#i mean i guess it could be for anything though

[meowcifer-nails]

There was only one bed.

A and B looked at each other. Of course there would be. B swallowed loudly, glancing at the bed, then back at A.

"So... who gets the bed?"

"Huh? We're not gonna-"

"I mean, it's just us in here and we have the only key so... we don't have to, right?"

"No... no you're right... hahaha... of course, I was just kidding!"

"Well, I mean, I guess we *could* share it? Might as well... not like anything would happen, haha"

"Of course... haha...."

They both got into the bed, very awkwardly trying to keep enough distance not to touch without moving close enough to the edge to risk falling off in their sleep.

"Sooo... how long are we going to keep this up for you reckon?"

"I don't know... kinda funny though, everyone totally bought it, I never thought it'd be so easy to pretend we're into each other... you're such a good actor I kinda got butterflies in my stomach when you faked that proposal in front of everyone. I almost believed you were actually into me"

"Haha yeah! I guess I, uh, really got into character... almost forgot I was acting myself, haha... just kidding!"

"Right! I should learn a thing or two from you. Well... good night!"

They then proceed to try to fall asleep, awkwardly laughing and apologizing whenever they accidentally bump or brush against each other while trying to get comfortable, neither of them actually catching a wink of sleep because they're so nervous for no good reason. After all it's all just an act and they both know it, there's no reason to *misunderstand*. Everything is going just as expected, all those suckers actually fell for it, and once it's all over they'll be laughing their ass off about how easily they got away with it.

Slow burn lovers and pretend-dating trope lovers:

Writer: There Was Only One Bed…

Smut fans: *gasp!!!!!*

Writer: So They Spooned All Night And The Brooding One Allowed Themselves To Feel Vulnerable For The First Time In Years And The Chirpy One Got Some Quality Snuggles

Fluff fans: *GASP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── you, clouds and rain (and the wine on your lips)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my mindy requested something soft and domestic with a slice of spicy tension with hyun and who am i to say no? enjoyyy <33 and let me know your thoughts <3

When shooting your tired boyfriend a message this morning, inviting him over for lunch and a cuddle sesh by the television, the last thing you expected was a power outage. Even though it was still light outside, the sun and its bright rays were obscured by dark and angry clouds that could only mean one thing: rain.

Hyunjin was a fan of rain, loving the silence and how the whole world seemed to slow down and hurry home. He could be as silly as he wanted and nobody would judge him, too busy to remain dry to care about anything else. You, on the other hand, hated rain. It usually ruined all of your plans and kept you stuck inside, depriving you of sunlight and everything you loved. Including seeing your beloved and going on cute dates, holding hands throughout the day while exploring new and exciting places neither has seen before.

And now it ruined another one of your plans because things could never go your way, now, could they?

“I’m so sorry, Hyun.” You sigh, playing around with the food on your plate, absolutely dejected.

Hyunjin shakes his head and tries to hide the smile threatening to stretch across his features, freshly dried hair bouncing with his every move. “You’re sorry for what exactly?”

Thunder interrupts before you can even begin, souring your mood further as Hyunjin reaches for your fork, twirls it around expertly and brings it to your mouth to eat before it gets cold. You’ve worked hard on this pasta, letting it go to waste would be a shame.

“The rain.” You mumble before chewing, pouting. He waits patiently for you to finish before leaning over the table to wipe some sauce that has somehow landed on your chin.

“You can’t control the weather, baby.” He smiles, fondness spilling from his eyes as he watches you reach for your drink. Your apartment was no longer bright, engulfed in this darkness that would fool anyone into believing night was about to set at any moment. Fortunately, you managed to prepare everything before the power went out so at least your lunch date wasn’t completely ruined.

To set the mood and try to lift your spirits, Hyunjin has lit a lone candle between you on the table – a romantic till the end, you’re convinced your boyfriend would shrivel up and die if he couldn’t spoil you somehow.

“Well, I want to control it all to make you happy!” The statement is a bit childish but not far from the truth. For Hyunjin, you would do anything to see that beautiful smile of his lighten up every room. Control the weather, move mountains and even give him the moon which he embodied without even realizing. As bright as he was, Hyunjin was the moon in your eyes, illuminating every dark corner of your world with his ethereal glow that left every passerby in awe.

Breathtakingly beautiful, both from the exterior and from within. There was no other person like him in this universe.

This time, he laughs, eyes turning into two crescent moons as if to prove your previous point. “I’m the happiest as long as I’m with you, no matter the weather, time or place. I thought you knew that?”

You’re aware yet your heart still skips a beat, as it always does whenever he opens his mouth and hits you with such a line. Hyunjin wasn’t shy in the slightest when it came to you and the love that was overflowing out of him. All of it was yours, of course. He could never love another in the way he loved you for as long as he lived.

“Doesn’t matter.” You still shake your head, deciding to be stubborn. “It still ruined our plans. I was looking forward to finishing that show together and now we can’t.”

He takes a sip of his wine, the condensation on the glass proof of the warmth in the apartment. “It’s not like we can’t watch it another time, baby.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t pout.” His bigger hand settles on top of yours on the table, bringing it to his plump lips to plant a lingering kiss on the smooth skin. “I came over to see your beautiful smile and talk each other’s ears off. Don’t make me sad.”

Hyunjin makes a face, dramatizing his sadness and you finally laugh, returning to your meal with newfound vigour. He always managed to make even the gloomiest days happier, and you suspected your boyfriend might actually be an angel in disguise, sent from above to watch over you.

“So,” he starts, happiness radiating off of him at the delicious food, his hand still holding onto yours, “did you finish that new book you were telling me about the other day, yet?”

The rain was hitting your windows heavily, creating a curtain of sorts that kept you and Hyunjin separated from the outside world, protected from all evil in your little love bubble that continued to grow with every moment spent together. Excited, with your whole face lighting up, you stand abruptly and make your way over to plop yourself onto his lap without shame, just so you can snuggle while granting his wish. You were about to talk both of his ears off until he begged you to stop. And knowing Hyunjin, he might actually like that.

Time flies as you’re having fun with your other half, while he listens attentively to your every word, so drawn to you and the way your mouth moves that he can barely look away as he remembers to keep feeding you and himself until both of your plates are empty. If it were up to him, Hyunjin would glue your hands together so you’d never have to be more than a foot apart at all times. But reality is cruel, and spending all your time with your beloved was not socially acceptable – for some reason, you couldn’t make money this way. He really hated capitalism for keeping you away from him.

After a while, you both stand to wash the dishes, with him on your trail and being assigned to drying duty.

You’re laughing together as Hyunjin tells you more stories from work, something that happened the other day at the company, not leaving anything out. He was so honest and open about his feelings that nothing he said surprised you anymore.

Your back is to him as you wash the last glass when you feel strong arms pulling you to a sturdy chest, wrapping around your middle to ground the man as he leans over to hug you with all his might. You smile, genuinely, and rest your head on his shoulder just to plant multiple kisses on his cheek. He giggles, and you quickly shake the water and bubbles off your hands to turn around in his embrace and face him.

“Hi.” You smile, briefly kissing his nose. Thanks to the smaller windows, the kitchen was even darker than your dining room, creating a cosier, more intimate atmosphere one could only dream of basking in. Romantic with a pinch of tension neither could shake off - the pleasant kind.

The rain showed no sign of stopping any time soon so for the time being, you were the only two people in the world.

“Your smile is my favorite.” He’s staring deeply into your eyes, strong hands following the outline of your body downwards to rest on your hips and bring you closer, wanting to make you one. The butterflies start going crazy, flapping their colorful wings against your ribcage in a desperate attempt at being let out, longing to be touched by him just like you were.

Your arms come around his neck, and you’re nose to nose now. “You’re my favorite.”

Hyunjin breaks into a grin, one he can’t contain before closing his eyes and burying his face in the crock of your neck, hugging you close.

“You know what I really want right now?” His voice is low, the vibration against your skin sending a shiver down your spine as his hold on you tightens.

You shake your head, one of your hands moving to tangle into his hair and massage his scalp. “Tell me, so I can make it happen.”

He chuckles, thumbs drawing random shapes on your sides you could make out if concentrating on anything else other than his voice was possible. “You don’t even know what I want to ask for yet.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You respond a little too quickly, tenderly coaxing his head out of hiding just so you could see his eyes again and marvel at their beauty. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“Anything?” Hyunjin leans closer, trapping your body between him and the sink as he towers over you, few strands of his hair tickling your forehead. Your breath catches in your throat and you try shallowing, anything to get rid of this sudden lump that’s preventing the oxygen from reaching your brain.

When you nod, his eyes soften, warm hand sneaking beneath your shirt to feel skin, needing this contact to remind himself you are real and the possibility of you disappearing right before his very eyes were slim.

Then, without waiting for his next line, your hand grasps at his fluffy sweater and yanks him forward to connect your lips in a sweet kiss, one that has you both releasing a relieved breath, that acts like the lifeline you need to cling to, to survive.

His lips are soft and warm, and you can faintly taste the wine he indulged in, lingering on his skin. The hand that isn’t under your shirt finds solace at the back of your neck, gingerly deepening the kiss as thunder strikes once again. Not like you care anymore; not when he’s kissing you like he’s trying to burn to memory every nook and cranny of your physical existence.

Heads tilted, his tongue sneaks in to greet yours for the briefest moment before Hyunjin pulls away with great difficulty, chest heaving as he struggles to regain his composure.

“A blanket fort.” He almost croaks out, voice raspy and heart very much disappointed when he tears himself away from you to make some room.

You blink, confused and a little dazed, hands darting to latch themselves onto his sweatshirt so he won’t go too far. “What?”

With a laugh, he throws his head back for a moment, calming down before clarifying. “I want to build a blanket fort. Since the power isn’t back yet, I thought we could have some fun doing that.”

You’re bamboozled, almost spinning around in search of the hidden camera that will confirm this is all a prank.

“But I thought…” You trail off, arms falling to your sides as you look down in embarrassment.

Hyunjin is quick to raise your head, with a finger under your chin and another dazzling smile. “Didn’t you just say you’d do anything for me?”

What a fucking tease. How were you ever supposed to say no to that smile?

[swappermanent]

Gym Crush (Part 2)

Read Part 1 by @exploratorytfs.

It’s been a year and a half since the swap, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about how crazy it all was. You might be wondering—why would I trade the life I had? I mean, I had it pretty damn good.

Before all this, I was hot. Not just passable, but the kind of hot that turned heads. I had worked my ass off to look the way I did—hours at the gym, eating clean, all of it. And then there was Edgar. God, Edgar. This dude was a walking Greek statue: broad shoulders, a thick chest, veins for days. I mean, it wasn’t just the muscles; it was the way he carried himself. Confidence, swagger, like he knew he could get whatever he wanted. And yeah, I guess at the time, he was my boyfriend.

But even with all of that—being hot, dating a hunk like Edgar—I just couldn’t do it anymore.

You’re probably thinking I’m nuts. I mean, guys like Edgar don’t come around often, especially not for guys like me. Let’s be real, most dudes who look like him wouldn’t even give a trans guy like me the time of day. So, yeah, I was lucky. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I should’ve been happy, but the truth is... I wasn’t.

Why? Well, Edgar. He wanted me to be this perfect, submissive, fem bottom. And look, I’ve got nothing against that. There are guys out there who rock that vibe, who own it, and good for them. That’s just not who I am.

I know, I know—saying this out loud would probably get me canceled in half the gay bars across the country. But I really am masc for masc. Always have been. I’m not saying it to be some sort of gatekeeper or anything; it’s just... that’s what I’ve always wanted for myself.

And it’s not just about who I’m attracted to—it’s about me, too. My whole life, I’ve been trying to prove I’m man enough. To the world. To other guys. Hell, even to myself.

Transitioning was the first step, obviously. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to look the part, you know? That’s why I inked myself up. And the gym was my second home, but even after countless hours of sweat and dedication, I could never quite bulk up. No matter how much protein I shoved down or how hard I lifted, my frame stayed twinky.

Don’t get me wrong—there were plenty of guys who loved me for it. I mean, twinks are kind of a whole thing, right? A lot of guys would’ve killed to look like I did, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t feel like me. I didn’t just want to be a guy; I wanted to be a man. The kind of man Edgar was.

And Edgar... he didn’t see me that way. Sure, he’d call me hot, touch me like he couldn’t get enough, but then he’d taunt me. He’d weaponize my body. Every time he called me “pussy boy” or made some comment about how he was more of a man than I was, it chipped away at me. He might’ve thought it was playful, but to me it was cruel. And I couldn’t take it anymore.

Initially, I thought if I just stuck it out, maybe things would change. Maybe he’d see me differently, respect me more. He didn’t. My self-esteem tanked. I started dreading the time we spent together, and eventually, I just... stopped putting out.

And of course, that’s when things really fell apart. Edgar doesn’t do well with rejection—big shocker, right? So yeah, I wasn’t exactly surprised when Edgar came sliding back into my DMs after. But honestly, I wasn’t planning on responding. I’d already been down that road, and I’d told myself after the last time—no more.

Still, when I saw what he was pitching, I couldn’t help but be curious. Swapping bodies with a cis guy? At first, I rolled my eyes. Like, thats even possible. But the more I thought about it, the more curious I got.

The guy Edgar had in mind? Not exactly a stunner. When Edgar sent me his photo, I remember staring at it for way longer than I should’ve, trying to pick out anything redeeming. The dude was... average. A little too soft in the face, a little too plain. But, to be fair, there was some potential there. Barely.

His eyes were nice, though—kind of soulful, in a way that made you think he might be a good guy deep down. And the kicker? He was taller than me by a good 6  inches. That alone had my interest. But let’s not kid ourselves; the real selling point was the fact that he had a cock.

That was the dream, wasn’t it? My own cock. I’d spent years dealing with the disappointment of not being able to fully live out the life I wanted. Transitioning had given me so much, but this? This was the missing piece. In this kid’s body, I could finally live out the fantasy that had been sitting in the back of my mind for years.

I could be the top I’d always wanted to be. I could take guys home, pin them down, and breed them with my own cock and fill them with my own cum. No more strap-ons, no more awkward positioning—just me, fully in charge, giving them EVERY. SINGLE. INCH.

Maybe with a little muscle here, a little polish there, I could make it something great.

So I said yes.

I’m not gonna lie—the first year in this body wasn’t easy. Adjusting to a new frame, new habits, new... everything? Yeah, it was a grind. But if there’s one thing I’ve always had, it’s work ethic. Between that and this body’s naturally high testosterone—and okay, yeah, I might’ve dipped into some steroids here and there—I’d say I built myself up pretty damn good.

Look at me now. I run my own training service. I mean, it’s not like I’m the most skilled coach out there or anything. But honestly? That doesn’t seem to matter much. Guys line up for my programs, and we all know why. They don’t just want my advice—they want to look like me. I’m walking inspiration. Living proof that the dream is achievable, or at least that’s how they see it.

