#i say like i'm not the direct cause of his constant suffering

[shizuturnspages]

HII I'm the anon who sent the darling who isn't from teyvat request!! I hope u don't mind me request because ur writings are just chef kiss! :3 i don't have a specific request but can i have a darling who's generally clingy or dependant on them emotionally with Ororon, kinich, and xiao? feel free if u still wanna do the outsider darling!! no need to rush :3

Of course! I'm not doing the outsider darling specifically, but rather as a neutral clingy darling

Ororon

Ororon thrives on being needed, and having a darling who’s emotionally dependent on him makes him absolutely euphoric. He’s always had this primal urge to protect, and your reliance on him feeds directly into his instincts.

❥ Overwhelming Presence: Ororon never leaves your side. He’s always there—whether you want him to be or not. If you even hint at feeling upset or unsure, he’ll be there in an instant, wrapping you in his arms and growling at anything or anyone that dares to make you feel uneasy. “I’ll handle it. You don’t need to worry about anything, ever.”

❥ Possessive Tendencies: Your emotional dependency makes him feel indispensable, but it also makes him paranoid. If anyone else tries to comfort you or be there for you, Ororon sees it as a direct threat. He doesn’t say anything to you about it, but the person in question might mysteriously disappear or suffer an “accident.”

❥ Reassuring Manipulation: Ororon uses your emotional neediness to keep you close. He’s constantly telling you that no one else understands you the way he does. “You don’t need anyone else, darling. Just stay with me, and I’ll take care of everything.”

“I like that you need me. It makes it easier to keep you safe. Don’t ever change.”

Kinich

Kinich sees your emotional dependency as a perfect way to bind you to him permanently. He’s already a schemer by nature, so your need for comfort and reassurance gives him endless opportunities to solidify his place in your life.

❥ Emotional Anchor: Kinich is always there to lend a listening ear or a comforting hand, but it’s never entirely selfless. He subtly reinforces the idea that he’s the only one who truly understands you. “No one else could possibly know you the way I do. Trust me; I’ll never let you down.”

❥ Subtle Isolation: Kinich makes it so that you don’t feel like you can depend on anyone else. He’ll plant little seeds of doubt about others in your life, all while positioning himself as the only constant you can rely on. “They don’t seem to care about you as much as I do. Have you noticed that?”

❥ Protective Scheming: If you ever express discomfort or sadness, Kinich is quick to fix the problem—his way. Whether it’s orchestrating a confrontation or quietly sabotaging someone who’s hurt you, he handles it all behind the scenes. You’ll never even realize the lengths he’s gone to just to see you smile.

“You’re so dependent on me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You belong right here, with me.”

Xiao

Xiao isn’t great at handling emotions, so when you become emotionally dependent on him, he’s a mix of overwhelmed and secretly touched. He’s spent so long keeping his distance from mortals, and now here you are, completely reliant on him—it’s a combination of terrifying and intoxicating.

❥ Protective to the Extreme: Xiao takes your emotional dependency very seriously. He sees it as his duty to protect you from everything, including your own feelings of sadness or fear. If he could, he’d take on all your pain himself. “You don’t need to feel this way. I’ll make it better. Just… don’t leave.”

❥ Awkward Comfort: Xiao struggles with words, but he tries his best to comfort you in his own way. He’ll stay close, offer quiet reassurances, and eliminate any external threats that might be causing you distress. “I may not know how to help, but I won’t let anything hurt you.”

❥ Devotion Turned Obsession: Your dependence on him becomes his everything. Xiao starts to see himself as your sole protector, the one thing keeping you grounded in this world. His protective instincts quickly spiral into possessiveness, and he’ll grow angry if anyone else tries to take on his role.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay. As long as you need me, I’ll stay. Even if you don't, I'll still be here.”

[sgojoenthusiast]

needy.

✧.* miguel o’hara x reader

summary:

miguel is suffering with the side effects of his vampirism: the insatiable hunger. you, a doctor, will stop at nothing to help him, no matter what. it’s your job, afterall.

cw: smut, biting, lowkey vampire sex, rough, i didnt do amazing in my gcse spanish course so i’m sorry for the rough attempt at miguel speaking spanish LMAO, hardly proof read mb, bit of oral (f receiving), mentions of blood, pain and injury. fem reader.

word count: 2.1k

likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

-`♡´-

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t resist. His brain felt like it was begging to break out of his skull. Everything hurt, but it wasn’t the kind of pain he could turn to you for help with.

It was the kind of pain that stemmed from the unfortunate bite all those years ago. A pain that derived from a never-ending hunger within him, resulting in constant hunger and sharpened fangs.

“Miguel, how many times do I have to say it? It’s my job. It’s what I'm paid to do! Just let me help you and we can-”

“No.” he cut you off sharply. When he had hired you after a particularly nasty fight that ended in a lot of spidermen injured but there was a lack of medics to help, he didn’t realise everything you did or said would have so much of an affect on him. If he had known, he would’ve never even looked in your direction because, god, you were intoxicating. “No puedo más, mierda. [i can’t anymore, fuck]. You can’t help me, okay? Just go home.” He seethed.

He wasn’t angry with you, never you. He was angry at how he had to turn your sweet words and caring touch away just because he couldn’t risk hurting you.

“You’re so frustrating, Miguel. you never let me help you.” He stood with his back to you, because he knew that if he looked behind him and saw you standing with your arms folded, a cute pout on your lips and the smooth skin of your neck on display, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back anymore.

If he ever came close to hurting you, even if somehow the domino effect of something he did led to you getting injured, he would never forgive himself for as long as he lived. You were only human, you weren’t a spider like the rest of them. You were fragile, and couldn’t protect yourself as well as you could save others. 

“You should know by now I won't stop until I get what I want.” you began walking up behind him. “You’re clearly struggling with something. your breathing is heavy, you haven’t been walking or talking properly since you came back from your mission.” a sudden realisation popped into your brain. “You didn’t hit your head on your mission today, did you? Miguel- you told me there wasn’t a scratch on you, I can’t help you if you’re lying to me.”

Finally, he turned around to face you, his head hung low but he could see every inch of your perfect body. No longer could he restrain himself from the all-consuming thirst he felt as he flashed his fangs and suddenly appeared in front of you, pinning you against the wall.  “No quiero ayuda. [I don't want your help]. I just want it to stop.”

You tilted your head up at him. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in your eyes despite your position and he felt his heart stop. “You aren’t scared?” He breathed out. His eyes were wide and red. His heart was beating increasingly fast and his throat was getting dry.

He was so used to being the one people would cower around. Yet with you, you always seemed to defy his expectations. He stood in front of you, restraining himself from killing you, and yet you had barely even blinked.

You moved your hair out of the way of your neck, causing him to try and push himself away from you but you grabbed his wrist before he could. “It’s my job to help you. That’s why I'm here. So let me help you.”

He found it so hard to disobey you when you looked up at him so gently. Yet it was that look that reminded him of his affection towards you and made him shake his head profusely in denial. He refused to hurt you, even when you asked him to.

You pulled him by his wrist, closer to you, tempting him in as he complied thoughtlessly. His mind was reeling with the thought that it was your hand touching his wrist. It was your hand that slowly traced up his back and it was your fingers that threaded through his hair at that moment. Slowly, you guided his head down towards your open neck as every doubt inside his mind froze against his will. All of his morals disappeared. Everything he stood by, his dedication to protecting you, gone within a minute of you delicately caressing him.

“Please, Miguel, let me help you.”

When you pleaded with him so innocently, when your words slipped so tenderly from your pretty lips, he could no longer hold himself back. The shackles he’d chained himself to for so long, the restraints he’d built with his bare hands, crumbled like castles.

His sharp fangs sunk themselves into the crook of your neck and you whimpered slightly in pain, biting your lip.

Miguel lost himself in the taste of you as he forced you up harder against the wall. Still, it wasn’t enough. He needed his entire body against yours. He grabbed your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he continued to slowly suck the blood from your neck.

His hands pawed against you and massaged your hips. You felt yourself growing increasingly more wet at the feeling of him pressed up so close against you with his lips against your neck.

Somehow, the pain faded as you got used to it and all you could feel was the sensation you got as he ground himself against you, overpowered with need and moaning into your neck.

His head was spinning as his blood pumped vigorously. He’d never experienced such a high, such an addictive drug that devoured him whole and swallowed him completely.

You could feel how much he needed this. The feeling of peace and pleasure overshadowed the one of pain, yet, as you felt yourself go faint, you began to shake yourself out of the trance his lips against your neck put you in. In an odd way, you’d let him drink from you forever if it meant the feeling of his skin against yours.

You tapped his waist, urging him off you as he withdrew.

You placed your hand against your neck as a sudden pang of soreness washed over you. However, the sight before you was one you’d never forget as you looked up to meet his eyes. His lips stained with your blood before he wiped it away sent a strange sensation down your back as you closed your legs.

“Thank you, mi dulce niña. [my sweet girl].” he took your face between his thumb and index finger. Your faces were unbearably close. The desire to taste your own blood on his lips consumed you as your eyes flickered between his and his lips.

You stood against the wall of the empty hallway to his room in silence, your bodies begging for each other yet your mouths too shy to make it known.

Instead, he opted for silently taking you down the dimly lit corridor to his room, his fingers intertwined with yours.

The second his door closed, your back was against it. His lips finally pressed against yours as you sighed in contentment. Once again, your leg was hiked up as he caressed the supple skin of your thigh.

A rough yet gentle hand made its way up to your face as he ran his thumb up and down against your cheek. “I need you so bad. You don’t know what you’ve done to me. Everyday, I think about you. Your lips, your voice, your smile, your hips. I can’t fucking get enough of you and it kills me that I cant physically be as close to you as I want to be.” he murmured against your lips whilst you breathed shaky breaths against his.

You didn’t know what to say, or how to put your feelings into words because he had already summed it up so perfectly for you. “I can’t get enough of you either.”

He carried you to the bed and placed you down, his touch never once leaving your skin except to take his suit off.

Your hand ran across the scars of his chest, some you had fixed up yourself, up to his neck where you pulled him against you once more. He struggled to get your uniform off quickly with the continuous kiss and lack of sense as the thought of you naked beneath him fogged up his mind.

Miguel broke the kiss, and the sight of you with your hair splayed out across the mattress, skin glistening and your eyes half-lidded with lust had him weak in the knees as his dick grew harder against your thigh.

The moonlight peaked out past the gaps of his curtains, highlighting your frame and making him desperate.

He began to kiss down your body, leaving marks across your collarbone where he would occasionally bite.

He sucked and licked your nipples gently as you writhed beneath his touch, desperately yearning for more of his rough touch.

“I need you, miguel.”

“Patient now, mi dulce niña. [my sweet girl]” he replied, looking up at you from between your legs as he slowly began kissing down towards where you needed him so badly. He stroked your thighs and nipped at them harshly, yet the pain merged so beautifully with the pleasure that it all became one big blur.

He asked you to be patient, but after so long of longing stares and discreet touches, being patient was the last thing on your mind as you bucked your hips up, itching for his touch.

“Niña mala [bad girl]. What did I just tell you?” he snarled.

“Please, Miguel, I'm begging you. I’ve waited so long- I can’t be patient anymore.” you pleaded with him. It seemed to be enough to convince him as he brought your hips up to his face and flicked his tongue skillfully against your pussy as you gasped surprisingly.

He moved his tongue rhythmically, snatching pleas and moans from your lips. It wasn’t too long before he slid in one of his fingers... then another. He thrusted them inside you relentlessly, praising you for taking what he was giving you without another complaint.

His tongue and his fingers combined clouded your senses and made you feel as though nothing - no one - would ever come close to satisfying you so well. However, just as you clenched around him, he pulled out. You whined and cried for him to stop playing around, but he simply ignored you.

Miguel needed to feel you come around his dick if you were going to come anywhere. He needed you both to finish together. He craved the feeling of your bodies merging together in that haze of relief and exhaustion before he pulled out.

He moved back up to your face and your eyes locked; a feeling rushed over you that made your heart swell. You don’t think you could ever get enough of him.

He grabbed his painfully hard dick, stroking it against your folds. You bucked against him hopelessly. Luckily, he took the hint and slid himself somewhat smoothly inside of you, though the pain of the stretch was inevitable.

Your hands immediately went to his back, gripping on as if it would save you. Miguel groaned at the pain as he pulled back slightly and thrusted harshly back in.

He noticed the bite marks on your neck, and the blood that still gradually fell from it due to the lack of treatment. He leaned down, licking the blood up and moaning as he pounded himself into you savagely.

Everything was overwhelming. The feeling of him licking and sucking the blood from your neck, the pain of your hands clawing down his back, the unrelenting pummelling inside of you and the sounds of skin against skin and voices intertwining in the air.

It sent you both spiralling.

“ ‘m g’nna- come, Miguel.” you heaved out.

His hand trailed down to your aching pussy as he slid a finger against your clit and began rubbing viciously. Your moans dominated the room at the extra pleasure as you began to slip from your control.

“Come with me.” he demanded as he hammered inside of you without any remorse.

It was everything you had both dreamed it would be and more. The feeling of letting go together shook you both as you clenched around him, sucking him in, and as he shot his load inside of you.

You both lay there for what felt like an eternity of comfort and serenity. Your bodies pressed up against each other with your eyes closed, just soaking up the moment without any anxieties or thoughts.

However, to your dismay, Miguel pulled back. He took your face in his palm again, marvelling at your vulnerable state. He would be the only one to see you like this.

He placed his forehead against yours as your breaths became synchronised along with your heartbeats, creating the sound of peace and belonging.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: read the extra here.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟsgojoenthusiast

[hwajin]

✞ 「 .✶۪ .° ✞ : 𝐇 𝐈 — 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐄 !! : a series

☆ — chapter three; Touch Me, I'm Sick :

✞ 「 .✶۪ : see series masterlist and general warnings here

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter word count: 16.3k

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter warnings: lots of angst, smut (nothing crazy, protected sex and making out, etc.), cheating!!!

author's note: losing motivation for this AS WE SPEAK but this is my fav chapter i've written so far!!!! i hope you enjoy <333

It was the middle of August, but Han felt almost cold when he awoke – his blanket had fallen to the floor throughout the night, leaving him with a lack of protection and a vulnerability so sudden he shivered, despite the warm morning. It could have been the tiredness, causing his bones to feel like icicles – he hadn’t slept well at night. He had barely slept at all, if he was brutally honest. He had come home the previous evening, ashamed and torn apart, in two, to a house dark and quiet. Initially, he had wondered if you’d come home at all after storming out of rehearsals, or if you were staying over at a friend’s house – he wouldn’t have been able to blame you. But then he had caught a glimpse of your keys in the little bowl by the kitchen counter, bought by you at a flea market for less than it had been worth, and your old, dirty shoes carelessly discarded on the way to your room – closed, shut off from him. He hadn’t dared to knock, hadn’t even come close to the door. Instead, he had locked himself in his own room, had left the lights off. He had sat on his bed, soft cushions beneath him granting comfort he hadn’t believed to deserve – and he had felt a tear running down his cheek, then another. He hadn’t dared sob, had cried silently. He had been missing something, last night, something crucial, and he had felt it in every fibre of his body. The house too dark, too quiet. Your absence, your silence – it had been nagging on him, still was, the next morning. Your coldness, albeit an understood one, and the pain his own foolishness had caused had been horrible company for him, two guests he hadn’t welcomed yet couldn’t seem to get rid of. So he had sat with them, had entertained them – had let them entertain him.

Han hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his words during practice ever since he had uttered them – all of them. Everything he had said the previous day had been painful, directed to hurt you, stemming from a place of hate, or jealousy, or pure and immature confusion. Like a kid, saying something it doesn’t mean, merely because it doesn’t have any other words yet, because it doesn’t understand. Han didn’t feel too different from that – a kid, naïve, dumb. Lacking knowledge, about everything, it seemed. About himself, about friendship, emotion. About love, perhaps; he felt as though he knew nothing. And in his inanity, he had hurt you. You and himself, both – because both of you bled the same, both of you suffered if one of you did.

He had thought about it the entire night. What if it was irreversible? What if he had screwed up for good, with no chance of reparation? What if that was it – what if the two of you would never be the same anymore? He had remembered, last night, your sudden beauty – or his sudden realization of it. It still estranged him, the next morning. And it angered him, too – he had greater problems to think about, why was your face, detailed and pretty in the way it looked, a constant, reoccurring memory? He’d had all the hours in the night to understand and make sense of it, and still it hadn’t been enough – he was as clueless about it as he had been the previous day, in the studio. You had been beautiful – you were beautiful. Nothing strange, per se; of course you were. He had always known, really, if he thought about it. You had always been pretty, and while he couldn’t deny it, he couldn’t remember ever caring for it; not truly. You were pretty, had always been – but there had been something potent, something charged when he had noticed it yesterday, in particular. When he had looked at you, and had felt as though your beauty had had the ability to knock him over; and you hadn’t looked much different than usually, in the first place. A tad more dressed up, maybe – but Han, over the hours of the night, had started to doubt that it had been your exterior which had caught him so very off guard, altogether. Ironic, he was aware, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe the very and only reason for his enlightenment was the fact that you had been, simply, dressed up – or maybe it had been your eyes, the air all around you, an aura you carried. An aura he had only then noticed, something about you suddenly so palpable he hadn’t been sure what to do with it, had been scared of it. Maybe that was the reason he had been so mean – because he hadn’t known what else to do with himself.

Had Han only noticed now, though? This apparent aura, this beauty? What if he had felt this way before, just never had had a reason to act on it – then again, what was it exactly he was feeling? It couldn’t be a crush – he’s had crushes before, and he’d argue they felt different to whatever it was that made his heart expand to measures so uncomfortable in his chest he feared to pop on the inside, like a balloon blown up too eagerly.

What was it then, if not a crush – if not love? He didn’t quite feel like the people they made films about and wrote songs for. He didn’t feel butterflies in the pit of his stomach; it was something purer, something scarier. A feeling deep and tremendous – like hot embers, daring to turn into fire if ignited, with no water in proximity to extinguish it. That’s what he felt when he thought about you – danger waiting to come, hiding yet but deadly if lured out of its’ den.  

Han realized that you were gone when he started to get ready. On his way to the bathroom, he noticed your missing shoes which he hadn’t picked up last night, had left them laying where they did. Your keys were gone, too – he wasn’t used to quiet mornings, and the missing piece within him gaped open anew. He ate his breakfast beaten, miserable, left it unfinished. He dressed carelessly, tried to tidy his mess of hair – his roots were grown out black, he needed a touch up, he was starting to look ridiculous. Questioning if he should simply dye his hair black altogether, to save himself – and you, his designated hair stylist – the time and effort he left the house, a little too late for his first period, but in time for the first rehearsal. To say he dreaded it wasn’t only an understatement; it bordered on absurdity.

When Han stood before the studio door, he didn’t open it for what felt an eternity. Cigarette in hand, he pulled on it again and again, inhaling the husky smoke to calm his nerves before facing you. For a second, he hurt, sharply – the very thought alone that speaking to you, looking you in the eye would be burdensome was like a dagger through him, and he shook off the feeling momentarily. Then a greater pain shot through his veins – the very reason he dreaded seeing you was himself. Han was long past the point of trying to blame you for any jealousy or frustration he was feeling; he could be as little a fan of Chris as he was, he hadn’t had the right to talk to you the way he had yesterday. There was no shifting the blame, no perspectives; he alone was at fault for the icy atmosphere which he felt from outside the studio. You were iced up, cold, and he didn’t have to see you to know it, to feel it through the soundproof walls.

Han pulled on his cigarette one last time, letting the smoke infiltrate his lungs long and deep, sharply making its’ way through his blood, before he threw it on the ground to grind it under his heel. He took another, clean breath; and opened the heavy door to the college studio. The soft sound of your guitar welcomed him, though it didn’t relax him this time around, not the way it normally did. His body tensed up, and he faltered in his movements before he found his step again. You must have heard the click of the door and his heavy boots against the carpeted floor, the jingles of the pins and chains on his bag when he entered, because you looked up even before he said a word – and your eyes instantly lost his again, before he even had the chance to greet you. And though your eyes lasted on his ones only for a second, he saw the pain in them. Short-lived, before your exterior seemed to emanate anger. Your ears painted red, your body visibly tensed, and an uncomfortable silence fell upon the room. Han couldn’t blame you for the discomfort he felt, and shivered in his place.

“Hi.”

His attempt was miserable, his voice more so – flimsy and thin, raspy from the smoke he’s had. He fell into a coughing fit right after; the embarrassment drowned his face in red, the fact you didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t look his direction let alone return his shy greeting made him want to dig his own grave and lie in it. It would be a longer hour than he had anticipated.

Thankfully, the room emitted in noise in no time, after Han had disposed his bag and busied himself with tuning his guitar, on his spot behind you. He could tell that you were purposefully avoiding his figure behind you – your body was turned to face away from him completely, mic-stand more to the left than it usually was, and your gaze fixed upon the strings of your instrument. Focused, determined to let Han shiver until you’ve warmed up to him again. If you ever would, that is.

The others came in, though there was something palpably lacking about the usual mood they brought to the place. Changbin and Jeongin were noisy, though the looks they shared upon seeing your back facing Han and neither of your reaction to their arrival spoke more than their conversation, and the mutual decision of skipping the pre-rehearsal smoke to get the hour over with spoke for itself. The coldness danced on their skin, covering them in ice and freezing showers, in vast contradict of the temperatures outside. It wasn’t in the law of physics for Jeongin to cover in geese flesh when he caught a glimpse of the way Han was staring holes into the back of your head, with an expression so miserable even the youngest felt bad for his friend. The distance between the two of you was as little the law of any sciences as the freezing feeling in the warmest month of summer – it went beyond logic that the two of you weren’t talking, weren’t even facing each other, went beyond all sense of the human mind that the other three felt true discomfort only looking at you two.

And the one-hour long rehearsal couldn’t have felt any longer, and couldn’t have been over any faster. No one spoke much unless it was necessary, talking music and songwriting, talking chords and harmonies above all else – strictly professional, as though your band of five was only that, a profession, lacking personal friendships within. Everyone felt the tension bubble on their skin, heavier on your bodies than the suffocating heat outside the studio, yet no one sacrificed themselves to mention it, to initiate a conversation to dissipate it all. Not because no one wanted to, but because no one was brave enough – and you scoffed when the rest of the band, left for you and Han, scurried to leave the two of you alone by the end of practice, packing their belongings so fast one might think their live depended on it. Even Lino felt the need to flee the scene as quick as possible; though less because he couldn’t take the uneasiness, more so because he hoped leaving you two in solitude would animate you to fix whatever seemed to be broken. Or attempt to, at the very least.

