#like. i'm not even close to writing that part of the story. and I thought I would have made up my mind on it so long ago

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: panic attack

word count: 5k

A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊

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Mid February 2024

Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it. 

It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.

Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.

The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.

Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.

The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.

And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.

Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.

So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"

"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.

"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."

Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.

"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."

Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."

Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."

Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."

The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend. 

"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"

Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.

…

But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost. 

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.

The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.

Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.

But none of that mattered. Not to them.

Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her. 

She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.

Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling. 

Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise? 

The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning. 

She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.

The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.

Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.

Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."

But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."

Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."

Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.

"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."

Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.

"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."

Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.

"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."

Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.

"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.

Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."

Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.

"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."

Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."

The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.

Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.

Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.

Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.

When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.

Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.

Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.” 

The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.

Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

…

Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.

"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.

Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"

Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."

Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"

Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."

Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”

"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."

Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you. 

Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."

"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."

Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."

Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."

Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"

"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides

Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy." 

Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."

With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car. 

…

The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.

Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."

Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"

Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."

Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."

Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."

Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."

Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.

Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.

"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.

Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."

When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.

"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"

"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim. 

They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass. 

"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.

Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.

The teasing never stopped.

"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.

"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."

Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.

The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.

"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.

"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.

Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.

On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.

As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.

At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.

"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.

" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.

"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."

Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."

She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.

"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."

It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"

Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."

The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup. 

"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.

Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"

Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"

Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.

"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."

Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.

"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."

Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"

Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.

Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.

"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"

Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.

"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."

The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.

[secriden]

Watching Joong's Hurt Me Please MV with the context of how episode 6 ended and how this is likely a song about Fadel's thoughts and feelings about Style after Finding Out, I wanted to take a deeper look at the lyrics.

I have transcribed the English lyrics on Youtube side by side with a fan translated version (credit: bl_zonee on Twitter) just because there's different shades of meaning between them that I find really interesting and I'm curious which one is the more accurate translation or if both are valid, but just give different nuance. (Perhaps a mutual who understands Thai would be willing to give some insight? *u*)

Verse 1 makes a lot of sense to me: Fadel must be wondering how Style could be so cruel ("unkind" / "heartless") because every instance of Style being honest and asking for honesty in return, all of Style's genuine desperation to bare his heart to Fadel in episode 5 and 6, now looks like a calculated, cruel deception.

And after being so afraid to reveal his secret to Style for fear that it would make Style walk away from him, there's a painful irony in Fadel now wishing Style had walked away before. Because the betrayal hurts so much more now that Fadel has given in to his heart.

The chorus is where the nuance between the translations gets interesting.

The Youtube version seems almost like Fadel is taunting Style, putting up a front that he can take the pain Style is dishing out and more. It's like he's hiding behind the bravado of being able to handle the hurt, and even more.

The MV also depicts Style smiling sadistically after slapping Fadel, as if he's enjoying the pain he's inflicting. Meanwhile, Fadel looks up almost in adoration, a strange softness in his eyes at odds with how cruelly he's being treated. The knowledge of Style's betrayal has turned Style into a monster in Fadel's mind, one which he cannot help but to still have soft, affectionate feelings.

But the fan translation sounds much more hurt and accusatory. Fadel is expressing his pain and anguish much more plainly and "you did this to me" is a line that demands responsibility.

In both translations, though, the last line ("can't get enough" / "enjoying the pain") gives us a hint that Fadel isn't willing to give Style up even now. Despite the pain, despite feeling as if he's simultaneously burning up and drowning, there's a part of him that still wants this. That still wants Style.

Interestingly, as Fadel sings the last line he begins to visibly struggle against the rope tying him to the chair. The soft look vanishes and in place is a determination and shadow that spells trouble for Style. The shock is wearing off and Fadel is starting to fight back.

Verse 2 is where the agony really hits, for me.

In both versions, Fadel recognises the way Style's love was (maybe still is?) precious to him ("your love feeds my soul" / "your love nourished my heart"). But because Style's love is a lie, it's transformed into a weapon ("poison"). It twists Style's love into a source of "hurt" to Fadel.

Which is why I think both versions have a line where Fadel admits that there's a part of him that wants Style to keep hurting him -- or rather, to keep loving him; because these are the same thing to Fadel now -- ("hurt me, make me feel used" / "the more I was hurt the more I enjoyed it") whilst also remaining accusatory ("the more I loved, the more sorrow/I suffered").