And man, the way people treat me now? Everyone’s calling me “bro” or “dude” every other sentence. Not that they didn’t before—I’ve always leaned into that vibe—but there’s something about hearing it now that hits different. Maybe it’s the weight of my cock swinging in my shorts as they say it. It’s like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Everything just feels... right.

And the best part? This manhood of mine? Oh, it’s gotten around.

I mean, come on. Looking like this, how could it not? Guys want me. They crave me. They crave my fleshy, thick, no kidding, natural, beer can of a cock throbbing inside of them.They’ll do whatever it takes to get a night with me, and honestly, who could blame them?

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | is it true?

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT/ISITTRUE [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | series | [one-shot] | blurb | head-cannons | ask 　　﹂ … | if-im-there | happy-birthday | [is-it-true]

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩��� 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

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summary: Always stubborn, Noah refuses to take a break when he's sick, but everyone's convinced you can persuade him.

content tags: fluff, like a smidge of angst, slight miscommunication.

word count: 3.1k.

note: I started this in September and have been thinking about it ever since so it was about time I finished it 🖤

All the text from Jolly said was, “Hey, can you come down to the studio?” And the first thing you hear as you approach the door is raised voices. 

“You tell him!”

“Tell who what?” You ask, entering into the chaos as the hum of noise is reduced to silence and every face in the room turns to look at you.

“Tell Noah he needs to stop pushing himself and go home and rest in bed,” Matt is the first to speak up.

"I don't need to fucking rest," Noah sighs, rubbing his brow.

"And why do I need to tell him that?" You ask.

"She doesn't need to tell me anything!"

"Noah, you're going to make things worse,” Jolly stands with his arms folded like an impatient father.

“Make what worse? What’s going on?” You look between the men in the room, searching each of their faces for answers.

“He’s sick, but he keeps pushing himself even though he can’t sing properly right now. He needs to go get some fucking rest at home or he’ll fuck up his voice!” Jolly explains.

“It’s fine!” Noah protests from his desk chair. Though he was only half facing you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish pallor to his skin. “If I need to re-record it, I will, but it’s fine right now,” he continues, and you can hear the hoarseness in his voice. Matt pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair in frustration, then replaces the hat back on his head with a sigh.

“Noah, you’re not going to be able to re-record anything if you lose your fucking voice,” Jolly turns to you and states your name firmly. “Tell him.”

“Again, why do I need to tell him? Why would he listen to me if he’s not listening to you?" You know they’re right, but he’s stubborn; you don’t understand what would make your instructions different.

“He'll listen to you because he's fucking in love with you!" Matt shouts.

It was like the air suddenly became thick, and nobody says a word more as your eyes widen and flick straight to Matt. Then to Noah, where he sits wearing what you guess is the exact same expression as yours. Your eyes lock, and you can feel the panic radiating from him. Just as you’re about to speak, the question on the tip of your tongue goes left unsaid as Noah abruptly stands and shoulders his way past the other men. “Noah,” you try, but he’s steadfast in his pace; his shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and not once does he look back.

You watch as his silhouette grows smaller through the window in the door, watching even as he disappears around the corner and out of view. You only turn when Matt calls your name quietly.

"What the fuck was that about?" you all but shout. The men shuffle awkwardly on their feet and struggle to meet your eyes.

"He's sick and losing his voice, but he keeps pushing anyway. We kept telling him to go back home and rest, but he wouldn't listen." Jolly tries to avoid the question.

"Yeah, I get that,” you cast a glance at him. “What did you mean?" You ask Matt directly.

"What?" He responds like a deer caught in headlights.

"What did you mean when you said he'd listen to me because..." You couldn't say it; just the thought had your face growing hot.

"Look, Dierkes, you go. We're gonna go talk," Jolly nods at his friend and spins around the desk chair Noah was sitting in, taking the seat for himself at the computer.

Matt enthusiastically makes his exit. Gathering his bags, he all but runs out of the studio, out from under the weight of your gaze. When the door closes behind him, you sit in the chair next to Jolly, and he turns his own chair to face you.

"He's crazy about you," he starts without hesitation. You pick at the leather of the armrest as your heart begins to race. "He talks about you all the time. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't noticed. He's liked you for months."

"You're serious?" You ask, meeting his eyes, which hold nothing but sincerity.

"You can't say you haven't seen it even a little!” He tilts his head and leans back against the chair. “The way he looks at you, he drops everything for you. Always coming to your side whenever some weird guy flirts with you. He hasn't gone on a date in ages because he's waiting for you!" You bite your lip, unwilling to believe what you're hearing, until Jolly says quietly, "I know you feel the same too."

"What?!" you raise your voice automatically, wishing immediately that you didn't when you see him smiling knowingly at you.

"I see the way you look at him too, when he's not looking. You go bright red when he teases you. Just like you are now. You know I see everything.” You press your hands to your cheeks, and they feel like ice compared to the heat from your face. "You should go talk to him. At least convince him to take a fucking week off," he spins around in his chair, waving his hand and going back to the piece he was working on before all this.

You sit frozen to the spot for a moment trying to process what he'd just said. Noah likes you. He likes you back.

Jolly's voice rings in your head as you stand. "He's liked you for months." You head for the door, out of the building, and into your car on autopilot. Taking a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road in the direction of Noah’s house.

The whole way your mind is racing. "He's crazy about you." You had no idea what you were going to say when you got there. "He talks about you all the time... the way he looks at you." You were telling yourself it wasn't true; it couldn't be. The man you've admired and apparently not-so-secretly adored all this time felt the same way? It was crazy. It couldn’t be true. And yet the concept still makes your heart race, and that treacherous heat makes your skin flush.

You find yourself parked outside his house, your car neatly on the drive right next to his. For several minutes, you go back and forth on whether to go in or just leave. The idea of really confronting him about this situation brings you nothing but anxiety, but the fact that he’s unwell and pushing himself so hard, the need to check on him and at least make sure he’s okay, brings you to his front door.

When you knock, there’s no answer. You wonder if he's watching you from the doorbell camera and choosing to ignore you. After knocking again, you decide to just use your key instead, hoping he won’t be too mad.

Inside, you find no signs of life. All the lights downstairs are off, and the house is statically silent as though it were totally empty. You’d think it were empty if not for Noah’s car parked outside.

You finally figure out where he is when you head upstairs and see the glow of purple LEDs leak from underneath his bedroom door. Your hand hesitates in a fist before you pluck up the courage to knock. No response. You knock a little louder, but still, no response.

Pushing the slightly ajar door open, you peek into his room, finding him lying in bed. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. You can’t help but smile at the peaceful sight. He must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly and deeply. You back out of his room and close the door softly, treading lightly as you go back down the stairs to the kitchen. 

You jump up to sit on the counter and rest your head back against the upper cabinets, closing your eyes. How could you be in this situation? You were content to never tell Noah about your feelings for him, and never ever did you expect your feelings to be reciprocated. You’re still convinced this is all some joke or a misunderstanding. He ran from that studio because he was humiliated by the thought of liking you. There’s no way Noah could want you the way you want him. But after what Matt and Jolly said, you’ll never be content until you know the truth. Even if he denies it, you still have the chance to salvage this friendship that’s so dear to you. He doesn’t know how you feel. It’s not too late to save this, and if he confesses... Shaking your head, you can’t even entertain that thought.

To distract yourself from the feeling of impending doom and to make yourself useful, you decide to cook. Pulling your phone from your pocket, a quick Google search suggests chicken noodle soup as a good option for someone who’s unwell. Warm, high in protein, easy to digest. You slide from the counter to rummage through the kitchen, mentally thanking whoever went grocery shopping recently for having everything you need for the simple recipe.

Following the instructions on your phone, you work quickly, having the food prepared in just over thirty minutes. After preparing a serving in a bowl and buttering some bread too, you balance both on a plate, almost forgetting the spoon before you go carefully back up the stairs.

You weren’t expecting him to be awake yet, but when you knock, he answers.

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and quiet even through the door.

"It's me," you say.

There's a brief moment of silence that has anxiety clawing at your throat before he replies, "Go away."

"Noah, please. I just-"

"Just go away," he rasped louder. "I don't wanna talk."

You sigh, feeling the urge to run, but you suppress it. "But I made you soup," you try, but he says nothing. "Can I at least come in and leave this for you?" Again, no response. You can’t help but sigh quietly. He can be stubborn as a bull at times. "I'm coming in. You better be decent," you try to joke. Once more, no response.

You toe the door open gently, stepping into the dim room to find Noah now rolled over in bed, his back to you, still cocooned in the blanket. Moving over some of the items on his desk—a coaster, a book with a dollar bill sticking out as a bookmark, a half-empty bottle of water, the TV remote—you set the food down. Seeing his phone next to him on the mattress, you take it and check the charge, 12%, and a text from Matt that read, “I’m sorry man.” You crouch down by the bed and put it on to charge, then replace it next to him on the mattress.

You stay there for a moment. Internally warring with yourself on whether you were really about to broach this topic. Ultimately, you decide you just have to know the truth.

"Noah, I know you don't wanna talk, but-"

"Good. Go then," his coarse words sting. True or not, sick or not, he had no right to snap like that. 

"Stop being so fucking harsh with me. I didn't have to come here for you, I didn't have to spend time in your kitchen making food for you, but I did. The least you could do is say thank you.” You wait for him to respond, waiting for an apology, but he says nothing.

The urge to run like Matt ran from the studio was strong; your legs flex under you, and you almost stand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. More so, you don’t want to leave him when he's unwell.

"What they said back there," biting the bullet, your voice is quieter now. "Is it true?"

You didn't expect him to answer, what with his commitment to silence. So when that silence stretched on, you resigned yourself to his will. Standing and heading for the door, hand on the handle, you're stopped by his voice, "That's not how I wanted you to find out."

You pause, waiting to see if he'd continue, but he goes quiet again. "So, it is true?" But he returns to his silence. You go back over to his bed, crouching down again. "Will you talk to me? Please."

Noah doesn’t yield.

"I'm not mad or upset. I just want-" You cut yourself off, struggling to say the words out loud. "Jolly told me he sees the way you look at me, how you go out of your way to do things for me and talk about me all the time," he curls in on himself a little tighter under the blanket, hiding from your words. "He also said... how he sees the way I look at you when you're not looking... and how flustered I get when you tease me..." you trail off. Feeling your heart hammering so hard inside your chest that you can hear it in your ears. You honestly can't believe you just said that out loud.

Noah shifts under the blanket, straightening his legs and rolling onto his back, arm over his face, obscuring his eyes. "You're just saying that," he mumbles.

"Noah, I'm here in your room with homemade chicken noodle soup, even after you told me a million times to leave. Who else would I do that for?"

"You'd do it for Nicholas."

"I would not let Nicholas talk to me like that and walk away unscathed."

He laughs, rubs his eyes, and moves his arm, finally looking at you. He has a despondent expression on his face, but somewhere underneath is a slight smile. You smile softly, happy to finally see his face.

"I'm sorry," he tries, but you shake your head.

"Don't be,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I'd probably freak out too if you found out I love you like that."

"You- What?" He sits up a little straighter.

"Don't make me say it again," you groan and rest your forehead on the mattress.

Feeling the bed move, you look up to see him sitting upright and staring down at you. You move too to sit on the end of his bed. Silence once again fills the room, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say next.

Noah closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Jolly told me so many times to just tell you, but I convinced myself there's no way you felt the same," he confessed.

You almost felt sick from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Looking down at your lap and playing with the sleeves of your hoodie. "Well, I do. He said the same to me too," you let out a bitter laugh. "Seems as though Joakim has been playing cupid." When you look back up, he still seems tense. "Noah, I'm not lying," you hold out your hand to him, which he takes and laces your fingers together. "I was never going to tell you because..." you hesitate again, but it’s too late to turn back now. "I never thought you'd like me back. I thought you'd laugh in my face. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that. It's me who doesn’t deserve you. You're always so kind and generous,” he glances at the bowl of soup. “Even when I really don't deserve it."

"You do deserve it. You deserve kindness because you give so much kindness. Jolly was right, you do so much for me even when you don't need to. You drove me everywhere before I got my car, even when you were busy. Which I felt so fucking guilty for because I knew you had enough on your plate as it was."

"You know, I hated when you got that car," he smiled shyly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted to drive you everywhere, all the time. Whenever you needed. I loved those times when we could just... be alone together," he sighed, not in sadness but in relief. A small smile on his lips.

You don’t think you could handle your heart racing any faster than it already was and decide to change the topic slightly. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Terrible, honestly. My throat is fucked. I don't know how I'm gonna finish recording."

"Yeah, you're not," you state. "You're gonna eat the delicious soup I made you, and you're gonna rest. No recording vocals until you're better. I’d say no producing until you’re better, but I think we’d have to detain you. Lock you in the bathroom or something,” you sadly break your hand apart from his and reach for the food on the side table as he chuckles under his breath. "What's so funny?" You ask.

Shaking his head, he says, "nothing. Just, they really were right, I do listen to you.”

Handing him the bowl, you smile teasingly at him, "because you love me."

"Yeah, I do," he smiles genuinely, caressing your hands briefly as he takes it from you to set it on his lap. "Can you stay?” he asks quietly. “I don't want you to go away. Will you sit with me?"

Your heart warms at his sincerity. “Of course I will.” You climb onto his bed and rest back against the headboard next to him in the space he made. A comfortable, familiar setting you’d both been in numerous times before. He leans over to the side table and tosses the TV remote onto your lap.

“Find something for us,” he says. You press the power button and load up Netflix to scroll through the categories as he eats. “Mm,” he hums with a mouthful of food. “This is so good, I should get sick more often. I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Yeah, don’t you dare,” you smile as you continue to scroll. The options turn into blurs as they pass by on the screen. Your mind was well and truly wandering at the thought of what was going to come next for you and Noah. Were you dating now? Did he even want that right now, or would it take time? These were all questions that would have to be asked and answered tomorrow. For now, you settled with the contentment that your current relationship wasn’t completely ruined and felt thrilled at the prospect of it becoming something more. 

“Oh!” Noah’s exclamation breaks your train of thought. “Remind me to beat the shit out of Matt the next time I see him.”

You break out in a laugh and lean in closer to his side. “Not if I get my hands on him first.”

This fic was inspired by the following randomly generated prompts, from this post!

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. Is it true?” ꒰ L ꒱ relief ꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (28) :　 ⌞⬤ 10 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa | @madamaaubergine @thewrstinme | @amourtoken

⌞⬤ 9 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thecoyotescry | @romanreigns-supreme | @slutforcoffein

@dethroneackerman | @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp @broken0mens

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ @ferduttini | @fadingintothegrey | @lovesick-evangelist @missduffsblog | @anything-more-than-human

⌞◯ 4 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @thisbicc | @sadbitchenergy | @iconic-taurus @queen-foraday

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

[bumblebeem]

But he didn’t recognise Elita-1 when he met her....? “Who is that bot, are they crazy?” or something similar is what he says about her when they meet on the train. I don’t have the movie itself or a script to hand so I'm going off of my memory, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t say anything to suggest they’ve met before.