“Great friends.”, you mumbled under your breath, feeling betrayed none of them had had the balls enough to even talk to you, or Han, or to each other for that matter. You couldn’t blame them though, either – hell, you likely felt the most uncomfortable, so you understood why no one had uttered a single word throughout the hour before leaving silently.

You felt Han’s presence behind you as you undid your mic and unplugged your guitar. It felt unfamiliar, dreadful to not be talking to him, to not turn around and tell him about class and which parts of the new song you should be working on and about, admittedly, nothing all together. It was strange that you didn’t urge to visit the vending machine by the weeping willow, that you weren’t much craving a Coke; it was stranger, even, that you could barely recall the last time you had spent time with Han by said vending machine. It had been ages; or, longer than you normally went without the ritualic habit. The absence of it, of time spent together and words exchanged, shot a sudden pain through you – you almost wanted to forget the pain you had felt initially, yesterday after Han’s outburst, and pretend like nothing had happened at all. You almost wanted to forgive him without having heard an apology.

You turned around, guitar in hand, facing Han. He looked miserable. He looked like he regretted the entirety of yesterday – it made you feel better, if only little. There was no hint of remaining malice in his eyes, no contentiousness. You were glad of it. You had barely slept last night, had lain with tear-stained cheeks against your wettened pillow. You’d had enough time to think – and though your anger, your pain hadn’t dissipated magically, they had made place for tiredness. It had been too long since you’ve last felt truly careless in Han’s presence, the way you used to. It had been too long the two of you held grudges – you missed him. He had surely hurt you, though it hadn’t been the first time, nor were you an angel yourself. You would prefer an apology – though you would, after the anger dissolved only a little further, forgive him without one. Because it was easier than losing him altogether, over words, over a fight. That seemed foolish to you, and you cherished him too much for such immaturity.

“Hey…”, Han’s voice interrupted your train of thought, and you looked at him. His eyes were glassy, almost on the verge of tears but not quite. The bags under his eyes were deep, dark – he hadn’t slept much better either, you figured. He nibbled on his silver lip ring, visibly nervous, looking for words to say, or how to say them. He could barely look you in the eyes, and upon noticing that another sudden pain shot through you.

“You have lessons now? With… Chris?”

The name rolled over his lips only reluctantly – you wondered, quickly, if maybe there were remnants of malice in him, wondered how exactly the question was intended. He didn’t look like he meant to attack, but your brows furrowed, and your head cocked to the side, only a little. Han read you, suspected his question might reignite danger, and his eyes shot open, face writing worry.

“Uh, I don’t mean it like that. Like, in an asshole way. I’m really curious, I’m…”, his voice shaking, and his gaze was fixed on the dusty carpet beneath his shoes. The weight of his guitar pulled him down, made him heavy – he yet hadn’t put it away, feeling frozen in his place. “I’m really sorry, for yesterday. I was an ass.”

You barely heard him. He mumbled, embarrassment and a wave of shame overcoming him, but you heard him, nonetheless. And your heart beat against your rib cage in excitement, in relief. He apologized. He felt remorse, regret, and had been ready to make the first step, to hopefully repair what was temporarily broken.

“Yeah, you were.”

Your voice was weaker than you had expected. You stood face to face with your friend, waiting for him to look at you. You felt remnants of your own shame and anger still bubbling in the pit of your stomach, though you chose to ignore it. You chose to make space for Han instead, and it filled you with everything that was positive.

He looked at you, and you gave him a smile. A little sad, maybe, but kinder than Han had expected it – and he smiled back. Relief filled his eyes, too. Relief and hope; everything could be again as it once was. It wasn’t irreversible; your bond went deeper than that.

Finally, Han felt like he could move again. He threw the flimsy band over his head, relieving himself off the weight of his instrument. You made your way over to the sofa, where your discarded belongings lay. It took you a while to find your words – you would answer his question honestly, though not without nervousness. The subject had led to fights previously, after all – you didn’t want to lose everything the moment you’ve won it back.

“Uh, yeah… I am meeting Chris now.” The words came quiet, almost creeping. They seeped into the room and stayed there, a puddle of gasoline, and you were the lighters. You didn’t say any more, packed your stuff and threw your bag over your shoulder, looked at Han. His eyes didn’t find yours, though – he pretended to be busy, though you sensed that he was fleeing from your gaze purposefully. That he was dancing around the puddle of gasoline, careful not to cause fire.

“Ah… that’s nice. I hope you, uh, have fun with him today.”

He looked at you, eventually, smiling a tortured smile, packing his things without awaiting an answer. Not that you had one – you were glad your admission about the teacher hadn’t caused another outburst, but the unexplainable misery in Han’s eyes was almost harder to bare. The misery, and his decision to remain silent about it. You watched your friend throw his chained-up bag over his shoulder, watched him fish for the half-empty pack of cigarettes in his pocket, take out one. He put it between his lips, gave you another smile; you weren’t sure he meant it.

“I’ll see you later, then.”

☆.☆.☆

When Han opened the door to your shared apartment, he was overwhelmed by the scent of food, onions and meat, the sound of sizzling oil in a pan. There was faint music playing in the kitchen, and utensils clinking together to create a cacophony of one busying themselves with lunch. Han disposed his shoes in the hallway, lost his bag along the way, and was met with Lino, apron on and a mess around him, humming to the song he had put on. Han wasn’t surprised, per se – Lino was officially living on campus, having moved here specifically for Uni, but in reality he was living wherever he just wanted. He was in possession of the keys to both your and Han’s, and Changbin’s and Jeongin’s shared apartments, and since both weren’t necessarily meant for two people only and could fit more, it wasn’t a rarity that Lino was living for weeks at a time in either of your places. There were phases, though, where neither you or Han, nor the other two knew his current place of accommodation – if he settled on campus or slept over at one-night stands none of you were sure, nor had had the privilege of knowing, even after asking.

When the older heard shuffling behind him he turned around, facing Han and giving him a quick, welcoming smile.

“Set the table, I’m almost done.”

It wasn’t five minutes later when the two sat across from each other by the kitchen table, steaming dish before them and a hungry roaring in their stomachs. Han thanked Lino before digging in, stuffing his mouth – there was something lingering in his eyes that spoke of melancholy, something incredibly sad. Something Lino could read, and had been long aware of.

“So,”, the older started, taking a bite from the food he’s prepared, inspecting his friend. He watched him find his eyes, expectantly questioning.

“You’re in love with Y/N.”

Not a question, a statement – and the younger fell into a fit of coughing, a piece of rice stuck in his throat causing his face to run red, a hand on his chest to calm himself. He succeeded only after a minute or two; Lino had only watched him all the while, eating away at his own portion, the very calmness in person. Han cleared his throat, once, two times, collecting enough composure to lock eyes with his friend again. Somehow, it was far harder telling a lie than he’d expected it to be.

“I’m… I’m not.”

He didn’t even convince himself with the three words, and he knew Lino was too smart to believe him. Yet he didn’t reconcile his confession, dumbly waited for an answer, hoped that, if he lied well enough, truth would be changed, and Lino would believe it.

Lino looked at him, an expression so unreadable it sent a shiver down Han’s back. The younger’s cutlery laid next to his plate on the table, few pieces of rice marring the furniture though Han didn’t care about the mess while his whole body was ready to defend himself, or to deny any accusation thrown towards him. Yet Lino only looked at him, poked away in his food – he either knew more than Han could hope, or he was in the midst of figuring him out. Han, in the damning silence, almost spilled his guts, then and there, animated only by Lino’s knowing eyes, his unwavering gaze; if the older hadn’t started speaking, after all.

“You know, you don’t have to lie. I’ve suspected it for a while. But I’m about a hundred percent sure since the whole… situation yesterday.”

There is no embarrassment when Han finds the other’s eyes, no shame in his silent confession. There is anguish, hurt. Spent liberation. As though he had waited for someone to get behind his sinful secret, as though the exhaustion of carrying it around had been weighing on his shoulders. As though only through speaking out the words they became true, to Lino as much as to himself – he might have known it was love before, though had never dared to accept it. Only now that the word was out, materialized and palpable, was it real.

You both had been seven years old, you and Han. You had only moved into his neighbourhood a week ago, and he had been curious about the new girl next door – though cowardly. He had only ever inspected you, questioning eyes lurking over when you were playing in your garden, or riding your bike around the streets in front of your house. He had never said a word though. He had been a shy kid, not quiet but timid around new people – and then you had come up to him. One summer day, he had sat on the sidewalk in front of his house, colouring the asphalt absentmindedly with chalk his parents had bought him that day. Most of his friends had left with their families for vacation, though his had stayed at home; and so had yours.

He had heard you before he had seen you. Your bell-like laughter had broken through the pleasant silence Han had found himself in, and the sound intensified in volume when the front door to your house had been opened. He had heard your mom call after you, something about being careful, though you hadn’t been listening anymore. Han had watched you get your bike – it hadn’t been pink, blue instead, a bike for boys; for some reason he had remembered that fact. Maybe because you had been the only girl he’d known not riding a pink bike, or maybe back then, already, every little detail about you had been fascinating, worthy to keep in his memories forever.

Han had neglected the yellow butterfly he had been painting onto the pavement, had watched you ride up and down the neighbourhood – until your eyes had fallen upon him. He had felt caught, and had looked away quickly; but you had stood before him in a matter of seconds, sure and confident.

“What’s your name?”

You had always been direct, and back then it had irritated him, almost. He had looked up at you, still sitting on the border of the sidewalk, your figure shielding him from the sun. Your dress had been a bright red with scarlet hearts all over, and it had blinded him.

“Uh… Jisung.”

“I’m Y/N.”

You had held out a greeting hand – something you had picked up from your parents, the way adults greeted each other, and Han had been irritated by that, too. But he had shook your little hand, surprised at your firm hold – and ever since then the both of you had been inseparable. One summer had turned into a second and to a third, had turned into a lifetime – what had started only because your respective friends had been gone over the break had developed into a friendship dearer than anything, for the both of you.

It had been that same summer, when both of you were seven, that Han had fallen in love with you, for the very first time. Back then he hadn’t been sure about his feelings, hadn’t been sure what it was that had been brewing in the pit of his stomach, what it was that had been making him nervous whenever he had thought of you.

The sun had been daring to set, though neither you nor Han had wanted to go home yet. You had been on your blue bike for boys, he had been on his own one. You had raced each other – he had never won back then, though it had always hurt his pride enough to never give up on taking home first place. The finishing post had been a big tree a little down your block, and you had been a little before him – your hair in a loosened ponytail and blowing in the air behind you, your dress – the same, bright red one with the scarlet hearts, your favourite one back then – flowing in the wind hectically, your shoes almost losing home on your feet with every fast kick of the pedal you did. Maybe Han had fallen because he had been watching you – no matter the reason, though, he had found himself on the ground faster than he had been able to realize, than he had been able to even understand his situation. And the shock had made him cry. Not loudly, but thick tears had been running down his chubby cheeks as he sat beside his bike, kneecap red and bloody, hands dirty, hair dishevelled.

It had taken you a while to notice Han hadn’t been behind you anymore – it had taken you to reach the big tree and yell out that you won, when you had realized there had been no one to celebrate with you. You had snickered and teased Han about it when you had caught up with him again, though worry had been written all over your face when you had noticed the tears down his face. And though Han had been embarrassed, to cry in front of you, or to cry in general, or about the very fact that he had fallen from a bike at the age of seven, you hadn’t given him a chance to be ashamed for too long.

“Does it hurt?”

You had sat down next to him, had inspected the wound like a doctor. Serious and careful. Han had sniffed miserably, and nodded.

You had given him a smile, and had showed him your own knee. Very sure, very confident. You were determined to make him feel better. There had been a faint wound on your skin, almost a scar.

“Look, when yours is healed, we’re going to have the same one. It won’t hurt for much longer.”

You had hugged him, and his little heart had beaten faster in his little chest.

“Whenever I get hurt my mom gives me chocolate.”

Han had looked at you, not understanding the connotation. You had laughed at his questioning face, getting up, motioning him to follow you.

“If I tell her you got hurt you will get chocolate too, dummy.”

Lino had listened, had long finished the food on his plate. There was compassion in his eyes, pain for his friend. Han had been in love with you forever, and you weren’t in the slightest aware of it – or maybe you were, only didn’t want to quite accept the reality of it. Either way, both men understood, sitting across from each other, the sun burning into the apartment and lacing them in faint sheens of sweat, the scent of food still in the air, that you couldn’t be blamed for Han’s cracking heart, nor for the chilly atmosphere between you and your best friend. No one, quite frankly, could be blamed. Han’s heart had found home somewhere it shouldn’t have had, yours belonged nowhere. Maybe if it did, your crush on Chris would be easier to bare. Maybe if you loved another, Han could accept that you couldn’t love him – but there wasn’t another, and your heart yet wasn’t set on him. It hurt. The pain was stinging, the realization, sudden albeit expected, even more so. If Han could choose, he would stop loving you – even if Chris hadn’t been in the picture, his passionate heart would cause for problems that would risk your friendship. If he could choose, he’d choose not to love you – but he couldn’t, and his heart, heavy and weak and hurting, was beating for you.

Blissfully unaware of Han’s feelings, you felt yourself being pushed against the solid wood of Chris’s desk, the man’s hands firm on your hips. Your lips clashed against his anew and anew, and you found yourself floating at the feeling – to have him lick your bottom lip before he nibbled on it, to feel his wet tongue and his spit on your mouth, his quiet gasps which you swallowed whole; it felt a mere dream, and you basked in it.

You weren’t sure how it happened. You had entered the classroom, a little late and Chris had been waiting for you. He had looked impatient, and it had made you giddy. You had started the lesson – and then his lips had been on yours. Or yours had been on his; you recalled having initiated, but your memory could as well be fooling you. Though besides his growing erection against your thigh and his sweaty neck beneath your palms there were no thoughts playing in your mind, in general. You were focused on Chris fully – recalling when you had first seen him, when current reality had only been a fools’ fantasy. You smirked against his lips, and he felt it – his grip on your body tightened, his fingers dug further into your skin. You wondered if there’d be any marks of his touch the next day; you hoped so.

You smirked against Chris’s lips, your ass pressed against his table, his hot palms on your burning hips – he was a good kisser. A little too desperate, maybe, searching for your mouth with his eyes closed and sighing softly, as though kissing you was salvation itself. You didn’t mind it; you liked it. You liked feeling him wanting you, you liked his grip on your body, the way he pressed his own against you. Flush, chest to chest, so close it surprised you for a moment, even – was he searching for something in you? Was his marriage making him so unhappy that his only hope was a student who had crushed on him since her teenage years? You felt compassionate for a moment, leaned into his body, into the kiss which felt so potent with fervour that you, too, sighed into his mouth, let him eat up your sounds, eat them up with a hunger which had fermented for eternities.

And then all compassion was gone again – every further thought vanished again, when Chris groaned against you, pressed you a little further into the table, almost drawing pain. You leaned against it, back arching into him – and his hands snuck around your figure, to pick you up by your ass and seat you on the table behind you. It didn’t require him much strength, and you had practically been sitting on the furniture already, though the ease with which he had handled you knocked out any coherence of you. And it had all happened without the kiss breaking – his puffy lips still moved against your wet ones, both red and bloodshot, bitten and bruised up. You wondered, while you sat there with his body pressed against yours, if his wife would notice that – his lips, the bruises on them.

Your legs were spread open, and Chris possessed the ability now to move even closer to you. He found home between your thighs, and his erection – almost fully hard now, and the feeling mouth-watering – pressed against your core. The man emitted another groan, rolled his hips into yours, against your sex, the pressure so delicious you moaned out quietly – and suddenly it was all gone. His touch on your body, the heat on your skin he had caused, the wetness of his lips – all gone. There was no friction against your arousal anymore, and you almost let out a sound of protest when you saw Chris’s face. Blown out in lust and flushed, red by the cheeks and his neck, but worried, almost scared – regretful. He blinked excessively, as though assessing the last five minutes – and he breathed out in defeat, eyes losing yours and a hand of his found his hair, messed it up more than it was a mess already. You stayed sitting on the table, expecting – you knew what was coming, and you hoped you only imagined it. You hoped that in reality he was still kissing you, that in reality he wasn’t married and could give into you fully, that in reality there was no reason of parting ways after he’s realized his mistake.

“Fuck…”, his voice was hoarse, raspy in his throat. Your eyes fell onto where his pants had tightened over his middle – it looked uncomfortable, and he didn’t feel bad for having kissed you; he felt bad for having liked it. For having given into it, into you, and for having found pleasure in it.

He looked at you again, guilt written all over him. Brows furrowed, body tense.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I can’t…”

He couldn’t say any more. His voice fiddled out, at a loss for words, or unable to convey them. He had apologized to you, hadn’t damned you – to you it felt the same. He packed his stuff, suddenly – you still sat on the table, but he pretended as though you didn’t exist. He didn’t even give you a last look before he threw his bag over his shoulder, and left the classroom with a weak “I have to go.” – leaving you to sit on his table by yourself, heated up and suddenly forgotten, egged on and eventually neglected, and you couldn’t decide which felt more uncomfortable; the pool of unresolved wetness between your legs, or the feeling of quiet emptiness which slowly set in the depths of your heart.

☆.☆.☆

You had sunk into the deep cushions of the brown leather sofa, the material making you sweat more than you normally would, an empty can of Coke on the table in front of you. You had been nipping on Han’s root beer from time to time, so he had snatched it away from you and had placed it behind the armrest of the sofa he was leaning on, next to you. You both had consoles in your hands, a tiny Mario and a just revived Luigi jumping up and down on the tinier TV screen. The familiar video game music filled the air, the sounds of acquired items and Han’s protesting at another murder on his character making the studio feel homely, comfortable. You had missed this. You had missed spending time with Han, careless and genuine time. It had been far too long, and you basked in the heat and stuffiness of the room.

“You can’t just fucking throw me off the cliff?! That was my last life you asshole!”

You laughed while Han complained with a voice so whiny it only made you laugh harder, and he threw his console onto the space on the sofa in between you, defeated and angry. You would have felt bad for him, if your gameplay hadn’t been mere revenge – Han had been ruthless on you only ten minutes earlier, and it was time to get back at him.

“If you hadn’t fucked me over before we could’ve been a team now.”, you said with a shrug, purposefully avoiding the coins in the game to prevent Luigi to revive again, and Han complained about it, loudly, letting you know just how unfair you were.

He scoffed, just the pissed friend, reaching for his root beer and taking a good sip from it. He watched you skilfully mastering the level, passing the middle flag. He snickered whenever you let Mario almost die, ready to make fun of you, only for you to save yourself and make him fall silent in his seat again, pouty and mumbling protests.

He eyed you, from the side where he was sitting. You had come back from a private lesson, as you had said, when Han had already lounged in the studio. You hadn’t looked too cheerful, and Han hadn’t asked – he had almost wanted to hear how you had failed, how Chris had maybe rejected you, or similar such things. He had almost been spiteful, though he hadn’t dared, after all – not when the both of you only seemed to find each other again, when being around you wasn’t as painful anymore as it had been for the past week. When you, too, looked careless around him, as though truly enjoying yourself. And why shouldn’t you – Han had stopped being an ass, because he had finally figured out his feelings. It turned out if was far easier dealing with them if they were only understood.

You looked peaceful now, though there was something in your demeanour which Han couldn’t quite pinpoint. You seemed almost giddy, unable to really sit still. Constantly moving in your seat, leaning back or leaning forth, sighing frequently. Something must have happened when you had met Chris, and though Han wasn’t too keen on finding out, he felt as though needing to ask, after all.

“So…”, his voice quite secure, and he hoped he’d find the right words, the right tone to start a totally and truly laid-back conversation about a man you very badly wanted to fuck, and who he was so deeply jealous of. No risk in that, was it?

You eyed him quickly out of your peripheral, not distracting too much from your game – you were at 87 coins now, so you were careful not to collect anymore just to not give Han the chance to finish the level with you.

“How was it today? With… Chris.” The name always sounded strange out of Han’s mouth, like something that wasn’t supposed to be spoken aloud. You eyed him again, and Mario almost died on the screen – the sound of the console clicking turned more aggressive, more persistent, and Han hoped he hadn’t fucked up the peacefulness, now that you had restored it.

You let him wait with your answer. You stayed silent, seemed to be thinking about your words, or maybe about what to tell him exactly, in the first place. You finished the level, waited for the screen to go black before the overview appeared again.

“Eh, it was whatever.”, was all you said, then. The break you had taken to answer a simple question had been far too long for an answer so vast, and Han wondered if there’d be something more. He looked at you, the sound of Luigi reviving the only sound filling the room. You weren’t looking at him, focused on the screen, walking your characters over to the next level.

You were still wet. You sat in the cushions of the brown leather sofa, and you were wet, soaking your flimsy underwear – you had worn a pretty pair in case Chris had taken it further, and now it felt like a waste, and utterly stupid, on top of that. The pressure between your legs hadn’t subsided ever since Chris had ignited it there, and it was bothering you, deeply. You were frustrated. And not only due to the situation prior – you had been tethering on sexual frustration for the past year or so, you thought. Or for longer; it surely felt like a lifetime. It has, in fact, been ages since you’ve last experienced an orgasm that hasn’t been induced by your own eager fingers or a vibrating toy you acquired for far more money than you could really afford. And it, too, has been ages since you had been as worked up as you had been an hour back, engulfed entirely in Chris. In the fantasy of him, the same one you had been brewing on ever since he had made his sudden appearance a week ago.

Really, he had been unfair, had left you hot and bothered – your body was still aching for touch. For another body pressing up against your own. His, Chris’s, preferably. You recalled his callused hands – from working out, maybe – on your body, on your hips, pushing your top up until his skin teased your own. Until you were starting to get bare for him. He had wanted more, and he had wanted it fast – maybe to lose himself in it, maybe to not overthink it. But he had, eventually, and the result was a wet you, embarrassed as you sat next to your friend and watched his character die on the screen for the umpteenth time. As you thought about it, about the warmth between your legs, the way your jeans rubbed against your clit only subtly but far more than enough to remind you of your undying need, that any man would do to still your hunger. For a quick second, the thought shot through your head that maybe that was the only and single reason you were so keen on Chris – simply because he was a man you could fuck. The fact you had borne a crush for him and the fact you found him deadly attractive were maybe only bonus points, barely worth mentioning. You weren’t convinced by that thought yourself – you wouldn’t have gone the lengths you did in pursuing him, but then again, you had always been ambitious, set on the things you wanted.