The lines about "nothing left to write about our love" / "our story" also feel very pointed and final. A closing of a chapter; a closing of the possibility of their former, uncomplicated happily ever after. Style has nothing left to write (report) back to his superiors (the police) because Fadel's love is already complete and his deception has reached the inevitable conclusion of Fadel being found out/destroyed.

All this happens while we see Style continuing to threaten Fadel with a golf club and an almost crazed expression of glee juxtaposed with flashes of Fadel and Style in much happier times.

Also the fact that this line comes with this scene *sobs uncontrollably):

The first chorus comes back once and the music reaches a plateau. We are clearly preparing for a drop, or a modulation and we get exactly that (twice!) with the second chorus:

Here, both versions converge: Fadel is angry, he's furious. Style hurt him and he's going to repay all of it and more ("you'll hurt [by much more]" / "you must suffer more than I did"). The lyrics tell us that, while Fadel cannot take back the hurt (take back his love), he can certainly ensure he isn't alone in the suffering (this love will also hurt Style).

It is at this part where my heart sank as I realised that Fadel's "I think I love you" line in episode 6 now takes on a much more sinister tone.

Because I think that discovering Style's betrayal was also what made Fadel realise the truth of his love for Style; the very agony he was in was the sign that Fadel's heart was lost to him. But even as it is true, I also think he still made the choice to ruin Style in the same breath.

A decision was made in this moment, and everything Fadel does afterwards in this scene is deliberate.

There is, however, one piece of hope:

Despite Fadel's expressed fury, what the MV shows us is Fadel breaking out of his bonds, shoving Style back and punching him once and then:

For all his anger, for all his rage, for all his threats of manifold vengeance, what we see is Fadel pressing close and kissing Style; once on the lips, and once on his chest (heart), all while the lyrics makes space for one last plea:

("don't betray me")

For me, its the way the line is shown together with this direct visual parallel between the ignorant Fadel in the past (left) and the Fadel of the present who has seen through Style's deception (right) that I find particularly compelling. Even now, even at the point of Fadel discovering Style's betrayal, there is still hope for forgiveness.

Because Fadel cannot help himself. Because Style made Fadel's bleeding heart whole again; and it beats, it feels, and despite how much it hurts, what Fadel still wants more than anything else in the world -- desperately and simply -- is Style.

[clown-friend-gt]

Fantasy AU Part 1

It's been a while since I've posted any writing, so I wanted to change that! Here's the first part of my fantasy AU of Heroisms. I talked about the basic premise of this story here.

In this part, Trevor and Addie are younger than they are in the main story around 12/13. There's also a lot of focus on Addie getting ready in the beginning, but I thought it was a nice way to highlight some aspects of the setting. Also, it's my story, so I get to decide what details get included, so if you don't care about what people in a psuedo-historical fairy tale setting eat and wear, too bad! (or just skip it, you do you)

As for the main story, I am still working on it! The next chapter is actually almost done, but I'm thinking of waiting until I get the next few chapters done until I start posting that one again, since I have some time off from work right now. It's coming fairly soon, I promise. Until now, enjoy this AU!

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Once Upon a Tower

5.7k words

Princess Adelaide woke up for the first time in her new room. She was surrounded by cloud-soft bedding. Gentle sunlight shone through the windows to warm her face. Just beyond, she could the chorus of birdsongs. All in all, it was a rather lovely place to be held captive.

She sat up and stretched her arms above her head to try and chase off some of her sleepiness. Despite herself, she began to yawn. She quickly placed a hand in front of her face to stifle it. Even if no one was around to see her, she had to remember to keep up appearances. If she was ever to earn her way out of here, she’d have to carefully maintain her regal sense of poise.

She stepped onto the plain wooden floors with her bare feet. Despite the warm sunlight, the floor was still a bit chilly. A shiver ran up her spine. She waited for it to pass before making her way over to the room’s only window.

       

The bars on the window were the only indication of her imprisonment. It wasn’t as if they were necessary; she’d be sent plummeting to her death if she tried to escape through this window. They only served as a cruel reminder. No matter how nice the room behind them was, the iron bars proved that it was nothing but a gilded cage for her.

       

Adelaide felt her eyes begin to sting and tore her eyes from the window. She couldn’t get upset, now. Her curse always started acting up when she let herself get emotional. Even now she could feel that strange feeling of weightlessness bubbling up within her. A gentle but powerful urge tugging her away from the ground.