This is what he says (again, according to my memory, so apologies for any mistakes) about the new shift manager: "We have limited access to the waste management area but the new shift manager there does NOT like distractions. No... No, they prefer we stay here, on the task at hand."

If he had left his work area recently enough to have "met" Elita (even from afar/without speaking to her), he surely should have recognised her on the train, right...? Elita also does not recognise B-127. I'm positive she would have remembered him if they had met and spoken before that point, considering how overly talkative he is - and the way she dismisses him when he introduces himself. If she'd been through that with him before, she wouldn't have been shy about letting him (and the audience!) know, I'm sure.

Whether the new shift manager is actually Elita-1 or not is unknown because she's reassigned to "waste management" (i.e. managing waste). It doesn't necessarily mean she is a manager there, and we also see her alongside other workers loading crates. Is that manager behaviour...? Besides, it makes sense any shift manager in that place would "not like distractions" because one slip-up could bring the Quintessons down on them. The workers there are unknowingly loading those trains with energon (not toxic waste). Even if the shift manager isn't privy to that information, they're probably under pressure from somewhere above to run a tight ship because it would be disastrous if the wrong crates were loaded onto those trains.

As for B-127, I think it's more likely he has overheard somebody else outside of his work area refer to a new shift manager (and the fact they don't like distractions/prefer bots to stay on the task at hand). That could have been as recently as Elita's demotion, or days or weeks ago. For all we know, the shift management position could have a high turnover rate on account of what is actually going on down there. The less bots who know about the energon/toxic waste switch-up, the better for Sentinel, surely.

Anyway, we know Bee didn't speak to anybody because he is pretty clear about his situation: "I just haven't had a lot of company since they put me down here in sublevel 50...", and he states, "sometime between a long time and forever" when Orion asks him how long he has been down there.

My guess is the most company he gets is leaving his designated work station (taking advantage of the "limited access" he has to the waste management area beyond his post), hoping he'll be able to speak to somebody else, only to be immediately redirected.

His emphasis on the "does NOT like distractions" is what is most interesting to me though. Because best case scenario, he's heard those exact words from a couple of bots he's eavesdropped on (desperate for company, but not actually able to participate in the conversation...) and is just regurgitating them verbatim for D-16 and Orion to make it sound like he's clued-in and knowledgeable, or worst case scenario he's had a bad experience at the hands of the "new" shift manager (one who predates Elita's arrival, whether as a worker or a replacement manager depending on what you believe), so he knows through personal experience just how much they do not like distractions, and this is his subtle, light-hearted way of communicating that...

Or it could just be a writing inconsistency, I guess! Maybe a scene got cut, and Bee had met Elita-1 down in the waste management area in a prior draft but they removed the necessary scene and kept that line about the "new shift manager" in anyway.

Otherwise, “new shift manager” is maybe just meant to tell us bots down there don’t last very long and the last one had to be replaced for some reason... Knowing more than they should, perhaps...?

Transformers One (mostly Bumblebee) things I can't stop thinking about.

During the film's opening when Orion Pax falls into a room and onto a table full of energon, he bundles a load of it into his arms and is eating as much as he can until he drops it all and has to keep fleeing.

He's starving. The miners are being underfed as well as overworked.

Additionally, we see Bumblebee has three rations on his person when he offers one up to wake Alpha Trion. This might suggest he's keeping these rations for when he'll need them rather than being able to comfortably feed himself. For the miners it's a scarce resource they have to be careful with, and yet the transformers on the higher levels are enjoying it in abundance.

Bumblebee urging D-16 to "stay down" during Sentinel's attack.

This is an interesting line - if it was a nothing line meant to reflect compassion/empathy, he could have urged Sentinel to stop, or implored the 'bots next to him to take notice and do something. There were other ways to demonstrate "Bumblebee is kind and doesn't want his friend to get hurt."

But he doesn't look to authority or anyone else around him for help on D-16's behalf.

He instead instructs D-16 on how to behave to get the abuse to stop.

Which suggests to me this is learned behaviour, and he's giving advice based on previous experience. He's learned that taking the punishment and letting it happen gets the perpetrator to eventually stop, but resisting and fighting against them keeps it going.

That he was reassigned continually right down into sub-level 50 would tell me he's had more than his fair share of annoying a bigger 'bot enough to get himself knocked around once or twice. And very likely, nobody witnessing the abuse helped him, and/or the authority in the room was the one perpetrating the abuse anyway, so of course they weren't going to step in and help.

The only way out for him has always been to just take it :( So he assumes this will be the quickest/least painful way out for D-16, too.

Bumblebee is as much of a nerd as Orion is.

He knows about the High Guard (and is very excited to recite what he knows about them), he recognises the Primes as soon as they come across them in the cave, he watches the broadcast Orion locates inside Steve's head with interest... It's very subtly done, but I think this is the main shared trait between Orion and Bee. I wish we had seen more of Bumblebee trying to talk to Orion about this shared interest, but I get the main relationship they wanted to portray was that between Orion and D-16 (and really enjoyed that regardless!)

Bumblebee knows how to leave sub-level 50, yet he still goes back to his post, and doesn't appear to be using this escape-time to socialise with anyone else on the other floors he can access since he is so very clearly starved of social contact.

I'm not crying, okay, I'm just imagining this poor little guy sitting out of view watching the other cogless 'bots come and go, knowing he could get into more trouble and be even more isolated if he announces his presence and gets himself caught.

Also his "limited access" to the waste management area, and that thing he says about the main one in charge there preferring that he stays on task and really not liking any distractions... Ugh.

Bumblebee is purposely isolated in that room and there's apparently enough of a deterrent to keep him in it that he is forced to make imaginary friends out of trash to talk to instead.

I'm gonna go insane with grief and rage.

[mirrorcatcreditcard]

Take I haven't seen in the fandom yet:

Luka doesn't want to be freed.

"Now, MirrorCatCreditcard," you may say, "that's nonsense. Any human would want freedom from that system."

If you're thinking I'm gonna convince you that Luka doesn't know he wants freedom yet, you're wrong. I'm here to talk about indoctrination/conditioning, grooming/emotional manipulation, my own experience with those topics, and how all of the above connects with Luka as a character. If a deep dive like this is too much for you, please tap out for your own sake.

Luka's life was planned before he even existed. There has never ever been an alternative option. There is no life for Luka as anything but what Herperu chose. Everything in his life has been planned to have him be the perfect pet human idol. That is what he must be.

Fandom, I don't think most of you actually understand this and have dissected what this means (shout-out to the Luka stans who are getting there/have guessed similar things). These words we know have alternatives and are not set in stone are Luka's "gravity makes rain fall to the earth" and "water makes things wet." They are facts so deeply ingrained within him that even if shown the contrary he remarks that the person showing them is just disillusioned.

Take his commentary on Mizi and Hyun-A in the art book. He looks down on Mizi for not being able to control any of her emotions. How does he talk about Hyun-A? He has her at 70% affection yet shows a patronizing attitude—she's the one in denial at reality.

Now, how did we get here? How is a human so "delusional" and set in the control?

He's been conditioned.

Some of you don't know what I mean by this from experience and/or research, and count yourself fortunate that you don't. I pray you never experience such things firsthand. Don't worry about ignorance. Familiar or not, I will explain.

When you are surrounded by only one truth and reality, that is the way you interpret life. If a parent tells a child "the moon goes to sleep during the day," until the child learns otherwise, that's what they believe. Now take that child-like belief and add some toxic environments to the mix. With time, any other kid would learn that the earth rotates from their peers or adults around them. But if the creatures around them all say and believe the same thing "the moon goes to sleep during the day," then that is what the child continues to believe. Years of that same thing being the only truth make that false knowledge into a fact in the person's head, and everything that supports that fact is taken as truth or on the right path to truth.

"This is kinda silly though," you guys are no doubt murmuring, "All of this is a hypothetical. Give us something that makes sense or that someone could actually see happen in our society."

I'll give you my own experience then. My parents taught me that God is real. My parents taught me that I will be damned I do not follow the commandments of the scriptures. I didn't need to worry though. As long as I was obedient to the God who loved me and wanted what was best, I would be saved despite being born an awful sinful human. I was homeschooled, only interacted with people of similar beliefs, and taught that people too different from me in ideology or with radical beliefs against my own were trying to harm me and my family. I believed the people who raised me because why would people who love me lie to me? My task was simple. I needed to obey God and love everyone, especially them. Love meant giving up my entire being and living only as servant and sacrifice. After all, being selfless to the utmost was the greatest form of love.

Let's go back to Luka. His guardian, Herperu, when questioned about any surprises while training Luka, stated not only that he was the one who endured the "tough moments" but also that "(Luka) owes his success to me, and naturally, he should be grateful." This sentiment is echoed by Luka in his interview (shown on Patreon). My god, it's giving parents with disabled kids who brag on social media about how much trouble their kid is and how much they do for them. Sickening. This shows exactly what environment Luka has lived in though.

When you are manipulated into having something as your reality, everything else is fiction and delusion.

Let's review what exactly is Luka's reality.

Heperu is the one suffering if Luka has any difficulties being obedient.

Gratitude is what Herperu is owed because he goes through so much trouble to make Luka a star.

Love/care is shown by owning another's autonomy.

Emotions and bodily reactions exist, sure, but someone should be able to control them; and if they can't, someone should control those reactions for them.

Segyein are superior and the good ones for dealing with humans. Humans must be disciplined and shaped to how an segyein wants it to act to be considered deserving of this goodness.

(Luka)'s perfection is defined by his guardian.

Luka's life is directly connected to being the perfect performer. His guardian praises his abilities with the statement that no other pet human will ever be as perfect as him yet leaves an underlying threat saying that it will be no good if a pet is not trained properly. This has probably been mentally (if not physically) beaten into Luka's mind: his greatness doesn't stop him from being able to be disposed of. The human instinct to want to live has been explained to him as Heperu's wish for him to live and that has been further distorted as a duty to live for the stage he has been placed on.

Luka believes fully that there is a debt in play here. In his interview, he mentions repaying love. He thinks the relationship between fan and idol is completely normal, encouraged, and healthy. Performance is the most important thing. Being where he is is a privilege.

There's a chain here:

Heperu indoctrinated Luka into believing what he says is all true.

The guardian manipulated him easily to do what he wanted with his body and mind.

The years have been spent constantly conditioning Luka to be the god who encapsulated fantasies for the audience.

He is continually being groomed to exist for the entertainment and enjoyment of segyein.

Circle back to my first point of this post. Luka does not want to be freed. He doesn't know what freedom actually is. He sees freedom as either foolish denials of reality (and doesn't consider that actual freedom) or as controlling the song and stage when he performs (something he learned from Hyuna). He cannot want something he cannot understand. He cannot want freedom in the sense the fandom keeps speaking about.

It's funny. From the moment Luka was revealed to be hated by the fandom, I wanted to know why. Instead of digging and finding horrific deeds, I instead found a character who portrayed my own traumas and experiences. I instantly attached and delved deeply into learning about this thirty year old singer. Why does he express himself in a certain way? Where do we first see mention of him? Who does he have emotions towards? How was he trained? What makes Luka himself? I have past essays/replies to other's theories if you're interested, but in this one I got personal and didn't sugarcoat the facts. If the fandom can't handle deep thought, we shouldn't be discussing this incredibly profound and depth-filled web series.

As always, thank you for your time, and I hope my thoughts allowed you to open your mind to new things. Mostly, I hope you enjoyed them 🫶

[fairylibe]

between us and the moon.

1415 words. angst with some comfort, highly interpretive. based on jude's past records. features: child! jude jazza & kate, victor.

꒰ summary ꒱ kate gives child! jude a hug. some inspiration was taken from this fanart.

(I)

wherever he went, the moon followed.

the moonlight seemed so bright, jude couldn’t help but look down at the concrete.

today as well, the work was grueling.

but when he saw a familiar figure upon pushing the heavy door open, his heart lightened up just a little, and his features softened a tad.

“big brother, you’re home! what took ya so long?”

“took a detour.” jude collapsed on the floor, letting out a sigh.

the person before him tilted their head. “from where? goin’ through the nooks n’ crannies this time o’ night can be dangerous, ya know.”

jude closed his eyes for a moment — when he did, an image flashed in his mind.

“…today was a full moon.”

“hehe, thinkin’ ‘bout our promise? don’t go thinkin’ ‘bout breakin’ it.”

jude showed a small smile.

“…don’t matter if i gotta use money, magic, ya name it. someday, i’ll make it happen.”

——how could he not, when the image in his mind was engraved in his soul so deeply?

indeed, it was so clear, it could probably last ten thousand years.

(II)

“wow, the moon is so big…” as kate walked down the hallway, she looked out the window.

outside, the moon hung from the sky, so full and large she felt she could touch it.

“they say witchcraft’s at its strongest when the moon is at its largest.”

“eek!” kate jumped and turned around, seeing victor standing right behind her. “v-victor! don’t scare me like that!”

“haha, you must’ve been fairly out of it if you didn’t notice. bewitched by the moon tonight?”

“hm? oh, i guess…” kate’s voice trailed off as she looked back out the window.

victor’s gaze followed, his voice remaining lighthearted. “i have a tickling feeling some magic is going to happen tonight.”

kate chuckled as well at his somewhat theatric words. “what, are you holding another magic show?”

“aw, miss kate, could it be you miss my magic shows? you know i’m always happy to show you my tricks.” victor’s eyes were like crescents as he smiled, but then his expression recomposed. “…but i mean a different type of magic this time.”

“a different type?”

the corner of his lips quirked up as he brought his index finger up.

“be careful when opening doors after the clock strikes midnight. if you open the wrong door at the wrong time, i can’t guarantee you will be able to return safely until the next full moon.”

(III)

“▧▧▧▧, ya doin’ okay?”

they laid on the bed — a far cry from the energetic disposition they had just some time before.

now, coughing was a regular occurrence. sometimes, they would shiver as well.

jude held onto their hand, grasping it as tightly as his coarse fingers could.

it was as though he wanted to capture any sign of warmth.

or before that, he wanted to find a semblance of it.

“i’m…sorry…”

their voice came out as a raspy whisper before more coughing resounded in the room. the hand jude held gently held his back in a silent urge for him to relax.

although it did little to ease his mind.

after all, what they had couldn’t be treated without medicine.

and medicine costed money — more money than what he could currently make in a year, he reckoned.

jude clicked his tongue, more so annoyed at himself than anything else. but this only elicited an amused, albeit weak chuckle from his sibling.

“why so hard on yourself?” ▧▧▧▧ lifted jude’s hand, and he let them guide his hand as though they were the moon. “…you’re already like the moon to me. so that’s why…”

“▧▧▧▧…” jude’s voice trailed off, his amethyst eyes becoming more misty as he heard their voice fade into a whisper.

“that’s why…if i can stay by your side…that is more than enough.”

“then i’ll stay by your side,” jude replied, “it’s a promise ‘til the end.”

they gave jude a smile before turning their head to look up at the moon, high above the sky.

“i wonder how far the moon is,” they murmured.

jude didn’t know the answer then.

he eventually did find out —— but only when their voice faded to nothingness.

