend the rest of your life with her. that's how it's supposed to be, just like before.”

“there is no before,” he cuts in pleadingly. “i lived and died alone, just like i deserved. i just—i love you so much, i couldn't stand to let you go.” you frown at his words—they make you actually feel guilty. even so, you guess that it's time to let the purgatory you find yourselves in go. besides, maybe he needs an apology to finally put it all to rest. 

“i'm sorry that—” his heart drops to his stomach. please don’t say it. he’s begging you not to say it. not to someone as unworthy and filthy as him.

“don't. please, please, don't apologize to m—”

“—i made you feel that way. even when i hated you, i never wanted you to live like that; but you can't mistake guilt for… something else. maybe this is another chance to get it right. you can be with her guilt-free, and i can live without regrets.”

“no, i-i didn’t break up with her because of guilt! i did it because i realized that if it’s not you, i don’t want it to be anyone else. it can’t be anyone else.” 

“you don’t know that,” you sigh. “you think you feel that way, but you’re just sad that things ended how they did.” 

“you’re wrong!” he exclaims. “i didn’t realize it—i was too stupid to realize it. and i know it’s disgusting of me, but i only… i only understood it after i lost you. i-i’m sorry i didn’t realize it before, but please don’t tell me how i feel. i spent every day wishing i would just fucking die so i could see you again. i just couldn’t stand living without you. that’s not normal—that’s not how friends feel, no matter how guilty they are. i just wanted to die.” you purse your lips at his words as you feel dread pooling in your stomach. at least when you died, you didn’t suffer for long, but he suffered for the rest of his life. in the same way, you didn’t want him to hurt himself, no matter how angry you were. 

beomgyu has begun to hyperventilate, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you—too afraid that you’ll disappear if he does. he’s probably having a panic attack as tears stream down his face, and he ruthlessly tugs at his hair in pure distress. all he can do is repeat that it's all his fault and how sorry he is, and any lingering resentment you may feel dissipates like smoke at his absolutely shattered state. it seems like he really can't live without you, so are you sure you can abandon him like this? you don't think so. although it may not be right, you still think that it's worth a shot. you don't think he has the capacity to hurt you ever again, and you realize that even after everything, you don't think you can love somebody the way that you love him. so, you're willing to let him try again.

“hey, hey. stop it,” you coax, seating yourself on his bed. but he can’t stop it, he physically can’t. he’s whimpering now, like a wild beast with a mortal wound. you don’t hesitate to take him into your arms, holding him tightly as you shush him. “shh, it’s okay, i’m here. don’t cry. i’m here, and i won’t leave again. i promise. just breathe, in… then out. that’s it, just like that. good job.” 

eventually, his breath begins to even out, though his body is still racked with shudders. you’re here. you’re okay. you promised that you won’t leave him, and you always keep your word when it comes to him. he finally feels like he can breathe, and even though he’s in so much pain, he still wishes this moment will never end. he wishes he could stay in your arms forever, never letting you leave his side. always staying where he can reach you.

“better?” you ask, pulling away to get a good look at him, but he shakily grips your sleeve in sheer desperation. he just has to be touching you, somehow. he forces himself to nod.

“good,” you say, eyes soft and lips slightly upturned in relief. he almost loses it again at the sight of your smile, no matter how small. he never thought he’d see it directed towards him again in this life or the next. “do you want to start over?” 

“s-start over?” he asks. he doesn't dare to let himself hope that you mean what he thinks you mean. 

“start over,” you nod. “we can try again, okay?” 

“oh, p-please,” he begs. he’s so pathetic. he doesn’t deserve your mercy, but he supposes he’s too selfish to reject it. you look at him for a long, long time with soft eyes. you’re not angry anymore—he’s suffered more than enough, and you finally believe that he loves you just as much as you love him, and maybe even a little more than that.

“you promise you won't hurt me again?”

“i promise. i swear to god—” 

without a second thought, you gently cup his face in your hands, which makes his words catch in his throat. his eyes widen as you lean in while pulling him towards you. when your lips meet, he’s electrified to his bones. he melts into the kiss, whimpering slightly at the feeling of your lips against his. when you break apart, you rest his forehead on his own, closing your eyes as he stares at you before he does the same. he clutches the hand you have on his face and grazes his thumb over it as he lets out a contented sigh. nobody has ever made him feel this way before, and if he could go back to the first day he met you, he’d tie you to him immediately. 

“thank you, thank you so much,” he whispers. with a smile, you press your lips against his again. he falls into the feeling just as easily as the first time, and you push him down before continuing to go even deeper. before completely giving in. 

you spend the night loving and being loved in a way that you never thought you could. you feel cherished to a degree you previously considered impossible. beomgyu reveres you as if you’re his god, and he shows you as much with how loving and gentle he is. when you’re finished, panting heavily against each other, he holds his hand against your cheek as he stares at you in awe.

“i missed you so much. i love you so much. i promise that nobody will ever love you as much as i do. i promise that nobody will ever treat you as well as i will. just don’t leave me, okay?” and when the time comes, even if you do leave first, he’ll be sure to follow you. he won't let you be alone ever again. but he definitely can’t tell you that, or else you’d yell at him for not caring about his life enough.

“okay,” you tell him with a sleepy smile, and he beams before kissing your forehead and letting you drift off. he stares at your peaceful face, resolving to always give you what you want, no matter what it costs him. even if it kills him, he'll gladly do whatever it takes to ensure that you're happier with him than you could ever be with anyone else. he'll prove to you how much he loves you, and he'll pay back the debt he owes you a million times over. you'll see. he’ll marry you, start a new life with you, and chain himself to you forever; which may sound selfish, but he’ll make up for his willfulness by being everything you could ever want and need. and finally, before he joins you to sleep, he thanks the universe for having mercy on him—for letting him see you again.

notes pt. 2: ... so? LMAOOOOO i hope this was worth the wait bc this work was so hard for me to get through it was making me so sad to write it. anyway, love yew. please don't be mean to me tho like if u don't like it just close your eyes n scroll 🙏

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[sissylittlefeather]

If You Talk In Your Sleep

Chapter 1

A/N: I wouldn't be me if I only wrote one series at a time. So here is Elvis x reader in Vegas in 1969. It's going to get dramatic, so hang on tight, friends. Hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: 18+ minors absolutely DNI, smut, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also a tad bit of angst and mentions of domestic violence (not Elvis)

Word count: ~3.8k

The only thing that glitters more than Las Vegas in 1969 is you. Your dress, your shoes, the insane amount of jewelry you're wearing, even your purse shimmers under the lights. It's almost like you're trying to catch someone's attention. And truthfully, you are. Your husband is a cruel man and although he keeps you dripping in diamonds, you'd be lying if you said you weren't lonely. He's what they call a “Casino Boss”. You're not exactly sure what that means, but you know it's hard and violent. It must be pretty stressful too because he yells at you constantly. He's never hit you, but he has pushed you and grabbed your face and you do everything in your power to keep him happy. Despite his anger issues, he swears that he loves you more than life itself, so he always comes back to you with presents after he's particularly harsh. Still, you're tired of it. Tired of walking on eggshells. And as much as he says he loves you, it's more like he loves the idea of you. He never listens to you or treats you like anything beyond a pretty little trophy that he can smother in jewelry and ignore. It's not an ideal existence, but what can you do?

Most nights you dress to the nines and sit somewhere in a casino waiting for someone to see you. In the beginning, your husband made you come to work with him, but as time has passed, he wants you near him less and less. You're not sure if he's messing around or if he's just secure in the fact that you aren't going anywhere, but you spend most of your time alone. Men approach you all the time, but they've never been interesting enough to tempt you into anything dangerous.

Tonight, you sit here in a gold dress, your hair in big waves as it cascades down your shoulders. You swirl a straw in your drink and take a sip, bored. It feels like you might suffocate if you sit here for another second, so you stand up and walk away, headed for a back door to get some air. As you walk, the reality of your life overwhelms you, you feel the tears start to gather, and by the time you make it outside, they're running down your face. You wrap your arms around yourself and sob. It's cold in the desert at night and the emptiness is overwhelming.

Elvis sits at the blackjack table surrounded by pretty girls and all of his best friends. But even with all the company, he stares at his cards and soaks in the loneliness. His career has finally started to take off again and on stage he feels like he's found himself. But when he's not on stage, he feels trapped. Trapped by a marriage he didn't really want, forced into curated friendships with people that seem to like their paychecks more than they like him. He somehow feels completely unseen, despite the constant attention.

“Sir…?” The dealer asks him hesitantly. He shakes his head and slides his cards forward. Then he stands up and half of the men at the table stand up too.

“Where we goin’, boss?” Several of the girls stroke him and whine that he's leaving so soon. Their hands feel cold and all he sees is dollar signs in their eyes.

“Bathroom. Don't follow me.” He turns from the table and walks away. Several of the men try to and he dismisses them. He heads down a hallway, but doesn't turn into the restroom. Instead, he heads for a door to the outside. He doesn't even care if he'll be able to get back in as he pushes it open aggressively and steps out into the darkness.

You try to wipe your eyes and fade into the shadows, praying he won't see you. But of course he does.

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Is this spot taken?” He smirks playfully and then notices your face. His eyebrows come together in concern and he takes a step closer. “You okay?”

“Oh, I'm just peachy.” You shiver and wish you had a cigarette. He pulls a cigar out of his pocket and lights it, watching you closely.

“You don't look peachy. I mean, you look beautiful, but not happy.” He takes a drag from the cigar and you look into his face. You know who he is, but you're not in the mood to acknowledge his celebrity status. You need a human.

“Well, thank you. But no, I'm not happy.” As you say it, more tears slip down your cheeks. His heart breaks a little for you and he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief with “EP” embroidered on it in dark blue.

“Here, doll.” You take it and dab at your eyes and he notices how you shiver. He has a thought to take his jacket off, but he can't. “I'd give you my coat, honey, but I've got nothing on under it. Here. C’mere.”

He holds the cigar in his teeth and reaches for you, running his hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm you up.

“That better?” You smile a little, but you're still freezing.

“Thanks.”

“I'm Elvis.” He smiles and holds his cigar in his fingers as he continues rubbing on your arms.

“You don't say.” You giggle and he chuckles. Then, emboldened by your drinks and the privacy of your location, you gesture to his cigar with your head. “Can I get some of that?”

His eyes widen in surprise, but he nods.

“Sure, honey.” He hands it to you and watches as you take a few drags and exhale slowly. After you do, you shiver again and he clicks his tongue. “You're still freezing.”

He flicks the cigar, there wasn't much left anyway, and unbuttons his jacket. When he holds it open for you, exposing his naked upper half underneath, you blink several times.

“Get in here. I'm warm, I promise.” You look at him in awe and wonder if he's noticed the ring on your hand. It's 7 carats, so it's hard to ignore. “I won't bite ya, honey.”

You look around and realize that no one would ever know. Then, you decide you don't care if they do and step towards him, sliding your arms around his waist. He wraps the jacket and himself around you.

“Ain't that better?” You nod against his chest. He really is warm and it feels so nice to have him around you like this. Add to that the way he smells and you're practically swooning. “You wanna tell me what's got you so upset?”

You take a deep breath and try to decide what you should say.

“I really don't.” He nods and looks down at you.

“I understand that, honey. Better than you know.��� For a minute it looks like he's going to kiss you, but he doesn't. Instead, he sighs deeply. “I should go back inside.”

You nod and start to pull away from him, but he squeezes you tighter.

“Just a second. This is nice.” He doesn't say how badly he needs the affection, but you can sense that he needs something from you, so you snuggle into him again. “What's your name, doll?”

You tell him and he whispers it back to you. To your utter shock, he kisses your forehead before he backs away.

“Okay. It's probably time.”

You nod and pull away as he turns back to the door. But there's no handle and he stares at it in disbelief.

“How were you plannin' on getting back in?” He asks, still looking at the door. You miss his arms around you, but you shrug.

“No idea. Hadn't thought that far.” He chuckles and then takes your hand.