You peeked at Han by your side – the bleach in his hair was dirty and long grown out, though he hadn’t yet asked you to dye it for him again. He played with his lip ring, concentrated, focused on the little TV screen – would he be down to fuck you? The thought had nestled in your head faster than you could react to it, and it surprised you how little you were turned off by the idea. Maybe you were ovulating – you didn’t have another reasonable explanation as to why the thought of fucking your best friend of years suddenly seemed like the best idea you had ever had.

You peeked at him again, silent in your secret thoughts, contemplating. He was complaining about his console, how the batteries must be running low because there was no way in hell his game was suddenly so bad. You knew that he acquired the sex drive of a teenage boy. You also knew that he didn’t scare away from casualties; and if anything, he was as sexually frustrated as you were. You couldn’t remember the last time he had brought someone over to your place, or had spent a night out without you being aware of his location. Maybe you should give it a try. Proposing wouldn’t hurt after all, would it?

You looked back at the TV screen. You played absentmindedly, tuning off the sounds of Han’s whining, startled at yourself. You weren’t scared of proposing casual sex. You weren’t even nervous – you ought to be far giddier about this. Deals like such made history in destroying friendships, at the very best complicating them – so why weren’t you nervous at all? Were you so sure he would agree? Or had the dread of the past years clouded your common sense so much that you couldn’t care, even if you wanted to?

“We should fuck.”

The words had left you faster than you had expected them to, and calmer, too. As though you had proposed to eat dinner together later – as though there wasn’t anything absurd about the three words whatsoever.

Han burst out in a fit of coughs, Luigi dying on the screen and the familiar jingle following sounded in your ears – a far more dramatic reaction than necessary, surely. It wasn’t like you had announced news of life and death. Simply casual sex – it wasn’t that absurd. That’s what you told yourself as you looked at him. Not expectantly. Almost as if you didn’t care at all.

“What??” He looked at you from the side, eyes big, unbelieving, mouth agape – he resembled a frightened animal.

“You heard me. We should fuck.”

In that moment, you should have regretted your words. When you look back at these three words you’ve uttered on a casual hot, summer day, they sound entirely wrong, and in retrospect, you shouldn’t have uttered them at all – you should have dealt with your frustration yourself, without dragging your best friend into it. You should have stayed quiet, or should have laughed it off as joke. Should have disregarded it, the moment you’d seen Han’s face, the expression laying in it – hopeful, frightened if maybe he heard wrong. Hopeful that he hadn’t; too hopeful for a best friend.

Though in this moment, as you looked him in the eyes, as you sat across from him with your console in hand and building up sweat in your neck, you didn’t. You didn’t retract your words, you didn’t even regret them. You let them sit and marinate in the room between you, and gave Han time to think them over – to hopefully answer them.

He looked at you, mouth open, then closed, then open again. He looked like a fish, wishful to speak though unable to. And he seemed to be unable to even several moments later. You almost urged to speak again, only to kill the heaving silence between you – and then his voice filled the room again.

“You mean like… now?”

It took you a couple seconds to grasp his question, and another five to start laughing, bell-like and loud. Han flinched in his seat at the unforeseen sound leaving your throat. He blushed, turned a crimson red. He felt uneasy, shy, nervous – anticipating. He had never dared to wish for you to speak those words, let alone mean them, and one could call him pathetic at the way his pants tightened around his middle at the sheer indication. At mere three words dripping like honey from your lips. Maybe he’d be better off to decline your offer – he wouldn’t last a second with your hands on him and end up embarrassing himself.

“No, you dumbass.”, you said after you collected yourself, still a giggle in your throat, and Han turned redder.

“Like, in general. Whenever we both feel like it.”

You eyed him from the side, and Han reached for his root beer clumsily, just to be doing something. Just to not look you in the eyes – they suddenly seemed too deep, too dangerous. The can was almost empty, though he pretended to take a bigger sip than he did.

He knew he’d say yes. And he knew that you knew as well – after all, it wasn’t a question you had asked him, it was a statement. You hadn’t asked if he wanted to fuck – you had simply said that you should. And Han wasn’t so sure about that. He knew he’d say yes, but he wasn’t convinced that fucking was anything the both of you should be doing. Not only had he been left in the dark about your motives with the preposition, he also wasn’t stupid; blinded, yes, but he knew exactly how friendships which got physical developed, and it was never a good outcome. And not only that – you had just found each other again, just came back to the way your friendship used to be, though far more sensitive, and changed after all. Han wasn’t so sure the both of you should be fucking, just after he’d realized the love he bore for you – and yet it was the very thing that made him say; ��Uh, yeah. I guess… I guess we should.” Because in that moment, it was his only chance. In that moment you didn’t propose love, you proposed sex – and if that’s what it took to get closer to you, in any way possible, he couldn’t say no, despite knowing the depravity of it.

Han put his empty root beer onto the table in front of him, next to your Coke. He felt your gaze on him, but he didn’t dare look at you – he took hold of his console again, watched you select the next level in your game. Casualty; the very thing you had proposed, so the very thing Han needed to master to not cause suspicion. Suspicion of his very not so causal heart which was daring to jump out his chest, suspicion of the profuse sweat which had started to build on his palms, causing the console to slip in his hands – suspicion of the very apparent, pathetic boner in his pants at the mere thought of the two of you getting physical. He was a lost cause.

You gave him a quick look, huffed out amusement through your nose. It was funny, how flustered he was. You clicked on the next level, waited for the game to start.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but like…”, the level started, and the two characters rushed to finish it; you were looking for the right words. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen you bring anyone home in ages, I haven’t been laid in ages, either. And us two being physical is way easier than me fucking…”, you thought about it a second, and visibly cringed at the thought, “I can’t even imagine fucking Innie casually.”, you said, and Han chuckled at that. You were relieved to hear the sound; he warmed up again. “Or the other two, for that matter.”, you continued. Han peeked at you, shortly, to read your expression – you were calm. You weren’t distraught by the possible negative consequences of a friends-with-benefits-arrangement at all; was it because you believed your friendship to be stronger than to break over sex? Or was it because you were aware, even if subconsciously, of Han’s crush on you, and knew he’d let you hurt him, knew he’d never decline, knew he’d always come back if it ended badly?

“So that’s that.”

The other members arrived just as Han and you were finishing up the last level – he had seemed incredibly distracted, though you couldn’t blame him. He seemed, nevertheless, still incredibly distracted when everyone had set up their instruments and stood ready to practice. He forgot his count in, he played the wrong notes, he messed up the rhythm. Han was too good in his craft to disregard his mistakes to simple tiredness, and no one believed him when he said so – friendly bickering followed, only for Han to shut everyone up, and continue rehearsing the set of songs.

He knew none of them were stupid. He also knew all of them had eyes in their skulls – though none of these factors could quite make him stop staring at you from his spot just behind you. The words you had said whirred as thoughts in his head. ‘We should fuck.’ ‘Us two being physical is way easier.’ ‘We. Should. Fuck.’  You wanted to fuck him. Han was aware it wasn’t much more to you than just that, casual sex, but you wanted to fuck him. Han was aware – or, he thought to be – that Mr. Bahng – Chris – wasn’t as easy a prey as you had hoped he would be, and only due to his unavailability you had chosen Han; chosen for the ease of your personal frustration, for your own search for fun, for something new, for pure risk. What Han didn’t know – would you drop him the moment Chris bit on? Would you forget about wanting to fuck your best friend if the man you had originally hunted for would finally give in? Would Han have even been in the picture altogether, if Chris hadn’t been?

Doubts upon doubts, and rightful ones, too – and yet Han couldn’t help but feel anticipation coursing his veins. His blood pumped faster in his body when he looked at you, when he let his eyes travel up and down your body, from the skin of your strong, bare shoulders, down to your exposed ankles, peeking through beneath the flared pants and the open leather plateaus you so adored. Your toenails were painted a dark red – it was a mystery to him why his heart started beating faster at that, at the view of your red toenails.

And he was embarrassed of it. Embarrassed that he couldn’t stop staring at the way your shirt hugged your waist so tight he could see the straps of your bra, embarrassed that he was the opposite from being casual about the entire affair – an affair which hasn’t even started. An affair which, as of now, was only an idea, mere words. An affair which embodied casualty – and Han was so very embarrassed that he was the furthest from it. Embarrassed that his face ran hot when he inspected the way your fingers worked on your guitar, with ease, thoughtlessly, your nails a matching red, how his pants tightened further the more he replayed your voice in his head – ‘We should fuck. We should fuck. We should –’

“Yo, what the fuck is wrong with you.”

Changbin’s voice tore Han out of his thoughts, and as everyone stopped playing their instruments, the studio erupted in high-pitched feedback. Everyone’s head turned to the guitarist, eyeing him questioningly – he fled your eyes, deep and mischievous, and looked at Changbin instead.

“What… what do you mean, nothing- nothing’s wrong.”

Han wasn’t stupid. He knew that he was far too distracted, that none of his concentration went into the current rehearsal. He understood Changbin’s furrowing brows and startled expression at his words, at his pretending to be dumb – how, after all, was he supposed to explain that the reason his fingers weren’t confident on the guitar today was because you, standing only two meters away from him, proposed to fuck him, the girl he found out to love only hours ago?

“’Nothing’s wrong’? Don’t bullshit me, why are you playing so bad today?”, Changbin replied, and Han cleared his throat at the words, hoping to hide the pang at his pride. “We have to prepare for the gig, so get your shit together.”, Changbin ended, agitated, though not angry, not really. And the older man was right – you had something to prepare for, and your routine was far from clean; if you wanted to make it anywhere as musicians outside your shabby college studio, Han couldn’t allow himself to be as distracted as he was. And not by you, on top of that – not only his best friend, but his band mate. Two reasons alone he should decline your offer to get physical; though he’d never dare.

“I’m not sure what the problem is exactly…”, Jeongin’s voice travelled the room, and heads turned his direction. The youngest sported an amused grin, and nodded towards Han – the man started blushing without knowing the reason he had caught attention, though he sensed it couldn’t be anything in his favour. “…but I can imagine it has something to do with the massive boner in his pants.”

Han couldn’t react fast enough before a round of snickering and teasing filled the room. Comments from Changbin and Jeongin filling his ears, quiet scoffs of amusement from Lino somewhere behind him – and worst of all, your knowing eyes. He couldn’t escape them any longer, nor did he want to; right now, they revealed themselves to be the safest haven in this room, against snarky comments and dirty smirks. Though your eyes, the expression in them, seductiveness or mocking he wasn’t sure, wasn’t any easier to handle. If anything, they made his heart beat faster in his chest, made his blood pump quicker – which wasn’t at all to his advantage this very moment.

Han shifted his guitar, making it cover the area everyone suddenly chose to focus on, making it cover his crotch with a face so crimson you giggled in your place. His brows furrowed, his movements grew clumsy – it was endearing to see him embarrassed, more endearing, even, watching him trying to cover it up.

“I don’t… stop looking at my dick, you fucking weirdos.”, he mumbled, making the rest erupt in more laughter than before. Han’s eyes caught onto yours again; you were laughing, too, and for a reason he couldn’t make up, Han wasn’t hurt by your amusement; he only grew hotter, shakier, giddier than before. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, in fact – he wanted to see your face while his misery made you giggle, while your gaze wandered him up and down, secretly knowing. Changbin’s and Jeongin’s stupid comments met his ears dull and soundless, he filtered them off before they met him; and then you winked at him. Secretly, only at him, without a word. You turned back to your instrument again, left him dumbfounded and staring; if he lost himself any more in you, he would have started drooling.

“C’mon boys, let’s continue practicing.”, you announced, making the rest quiet down in their snickering. Did you want to save Han from his embarrassment? He couldn’t tell; you weren’t granting him as much as a look now, turning your head to Jeongin instead. The man had a dirty grin on his face, his long, delicate fingers grazing the electric piano. Han remembered your words again, from before, while you were looking at the man – ‘I can’t even imagine fucking Jeongin casually.’. He was attractive, always in dark attire and with piercing eyes, tall and carrying himself with an ease few people had. He was confident, he was bringing girls home more nights than he wasn’t – fucking him would be easier, Han thought. He was easier, in the sense of causality. He didn’t have years and years of friendship with you to look back upon. He was noisy, yes, and loud, but Han doubted you’d mind that; and yet, you hadn’t chosen Jeongin. You had chosen him.

“You said it yourself, we have something to prepare for. So let’s fucking prepare for it.”

☆.☆.☆

“Min, are you coming with us today?”

The five of you started to wrap up the session, discarding your instruments wherever they belonged, sipping on some water for your throats, putting cigarettes between your lips to light outside. The drummer got up from his seat behind his still echoing drums, and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t looking at you, packing his stuff hurriedly – you knew that some days he went to extra-curricular evening classes to up his average, and judging by the speed with which he found himself by the door to the studio, leather bag thrown leisurely over his shoulder and a lighter by the cigarette between his teeth, he was on his way there.

“Nah, probably not. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left with a nod into the group, everyone seeing him off with a mumbled goodbye or a tired grunt – Han wondered if there was more to it. If Lino knew more than he let on, when it came to you and himself. That Lino knew more than even he knew – that Lino’s absence tonight was out of courtesy. Han fished for his lighter in his pocket, playing with the cigarette in his mouth, waiting for you by the door. He looked you up, then he looked you down, watching you joke around with the other two, slapping Changbin across his chest when the man retorted something smug, before you threw your old rucksack over your shoulder – he was probably overthinking it. All of it, he thought. Lino couldn’t possibly know about the proposition you had made Han an hour back, his absence wasn’t credited to courtesy, simply to his usual whiffs of randomness. Nor could the others know; their jokes hadn’t been unusual, nor did they bear any clue about Han’s feelings for you. It was all in his head. That, and the nervousness he carried in his limbs while looking at you. You couldn’t possibly seem more relaxed while he was eyeing you, watching as you gave him a smile, as casual and kind as always, walking up towards him. It seemed, almost, as if you’ve forgotten about your previous plan, as if you’ve never actually asked Han the question altogether. He ought to calm down – it didn’t have to be as serious as he made it out to be; it surely wasn’t for you. Though, at that very thought, his smile faded only a little bit, and the heart in his chest felt only a little heavier.

“Let’s go.” Your voice was soft as you spoke to Han, louder when you bid goodbye to the other two before you opened the heavy door and made your way into the soaring heat outside. When Han lit his cigarette, you fished for a piece of gum and started chewing on it mindlessly. The white sun burned down on your skin, making the sheet of sweat on your bare chest shimmer, only slightly, like droplets of salty ocean water on soft sand. Your dyed hair heated at your neck, so you put it into a lazy ponytail – Han couldn’t be calm about you. Not when every fibre of his body, every muscle burned hotter than the August sun within him, at everything you did. He couldn’t stop looking at you, couldn’t stop looking at your lips as you chewed on the piece of gum, couldn’t stop looking at your closed eyes as you admired the warm rays on your face, couldn’t stop looking, even, at your shoulders which carried your old rucksack. The straps had left red marks, not likely painful, but the red marred your skin nevertheless; Han would give anything to plant his lips there. He would start there, by the red of your skin, by the marks of your rucksack, and would travel up, towards your neck, which, too, carried only a faint mark of your guitar strap. He would kiss it, mark it, bite down behind the small of your-

“You wanna get a drink? I need a Coke… it’s so hot.”

Casualty. Han was far from it, and you were the personification of it. He doubted you were thinking of him at all, let alone in the way he was thinking of you – you were so very casual, in fact, that Han believed, for a second, to have dreamed the conversation on the sofa altogether, to have imagined it. That, if he told you about it, or if he made any advances, you would simply laugh at him. But he couldn’t have imagined it – because then he had to have imagined your wink during rehearsals as well, and your knowing laughter, your mischievous giggling. It had been very much real; Han had simply been thinking with his dick, ever since you had mentioned you and him and fucking in one sentence.

You didn’t await an answer from him. You made your way to the vending machine under the weeping willow – it felt like ages since you’ve last sat there, drinking and talking, about nothing and everything altogether. You had both missed it, and when you saw the dirty, old machine, when you stepped under the shadow of the big, crying tree, when you watched your best friend buy his beloved root beer a soft smile formed on your lips. Time with Han seemed to have become rare, lately; this felt like old times. When you threw in lose coins and selected a Coke, taking out the freezing drink and relishing in the taste of it against your thirsting tongue, the last two weeks of fighting and emotions and distance and confusion disappeared; it was you and Han on the bench under the tree, favourite drinks in hand, and laughing.

“You’re literally disgusting.” Han’s remark to the fact you kept your minty gum under your tongue as you sipped on your Coke, and you laughed at his frowning face.

“I’m not gonna waste a piece of gum to drink, dumbass.”, you retorted, and he scoffed in response. You watched him – something has changed, though, after all. He did, you thought. Something in Han had been fundamentally different ever since you had very first mentioned Chris. He seemed more absent, sipping on his root beer and watching a stray cat purring beneath his feet. He took out his phone, snapped a picture of it; likely sending it Lino, teasing that he should have come with you two after all. You were fond of him, deeply so, knew him deeply, too – it was natural for you to feel uneasiness in his change of demeanour. And somehow, you felt even more uneasy at the realization that he tried to overplay said change. That he tried desperately to act like he always did, but the pretending never is as natural as habits. Han’s trying instead of talking and figuring it out is unlike either of you, and it nagged on you, whenever you looked at him. You ought to find out what it was that changed him, that made him refuse of confessing it to you – you feared you already knew.

He looked at you, then, and blushed; he seemed like he got caught, doing something he wasn’t supposed to. His eyes immediately lost yours again, and his attention was back on the cat which had been begging for it. Your eyes saddened, fell into themselves. You shouldn’t have ever proposed your idea on the sofa – you should have managed to work out your frustration, sexual or not, yourself. You didn’t regret it, not particularly, but you simply shouldn’t have. For his sake, as much as for your friendships’. You never promised anyone to be an angel, and frankly, you doubted to be a very good person altogether – but the selfishness you burdened Han with surprised even yourself, more so that you didn’t have the guts to dissolve it. You weren’t any better than him, in that matter, then; choosing silence instead of talking it out, instead of resolving matters that desperately needed it.

“Do we have beer at home?”

Breaking the silence because you couldn’t possibly take it, and Han looked at you. There was gratefulness in his eyes, you thought – gratefulness that you brought up such an easy subject, that you chose to talk of mundanity. He shook his head, took a long drag of his cigarette before finishing his root beer with a big gulp, throwing his head back and exhaling loudly.

“No, I think we finished it all last time. Should we go buy some?”

You looked at him as he continued smoking, putting the empty can of his drink into his worn-out bag to deposit it later for a couple cents. He squatted down, pinching the shrinking bud between his lips, and played with the clingy feline still snaking around his feet. He giggled softly, only for himself – you wished nothing would ever change at all. You wished, too, that you’d mature into a better person, at some point.  

You stood in front of the shelves of booze, searching for your go-to beer, or something that at least wasn’t disgusting for its’ price. Han still stood outside; “You’re not wasting your gum, and I’m not wasting my cigarettes; they’re expensive.”, was his argument when you rolled your eyes at the tiny bud between his fingers, having argued that he could long discard it. You had scoffed at him, and had entered the store by yourself; “You keep destroying your lungs then, I won’t wait for you; I’m passively smoking way too much anyways with your smoking all around me.” You had waved your hands in front of your face to accentuate your disgust at the cloud of smoke Han engulfed you in, and disappeared into the badly lit store, half empty, with a tired-looking cashier behind the counter.

Han hadn’t lied to you when he said he wasn’t wasting his cigarettes, but it had only been a half-truth – he needed to compose himself. You were driving him crazy. Unknowingly, and surely not purposefully, but every word you spoke, every move you made set off a fire in his veins. He hadn’t felt this way about you before, even when he had realized, painfully, the feelings he bore for you – because before today, you weren’t a possibility. Before today the very thought of having you, in any form other than he already had, was laughable. The mere idea of touching you, letting his lips meet your body, your skin, your own lips had been amusing at least, embarrassing at best. So now that you were palpable, now that those ideas were, he couldn’t stop thinking them. He couldn’t stop imagining your hands on his body when you took hold of your bag to throw it around your shoulder, couldn’t stop imagining your fingers against his skin when they typed away at your phone, to send someone a quick, mindless message. When he looked at your mouth, talking or chewing on your long tasteless gum, the picture of it around his cock would not leave his mind – he wasn’t even sure if you had planned to fuck him tonight, but he didn’t care as long as it happened, eventually. He was long beyond the point of caring, too, about his laughable pitifulness.

When he made his way into the store, he met you by the shelves of chips and snacks. When you saw him, you gave him a mindless smile, and he returned it. He was glad you were so very calm – despite his pathetic anticipation Han had missed feeling careless in your presence, almost like before. And your relaxation calmed him, too; if you were to tease him, if you were to mention the conversation on the sofa in the studio – he might have to spill his feelings for you the very moment.

“You want something specific? I’ll take sweet-onion anddd…”, you scanned the bright bags of chips, deciding on hot-chilli quickly, “…these. Anything else?” You showed Han the haul in your hands, two six-packs of beer, two bags of chips, struggling to hold it all. He took one pack of the beverages you held, and another bag of sweet-onion chips. “Should be enough.”

You left the store with full hands of groceries, emptier wallets, and one additional cigarette pack in Han’s jean pocket.

“I swear you knew you didn’t bring your wallet – you were the one who asked if we should buy some beer!!”, you cried out, accusing your best friend. You had stood at the check-out already, beer and chips and one pack of expensive cigarettes laying on the register, when Han had announced that he hadn’t brought his wallet.

“And I swear I didn’t know!!” Not quite a comeback when you walked further towards your apartment, already having reached your neighbourhood, and squinting your eyes at the blinding sundown.

“Sure you didn’t. You only want me for my money.”, you tsked while shaking your head playfully, and Han laughed at that – you barely made more than him in your respective part-time jobs.

“I do, actually.” Then, after a while, when you didn’t retort anything, only continued making your way further down the quiet street, droplets of sweat sticking to the skin of your neck, “I’ll pay you back the money for my cigarettes.”