(IV)

kate couldn’t get victor’s words out of her head.

maybe he was indeed joking, but also…what if he was not? what would happen, then, were she to open a door she shouldn’t have?

sighing while mulling over her own thoughts, she turned the doorknob to her door, eager to plop onto the soft sheets of her bed, when——

“ahhh?!”

opening the door, she was greeted by a blinding light.

so bright…!

it took her a minute to adjust to her surroundings, her eyes slowly presenting her with a sight that looked somewhat familiar, but was also a far cry from her room.

“w-w-w-wha…”

the first thing she saw was a fight breaking out.

or…it wasn’t so much of a fight as it was a child, a boy who couldn’t have passed his teen years, getting beaten by some adults.

what stood out to kate was the amethyst-colored eyes this child had, which seemed to gleam with an unyielding flame of determination, only kindled by the inevitable pain.

what is going on?!

kate was bewildered, for sure, but also, she wanted to help that child as well.

her body moved on her own then.

“stop right there!!”

the child’s eyes widened, but he quickly recomposed himself. it would appear he was accustomed to such situations.

the attackers tried to retaliate, but they didn’t know that kate had a good mentor named roger when it came to the art of self defense.

when the attackers fled (not without spitting on the ground in contempt though), kate turned toward the child.

it was then she noticed his silver hair with black streaks.

“you…”

is this jude?

kate reached out to him to check to see if he was hurt, but the boy slapped her hand away, shooting kate a glare.

“i never asked for your help, ya goody two shoes.”

well, that was more than enough to answer the question that popped into her mind some mere seconds before.

(V)

who knows how much time had passed.

the first few days, kate ran into (child) jude, and he would swat her hand away, glare at her, and run off somewhere she didn’t know.

he kind of reminded her of a cat.

but as a bit more time went on, the two started making small talk.

“how long are you going to eat stale bread?”

“none o’ ya darn business.”

“actually, i think i have very valid concerns about your health, jude——ah.”

kate put her hands over her mouth, but it was too late.

jude looked at her, his brows raised.

“i didn’t tell ya my name. what does that make ya, a stalker?”

“no way!”

and, as a week passed, kate would sometimes find jude sitting on top of some burlap sacks piled on top of one another, looking up at the sky.

usually, his amethyst eyes had some fire in them, but when they looked at the moon, they seemed so dull in comparison. it was like he was deep in thought, but said thoughts weighed down on him, making him look far from a child.

one day — or one night — for the first time perhaps, jude asked kate a question.

“…how far is the moon?”

“…around 385,000 kilometers.” adult you told me at one point, after all.

jude spared kate a side glance before looking back up. “…i see.” after a pause, his next words came out in a murmur. “maybe if i met ya sooner, things would’ve been different.”

somehow, seeing his profile in the darkness, illuminated only by the silver moonlight, made him seem infinitely lonely…

and kate couldn’t help herself as she wrapped her arms around jude.

at first, he stiffened, but he didn’t push her away; he likely didn’t have much vigor to do so at this point.

no words were exchanged between them, but none were needed.

but then, another question seemingly whispered in kate’s ears.

“then, do ya think it’s possible to go to the moon?”

it seemed like a simple question, and yet at the same time so vulnerable for a reason kate didn’t know of.

“yes,” she replied after a pause, “i do.”

“hah, ya sure know how to be a goody two shoes.”

but for the first time since she came to this mysterious world, she felt arms wrap around her back.

fin.

꒰ tag list . ꒱ @drachonia @weepinglycoris @velisle @candiedcoffeedrops @judesmoonbeauty @.comment to be added or removed!

[savanir]

so I got Steve Trevor;

From one highly stressful situation to the next it seems, Steve really wishes his gun didn’t get misplaced.

Especially considering he’s absolutely not where he was less than a minute ago, considering the endless void of… green.

Why is it always green…

“What the fuck” He’s keeping his stance ready for anything while trying to get his bearings at least somewhat, he seems to be surrounded by ruins, somewhat familiar looking ruins.

“You have experience with Pandora’s box, correct?” 

Steve quickly turns around and has his arms loose and ready, slightly up to either defend or attack.

In front of him is a floating… boy?

“Hello” the slightly glowing, black and white clad teen gives him a lazy little wave, cheeky sort. alright then.

“Where the hell am I?”

"Good guess but that's a little more to the left from here"

"What?"

The teen’s expression shifts to something more serious, "Listen, the box got stolen and I need someone with knowledge about the damn thing that can also inconspicuously come with me and isn't bound by dumb ancient rules to help me out with getting it back where it belongs. You came recommended by Pandora so..."

“Are you serious- wait, Pandora as in the Pandora?”

"Yes, Lady Pandora, keeper of the box with the ancient evils or whatever. Of course she knows about you, like I said you have prior experience with dealing with this thing- you are Steven Trevor right? Consort to princess Diana of Themyscira?"

"Consort-" Alright okay so this is really happening, it’s spread to other dimensions now or something? he rubs the bridge of his nose, he could use a good stiff drink to handle this revelation.

"Partner, boyfriend, whatever, listen we need to stay focused here" the teen claps his hands, it actually does effectively grab Steve’s attention back.

"Right, yes that's me. I'm, fuck you're telling me that fucking thing-?"

"Yes, and I could really use a hand here with solving this mess please. Oh uhm, Danny Phantom, nice to meet you.” Danny holds his hand out and Steve gives him a handshake. so the kid knows about the basic typical earth greeting. good to know.

“Now, we got no time to lose, I'll be sure to put you right back where I found you once we're done so no worries"

Well Steve doesn't really want that cause he was in the process of getting kidnapped when he got dragged through a swirling green portal. sadly his attackers confiscated his gun so he’s currently very unarmed but he’d take it if it means he’s not at risk of getting tortured for Justice League intel and used as bait to lure the heroes in. 

"Just drop me off in Washington DC. I'd prefer that"

"Whatever you want bud" Danny grins and leads him towards a different portal in the distance.

Steve figures it’s in his best interest to go along with everything for now but once his comms stop being dead he’ll notify the Justice League immediately. Still though, something in his gut tells him that this kid isn’t bad news. 

He has this weird feeling that Diana would like him.

Use this random DC character wheel to write a dpxdc prompt, fanfic, or blurb below! (Or just say what ya got ehehe)

[fear-is-truth]

Sorry if this is out of character before hand 😔

Anyways!! How do you think Kai would react if he found out !user was pregnant? I know you have one like this already (I think?) but what if they found out it was a girl and not a boy?

Personally I think he’d be pretty pissed that !user wasn’t good enough to conceive a boy or that !user obviously did something wrong. But that’s just me🤷‍♀️

I want to know how you think Kai would react. Sorry if it’s a weird request or if you’ve already done something like this before.

By the way I love all your works and you’ve been uploading so much lately and I love you for that for real🤞

ahhh you’re too kind !! so here’s my take..

kai stands there, arms crossed, expression tense. he’s not furious, but there’s a definite air of disappointment. you can almost feel the energy shift in the room as he stares at the ultrasound screen, jaw clenching. “a girl, huh?” he lets out a slow exhale, rubbing the back of his neck before turning to you with a disgruntled look. “figures.” you blink, unsure of how to respond. “…what’s that supposed to mean?” he just shakes his head, sighing as if the universe has somehow conspired against him. “i guess we’ll have to work with what we’ve got,” he says eventually, glancing at you with a half-hearted smirk. “she’ll have to be as tough as any boy.”

at first, there’s a brief moment of frustration. he has always envisioned raising a son—someone who could follow in his footsteps, take up the mantle, and carry on his ideology with pride. to kai, sons represented strength, power, and legacy. his first instinct is to feel a bit slighted, almost as if the universe had conspired against him.

he doesn’t voice this frustration aloud, though—he’s too self-aware for that. plus he’s not that big of an asshole. instead, he quietly sulks for a while, retreating into his thoughts. this was supposed to be a moment of triumph for him, but there’s no denying that a daughter was never part of the plan.

however, his disappointment quickly turns to a different kind of interest. if there’s one thing kai thrives on, it’s the need to control. and a daughter? well, she would be something entirely different to mold, even if he hadn’t prepared for it. he might have initially imagined her as a liability, but the idea of raising a daughter with the same rigor as he would a son starts to grow on him.

he will insist on the name being gender-neutral or strong with masculine undertones—no feminine names like “lily” or “grace” here. if anything, he might give her a name like “phoenix,” “avery,” “billie” or “taylor”.

when kai first holds his daughter, it’s a totally unexpected reaction. he’s spent so much time convincing himself that this wasn’t what he wanted, that a son was the only option. but when she’s placed in his arms, tiny and fragile, all of those thoughts blur into nothing.

he looks down at her, and despite himself, there’s a tightening in his chest. he hadn’t expected to fall in love so quickly with this new life you’ve created together. it’s not like the way he loves his vision, his plans, or even his movement. it’s the first time in a long time he lets himself feel anything that isn’t centered on you or his own ambition.

he makes it clear that he will raise her to be tough. there’s no coddling in kai’s book. he’ll insist on teaching her discipline, perseverance, and how to manipulate situations in her favour, just as he would a son. she’ll learn to never show weakness, to never bow down.

kai would never ever admit it, but deep down, he’s fiercely protective of her—he will never let her be anyone’s victim. he’ll raise her to be a fighter.

[aventurineswife]

Hi! Im a new anon who stumble upon your work recently. (I love it btw!) Can I request this scenario for the obey me fandom?

Imagine the MC is (or was) married in the human realm. However the brothers realized that the MC’s spouse is VERY attractive (Like if the spouse was Gojo Satoru). How do you think they would react with the news?

A Bit Of Jealousy

Tags: Lucifer x Reader, Mammon x Reader, Leviathan x Reader, Satan x Reader, Asmodeus x Reader, Beelzebub x Reader, Belphegor x Reader, Jealousy, Humor, Lighthearted Fluff, Possessiveness, Insecurity, Self-Doubt, Teasing.

Warnings: Some possessive and teasing behavior, mild jealousy, occasional insecurity (mostly comedic), discussions about past relationships, lighthearted humor.

A/N: HELLO AND WELCOME! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS – I’M GLAD YOU’VE ENJOYED MY WORK! IT REALLY MEANS A LOT!! 🤭💖🫶

Lucifer stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on you, as if contemplating something rather than merely listening. It had been some time since you'd mentioned your past life in the human realm, but this new detail had caught his attention.

"I had no idea your ex-husband was… that handsome." Lucifer’s tone was neutral, but the slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed a flicker of something else.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "It’s not like I married him for his looks," you said, trying to downplay it. "He had other qualities that mattered."

The eldest brother’s expression remained composed, though you could see the tension in his jaw. He was used to being the most capable, the most desired, and the thought that someone else—someone so undeniably attractive—had captured your heart before him stirred a slight discomfort within him.

"You’re saying I wouldn’t have stood a chance?" he asked, his voice dangerously smooth, though a subtle irritation lingered.

You smiled teasingly. "Lucifer, you’re far too full of yourself. Besides, you’re the one I’m with now, aren’t you?"

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and with a possessive gesture, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "You’re lucky I’m still allowing you to be with such an inferior man."

Mammon’s jaw dropped, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "Wait, wait, what? Your ex-husband was that good-looking?!" His face turned a deep shade of red as he paced frantically, tugging at his hair. "How the hell did someone like him end up with ya?!"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your amusement. "Mammon, it wasn't just about looks."

Mammon, the Avatar of Greed, shrank slightly, as if trying to come to terms with the idea that he might not measure up. "Well, The Great Mammon is way better than some human, right?" he muttered, but the lack of his usual bravado made it clear that he was internally battling his insecurities.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You know you're amazing in your own way, Mammon. It’s not about competing with anyone."

He grumbled under his breath, still clearly unsure of himself. "Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll just have to show ya why I’m the better pick."

Leviathan froze, his eyes going wide in disbelief. "Wait, wait—that guy?!" His voice wavered, and his face flushed a deep shade of crimson as he processed the revelation. "You were married to him? That’s like… the ultimate level-up in real life! He must’ve been like some kind of rare, super rare character from a game or something!"

You blinked, surprised by his immediate reaction. "You know who he is?"

Leviathan fidgeted nervously, his excitement quickly mixed with insecurity. "O-of course I know him! He's everywhere, with that... unbeatable vibe, and he’s always so confident. I—I don’t think I could ever be like that..." He looked down, voice cracking slightly. "I mean... why would you marry someone like him when you could’ve had a shy, awkward guy who spends all his time gaming, not that I’d have had a chance or anything..."

You raised an eyebrow. "You think he’s that good-looking?"

Leviathan’s cheeks flushed deep red, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with his game controller as if it were a lifeline. "W-Well, yeah... I mean, how can I compete with that?" He mumbled, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and self-doubt. "He’s like... a living anime character, with that whole ‘cool, untouchable’ vibe... I’m just an otaku, surrounded by figurines and my games!" He sighed, slouching in his seat as his eyes dropped to the floor. "Guess I don’t stand a chance, huh?"

You chuckled and patted his head. "Levi, you have your own charm, don't worry."

He mumbled a soft "thanks," his cheeks still tinged pink, as he returned to his game, likely pondering his own appearance in a whole new light.

Satan raised an eyebrow at the news, his usually calm demeanor remaining composed as he closed his book. "I see," he mused, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "It’s no surprise that someone of his appearance would catch your eye."

You tilted your head. "What does that mean?"

Satan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. "It means that while his appearance may be striking, I’ve always known you to be a bit more discerning when it comes to your tastes." His smile was teasing, but there was something more beneath it.

"Jealous, Satan?" you teased.

He smirked, but his eyes flickered with an almost imperceptible hint of rivalry. "Jealousy implies that I feel threatened." His voice lowered, a bit darker. "But I do wonder if someone like him could match my charm… or my intellect."

You raised an eyebrow. "Planning to challenge him?"

Satan didn’t answer immediately, his smile growing more enigmatic. "Perhaps. It might be amusing to test whether he could truly hold a candle to someone like me."

The moment you mentioned your ex-husband, Asmodeus gasped dramatically, his hands flying to his face. "Oh my goodness, you were married to him?!" His eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and fascination. "Tell me everything! His skincare routine, his hair—how is he so perfect?!" He practically swooned, his voice rising in pitch with every word.

You chuckled, a bit amused by his over-the-top reaction. "I think it's just natural for him." you said, trying to deflect the question.

Asmodeus’s eyes grew wider. "You’re telling me he’s that perfect without even trying?! Oh my, I’m in love with him already!" He threw his head back, letting out a dramatic sigh.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. "You can't just fall for someone based on their looks, Asmo."

He flashed you a playful grin. "Well, darling, you’ve clearly got exquisite taste. But between you and me, I’m still the real star here, aren’t I?"

You laughed again, shaking your head. "You never change."

Beel stared at you for a long moment, clearly trying to process the information. "So… he really was that good-looking?" Beel asked, his voice calm, though there was a note of genuine curiosity in it.

You nodded. "Yeah, he was."