“We better head around to the front of the casino.” He guides you back to the entrance of the building and then stands there with you in front of the doors. After a few beats, you pull out his handkerchief and try to hand it back to him.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“You keep it, honey.” You stand there for another couple of seconds.

“Well, I guess I should go back inside–” As you say it, his crowd of followers busts through the door and there's a flurry of activity as they fuss over him and scold him for leaving them. You think to yourself that he seems like a child being admonished for running away. When your eyes meet his, they're full of bitterness and he shrugs.

“I'm fine, y'all. Let's just go.” He calls for his car and you turn to make your way into the hotel. “Wait, honey.”

He jogs over to you at the doors and takes your hands in his.

“Come with me.”

“Elvis, I can't.”

“Why not?” You hold up your left hand for him to see your ring.

“Yeah, I saw that. Something tells me you need to take it off for the night.” He looks at you, his blue eyes piercing your soul. For a second, you wonder how he knew, and then you don't care anymore, not one bit.

“That would be nice.”

“I thought so. Come on.” He slips the ring off your finger and into his pocket and then takes your elbow, leading you towards his car. A bunch of the other guys pile in with you, but they don't say anything about the fact that you've joined them. You ride along in silence with his arm around your shoulders, his hand intertwined with yours. It doesn't take long at all to get back to the International hotel. At the elevator, the guys try to come with you expecting a party like they've had almost every night, but he shakes his head. That's all it takes for them to stay behind. Once the doors close, he turns and leans against the wall of the elevator. You know he's married too, but you hate to bring it up. Instead, you smile awkwardly.

“C’mere, honey.” He holds his arms out to you like he did behind the casino and you go to him, wrapping your arms around his waist again. You stand like that, snuggled together, until the doors slide open and he guides you into his suite with his hand on the small of your back.

“You wanna drink?” He asks, walking to a bar at the side of the room. You've never cheated on Carl before. A drink would probably help.

“Sure.”

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you have.” You hear him put ice in a glass and then pour some things in it. He brings it to you and you immediately recognize it as a screwdriver. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome, honey.” He watches as you take a small sip. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No.” You shake your head. “The situation does. But you don't really.”

He smiles warmly and then settles himself next to you on the couch.

“Please talk to me. No one ever talks to me.” He looks over at you with a look somewhere between bitter and sad.

“You have so many people–”

“They talk at me and about me. No one ever talks to me. Not really. Not about anything real.” You take another big gulp of your drink and then turn to face him, kicking your shoes off and tucking your feet up under you.

“I don't wanna be married anymore. My husband is not… nice. And I miss being a person.” He looks into your eyes with more understanding than you expected.

“My wife is cold. She wasn't before we got married, but after? She's just… cold.” You lean forward and push your fingers into his hair.

“You seem like the kind of man that needs warmth.” He nods.

“I really am. So I guess what I'm sayin’ is I understand not wantin’ to be married.” He sits in silence for a bit, reveling in the feeling of your hand in his hair. Then, he looks at you again. “Does he hurt you?”

You pull your hand back and move away, but he gently grabs you and pulls you almost into his lap.

“Sometimes. Not bad. No bruises or anything.”

“Honey, he doesn't have to leave marks on you to hurt you.” He grits his teeth a little, obviously angry that anyone could ever hurt you. “What's he do?”

“He's the Casino Boss at the Flamingo.”

“Oh.” Elvis understands that means he's dangerous. But he doesn't let go of you or anything. Instead, he buries his head in your neck and leaves soft kisses there. He continues pressing his lips to your skin, moving down your chest.

“Elvis…”

“Yes, doll?” He asks between kisses on your breasts.

“This could only ever happen once.”

“I'm not known for my faithfulness to women.” He murmurs and you take that as him understanding what can and cannot happen. You pull away from him and stand up, his eyes wide as he watches you. Then, you push the straps of your dress off of your shoulders and let it fall into a shiny pool at your feet. This leaves you in just your panties, so you turn and walk towards what you assume is the bedroom. It doesn't take him long at all to stand up and follow you. At the doorway, you turn and wrap yourself around him. He leans down and kisses you deeply.

“Tonight is a vacation.” You whisper.

“Viva Las Vegas…” He whispers in return before grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifting you into his arms. You whimper as he carries you to the bed and lays you down on the satin sheets. His jacket and pants are off before you even know what's happening and then he's on top of you, pressing his lips to every inch of you that he can reach.

His mouth finds your nipple and he teases it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth. He moves to the other one and gives it the same attention. You haven't been this turned on in years and your body responds as such, making a damp spot on your panties. He continues to kiss down your body and then rolls your underwear down your legs and off, leaving you completely exposed to him.

“Need to taste you, doll.” He moans softly, dropping hot kisses on your hips and thighs. You spread your legs for him and he groans at the sight of your glistening pussy. He settles his body into the space between your open thighs and teases your slit with his fingertip. “So wet for me, honey. Such a pretty pussy.”

Two fingers slide inside you and you gasp at the sensation. When he lowers his mouth to your clit and begins to lick you, you damn-near pass out. Carl hasn't gone down on you since before you were married. And even when he did, he wasn't this caring or skilled.

“Oh God, Elvis…” You moan, your hand grasping the front of his hair.

“That's it, baby. Let me give you what you need.” He growls against your sensitive flesh and you tremble with desire. You feel the edges of your orgasm as it starts to approach.

“I'm gonna cum…” You whimper and roll your hips against his face as he eats you. He groans and nods, looking up at you with his face buried in your pussy. His tongue moves so fast that you'd swear it was detached from his body. But it's not and the delicious sensation of him working you with his tongue has you so close you can almost taste it. “Fuck! Elvis!”

You scream as your climax washes over you, filling your body with electricity as you pulse around his fingers, curled just right to hit your g-spot. He licks you until he feels you relax and then pulls back, his lips and chin shiny with your arousal.

“You taste like heaven, doll.” He whispers as he presses his lips to your body again, rolling his hips against your thigh. His cock is rock hard where it presses into you and you moan softly when you feel it.

“I wanna make you feel good, baby.” You murmur to him as he makes it back to your mouth. He kisses you deeply as your hand trails down his chest and you take his member in your hand.

“Mmm, honey, just like that.” He moans softly as you pump him, sliding his foreskin back and forth.

“Please fuck me, Elvis. Please.” You moan and nibble on his earlobe. He groans and nods.

“That what you want, doll? You want this cock?”

“Yes, please.” He hovers over you, lining himself up with your entrance. You whimper as he slides his tip through your folds. Then, he slowly starts to push into you.

“Fuck, honey, you're so tight. Breathe for me.” You take a deep breath in an attempt to relax, but all you can think about is the fact that Carl will kill Elvis if he ever finds out about this. “You okay?”

He lifts his head up and looks down at you with his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“I-I'm scared.” You whisper.

“Of me?” He pulls out and settles beside you.

“No. If my husband ever finds out… he'll kill you.” Elvis sighs deeply and runs his hand through his hair.

“So he won't find out. Do you not want this?” He gently runs his fingertips up and down your body as he speaks.

“I do. I really do. I'd just hate to read about you being found in a hole in the desert.” You turn your head to look at him and he smirks.

“Honey. I'm Elvis Presley. You think I'm afraid of your husband?” It dawns on you that he has no idea who he's dealing with and what it would mean for anyone to find out about you.

“Elvis, my husband is a dangerous man. And he works with a lot of dangerous men who live to beat people with baseball bats. I'm not sure you want to do this.” He moves his hand up to your cheek and looks you in the eye.

“Honey, listen to me. I'm not scared. I have a lot of bodyguards and I know how to protect myself. If you don't wanna do this, I understand, but if you do, you’re safe.” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and then kisses your cheek softly. There's a strange amount of intimacy between the two of you, considering you've known each other less than 6 hours. You look into his eyes and think to yourself that it's not you you're worried about. But his eyes are so reassuring that you decide you'll cross that bridge when you come to it. For now, you need him.

“I want this.” You whisper as you roll him onto his back and straddle his hips. Again, you drag the head of his cock against you and then sink down onto him. It takes a bit for you to slip all of him inside you, but it's worth it. When he fills you fully, you moan in unison, throwing your head back in pleasure. “Oh God, Elvis.”

As you begin to move on him, his hands go to your hips and he guides you, moaning. He rolls you deep and slow, rocking you back and forth like a ship on the ocean. The speed, depth, and angle of his movements have your eyes rolling back in your head.

“That's good, doll. Fuck, that's good.” He moves you on him with more speed and more pressure as he races towards his high. You feel another orgasm start to gather in your belly and lean forward onto his chest as he starts to fuck you from underneath. He punctuates each thrust with a soft moan. “Cum for me again, honey. I wanna feel you.”

It doesn't take much more for you to do exactly as he asks and tumble over the edge into another climax, your pussy squeezing him just right.

“Oh, fuck.” He fully intends to pull you off of him, as he always does with his one-night girls, but something keeps him right where he is and he cums deep inside you, his cock throbbing with his release. You relax into each other, panting and sweating and he wraps his arms around you. What is it about you that's making him like this? After several minutes in this position, you peel yourself off of him and start to get dressed. “You have to leave so quick, honey?”

You glance at the clock on the wall. It's almost three.

“My husband gets off around four. I have to be home when he gets there.” He tries not to sigh too deeply. For some reason, he had kind of hoped you'd stay and sleep with him.

“Where do you live?”

“The Flamingo. We have a suite.” He nods and watches as you put yourself back together again, walking to the living room to fetch your dress. You walk back into the bedroom fully dressed and look at him in the bed.

“Elvis, I told you. One night only. This can't be a thing.” He nods reluctantly and holds his hand out for you to walk closer and take it. You do, kissing his knuckles softly.

“I know, doll. But it was fun while it lasted.” You sit on the bed and he pulls you into his arms, not wanting to let go.

“How long are you here?” You ask quietly.

“As long as I want to be. But it doesn't matter. Does it?” He asks with a sliver of hope in his voice.

“No. It doesn't.” You stand up away from him and move towards the door. “Goodbye, Elvis.”

“Goodbye, honey.” He watches as you disappear through the bedroom door and then listens for the front door of the suite to close. He lays back, looking up at the ceiling for a while, missing you. On the street, you hail a cab and make it home just in time. You're in bed, almost asleep when you hear Carl open the front door. He doesn't disturb you, but instead gets undressed and slips under the covers. Every single part of you wishes he was Elvis and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

Back in his room, Elvis tries to go to sleep without thinking of you, but he's wildly unsuccessful. There's something about the way you seem to understand his loneliness that makes him wish he could see you again.

Still, you both lay in your respective beds trying to go to sleep. But the sun comes up on both of you still awake.

Elvis sighs deeply and drags himself out of bed, resigned to the fact that sleep is not happening. He walks to his jacket, picking it up off the floor and shaking it. Something falls out and hits the floor with a small thud.

“What the…?” He picks your ring up and holds it up to the light, a sly smile spreading across his face. Now he'll have to see you again.

******

Do we need more?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[dyingswanpavlova]

Shortcomings

Aemond Targaryen x Venice Targaryen (sisterwife!reader)

Despite her marriage with Aemond, Venice normally seeks comfort and love in her other brothers arms. Until Aemond suddenly comes up with a wicked idea...

warnings: incest, (oral) sex, cheating, swear words

author's note: hey, sweet people! i haven't actually finished the show yet, so I'm asking you (very hopefully) that you'll kindly ignore if storywise my oneshot doesn't make sense. another thing is that english isn't my first language, so I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. aside from all that, I hope you enjoy reading it. Much love 🤍 Lana.

"Are you anywhere near close?"

Her brother pulled his head back with a frown and tilted it to the side. The expression in his eyes was nothing short of confused, but there was a hint of pain there, she could tell.

"I cannot remember a time before when you asked me something like that", he murmured and averted his gaze.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Venice quickly tipped up his chin, her touch gentle and affectionate.

"You know that is not how I meant it", she muttered. "But Aemond might come back any minute now."

It was no secret that Aemond spent most of his time in either the training yard or the library. But sometimes, on rare occasions like that day or well, in the evenings, he managed to make his way back to his sister-wife, obviously one thing in mind.