       

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She hadn’t noticed herself beginning to float, but now she felt her feet gently return to the ground. She felt oddly heavy after, just like she always did once the magic left her body.

       

Today will be a normal day, just like any other, she told herself, turning away and leaving the window behind.

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Out of all of the troubles she’d imagined would come from being locked away in a tower, Princess Adelaide never thought that making breakfast would be one of them. It had never occurred to her just how reliant she was on the palace staff for little things like this. But now that she was on her own, she was utterly lost.

       

Finding food was no trouble, of course. Her family had made sure that she would always be provided for while she stayed here, and the cupboards full of food clearly demonstrated that. The trouble was, she had no idea how to prepare any of it.

       

She had decided on a simple breakfast of bread and jam. She figured even she could manage something as straightforward as that. She found a plate, a napkin, and her utensils easily enough. Then she had to slice the bread.

Logically, she knew the nice, neat slices of bread she’d had served to her before had to come from somewhere, but she found herself slightly unsure of how to proceed when presented with a loaf of bread. Was she just supposed to tear it apart with her hands? Surely that couldn’t be right.

She searched her little kitchenette for something to cut it with. In one of the drawers, she found a few knives. She selected the sharpest one, assuming it would be best for this job. She carefully held the handle in both hands and began to cut the bread.

       

It took her a couple of tries to find purchase. Instead of biting into it like she’d imagined it would, the knife started smooshing the bread, flattening the top. She frowned to herself as she pushed harder, and the knife finally cut into the bread.

       

Once she’d managed to slice the bread all the way through, she held it up to admire her handiwork. The slice was misshapen, and much thicker than she preferred. It would have to do. She set it aside on her plate and got to work on the next one.

       

Her second try didn’t fare much better than her first. The only difference was this time, the slice of bread was much too thin. She set the knife down, looking between her pitiful slices and the loaf of bread. Maybe she should throw these out and just try again?

       

She shook her head. No, this was the start of a new life for her. She couldn’t live her life as frivolously as she had in the palace. She had to fend for herself, and that meant that she couldn’t waste precious resources.

       

Now it was time to select a jam. She had plenty to choose from. Apple jam, cherry jam, even grape jam. She eventually decided on a jar of blueberry jam. It was her favorite, after all.

       

She held the clay jar in one hand and began to pry out the large cork with the other. But the cork was wedged tighter in the jar than she had expected. She dug her fingers into the cork and pulled with all her might. With no small amount of effort on her part, the cork came loose from the jar with a pop!

       

As luck would have it, though, the jar slipped from her hands the moment the cork was freed. It fell onto the floor and shattered, spreading its contents all over. Addie glared at the globs of jam.

She ignored the way her mouth watered as she stared at the mess. She may have been living a rougher life now, but she would not be eating off of the floor. She was still royalty, after all. But it was disappointing. Blueberry jam only came around in the late summer, and that was months away.

       

Addie sat down to eat her breakfast of bread and no jam. She chewed it lazily; it was good quality bread, but it made for far too dull of a meal on its own. Occasionally, her eyes would drift over to the jam covered floor, her temptation only increasing as time went on. But her sense of discipline prevailed.

       

After breakfast, she went back to her mess on the floor. She carefully picked the ceramic pieces from the jam. Then she stared longingly at her fingers coated in that sweet berry-flavored substance.

       

Just one lick wouldn’t hurt.

       

After her meal of boring bread, the sensation of blueberries practically danced upon her tongue. So tasty. So tragic.

       

With a heavy sigh, she reluctantly cleaned the rest of the jam off of the floor with the cloth napkin she’d set aside for herself. She cleaned as much off as she could, but there was still a bit of sticky residue left on the floor. And the napkin was utterly soiled. She’d have to throw it away.

       

Then she went to the bedside table where there was a mirror, a pitcher of water, and a bowl. She poured the water into the bowl so she could perform her morning ablutions. She wet her face with water, then patted it dry with a towel. She also swished a little water around in her mouth, then spat it back into the bowl. Then she set it aside to empty out later.

       

She examined herself in the mirror. She’d had her hair braided for her before she left, so her natural hair would be protected for at least a month. She frowned at the few pimples that dotted her dark brown skin. They’d started showing up a few months ago, around the same time as her curse. Their unsightly appearance was an ugly reminder of the reason she was trapped.