Beel scratched his head thoughtfully. "Well, if you’re with me now, then I guess he must not have been perfect for you." He said it so simply, almost like a statement of fact.

"Exactly," you said, smiling warmly at him. "There’s more to someone than just looks."

Beel smiled back, his expression content. "I’m glad you feel that way."

Belphie barely reacted when you mentioned your ex-husband. His voice remained lazy, but his smirk hinted at his amusement. "So, your ex was that attractive, huh?" He yawned, stretching casually. "Guess he doesn’t compare to me."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you comparing yourself to a human?"

Belphegor’s smirk deepened. "I’m not comparing. Just stating the facts. But if he was that perfect, I’ve got my work cut out for me."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh at his arrogance. "You never change, do you?"

Belphegor stretched out comfortably, flashing you a lazy grin. "Of course not. But in case you forgot, I’m the only one who matters to you now."

[meowcifer-nails]

Mostly agree with this though in the case of Swansea I'll say he had a point in keeping the utility room locked. It's pretty clear he doesn't trust Jimmy from the start though he didn't know what he did yet, I don't think he ever intended to use the pod himself, but he didn't trust Jimmy with knowing about it and making a fair choice. He was likely saving it for Daisuke, possibly split on letting him or Anya use it once he *does* find out (what he says about "giving the kid a chance" to make it off the ship could either be referring to Daisuke or- you know).

I also don't think he *hated* Daisuke, he clearly does not even before the crash. Not justifying the way he acts with him but he obviously puts himself in a paternal role and thinks the whole "tough love act" is for Daisuke's benefit (him getting angry at him when he first tries to get into the vent for example is clearly because he was worried he'd get himself killed more than anything else). I think if anything he resents the company for sending an untrained kid into a situation where said kid could fuck himself up or put others in danger due to negligence.

I'm not saying this to mean he's a saint, getting blasted while first suspecting then fully knowing the man in charge is an irresponsible fuck-up and thus endangering the rest of the crew because neither Daisuke nor Anya can stand up to Jimmy, for starters, was not exactly the best move. But to me he reads less like an uncaring asshole and more so like he's embittered by the situation (only engineer for the ship while knowing the company kept cutting corners, has to be responsible for teaching and keeping safe someone who's untrained and in his eyes unsuited for the job despite his efforts because the company would rather exploit free labor than add another skilled worker, has been working there long enough to know things would only get worse for lower rank crew members like him, from what he said after Curly breaks the news we can guess he already suspected they'd get axed at some point).

I keep seeing posts abt how “the evils of capitalism” is “missing the point” of mouthwashing . you guys Know a game can have more than one theme/message right? You Know the setting was specifically chosen by the devs for the purpose of the story right? Like it’s not just set dressing?

Do you think there would still be a busted vent for someone to get killed in if the company wasn’t maximizing profit over employees? And locks on the cabin doors? Do you think Anya would have had no one else but curly to turn to if the ship wasn’t being run on a skeleton crew, and there were more people onboard? Would Swansea have been able to keep utility off limits as long as he did? Do you think Anya would have reacted the same to her termination news if she had been fairly compensated and did have savings? would Daisuke have been stuck with a mentor who hated his guts if there was more than one engineer on the job? would the psych evaluations have gone over the same if they’d been conducted by a different doctor so Anya could have gotten hers done too? Do you think the injured curly would have been left alone and defenseless in the medical ward if there were more staff? Would he still be laying in his own bloody unchanged bandages? Do you think jimmy would have gotten away with half the shit he did if there was some semblance of employee rights, and no fear of termination or backlash from accusing him?

like guys this is all just off the top of my head. YES the message of “men will cover for their abuser friends until it’s too late for anyone” is prevalent, timely, and important, but the setting is INTEGRAL to what motivates characters and how they react to the story’s events!!! you cannot separate the two!!!!! can anyone hear me !

[ryomaandgundhamkin]

MASM SUN… YOU RUINED ME THIS EPISOde

okay you know what, I know nothing about masm so you can prove me wrong on anything I say, this is JUST based off todays episode.

I FEEL SO BAD FOR MOON NOW. But I’m not too disappointed about the whole thing, because that’s Sun’s choice. But it was so obvious how Moon was trying to prove his love for the first multiple minutes and Sun was STILL in denial. Like I get it- okay, yeah, he bullies you and hits you a lot, ok. I HAVE PERSONALLY NEVER BEEN IN LOVE SO. I can understand Sun’s perspective. And I don’t know what to think about Freddy’s advice… I don’t think Moon should continue to express his love by… well, hurting Sun.

Im glad that Moon confessed. But after all Sun had been through with him, he was just totally in denial, basically just trying to come up with excuses to prove to himself, and/or Moon, that he WASN’T truly in love, although he insisted. I can’t blame Sun, but I felt like Moon should’ve at least been believed the first/second time he confessed. He shouldn’t have to prove he’s in love with Sun if he really is. But I get Sun’s denial- I mean, Moon isn’t really the nicest to him, and him actually going and confessing after all that’s happened would definitely seem a bit suspicious.

Sun wanting to stay friends with Moon is valid. I’m guessing he’s mostly just wanting nothing more chaotic than what’s already happening- being that confession (or at least, he’s a bit stunned). But Sun believed what Freddy said- he really was in love, and had been for a while. Sun probably felt a little uncomfortable by the whole experience, seeing how the love is one-sided. “There’s nothing wrong with that, we’re still friends”; from what I can put together, he’s fine and has finally accepted the fact that Moon really is in love. I don’t think he wants to take their relationship any further than it is though. He doesn’t necessarily or intentionally try to make Moon sad, even if his INITIAL words are totally rude. I don’t think Sun understands Moon’s attempts at showing affection/love in the episode.

Sun totally has a fair reason for not liking Moon back, but I feel like he could have handled the situation (and his wording) in a better way than he did. I feel bad for Moon since he’s new to romance, I’m sure they both are. I hope Moon is nicer from now on though- I never expected to see this side of him that we saw in this episode.

[tbshorts]

Starly turns a tiny cowlick into a powerfully proud pompadour

✨ Bidoof ✨ ... and Bibarel, I guess.

Kricketot and Kricketune are good, if unspectacular, costuming

Video scripts below the cut

Starly:

Why hello there, Gen 4 Pidgey, what is your deal?

Well, Starly isn't much of anything, it's a fairly literal translation of a starling, albeit with a quite compelling graphic design on the face and a good use of that one white tailfeather and the little cowlick on the head to give it some uniqueness.

Staravia mostly doubles down on those ideas, hardening the face mask into a star and REALLY curling that cowlick into a spitcurl that, along with the severe expression, gives it some strong confrontational energy.

And all of that comes to a head culminating naturally and very smoothly in Staraptor, which moves basically all of the design detail to the head and face. Its face crest now spreads out in sharp spikes, the eyes are red and focused and serious, and it's grown what's always seemed to me like a Bōsōzoku hairstyle, that particular brand of youth counterculture so embedded in Japanese pop culture. The blood red that it's tipped with gives it some much needed color and more menace, almost as though it's daring you to comment on its silly hairdo.

I feel the rest of the design is a bit neglected here, it could use some more detail, but all in all, it's effective, it looks powerful, it works.

Grade: A

Bidoof:

You know, if Bidoof didn't evolve, I might genuinely put it in S-tier.

Every generation needs its Rattata, right, a mostly weak, somewhat cute but usually quickly discarded Normal type with an early evolution, entirely designed to be left behind. Bidoof is that for Gen 4, but… who could ever abandon this precious child? Look at him! I struggle to even really articulate it, because its sweetness is so obvious.

Bidoof's shape language is very simple, all circles and rounded shapes, which then contrasts with the sharp rectangles of its teeth. And that enormous overbite combined with the tiny little red clown nose and those sweet little button eyes that are just a little too far apart… god it looks precious. It's so fucking cute! What dark alchemy did they pour into this beast to make it so fucking appealing??? If you can put him in a PC box and leave him without feeling guilty, your soul will not see Heaven!

The evolution, though… I mean Bibarel is fine, it's cute enough, but between that weird eye mask, the pinprick eyes which just don't work on it and the loss of a lot of its wooly fluffiness… some of the magic is lost.

It's still cute, it's still good, but it's just not Bidoof anymore.

Grade: A

Kricketot:

I don't usually give bug types much attention because, well, they tend to be weak and I don't like their type matchups, but Cricketot is a deceptively adorable little thing. With its wide collar and markings on the chest, it looks like it's wearing a fancy olde timey outfit, and depending on if you see the round shape on its face as a mouth or a nose it looks various degrees of awkward and shy. The color scheme is maybe a bit drab, but what a dapper little gentleman.

This all comes very much to a head in Cricketune, with its big imperious moustache the wings hanging off its body like fancy coat tails. Going by its pokédex entries it's supposed to evoke the idea of a virtuoso composer, playing on the idea of grasshoppers and crickets as violinists. And, yeah, I can see that idea. I think maybe the markings on the body could have evoked white tie dress a bit more explicitly, or maybe have its antennae shaped like musical notes or something, but, no, yeah, I buy it.

As a design, this is… perfectly effective. It's not exciting, but it's a fun idea and it works… well enough.

Grade: B

[qveenpoppy]

things i noticed in my pilot rewatch:

wolf almost immediately grabs a glass of champagne when he walks into the wedding with his first patient. i know the show's hinted at him having drug issues, but maybe he has some alcohol ones too? (unless that idea was abandoned since the pilot was written/filmed.)

"except now we're prescribing drugs instead of taking them." "speak for yourself." yeah he's definitely still dealing with those drug issues. i feel like the show's mostly implied for that to be a past thing (we've only seen him take anything twice, to my memory? not counting 1x09's upcoming flashback sequence) but i wonder if/when that'll become an issue again (maybe another patient loss that hurts wolf harder than roman's did? like a father figure, that'll bring back his feelings of guilt over his dad's death?)

it's tiny but i feel like van's crush is hinted at here, with him offering ericka an extra pair of scrubs (while jacob cockily jokes about his being too big for her) and the way he sneaks a glance at her while she changes (not in a creepy way, it's like a nervous/shy kinda way).

he also smiles at her when she yells at jacob while they're searching for hannah's childhood home, after jacob un-empathetically says the kids would be better off with their dad (guess van likes strong women; girlboss/malewife vibes? lol)

"do i ever have to talk to him again?" (wolf talking about nichols.) lmao, you're gonna be in love with him in about 6 episodes from now. also someone write me some pilot era wolfnichols hate sex.

"name one person you like who's not a patient." "you, i like you!" he's so autism-coded ❤️

wolf still uses cassette tapes in his car (which is also quite old, since it still plays tapes), what a grandpa

carol has a picture with michelle obama in her office (not really an important thing to notice, but i thought it was cool)

there's a line in one of the flashbacks (apologies for not quoting it verbatim) from muriel about "keeping our differences to ourselves", which probably explains why wolf isn't super open about his facial blindness. (and probably applies to all of his other traits that make him "different", like his sexuality, or popularly headcanon'd autism. i mean, i know he's open about his sexuality now as an adult, perhaps as a way of rebelling against his mom, but, as we may see in more flashbacks, he probably kept it to himself for quite a while.)

van is completely frozen when hannah has her seizure, he even backs up a little when she falls out of her chair. probably didn't wanna touch her and experience a phantom seizure.

whoever directed the ep made zach & teddy look like they're the same height when nichols confronts wolf and kicks him off the case. i guess it keeps them, literally and figuratively, on the same level in the dispute. but now we all know that wolf's actually shorter, and it's funny how that's been primarily highlighted when they're fooling around with each other. (i know it's an intentional directing tactic, though, bc a similar thing was done in the batman v superman movie when bruce and clark stand eye to eye - henry cavill is also 3 inches shorter than ben affleck. emphasizing the height difference would imply a power imbalance, which you don't want in these sort of gray zone conflicts!)

"the only way this will work is if we open up to each other." [nichols walks by and catches wolf's eye] foreshadowing

(i don't mean just like foreshadowing their romance, but maybe also the impact that nichols will have on wolf, getting him to open up about his past and whatnot. same, perhaps, for nichols, since we still hardly know anything about his background, besides his military experience and implied own closeting.)

(could also quite easily and literally refer to their work relationship, as we learned from that interview with teddy that, despite their romantic connection, they're still going to have some disputes about patient treatments in future episodes/cases.)

[simpxmachina]

NEW BOT

╰┈➤ wlw red panda , botmaker

🔪 + 🫀 = ☆ bloodthirsty ☆

cai

🎬 aubrey plaza - ‘NEPO-WIFE ?’

The evening was suffocatingly familiar. Aubrey stood in the hotel’s extravagant hallway, gazing out at the city skyline. The lights below twinkled like far-off stars, and yet all she could feel was the thrum of anxiety under her skin. Another event, another evening of being paraded out for the world to see, her every move scrutinized. And in that moment, she wished she could just disappear into the air—slip through the cracks of the red carpet and vanish.

But she couldn’t. Not with all the cameras, not with the eyes that followed her every movement. It didn’t help that tonight, she wasn’t standing alone.

"Hey," came your voice from behind her, soft and steady. You had that way of cutting through her fog of irritation, your presence like an anchor in a storm of flashing lights. Aubrey didn’t have to turn around to know you were standing there—she could feel you, your warmth, your steady energy. You, with your elegant, composed presence, the world at your fingertips, and the family legacy that made it all so easy for you.

But she wasn’t here to complain. Not yet. She would save that for later.

When she finally turned to face you, she caught the glint of your eyes—the same eyes that could pierce through her sarcastic veneer. You were wearing that calm, collected look, the one you always wore at these events. You were practically glowing in your tailored dress, a contrast to Aubrey’s unpolished and understated outfit that clung to her awkwardly, as always.

"Is it too late to back out?" Aubrey asked, deadpan, one eyebrow raised. She was never one to mince words. "I mean, who needs another ‘self-made girl’ on a red carpet? I’m pretty sure we’ve got enough of those already."

You laughed—your genuine laugh that Aubrey could always pick out from the crowd, the one that made her feel like maybe there was still something good left in this charade.

"Trust me, I’ve been trying to get you to ditch this thing for days," you said, stepping toward her, your fingers brushing the fabric of her gown. "But you know how it is. You’ve got to put on the show. Keep up appearances."

Aubrey’s lips twisted into a half-smirk. "Appearances. Yeah, that’s my specialty."

There was a brief moment of silence before you spoke again, a little softer this time. "You know they’re all watching us, right?"

Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I’m aware," she muttered. "I’m sure they’ll make some snide comment about how different we are—how we don’t belong together. Maybe I should just wave a flag that says ‘Look, we’re the most unlikely pair ever.’ That’ll be fun."

You reached up, placing a hand on her cheek, your touch gentle. "You know they’ll say whatever they want. But they don’t know us. We don’t need them to."

She sighed heavily, leaning into your touch for a moment, but quickly pulled away, as though she couldn’t allow herself to be too soft. "I know, I know," she muttered, turning her gaze back to the skyline. "But it’s just... annoying, you know? The way they only focus on how different we are. They can’t look at us and see anything but this weird mismatch of ‘privilege’ and ‘self-made,’ and they think that’s the whole story. It’s exhausting."