Conceive.

So far, it hadn't worked. It had been nearly two years of trying. She would have lied, had she claimed to be displeased about it. Having a child, an heir, with Aemond wasn't exactly her dream. But sometimes she asked herself if maybe there was something wrong with her...With her body. Or her soul. Did the Gods think she wouldn't make a good mother, so they kept her from becoming one? Venice wanted children. Desperately. Just not with Aemond. But that wasn't up for debate, since Alicent made it so abundantly clear that they were to wed. And that was the end of it. Which it was. Except, it didn't really end things between Venice and Aegon.

"Fucking hell", Aegon murmured and rolled off of her, his gaze directed at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell hard with each breath and his eyes were nearly unfocused as he kept his gaze averted.

"Please, I...That is truly not how I meant it", she said gently and attempted to touch his cheek. He caught her wrist in a firm grip before she could and he turned to face her.

"Is he still fucking you every night?"

She felt her face flush at the bluntness of his words and coming from him, they stung.

"That is not how this is and you know it", she murmured in a mixture of shame and embarassment. She tried to shrug his hand off, but he was stronger than her and she wasn't really trying all too hard. She sighed and averted her gaze.

"He is my husband after all."

Aegon let out a laugh. A cruel, mocking sound. It was her own fault, she thought. After all it was her who angered him in the first place.

"Yes. And Helaena is my wife. Do you see me up on her every night?"

The flush on her face deepened. "No."

"Maybe I should."

"Aegon!"

"What?" He snapped and shot her a deep glare. "Is it not true? I have not attempted to touch her in years. I thought we were on the same page, but maybe..."

"You have the twins", she interrupted him firmly. "Do you think I enjoy being with him, Aegon? I do not. But he wants an heir, of course he does. Every man does, do they not? And by law, I owe him one. Or at least, I have to try."

His frown deepened and he released his grip on her wrist.

"Yes, well, whatever", he said coolly and got up to get dressed. He slid his breeches back on and kept eyeing her with a hard look.

Venice stayed seated on the bed and met his angry look with a soft, guilty one of her own.

"Please", she said gently. "Do not leave like this. I could not bear it. I will not sleep a wink."

His own expression softened, albeit barely.

"I hate that he gets to touch you", he suddenly said. "That he gets to have you. Every night. While all I get are stolen encounters and Are you anywhere near close?" He mocked openly.

Venice could feel her cheeks burn in shame and she lowered her gaze down to her hands. She looked at the intricate bracelet Aegon had given her many years ago, as a name day gift. He followed her gaze and sighed.

"Do not make that face. You know I cannot stay angry when you make that face."

She looked up at him and it was as though only one thing had stuck with her from the conversation.

"Please, do not touch her", she said quietly.

Aegon's expression softened even more. He stopped fidgeting with his buttons and sat down beside her, gently placing his hand on top of her own. His fingertips ran over the cold metal of the bracelet, a subtle smile on his lips.

"Stupid girl."

That made her smile and he smiled in return. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured: "I will not. I promised you."

Venice gently closed her fingers around his own and whispered: "And I promised you, the moment I am with child, he will not get to touch me ever again. And I meant it. I just...need to get pregnant. Maybe I will some day."

Her eldest brother regarded her with a long, thoughtful look, before he nodded and instead cupped her cheek in his hand. She leaned into the touch without thinking about it and her eyes fluttered shut.

"You will", he whispered gently. "Maybe it will be me who makes sure of it."

Venice felt her breath catch in her throat and her eyes widened almost comically. He had always pulled out so far. The thought of deceiving Aemond like that, of having him raise his brothers son as his own, it felt wrong. But then again...What if it wasn't Venice who was unable to procreate? If it was Aemond, what then? And would it truly be all that bad? He would have his heir and it wouldn't be any less of his child. Aegon wouldn't risk the entire legacy of his family by speaking the truth. And also, how would they even know who the father was? They both had silver hair and amethyst eyes.

"You left me highly unsatisfied", he finally purred and his breath tickled her ear. "I cannot tell if you are familiar with the male body enough to know, but that is rather unhealthy for me. You will have to make up for it by tomorrow."

She grinned and pinched his side.

"As you wish, my prince."

He gave her a warm smile, before he leaned in and captured her lips in a tender kiss.

"I love you", he breathed.

She smiled against his lips. However jealous she was of Helaena for being his wife, she knew she was special for him.

She knew he had never said those words to anyone else. And he wouldn't.

Two hours later, Aemond and Venice made their way back to their chambers from the dining hall. They had hardly spoken a word, as they rarely did as of late. A little bit of polite chatter about his training and her embroidery. Idiot. He didn't even know how she despised embroidery.

It hadn't always been as cold and calculated between them.

Back when he was her brother more than her husband, she had truly adored him. Aemond had been the one who had taught her how to read. She remembered vividly, the day he lost his eye. She had been young, yes, but mostly had she been furious. Like it was yesterday, she remembered the scene infront of the whole family. Rhaenyra had demanded for Aemond to be sharply questioned and before she even realized it, Venice called out the dreaded words.

He is your brother, you wretched whore.

For anyone to hear. Aegon had pulled her back and given her a rough shake. Of course she had expected to get her tongue cut out, insulting the rightful heir so openly. But no. All she got was a good scolding from her nursemaid and Ser Criston had escorted her back to their quarters, before anyone else had to leave.

But aside from that, she recognized the silent pride in her mothers eyes, Aemonds quiet gratitude.

Her engagement to Jacaerys had immediately been broken off and she got betrothed to Aemond instead. She never spoke to either of the bastards again. The bastards of Dragonstone and their miserable mother were all dead to her. Aemond respected her for that.

Things changed when they married though.

At first, Venice tried to be a good wife. She really did. She cut off the intimate encounters with Aegon, calling their relationship sinful. She was a married woman now. She wanted to be proper and good for her husband.

But it didn't work. The consummation had been odd enough. There simply was no...passion. It had felt as though they were trying to weave a shawl. Mechanical. Cold. Calculated. It felt awkward enough for them to kiss, but the moment he slid off his belt Venice had felt cold sweat on her forehead.

Aegon was as much her brother as Aemond was, but to her it felt different. With Aegon she could argue all day, they insulted each other and fought it off, but at the end of the day, they made up and things were good again. They got jealous over each other and they were fiercely protective. Sometimes, a little too much. It was pretty obvious to someone who paid close attention.

It had always been obvious how they had always been in love.

But Aemond...Aemond. Things simply got awkward between Aemond and Venice. She tried for a few months...but eventually, she ended up in Aegon's embrace and she found he was what she needed to be happy. To feel alive. To feel at all.

Venice blamed their mother. Of course she had begged and pleaded for her to let them wed. But no. Tradition.

Aegon The Conqueror had wed Visenya. It was tradition.

But what about the part, where he wed Rhaenys, too?

Venice was the youngest. And by far the greatest troublemaker. She just couldn't keep her mouth shut for her life. After all, she insulted Rhaenyra terribly when she was only seven.

Aemond was far more quiet. That didn't mean he was softer, no. He had this front, these mile high walls, he didn't break them down for anyone. Not even his wife.

There were some rare moments of tenderness. Sometimes when he took her to bed, he would look at her for a while and gently touch her cheek, kiss her forehead and then her lips. It was rare, but it happened. Or whenever he spoke of the eye incident or the things he considered weaknesses. These were the moments when Venice' guilt grew unbearably. She felt always guilty. Always. He was her husband and she was deceiving him, cheating on him with their own brother. And even worse, they were deceiving Helaena.

She didn't do it out of malice. She simply loved Aegon. He was her soul, her heart. She couldn't breathe whenever he was angry at her, truly angry. She feared for his life at all times. She adored everything about him. And she trusted only him in this crude, godforsaken castle. She loved him.

But Gods, she felt guilty about it.

Aemond suddenly spoke up and his voice made her jump. She had hardly noticed that they had finally reached their chambers.

"What?"

"I wanted to know how you feel." He raised brow. "You seem distracted. Are you well?"

"Forgive me", she murmured and rubbed her temples. "I was just lost in thought."

She went over to the dresser and began rummaging through it for a nightdress.

"Anything interesting?"

"No", she murmured absentmindedly. "I guess I simply am tired."

"Too tired?", he asked calmly as he began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. His skilled hands, most skilled with a sword, trembled whenever he attempted to undress. He was sure it was because of the angle he had to take, looking down with the missing eye. He had to tilt his head in an unnatural manner. Before he could finish, gentle fingers took hold of his own and swiftly undid the rest of his buttons. He gave her a subtle nod.

"So?" He asked calmly. "We must not try tonight. Tomorrow will do fine."

She looked at him thoughtfully. She wasn't really in the mood, but she was never really in the mood with him. Still, the guilt weighed hard on her.

"No, darling. Let us try. I have a feeling it might work for us tonight."

Aemond raised a brow as he slid his breeches off, leaving him only in his smallclothes. He took the eyepatch off and set it aside on his bedside table.

"What makes you think that?"

She shrugged off her current dress and hummed softly.

"Just a feeling I have."

She was about to put on her nightdress, but eventually decided against it. He would slide it off of her anyway in a minute. She placed the dress on a nearby chair and grabbed the big candle in order to light the others.

He couldn't help but stare at her form while she did. She paraded around the room naked and lit the candles like she was some kind of wicked maid. The thought made him smirk to himself.

Aemond slid off his own smallclothes and went to lay on the bed while he waited for her to finish. He hummed softly.

"You look...pretty."

His voice was like silk, so gentle and sweet that it nearly made her cry. His words were what surprised her, he wasn't usually so open for compliments.

She stopped fidgeting with the candles for a moment and looked up at him. Her face flushed slightly as her gaze roamed his naked form. He was lean, but oh-so fit and he was already hard and waiting for her, simply by watching her light the candles that way. Two years later and she still blushed. The thought made his smirk widen.

"Thank you", she murmured.

"Are you trying to set us on fire?" He teased. "Come, get over here." He wasn't normally this impatient either. Sure, he was a man and he had needs obviously, but they were normally rather casual about it. Like it was something that needed to be done. It could be nice at times, but on most days it was simply duty. Or so she thought.

She set the candle aside and slowly approached the bed.

"How should I..."

He caught her wrist and pulled her down, causing her to let out a startled gasp as she stumbled forward and landed on top of him. He looked up at her with a smug expression. Calm as always, but she could see the hint of mischief in his eye.

"Like this", he purred.

Venice opened her mouth and closed it again. She normally wasn't on top. She didn't even know how.

"Are you...sure?"

Instead of answering, he gripped the back of her thighs and tugged her legs apart. She felt her face flush even more as she felt his hardness pressed up right against her.

"Not yet", he whispered. "I want to try something."

She frowned slightly in confusion. "And what?"

"Stay like that", he commanded lowly. "And let me know if you want me to stop."

Her frown deepened and she was about to ask further, when suddenly he disappeared underneath her and into the covers. She froze when she realized where he was headed and her heart skipped several beats. His grip on her thighs stayed firm, but before she knew what was going on, she felt his hot breath wash over her heat. That alone was enough to make her moan.

"Are you sure?", she gasped out breathlessly. "You have never before-"

He quickly closed his mouth around her, taking her in and began teasing her with his tongue. The sound she made was something between a moan and a shriek.

Her fingers clutched at the bedsheets tightly as she tried to keep her balance, all the while his tongue flicked over her wet folds like it was made for that.

Venice quickly forgot who and where she was and the only thing on her mind was Aemond.

Her eyes shot open in surprise.

Aemond. This was Aemond.

She felt herself grow closer and closer to the warm, blissful feeling that his tongue provided. Her moans grew louder and more breathless, while she tangled her free hand in his hair and her nails gently grazed his scalp.

She never ever came before, not with Aemond. But now it felt as though, even if she wanted to stop herself from going over the edge, it was impossible. He licked and lapped at her most sensitive skin, until she felt a white wave of bliss wash over her, so hot and good that she found herself mumbling out Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods- until she went completely still.

He was still underneath her, gently nipping and kissing at her skin, until he felt her shudder and nearly recoil in overstimulation. He slowly pushed himself back up and looked at her with a satisfied smirk.