You turned your head to look back at him. There it was again, that changed look. Playful one moment, making you believe that you were the same old again, before the change settled behind his eyes. A pang to your heart, because his eyes looked sad that way, and his face spoke more than his words did; you just weren’t sure if you understood him.

“I sure hope so. And I want the money for half of the rest, too.”

One hour later, you were tipsy and full on the sofa in your shared apartment. You were giggling, too, about what you were unsure. Though you knew that you were content. Han seemed relaxed, helped by the three beers he had drank over the past sixty minutes, and was telling you joke after joke, making you laugh. He loved making you laugh; it had been a while he last had, and you had missed it, dearly. For a moment, sitting here with him, you believed that the past two weeks truly had dissipated into nothingness – you had been ought to forget the fights and the pettiness, and you enjoyed his company now, which felt like old times.

“Should we watch something? I kinda wanna watch something.”, Han half-slurred, and you giggled as he reached for the TV remote. The static of the screen blinded you for a moment before your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, and by then the man had already opened his Netflix account, scrolling through collections of movies. You felt the heat of his body next to your own, his leg touching yours. You watched his fingers as he clicked away on the remote, his face, then, enlightened by bright hues. The way his eyes shone with them.

It had been five minutes, movie names thrown out into the air, but none of which caught either of your attention. Another five minutes, and you weren’t even paying attention to the TV anymore; you wondered if you were attracted to him. A part of you had to be, maybe – for you had asked to sleep with him after all. And though you couldn’t deny his attractiveness, a subtle one, a natural one which not a lot of people you knew carried, you couldn’t say you ever noticed it. Your preposition had merely been a practical one, not one based on mutual attractiveness; you thought, at least.

Yet despite, your eyes wandered around his body, unbeknownst to him. Would he shy away from your gaze, if he only saw it? If he turned his head your way? Now that you saw him in a light which you’ve never thought about before, you noticed more of him. His hands, which still were holding the remote and his can of warm-turned beer, were pretty, almost delicate. Callused, too, at the fingertips – much like your own. The clinking sound of his teeth biting at his silver piercing sounded in your ears, even though the trailers he played on the TV were far louder; you only heard the repetitive sound of tooth on metal, and converted your eyes to his lips. His tongue darted out, from time to time, mindlessly, quickly before it was gone again. You wanted to kiss him, suddenly.

You tore yourself out of your thoughts, and your eyes caught the light of the TV. You breathed out, more heavily than Han had expected you to.

“You don’t wanna watch anything?”

He looked at you, eyes big, and bright, mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed a little to show question, and you looked at his lips. You caught him blushing when your eyes suddenly weren’t on his own anymore, when they travelled down his mouth, and he licked his lips then, sealed them. You thought about Chris, the angering frustration he’s left you with. You looked Han in the eyes again; and you smiled a little, smugly.

“You know…”, your voice was quiet, and low, and slurred. Han visibly swallowed when he looked at you; you caught his gaze flicking to your lips quickly, before he blushed even deeper. “We could just do… this instead.” You leaned in slowly, so slow that you gave him enough time to back away, to turn his face and flee your lips; but he didn’t. Han sat in his place, awaiting, big-eyed and blinking so hard you almost chuckled. You further closed the distance between you, inch by inch, before finally, your lips met.

It was a slow kiss, a leisure one. You were testing out the waters, letting your tongue brush across Han’s lower lip, across his piercing for only half a second before your lips closed his in again, softly. He was kissing you back, though the man was as though paralyzed otherwise; not moving in his seat, dumbfounded – he loved you. If he didn’t know it before, he surely did now, as your lips danced along his, so very calm, so very collected, unapologetically. You kissed him slowly, and softly, and deeply. Your hand lay on his shoulders, came up to caress at his cheek. You were delicate, you moaned out quietly when Han opened his mouth for you, let you take him in; and he couldn’t even touch you, could only sit, a stone of himself. He had you, close and warm and perfect, next to him, and he only needed to reach out, but couldn’t. He couldn’t as much as move his limbs, having lost all control over his own body; he was utterly hopeless.

You pulled away. Your head cocked to the side, and you looked at him with a smile grazing at the corner of your mouth. He could only look at you, in the dim light, in the static of the TV. The beads of sweat on your neck, the scent of beer when you breathed against him, the smell of your worn perfume – it was everything and it was nothing, losing himself in every detail which was you.

“Do you not like it?” Your voice was a whisper; you didn’t need to talk any louder, for the distance between your bodies wasn’t even worth mentioning. Han blinked, two times, three, four more, and finally registered your question.

“No, I do…”, he finally breathed out, as quietly as you, though far more desperate, “I really fucking do.”

You giggled, too cute for the given situation, he thought, but he didn’t mind it. You got hold of the can of beer still in his hands, the TV remote; Han had long forgotten that his hands had been occupied, in the first place. The dark, tangy beer met the old table with a quiet thump, and Han didn’t even see where the remote landed; you had thrown it somewhere beside them, both careless about it, both eager for each other.

“That’s good.”

You sat up, and with one swift motion, you found yourself on top of him. Han looked you up, from beneath his lashes; he hadn’t expected that, and the drowsiness in his veins almost made him curse out. Your legs were caging in his, and you hovered over him with a smile – he wasn’t sure if it was more than that, if what he saw wasn’t a smile but a smirk, more teasing and mischievous than kind, but he couldn’t tell in this lighting. He didn’t truly care, either. Because the next moment your lips were on his again, and you kissed him deeper this time around, faster. Surer of yourself, and Han welcomed it. He felt paralyzed, still, more so than before – a big part of him thought he had to imagine things, that the beer made him dream so very vividly that he had troubles differentiating it from reality – and for several moments, he simply let you kiss him. You didn’t seem to mind it; you were experimenting, cupping his face in your hands and making out with him, fast, yet unhurriedly.

He moved, then, finally. His hands fought against the disbelief and the numbing bliss coursing his body, and he lay them by the side of your thighs, wandering up to your waist in the process. It was the first time he was feeling you like this. Was he a fool, to never having noticed you before? To never having noticed your appeal, your body? He was noticing it now, exploring it, slowly, excessively; he needed to savour every passing second, every inch of you in risk this to be his only chance. He didn’t know how much longer you’d want to keep this affair, how much until you were satisfied, or until you managed to get Mr. Bahng where you wanted him. Han couldn’t let a single detail about tonight get past him; he would be able to remember the feeling of your body and your skin beneath his hands long after you’d grow tired of him.

And that’s how he touched you, too; firm, suddenly, awakened and driven by a newly found passion, a plan. He groped at your hips, felt your clothed flesh beneath his hands. He was fascinated at how it didn’t feel at all strange; the more he touched you, the more right it felt. He kissed you back more feverishly now, too. He opened his mouth and invited you in, pushed his tongue against your own, moaning quietly, a little shyly, against your lips. He felt you smile at that, and if he lost himself any further his hips would have bucked into yours at the feeling.

You pulled away. Suddenly, leaving him hungry and searching for your lips with his own. You giggled at the view of him not ready to let you go, of him trying to lean in to you, eyes yet closed and needy, in hopes of finding you again. When he didn’t, when he was left with only emptiness, his eyes opened, and he looked at you. It was silent desperation in his gaze; he wouldn’t stoop low enough to beg for you yet, keeping some of his pride after all, but he was silently pleading you on, to keep going, to give you more, to please, please not stop.

It was different seeing him like this. A puddle in your hands, so very needy. It was different, and it was sweet. You enjoyed it, more than you thought you would. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was pent up frustration; or maybe it was simply him, so infatuated by you, so seemingly enamoured. You knew he hadn’t fucked anyone in a while – he must have missed it as much as you, and reading it on his face, the relief and the quiet shame and the pleasure, was far more exciting than you had hoped it to be.

You leaned in again, and Han closed his eyes, puckered his lips. He was ready, entirely; but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a kiss. You stopped inches before him, and gave him a smile when he looked up at you again, frustrated, teetering on annoyance. Your hand disappeared to his hips; the man jumped in surprise, and a breath hitched in his throat; cute. He tensed up, until he realized it wasn’t his sex – hard and leaking by now, though he wouldn’t want to admit to it – you were aiming for, but the pockets of his jeans. He blinked at you, watched you hold his gaze in a manner unwavering; he wondered if you liked this as much as he did. If it came natural to you also, the kissing, and the touching, and the teasing. Or if you felt a hint of amusement, still, a little funny because this wasn’t anything either of you had ever truly thought of, let alone planned until a couple hours ago; he wouldn’t blame you, either way.

Your fingers snuck into the depths of his pockets, finally fishing out what you were looking for – Han never left the house without a condom on him, despite the little use he found for them. He didn’t know why you knew; but something about it turned him on beyond comprehension. Something about your smile when you looked at him now, when you sat back a little. Something about the way your teeth flashed when your smile widened, something about the way you waved the condom in front of him, when his face screamed question marks and the absence of any coherence.

You giggled, let one of your hands slowly wander down his body. You started at his chest, travelled to the expanse of his stomach over his old, washed-out shirt, teased at his abdomen. The touches were feather light, but they ignited burning fires on the sensitivity of his skin.

“We’re gonna need that, no?”, you asked, rhetorically, but he nodded anyways.

“Can already feel how hard you are… and we’ve only kissed.”, you mumbled against his lips, before you connected them with your own. You didn’t give him much time to react; but when he processed your words and hot embarrassment flooded his body he whined out, brows furrowed and holding onto you, fingers digging into the fabric of your low-rise jeans. He could feel the skin of your waist beneath his fingertips; it was warm and slightly sweaty, and it drove him insane.

Your hands explored a little more of him, moved further south, until you hovered over his core. You only hovered, you didn’t yet touch. You let Han get impatient, let him whine out again – you hadn’t expected him to sound so pretty, so eager. It almost wasn’t in your control, the way you egged him on only to elicit more of those sounds from the depths of his throat. You let him whimper into your mouth, let him buck his hips in search of your touch; only softly, almost embarrassed, and only then you palmed him over the restrains of his jeans. It must have been painful; he was straining against the rough material, so hard you wondered just how long it had been since he’d last had his dick touched. Though you couldn’t really blame him, not if the wetness between your legs started staining not only your underwear but your jeans also, not when the heat in your core was barely possible to hold out. You needed this as bad as he did, after all.

You fiddled with the belt of Han’s jeans, his button, then, when you succeeded. You undid the zipper, lastly – by then his breath came in staggered huffs and sighs, and he pulled you closer, entirely lost. He kissed you harder, too, when you palmed his cock over his underwear; it was marred with precum already, and you smiled against his lips. Lips which never ceased to urge for more, to glue against yours.

Finally, and he almost started begging for it, you took him out fully. You broke the kiss, and you both watched as you palmed his cock, at the base first before you moved your hand against it, up to the tip, then down again. Slowly, taking your time. It wasn’t the first time you saw him naked, wasn’t the first time, even, you touched his sex – you had been kids once and curious, though back then, awkwardness had marred the memory. Now, the feeling was different; and not for the first time tonight, you were surprised just how different. You grew wetter at the sounds of his pleasure, and how very red, how very angry his leaking tip was when your thumb circled over it. Han rolled his hips into your fist softly, more confident now, or maybe simply needier, but softly nonetheless. After moments of touching he made moves to open the buttons on your jeans as well, and you let him. You raised your hips slowly to help him slide them off you, and it took you a little to discard them fully; the alcohol in your system made you clumsy and dizzy, and you both giggled when you almost tripped over your pants before you were back to straddling him. Han noticed the light scar on your knee – he had the same one. He also noticed the self-made tattoo by your ankle; a music note. You hadn’t been eighteen yet, and you had known a guy with a tattoo gun back then. Against his warnings of never, ever touching it you did, once, had almost caught an infection, too. The tattoo was long faded out now, looking rough and shaky; but it was still there, and Han noticed it now as he looked you up and down, as took all of you in.

Yet he hesitated to touch you, now that your jeans didn’t cover your skin anymore. He was almost glad you had decided to leave your panties on – his eyes were already lost on your figure, trying to take you all in and losing himself in it. Your tank top still was on, too; it wasn’t a sight he didn’t know, necessarily. You were both comfortable in your bodies and around each other, and days at the beach weren’t a rarity with you two, either. But right now was different. Right now, your bare thighs were caging in his own, and he could only focus on how the softness of them spilled over your underwear. He didn’t know if he had ever noticed it before; he surely would from now on, and it was bound to destroy him.

His hands slowly found your hips again. It was a steady place, secure, sturdy; he liked how they felt beneath his palm, your hips. But he wanted to touch you, more intimate, closer; simply more. He didn’t know if he was brave enough. He was frozen in his place, frozen by your hips, only moving his lips against yours. But you were urging for it, he thought. Your hips were moving slowly, rolling over his own; he wasn’t sure if you were getting any friction, if you moved for moving’s sake, or if you wanted him exactly where his own fingers tingled to be.

Though he didn’t need to decide, after all; your right hand took hold of his left, and you guided him to your wetness. A loud whine escaped him – your underwear was soaked, and you were hot. A heat so scorching it ought to burn Han alive, yet he didn’t retract his hand, only dove into you further. He pulled your panties to the side, scooped up your wetness, testing the waters. You moaned, you bit his lower lip, you kissed him harder; and he kept going. He teased at your clit, enjoyed how your hips rolled against his hand, how you lost yourself in pleasure now, too. He was dizzy himself; you never eased off his sex, kept touching upon him, kept teasing his tip. You grinded against each other, both needy, both intoxicated, both your hearts speaking different languages this very moment, yet yearning for the same purpose.

You pulled away with a deep sigh, and your teeth ripped open the package of the condom you had held in your hand up until now. Han sat wide-eyed, speechless; he hoped he wouldn’t cum the very moment you eased onto him. He wasn’t strong-willed as it was, and hopeless around you altogether. He would embarrass himself, surely.

You rolled the rubber over his erection, kissed him again before you adjusted yourself above him. And he had been right; when he felt your wetness, your heat engulf him slowly, when he watched your face blow out in pleasure, mouth agape and eyes widening before they shut close, before your head lulled back, he was closer to release than it was comfortable to admit. Fuck. He needed to recompose himself if he wanted this moment to last any longer than only a couple seconds. Not only didn’t he want to ever leave this, ever leave you, your touch, the feeling of your body underneath his hands; he would also be unable to face you without shame if he happened to bust already. Which wouldn’t be an easy task; you were together every day, and he wanted to still be able to look you in the eyes, without feeling embarrassed to the core. So, Han lulled his head back, closed his eyes shut, to not look at your contorted face – it was far prettier than he had imagined.

He felt you. Because he didn’t dare look at you all his senses were locked in on the feeling of your dripping pussy around him, your velvety walls taking all of him in, again and again. You kept a rhythm which was driving the man further to numbing pleasure, and your sounds echoing in his ears were heavenly – god, how much he loved the way you sounded. It wasn’t the first time he heard you this way – the walls in your shared apartment were rather thin – but it was the first time the sounds were meant for him, the first time he didn’t mind it, the first time he didn’t cover his ears with noise-cancelling headphones, not so much out of annoyance, but out of the embarrassment of his hardening erection. He had always thought it wasn’t your sounds in particular which got him so very hard whenever you had brought someone over to spend the night with, that it had always been the mere and mundane act of sex within close proximity; he had always had the libido of a teenage boy, after all.

Though now, listening to your throaty, whiny moans, your small sighs of pleasure; it had been you. Had always been, long before he had realized it himself.

“Gonna cum.” Your voice was breathy, stuck in your throat, and Han shot his eyes open at your words. He moaned out, too, when his eyes met yours – you had never looked more beautiful. With a hand of yours down your core, hectic fingers toying with your clit and the other clinging onto his shoulder he couldn’t help but buck his hips up into you, whining out curses and your name, furrowing his brows. It got you off the edge; his high-pitched whimpers, the way your name sounded when it rolled off his lips. He had never sounded like this, so breathy, so whiny, so pleading. It was adorable, it was enough to tip you off, and you came against him loud and hard, mouth hung open and head lulling into your neck. And it was entirely enough for Han to follow, momentarily; his hips fucked into yours, and his hands dug into your flesh before he filled the condom with a drawn-out whimper, continuing to grind his hips into yours, riding out his orgasm, chasing the end of it, the endlessness of it.

You sat next to him, panties wet and sticky, chests heaving, watching him slide off the condom to tie it up. You couldn’t read him. He didn’t look the way you’d have expected him to post sex; his thoughts were occupied by something, and he fled your eyes, it seemed. When he got up to throw the used rubber in the kitchen trash distress glazed his eyes, and a feeling of worry set in your chest. Had it been wrong, after all? Maybe you had misread him, took him for someone who would enjoy casualties. He had seemed to have enjoyed it, though. And he had agreed; were you so bad in reading your best friend? Did you know him so little?

When Han sat back down on the sofa he looked at nothing in particular, before his head turned to you. He smiled a bit, fucked out and pupils blown out; maybe he was fine. You clung onto a hopeless straw.

“So, is the only reason you fucked me because you can’t have Mr. Bahng.” The name sounded sarcastic out of his mouth, and the question amused; was he joking around? It sounded like it, but his eyes looked serious, hopeful. Why was he bringing up Chris, all of a sudden? Not even you had been thinking about the teacher too much throughout tonight; so why was he?

Your brows furrowed slightly, and you hoped he didn’t notice; you chuckled then, throwing your head back against the backrest of the sofa, feigning relaxation.

“No, actually I’ve always been suuuper attracted to you.”, you looked at him, and his eyes sunk. You noticed, but you giggled, and put on your best pout, “I was just so scared to tell you before.” You chuckled, and you couldn’t stand yourself. Han’s face visibly saddened, sunk into itself, before he forced himself to huff out in fake amusement. He seemed nervous, fiddled with his hands, pretended to sweep something off his pants which wasn’t there. And when he got up with a quiet “Gonna go to sleep, then.”, you were disgusted by yourself. You sat on the sofa for a little while longer, booze making your head pulsate, making you more anxious than maybe necessary. Your panties were dry by now, and your thighs aching; did you enjoy hurting the people around you, only so they wouldn’t hurt you first? Or were you doing it, just for the pleasure of it? You cleaned up the empty cans of beer and the snacks before you went to wash the guilt off your body; when the shower started running Han still wasn’t asleep, and you couldn’t hear his quiet sniffling in the room next to your own.

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads-archived @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh @chrizzztopherbang @qtieskz @rylea08 @miss-fallon @sikebishes @h0n3yj4y @lashaemorow @tsunderelino

[lovemyromance]

"I can't believe the Ewriels want Elain, Lucien, Az, AND Gwyn to suffer by not being with their mates! they are heartless monsters 😫😫😫"

1. Show me on the page where Azriel & Gwyn are mates.

Not "sparky spark" - show me where either Gwyn or Azriel says "You're my mate" or realized he/she was their mate.

No takers?

2. Great, now that we've established there's only one mating bond to contend with between Elain and Lucien - Show me where it says they'd suffer from a rejected mating bond

The ONLY context we have about rejected mating bonds is this one page where Rhys is telling Feyre what could happen.

"There will always be ... a tug. For females it is easier to ignore ... for males, it can drive them mad. It is their burden to fight through."

Do I need to spell it out even further?

1. A mating bond can be rejected

2. There will always be a tug

3. That tug can be easier to ignore for females

4. It could drive a male mad, but that's his burden (no one else)

If anything, that shows that Elain likely won't be affected by a rejected mating bond. She'll feel a tug that she can ignore. Well, isn't it a good thing then that she already has a full mating bond tug that she is ignoring. Plenty of practice for her.

Other consequence: Lucien could go mad. That sucks. We don't have any further details on what degree of madness or whether he would truly "suffer" or what prevents some males from going mad vs doesn't - so it is an actual possibility. I tend to lean on the side that says he likely won't be going mad because he has his own powers and separate life and just like Elain - he seems to be living just fine ignoring the mating bond. If it was really that demanding of a "tug", he would be trying to at least see Elain when he's in the city but he doesn't even do that. He seems literally fine.

So best case and (most likely scenario) / Elain & Lucien rejecting their mating bond has no effect on the two of them, and they live happily ever after separately.

Worst case scenario - Lucien goes mad 🤷🏻‍♀️. Nobody wants this outcome of course, but i think it proves that a rejected mating bond really only has the potential to make Lucien's life harder. Which sucks, ig but in Rhys's own words - That is his burden to fight.

Aka: No, Elucien rejecting the mating bond does not cause Elain & Lucien & Azriel & Gwyn to all suffer and live lives of constant pain and heartbreak.

Enough of your lil tiny violin sad music!

The whole "they'll suffer and alwayssss feel it" is lowkey such a backhanded threat too? You're essentially saying "Well, there is a choice and you could say no - but then you'll suffer forever 😠".

What tf kinda choice is that? In a series focused on female empowerment and free will/choice - what makes you think that is the direction SJM will be choosing?

Stop extrapolating. Stop exaggerating. Maybe read the books without your own headcanons in place and you'll see the words for what they are. And I'm sorry, but the words in canon tell a different story than whatever theories y'all have cooked up in your head 🤷🏻‍♀️

[blorger]

the Great Longbottom Bully Chronicles: Snape edition

We conclude our four-part investigation into Neville's canon bullies (pt.1, pt. 2 and pt.3) with none other than his most well-established tormentor, the big kahuna himself: Severus Snape.

Snape's mistreatment of Neville is undeniable but does our view of it change if we take into account not only the context in which the bullying happens but also Snape's personality (does not suffer fools), preferences (hates children) and situation (probably overworked to the max from all the extracurriculars assigned by Dumbledore, also the whole spy thing)?

I'm not looking to excuse Snape's bullying, mind you, what I am seeking to do is to understand it. Why does Snape do what he does? How much of his behaviour towards Neville is intentional? Also, how seriously are we supposed to take said bullying?

Answering these questions is not as easy as it may seem and it's only made more difficult by the fact that (as seen in part 3) the narration itself is often unkind to Neville. The fact that books 1 through 4 Neville is little more than comic relief affects directly how we feel about his mistreatment.

In the first books, Neville is a cartoonish character: he doesn't speak, he "squeaks" or "quavers". If something delicate is around, Neville is bound to either sit on it or send it flying. Neville spends the majority of the first 4 books in a constant state of fear: he gets descriptors like anxious, fearful, tremulous; he acts sadly, miserably, shakily; he cries, he moans, he whimpers, he stammers. All of this happens independently from Snape's bullying, though it must be assumed that said bullying contributes negatively to Neville's self image (which in turn guides his actions and mannerisms).