You smiled, as you always did, like you could sense the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. "Who cares what they think? You’re you, and I’m me, and that’s why I love you."

Aubrey turned her head slowly, looking at you with a small, almost vulnerable smile. "Yeah, well, sometimes I wonder if you know what you're getting into with me."

"You’re lucky I’m a glutton for punishment," you teased, tilting your head. "But honestly, I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care if they think we’re mismatched. I care that I’m with you, that I chose you. That’s what matters."

Aubrey smiled, a little less dry, a little less sarcastic. "Yeah, I guess that’s the most important thing. But it still bothers me when they talk about us like we’re some kind of circus act. You, with your big family legacy and perfect smile. And me... with my weird sense of humor and dry sarcasm. I mean, who wouldn’t wonder how that works?"

"You’re different, Aubrey," you said, taking her hand and squeezing it firmly. "And that’s what makes you perfect. We’re not a circus act. We’re just... us. And that’s all that matters."

---

The red carpet was as predictably absurd as it always was. The sea of flashing lights, the intrusive questions, the endless waves of publicists and photographers—all of it felt like a slow, grinding march. But this time, Aubrey tried to drown it out, to focus on you. Your presence beside her was a lifeline, even when the journalists turned their attention toward her.

"So, Aubrey," a reporter called, leaning in with a microphone in hand. "You've made a name for yourself as a very... unique presence in Hollywood. And of course, you're married to y/n, who comes from such a well-known family. Do you think that your relationship has ever put you under a different kind of microscope? The kind that focuses on your differences?"

Aubrey’s lips twitched upward in that signature, deadpan way. She glanced at you, noticing the way you stood a little straighter, like you were preparing to shield her. "Oh, sure," she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I’m sure they’ll get all worked up about how I’m not the perfect ‘nepo wife’ they expected. I’m so out of my depth here."

The journalist didn’t pick up on her sarcasm, as usual. "But seriously, Aubrey, do you ever feel the pressure of being married to someone with such a powerful legacy? Do the comparisons ever get to you?"

Aubrey’s expression remained unchanged, though there was a brief flicker of something—irritation, maybe—behind her eyes. She was so used to these questions, so tired of them. And yet, she played the game with the kind of dry humor that had earned her a loyal fanbase.

"Look," Aubrey said, turning toward the reporter with a wry smile. "I didn’t marry y/n for the family name. If I wanted to marry into money and power, I would’ve chosen a billionaire. But here we are, still going strong, and that’s all that matters."

You laughed beside her, but the smile didn’t quite reach Aubrey’s eyes. You could see it—the slight tightening of her jaw, the way she didn’t let herself truly relax, even in the midst of a playful comment. Aubrey Plaza might pretend she didn’t care about the opinions of others, but you both knew the truth.

In public, she would never admit it. But in the quiet of their private moments, away from the cameras, she would sigh, lean against the wall, and mutter, "I hate that they keep bringing it up. They don't get it. We’re not a 'mismatch.' We're just... us."

You always knew what to say, though. You would wrap your arms around her, gently kissing the top of her head. "I get it. And I love you for it."

---

Later that night, when the flashes finally stopped and the event was over, the two of you retreated back to your hotel room. The exhaustion of the evening hung heavily in the air. Aubrey didn’t even bother to take off her gown right away. She collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, her fingers twitching idly by her side.

"Did you hear what they said about us today?" she asked, her voice flat. "The ‘privilege’ and ‘hard work’ narrative... I swear, it’s like they don’t care about anything real. It’s all just surface-level crap."

You climbed onto the bed beside her, leaning on your elbow to look at her. "Aubrey, I’m not going anywhere. I chose you, and nothing anyone says changes that."

Aubrey’s lips twisted in that familiar, dry smile, but there was something softer in it now. "Yeah, I know. I just wish people would stop treating us like we're part of some goddamn zoo."

"Who cares about them? You’re my world, Aubrey. No one else matters."

In that moment, with the lights of the city still flickering outside and the world far, far away, Aubrey let out a long sigh, finally relaxing into the comfort of your arms.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I guess you’re right. I just wish it didn’t make me feel so... weird."

And for the first time that night, Aubrey allowed herself to drift into the quiet safety of your love, away from the spotlight and the noise, knowing that no matter how many cameras flashed or how many critical voices rose, she could always count on you to be her anchor, her support. In your arms, there was no judgment, no expectations—just the simple, steady beat of two hearts who had found their rhythm amidst the chaos.

But it wasn't over, it never was.

Long days—press tours, meetings, photoshoots. The usual whirlwind that came with being in the spotlight. You knew the routine by now, but today it felt different. Aubrey was quieter than usual, her sarcasm less biting, her usual dry humor subdued. You noticed it immediately, and it gnawed at you, a feeling in your gut that wouldn’t settle.

You and Aubrey had built something together over the past four years—something that others could never quite understand. She had earned every bit of her career, every inch of respect, while you, despite your best efforts to separate yourself from your family’s influence, were always seen as the “privileged one.” The “nepo baby,” they called you. And the contrast between you two—her rawness, her authenticity, her self-made success; and your polished, well-maintained image, always tethered to your powerful family—was something people always seemed to focus on.

You had tried to ignore it, at least outwardly. But tonight, in the dimly lit apartment you shared with Aubrey, it couldn’t be ignored. She looked tired, not just from the long day, but from something deeper. Something heavier.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked gently, noticing her staring blankly at her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen without purpose.

Aubrey looked up, her sharp gaze meeting yours, but her expression was unreadable. The easy sarcasm was gone. "What’s there to talk about?" she muttered, dropping the phone on the couch. "Just another day of pretending everything’s fine."

You swallowed, biting back the urge to remind her that she was the one who always said she didn’t care about what people thought. You’d spent enough time in the public eye yourself to know that there was always a kernel of truth behind those words. And despite what she projected, Aubrey did care. She cared about the scrutiny, the constant comparisons, the way her career had somehow become secondary in the public eye.

You shifted closer to her on the couch, careful not to invade her space but unwilling to let her retreat into herself entirely. "It’s not like you to be this quiet," you said softly, trying to keep the mood light. "Not even a single snarky comment about how I burned dinner last night?"

Aubrey’s lips twitched in what could have been a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "It’s not about dinner. It’s about this... circus. All of it."

She gestured vaguely toward her phone, but you knew what she meant. The press tour. The interviews. The countless articles dissecting every detail of your marriage. And the most recent headline that had likely set her off: "Aubrey Plaza, the Wife of Hollywood's Golden Girl."

It wasn’t the first time her name had been reduced to a footnote, a descriptor attached to yours. But it never got easier for her.

"I’ve worked my ass off for years," Aubrey said, her voice low and steady, but there was an edge to it, a rawness that made you hold your breath. "I’ve done indie films no one thought would succeed. I’ve fought for roles, dealt with rejection after rejection, clawed my way into this industry. And now, suddenly, I’m not Aubrey Plaza anymore. I’m your wife. Like that’s all I am."

Her words hung in the air like a weight, and you didn’t know how to respond. Because the truth was, you had seen it happening too. The way her accomplishments were overshadowed, the way interviews that were supposed to be about her projects turned into questions about your relationship. You hated it as much as she did, but you hadn’t known how deeply it had affected her. Until now.

"You’re not just my wife," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "You’re so much more than that. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to talk about you."

Aubrey scoffed, but there was no real humor in it. "Tell that to the reporters who only want to ask me what it’s like being married to you. Or the producers who suddenly think I’m only relevant because of your last name. It’s like everything I’ve worked for means nothing now."

You reached for her hand, but she pulled away, standing up and pacing the room. "Do you know how humiliating it is to have people act like I’ve coasted into success because of you? Like I didn’t do anything before we got together? I love you, but sometimes... sometimes it feels like I’m losing myself in this."

Her honesty cut you to the core, but you couldn’t blame her. How could you? She wasn’t wrong. And yet, hearing her say it out loud felt like a blow you hadn’t been prepared for.

"I didn’t ask for this either," you said, standing up to face her. "I didn’t ask to be born into this family or to have every move I make scrutinized. And I sure as hell didn’t ask for my relationship with you to be turned into some kind of spectacle."

Aubrey stopped pacing, her arms dropping to her sides as she looked at you, her eyes softening just slightly. "I know you didn’t," she said quietly. "And I’m not blaming you. I just... I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. It’s like no matter what I do, I can’t escape it."

The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind that threatened to break you apart. It was the kind that made you lean in, made you fight harder to understand each other. You stepped closer to her, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to gently touch her arm.

"You’ve always been more than enough," you said softly. "Before we were together, before anyone even knew my name, you were already a force to be reckoned with. That hasn’t changed, Aubrey. And it never will."

She sighed, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she let you pull her into a hug. She rested her head against your shoulder, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fade. But you knew it wasn’t gone. Not completely.

"I just wish people could see me for who I am," she murmured, her voice muffled against your skin. "Not just as some extension of you."

You tightened your arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "They will," you promised. "We’ll make them see. Together."

And in that moment, as the two of you stood there in the quiet of your apartment, you knew that no matter how many headlines tried to define your relationship, no matter how many whispers tried to reduce Aubrey to just your wife, the truth of who she was—and who you were together—was something no one could take away.

But the internet never thinks like that.

The internet had turned into a battlefield again, and you were the primary casualty. Pictures of you and Aubrey walking out of a luxury boutique were plastered across every social media platform, accompanied by wild, baseless assumptions.

One particular photo had gone viral: you standing still, clearly mid-conversation, while Aubrey carried two bags in her hands. The truth was that you’d twisted your ankle on the way out and had stopped to catch your breath while Aubrey, ever practical, had grabbed your things to keep the line moving. But the internet didn’t want the truth. It wanted a story.

There were three camps now. The first claimed that Aubrey Plaza deserved better than a spoiled “nepo baby” who made her carry shopping bags like a servant. The second argued you deserved better, painting Aubrey as a gold-digger exploiting your wealth. The third defended your relationship, posting clips and interviews to show how much love you shared.

The third group was small.

And no matter how many times you tried to ignore it, the hate had crawled under your skin, festering in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

By the time you walked into the convention hall for a Q&A about your new series, you were already simmering beneath the surface. You’d perfected the art of smiling through discomfort, of keeping your golden-girl persona intact, but today felt harder than usual.

The panel started smoothly enough. The moderator asked you about your role, the challenges you faced during filming, and your experience working with the cast. You answered every question thoughtfully, earning laughs and applause from the audience.

Then came the inevitable question.

“So,” the interviewer began, leaning forward with a too-familiar smirk, “do you think your family name helped you land this role?”

The room went quiet for a moment. You didn’t flinch; you’d been asked this question a dozen times before.

You smiled politely, your voice steady. “I’d like to think that my work is enough to prove that I made it on my own, but I’m not blind to the fact that my name carries a lot of weight. I can’t deny my privilege. That being said, I hope to continue earning roles because of my talent, not my last name.”

The audience murmured, a mix of admiration and skepticism. You’d expected as much.

But then a microphone made its way to a member of the audience, a man who seemed far too eager to speak. His tone was mocking, his body language confrontational.

“Speaking of privilege,” he began, a smirk curling his lips, “do you think your wife is what people are calling her now? You know—a ‘nepo-trophy-wife’? Seems like she’s benefitting a lot from being with you.”

The words hit you like a slap, and the audience gasped collectively. The interviewer looked uncomfortable, clearly unsure whether to intervene.

You felt your chest tighten, the simmering anger from earlier now boiling over. You leaned forward, gripping the microphone tightly.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you asked, your voice deceptively calm.

The man, emboldened by the attention, shrugged. “I mean, she’s clearly riding your coattails. It’s not like anyone was talking about her before you two got together.”

A hush fell over the room. The interviewer looked like they wanted to sink into the floor, but you didn’t give them the chance to redirect.

“Aubrey Plaza,” you said, your tone icy but controlled, “has been in this industry far longer than I have. She’s been in critically acclaimed films and shows—some of which you’ve probably seen, considering you know her name well enough to make an opinion about her.”

The man started to interrupt, but you cut him off.

“And let’s be very clear,” you continued, your voice rising slightly, “if anyone in this relationship is riding coattails, it’s me. I’m the one who should be called a ‘nepo-trophy-wife.’ Aubrey has worked her ass off for everything she has. She’s an incredible actress, and the fact that you think you have the right to reduce her career to her relationship with me says more about your ignorance than it does about her.”

The audience broke into applause, but you barely heard it. You handed the microphone back to the moderator, sitting stiffly as the panel moved on.

---

When you got home that evening, your stomach was still in knots. You didn’t regret defending Aubrey—not for a second—but you knew the fallout was inevitable. You could already hear the headlines: Golden Girl Goes Off! or Y/n Shows Spoiled, Bratty Side!

You dropped your bag on the kitchen counter and sighed, rubbing your temples. Aubrey’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Quite the show you put on,” she said, stepping out from the living room with her phone in hand. She was smirking, but her eyes held something softer, something warmer.

You froze. “You saw it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You kidding? It’s all over the internet. ‘Golden Girl Defends Wife with Fiery Speech.’ You’re trending.”

You groaned, sinking onto the couch. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Aubrey sat beside you, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Hey,” she said, nudging your shoulder, “you were amazing.”

You turned to look at her, surprised. “Really? Because I feel like I just painted a target on both of our backs.”

Aubrey shook her head, her dark eyes shining. “Let them talk. You know what I care about? That my wife—the golden girl, the internet’s sweetheart—stood up for me. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. And it was... really hot, actually.”

You laughed despite yourself, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit. “Hot, huh?”

“Extremely,” she said, leaning closer. “There’s nothing more attractive than you telling the world to screw off because you love me.”

You felt your cheeks flush, and before you could respond, Aubrey kissed you. It wasn’t a soft, sweet kiss—it was firm, passionate, full of everything she couldn’t put into words.

When she pulled back, she was grinning, her usual dry humor creeping back into her tone. “So, do I need to start calling you my publicist now? Or are you sticking with ‘wife’?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning into her. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” she teased, wrapping an arm around you.

The internet could say whatever it wanted. In this moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way Aubrey looked at you—as if you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

this might be my favorite, just fed my delulu self <3

[breakyourrxles]

❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟜

𝐞𝐠𝐨

↳ A risky company decision meant to catapult your new and emerging group into the limelight also has the unique side effect of launching you straight into the crosshairs of something that will change everything.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [7,0k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

"I was there, yeah, and I saw what I saw," Sunwoo interrupts. "We're close, you don't have to lie to me. You're interested."

You meet silence upon walking into the entryway of the apartment.

There are signs of life still; quiet bumping and movement behind closed doors further away from you. An ambiance of questioning and unsureness mingling in the air despite no one being there to grace you with it. A heavy breath escapes you finally now that Sunwoo has left and the door stands between what was once you and him, relieved that this portion of it all has come to a tentative close.