"How was that?"

Venice couldn't help herself, she collapsed next to him like a puddle. She tried to speak, but all that came out were ragged breaths.

He was very perceptive and most likely knew that she had never reached the peak before, despite her relentless attempts to make it seem like she did. She had never enjoyed their mingling too much, but it would have killed her to purposely hurt him by letting him know the truth.

And still, that night was different. He had caused her to tug on his hair while her eyes rolled back and she nearly screamed out his name. Very uncharacteristic for them.

Eventually she found her voice back.

"That was...insane", she breathed out exhaustedly. "How did you..."

"Your taste is exquisite", he said bluntly and propped himself up on his elbow.

Venice felt herself blush furiously at his words. Just a minute ago, he had buried his tongue in her and now she blushed.

She was sweet, he suddenly realized. His sweet wife.

"I..."

"We can stop for tonight", he interrupted her gently. "I do not wish to overwhelm you."

She stared at him with a soft frown. "Where did you learn that?"

Aemond. Great, stern Aemond. And now it was him whose face was covered in the softest blush.

"I...", he cleared his throat. "I read it. In a book."

"In a book?", she asked incredulously. "What kind of book?"

"Well, none of those you will find in our library", he said matter-of-factly. Then he sighed and lay back down on his back.

"I wished to make you happy. That is all."

She suddenly felt like someone had punched her gut. Make you happy. No, she felt like the worst person alive. A terrible, terrible whore she was. Not Rhaenyra. No. She was the whore.

"But you always make me happy", she choked out barely audibly.

He cocked a brow and shook his head.

"You always compliment my intellect as well as my brains and yet you did not think I would figure out how you pretend to feel pleased for my sake?"

Her cheeks burned hot in embarassment and guilt.

"Aemond, I...I truly did not..."

He gently pressed his index finger against her lips.

"I am not angry. I promise."

When he pulled his finger back, she bit her lip and regarded him with a careful look.

"Please, forgive me. I simply thought, there must be something wrong with me and I did not wish to hurt you. I do enjoy our..."

He raised an expectant brow.

"Our encounters."

Aemond let out a sarcastic laugh and shook his head, his gaze glued to the ceiling.

"Yes. As do I", he murmured sarcastically.

She knew she had no right to feel hurt. But she did, oh Gods, how she did. Before she even realized it, she already wiped a tear off her cheek. He caught the movement and his eye widened in horror.

"No, no, no, I did not mean it like that!" He quickly sat up and took her hands in his. "Venice, that is not what I meant. You must believe me."

She stared down at their intertwined hands, the look in her eyes far away.

"Then how did you mean it?"

"Of course I enjoy being close to you", he murmured and gently wiped her face dry with his palm. "But I always thought something is missing."

Now it was her who raised a brow and he sighed.

"Passion, Venice. The fire. Your pleasure. I might have spilled my seed, yes, but I never felt truly satisfied", he explained quietly. "Because you did not."

Her expression immediately softened and she gently squeezed his hand. After a long moment, she whispered: "I think I know what the problem is."

He looked at her, obviously curious.

"All we ever did was try to conceive", she said quietly. "There is no romance in that."

He hummed softly. "What do you suggest?"

She regarded him with a thoughtful look, before an idea struck her. She bit her lip and gently pushed him back against the pillows.

"What are you doing?", he murmured.

"Shhh." She gently cupped his face in her palms. "Just...stay still and let me try something."

He wanted to question her further, but the second he felt her lips against his neck, he was done for. His good eye fluttered shut and a soft breath came over his lips.

"You do not have to do this", he whispered. "I did not mean it like that when I said I was not satisfied. I am now. I am because you are and-"

When she slowly sunk her teeth into the skin of his shoulder, he broke himself off with a soft groan.

"Oh Gods. Do that again."

She smiled against him and began to gently nibble on his skin like before. She took her time, exploring every inch of his bare chest. He brought up a hand to the back of her head, his fingers gently combing through her hair as his eye stayed shut.

By the time he felt her glide her tongue down his stomach, he shuddered and couldn't suppress the small sound of pleasure.

"Fuck, yes", he breathed out. And when she licked him again, he moaned even louder.

His hardness was so apparent now, she was sure she had never seen or felt him like that. It felt as though the softest touch might cause him to burst.

Venice hummed softly as her tongue rolled along his waistline and her hot breath caused him to inhale sharply.

"Tell me that you want it", she breathed out. "Please, I need to know."

"Want it? Fuck, yes, yes, darling, please."

It was enough to make her smile, but not enough to have mercy. She kissed her way down his thigh, which caused him to whimper.

"I did not tease you like this", he murmured.

"No, you did not." She breathed a puff of hot air against him, causing him to moan loudly. Gods, she had no idea how badly she had craved that sound. "But you caught me off-guard. And this is my way of retaliating."

"If you are trying to get me to beg, Venice-"

"No", she whispered instantly. "You are my leader."

Her words made him pause, then filled him with a sudden rush of power and dominance.

"Open your mouth."

That was more like it.

Slowly, and a little nervously, she parted her lips. Not much and she swallowed down a nervous lump.

He reached down his free hand and gently cupped her jaw.

"Look at me", he commanded softly. And of course she did. She stared up at him with wide, dark eyes as her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

He gently held her in place with one hand, while the other one slowly treaded through her locks. Before she realized it, she felt him press his hardness against her lips, silently begging for entrance. Her breath hitched and she slowly parted her trembling lips even wider, allowing him to inch forward into her mouth, very carefully. When he felt her soft lips and the warmth of her mouth envelop him slowly, he let out a low groan.

"Ah, fuck."

She kept staring up at him with wide eyes, while her body seemed to be on fire. She could feel the dampness between her legs grow into a pool of heat.

Aemond gently tightened the grip in her hair and carefully pulled her closer, which caused her to take him even deeper into her mouth. His eye fluttered shut and he didn't even try to suppress the sounds of pleasure he made, much to her pleasure.

"Let me feel your tongue, darling. Lick it for me."

The heat between her legs grew even hotter and she slowly pushed her tongue forward, carefully running it up and down his tip. She flicked it against him and involuntarily clenched her lips around him, sucking gently.

The sound he made was sinful. And she nearly came again, just listening to him.

"Yes", he breathed out. "Yes, my darling, my sweet. Just like that. Do not stop. Do not..."

He carefully bucked his hips up, causing her to take him in almost all the way. She let out a soft moan and ignored the tears that pricked her eyes. She couldn't focus on that. All she could think about was how she slowly slid her hand between her thighs.

"My good girl", he purred breathlessly. "My beautiful, good girl."

He bucked his hips up and pulled them back and then anew, causing her to whimper.

"Fuck-"

When he felt her gently sucking again, he nearly lost it.

"Harder, darling. Just a little harder."

She immediately obeyed and while her fingers worked on herself relentlessly, she moved her head and took him in as deep as it was possible without being forced to gag. She felt him twitch and throb between her lips and it made her melt.

"Oh darling, I am so close. So close", he gasped out. He moved his hips, gently and carefully, but the grip on her hair was tight, almost bruising. It nearly brought tears to her eyes. And at the same time she knew, she had never felt this aroused before.

He began moving his hips more and more urgently, until he was ready to burst.

"Pull your head back, sweetling. I do not wish to...ruin you."

She looked up at him with the utmost tender care and respect and whispered: "I am your wife, Aemond. Ruin me."

These words were enough to force him to move again. And then he did. He did ruin her. His entire body froze, except for his hardness. He let out a shuddery breath and he throbbed and throbbed until he was sure he had spilled himself in between her lips. He had half a mind to find a napkin for her, but-

Gods, the sound of her swallowing forced him to moan again.

"You did not have to do that", he breathed out and gently held her chin.

Venice could barely open her eyes. The second she felt him go over the edge, her fingers drove her past the point of no return again, causing her to writhe and moan beneath him.

Eventually she pulled her head back and whispered: "But I wanted to."

He gently cupped her cheek in his hand and guided her to come back up to him. When she lay on her side beside him, he kept staring into her eyes and gently caressing her cheek.

"That was...insane."

She smirked. "I thought you were more creative."

He laughed. A rich sound. A sound she hadn't heard in...ever.

Her eyes widened when she realized she wanted to hear it again. And again and again and again.

"Listen, Venice. I know we did not start on the best terms", he said quietly.

Her chest felt tight as she nodded.

"But that...tonight, it showed me that I feel more for you than I initially thought and..." he cleared his throat. He wasn't used to this. Feelings.

"Just...give me a chance." He murmured.

Her eyes widened even more and despite herself, she felt herself nod again.

Aemond pressed a long kiss to her forehead and sighed contentedly. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, closer, closer.

She felt like she was about to suffocate. But...what...Aegon...

And despite herself, she pushed the thought away.

She was in bed now, with her husband. And suddenly she realized she owed him far more than just an heir. She owed him loyalty and a lifelong marriage.

And that was exactly what she longed for.

[rintarosluvr]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊

• Sylus × Reader

Topics: Y/n being dense, unresolved romantic tension and flirting, Y/n teasing sylus, Zayne, Xavier and Rafayel mentioned!

Note: Probably slow updates because classes started again

Word count: 3k

Chap.2

Chap.3

"I've been thinking a lot lately" you say

"About what?" Davina asks, glancing up from her phone as she scrolls through details about the trip your class and some other classes were going on for a project

"You guys might be right" you admit, sighing as you close the suitcase

"Finally!" Leanne exclaims "Took you long enough. So when are you going to confess?"

"What? No!" you shake your head "I'm not even sure he has feelings for me. I'm just going to figure it out during the trip"

"And if he does have feelings, you'll confess?" Leanne presses

"I never said I have feelings for him" you point out, raising an eyebrow

"Is she making sense to you guys?" Leanne asks turning to your friends

"She does" Vanessa says, nodding in agreement

"Yeah, totally" Kaori chuckles, leaning back

"So how are we gonna room?" Davina asks, reading out loud from the trip details "It says four people per apartment but there's ten of us"

"I'm not rooming with Amari, I still remember his snores" Kaori says dramatically, clearly haunted by the memory

"Yeah, I'll pass on rooming with Eydis or him. Knowing them, they'll be out all night and come back drunk" you add

"Fair point" Vanessa agrees with a nod "Maybe we should call them in case they've already picked their roommates"

"Smart" Leanne says

"Y/n, call Sylus" Davina says, suddenly

You raise an eyebrow "Why him specifically?"

"He always picks up when you call. The other guys have their phones on do not disturb all the time" Kaori explains

"Fine" You roll your eyes picking up your phone and call Sylus, within a second, he answers

"You called?"

You immediately frown "Why are you acting like I'm interrupting something?"

He chuckles "What's your question?"

"Do any of you already have roommates for the trip? We're trying to figure out who's with who" you explain

"From what we know, Mar and Roy paired up with Xavier and Zayne" Eydis says, leaning over the back of the couch next to Sylus

"So, who are you guys rooming with?" you ask, already sensing trouble

"The two of us are obviously a duo" Eydis replies casually

"Continue" Leanne prompts

"Also" Eydis says, grinning mischievously "I already submitted who we wanted to room with"

"You did what?!" Davina exclaims

"Uh yeah" Eydis continues "Y/n and Vanessa are rooming with us"

"What the fuck?" Vanessa mutters under her breath as you abruptly hang up

"That just pissed me off" you groan, tossing your phone aside

"I was really hoping we'd all room together" Leanne sighs, clearly just as annoyed

"That probably wouldn't have worked anyway since there's five of us" Davina points out

"Doesn't make it less frustrating" Vanessa says, crossing her arms

"Right" you mumble

Kaori sighs "Well, at least we're in the same building. We'll just have to spend most of the time hanging out in one place"

"So are you excited about rooming with Sylus?" Davina asks

"Please don't remind me" you groan, sinking back into the couch "Wait, if he has a crush on me, why hasn't he confessed? He's such a direct guy?"