It's not until Goblet of Fire that we see a distinct shift in the way Neville is portrayed, with Barty Crouch jr (cosplaying as Alastor Moody) holding the honor of being the first adult in Neville's life to step up and offer him guidance (but only after intentionally traumatising him by showing him the curse that he used to ruin the minds of his parents, he's a multi-faceted guy that Barty).

This coincides with something I've already talked about: as the story's tone shifts, so does Neville's characterisation. From GoF on, we see a sharp decrease in both Snape's targeted bullying and Neville's fear of it, and they both come to an end in OotP once Neville's chrysalis is ready to hatch and he can become Neville 2.0, the Ultimate Hero.

Taking all of this into account, let's look at Snape and Neville's interactions in canon:

PS

(Neville manages to melt a cauldron during his first ever lesson: this is Snape's introduction to him.)

You can see from Snape's tone that he's immediately short with Neville (because he's a bad teacher) but this is also Harry's first lesson and Snape immediately redirects his frustration towards him instead. I give this a 4/10 on the bully scale since he's admonishing a student for a mistake, it's how bad he is at it that moves it into bully territory. He gets a 7/10 on the bad teacher scale, though, because an atmosphere of fear is not conductive to learning.

CoS

(Lockhart is trying to select students for the duelling club, Snape has opinions)

At this point in the story Neville DOES cause devastation wherever he goes, we know this from non-evil sources (Harry). This gets 3/10 on the bully scale because there's merit in what Snape says but 8/10 on the bad teacher scale because Nev is at an impressionable age and needs constructive criticism, not public humiliation.

Is Snape attempting to bully Neville when he says this? I'm going to go out on a limb and say no. We know that Snape speaks to most people in a direct and often insensitive manner and he does not seem to be actively targeting Neville in this scene. Snape, it seems, merely makes a throwaway comment and immediately goes back to his real objective: needling Harry.

(Harry observes Snape in class)

Harry considers Snape's actions to be bullying, and we know that Neville feels victimised by them but what are Snape's intentions? At this point in the story I feel like Snape is not seeking to intimidate or otherwise harm Neville, it's just that the intimidation is a byproduct of the way he teaches. 5/10 on the bully scale but 7/10 on the bad teacher scale.

PoA

and

and

(Neville has a terrible time in potions)

This is perhaps the most egregious case of mistreatment Neville faces in the books. We start with Neville already worked up and anxious and his state of mind (and potion) is only made worse by Snape's attitude. The final threat of toad annihilation and Snape's refusal to let Hermione assist Neville are what really escalates an otherwise ordinary situation (ordinary for a potion class containing Neville) into nightmare territory.

This gets a 9/10 on the bully scale because the toad threat is both unnecessary and cruel and a 8/10 on the bad teacher scale. Snape does try to impart information but the tone he uses is clearly inappropriate (as are the threats of animal cruelty). Snape does not seem to be able to teach effectively when it comes to his problem students, which results in his frustration and eventual descent into maliciousness.

(Just some friendly advice to the werewolf professor you hate, completely normal behaviour from Snape)

Here Snape is undeniably acting out of malice: there's zero pretence that this conversation is for Neville's scholastic benefit. It must be noted that this scene happens right on the tail end of the potion disaster described above so Snape is most likely still worked up from that. 8/10 on the bully scale because this is said in front of Neville, Neville's class and the New Teacher for maximum embarrassment and 10/10 on the bad teacher scale since there's no possible pedagogic reason for this exchange.

(Snape has found out about Neville's boggart)

We are not shown the resulting bullying directly so we have to take Harry at his word. We do not know what Snape actually does, only the impression it leaves on someone who already doesn't like him. I give this 6/10 on the bully scale because of vagueness but a solid 9/10 on the bad teacher scale, because Snape has just found out that his teaching style is terrifying enough for Neville to make him his literal greatest fear and yet he seems more preoccupied with the slight to his ego.

GoF

(Neville starts the school year strong but so does Snape)

I am of two minds on this: on the one hand there comes a point in a teacher's life when nothing you do seems to work so you resort to handing out detentions, on the other hand a more competent teacher would actually use said detentions to attempt to do some teaching. Snape chooses to use his time in a decidedly less productive way, that is to say by terrorising noted toad owner Neville Longbottom with toad dissection. this gets 6.5/10 on the bully scale, because toad parts are actually used as potion ingredients so it's a somewhat constructive detention but 8/10 on the bad teacher scale, because Snape does not use the the detention as a teaching opportunity and opts instead for some petty revenge.

OotP

(Snape describes what his advanced potions class will entail and also his expectations regarding his pupils' O.W.L.s)

This is positively benign coming from Snape, also Neville should be nowhere close to an advanced potions classroom. 1/10 on the bully scale and also 2/10 on the bad teacher scale.

(Neville just received some unintentionally super-effective psychic Damage from Draco. Harry and Ron try to hold him back and Snape takes notice)

Who is this New and Improved Severus Snape who behaves like an actual teacher (albeit a somewhat biased one)? 0/10 on the bully scale and a mere 1/10 on the bad teacher scale.

I want to take this moment to note that Neville's character makeover happens in tandem with Snape's. Just as Neville becomes less cartoonish as the books progress so does Snape's character acquire nuance and depth. Also, since the situation in the wizarding world is escalating rapidly, Snape is now quite busy with his second job (triple agent). The time for comical takedowns form the witty teacher is over, we need to get ready to sympathize with Snape's upcoming martyrdom.

(Snape is called to Umbridge's office, where the DA has been caught red-handed)

We have finally reached the very last interaction between Neville and Snape. We join them at a particularly sensitive time, as Snape cannot reveal he's a double-triple-super secret-gold star agent and therefore has to keep Umbridge appeased in order to quickly GTFO and investigate Harry's claims of Sirius's capture. In a way, this is Snape cosplaying as himself in the earlier books. This gets a mere 1/10 on the bully and the bad teacher scale because he's just trying to keep up appearances.

And finally: the long-awaited conclusion

So, what did we learn kids? First of all, that Snape is a terrible teacher shoved into a position he's ill-suited for, and it shows. He does not have the patience nor the tact required for his position and furthermore he cannot keep his emotions separate from his job.

Even if we take into account the fact that that potions is clearly a subject in which not following instructions properly can have dangerous consequences - which gives Snape some leeway to act more strictly than other teachers - we cannot help but come to the conclusion that he should not have been put anywhere close to children (which calls into question Dumbledore's judgement but I digress).

We also learn, though, that Snape's treatment of Neville is at its peak when Neville is still being used as comedic relief and the bullying is scaled back as both of their characters undergo metamorphosis in order to reach their Ultimate Form. By the end of the books, we need to see Neville as Brave and Snape as a multi-layered, morally grey character and as such the bullying comes to an end rather abruptly (and anti-climatically). It's difficult to treat Neville's mistreatment with the gravity it deserves when the book themselves care so little for him as a character. Neville 2.0 is treated as important, yes, but in order to do so the author glosses over many formative moments in his life.

That said, it is an undeniable fact that Snape's actions have an enormous impact on Neville's self-worth. This, together with his grandma's awful parenting and the dismissive way he's treated by his peers, contributes to perhaps one of the saddest self-assessments in the books, as seen at the very beginning of OotP:

This is not a moment of introspection from Neville, it's merely a throwaway comment used to get out of a conversation, yet it's telling that his first instinct is to put himself down.

Also kudos to Ginny for never being a Neville hater and being probably his first genuine friend. You go girl.

When it comes to Snape's side of the equation, though, I'm left with more questions than answers. Can he tell that what he's doing to Neville is perpetuating the cycle of abuse he's part of (see: Sirius and James but also his father)? No matter how much I think about it I can't seem to come to a solid conclusion.

Snape is capable of extreme levels of compartmentalisation; this is what allows him to be such an effective spy but at the same time it's what keeps him from looking inward (and perhaps recognising the root of some of his actions). That said, Snape is also very astute and observant: he of all people should be able to tell what his actions are doing to Neville. I feel like Snape is able to rationalise his behaviour towards Harry quite well but Neville is not someone he holds rancour towards, so how does he justify his mistreatment?

I imagine Snape is under immense stress for all of Harry's (and Neville's) time at Hogwarts and the situation only worsens as the years go on so I can see him releasing steam with some recreational bullying. Is this all there is to it when push comes to shove? Was Neville simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?

[rius-cave]

I just saw you mention Adam having PTSD from the exterminations and honestly it's so valid. He did enjoy doing them, he did have fun, yes, but I firmly believe he started it because of his unprocessed trauma that he wasn't even aware of. I mean, I see the way he's masking himself (literally and figuratively) as a way of protecting himself from people. Back when he was "born" he was literally rejected and betrayed by the very people he supposedly loved and who were supposed to love him, then he was practically abandoned and thrown out of Eden by the same people who mentally harmed him in the first place. This guy is badly damaged and no one can convince me otherwise. And he was damaged from the start so he couldn't possibly realize that something was very not okay because these were the very first people he knew. And we all know pushing down our feelings and ignoring them comes with concequences. In his case, the frustration manifested in violence, on top of that violence against his own descendants who chose the wrong path, who had tainted humanity with their acts. He also probably connects them with Lilith and Lucifer who caused it in the first place, bringing evil to the earth. I also love to consider the extermination as a form of personal revenge on Adam's side, since he isn't able to carry out a direct revenge it serves as one for him.

But he knows it's wrong. He knows either way that what he's doing is bad and cruel, and even if he actively avoids admitting that to himself, he subconsciously knows.

Then he gets to Hell. He most likely only used to visit Hell during exterminations, which means his brain most likely strongly connects the place with that. Hence, being in Hell is a constant reminder for him. On top of that, he actually sees what life is like in Hell. That all those "bad bad sinners who can't change and tainted humanity" aren't all bad actually. And perhaps he doesn't care about them, but I don't think he could just ignore that. He has to live among them, he sees the way they live and he's forced to realize that they're still human souls and not pure evil and rotten. It will add to the guilt which he probably also doesn't admit that he feels, because he didn't do anything wrong, right..? Everything was reasonable... But then why does it feel so bad?

Okay this turned our very very long but it just hit me and I could still go on about it lol, I'll spare you from that

First of all, thank you anon for putting into words this thing that I'm not smart enough to do myself.

I really wouldn't dare to say that "canon" Adam is this deep and has oh such big trauma and is only misunderstood by everyone and bla bla, because if I'm honest, the way he's written in the show doesn't lead me to believe that Vivzie really cares about fleshing him out to be a super complex character. And hey, fair enough, I'm taking him from her anyway lol.

But if if we stopped for a second to think about it, Adam definitely has the potential to be a much deeper and complex character that would be able to touch upon themes like this. I desperately need to know when did everything go wrong, was it really Eden? Was it during his time on Earth? Was it after he died???

I honestly think it's kind of a mix of all of them, but the biggest shift was after he died. He was the first human soul in Heaven, hey, it's not so bad in here!! Maybe his suffering on Earth was worth it after all if he was able to spend the rest of Eternity in a place like this! Now he just needs to wait for his family to get there as well so it can all be complete!

Except they don't, not all of them in fact. A couple of his sons, maybe or maybe not his wife, but it's definitely not ALL of them, where is everybody!? He's pretty sure his grandchildren would start aging by now too, where did everybody go!?

Of course, that asshole has them. It wasn't enough for him to steal his first wife and lie to them so they'd get kicked out of Eden, he also took a bunch of his children, his grandchildren, his great grandchildren and so on and so on.

Look at everything they do on Earth, it's disgusting, and it's all that fucker's fault. None of this would've happened if it wasn't for him, if it wasn't for the other sinners who kept repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

And he starts the exterminations after centuries of wallowing in that hatred. But of course, they're only the result of years of watching how everyone just eventually leaves him. And he doesn't realize when that violence starts becoming just a way to cope with his intense hurt.

I feel like I went a little off track there, forgive me I am a little scatterbrained right now. But in any case, I absolutely concur with you!

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Have you ever thought about what it would be like if Eomer and Grima met as children lmao (also love your work🤍 I’m a huge fan of what you write and I’m married to Grima as well he’s my wet pookie)

sometimes there are people who come into my inbox with only the best and most amazing messages - you are one of them! (also thank you so much for the lovely compliments! I'm always so happy when people like my Grima nonsense <3)

I have never considered this but it is objectively hilarious. It would require them being the same age, which shifts their dynamic a bit I think since Grima is, at a minimum, like 13 years older than Eomer but really it's much more like 15 to 20 or more, depending if you're doing book or movie Grima re: age. (Book is ambiguous. He's described as "old" but what does that mean? Aragorn's also old! Anyway, I usually head-canon him as somewhere between 45-50. Eomer's like 27 and making some Peak Life Choices Boy Howdy.)

ANYWAY

Them meeting as children would be a mess. Grima's that kid who is like "I dissected the dead bird the cat brought in, do you want to see it? The insides are interesting--you can see where it might have been ill and dying anyway" and everyone is like "….no". He also suffers from the "everyone thinks I'm a weird freaky asshole so I might as well be the weirdest freakiest asshole they've ever met" - ouroboros situation. I also think he was born prickly which helps little. His natural personality is like pickle brine and life just made it worse.

(Eomer: it's a good thing pickle-backs exist. Shot of whisky followed by a shot of pickle brine. It's great.

Grima: what are you saying??

Eomer: that you're an acquired taste. and sometimes I feel like I've woken up after a bad night at the bar with Eothain.

Grima: .. ….,. .,,.. you know. I'll take it.)

Eomer is rough and tumble and also trying to live up to the Image of His Father. He's also a prince and therefore used to getting what he wants when he wants it. I think he was also born a bit truculent. Like, the slightly compulsive need to just Start Shit with people on occasion is there in his late 20s, I presume it was there in his childhood as well. It's not a constant thing, but when it strikes Eomer cannot resist.

(will this one day end up with him causing an International Incident? possibly.)

At the same time, I think Eomer was a child with a sunny disposition that dampened really swiftly after his parents died and he became a bit grave and serious in his teens. When you're fifteen and taking up your father's mantel and being told that he was a Hero and you're going to be Just Like Him is a lot to hold and I think Eomer's response to it was to try and be the Grave Heroic Lord that people expected him to be. Another ouroboros, just in a different direction to Grima.

All of this to say - them meeting at like twelve? Disaster. Grima would be weird and trying to figure out how to keep Eomer from beating him up or something but he's not perfected the ability to manipulate people or situations because he's twelve. Eomer would be like "why is this freaky kid staring at me and being weird" then would either try and start shit or would ignore him because Eomer is a Prince and Grima is a Commoner.

Also, I think Grima started doing his thieving at a young age and Eomer is at once offended because that is against the law! and you're not supposed to do that! and only sneak-thieves and villains do that! at the same time I can see ten year old him thinking it secretly kind of cool and badass. There's some mischief in Eomer that Grima can prod into the light of day (not to mention the natural desire kids have to test boundaries and push limits).

--

They meet because idk Grima's father is in Edoras for business reasons. It's sheering season, there's wool to sell.

(a half-drabble-thing below the cut)

Grima's loitering in a market square watching people and feeling a bit envious of the other boys who muck about together because he wants to be included but he knows if he tries it'll end poorly so he just watches and feels resentful.

Eomer's been taken to market by Theodred for whom Eomer acts as page since it provides him a quasi-apprenticeship in how to be a good Eotheod lord. Theodred being fourteen years older than Eomer has his household established and is in a good position to take Eomer on. Theodred says, ‘You can take a few hours to yourself. Consider it a half-day holiday.’

Eomer is well-chuffed with this development and is sauntering around with some of his mates. Determining if they’re going to make trouble or not – Eomer is conscious of needing to set a good example and wanting his cousin and uncle’s approval so does talk them out of the more insane ideas.

The squad gets distracted at some stall or other and Eomer isn’t interested in the wares so is looking around. He sees a slight, strange looking kid a few stalls over who is leaning against a pole watching them then he watches some of the common kids who are kicking a ball about in the square, others are running hoops &c. Eomer doesn’t at first pay attention to him because he’s just some peasant. Look at his clothes! Clearly not from Edoras. Clearly some boy from a farm or small village.

Then the boy seems to disappear and Eomer thinks that this is strange. He was sort-of keeping an eye on him since Eomer got a sense that he was planning some mischief but now he’s gone. La!

Into thin air.

Eomer’s mates are done with this stall—they want to go to another. Or maybe find a cockfight to bet some of their allowance on. All else fails, they say, we can go up to the first floor of the White Hart and look at the girls passing by.

This all sounds swell to Eomer and the roudy group makes their way towards the back of the market where the more dubious activities occur. As they round a corner Eomer collides into someone who hadn’t been there but a moment ago. It’s the boy from before! The little rat-faced one with the greasy dark hair and large eyes.

Eomer’s back up and dusting himself off as one of Eomer’s friends hauls the boy to his feet, ‘Don’t you watch where you’re going? Eh? We’re walking here, can’t you see?’ He’s jabbing into the boy’s chest and the boy is in turns frightened but also, somehow, sneering at them as if he were their better. The boy is gripping his hands into fists and there is dirt between fingers, as if he had grabbed up something from the ground. ‘What’s that smell? Sheep-shit? Wool? You got wool for brains?’

Eomer is all, ‘Leave him alone. He’s not worth it.’ And his friend laughs, wags a finger at the boy, ‘You’re lucky we’re kind.’ Then they’re off and Eomer doesn’t really think about the encounter until they’re at the cockfight and he goes for his purse to put a bet on and finds it lighter than it was an hour ago.

When they crashed into that boy.

And Eomer recalls a hand near his back then his belt but he hadn’t thought much of it. Just thought the boy was floundering a bit, being knocked over as he was, and Eomer so much bigger than he.

The little bastard nicked some of his money!

The little bastard is good if he got some but not all. Too smart to take the whole purse, too smart to cut it. The fall must have loosened it enough for some of the coin to fall out and the boy grabbed it up. Eomer thinks he should report the theft, because no one is above the law as his cousin tells him with regularity. As Third Marshal it will be Eomer’s job to ensure that justice is dispensed. It will be his job to ensure that the laws of the land are enacted fairly, honestly.

But it was only a few coins. In any case, Eomer doesn’t think the boy could stand the whipping that would follow. He had a pinched, starved look about him. That cringing, mincing manner some apprentices get when their masters are hard handed. When his friend was jabbing a finger into the boy’s chest Eomer had half expected the ribs to cave in.

Best leave him be. He’ll get his comeuppance at some point should the boy makes it to manhood with the same unwise habits.

Fishing out some pennies, Eomer says, ‘I’m going in on the cockerel with the green feathering on its wings.’

‘Only five pence? And that bird is going to lose, look how small he is!’

‘He may be small, but I think he’s got some cunning in him. In any case, thrift can be the mark of a wise man.’

His friends laugh: oh ho ho, Eomer sounds like a grandfather. Look at their friend the prince Eomer, trotting about as if he were a sage.

Eomer rolls his eyes, grabs one of his friends closest to him to knuckle his head, then they are cajoled into behaviour by the pressure and presence of the crowd.

Eomer’s bird wins the day. He preens all the way home.

~

Years on from then, Eomer will be visiting his uncle and cousin in Edoras and his uncle will say, ‘Come meet the man Aethelrod has marked as his successor, once he can no longer perform the role of Law Speaker.’

Eomer will say that Aethelrod has years left in him, surely? And his uncle will laugh his loud laugh that fills the golden hall: Oh yes, he’ll be long lived. Still, best to think about the future early.

When Eomer follows his uncle out through the golden pillars and the golden doors of Meduseld into the sun, he will see the broad, soft face of Aethelrod at the top of the stairs and behind him a tall man built lightly, with dark hair and large eyes. And Eomer will look at the man and the man will look at Eomer and Eomer will think the face to be familiar though he cannot place it. The man will bow, a perfectly executed action of someone who practices. Aethelrod will thump the man’s chest with his large fist and say, ‘This is Grima son of Galmod, found him out in the hinterlands some years back. He’s whip-fast and clever as an adder. He’ll do well for a Law Speaker, my lord. He’ll do very well indeed.’

And the man with the large eyes will seem to stare through Eomer then he will smile and it will be one of dark amusement. As if there were some joke being played at Eomer’s expense. Eomer’s back will get up, his skin will bristle, he will think that this man from the hinterlands shouldn’t be so confident or comfortable. He has yet to prove himself, after all.

It will be later, months or years on from the introduction, when Eomer will be rounding a corner in Meduseld and he will collide with Grima who has somehow made himself a fixture in Theoden’s household and Eomer cannot help but think there a secret, subtle magic at work. Because who is this man? No one has heard of him? Who is his father? Some shepherd from the east Emnet. No one of note or noble name. And if a man has no name or history can he be trusted?

In any case, they will collide and Grima will step back begging his pardon, he will be bowing, and Eomer will be saying, ‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it��� and Grima will be leaving, their shoulders will be brushing, and Eomer will think he feels the ghost of a hand at his back, his belt-purse, and when he looks over his shoulder he will see Grima also looking back and Eomer will realize oh Gods, it’s that kid. It’s that boy who nicked half my allowance that one day. And he will wonder at himself and how it was he never made the connection, but the moment is over because Grima is gone—back to the main hall where he will weave his plans for advancement and Eomer is in his room, checking his purse, and thinking to himself: I could have sworn there was a cup on the bedside table. A pretty one with gold in the rim. I could have sworn I left it there this morning.

[quabiitv]

So, I wrote a backstory for Black Hole. Call me cringe all you want but it's mostly a different universe where the contestants have parents and families, which, we don't know where they came from in actuality. But that also gives us free reign to let our creativity flow. So that's exactly what I'm gonna do!

Thank you so much to NariiennTunes as I said, a very good friend of mine who listened to me ramble about this idea and also helped in a lot of areas.

Also, note, that not all of this is gonna be completely accurate to real life astronomy. I'm still learning about it currently but I'm not gonna stress myself out over the accuracy of it because there's a literal black hole in the show and he's not ALWAYS sucking up people left and right, and hasn't destroyed their earth yet. And also, he was compressed into a smaller size. So there you have it. Now, on with the storyline!

And finally, for the people who asked to see it specifically:

@tarochinomochi

@indescribable-infatuation

Way back in the past, growing up, Black Hole, being an alien (in my headcanon/gijinka), lived on a planet called Astramios. Where stars, galaxies, comets and asteroids alike all live together personified in harmony.

Except, it wasn't harmony.