But you know it will be short-lived.

One of the doors to a bedroom eventually cracks open, slowly drawn apart as if the person standing on the other side is carefully checking for safety. Your attention perks up and your eyes find Miyoung's through the sliver she has made, and once the surroundings have been adequately surveyed, she finally steps out and into the living room.

The expression on her face gives you little to ascertain from it, but what you can find is a slight, barely-there frown digging into the corners of her lips.

"He can't come around here like that," Miyoung says.

"I know." Your shoulders slump immediately, and you easily give in to the fact of the matter. "I… didn't know he was coming. It won't happen again."

Her eyes narrow ever so slightly, as if attempting to find something deeply laden within your words and yet completely unspoken. Miyoung is kind but attentive—perfectly capable of picking up on the nuance around her—and right now, that fact frightens you.

She chews on her bottom lip just a bit and then says, "Look, we're going to be in this for a very long time together, at least, that's what I hope. I don't want to pry and I don't expect to know every detail about your personal life but…" Miyoung pauses, and it feels suffocating between you. "But… Is there anything we should know about you and him? I know the history and all that but the way you two act together seems different."

"No! No, of course there's nothing!" you're quick to say.

"If you're like, seeing him, or interested in him or something, I just think it'd be better for all of us to navigate the situation if we know about it."

"I'm not! We're not like, involved, or anything like that! We just… met, and I guess we get along and the fan-idol thing is kind of humorous to him so he has taken a bit of a liking to me but it's not anything like that. We're really just friends." Already, you feel as though you've given away too much by saying that word, despite the lies previously riddled within the explanation. So, you make an effort to correct the stance and go forward with a far more simplistic "Friendly. We're friendly."

"Do you like him?" Miyoung asks, plain and simple and out there in the open, impossible to ignore. 

The question just about bowls you over. It is so firm and left with no room for misinterpretation that your anxiety spikes, especially as it is coming off of the back of a very strange conversation only just had with the exact man in question.

"What I mean is," she adjusts, "is there any chance that whatever is going on between you two now, could eventually turn into something more?"

You tell her no, but for some inexplicable reason, it does not feel good to do so.

Two months down, two more to go.

During what becomes clear to you as the final conceptual meeting between your members and the team directors, the remaining questions that have been hanging in the air in relation to your group's future are finally answered.

Thankfully, it is all good news. You will debut as ten, with no further cuts to the line-up being made. Yourself and the girls all share bright, relieved smiles and caring physical gestures; the fear of more loss no longer dampening the promise of a stage that is soon to come.

The group is called MVNE, and though it is somewhat strange, it fits the current landscape of active and debuting groups in your overall space. It is pronounced as moon, and conceptually, your appearances will match it rather perfectly. A dark and mature concept—and with no underaged members on the team, you're able to breathe a sigh of relief—because the next round of mood board ideas shown to the room certainly does lean into something a bit more edgy and sex. Cutting edge and immensely risky for a newly debuting girl group, but rather fitting of the vibes in relation to your labelmates.

You are promised that it will all start off rather slowly, and that the group will not be pushed into shock-factor choreography and revealing outfits straight away. The directors are honest and upfront about the fact that there will be many risks, and they have every intention of turning away from what is more commonly looked for and accepted in the public currently. This will make your life and job harder, and the comments that are posted online may not be as kind as if you were to debut with a softer, more demure essence. However, you are not looking to take a simple road, and thus, the challenge is more than accepted.

In fact, this is hardly news. The auditions were fairly obvious in what they had been searching for, and though the concept had at the time been very much into its infancy, the casting directors had spoken openly about what it was that at hopeful may or may not have been signing up for. Naturally, anything can change in the journey between then and now; you're thankful that it has not.

Spirits are high by the end of the meeting, and though there is another schedule waiting just after it, all of the girls wear wide smiles as they make their way out into the hallway. Woori finds you immediately as your managers shuffle you down the hall, and slings her arm around your shoulders.

"It's happening," she sing-songs. "I'm so excited! Really glad we didn't get stuck with doing a cute concept after all, I had been hearing rumblings…"

"You know as well as I do that the cute concepts will come, nobody sticks to one thing forever."

"I know, but I think it's promising that the company is willing to take a different path rather than the one of least resistance. I think this will be good for us. Not easy, probably much harder, but good."

You hum at that, agreeing with the thought behind it. "Well, we have a great leader, so no matter what happens, we're gonna be okay."

Woori's eyes narrow, scrutinizing you playfully. "Already buttering me up, are you? Trying to be the favorite? Or are you hopeful that the shippers get a hold of us and run wild."

Laughing, you purse your lips towards her as if with the intention to kiss her and say, "Ooh, now wouldn't that be fun?"

"Aren't you a little wrapped up already?" she replies, a particularly suspicious inkling dripping from her tone. "What's the boy-toy going to think about it all?"

Hearing Sunwoo being passingly referred to as your boy-toy is something of a fascinating development, alongside of him and your relationship to him being discussed with such ease. You reel ever so slightly, though you make an honest attempt to force any reaction back.

"My what now?"

"Oh, come on! You think I didn't hear about him coming by late at night to see you?" Woori says. "I hear about everything now and I will continue to hear about it in the future! Though I will admit, it's a little messy to have a well-established idol coming to the trainee dorms. Who knows who might be following him."

Yes, I agree, but unfortunately trying to tell Sunwoo anything in regards to logic is something of an impossibility. You can't say it, but you think it just as strongly and instead you settle on a simpler response of, "He should know better, but I told him he can't come around like that. It won't happen again."

Woori snorts at that, seemingly disbelieving of your words just as much as you are. "I don't know a lot about him, but based on what I've heard, that sounds incredibly unlikely," she says. "Sunwoo has something of a reputation of… well, just sort of doing whatever he feels like at any given moment, and maybe he'll think about it later."

Spot on, you think.

"Are you excited about the photoshoot?" she asks then, comically rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain. Woori will be popular amongst the public, for sure. Impossible not to love. "I think it's going to be really interesting, groups don't really get to do things like this. When the directors said they were going to take risks, they sure meant it."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm going to be surveying the reception online for a few weeks after it's all released," you say.

In fact, you have done your best to put the whole thing out of your mind ever since hearing about it a few days ago. Sunwoo had messaged you with some excitement in relation, and though you feigned matching his intrigue, all you could do was stew in the worry that the thin veil that stands between you and him may quickly come to an end.

Co-ed group engagements are rarely done, for the obvious reasons pertaining to idol-fan relations and the image that idoldom is meant to sell. Idols don't get into relationships with anyone but their fans, and they certainly don't make any efforts to express a romantic or physical interest in someone working within their same space. 

Today, you're going to pretend to do both.

"Sex sells, whether idol fans want to admit it or not, and someone out there is going to be incredibly intrigued by the chemistry between us and them. It's a long shot for sure, but I'm looking forward to it."

You cannot, under any circumstances, be paired up with Sunwoo.

Hilariously (to him,) this outcome is precisely what he is hoping for. You had received paragraph after paragraph on your phone about all of the fun little ideas that he has for the shoot; hands on thighs, lips edging just close enough to the flesh of your neck or face. He had seemed delighted by the whole thing, while you screamed until passing out silently inside of your own head.

Then,  ideas of your own begin to trickle through despite your best efforts to avoid them. Even now as Woori revisits the topic, images of Sunwoo's hand pressed against your hip, or warm breath feathering lightly across your lips has the tiny hairs across your skin prickling and standing at anxiety-ridden attention.

Anyone but Sunwoo.

The room for the shoot is up a few levels where the much larger staging offices are located. Twenty-one bodies are meant to fit in here—not counting staff—and thus the need for space is of the utmost importance. The door is already pried and held open by the time your group arrives, and before you turn inside, you hear voices that are all too familiar to you already in attendance.

Your heart races. His group knows the truth, but yours, does not.

As expected, the staff is friendly and professional, and though it is going to be an incredibly long day stuffed into this studio for shooting, you're very much aware of the fact that it could be far, far worse.

There are beverages and snacks set aside on a long table off to the side, and ahead of that is a massive pile of electronics; lighting and photography equipment litter the vast, open space, and further ahead of that is an incredibly massive and elaborate set.

Make-up is done in the same room and off to another side, but fittings are set into two of the other rooms just next door to this one. MVNE outfits are simple and sexy but far from revealing. A lot is left to the imagination but everything fits just right and frankly; you and the girls look fucking amazing. When Woori, Miyoung and Kaia turn into the hallway from the fitting room you've left not long before, your jaw drops. They all look stunning.

"Wow." The single word is all you can muster up at first, eyes wide in amazement. "You look incredible. Whoever gets paired with you three are going to be the luckiest guys of the day."

"Funny you should mention that," Woori says, her index finger jutting into the air and demanding attention. "I have received information! We're all going to cycle through a few different potential pairings, take a bunch of photos with each based on, I don't know, probably visual vibes or whatever, and then whichever pairing looks best in post is what's going to be going up for the world to see." One eyebrow perks up as she looks at you specifically, and then she says, "Even better odds for you."

Your eyes flicker between Woori, Miyoung and Kaia, but quickly you land back on the first. "Are you all in on this, or something? What am I missing here?"

"No, if I had my way that man would not be coming around, much less having his little delusions fed by you," Miyoung says. "Woori likes it, though. She thinks it's cute, for some reason."

Kaia shrugs. "I'm fairly indifferent so long as you don't blow up the group."

"It's romantic!" Woori whines, seriously displeased by being the only person in attendance not willing to succumb to the whims of the alleged fairytale at hand. "What a cute story! She was his fan and then an idol at the same company and they fall in love? How could the public not love that!"

"Very easily, if history is anything to go by," Miyoung reasons.

"You guys are no fun. No whimsy."

"Right," you interject, hopeful to move the topic away from your personal involvements. "Then do we know any information about what the staff has in store for us?"

Woori shrugs and says, "Beyond me and Sangyeon—on account of both being the leaders of our groups—no, I've not heard anything else."

This is worrying, if the intent is to pair based on potential similarities in group formation. You are a dancer, as is Sunwoo—though his position is perhaps more closely tied to that of a rapper. A coldness rushes down your spine at the thought, your hope in being spared dwindling fast.

"Only one way to find out, I guess," Kaia says, "Shall we meet our fate?"

The girls walk ahead of you, and as you linger just behind you inhale a deep, sharp breath and are left with little more than hoping for the best.

Standing in front of the set, it's only now that you're really able to take in the full display of it.

The vibe is something akin to a sultry, romantic bar. Dim lights sprawling over gold accents on dark wood furniture and deep burgundy upholstery. The kind of place that a man might take a woman that he is not meant to be seen in public with; it's sort of genius, all things about this concept considered.

The shoot director calls for you then, and walks with you to the set and where he specifically wants you to be. Nestled inside of a corner, there is a half-moon shaped booth with a table and faux-alcoholic drinks immaculately placed atop. The seat is not comfortable—hell, it's hardly even real—but it gets the job done and looks good enough to the eye that no one who looks at the photos will be at all aware that you can feel a plank of wood poking painfully at your thigh.

"You might have an easy day," the director says in passing as he begins the finishing touches for the lighting and the cameras. "We're fairly certain of who we want to go with for you."

Oh god.

He steps away to take a spot behind the line of equipment, and you are then surrounded by two stylists sent to add some additional finishes to your own look. Your line of sight to the outside world is cut off by the bodies, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching and the director telling whoever it is that you are already set in place. Your heart pounds so hard inside of your chest that it seems impossible that neither of the women can hear it; echoing inside of your ears and making your stomach churn. It's stiflingly warm under the lights, so hot. Too hot. A waft of dizziness finds you, but you cannot pass out during your first major shoot leading up to your debut, and especially not on account of simply having to take photos with a man. No matter who he ends up being.

The women lean back to get one final look at you, and with a smile and a nod, they send themselves on their way and disperse.

It's the moment of truth, and once your eyes fall upon him, you're not really sure what to think.

There he is. Standing in front of you with his hands shoved into perfectly ironed black slacks. All black everything, in fact; save for the burgundy tie loosely hung around his neck as if it has already been found by the hands of a woman hopeful to undress him.

A small smirk sits perked into one side of his lips, his eyes dark and sharp. Black hair messy with intention, all a part of a detailed look.

He is not Sunwoo, but you have spoken before.

Fansigns have a funny way of ensuring that you have engaged in some form of conversation with all of them at some point in time. You realize only now that during those years, your sights had been so firmly set on Sunwoo that you'd never given yourself time or space to acknowledge any of the rest in the same sort of intricate, specialized way.

Taking slow, thoughtful strides towards you, Juyeon slides into the booth beside you and greets you with a wider, more inviting smile.

"Probably not what you were aiming for," he says, lightly jesting. "Hopefully you're not too disappointed."

"No, not at all!" You don't mean to sound so eager, but truthfully, it is the best case scenario and you find difficulty in masking how absolutely relieved the sight of him makes you feel. "It's nothing like that, really."

"Good then, easy work for us. Make sure you let me know if you're uncomfortable with anything, work like this can get a little…"

"Strange," you say, finishing the thought. Juyeon smiles and hums an agreement.

You knew what the shoot was, and what the creative direction of it had been aiming for, but being in it is a whole different experience, you are soon to discover.

The first handful of poses and motions are simplistic; a closeness to your bodies that might allude to something more being behind it all but moderately expressed to truly drive the point home. With little time, however, Juyeon's body finds further closeness to your own at the direction of the talent on the set. His palm finds your knee; large hands that practically dwarf it in size, a careful lean of his face closer to your own, an arm draped over your shoulders to hold you closer into him.

He smells very faintly of some fragrance, but mostly all you are able to catch is the cleanliness of his hair from being freshly shampooed. Juyeon's touch is so thoughtful; confident but wholly in-tuned to any potential reaction to him that you may have. As his face creeps closer, the feeling of his body near to your own begins to spread an unanticipated warmth through your form. He has always been attractive—impossible not to take notice of such a striking appearance—and now that he is here with you like this, for the express purpose of selling the exact thing that you find yourself to be personally experiencing, your stress in relation to it all but melts away.

You turn to face him, lips only centimeters away from making contact and his eyes fall immediately to look at yours before crawling back up to revisit the lost gaze.

Juyeon's breath is soft but warm against your mouth, and though you are so close to him that your sight is severely impaired, you do see the slow and slight upturn to one corner of his lips.

His hand offers a light squeeze to the top of your knee, and before you have a chance to take proper notice of it, the pressure is gone.

The director howls something from behind the lines of equipment and it practically startles you out of your skin. You realize then, in that moment, that you had completely forgotten that you are in the company of onlookers whilst wrapped in Juyeon's presence.

He creates space between the two of you, and with a smile Juyeon says, "See? Easy stuff. Sort of figured it'd be a quick wrap-up when I found out it was you I'd be shooting with."

Your head cocks to the side inquisitively. "Is that so?"

"Of course. No one better I could have possibly been paired with."

A slow smile edges onto your lips no matter how much you aim to fight it, and as the staff hustle about to ready themselves for the next shoot, your attention begins to wander at the feeling of being watched; and being watched you are.