"Maybe he's waiting to see if it's mutual?" Vanessa suggests, shrugging

"That would make sense" you mumble, the idea settling uncomfortably in your mind

"Or maybe he's just enjoying messing with you" Kaori teases

"Very helpful Ri, I already know that" you deadpan

"Hey, I'm just saying. Sylus is definitely not the type to make a move without knowing he has a shot" she adds with a knowing look

You sigh grabbing a pillow and tossing it at her "I don't need this kind of analysis right now"

"Too late" Leanne chimes in "You brought this on yourself the moment you started overthinking"

[The Next Day]

"You really not speaking to us?" Eydis asks, leaning over to catch your gaze as you turn your face away, arms crossed, you don't respond still pointedly ignoring him as everyone lounges at the airport, killing time before the flight

"You guys really fucked us up" Vanessa says glaring at Eydis and Sylus "Why us tho?"

"Yeah" Davina chimes in, equally annoyed "You could've added Kazu and asked Rafayel to join you or something"

Sylus shrugs, unbothered "Wouldn't one of you still be forced to room with three random people? There are five of you?"

"We would've figured something out" Kaori says "But now Kazu is stuck rooming with us"

Kazuo shrugs "I've done it before. Don't mind it"

"Yeah, because last time we didn't want to room with strangers" Leanne points out

"You should be mad at them" you mumble, still refusing to look at Sylus or Eydis

Kazuo laughs and casually throws an arm over your shoulder, squeezing your cheek affectionately "We'll both survive. Don't worry"

You groan "You wanna switch? Please say yes"

He chuckles shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good. Rooming with them is hell"

You let out a dramatic sigh, tilting your head to the side until it rests against his chest "You could save me, but instead, you're just letting me drown"

"It's all love" he teases, patting your you head

"Liar" you mutter, tossing Kazuo's arm off of you as you make your way over to Amari and Leroy

"So when we get there, we're gonna find something to smoke" Amari says, grinning as you take a seat next to him

"For sure" Leroy nods, turning to you."You joining us?"

"Why not" you shrug

"You smoke?" Sylus's voice cuts in as he sits down nearby

"Yeah" you say, like it's common knowledge "Here and there"

"Since when?" he asks, his brows furrowed

You shrug again "Don't know, like a few years now"

Before Sylus can respond, Leroy stands up "We're gonna hit the store. You guys want anything?"

"Yeah, grab me a drink, whichever is fine" you say

"I'm good, thanks" Sylus adds

Both guys nod before heading off, leaving you and Sylus alone

"So why'd you agree with Eydis's stupid plan?" you ask, turning to Sylus even though there's a seat between you two, eyeing him suspiciously

"I didn't really have a choice" he shrugs "He went ahead and did it himself"

"But you didn't stop him" you point out, narrowing your eyes

He smirks leaning back in the seat "Why would I? I don't mind rooming with you"

"Oh, how generous of you" you say, rolling your eyes "Did you ever think that maybe I mind?"

"Nope" he replied "You get to spend quality time with me. Sounds like a win"

"Quality time?" you scoff "Please, I'd rather room with Mar and Roy"

"Sure you do" he teases "You wouldn't last five minutes before begging to switch back"

"You wish" you fire back, narrowing your eyes at him "You'll be the one regretting it when I cockblock you whenever I can"

Sylus raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips "Oh, really? You're that dedicated?"

"Absolutely" you say with confidence

Sylus leans forward, practically daring you to keep going "You'll just end up cockblocking yourself"

You blink in confusion, still processing his words "Wait, what? You can't just say stuff like that and walk away"

Sylus flashes a grin, clearly amused by the reaction he's gotten "Sure I can" He picks up his phone and steps a few feet away, clearly intent on ignoring you now but you can still feel your body heat up from his teasing

"You're so annoying" you mutter under your breath

But it doesn't stop you from wondering what he meant and part of you hated how easily he managed to get under your skin

"What did he say?" Davina asks siting down, her eyes narrowed in curiosity as she watches you

"What?" you ask still processing the conversation you just had

"You were shocked, why?" She presses

You let out a deep breath "I told him l'd cockblock him for rooming with me and he said that l'd end up cockblocking myself"

Davina's eyes widen and she leans in, lowering her voice "He wants to fuck you" "I thought he meant he-"

"Nope, you thought wrong" she interrupts, You roll your eyes, clearly not in the mood for her teasing "Why do you look so happy about it?"

She places her hand on your shoulder, giving you a knowing smile "Because he wants you, Y/n. Stop acting so dense and accept it"

You scoff, shaking your head "Never"

Davina leans in closer "You lowkey want him too"

“Believe what you want”

"You've been staring" Vanessa says, glancing at you with a small smile

"I'm not" you reply quickly, not wanting to admit it

"So you haven't been staring at his thighs?" she adds, raising an eyebrow

You let out a dramatic sigh throwing your head back in frustration "I hate Davina"

Vanessa chuckles "She was right" "Yeah, I figured" you mumble, feeling your body heat up

"We're ready! You guys ready to explore the city?" You hear Eydis call from across the room, snapping you out of your flustered state

"We've been ready for the past thirty minutes" Vanessa says, crossing her arms and looking at the guys "But guess you pretty boys have to take all the time to get ready, huh?"

You chuckle standing up and grab your small bag "Right"

"So you're admitting I'm good looking?" Sylus says, joining you as you walk toward the door

"You're sounding delusional. Never said that" you say, pulling out your lip gloss and knocking on the door next door

"You did agree with Vanessa, so you do think we're pretty boys" Eydis states, throwing an arm over Sylus's shoulder as you apply your lip gloss

You roll your eyes "Living in a world with delusional men is exhausting"

Eydis grins while Sylus just watches you, his gaze lingering on your lips as you finish applying the gloss and put it back in your bag

"Get out!" Kaori mutters as she opens the door, trying to push Leroy out of their room

"I didn't do anything!" Leroy protests

"Farting is something" she snaps, glaring at him

You frown "You guys ready?"

They both stop, mid action. Kaori was still pushing Leroy out while he clung to the door knob

"Your first mistake was letting them in" Vanessa says, glancing at the three other girls approaching you.

"We came to ask if we're going to the karaoke building we saw" Amari says, giving you a hopeful look.

"Should be fun. Why not?" Eydis grins

"Be aware, there are some people that are tone deaf, so your ears might start bleeding" you warn, glancing at Sylus

"That was aimed at Sylus" Leanne adds with a chuckle

"It's that bad?" Davina asks

"Terrible, actually" you mumble meeting Sylus's eyes

He gives you a small smile, clearly enjoying your teasing "Glad you're paying attention" he says

"Sure you do" you reply and follow Vanessa, who's already being pulled along by Davina

You feel an arm slip over your shoulder "This trip is gonna be funny, isn't it?" Eydis says, pulling you closer as he wraps his other arm around Sylus's shoulder

"Don't forget about the project we have to make while we're here" you remind him

"Such a buzzkill you are" Sylus mutters, You roll your eyes at him

[5:54PM]

"I'm honestly disappointed. I wanted to hear Sylus sing" Davina says, finally putting her phone down

Amari shakes his head "You guys didn't even give us a chance to sing. Mic hogs, the lot of you"

"I thought they were great" Leroy cuts in as he leans forward "You girls should seriously consider being a girl group. You've got the vocals and the moves"

"Yeah, I agree" Kazuo adds, finishing off his drink "Especially considering how you all used to dance back in the day. You've got the talent, it wouldn't be bad at all"

Vanessa shrugs, sipping her soda "Doesn't sound like a terrible idea"

"If you're serious, I know some people who could help you out" Sylus says casually

Kaori nods "We'll keep that in mind. Could be worth exploring"

You reach across the table to snag a few of Sylus's fries without asking, a habit you've had since high school

He doesn't even flinch, letting you grab as many as you want

Leanne, catching your quiet amusement, turns to you "What about you? What do you think?"

You pause, mid reach for another fry, blinking as all eyes turn to you "Uh... sounds fun" you say, shrugging "I mean, younger me always wanted to be famous. Maybe it's something I've always lowkey dreamed of"

"Same" Davina agrees "It's giving childhood dreams, for sure"

"Us all being in a girl group? Absolute chaos. But honestly, it'd be amazing. You can't tell me we wouldn't crush it" Vanessa says

You feel the brush of Sylus's legs against yours, making you stop mid motion, narrowing your eyes as you glance up at him

Without saying a word, you pull the tray in front of him toward you, raising an eyebrow in question

His expression doesn't falter, unreadable as ever "What?" he asks, his voice calm but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes

You don't respond, instead slowly sliding the tray closer to yourself as if daring him to make a move, His legs stay where they are, practically caging yours under the table

He leans back in his seat, resting an arm lazily on the chair next to him "Don't look at me like that. You're the one stealing my fries"

"And you're the one being invasive" you shoot back, though you don't move your legs either

He smirks "You're not moving them, though"

You roll your eyes grabbing another fry off the tray to avoid addressing his comment. Sylus just chuckles, leaning forward to steal a fry from the tray you just claimed

"Touché" he murmurs, his smirk widening when you glare at him

You slide your feet out of your sandals under the table, brushing them lightly against Sylus's bare legs

The sudden contact makes him pause, his eyebrow arches, an amused challenge flickering in his eyes

In response, you flash him a sweet almost innocent fake smile, as if daring him to call you out

"Oh, so we're doing that now?" he asks, his tone low enough that the others at the table don't notice

"Doing what?" you reply, feigning ignorance as your foot trails higher against his calf

His smirk deepens, but he doesn't move away "You've got some nerve, stealing my fries and starting something you can't finish"

"Who says I can't finish?" you counter, still maintaining your mock innocent demeanor as you grab another fry from his tray

Sylus leans forward, lowering his voice so only you can hear "Careful, Y/n. I might just call your bluff"

The heat rising to your face betrays you "Try me"

The tension lingers for a beat too long before Sylus shifts slightly, his hand brushing under the table

Without warning, he stops your foot from going even higher on his thighs, his fingers wrapping lightly around your ankle

You tilt your head, a sly smile spreading across your lips "I win" you say simply, your tone dripping with confidence

He raises an eyebrow, his thumb grazing your ankle in a way that sends a chill up your spine "You think so?" he asks

"I know so" you counter, leaning back, satisfied with your small victory

Sylus smirks, leaning closer across the table as if to close the distance between you "Games like this can backfire" he says, his grip loosening just enough to let your foot slip free

You shrug slipping your foot back into your sandal with deliberate slowness "Only if you're not good at them"

Taking a long sip of your drink, you try to ignore the flutter in your stomach, the way the tension still hangs between you like a taut wire

Sylus eyes never leave yours. The corner of his mouth quirks up in that maddeningly smug expression that makes your heart race and your irritation flare in equal measure

This wasn't over and you both knew it

"Alright, let's head back. We gotta start with the project" Kazuo says, standing up and stretching

"Yeah, I agree" you say, your tone breezy as you finally break eye contact with Sylus, sliding your bag onto your shoulder

"I still haven't read the email the professor sent" Amari admits, rubbing the back of his neck

"Which isn't shocking" Davina chimes in, You chuckle shaking your head "You're always unprepared"

"Hey, I like to keep things exciting" Amari grins

Chap.4>

[fushiglow]

10 things I've learned about being a fanfic author over the last year

At the time of writing this post, I have been writing and sharing fanfiction for Jujutsu Kaisen for almost two years. This time last year, my in-progress longfic, Over the Threshold, started to gain popularity and, over the last twelve months, I think it's fair to say I have become somewhat of a BNF in the SatoSugu community... Sigh...

While every creative wants their work to be seen, there is a threshold (ha) past which visibility brings difficulties, and unfortunately I went over it (ha) in recent months. It has changed my fandom experience significantly, and not entirely for the better. While there have been friendships for life forged, beautiful memories I'll carry with me for the rest of my life, and more kind words and fanart than I can shake a stick at, there have also been opportunists, naysayers, and even outright bullies.

Seeing your name thrown around in fandom spaces with little regard for the real person behind the writing — for your character, for your circumstances, for your creative liberty — does force you to re-evaluate your relationship with your work and your audience. With that in mind, I thought I'd share the lessons I've taken from the last year as a fanfic author.