There was constant suffering, death and wars. Higher ups were corrupt and the lower class were forced to accept the fact that they'd never be treated as equal. Aliens alike brushed off constant death as if it was nothing to get sad over.

All, except for few. And one of those few was Black Hole. He was exposed to death from a very early age, his parents not exactly being the most loving or nurturing. Everybody's way of thinking on his planet—

kill or be killed.

He hated it.

He hated the constant death, the wars, the fighting, the screams—the suffering.

He grew up in the middle of war.

But, Black Hole wasn't always Black Hole.

Mu Cephei, son and prodigy of V Cephei and Ky Cygni, some of the most powerful and high class stars on their planet. With a reputation to uphold, there's no room for remorse, or emotions or sympathy. They must raise their son to be able to defend himself and honor his family's name.

Black Hole was once Mu Cephei.

His parents put excessive amounts of pressure on him, especially his dad—V Cephei, who's name was passed onto him. Constant training since the age of 10 to be a soldier, a warrior, a general. A leader.

No matter how much it tired him.

No matter how much it hurt.

No matter how much he just wanted peace.

He must be the best, and continue his family’s legacy.

Mu Cephei never liked fighting, or the training, anything that his family raised him with really—the only thing he was grateful for was knowing how to use his powers, and even then, it was only purposed for fighting.

He doesn't WANT to fight.

But, one day, he had gotten too close to a battle while outdoors, only trying to gather food for himself and his family. That was a mistake.

A blast was sent in his direction, and he couldn't avoid it—and before he knew it—he blacked out.

A while later, he had woken up, but not as his usual self. He was…darker, he felt different, and he was sucking up things around him.

He was a black hole.

By the time he came to, his parents had surrounded him, forcing him up to his feet and leading him home. He had no idea what to do, or say. They seemed angry. He did break one of the first rules they taught him, after all.

Never let your guard down.

He was…scarred, to say the least. As a star, it wasn't as hard to avoid hurting people and cause destruction, because — well…he was a star. Still powerful, but not out of control.

He hardly knew what he was now. And his parents didn't look at him the same anymore.

It ultimately left them disappointed, and ashamed of their own son. They were upper class aliens, for constellation’s sake! He can't destroy both his and their reputation like that!

But either way, they both kept training him. Trained him to re-learn everything as this new species of alien, and Black Hole did his best to follow, even when he felt out of control all the time.

By the time he was of age, the relationship between him and his parents was worse than ever—and the state of their planet was awful. It was evil.

He hated pain, he hated death, and all it had to offer.

He hated seeing others just die on the spot, even with how they all had thoughts and feelings and their own lives—but nobody seemed to care!

It often felt like he was the only one who did.

So, just like that—when he got the chance…

He left, without looking back.

It was a hard decision, all things considered, but he knew he'd survive wandering space—as long as he was careful.

But no doubt it got…lonely.

The constant silence was better than constant war, but it was still…chilling. Being all alone with nobody but yourself was lonely, isolating. But he didn't have a choice. And even then, people still got hurt by him. Traveling into space and getting sucked up by him, the screaming and then the inevitable silence all over again, and he could hardly do anything about it.

Until…he found Earth.

Coming to Earth was an odd decision. With the help of an odd, blue alien, his powers and essence in general was condensed on Earth’s atmosphere so he could live there. Before the challenge started, he was hesitant on even staying, seeing as even with the limited abilities… he was still dangerous. But overtime, he learned to control it better, and was somewhat content.

This world was so beautiful, and so much less corrupt than his old home. People weren't constantly killing eachother.

Okay, that last bit is a lie. Death was still prevelant, and brushed off. But it was more understandable because they had recovery centers, and he liked THAT at least…

But seeing death, over and over again was awful. Traumatizing..Tiring. Like he was living out his old life all over again. Especially if the suffering was at his own hands.

So, obviously, upon joining the challenge and seeing others just as ecstatic about a pacifistic life as he was—was…uplifting.

He felt like he had a chance at not being a monster for once.

He threw away his old name, Mu Cephei, and went by his new one permanently.

Black Hole.

And that's how it all began.

[daily-martyn-itlw]

Day 150: my first drabble here! Finally!! These will be few and far between, but you guys can always submit some prompts u wanna see Martyn in <33

This prompt idea was from this post and provided by the lovley @joifee!

A meeting of the Broken Hearts Club had been called earlier, done so by a message from Ren around midday. A simple message, just saying to be at their little campfire at sunset, with the man's signature RD added at the end. Martyn hummed, eyes scanning over the text. It was just past noon when he received the thing, and assumed Pearl would be getting her own invitation as well. Weather their resident witch would actually show or not was entirely up for debate. Or if she would read the invite at all.

Pearl was....not doing great nowadays. That much was obvious to anyone with eyes. If you ignored how unpredictable her recent actions had been, the girl didn't given look okay. She was broken, and she damn well looked it too. Her eyes were sunken in from sleepless nights, and dog pack never left her side; their owner accompanied by a constant shiver from all the powered snow she sat in. (Really, Martyn wondered when tormenting Scott turned into Pearl tormenting herself as well.) It was quite the intimidating sight, along with her readiness to just pull out an axe. Her presence leaves most people on edge, and he kinda hopes she won't show up when sunset rolls around; even if Ren still wants her there for some reason. (Martyn vaguely feels bad about being one of the people to leave her, and everyone else not helping. He shoves it down. It's easier to call her the Scarlet Witch and ignore it instead)

Sunset rolls around a few hours later, and Pearl does not show. Just as he'd hoped would happen. Probably because Ren had called her wicked last time, so fair enough. Martyn knows he wouldn't have shown either after that as well. And hey, her staying home might’ve been a benefit to all three of their safeties. Well, all six of their safeties, if you counted the people that lie on the other ends of each soulbond. And Martyn certainly did not. (Not like Scott would be safe anyways, if Pearl still had powdered snow on her. Which yeah, she definitely did. Was definitely dumping it everywhere and freezing herself out. Martyn didn't think she went anywhere without these days.)

So tonight it would be just him and Ren, alone at campfire. And Martyn’s not complaining about getting to see Ren again, he'd never do so. The blonde is just....nervous. The two of them don't really talk as often as they used to, that's all. They haven't really be alone together since well....since two games ago. He thinks, as he starts heading towards the clubs little campfire, that's reason enough to be somewhat anxious.

He gets there early, right as the sky starts to turn orange. Ren is almost right behind him, approaching their meeting site from the opposite direction. Martyn had gotten there early out of pure nervousness, but it seems Ren had done the same out of nothing but excitement. He's smiling, his tail is wagging and his ears are perked upwards. It's a sight that Martyn's missed seeing.

"Martyn!" Ren calls out with a wave, his voice full of cheer. The blonde can't help the smile that makes it way onto his face, and waves back.

"Hi Ren!" He says, sitting down on one of the logs they'd placed. "How are you?" Ren sits next to him, his tail still wagging. It causes a low thumping sound against the log, one that quickly fades into the background.

"I'm...doin' okay! How about you?" The brunette smiles as he speaks, but it doesn't hide how strained his words are. Martyn furrows his brows at that, but says nothing of it. Not yet anyways. (It's almost like, now hear him out on this one, that Ren's not doing good and is lying to him. Crazy thought, you know?)

"I'm as good as I can be." The blonde says, his smile also forced. Unlike Ren, he doesn’t need to hide why he wouldn't be okay. The whole sever knows. His sufferings been in full display for the public, and that's not going to change anytime soon. Not until everyone's dead and this game us over, as morbid as that sounds.

Ren smiles at a him, a real one this time. Martyn can tell, his ears drop slightly when he's faking it. "Great! That's great." The blonde smiles back, a gentler one than he had flashed before, and looks for something else to say. He comes up empty. Ren does too.

They end up sitting in silence for a few minutes, looking anywhere but at each other. It's like without Pearl here, neither of them know how to pretend anymore. Which makes sense, there's no one to act for other than the only person neither of them want to put in a show for. The blonde shifts uncomfortably where he sits, ending up even closer to Ren than he had been originally. It's almost like gravity pulls them closer, but Martyn barely notices. There's a lot of his mind. There's a lot on Ren's mind too, if his uncharacteristic silence indicates anything.

Well, someone has to go on and bite the bullet, don't they? And Ren doesn't seem to have any interest in doing so.

"Somethings off with you, man." Martyn is the first to break the quiet, glancing over at his friend. Ren's head is dipped, and he's staring at the grass below them. There seems to be a barely hidden frown either onto his pretty face. Martyn wants to make that look go away more than he wants anything else right now. (He still hates when Ren is upset, it seems.)

"Is it really that obvious?" His friend hums, a low chuckle in his tone. Nothing about this is really funny, but it's one of those laughs people make when they're breaking. Martyn doesn't laugh back.

"Yeah." He confirms, hands wringing together awkwardly in his lap. There's only one reason he knows why Ren mught be so upset, and he doesn't really wanna bring it up, but... "It's BigB, innit?"

"Yeah," Ren admits, looking up from where he had been. The grass must've been really interesting, for him to stare at it for that long. Must've been a lot of cool bugs down there or something. "But I'm with you now, so it's not that bad anymore!"

Martyn feels his breath hitch and his eyes widen upon hearing those words, whipping his head around so he's properly looking at the other. "...Ren.." He breathes, any words wanting to say vanishing in an instant. That was very unexpected but also....surprisingly sweet. (Martyn is ignoring the fluttering of his heart in his rib cage that eleven little words just caused.)

Ren says nothing after that, just reaches over to hold his face gently; like he used to do on those long ago nights, and Martyn knows he going to lean into it before he even does so. Ren notices, of course, and smiles down at him. Martyn thinks he's going to explode. Like, explode into a million trillion pieces, his smile is that wonderful.

After that it's like all those invisible walls they'd placed had been broken down, and they are finally free to be themsleves again. Martyn is cuddled against Ren before he knows it, watching as the days dying light fades into the purple of twilight. Ren has him wrapped in strong, comforting arms, and it's not long before Martyn is using his friend's chest as pillow just like he used too. He missed this more than words could ever say.

"I wish I'd been bound to you instead.." He mumbled, burying in nose against the familiar red fabric of Ren's flannel shirt. If he pretended enough, he could still smell the scent of spruce wood that made up their old base and the carrots growing outside despite the snow.

"Don't say that now." Ren frowns deeply, one of his hands starting to fiddle idly with Martyn’s hair. It feels familiar. It feels nice. No one's really soft with him like this, not anymore. There's no other sound around them other than the crickets and the wind in the trees, like the whole world has stopped for them. Martyn knows that's nonsense and that logically, someone is probably dying halfway across the server right now. But a man can dream, now can't he?

Martyn huffs, shooting a matching frown right back at his friend. The jealousy and the bitterness in his voice would be visible even to a complete stranger. "But it's true, I'd rather have you than Cleo any day!"

Ren seems determined to agrue back, and Martyn just knows his ears have started to point downwards by now. They always do that when he's even mildly upset at something. Always. It's one of his cuter habits. "C'mon man, I'm sure Cleo's not that bad!"

"She is!" Martyn protests, face scrunching up as he remembers how he even got in this dumb Club in the first place. "I didn't even do anything wrong and she just hates me! Picked Scott over me and everything!"

"I think you're a little jealous, Martyn" Ren teases, ears now twitching playfully. I would never leave you stays unsaid in his mind. He doesn't need to say it, Martyn already knows. He and Ren had gone to he'll and back for each other, and would do so all over again in a heartbeat.

"Of who? Cleo or Scott?" The blonde snorts at that. There's no way he's jealous of those two. Why would he be? They're-

"Both." Ren hums, interrupting his thoughts. Martyn feels his cheeks start to burn despite themsleves, and pointedly does not look at his friends knowing grin.

Okay, sure, fine, maybe he's a little jealous of both Scott and Cleo. Maybe he's jealous that they have someone while he basically has nothing. (Maybe he wouldn't mind being soulmates with either of them. Maybe they're both stupid pretty.) But it's not gonna mean anything, not when the game ends. It's not gonna be like Dogwarts, it's gonna mean anything this time...

And of course Ren would tell when he was jealous. He knew him well enough, and had seen him jealous enough time too. Though usually he was jealous over someone else being with Ren, not two whole different people. But there's always a first time for everything.

Martyn, cheeks still red, changes the topic quickly. Ren doesn't comment on it, and goes along to save him further embrassment and a confrontation of some rather messey feelings. "Do you wish you'd be bound to me instead?"

Ren sighs at that, and starts running his fingers through soft blonde hair. "It's complicated..." He mutters, voice strained again. He's frowning too, Martyn can tell without even looking, and wants to kiss it off just like he did in the olden days.

"How?" Martyn asks, deadpan as he goes to hold one of the brunette's hands in his own. If he were in Ren's place, this whole soulmate thing wouldn't be complicated at all. He'd be on his own, much like he is now, especially after everything BigB has done.

Ren sighs again, one long and full of suffering. Martyn wants to suck all the suffering out of his friend and endure it instead, just so Ren never has to feel pain ever in his life. He deserves that and then some. "Well, I still love BigB, but..."

"He's cheating on you!" Martyn exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air abruptly and letting go of the one he'd been holding. "He's doing it openly! The whole damn server knows!" The blonde didn't mean for the outburst, but he finds he can't help it. Ren doesn't deserve that treatment, and even the mere thought of it just causes his blood to boil and his eyes to see a slight tinge of red.

Ren shakes his head, frown deepening, and then easeing up a fraction of a second later. "....I know. But I have you now, so it's gonna be okay!" He says, tail thumping once again. Martyn hadn't even notcied that it stopped, or that it was moving faster now.

The blonde feels his expression go all soft and mushy at that, and moved him closer. Ren smiles, and tilts his chin up, until their lips can softly press together. Fuck BigB, actually. If he won't love and appreciate this man, then Martyn will make that his job again. All starting right now, with this kiss he's need like a desert needs water. And he thinks he's just found the only and best oasis in the worlds largest desert.

I would never treat you like that goes unsaid into the kiss. It doesn't need to be. Ren already knows it's true. Martyn had made sure to treat him better than even the gods themsleves ever could, and is going to keep doing so again; because he should’ve never stopped. From now, until the end of time, he's going to treat Ren like the best man to ever walk the earth. Like the amazing, wondeful person he is, and is going to savor every moment of it. It's not going to be like Dogwarts, like the first time. He's going to make this one last, permanently, all the way until the world stops turning.

[taekookielove0130]

I didn't know

Jjk x reader

"Who the hell even likes teaching maths?"  Jungkook whines and you turn to look at his pouty face now sporting a frown. 

"I do." You say with a smile directed towards him before you hop down from the bench and start kicking the grass in an attempt to ignore the tingles his proximity has been causing in you.

Jungkook has been your friend for as long as you can remember. It started when you moved into the neighbourhood and he was the guy next door who wanted to be friends. You both had an instant connection like... It was just meant to be. You don't know how to explain it but you guys just immediately became best friends. 

Now you're both studying in the same university and are still best friends. He understands when you're uncomfortable and does something about it and you do the same when you know he's hurting and trying to hide it. 

You know that he's the kind that likes to share his happiness and pride and still suffer in silence but you don't let him. You always manage to pull him out of the shell he's been living in. 

You've both been together through all important things in life. He was there for you when you had your first heartbreak and you did the same for him. You've both been immovable constants in one another's lives. It's almost like the presence of one grounds the other. Like an anchor. 

But recently you've been having trouble being the friend he'll never consider romantically. You have been having different reactions around him and when you sat down with a cup of coffee and analysed them you understood that you've caught feelings for him. 

You do know that falling for your best friend does sound clichè but it isn't really. You understand that having such feelings for him can only end in heartbreak and you aren't ready to risk your friendship for anything. Especially not for silly feelings. And even more specifically you know that a relationship with Jungkook is next to impossible as you know that he cannot think of you in that way. 

"Come on YN, you can't be serious." His voice brings you out of your musings and you turn around to face him. 

"Jungkook, I am serious. I've been waiting for an opportunity for so long and I feel like this is it." You say with a determined look and see him in the eyes. 

"But you don't even have a project this week. Why do you want to go today?" He asks and you try to escape the guilt churning your stomach. 

You've been trying very hard to limit the time you spend around him in an attempt to hide or even forget your feelings all week. 

That went so well. You think to yourself with an eye roll and  turn to face him. 

"I don't have a project but I'm planning on staying ahead of my peers. I spoke to our professor and got the project that we're supposed to work on next week." You explain and watch as he takes the information in. 

"Why, though? You know, I've been so excited for this weekend because it's the first one after we had classes and projects continuously. I thought we could hang out, you know? Like the old times?" He asks with a saddened expression and you find your will melting. But you turn to the opposite side because you can't bear to see him like this and know that you won't be able to refuse him if you see his face any longer. 

"Sorry, kookie. I just need to do this. Plus we have a holiday next week, remember? We can go out then."  You plead and turn to look at him which again proves to be a mistake because you can see that he knows that it's just an empty promise. You both know that the whole week, you've been making such promises none of which you've held on to. But you also watch as his expression hardens and he nods his head twice. Almost like he flipped a switch off you see his face turn expressionless and cold. 

"Okay, Yn. I'll see you tomorrow then." He says and hops down before walking away. 

You know what he's trying to do. Of course you do, you were with him the whole time he was suffering. He's closing off. Hiding behind the walls he's built to save himself from getting hurt. It's his defence mechanism and you found this out when he first stopped spending time with you after his breakup. Thinking about that time, your heart clenches painfully and you sigh thinking that's exactly how he must be feeling right now. Sighing again, you turn around to see that he has already left. 

*Time skip 3 days. *

You're in your bed under the covers. The TV is on and your favourite drama is playing but not a single thing is entering your head as you've been thinking about Jungkook the whole time.

The last time he closed off abruptly the way he did earlier that week was when his mom died and he decided not to tell you because he didn't want to worry you. However, you found out something was wrong the moment he cancelled your plans to hang out at your place. You called Jimin (who's your other friend) and immediately went to his place when you were told that Jungkook was there.

 One look at your face and he burst out crying pulling you closer by wrapping his hands around your narrow waist. You patted his shoulders, ran your fingers through his hair and whispered softly to him, feeling your heart aching for him as his tears soaked through your baggy sweatshirt and yours poured down your face. What you were unaware of, was the look Jimin and Jin exchanged behind you. 

That day, you hated jungkook's mom for the way he was crying, knowing that she could do nothing about death. But you still hated her. Knowing that the reason why he is behaving this way now is what you did makes your stomach churn. 

The past few days he hasn't tried talking to you or spoken to your friends. When you called Jin a few minutes back he said that he's been trying to reach Jungkook and he hasn't been answering since the day he closed off. 

Before you even know it, you're making your mind up and tossing the sheets off of your body. Turning off the TV and changing your dress, you lock the house before getting into your car and driving to his place which isn't too far away. 

When you reach there, you ring the bell and wait for a response. Growing irritated after about 2 minutes, you're about to ring the bell again when the door opens and the sight almost has you on your knees begging for forgiveness. Eyes swollen, face red and blotched, Jungkook rubs his eyes standing in front of you. You immediately throw your hands around his shoulders as you can already feel your tears leaking down your face. You can feel his confusion before he recognises you. The small smile that you can feel from the place his lips touch your temple is enough to tell you all you want to know.

"What is it this time?"  He asks, chuckling when you shake your head in response to his shoulder. Understanding that you don't want to talk right now, he wraps his hands around your waist and gently lifts you off the ground. Immediately, you wrap your legs around his waist and burrow your head against his neck. 

Gosh, you can't explain how much you've missed that scent. 

You can vaguely recognise from his movements that he's locking the door to his apartment and carrying you inside. You feel it when he tries to set you down on the couch in the living room and chuckles again at your antics as you refuse to let go. 

Sighing, he sits down and spreads his legs open before he gently places you down in the place between his legs. He gently pulls you closer and places his chin on top of your head. A few minutes pass before you mumble against his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry." 

Prying you off his shoulder, he nudges your chin gently until you meet his eyes. Taking a deep breath he says, 

"YN, you know that you can talk to me about anything right?" 

Sighing you say, 

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." You say and drop your eyes. 

"For what?" 

"For behaving the way I did and... And for ignoring you... And for hurting you the way I did." You mumble in a low voice. 

"YN." He calls softly and continues when you meet his eyes, 

"I know that you didn't mean to hurt me. I also know that what you did hurt you more than me. I just…" He stops. Sighing, he runs his hand through his hair Before saying, 

"Just… Just don't do it again, okay?" 

You look up with tears in your eyes and he offers you a gentle smile and you can see his genuine feelings in his eyes, before he says,  "These three days felt like hell. I already knew that I can never live without you but these three days just showed me everything I needed to see. I realised that I can never, ever go without you." 

Unable to see his hurt expression anymore, you throw yourself on him again as he catches you with ease and gently rocks you back and forth. Seeing him be so honest makes you want to spill everything and you decide to. Pulling away, you gaze into his eyes but he beats you to it saying, 

"It's just that… All good things leave my life. I just don't want to lose you too. Don't leave me?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Feeling like throwing your hands around him again, you control the urge and shake your head facing down. Sniffing, you look up and say,

" Well, I have something to tell you and I want you to answer the question you just asked me." You say and meet his eyes. 

"Jungkook-ah, I've been dishonest to you. I failed to be a good friend. I did something that might ruin our friendship." you admit your fears aloud and watch as he waits for you to continue. Sighing, you look down and compose your thoughts, preparing yourself for the worst before meeting his eyes again. 

"You know we've been friends for so long that I can't even remember when we first became friends. I've confided in you more than I have in my own family and you already know that I trust and value you more than anyone else in the world. But somewhere along the way, I've caught feelings for you. " You whisper the last part and watch as his eyes widen in shock. 

" I…I didn't mean to. You know that I wouldn't risk losing you for anything. I just9… " you rush to justify. Sighing you say, 

"I don't even know how or when. I just realised that I've been thinking about you in a way a friend wouldn't. I love you and you already know that but I'm starting to doubt that my love is purely what a friend feels…" You watch him process all the information and you almost feel bad for giving him so much to digest in such a short span of time. 

"I just.. I've been watching couples lately and I've realised that we've been living just the way a couple do. We have everything in our relationship except for the sexual or the romantic part. I don't even need to tell you all the ways we get each other better than others. We've been there for each other in all important walks of life and you have stood by my side every time I've had to make a hard decision." You pause and try to discern his reaction. 

Unable to recognise anything you sigh. 