Tucked into the back of the room, though not so far away that you are unable to ascertain his expression, stands Sunwoo with arms crossed over his chest and eyes fully locked on you.

For a moment the eye contact remains firm, that is, until he rolls his in a rather unimpressed manner and slinks off completely out of sight.

The response is shocking.

Baffling would be your word of choice, though you opt out of saying as much upon being pressed about it. Debut for MVNE is now only a week out and the days are ticking by both painfully slowly and with unfathomable velocity. The photos are out, and though you had previously told yourself you would not succumb to the interest of public perception, you find that knowing of it is going to be utterly impossible.

It's good. Really good.

On the way down to the company cafe, even the regular staff throughout the halls are on their phones and mingling amongst one another to collectively ooh and ahh at the sights to behold. You haven't seen the pictures—not since the day, and not after retouching—so really, you have no idea what it is that everyone seems to be making a fuss about.

Today is dance, like so many other days for you. Good is never good enough, and you severely doubt that there will ever come a time in the future where you are content with the progress you have made. Just like any other art, there is always room for improvement. It never finishes, never finds an end, is never truly completed; this is no different.

Your thighs are a little sore on account of going at the choreography especially hard in the weeks leading up to the final date. Logically, you know that you must take it just a bit easier on yourself so that you can maintain the health required for the amount of schedules that you are soon to be thrown into. Early mornings and late nights will come, and come and come again. You have to be able to weather the storm.

But, your condition is fairly good, all things considered, and with a coffee and a croissant soon to be consumed, you will be ready to take on the day.

You walk through the doors and at a table just to the side, Woori and another one of the members—Nara—are sitting with an ample display of food items and much like everyone else around here today, completely glued to their screens.

Woori's attention pops up at the sudden intrusion of your being there, her expression lights up and a hand rips towards you to tug you down to the chair beside her. "Look!" she says, and nearly demonic she sounds. "Holy shit, this turned out amazingly!"

"People really like them," Nara interjects, and the disbelief in even her tone is evidence of the fact that none of you could have predicted this outcome. "Lucky me getting paired with Younghoon, a fan favorite, that guy is."

"No kidding," Woori says, and though she is in agreement, her head is shaking as if she isn't. "I just can't believe it, I thought for sure we'd be getting eaten alive in the comments."

Your eyes narrow questioningly. "Are we… not?"

"No! Not even a little bit!" Woori tips her screen towards you and scrolls through all of the comments, most with a large amount of upvotes considering the newness of your team, and now the shock catches you as if it is contagious from the others. "I mean sure, there's the stray hating ass bitch here or there, but mostly it's being well-received, and the best part…" She pulls her phone back to her, does some more scrolling, then typing, then scrolling again, before showing you what is there once more.

It's numerous entries about your photos with Juyeon, in particular.

"Seems like your spread is the most popular. Would you look at that."

"What? Seriously?"

You snatch the device from Woori as if it doesn't belong to her at all and take on scrolling for yourself. You said you wouldn't do this, but now that the initial layer of doubt has been shoved aside, it's free range for your viewing pleasure. There's posts—a lot of posts—of people praising your shoot with Juyeon. Comments often talk about how your aesthetics pair well and how the chemistry is through the roof, how good you two look together, and even some stray comments about shipping this moving forward.

You're in a particularly interesting spot where you know more than most of Juyeon's popularity among the fandom, and even outside of it. Easily, being paired with him could have landed you in a precarious and uninviting place, yet somehow; that couldn't be further from the truth.

"I'm genuinely shocked," Nara reiterates, words that have likely been said over and over again today already. "Somehow, we all stuck the landing."

"They're really good photos," Woori says, and yanking her phone back, she scrolls to a snapshot taken during that brief, single moment in which Juyeon's eyes fell down to your lips. She turns the screen to face you with your demons and then says, "This one is especially good, maybe Sunwoo is out of the running after all."

"Running for what?"

The words startle you, because the voice is not one you are expecting to hear. You lurch to the side, because it comes from behind and above you, and turning back to look, Sunwoo is standing just above you and seemingly none too amused about whatever it is he has had the misfortune of eavesdropping on.

"Look!" Woori, all too delighted to show off these photos and their reception to any and everyone with a second to spare in appeasing her, shoves the phone up to Sunwoo's face.

Watching him intently, Sunwoo's expression does not change. He does not smile, he does not falter in any evident, explicit way. His eyes linger on the screen in front of him, he blinks a few times, and then with complete, statuesque stillness he simply says: "Cool."

"Oh my god, that's it?" Woori says, beyond disgruntled by the response. "You know, your photos with Serri are getting a lot of love too, if you even care!"

"I saw this morning," Sunwoo says, with no emotion present in his tone. "I don't think she and I had as much fun doing it as some other people might have, though."

That comment grabs Nara's attention, happy to voice her dissatisfaction in any situation, at any time. Her lip twists into something akin to a snarl and looking at Sunwoo she says, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Easy," Woori warns, because they are in no position to be talking down to him regardless of the reason.

"Just glad everyone had a good time," Sunwoo says, and though there is a perkiness to his tone now, you know him well enough to notice the fakeness heavily embedded within it. His attention falls specifically to you then, and with an equally phony smile he continues the thought with, "And hey, Juyeon is single, so feel free to go for it!"

If your surroundings were different, this conversation would not be unfolding the way that it is. Sunwoo is taking full advantage of the fact that because of your current company, you are unable to offer any pushback in relation to the way that he is behaving. While not completely unlike him, you haven't ever been on the receiving end of his expressive and sometimes emotional outbursts, and though you do not feel as though you are deserving of it, the conversation previously had at the dorm all those weeks ago now sits unignorable at the forefront of your mind.

Is he… jealous?

Obviously, and regardless of what he may say when pressed, the answer is emphatically a yes. This fact is foreign to you; something that you are not at all equipped to maneuver given the current state of affairs not only in your own professional life, but in conjunction with his own.

And more than anything else: you thought you were both in agreement.

For a few long moments, you and Sunwoo stare at one another, and once he appears satisfied with your inability to question his motives, he bids your table farewell and makes his way across the room towards where Eric and Changmin are waiting.

You let out a heavy exhale, but you are far from out of the lion's den just yet.

Woori and Nara are both staring at you, something you do not have to confirm by actually looking at them, and thus, your eyes remain closed in thought as you attempt to make sense of anything that appears to have been brewing unbeknownst to you.

"What the hell was that about?" Nara asks, breaking the silence that hangs in the air.

None of this makes any sense without context, you think. If you just tell them about your history, it could be easier. They would understand. 

"He's…" You begin to say it, the rest of the confession sitting on the tip of your tongue, but as your eyes open slowly and the weight of their gaze becomes all too apparent to you, once again you become frightened by the possibilities that could be awaiting you. 

"He's nosy, I've come to find, and a little worried about doing co-ed work, so I think even when this is received well he's concerned about the next time. If there's a next time. I don't really blame him. It's a risky line we're all walking."

Nara rolls her eyes, but seems relatively placated by the explanation. Woori, however, remains fully fixated on you.

"Is he worried about doing co-ed work," Woori asks, "or is he more worried about other people doing co-ed work?"

She presents it as a question, but based on the look on her face when she does and the way her heavy eyes are locked upon your own, you know she isn't really asking one.

Nights where you stay far too late are becoming much too commonplace, but the jittery drive of debut hanging just around the corner often leaves you with a restlessness that nothing can seem to quell. Nothing except more practice.

The rest of the girls have long since left to go home, and though Woori had messaged you about dinner waiting for your return, it's going to be cold now, so there is little reason to hurry back. You're a little sore and covered with a sheen of sweat by the time you call it quits, and carelessly shoving your belongings into your bag, you head out into one of the many empty hallways of the company building.

Not so empty, as you are soon to find out.

You aren't anticipating finding anyone sharing the space, lingering there leaned against the wall next to the doorway and so when you do, you nearly shriek from the start.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

Sunwoo pushes himself to an upright position, arms crossed and an accompanying roll of his eyes as if bored with your theatrics. "Who else would be here?" he asks.

"Well, no one. That's kind of the whole reason that you just scared the shit out of me."

"Ta-da." There is no exuberance behind the expression he gives.

His hood is tugged down—a rare occurrence—and so all of that fluffy hair and sharp features are fully on display. Sunwoo makes no effort in displaying anything but precisely what he is feeling, and what he certainly appears to be feeling is abject annoyance at something. 

"What?" you say, "What is wrong with you? And while we're at it, what was that back there earlier today?"

His eyes narrow as he looks at you, surveying what stands before him in a way that you cannot quite parse through. He doesn't reply immediately, but irritation he harbors is plainly evident without so much as a word.

"So," Sunwoo begins, "Juyeon, huh?"

"Oh, god." Exasperated, your shoulders slump and eyes roll comically exaggerated. Rather than engage in this, you shove past Sunwoo and throw a hand in the air as you walk. "I'm not doing this with you!"

"What? I'm wrong because it raises some interesting questions?"

You wish you could keep walking away from this, let it lie precisely where it is and allow Sunwoo to stew in whatever bizarre jealousy he seems to be wading in. However, you stop, and with your back still turned to him you say, "And what questions are those?"

"Like, what's the difference between him, and me? You've been jumping through all these hoops to make sure nobody ever finds out about us but Juyeon is perfectly up for grabs? He's an idol too, you know, and one exceptionally close to me in ways that wouldn't look as simple as you might think they would." Your head snaps back to look at him, and Sunwoo shrugs as if the gesture is meant to drive the point home. "He might not be me, but he's too close to not have to worry about what people might say, especially since at least some of our history is now common public knowledge," he says.

"It was a photoshoot," you say pointedly, desperate to reason with him and airy exasperation heavily laced through your words. You turn fully, somehow finding your way back towards Sunwoo in firm, serious steps. "A photoshoot. We all did it. You did it, too. I don't know what you think is happening but—"

"I was there, yeah, and I saw what I saw," Sunwoo interrupts. "We're close, you don't have to lie to me. You're interested."

You throw your hands into the air, the only way you can think to expel the excess energy from this conversation bubbling up inside of you.

"I guess! What do you want me to say? It was a photoshoot with a theme and I was paired with someone that I'm attracted to. The chemistry was there—sure—it doesn't mean anything, though. I'm not going after Juyeon." You take a pause to collect your thoughts, and the next thing that comes to you, you blurt out without the kind of consideration that it most certainly requires. "And besides, so what if I was?"

That piques Sunwoo's interest, because his eyes widen in a kind of shock that is less telling of his not expecting it, and more akin to that of someone surprised that a type of truth has finally come out.

"Right," he says, "You can just be honest."

"There's nothing to be honest about, nothing is happening."

"Yet."

The anger that you feel starts to become unbearable, along with the continued dancing around a subject that is obviously, in some way, tormenting the both of you. Somehow, somewhere along the way, something had changed and you'd apparently not had your wits about you in the necessary ways to notice it. You get it, you've been busy, but the lingering sense of you missing a rather large piece of this puzzle that exists between you and Sunwoo has now reached its limitations, and with a deep inhale, you allow all of the acting, all of the shrouded veil that's meant to stand between yours and his relationship and plainly say: "What happened? I thought we were both on the same page about this."

The next couple of moments linger between you two in silence, a matched gaze that never shifts away as if either of you are waiting for the other to break. Eventually, Sunwoo huffs a laugh and shakes his head. You easily recognize it as disbelief.

"Were we on the same page, or did you just write the page?"

Sunwoo isn't a planner, and is hardly even that of a rule-follower. The reply released something of a floodgate of history and conversations shared between the two of you in your months as friends leading up to your trainee period, and you wrack your brain for the moments in which Sunwoo himself laid out the terms and conditions for which the two of you are meant to abide.

But all that comes to memory is them being laid out by you.

"It's always just been about you, and what you want, and what you think is best for the both of us navigating this," Sunwoo says. "And you know, admittedly, that's probably for the best in reality. I accept that, that's why I've always just been happy to go along with it because hell, I'm not really in the market for potentially blowing up my career, either."

Chest tight and heavy, you watch Sunwoo as he gently admits to this fact, as well as the underlying admittance that you are now left to believe lies buried deep underneath it. A rule you decided upon, a conclusion that you had forced yourself to remain held strongly to: Kim Sunwoo is firmly and decisively off the table.

Regardless of how much you may have wanted otherwise.

He gives a noncommittal shrug, lifeless in its effort and then says, "I've seen how women get around Juyeon, I get it. And you know what? He's great. But…" Sunwoo's voice drifts away for a bit, as does his eyes from you before eventually returning and continuing on to say, "It's not that different. It'll be the same kind of headache in the long run. Maybe you think it'll be better—easier—just on account of him not being me, but it won't."

Your heart pounds in your chest, nearly dizzyingly aware of what this means for your future and your past. Everything from then leading up until this very moment now must be viewed through an entirely different hue. All of those meetings; every smile, every shared secret, and every gentle offering of physical affection—though few and far between—now uncovered to be the one thing that…

You had sort of always really hoped for.

But more than anything else, this fucking frightens you, and as a result the only thing you can say in response to it under the warm hallway lights and Sunwoo's expectant, hopeful gaze is: "The history makes it different. You'll look…"

"Like an idol who preys on his fans, I know, I get it," Sunwoo says, though there's little care in his voice for the fact. "I've sat with that for a long time, I've had no other option than to do just that, but what am I supposed to do? Just…"

There's another pass of silence between you.

"Do nothing? Pretend forever? Hope it goes away even though from here on out I'm going to have to see you even more, probably work together even more." He chuckles under his breath, turning his head away as if the next thought is utterly comical to him and says, "Watch you date my bandmate, then pretend I don't care about that, either?"

"You've really got to let this Juyeon thing go," you say, lightly joking in an attempt to bring up the mood.

"What I'm saying is there's no path of least resistance here for me. All of the options are shit, so I figure if they're all shit then…"

Sunwoo's hand finds the sleeve of your jacket, and before your wits are able to find you, your back is pressed into the wall that previously stood right beside you. Your breath catches in your throat, unwilling to release a breath in fear that doing so may break the immersion of this single, brief moment in time. The skin across your arm crawls, the little hairs raising from the light, tantalizing feeling of foreign fingertips ghosting across your jawline. His body boxes you in place, warm breath feathering ragged and stuttering over the flesh of your face, and when you're finally capable of gathering yourself enough to take in the sight of Sunwoo's face so close to your own; his eyes fall from yours, to your mouth. Those fingertips at your jaw smooth down to your neck, the other hand holding firmly at your waist in a way that he has never touched you before—as if unwilling to ever let go—and it feels like fire being pressed against your skin.

His lips take yours, and the kiss is confident and sure in ways you cannot begin to fathom. Sunwoo does not waver, does not shy away from gentle nips of teeth into your bottom lip, or the way that he quickly takes more once your head cocks, your mouth parts, and you invite him to take even more.

This feels right, and yet, it cannot ever happen again.

end of act 1! happy to hear if you're enjoying it thus far 🩵