I really hope this serves as advice for any fanfic authors seeking more visibility on their work, and also generally encourages more thoughtful engagement with fandom creators. Let's go!

1. Writing for anyone except yourself is still a bad idea

That doesn't mean it isn't sometimes worth taking reader preferences into account. It's just about knowing when to disregard them. We write fanfiction for lots of different reasons that vary from fic to fic. Sometimes, making other people happy is a good enough reason to write a fic, as long as that's what you set out to do and you're under no illusions about that.

However, letting reader expectations creep into your approach to your other work in a way that doesn't serve your personal creative vision is a bad idea, especially because...

2. People disrespect fanfic authors even more than you thought

There are plenty of kind, supportive people in fandom. However, the unfortunate truth is they are vastly outnumbered by people who will gobble up your work without even taking a moment to say thank you for the meal and who will, in fact, demand more from you instead.

Trying to please entitled people who are impossible to satisfy, who bring nothing of value to your fandom experience, and who may even resort to bullying if you don't play by their ever changing rulebook is a pointless endeavour — so don't bother!

3. Your writing process is a constant work in progress

Because you are a constant work in progress. You can't always expect something that worked for you a year ago to work the same now. There are too many variables in play, not least your skill as a writer. If the stabilisers you put on last year are no longer helping, maybe it's a sign you don't need them anymore. Maybe it's time to take them off and try something new.

I am still planning a more in depth writing process post, but the simple truth is, my writing process can be summed up as...

4. Whatever works!

My main piece of advice when it comes to writing is always going to be, "at some point, you've just got to do it". Sure, there are tools and techniques you can use to aid the process, but ultimately it always comes down to you and the words.

There's no right or wrong way to write, and there's no point comparing your process to someone else's, because ultimately you'll do whatever works for you. Whether you're someone who religiously practises a warm-up routine before sitting down to write or someone who stares at the screen for two months straight before vomiting up a masterpiece whole (or someone like me who jumbles their way through with a slightly different approach every time), it's all good as long as it ends with words on paper.

5. Writing for an audience changes the game

For better and for worse! Having an engaged readership on a WIP has, on occasion, created unique and invaluable opportunities to elevate my work beyond what would have been possible by myself. I'm very grateful for the artist-audience dialogue that I know we all crave when sharing our work with the world but aren't always fortunate enough to experience.

However, being aware of your audience while writing also influences your approach in unhelpful ways, no matter how much you try to get around it. Ensuring that I maintain control of that dialogue (or, at the very least, a 50/50 back and forth) requires constant vigilance.

6. Community is a double edged sword

I think everyone in fandom is seeking community of one kind or another. Building a dedicated community around my writing and seeing real good come of it was an unexpected by-product of sharing my fic with the world, but a deeply rewarding one. However, communities aren't static and they require a collaborative effort to maintain.

Series come to an end, fandom trends shift, people move on. On the flipside, you build something so wonderful that others want to share in its benefits without contributing in meaningful ways. Seeing a community so closely tied to your work and your sense of self shift into something unrecognisable until you start to feel like a stranger in your own space is very hard. Furthermore, managing a community in a dedicated forum takes significant time and energy which could be spent writing, which is why...

7. The most successful fanfic authors are selfish

What I mean by "successful" is up to you. However, whether it's replying to comments, supporting fellow creatives in the fandom, or even tagging work for discoverability, some authors disregard anything that prevents them from getting words onto the page. Some people are here to post their shit and leave — and more power to them.

The more of yourself you offer, the more people come to expect until, eventually, the already generous act of writing thousands of words for your fandom becomes the bare minimum. This is often where the topic of "fandom etiquette" comes up, but fanfic authors are already taking on a disproportionate share of the burden simply by sharing their work in the first place. Anything beyond that is a courtesy we are not obligated to extend. We should thank authors who thoughtfully choose to extend those courtesies anyway, rather than vilifying them when they don't.

8. Guarding your enjoyment is paramount

If, like me, you're an author who does enjoy being an active member of the fandom community, then it's important to watch out for the myriad of things that can come between you and your stories. Fandom politics, or even just fandom trends, can have a huge influence on your relationship with the characters that originally inspired you.

However, what other people are doing with them doesn't need to have any bearing on what you choose to do with them if you don't want it to. Responding to fandom trends in your writing can be satisfying, but maintaining a degree of separation between wider fandom and the stories that really matter to you is crucial, I think. That being said...

9. Collaboration feeds creativity

Some beautiful moments have been born from throwing an idea back and forth with my fellow fans. Simple things can rapidly snowball into territory you would never usually set foot in, and expanding your creative horizons like that can only ever be a good thing! Being open with your ideas in fandom spaces is always a bit of a worry, but the reward for extending that trust far outweighs the risk in my experience.

Additionally, I think we get caught up in the idea of absolute originality, but if you're active in fandom, you're always taking inspiration from your fellow creatives. Freely crediting the people who have inspired me has only ever brought wonderful things my way, and I've even gone on to develop collaborative relationships with some of them. Fandom is more fun with other people!

10. But ultimately, writing is lonely work

No matter how many friendships you forge, you still have to retreat into solitude to write the damn story eventually. Writing doesn't lend itself to active human connection as much as art or music. You can chat to someone while drawing or play an instrument alongside another person, but when you're writing, you have to go it alone.

And the worst part? Even when you eventually share your story with the world, no one will ever care about it as much as you do. Writing is such a deeply lonely experience most of the time, I think — which is why it's so important to hold onto all the things that make it worthwhile.

And that's that! I have been stewing on all of these thoughts privately, but I wanted to share them in case they're of value to someone. I tried to keep it as measured as possible, but I acknowledge that I'm in a bit of a bitter headspace about fandom in light of the Discourse TM and subsequent harassment over Christmas.

I don't think it will stop me writing stories for this fandom, but I do think it will make me more guarded in my interactions with the wider community, and I think that's a shame. I joined this fandom as a fan first and a creator second, and I'm deeply sad to feel like some of the parts I used to enjoy most are no longer accessible to me.

This experience has certainly got me thinking more critically about the trend of fandom creators seemingly becoming more distant as they gain popularity. The word "arrogant" is often thrown around, but I think it's much more likely that taking a less active role in fandom spaces isn't as much a choice as it is a necessary measure for the sake of wellbeing and even safety.

Fascinating in a sort of sick way.

[hewasverycinematic]

Psychological warfare has been committed

So in-ho is my second favourite character from S2 of squid game (After the salesman cause daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn)

anyway

he's so complex and layered so I thought I'd list all the times I noticed him just fucking with Gi-hun

Sang-woo styling

So the first one has been said before many a time and it's how he's obviously styled his hair similar to Sang-woo. This works in two ways; One being that he's showing familiarity to Gi-hun, making him instantly comfortable around him, but ALSO that he should not be trusted in the same way Sang-woo definitely shouldn't have been. But also in a way that's so subconscious to Gi-hun that he wouldn't even register it. The other way this works is that the fluffiness makes him seem literally soft just from looking at him, making not only Gi-hun trust him but the rest of their little squad. So even if Gi-huns sub-conscious kicks in with the "maybe lets not trust him, he looks like that dude who betrayed me last time and he's got that same number as someone else I shouldn't have trusted" he would look insane (Rightly so.) This also makes Jung-bae not telling him he's suspicious of 001 even more painful.

Mingle

Then grabbing his best friend in the mingle game. Not much to say on this one, I originally thought it was odd bc why Jung-bae? It makes itself clear by the end of the season that he needed Jung-bae to stay alive for the gut punch at the end. It's also very clear, however, that Dae-ho would 100000% have paired up with him, so why did In-ho need to take him specifically? Well, he knows there's not being enough rooms for everyone. So he knew he would probably have to kill someone and this also makes sure Gi-hun doesn't see this side of him and cause tension/distrust early on. (He saw his reaction with Sang-woo and the glass bridge remember)

X O

He originally votes to continue the game, telling Gi-hun that he did it because of him. This really is a double blow, because he's basically shifting the blame of the games continuing onto Gi-hun. If he hadn't been there to give faith to "Young-il", he possibly would've voted X and this set of games would have ended. But he's also, once again, makes Gi-hun believe he has the power to make change and help people. The tone in which he speaks to him, whilst also being a bit told off, makes him come across as meek and clueless i.e. harmless. He does this alot in front of Gi-hun, the amount of times he apologises and says he must've misunderstood or didn't know adds to this.

The second time he votes, he changes to X. And, again, says it's because of Gi-hun. Repeating the same steps as before backwards, but getting the exact same result. Gi-huns ego is boosted (literally showing he can change O's minds) and appearing powerless as a follower.

Late night talking

Narratively, I love this scene, we get to hear directly from In-ho his motivations for going into the first game. But we also get to see how messed up he is that he's lying about something so deep and personal. Using it as a way to get closer to Gi-hun, appearing to let his guard down, I honestly think In-ho needed that conversation as he seemed to have disappeared to Jun-ho before he could properly grieve and process. Then again there's a gap in his history that we as the audience do not know about. After he won and before becoming the Front Man (I'll probably make another post on my theories for S3) In terms of Gi-hun this conversation is probably the one which solidifies his trust in 001 as he's showing he does care about someone so much he is willing to risk his life and ensure others death. The reasoning mirroring Gi-huns in the first series, they are one and the same in that aspect. But it's so evil because In-ho knows all this and uses their shared grief against him.

"We'll have to hope more of the other side died"

After the Mingle game, Gi-hun suggests counting how many people are left on each side, and In-ho responds with "We'll have to hope more people from the other side died". This instantly made me think of the scene in the first season where Ji-Yeong is mock praying that they can send more people to their deaths for their own survival. This is so on the nose that I'm surprised Gi-hun didn't pick up what In-ho was putting down. He's slowly drip-feeding into Gi-hun that he's thinking the exact way the hosts want them to. Us vs. them as opposed to us vs. the machine, which is a direct link to when the frontman tells Gi-hun that the games won't change unless the world does. He's also got a slight smirk in his eyes which is essentially him internally going "I told ya so"

"Is that really what you want?

Before the third vote Gi-hun & co are discussing how to make sure they win the vote. Whilst Gi-hun wants to go over to try and persuade them to change from O to X, In-ho says "If we provoke them now, we may end up in a big fight before we even get to vote. Is that what you want Gi-hun"

And then after the tied vote and during the conversation of The Plan™ Gi-hun asks "Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive? Is that what you want Young-il?"

This is so ironic because they're saying the exact same thing back to each other "Are you sure you want to fight?" Which has sooo many layers. Yes, they're talking about the players being split into X vs. O but what Gi-hun doesn't realise yet is that he is the O (player) and In-ho is the X (host). As In-ho says as the frontman, the games only work if there are players. And the games stop if there's no one to host (If society changes and there's no wealth disparity making VIPs obsolete).

And that's just the literal meaning of what they've said. The fact that this is the first time Gi-hun has repeated In-hos' behaviour, in a somewhat catty way and not in an "I'm just like you, you should trust me" way. It still shows how similar the two are. I think this is why people theorise that Gi-hun will be the next front man. I think the point is that during the rebellion, he already is the frontman, just to the players following his orders.

Also, can I just add the cinematography of the beam separating the two is *chefs kiss*

Repeating Jung-bae

So we all saw the jealous look In-ho had when listening in to Gi-hun and Jung-baes conversation. I, actually, think he saw it as another way to toy with Gi-hun later on as we see. In the conversation with Jung-bae they're laughing about how much of a cheapskate Gi-hun was when they were friends. In-ho is in a totally non 457 way showing he can be the same as his best friend, but with it being such a common thing to say, if this wasn't a show it'd be something to easily overlook. With it being a show, I cannot overlook the parallel.

Rebellion things

Smaller things I noticed:

When discussing the special game he only said "you" instead of "we" - "How are you going to get the guns" etc.

Until he says "Small sacrifice for the greater good? In that case, I'm with you" - Further pointing out how similar they have become.