"I can totally understand if you don't think of me that way. I know it seems abrupt and I also know that you wouldn't consider pursuing a romantic relationship with me. I just wanted to tell you all of this and get it off of my heart. I've been feeling a heavy weight in my shoulders from the time I recognised my feelings and decided not to tell you. I feel like I've betrayed you and our friendship but I'm truly sorry for it. " You say and search his face. 

"Now I'm going to ask you, Please don't leave me alone?" you plead, your voice so low he has to strain to hear you. A few moments pass as you wait and you sigh, thinking this is the end of all the happiness in your life. Getting up, you tell him one last time, 

" I love you Jungkook-ah. I hope you get to experience true happiness in life." you move away with a heavy heart and everything seems to happen in slow motion there after. 

You feel his fingers wrap around your wrist and you barely have a chance to react before he pulls you. You fall right into his lap with a gasp and blink once as he places his hands on either side of your face, cradling your head gently. He doesn't give you much time to dwell before you feel his lips on yours and your eyes widen comically. 

Unable to process what's happening, you blink one, twice and then realise that this is the moment you've dreamt of. Closing your eyes you whimper and respond eagerly as you move your lips against his. You can clearly feel his smile against your lips.

You open your eyes to see him looking right into you and try to quell the butterflies in your stomach. Leaving your face, you feel his hands journey down your body as one wraps around your waist and the other travels downwards and up inside your oversized t-shirt. 

You gasp at the sensation when you feel his warm fingers against your bare skin and Jungkook uses it to slip his tongue inside your mouth. As you glare at the way he just cheated, you can feel him smirk into the kiss. 

His tongue explores your mouth and you respond just as eagerly matching him with a caress for caress and thrust for thrust. He spreads his hand completely on the bare skin of your waist and uses his other hand to do the same and finds out that one of his hands is large enough to cover almost all the around. 

The contrast of his warm skin against yours and his lips on yours is almost overwhelming as you forget everything except him. You take in each and every detail as you also kiss him fiercely, pouring all the feelings you can't convey using words into the kiss. 

Soon, the need for air separates you, and you both gasp to take huge lungfuls of air. Smiling at each other, you join your foreheads together and he says, 

"I didn't know. I wish I knew earlier so I would have acted upon it…" 

Sighing you say, 

"I didn't either…" 

Looking into each other's eyes you ask at the same time, 

"Don't leave me?" 

" Don't leave, please? "

As he chuckles and you offer a tiny smile, you say

"Never" and he says

"I Won't." 

Cold air enters the room through the windows and you shiver as you feel the warmth of his hands still enveloping your waist. Your face turns crimson and you are no longer bold enough to look him in the eyes as he gives you a tiny smirk on the way to try to hide your cheeks using his shoulders.

Chuckling he says, 

"You know, I always imagined this moment but never ever had my imaginations matched this reality. It can't even compare to how I'm feeling right now with you in my arms. I feel like I just achieved something great." 

Lifting your face, you give him a serious look before you smirk and say, "I know. But now, just shut up and kiss me." 

Returning your smirk with his he says, 

"Gladly." 

____________________________

If you ask me what inspired me to write this, it's a clip from his live where he talks about how much he hates maths. 

Have a good day.

[0wldn0]

Poor Deadend. 😭

Can we get Wildrider? Same questions as the last in terms of personality and which terran they'd get on with and what earth thing he'd like most.

Him being a bit more "wild" makes me wonder how he deals with his aggression.

YESS honestly Wildrider especially was so fun to design for me. Gave him so many sharp features in his design to really give off that strong personality!! I'm gonna copy-paste a message I sent to @/wwheeljack a while ago because I think it starts off answering this ask nicely!! Though, this is going to be an answer for both Wildrider and Dragstrip! Their backstories are intertwined in this AU! I love these tragic brothers...

ABOUT WILDRIDER ok so, Breakdown and Deadend I would say are more… internal ((for lack of a better word)) with their suffering. As in their issues might not be that visible on the outside but they have constant storms going on on the inside. But when it comes to Wildrider and Dragstrip, those two cope with more external behaviours? Dragstrip is goal oriented and does whatever needs to be done to get it. Resulting in him putting himself in danger or not cooperating when Menasor has to fall back. Similarly, and I would say more apparently, Wildrider copes through this "crazy" personality he adopted, which makes him similar to Dragstrip when it comes to throwing himself in danger, but the difference is that Wildrider is NOT goal oriented, he's just throwing himself in danger with not much thought at all. Both Wildrider and Dragstrip's ways of coping are very self-destructive and it's obvious from outside, but while Dragstrip still makes sure he gets out alive due to him being goal oriented, Wildrider doesn't even care how the situation ends up being. He is just doing what he thinks will give him adrenaline and perhaps a strong sense of control in his life. "See? I'm throwing myself in this fiery pit because I CAN. Because NOONE told me to but I CHOSE TO. And if I die because of it then that's because that's MY choice." something like that So I imagine due to this reckless behaviour from Wildrider, he would mess up some plans and perhaps be the most damage to Menasor's psyche when they combine. Leading him to cause more trouble, that leading Megatron to explode at Motormaster for those troubles, and THAT leading Motormaster to explode at Wildrider in the end. So I feel like Wildrider gets the most of Motormaster's abuse out of the four of them. Of course they all struggled in her hands, but due to Wildrider attracting more attention, he was more like a punching bag for her. So I feel like it would be harder for him to forgive Motormaster because she would especially be hard on him. But also it shows growth on his part too because he's being cautious by not forgiving Motormaster too quickly. Which is not something he used to do at all, I don't think "cautious" was even in his vocabulary before he had his growth

End of the copy-paste here! Anyway, right before the Stunticons split up for good, there was a huge argument between all of them, ((mostly just Breakdown and Dragstrip arguing with Motormaster as the other two watch, but they aren't free from being yelled at by Motormaster either)) it ended when Motormaster unfortunately punched Wildrider quite hard after not being able to handle the things he said anymore. After this, Wildrider basically runs away both in anger and fear while Dragstrip follows after him. ((Breakdown also leaves the base after witnessing the scene, his paranoia making it hard to staying anywhere near the base while there's an angry Motormaster in it. While Deadend stays behind and only leaves the room after Motormaster does.))

Wildrider starts driving away from the Decepticon base in high speed, and Dragstrip is right behind him, yelling at him and asking him where is he even going. Wildrider's response being "Anywhere that's not here"

The two drive from city to city with no proper direction for many days. Stopping to steal energon from whoever they can from time to time. The whole time they're on this journey though, they are just arguing. The arguments are mostly caused due to Wildrider throwing himself into situations where he could pretty much end up dead, and Dragstrip having to chase him into the same situations to get him out alive. No matter how much Dragstrip questions why Wildrider is doing these things or how much he tries to get him to just slow down and listen, Wildrider never gives a proper answer. Because, frankly, he is not sure either. He just does the first thing that comes to his mind when face to face with something. Stopping to think is not an option. Because if he stops to think, he'll think about so many things, and he will have to confront so many things about his reality, and he does not want to do any of that. Instead, focusing on the adrenaline any dangerous situation gives him feels better, it feels addictive, and if he ends up dead, he thinks at least it will be due to his own decisions.

Dragstrip is NOT having any of this though. His goal is to just get Wildrider to sit down for a second and just listen to him. He doesn't like the idea of just watching Wildrider die and not doing anything about it. He doesn't like the idea of any of the Stunticons dying, frankly. All his goals were always to make sure the Stunticons would get the good ending they deserve. He always pushed everything to a breaking point just for the possibility that things could be better for the Stunticons in the end. Succeeding in missions and completing the goals meant that Megatron would be pleased, that meant that Motormaster would be in a good mood, and that meant that the Stunticons would be okay. It was one of the reasons Menasor became as uncoordinated as they are because Dragstrip's desire to complete every mission perfectly and never stop even when things are not going according to the plan was overriding many commands from Motormaster. But now their team is broken apart and Wildrider over here is throwing himself into every single dangerous thing they see on their way.

All of this leads to an explosive argument between Wildrider and Dragstrip where they just yell at each other. Dragstrip telling him that he is tired of chasing him and trying to save him from situations he puts himself in, and Wildrider responding that he never asked for Dragstrip to chase him anywhere, and that if he's so bothered about it he can just leave. Dragstrip is seriously insulted at that, because why do you think I would want to leave you?? When you're one of the only people that can truly understand my struggles, because you're living through the same hell as me? Don't you understand that while saving you, I'm also trying to save myself?

This puts the argument to a stop. They both don't know what more to say. Wildrider *wants* to apologise but now that he's thinking about everything he's done, and the stress he put Dragstrip through, he's also thinking about why they're here in the first place, he's thinking about Motormaster, Megatron, the Decepticons as a whole, the war, everything. All these thoughts flowing in his head so suddenly just makes him unable to even hold eye contact with Dragstrip. Overwhelmed, they both agree to just stop for now, they'll talk about it further in the morning.

When they sit down to rest that night, they sit closer to each other. And in the morning, it is a comfort to see each other after waking up, rather than an annoyance.

((I think Wildrider would absolutely love Thrash! I can imagine them both doing high energy and adrenaline inducing missions together! Of course, while also being safe! Dragstrip would get along well with Jawbreaker methinks! I can imagine Dragstrip having a soft spot for him after seeing how kind and polite he is, and how he always has his family in mind when doing something!))

[destinyc1020]

What saddens me the most on this topic, is why are we putting everything constantly on Tom's shoulders?? So what he didn't repost. That young man is being pulled constantly in a thousand directions. His dog just died, he's trying to support Zendaya's movie, he's working, he's expected to help his family and friends with there dreams, he's not been allowed to grieve properly. He's even helping his moms charity by using his name solely to get donations. This is nuts.

Why are we expecting celebrities to say something regardless on there platform?. I just told someone earlier this is a test against not only him, but his relationship, a little bit. He and Zendaya may be deeply in love, but people will turn this around and come after her for being with him if this continues. People don't believe me, but it is true. Because it can affect her career and zendaya overthinks, and possible choices may need to be made. I can tell you right now, that young man would rather break off the relationship than to see her career suffer damage because he knows how hard she has worked for this that he would let it go. I see absolutely nothing wrong with being apolitical. I don't want celebrities speaking for me. I couldn't care less about what they have to say if we are dealing with real world issues. People have been hating on him since he was in school. Enough is enough. And Francesca is not a kid, speak the hell up and tell people that she is being supported as well. If she is. I mean what is he personally supposed to do. Get her a mental health counselor. People aren't going to listen to him. They hate him for being with Zendaya and just being alive, basically.

If I were him, leave the damn play, put a black Romeo in there and let them do it without him. Support everyone from the audience. Give the money back, and just finish off Spiderman with a huge contract. Yes, people want to see him but, no. Get the attention completely off him and put in Daniel Kaaluya and keep.it moving. People have been consistently cruel to this young man for zero good reasons for YEARS NOW since 2016 and before. NOT MONTHS, YEARS. Who cares if he supports zendaya by likes. He liked Francescas stuff as well.

People are going to cause him to remove himself sooner than later from public life. Anything that is positive in the world doesn't have a chance. Look how they jumped on Zendaya over a damn seat at a fashion show regarding Law and were just cruel as ever. She gets it in doses, he gets in every time. From his looks, height, hair, etc.

Fuck racist. But, people should be calling on Elon Musk more so than anything to make this shit stop.

I think I'm going the same way as the other anon. It's not fun anymore. Tooo much negativity towards one person. ALL THE TIME IS INSANE. No racists can remove me,but I will support Tom and Zendaya by going to the movies and watching my TV.

I realized recently...I can imagine Tom and Zendaya hate that their relationship is public. The constant beat downs take there toll. People will lift her on a pedestal and slam him daily or vice versa depending on the topic. They don't care about him. Only if he's a good boyfriend or not.

I always wonder where are his publicist, and why don't they get ahead of shit before it gets to this??? What is he paying for? They sure don't do much to keep him in a positive light I know that much, EVER.

Thanks for letting me rant.

Okay Girl.... I need you to take some deeeeep breaths in and out for me....

Maybe you're just ranting and letting off some steam, but nothing you mentioned is going to happen. This isn't going to affect Tom and Zendaya's relationship, they're not going to quit the play, and I don't think TZ regret anything about their relationship....not even being public. (If you ask me, hiding profusely was stifling and not conducive for a long-term relationship of two massive celebrities in the public eye imo)

I personally don't need for celebrities to speak out on political issues on social media either (especially if they haven't done their research and don't know what they're talking about), but to try and pretend that people aren't going to have ANY reactions/thoughts/feelings about what's going on in the world when they live in the same country, or earth that we live on is just naive imo.

Also, not ALL celebrities were born rich. In fact, MANY were just regular degular working-class citizens like you and me. So to say that some are "out of touch".... Like, how do you know that? How do you know what types of lives some people have had before they became famous? Just saying.... Some have had worse lives than I have even had before they got famous lol. Just saying lol.

Anyway.... I think it's good for you all to take a long break from Twitter (or maybe even all of social media) for a while. Either that, or just limit what you choose to look at. If you see that there's something negative on there, immediately click OUT of tweet, quickly scroll away, or go search something else.

[ihavenothingtodo10220]

Hiya! I hope I'm doing this right since I've never interacted on tumblr before 😭 I'd like a compatibility reading, including NSFW, with Hyunjin from Stray Kids 😊 (very predictable based on my username lol) I just turned 20, so don't worry about me being a minor. I'm quite experienced in astrology so I have done the compatibility myself, but I would love to get an opinion from someone else 🙂 Hope I provided enough information with my planets and houses. Thank you in advance! ❤

Sorry it took me so long to get to this! I've been busy and this long ass queue has been daunting, but now that i've worked out a better system for these readings I got this.

Astrological Placements

Sun

The sign you use for your daily horoscope represents your identity. That sign is your sun sign. If sun signs are compatible, there’s a positive energy surrounding the relationship. Your vibes flow as one, and you’re naturally attracted to each other’s personalities, making you a perfect match. So that's what we'll be starting with.

So, right off the bat, we have a Pisces Sun + Capricorn Sun.

Capricorn is very grounded, and almost immovable in a way. Like the mountains the ram that represents them live in. Very conservative and sensible. Pisces, however, is very unrestricted, quick, and always trying new things. Like a fish in the vastness of the ocean, always darting off in different directions and exploring new seas.

Capricorn is ruled by Jupiter, the planet of retribution. and difficulty. Capricorns are anchored, hardworking, and very very trustworthy. But Pisces is ruled by Uranus and Saturn. Saturn specifically rules ambition, intellect, and boundaries. Because of this Pisces is very independent and unique, and generally brilliant.

If you talk things through and voice your emotions when things are rough for you, it could probably work. But you'll both keep your emotions to yourselves, which can cause a lot of friction. You also will both hate to share your fears and weaknesses with one another and will generally walk on eggshells around one another emotionally, with both of you constantly dancing around your feelings.

But if you can get through this, your relationship can go well. You both expect devotion and can help each other with your goals. Affection, devotion, and confidence will come easily to you.

Moon

The moon governs your inner needs and desires. What you hope to achieve in a relationship emotionally and long-term can be found by looking at the characteristics of your moon sign. If you share the same moon sign as your partner, you're soulmates basically. I'm about to get poetic here.

So...How do I put this gently? Virgo Moon + Sagittarius Moon is a match made in the boxing ring.

Hyunjin, with his Virgo moon, is like the earth. Nurturing the crops, giving life to them, even. So soft, and constant, and nurturing. And then there's you! You, my friend, are like a wildfire. Burning everything. EVERYTHING. Causing destruction to everything including Hyunjin's crops he nurtured for so long, and cared for so dutifully. Hyunjin gets the worst of it, but you also suffer too. The fire damages the crops, and the earth stops the fire from spreading.

You both need to be right. You'll argue, and argue, and if somehow you make it to marriage, guess what you'll do? Argue, my friend! You both want to be right, no...You both REQUIRE being right to function. You'll both truly believe you're right too. And you're both very...Uhm...How do I put this? Verbally gifted. That's a word. You'll both say stuff that's meant to hurt and will be scarily effective in terms of hurting. You're armed and dangerous. What is the weapon, you may ask? That fucking tongue.

You need to be free. Hyunjin needs things to be perfect. Hyunjin will need reassurance that you'll stick around and stability, but you can't do that. You're kind of like...A gold digger! That's a horrible analogy, actually. You're like that rabbit in my yard. If the conditions are right? You'll stay, and you'll thrive. But if I approach let alone try and grab you and make you stay? You'll run away, and never come back. And all you'll leave behind is chewed grass. You're like a wild horse. Hyunjin pulls and pulls and tries so hard to break you in but you keep bucking and bucking and fighting, because you're wild at the end of the day, and can't be the stable companion Hyunjin needs and thinks he can make you into. So you know what he'll do? He'll stop trying. He'll let you run free, as wild as you've always been.

If this ever does get to a wedding, it will be because you were dragged to the altar, tied up in a nice and cozy straight jacket. And guess who's waiting for you at that altar? Hyunjin, in a nice and pretty matching straight jacket. Neither one of you really wants the other, you see each other as fundamentally flawed.

See...Growing old together? Probably never going to happen. Either Hyunjin will kick you out or chase you away, or you'll go out to get milk and disappear off the face of the earth. Either or. Either way, Hyunjin is changing those damn locks before he's even sure if you disappeared or not.

Hyunjin needs everything to be perfect, clean, and orderly. You couldn't give less of a fuck. Hyunjin budgets so nicely, so carefully, and so thoroughly. You couldn't give less of a fuck about some budget. Do you need to try new things? Break from HIS routine? Go on a walk without checking in with HIS schedule? Hyunjin doesn't give a fuck. You better not. You need something without structure, Hyunjin needs something that doesn't just HAVE structure, but IS structure.

You don't want Hyunjin's structured, rigid, scheduled, perfectionist love and lifestyle. You feel like you're missing out, and life and all it has to offer is slipping through your fingers. And Hyunjin? He thrives on those things. He doesn't want the chaos you bring, purposeful or not. Hyunjin grows old because he takes care of himself. You grow old out of sheer luck and probably some protagonist buff. But together? You wouldn't strangle each other. You would simply walk away and never look back. And maybe, just maybe...That's what's best.

Now you may be asking..."But Moon, what about the sex? Is the sex good?" Well...How do I put this? Uhm...If you didn't think it could get worse it just got worse.

Hyunjin thinks of sex as a way to finally let loose in a very controlled environment. You want sex because it's all friendly, sporty, and active! And because you like orgasms! You have no patience for the foreplay Hyunjin thrives off of. The long and tender yet sensual kisses, the lingering touches and soft gasps that Hyunjin could spend hours on alone. The getting ready for the act itself. His goal isn't an orgasm. But that's the only thing for you. You can't turn him on the way he wants to be with foreplay, you don't shower before the sex or have sweet pillow talk. Hyunjin feels like he got landed with someone paid to do this. Impersonal, someone who just wants to skip through the intimacy to the climax and get done with it as quickly as possible. After a while, he starts to lay down the rules, which if not obeyed, means no sex. This usually results in bed death for the relationship. And blue balls.

So...I'm a blunt as fuck realistic pessimist who usually gives zero fucks, but I'm also the therapist and even I feel bad now. This did you so dirty. So how do you make it work? This is a really tough one to fix. These two Moon are really fucking incompatible and you need to change...Pretty much your entire being to make it work. It may be best if you don't try to make it a permanent relationship. You need to be free to come and go, and Hyunjin needs to be free to have a life without chaos. If you're not married, and not attached at the hip, this solves the major problem. However, if you do wish to marry or be together for the long haul, you might want to simply live in different homes, or live next door to each other. Or MAYBE, one of you can get a nice little space in that separate mini house. I think it's the mother-in-law suite? That's not the point though. If you can give each other the physical space you need to live as you please, you can focus on the things that brought you together in the first place… whatever those things are. I dunno.

So, yeah! Thoughts and prayers that the other aspects will be...Redeemable!

Venus + Mars

Overlapping planetary alignments could mean you’re meant to be together. Venus is the Goddess of Love, whereas Mars is the God of War. Together, these planets represent the battle of love and relationships. Notice what houses these planets rest in on your charts. If your Venus is in the house where your partner’s Mars is (or vice versa), this could mean you’re star-crossed lovers.

So now, we have Aquarius Venus + Pisces Venus! You're both dreamers, but you'll definitely provide him with more clarity. He brings out your tender side, but only if you avoid a power dynamic that's out of whack. 

And then there's Aries Mars + Aries Mars! The double Mars in Aries combination makes for most definitely a sexy life, and the two of you go gang-busters in the bedroom with barely time for breath or...Anything else, really. Between hectic sex sessions. Watch you don’t wear each other out. Things can get pretty competitive too... just remember making love is not a race and there’s no prize for coming first! Except perhaps a child! (That was a pun) definitely some of the roughest, kinkiest shit ever. I'm talking head banging into the headboard, the headboard banging into the wall type shit. So like...Sounds kinda violent, not gonna lie. But to each their own, I dunno. Sounds hot in kinda an unrealistic way, but it's just not my cup of tea. Though...The roughness I wouldn't mind, actually, now that I'm really thinking about it. But I'm getting sidetracked.

And now, the million-dollar matchup! The make-or-break question for Mars + Venus compatibility! Aquarius Venus + Aries Mars! Both of you are highly independent and bent on doing their own thing. But is this a case of too much freedom for a committed relationship to be formed? That may or may not have been rhetorical, we may never know. You are like an outsider in your own relationships. You can be a loyal partner, but you're most comfortable expressing your love with friendly detachment. You can be very understanding of your partner’s emotional needs and are not phased by demands. Traditional relationships are not your thing, you need room to express your quirky energy and a partner who understands this. Hyunjin must also accept that there will always be a part of you that he cannot touch. Hyunjin brings the heart of a warrior to his relationships. Full-on passion and excitement are what he has to offer. However, he has no use for romance or niceties. Blunt and impatient, he can be childish when he wants something (or someone). A creature of instinct, he will charge ahead without thinking when he finds someone he is attracted to. The chase is what turns him on, and he’ll quickly get bored if he’s not challenged (but if he’s left hanging too long he’ll move on to the next prospect) Hyunjin will be captivated by your cool, edgy glamor, and you'll be intrigued by his boldness. Things will heat up quickly between you two as you enjoy an adventurous, impulsive affair. Each will appreciate the others’ need for space, and it’s doubtful that you'll sit still long enough for boredom to set in. But this could contribute to the relationship’s lack of stability. You can be ferociously stubborn about doing your own thing, and Hyunjin will just do what he wants without asking. He may get frustrated with what he perceives as your lack of response to his passionate demands. Both will be so focused on their respective liberties that a long-term bond may never develop. Without some grounding influences in your charts, this relationship could burn out quickly.