He didn't shoot the guards when they were in the stairwell/corridor unless he was speaking. Possibly to cover up the fact he wasn't shooting - Was he saving ammo? Doubt it - Says he's nearly out of ammo without checking - Not wanting to be hit in the crossfire? Maybe

Saving Gi-hun

So he saves Gi-hun twice, once when he's about to be shot and again when he shoots Jung-bae instead. I don't believe this is just because he's grown fond of him but because, as Gi-hun said in the limo, the games are so much more entertaining for the VIPs with him in. Unfortunately, I have to speculate that him being in there has caused more money to be donated by the VIPs, further upholding the games. The reality is Gi-hun was never going to be killed. He has plot armour both for us and the VIPs watching.

The final fuckery from In-ho as Young-il is the "Are you sure" with the most suspicious look on his face. People kept saying that that was the ammo that shot Jung-bae, but it wasn't, it wasn't even the same gun. It was really the last of the ammo they had, and giving it to In-ho was just leaving them defenceless, being the catalyst to the retreat and end of Jung-baes life.

Other sass

Joking about the umbrella dalgona as if he wasn't watching

"Besides, we've got a previous winner with us" as if he wasn't also a winner

Making dad jokes about his name

Disappearing in mingle to reenforce to Gi-hun that he cares about his wellbeing

unrelated note: people saying why would he kill his own guards, as we see with no-eul, they're seen the same as the players. (trash) he doesn't care about them either

[teruwasright]

Ok I'm finally gonna post on my gut feelings about the next chps (including this months one)

Ok I know it's a scratch BUT I have a tiny gut feeling Teru's gonna make another appearance- again I KNOW this is a stretch and I'm not betting on it BUT I'm gonna post it anyway JUST IN CASE IM RIGHT.

I have a tiny gut feeling Teru might appear again to make sure Nene doesn't fail-

I know that the sunflower trio is definitely cooked BUT it could be possible that what Teru did to The Red House could give them an opportunity to get out and meet up with Nene-

Or at least one of them- and it could be Teru...

The grief and anger he's feeling rn has resulted in VERY intense power outputs from him- we've NEVER seen this kind of output from Teru and it's INSANE.

Teru has no reason to hold back rn bc if he does he quite literally has EVERYTHING to lose- he made sure Nene got out of there and that definitely could be as far as his help goes (bc again I know this is a stretch)

But if this kind of output continues from him I wouldn't be surprised at all if we see him come and help Nene bc if she fails Teru loses EVERYTHING...they all do but with his recent lose he's graving the absolute most rn and that could turn into his greatest motivation to make sure Nene succeeds.

Another point is Nene is absolutely defenseless rn...Nene has shown to handle herself well on her own but against The Red House? Absolutely not...I'm 100% curtain that The Red House is gonna follow her to the School more specifically Tsukasa.

Tsukasa is ABSOLUTELY gonna make an appearance again probably honestly this chp-

Tsukasa said he wanted to see Nene again he can absolutely go to the School (ty random person on TikTok for pointing out Tsukasa said he wanted to see Nene again 🙏)

I definitely think Tsukasa is going to make an appearance in the School (definitely the most likely)

But what about some other little things that could happen?

Like maybe him?

He's our last lead with Amane- Nene still needs to know what happened to Amane and Tsukasa to try and figure out what changed- that's why they went to The Red House in the first place and OBVIOUSLY she's CAN'T go back there especially after Teru made that last effort to get her out so who better then Tsushigomori?

He's ALWAYS been a supernatural (or at least he died WAYYY long ago) so technically he shouldn't have been messed with by the Clook Keepers at all? And I KNOW everyone says every arc is gonna be his BUT I feel like he's gonna play a role in this arc-

If he still has his library and still has his powers (he's just not a Mystery anymore) then he would be our best shot LITERALLY.

His power and his books weren't talked about a lot and we still know so little about him, his books and more specifically the "Red Books" what are they?

We never got an answer to that question...

I feel like this arc would be perfect for him but I'm not gonna get my hopes up- but I DO feel like it makes sense why he would make an appearance and even maybe play a role in this arc and he quite literally would be the PERFECT lead for what has changed in the current timeline

Another possibility is the broadcasting club-

We haven't seen them at all yet so it could be possible they could make an appearance but I'm not to hopeful about this one-

Idk I'm just posting some speculations before the new chp comes out and am quite literally just brain dumping lmao

Idk what do yall think are some possibilities for the next few chps?

Idk how possible it is but it would be low-key super cool if Nene and Teru teamed up to save this timeline and get the old one back and I think it would be super interesting to see them work together

And as a huge Tsushigomori fan I would absolutely LOVE to see him play a big role in this arc and I feel like this arc of all of the ones we've had makes the most sense for him to play a bigger role

Idk again just speculating so don't try and argue with people in the reblogs plz- and no saying "that will never happen" either bc it's just speculation and it's fun to share ideas of what could happen regardless of how "posable" it is so be nice ok ^^

What are yalls out of the box little ideas that you think might happen? Or would be cool to happen for the next few chps? These are mine so I'm curious what some of yalls are!

[numberonetacostan]

Why is Bomb the only one who knows that she speaks French (or atleast says so)

I do remember seeing a few posts theorising they were friends before II but now it's known there was no before II that doesn't really work (and if they were Bomb would've either been able to call her out on faking or been in on it and honestly would've probably been more involved with Taco in general)

Just thinking why does Bomb out of everyone know she speaks French (and some other words)

Hi there!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for sending in an ask!!! :]

As for Bomb being the only one who knows that she speaks French, I don't think that's actually the case!! When he tells OJ this, he says "OJ... Don't you know? Taco doesn't speak English, only French, and some other words." Him saying "Don't you know?" seems to me to imply that it's something most of the rest of the cast knows, yeah? OJ's the odd one out for not knowing this. You could also read it as Balloon not know either, but again that's only one other cast member, no one else seems to question her lack of understanding.

I think of it as being either one of two things. Some or most of the cast already know, and OJ (+ possibly Balloon) is the odd one out for not knowing/remembering that she doesn't speak English, or Bomb got that knowledge on the spot from the MeLife Neural Network so there would be an explanation as to why Taco doesn't understand, even if she's faking it. Mephone would be the one to have an answer prepared given Taco is his oc, at this point in this show where none of them had broken out of their assigned roles in any way, so he'd think of this answer on the spot and it would automatically be sent to Bomb so he could explain. I am endlessly fascinated by the MeLife Neural Network and what it could do, I really hope it gets explored in the coming content so we can learn more about it!!!

[storiesofaot]

To be honest, what I had in mind when it came to their ages kind of... fluctuated, haha 😂 Everything below 10 would've worked for me, I honestly did not give it too much thought - sorry!!

I see what you mean with Levi probably seeing himself as worthless. Unless Kuchel was the one who might've said something about blood not defining family in the past, or about the circumstances under which someone grows up not defining the worth of a person. And Levi repeats it in the moment (not for Hange but rather for "himself"), unknowingly causing that reaction in Hange. But here I'm just trying to forcibly rearrange stuff in order for it to work, lol!

I love the idea of the two siblings having one "ticket" to the upper world, and then Kenny being the one who lets Kuchel go there. But later on he sees it as his turn to be the "first one", to profit from the tea set. Those obligations are I guess also the reason why he "takes care" of Levi (in a shitty way, lol).

Alright, sooo... we have Kenny giving away Kuchel and Levi through the tea set, then Kuchel and Levi being brought back to the Underground by the company. Kuchel dies, the company leaves Levi to die alone as well. Kenny finds him and "adopts" him, (Levi would be aware that Kenny's his uncle?) but at some point either Levi walks away, or Kenny walks away and they are separated. Levi makes it to the surface somehow, then at some point meets Hange who is keeping a low profile since, which he doesn't know at that time, she's the child of the family who once brought him into that "pit." They have unknowingly already in the past when they were children during that key moment. After exchanging "informations," lol, they go on a Sherlock Holmes & Dr. Watson quest to retrieve that tea set, setting off into unknown territory, with Levi hoping to find out why exactly his mother died and about his past. Hange joins him, even though it is very risky for her, because she sees it as her chance to break free from her family? To make things right? At some point, Levi finds out about Hange's "real" identity, and he's hurt. But then, as Hange reveals that they have met before, he remembers how that child made him feel back then, and slowly the trust is rebuilt. A big final showdown with Hange having a wonderful family reunion, and Levi coming to "closure" with his past.

.... does this make sense? Did I mix it all up? 😆 It is a mess, yes, but a beautiful mess! 😂

I don't want to repost the piece of art, so here's a link to it.

But I love that drawing SO much: it's giving antique dealer Hange x antique-stuff-loving Levi vibes, who's trying to find an old porcelain cup just like the one that belonged to his mother or something like that 😭 I know, that's not even a trope but still, now I want this so bad!!

[royalarchivist]

Bad: I don’t think people understand the effect QSMP had on some of the streamers in terms of like… The real raw mental impact, so I’m gonna set the stage for you. [...] Imagine that you were given a friend to play Minecraft with — like your best friend — BUT if this person dies, if they die in the game, you never get to talk to them again. Can you imagine what that’s like?

Bad: If you did not live through the QSMP, if you did not live through that, it almost sounds like, crazy. But I don’t think people realize how much of a joyous experience the Eggs were. They were SO awesome! They were literally so awesome to just hang out with and spend time with.

Bad: I’m not saying I regret it. To this day, I loved the experience. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Even knowing how everything went, I would still do it all over again. [...] I would still do it all over again, because — even knowing like, all the trauma and suffering and stuff like that — because it was just… It was just that fun, it was just that fun.

Earlier today during his stream, Bad shared his experience and thoughts about the Eggs and the significant emotional (and traumatic) impact they had on him and his fellow QSMP members.

This clip a very edited-down version since his commentary was ~13 minutes long, so I highly recommend checking out Bad's VOD if you have the time. (Timestamp: 47:36 - 1:00:14)

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

———

Bad: To be fair Chat, I really think the QSMP... I don't think anyone really can relate to it, Chat. It's something that's so... I've told people this before, like– but it's hard to understand. Right? Like...

Where was I? Sorry Chat, I'm losing my train of thought. Look, let me explain Chat– here's the dealio, ok? Here's the dealio, and this is what I mean when I say like, it's important to keep this in mind, Chat. Ok? It's important to keep this in mind:

I don’t think people understand the effect that the QSMP had on like, some of the streamers, in terms of like… The real raw mental impact, so I’m gonna set the stage for you. This is the analogy I’ve given to every person who I’ve like, shared this with. Imagine you meet somebody– [He hears a strange noise] What the fudge was that? Did you hear that?

Anyway– Chip! The story I was just relaying to Chat, Chip, was this: I was sharing this story with them, I said–  I was giving them an analogy. 

Imagine Chat, for example, imagine that you were… playing Minecraft, with like– you were given a friend to play Minecraft with, Chat, like your best friend, and [unintelligible] were like, “Hey, you get to play Minecraft with this person, right? BUT if this person dies – they’re currently your best friend, Chip – but if they die in the game, you never get to talk to them again. Ever again.” Can you imagine what that’s like, Chip?

I don’t think a lot of people understand like, what that does, right? I’m not gonna say that like, it creates this situation, Chip, that like, messes with your head, but it– Chip – but it totally, totally does, Chip. It messes with your head! It literally puts you in a position where you’re second-guessing and thinking about everything, Chip! You’re thinking about EVERYTHING Chip! Ok? And that’s the problem, Chip– is you turn into a paranoid monster because of it, Chip! Like, you don’t understand Chip– I was- I was so afraid of every dirt block, I used to carry a shovel with me Chip, and I would specifically right-click dirt blocks that looked suspicious because mines, Chip– mines could not be shoveled! Like, I was crazy, Chip! But here’s the problem, Chip: that craziness is still there. I’m genuinely like–

I remember thinking Chip, that I would one day– I was like, “I’m going to move past–” here, let’s go up here, Chip. I remember thinking one day Chip, I was like, “I’m gonna move past the underground base, one of these days. You know, one of these days, I feel like I’ll be able to grow and achieve the desire to build a base that doesn’t have to be underground.” But I don’t think it’s possible now Chip, because I think… I just don’t know. I feel like the paranoia– there’s still like, residual leftover trauma from that situation, Chip.

But here’s the problem Chip: I don’t think I don’t think– I don’t think people understand it. Like, I just really don’t. But I also don’t blame them Chip, ‘cuz I don’t think it’s possible to fully understand it if you haven’t lived through it. Like, if you did not live through the QSMP… I’m talking about the QSMP, I don’t- I don’t know if that was obvious– if you did not live through that, it almost sounds like, crazy. But I don’t think people realize how much of a joyous experience like, the Eggs were. Right? I don’t think people realize it. Like, they were SO awesome! They were literally so awesome to just hang out with and spend time with, Chip. So, it’s just one of those things that–

[He’s interrupted by a loud rumble of thunder above them]

Did lightning just strike here? Is it thunderstorming out…? But anyway, Chip. That’s the food for thought.

But that’s the problem– Like, every time it rains in Minecraft, I have to like, look at the sky, and I get this weird, like, second--hand vibe because of the trauma. The trauma, Chip! The trauma is real! But that’s the point– I’m not saying I regret it. I, to this day Chip, I loved the experience. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Even knowing how everything went, I would still do it all over again. 

[He falls down] Dangit, don’t come over here Chip, ‘cuz I’m coming back up! Ok.

I would still do it all over again, because — even knowing like, all the trauma and suffering  and stuff like that — because it was just… It was just that fun, Chip, it was just that fun. I really wi– I don’t think it’s ever gonna be possible, Chip, to give people that same energy, like that same experience. You know what I mean, Chip? I don’t think it’s ever gonna be possible again. Like, EVER.

Because… because like, one: I will say on one level Chip, I will say on one level, like– it’s sort of emotionally like… It’s emotionally devastating, and I think to actually go through that– and this is where like, if I ever do end up going to a– see a therapist, if I ever do end up going to see a therapist at any point, I’ll talk it over with them and be like, “Hey, what do you think about this?” Because I genuinely think on one level, like– it’s created this fear of forming attachments because of like, how things can go. You know what I mean? Like, the fear of getting attached to something and then potentially losing it. Like, it’s- it’s a genuine thing. I think people forget about that.

Like, at the end of the day, everything was RP, right? On the server. You know what I mean? Like, everything was RP, Chip. BUT at the same point, even though it was RP Chip, it was still like– there the reality of you were still playing like, with another person, and you were still getting that experience, and it felt like you were genuinely attached to someone and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. It was GENUINELY stressful, Chip.

But at the same point, I don’t regret it, and I don’t think it was a bad experience. I’m– 

Sometimes in life Chip, you go through stuff, and maybe you have a certain amount of like, things that like, can happen, that you’re like, “You know what, maybe this wasn’t a good thing that this happened,” but at the same point, you still aren’t necessarily upset about it, because… it’s like growing as a person, right? Here’s the thing Chip; even bad situations, Chip, can lead to an overall good outcome. Like–

Even if you’re going through something bad Chip, just because a bad thing happens doesn’t mean that only bad things have to come from that. That’s one of the things I tell people all the time, Chip, is that if you go through a bad situation, you can learn from it, and you can use your experience to help others. And you can be that– you can be, at the worst-case scenario, you can be someone for other people who are going through that same experience to lean on when they go through that.I think there’s a certain amount of comfort that comes from that; from knowing no matter how bad your situation is, you’re not the only person who’s experienced it. You know what I mean?

[bluenoisen]

Gwen can't bring herself to come to work the day after her first field assignment, but when she does return, she cannot help but see all her cases in a new light. They scare her. They could be real.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Got any trans HCs for the amphibia trio? I love the many different interpretations I've seen from this fandom

I don't know about specific headcanons, I know I'm considering making Anne trans in RiAAU but I haven't decided yet.

In one hand: it would be interesting to think how she deals with her first periods because, well, amphibians don't have those, and Hop Pop assumes she's dying (she doesn't tell anyone else because she's so embarrassed). Not that he tells her that, but it really freaks him out. He thinks she has some sort of internal damage, and it's only after months of research that he finds out about some rare mammalian species, such as a few monkeys and rodents, that experience the same cycle Anne goes through. The whole point of this is that it makes Anne feel even more out-of-place. She doesn't remember her world or her parents, only that she came from "somewhere" (possibly another continent) full of people of her species, and she wonders if things would have been easier if she grew up with her biological family. I mean, surely this would be easier. It just serves as a reminder that she knows nothing about her species, not even its name, and she has no idea of how her biology works or what is good and bad for her or how long she'll live or what changes she'll go through.

.

BUT, on the other hand: Trans Anne. Let's start with the obvious: amphibians don't have penises or vaginas and they reproduce externally, meaning they like... release eggs and sperm in the water and they mix without the involvement of either parent, meaning no one knows what the cultural significance of a "penis" or a "vagina" tends to be in most human cultures. As a literaly 3yo, Anne probably didn't have an extensive understanding of s.ex and gender, and it wasn't like the clothes she showed up with told Hop Pop much. She just knew that, as time went on, she found herself relating more and more to the female frogs of Wartwood, and she almost subconsciously began to refer to herself as a girl. There wasn't any big coming out moment, more like a point in which, after months of ambiguity (this kid kept using different pronouns for herself) she just settled on some good ol' she/her and began picking somewhat girly clothes when Hop Pop took her to the market.

It's not like the concept of trans people doesn't exist in Amphibia, it's just that Anne didn't realize that was her situation until, at least, meeting Marcy, and noticing the differences between them. It's not like either of them had ever seen another human from up close, so they didn't know what to expect anyway. Anne's only encounters with Sasha beforehand had consisted on magical girl swordfighting in the sky and whatnot. Certainly not enough to discuss their unique biology, which is something Marcy is very excited to discuss, since she's never met anyone with her same "condition" before, and she wants to know everything, so she uses her as her little rat lab whenever she has the chance. Even then, since she also lacks all knowledge of human s.exual dimorphism and its cultural implications, she doesn't associate anything about either of their bodies to any specific gender that could possibly be asigned to anyone based on biological feautures. Since Sasha remembers the most from Earth, she's probably the only one who could maybe possibly remeber her mom or the kindergarden teacher saying something about "the difference between boys and girls", but by the point she's in speaking terms with Anne, and by the time she realizes their bodies are different, she doesn't really care.

That's not to say Anne doesn't experience dysphoria or that she never undergoes any kind of physical transition. It was probably around the time her voice started to change during puberty that she realized her case may be kinda unique: neither Marcy nor Sasha's voices have changed that much, she can tell even though she only sees Marcy in person like once every 3 years and all the words she exchanges with Sasha consist of death threats and insults. Plus, there's a clear difference between """male""" and """female""" voiced in frogs too. She doesn't want to sound like a man! She doesn't want to be anything like a man! Men are gross! Sorry Sprig, Hop Pop, but it's true. Men are icky icky yuck yuck and Anne is a girly girl. She doesn't want to turn into Stumpy! Or Buff Loggle! Oh, no, is that her future? She commits the triple mistake of 1) sending a letter to Marcy that same day, 2) knocking on Maddies' door promising her firstborn if she can save her from turning into Stumpy, and 3) she becomes obsessed researching mammalian biology in the archives. Bad decision. Bad bad. She's discovering things to feel dysphoric about she never even knew existed! Did you know mammalian mothers feed their offsprings with "milk" that comes from their "mammary glands"? Did Sasha and Marcy have those? She hates herself a little for checking out Marcy next time she sees her and she realizes that, indeed, in the past years she's grown a pair of those that Anne does NOT have. She notes that both she and Sasha are pretty much hairless. She used to think hair was a normal mammalian trait! That weasel that tries to eat the frogs every winter sure is covered in it!

Maddie shows up to her door with a bunch of new spells to try out, happy to have a willing subject. Most embarrassingly, Marcy starts doing her own research as soon as she gets Anne's letter and sends her all her discoveries, and now Anne feels mortified because Marcy knows about all the bad bad very bad changes she's going through (Marcy, for her part, is just fascinated by the nature of their "condition").

It takes a bit, but after a few very frenzied weeks, Anne comes to understad what's going on: her species had certain level of sexual dimorphism and she just happened to have been born with the supposed "sex" usually associated with "men" as a social category. When Hop Pop finds out, he burst into laughter. Oh, it was THAT all along! Anne made it sound so complicated, but it was just the same things he went through when he was younger, just the other way around ("Say what now Hop Pop?")! A few curses here and there and she won't have to worry about these so called "mammary glands" and "hair" anymore, though in the meantime, as Maddie perfects a human-friendly curse, she gets turned into all sort of different creatures. By the time it's done, she just wants to feel like... herself.

It's true that there are some things about her body that make her feel weird, like they don't quite fit in, but there are others she only worries about because she compared herself to Sasha and Marcy, which wasn't fair to anyone involved. Did she really want to fundamentally change parts of her body because of insecurities she developed last week over a book about lemurs? Then, a second set of fears come in: what will happen when she goes back to her place of origin? Because she does want to find her birth family. Will they recognize her, if they're looking for a boy? Will they think she's lying if she claims to be their daughter? If she changes only a few things but doesn't "go all the way", will people there think she's a freak? Will she ever be able to fit in with those of her species?

Does she really care so much about what other people think? She just wants to be herself. Some of the changes she's been going through are making her feel less like herself and more like she's being turned into a tax collector from Toad Tower. Those things have to go - her voice, for example. And she wants a more femenine silhouette (she may or may not show Maddie photos of young Mrs. Croaker as a reference). She wants a softer face. She's seeing her face changing in the mirror and she doesn't like it. She wants it to stay round and soft, not to grow hard and sharp or big and rough. She's not so sure she wants those "mammary glands". It's not like she ever thought about having kids, and the whole "breastfeeding" thing just seems gross, but after her research, and finding out she could have kids with, I don't know, maybe Marcy one day (a thought that makes her blush), she thinks it may be a good idea. She'll consider it. Maybe later. Her genitalia... well, she's used to what she has now. It already took her like 10 years to fully figure out what it was and how it worked and starting over with a whole new set just feels like too much work (also, the babies, the potential babies with Marcy). Frogs and toads have neither "penises" or "vaginas" so there's not a lot of information, and based on books about lemurs and her own empirical experience, comparing herself to other mammalian species isn't too useful. She'll leave it the way it is. She'll see if there's anything else she wants to change later, or if she wants to go back on something.

Marcy is surprised next time Anne visits Newtopia. In her letters, she described this strange transformation in excruciating detail, but seeing her in person now, holding her face in her hands, all she sees is the same Anne she's always loved.

A few more ideas:

HEADCANON: in Amphibia, two people of the same "s.ex" can reproduce through magic, which means there has to be a concious effort and intent. The external fertilization process there's no such thing as a pregnancy, and there's no such thing as s.ex. All reproduction is intentional, which means there's no need for abortion either. There are processes to destroy fertilized eggs and embryos, but they look completely different from human abortions.

Amphibians may perform acts resembling s.ex for pleasure or fun but they look different from human s.ex and have no relation to reproduction.

Andrias is the only person in Amphibia who knows enough about humans to know how they reproduce (a process he finds repulsive). He never tells Marcy, of course, though once she becomes queen, she finds his secret library and his hidden tomes on "alien biology", some of which talk about humans. He's also the only one who knows humans can have children on accident, and that Anne is the only human in Amphibia who could cause something like that to happen (he reads all of Marcy's correspondence). He knows his daughter is very close to this weird farm girl penpal of hers, and even though she's still a child, he worries for her future and the future of the crown. This new discovery could land the crown in the hands of a dynasty of aliens if he's not careful. Is it weird that he spends so much time worrying about his 12yo daughter getting pregnant from another 12yo? Yes, yes it is, but he already controls every aspect of her life, it's not like he's going to stop at her sexuality, future, real, or imaginary.

Man now that I wrote it all down, I think this option is more compelling than the first. Maybe I WILL go with this one.

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)

aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao

(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[fragmentedblade]

Also, Ruan Mei was the one who lent the Phase Flame to Ratio, wasn't she?