Lunar Nodes

These points can tell you if your paths were meant to cross. Lunar nodes are not signs but are points showing the moon’s orbit. There are two nodes—southern and northern—represented on your birth chart by an axis. The south node portrays your past. The north node predicts your future.

Hyunjin: Leo South Node + Aquarius North Node, You: Taurus South Node + Scorpio North Node

When it comes to compatibility, you may face certain challenges due to their differing energetic imprints. The Leo South Node represents a past life focus on self-expression, leadership, and seeking attention, while the Taurus South Node signifies a past life emphasis on stability, practicality, and material comfort.

In terms of communication, clashes may arise as Hyunjin tends to be more assertive and expressive, craving the limelight and recognition. On the other hand, you value a harmonious and peaceful environment, preferring stability over constant attention.

Additionally, your approaches to emotional expression and affection may differ significantly. Hyunjin thrives on passion, drama, and grand gestures, whereas you seek security, loyalty, and a steady emotional foundation.

When it comes to long-term goals and values, conflicts may arise as well. Hyunjin may have a strong desire for personal achievement and recognition, often pursuing ambitious endeavors. Meanwhile, you value financial security, comfort, and a slower-paced, stable lifestyle.

Hyunjin carries a soul mission to embrace uniqueness, independence, and a visionary perspective. They are driven by a desire to revolutionize society, challenge traditional norms, and bring forth innovative ideas. On the other hand, you are on a path of transformation, seeking deep emotional connections, and delving into the mysteries of life.

You two possess distinct energies, which can create both intrigue and conflict within your relationship. Communication may present challenges, as Hyunjin tends to focus on intellectual discussions and detached reasoning. He thrives in group settings, seeking intellectual stimulation and unconventional ideas. Meanwhile, you crave deep emotional connections and intimacy, often preferring intense one-on-one conversations.

Emotional expression may become a point of contention as well. Hyunjin tends to approach emotions from a rational and detached standpoint, sometimes struggling to connect on a deep emotional level. In contrast, you are passionate, and intense, and seek profound emotional experiences.

Their long-term goals and values may also differ significantly. Hyunjin is driven by a desire for social change, often placing importance on humanitarian causes and intellectual pursuits. Meanwhile, you value personal transformation, depth, and the exploration of much deeper things.

When it comes to compatibility, you (say it with me) may face challenges due to your divergent energetic imprints. Again the Aquarius North Node represents a soul mission focused on embracing individuality, intellectual pursuits, and societal change. In contrast, the Taurus South Node signifies a past life emphasis on stability, practicality, and material comfort.

Communication may present hurdles in your relationship. Hyunjin thrives on intellectual stimulation, innovative ideas, and freedom of expression. He is drawn to group dynamics and progressive discussions. On the other hand, you value stability, tradition, and practicality. You may prefer a slower pace and find comfort in routine.

Emotional expression could also be a point of contention. Hyunjin tends to approach emotions from a logical and detached perspective, sometimes struggling to connect on a deep emotional level. In contrast, you value security, loyalty, and tangible expressions of love and affection.

Long-term goals and values may (say it with me) diverge significantly. Hyunjin is driven by a desire for social change, embracing unconventional ideas, and challenging the status quo. They prioritize intellectual pursuits and humanitarian causes. Conversely, you value financial stability, comfort, and a slower-paced, grounded lifestyle centered around the material world.

Communication may present challenges within your relationship. Hyunjin is (say it with me) inclined towards self-expression and seeking attention, often craving the spotlight. He possesses a charismatic and dramatic flair, relishing in the limelight. Conversely, you value depth, authenticity, and emotional connection in their interactions. You may prefer one-on-one conversations.

Power dynamics could become a point of contention as well. Hyunjin naturally exudes a regal and confident aura, often desiring control and admiration. He thrives on being the center of attention. In contrast, you seek a profound emotional connection and may be wary of power struggles or superficial displays of dominance.

Long-term goals and values may also (say it with me) differ significantly. You yearn for recognition, validation, and a sense of personal significance. You often prioritize personal ambitions and the pursuit of your passions. You value personal transformation, and emotional depth, and may be drawn to spiritual or metaphysical pursuits.

Overview

So, I like you! And I really feel bad about this reading but I also wanna be honest about what i've found from this. So, here's a brief overview of everything we covered:

Sun sign represents identity and can influence a relationship.

Pisces Sun + Capricorn Sun is a perfect match.

Capricorn is grounded, conservative, and sensible, while Pisces is unrestricted, quick, and adventurous.

Capricorn is ruled by Jupiter, retribution, and difficulty, while Pisces is ruled by Uranus and Saturn, ambition, intellect, and boundaries.

Pisces is independent, unique, and generally brilliant.

Both partners may keep emotions to themselves, causing friction.

They may avoid sharing fears and weaknesses, leading to emotional turmoil.

Despite potential friction, the relationship can go well if they can communicate and work towards goals.

Hyunjin's Virgo moon symbolizes the earth, nurturing and giving life to crops.

You symbolize the wildfire, causing harm and destruction.

Both parties need to be right to function, and both believe they are right.

Both parties are verbally gifted, causing harm and fear.

They both desire freedom and stability, but Hyunjin needs reassurance and stability.

Hyunjin's desire for perfectness and order is not met by you.

Hyunjin's strict budgeting and strict routines are not met by you.

Hyunjin's perfectionist lifestyle is not desired by you.

Hyunjin thrives on these aspects, while you thrive on chaos.

Together, they would not strangle each other but would walk away and never look back.

You and Hyunjin are in a volatile relationship, with Hyunjin attempting to break you in.

You see Hyunjin as flawed and wants to be free, while Hyunjin sees them as someone he can make into a stable companion.

You and Hyunjin have a strong possibility of either a fight or a disappearance.

Hyunjin values perfection and cleanliness, while you prefer a more relaxed lifestyle.

You feel like you are missing out on life and the opportunities it offers, while Hyunjin thrives on these aspects.

You and Hyunjin's relationship is strained, with Hyunjin viewing sex as a controlled environment for letting loose.

You are not patient with Hyunjin's foreplay, showering before sex, or having sweet pillow talk.

Hyunjin starts to set rules for sex, which if not followed, can lead to bedtime issues and a strained relationship.

The relationship between you and Hyunjin is incompatible and requires significant changes.

Avoiding a permanent relationship is recommended for both parties.

For non-married individuals, living separately or next door can solve the major issue.

If marriage is desired, consider living in separate homes or a separate mini house.

Providing physical space allows for focus on the things that brought them together.

The hope is that the other aspects will be redeemable. (They're not)

Aquarius Venus + Pisces Venus: Both dreamers, providing clarity and bringing out tender side.

Aries Mars + Aries Mars: Both are highly independent and comfortable expressing love with friendly detachment.

Aquarius Venus + Aries Mars: Both are highly independent and impulsive, but may not be in a committed relationship.

Hyunjin brings passion and excitement, but is impatient and childish.

Things will heat up quickly as they enjoy an adventurous, impulsive affair.

However, this could contribute to the relationship's lack of stability.

Hyunjin may get frustrated with your lack of response to his passionate demands.

Without grounding influences in your charts, the relationship could burn out quickly. (There are some but they just bring more problems. So.)

Leo South Node: Represents past life focus on self-expression, leadership, and attention.

Taurus South Node: Depicts past life emphasis on stability, practicality, and material comfort.

Communication: Hyunjin's assertiveness and desire for recognition may lead to conflicts.

Emotional expression: Hyunjin values passion, drama, and grand gestures, while you value security, loyalty, and a steady emotional foundation.

Long-term goals and values: Hyunjin may desire personal achievement and recognition, while you value financial security, comfort, and a slower-paced lifestyle.

Soul mission: Hyunjin embodies uniqueness, independence, and a visionary perspective, driven by a desire to revolutionize society.

Compatibility: Challenges due to divergent energetic imprints.

Long-term goals and values: Hyunjin prioritizes social change, while you value personal transformation and deeper exploration.

Communication: Hyunjin's focus on intellectual stimulation and group dynamics may present communication challenges.

Power dynamics: Hyunjin's charismatic and dramatic flair may be a point of contention, while your desire for depth and emotional connection may be a concern.

So...Essentially, the two of you aren't very compatible. HOWEVER! I think you may be able to work through it with A LOT of couple's therapy, and separate living arrangements. Maybe. I believe in you!

[bengiyo]

Cutie Pie 2 You Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

I was not expecting 2Cutie2Pie at all with our 2023 slate, let alone as one of the opening shows of the year. I will admit I am intrigued, and also relieved that this is only four episodes. I couldn't take another ten episodes of people refusing to talk to their partners.

I love that they tried to put the main cast behind Nu-Kuea and Lian, but Nat is too short.

I just know some of the astrology folks are doing some calculations to figure out signs right now.

If these two don't stop with these busted public proposals. It's so stressful.

Love how Lian and Yi give each other constant shit about their boys.

Doesn't Lian have a company to run? Getting jealous during Nu-Kuea's final test is doing him no favors.

Nuea, with the veteran experience of someone who tried and failed to court Nu-Kuea, is now an ally in the cause to keep other suitors at bay.

Oh lord the BL shirts continue. Nu-Kuea's says, "Good, Good! Times, Times!" Nuea's says, "TEXAS: Where farting is considered a competitive sport."

Syn as pouty and clingy is exactly what I expected.

I must say, having a character named Nu-Kuea hanging out with a character named Nuea does those of us without tonal language familiarity any favors.

At least Nu-Kuea is being direct in this rejection. He's also right that Sia shouldn't just put hands on him. Nuea is ready to scrap, so I'm on my way with a bat.

I don't think either of them should be driving.

Oh good, Lian is here and sober. I do like that these two are now doing established couple kisses. I hope Sia saw that and is suffering somewhere.

Why does Nu-Kuea have a little shrine to Lian in every place he stays?? These two are ridiculous.

These two have the better make outs we've seen in the last year. I'll give them that.

Lian pulling back and gently ending this encounter because he thinks Nu-Kuea is too drunk is an excellent use of an older partner. Big fan of this. Even established couples need to be clearheaded about sex.

I feel like Max has been working on his seme stance.

I do like the seme hover to put on a seatbelt.

Sia seems appropriately cowed.

Totally get this manager lamenting losing good talent. It's hard out here.

Yes, I'm glad Sia apologized properly this time.

Poppy!!! He is always having the most fun in any role.

Love how we cut to Sia's disaffected expressions whenever Nu-Kuea gives Lian attention. You know Lian is going to make sure it is KNOWN that he is with Nu-Kuea.

Cutie Pie is always just going to be slightly off for me. It's a lot of fun, but not always to my taste.

[someguywriting]

throwing in my two cents to GBU analysis, trigger warning if you don't do well with discussion of human suffering

It's very important to me that other people understand the pure horror that was civil war prison camps, to better understand the context of what Tuco and Blondie saw

Andersonville, a confederate prison camp which housed union soldiers caught on the battlefield, was a hellish nightmare death camp. There was quite literally a wall of death, lined with blood and bodies from people who approached it: the water was poisoned, POISONED, unfit for humans or animals because of the amount of sickness, death, and bodily horror within the prison: here's some passages from an NY Times article published in 1865 painting the horror of it all

the Confederate soldier Henry Wirz who ran Andersonville was executed for WAR CRIMES

if you were a confederate soldier captured on the battlefield, you likely stood a slightly better chance of survival because the Union was better funded than the south, and they generally had more resources to feed their prisoners

but generally, the point I'm trying to make is that even in a union camp (for example, Elmira Prison, which may loosely be worth studying in connection to the GBU) the three would see horrors. men starved to the bone, dying in their own rotting guts, abused by guards, etc, this is why I appreciate this specific scene, the actor playing the violin who managed to show all that emotion.. brilliant

the prison camp, I think, is one of the greatest indicators of the difference between the good, the bad, and the ugly

the bad, angel eyes, commands the camp and is a guard there, an instrument in these poor suffering prisoners literal hell: he's very heavily implied to be abusing them and torturing them, even before Tuco and Blondie showed up! and why would he do that, why would he torture them if it's not bringing him anything? when conditions are that terrible, and the prisoners likely have nothing left to give, why is angel eyes still torturing them? because he truly is the bad, and he likes it, he likes seeing the fear and suffering, causing it

the ugly, Tuco, doesn't give a damn about it and cares about his own personal gain: it's not like he stops to smell the fresh blood and take in the sight of rotted organs, in fact he's shown to be somewhat disgusted by it, but that doesn't mean he's empathetic at all; he's devoid of caring, apathetic about the bloody war in front of him, a truly ugly point of view

imagine being a prisoner of war, captured and thrown into a hellish place where your captors don't care whether or not survive the winter, and then along comes a man who has not fought in your war, has not really taken in or cared about the suffering surrounding him, and still jumps with glee at the chance for what he wants. yeah, that's pretty fucking ugly

Blondie is the good, which from a technicality standpoint, is questionable because he has the highest kill count of the movie: but from a historical civil war standpoint, he is the most empathetic (mostly inwardly) of the three

his act of blowing up the bridge later in the film is shown to at least somewhat connect with what the major says about the bridge, and how it's the source of fighting: some part of Blondie, however small, did it out of empathy and to stop the constant slaughter, and later in the film the more well known scene of him comforting a dying soldier (as he gets his signature poncho) is a direct act of empathy

Blondie isn't bad, directly contributing to the suffering of human lives, he's not ugly, apathetic and wilfully ignorant, but an outward part of his already repressed emotions is sympathetic towards conditions and deaths of the civil war

so, did I just explain the very obvious? Yes! but I really wanted to put it into historical context, on why from an anti war and historical civil war context, these men truly are good, bad and ugly

ps, do not search up any info on civil war prison camps if you don't do well with grotesque images/facts of human suffering

[minhoskofi]

chapter 11: lost

warnings: slight angst?

word count: 2k

masterlist

For true love knows no boundaries, and sometimes it takes losing yourself to find your way back home.

It had been a month since the break up and every passing day felt like a struggle for both of you. The passage of time didn't make the pain any less real. Byounggon couldn't bring himself to leave the cafe, even though it was a constant reminder of the love he had lost. Seeing you every day was bittersweet and as much as he hated to admit it, he did miss you.

You, on the other hand, were going through a rollercoaster of emotions. In the beginning, you’d often find yourself lost in the memories of your time together which always ended with you in tears. But as time went on, they became a torment. The guilt of your actions weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you couldn't help but despise yourself for what you had done, for the way you had fucked it all up. 

And at times, anger would bubble up inside you, directed not only at Byounggon for his lack of trust, but also at yourself for allowing things to spiral out of control. You questioned every decision you had made, every word you had spoken, wondering if things could have turned out differently if only you had been more careful, more mindful of the consequences of your actions.

But in the end, the truth was, you missed him to death. 

The one person who had been there for you through it all, was Seunghun. He had been there for you since the day of the break up, when you showed up at his doorstep in tears. He had been your shoulder to cry on, your sounding board, and your voice of reason. 

At nights when you felt like losing yourself in your thoughts and drowning in your tears, he would come over with snacks and your favorite sweets.

"I just can’t believe that the person I thought I’d spend forever with is now a stranger." You turned to him as he was yet again over at your place to comfort you.

Despite being a good friend, Seunghun couldn't help but feel guilty for what had happened between you and Byounggon. Till this day, he kept apologizing for that night and his reckless behavior. You always reassured him that it wasn't his fault, but Seunghun couldn't shake off the feeling that he was the one who caused you this pain.

He had been persistent, to say the least. Persistent in relentlessly pestering you to give him Byounggon's phone number. 

"Just let me talk to him, y/n. Man to man. I have to straighten out this whole misunderstanding." His intentions were clear as day. And while you appreciated his concern and his efforts to make things right, a part of you couldn't help but feel hesitant.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Seunghun," you explained, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I'm not sure if reaching out to Byounggon is the right thing to do. What if it just makes things worse?"

Seunghun shook his head, his expression earnest. "I understand your worry, I really do. But I can't stand and watch you suffer like this. Byounggon needs to know the truth, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make you smile again."

You sighed, feeling torn between conflicting emotions. On one hand, you longed for closure and resolution, but on the other hand, you feared the pain of rejection, of reopening old wounds that had barely begun to heal.

"I just don't know if I'm ready for this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seunghun reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "I understand, y/n. And I promise to tread carefully. Just let me make things right."

You looked down at your hand in his, it looked so small. "Please be honest," you started, lifting your head to meet his eyes. "Do you have feelings for me?" The question hung in the air, heavy with anticipation and uncertainty.

Seunghun’s gaze bore into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself unable to look away.

"Yes." In that moment, with your hands intertwined and your faces mere inches apart, the world seemed to fade away. "I’ve always had." You could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours, the proximity sending your heart racing in your chest.

"I’m so sorry." You pitied him for everything you’ve been putting him through. "I was too blind to notice."

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Seunghun pulled away ever so slightly as he cleared his throat, a faint flush of color dusting his cheeks. "It's not as simple as that, y/n. I care about you. Deeply. And I want what's best for you. And right now, what's best for you is to find peace and closure with your boyfriend."

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. "Maybe… you're right."

As you allowed yourself to lean into his touch, a sense of gratitude washed over you. You hugged him tight, seeking refuge in the warmth of his embrace. His arms encircled you protectively, offering silent reassurance and unwavering support.

"Thank you, Seunghun," you whispered softly. "I’d be so lost without you."

He stayed quiet for a while, and then just like that, out of the blue, he asked, "Do you love him?" His voice was soft yet filled with an underlying intensity.

You were taken aback by the directness of his question, the weight of it pressing down on you heavily. For a moment, you were at a loss for words.

As you searched for the right ones to respond, memories of your time with Byounggon flooded your mind again – the laughter, the gentle caress of his touch, his warmth, hell, even the sex. And amidst it all, a realization dawned upon you like a beacon of light in the darkness.

"Yes," you whispered, feeling a knot tightening in your throat. "Yes, I do love him."

It was a confession long overdue, a truth finally laid bare for yourself to acknowledge.

Seunghun's eyes softened with understanding, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Then you know what you need to do," he said gently, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled soul, "Let me talk to him. It’s partly my mess to clean up, too."

With a reluctant nod, you handed over Byounggon's contact information to Seunghun.

Would he be willing to listen? Would he be open to the possibility of reconciliation, of finding closure and healing together?

Well.

He was, in fact, willing to listen. 

The next day, as Seunghun sat down at a table with Byounggon after his shift, he could see the pain and hurt in his eyes that still lingered. 

Byounggon was guarded, his walls built high to protect his heart. But Seunghun wasn’t going to give up that easily. He knew he had to try and make him see reason.

"I know you’re hurt and angry, but please listen to me," Seunghun began, his voice pleading. "Nothing happened between us that night."

Byounggon’s expression remained stoic, but Seunghun could see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. And so he continued, "I know you love her, and deep down, I believe you know she loves you too. Don’t let this misunderstanding ruin what you have. It would be a shame to throw away such a beautiful relationship."

"I can’t just forget what I saw," Byounggon retorted, his voice cracking a little.

"For fuck’s sake dude! We were drunk, yes, but regardless of that nothing happened, I swear!" Seunghun argued. "You know her, Byounggon. She’s not the type of person to cheat or betray someone she loves. And she loves you. Don’t let your pride and anger blind you to that."

Byounggon fell silent, his gaze shifting to the ground as he processed Seunghun’s words. Slowly, the walls around his heart began to crumble, and the pain and hurt were replaced with a longing.

"She never did anything to hurt you," Seunghun reminded him gently. "Give her a chance to explain. Don’t let this ruin what you have. You both deserve a chance at happiness."

As Byounggon sat alone in the empty cafe, the weight of his regret pressing down heavily on him, he couldn't help but wonder if it was too late to make things right. If he could turn back time, would he have made a different choice? Would he have fought harder, instead of letting your love slip through his fingers?

He stared blankly at the empty tables, his thoughts swirling in a thunderstorm of emotions. Unable to quell the turmoil raging within him, Byounggon reached for a pen and a piece of paper. Despite the passage of time and the hardships he had faced, his passion for songwriting had never disappeared. It was his solace, his sanctuary in moments of darkness and despair.

He began to jot down lyrics, the words flowing from his pen like a river of emotion. Each line was a confession, a plea for forgiveness, a desperate attempt to express the depth of his regret and longing.

As he poured his heart and soul onto the page, Byounggon kept writing and writing, all night long.

You walked aimlessly through the neighborhood’s streets, the cold night air embracing you, making you feel at peace. But when you passed by the cafe, that peace quickly dissipated as you noticed the lights were still on and confusion washed over you.

As you stepped into the dimly lit cafe, your gaze fell upon a sleeping Byounggon, who lay slumped over the table, his form illuminated by the soft glow of the overhead lights. A pang of sadness tugged at your heart as you watched him, his exhaustion evident.

With a sigh, you approached him, your footsteps silent against the wooden floor. You couldn't help but feel a rush of tenderness as you looked upon him.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for his jacket. You found it draped carelessly over a nearby chair and with careful movements, you draped the clothing over his shoulders, tucking it around him like a protective cocoon.

Taking a seat opposite him, you settled in to watch over him, your gaze unwavering as you drank in the sight of him. He looked so peaceful in his sleep.

Unable to resist the urge, you reached out to stroke his hair, your touch feather-light against the soft locks. You trailed your fingers down to his face, tracing the contours of his features with gentle caresses.

As you touched him, a wave of emotion washed over you, threatening to overwhelm your fragile composure. Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over onto your cheeks.

You had missed him – missed the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, the way he made you feel alive. And now, seeing him so vulnerable before you, you couldn't help but long to hold him close, to make things right between you once and for all.

As your fingers brushed against Byounggon's closed eyelids, he felt a gentle tug at his heart. Sensing your touch, he slowly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. The intensity of your stare took him aback, but he couldn't look away.

"Why?" he questioned softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as he caught your hand in his. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a spark of warmth within you.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you stuttered. "'Cause... I miss you," you confessed, your voice trembling with raw honesty.

Byounggon's grip tightened around your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours as he held your gaze. In that moment, no other words were needed.

"I miss you too," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the cafe. And then for a very long while, without breaking eye contact, you stood there in the stillness, your fingers intertwined, your hearts laid bare.

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