       

She stared deeply into her amber-colored eyes. Was it just her imagination, or did they hold a little less luster than they used to, before she was locked away? She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to chase those thoughts from her mind.

       

Now, it was time for her to dress herself. Yet another thing she’d never done on her own. But she’d seen her maids do it hundreds of times. Maybe she could pull it off by herself after all.

       

She exchanged her nightgown for a white chemise. That was easy enough. Then she pulled on her stockings, bending over in an undignified manner to do so, and tied her garters on to secure them. After that, she pulled on a pair of drawers under her shift.

       

Then she went back to her wardrobe to select a pair of shoes. She chose a simple blue pair of slippers.

       

Cautiously, she selected a pair of jumps from her wardrobe. These were less structured than the stays she wore for formal occasions. They also laced from the front, although Adelaide rarely did so herself. She pulled them on over her head and pulled the laces tight.

       

She paused before tying them. No one was around, right? She could maybe afford to leave them a little loose. She didn’t have the smallest figure by any means, and her maids tended to lace her undergarments tight to make up for that fact. Now that she had to dress herself, she got to make that choice for herself, and she chose to loosen her jumps a bit before tying them in place.

       

She chose two petticoats to wear beneath her skirt. It was sunny out, but still a little chilly in the stone tower. Two petticoats would hopefully provide her with a bit of warmth. She pulled them on, and, after fiddling around in front of the mirror for a few minutes, managed to secure the ties in place.

       

Finally, she was ready to choose her outerwear. She wanted to keep things fairly simple, but her clothing was rather limited in that regard. She eventually found an unembellished skirt of blue silk, as well as a white waistcoat with bluebirds embroidered onto it. Perfect for spring.

       

To finish it all off, she tied a pale-yellow sash around her waist. She examined herself in the mirror, and decided she didn’t look too unkempt. Not bad for her first time dressing herself.

       

Now that she’d finally finished feeding and clothing herself, all Adelaide had to do was to find something to occupy her time. That sounded easy enough, but it was the part she had been worried about. All that time couped up with no one around for miles sounded absolutely dreadful. Like the stuff of nightmares.

       

She approached the bookshelf that rested against one of the walls. She examined the titles that lay within, weighing her options. The books rattled in place, distracting her from her search. She examined the bookcase, but it seemed stable. Then it happened again, and with a start she realized that it wasn’t just the books; the floor beneath her was shaking. Every few seconds, a tremor vibrated the whole tower.

Was it an earthquake? She’d read about them in books but had never experienced one herself. There hadn’t been one in the kingdom in decades. Her family had been promised this tower was the safest place in the world for her to stay. Had they been lied to?

The light from the window dimmed momentarily. Something blocked out the sun. She rushed over to see what was the matter. Her blood ran cold as she spotted the gigantic figure in the distance. Then the realization hit her like a slap to the face. It wasn’t an earthquake she was feeling.

       

It was that thing’s footsteps.

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It was spring in Trevor’s forest again. He could feel the warmth of the earth in his roots and the light of the sun on his leaves. Most of all, he could feel the urging of his kin through his connection to them. It was time for him to wake up.

       

His trunk shifted back into the shape of a human body. His branches twisted back into his arms. His roots receded into what became the soles of his feet. Finally, the knots on his bark reformed into a human face. His face.

       

Regaining human form was always a bit of an adjustment. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to get used to having his sight back. For a few moments, the early morning sunlight was blinding, and all of the vibrant colors of the forest were dizzying. He took a few uneasy steps forward, trying to regain his sense of balance.

       

The clothes he’d been wearing before he went into hibernation had reappeared on his body. He looked down at the plain white shirt he wore, rubbing the fabric between his fingers and admiring the craftsmanship. He wore long brown pants on his legs and simple shoes on his feet.

       

The clothes were a gift from his magus friend, Wren. They were enchanted to appear whenever he took human form and disappear whenever he turned back into a tree. He’d worn them since he was a child, and they grew along with him. He didn’t quite understand how it worked; Wren’s magic was so different from his own.

       

Wren had always been a good friend to him. He’d known them for almost as long as he could remember. In addition to gifting him the clothes he wore, they’d also taught him to speak what they called “the common tongue.” Of course, he’d never had the chance to speak it with anyone but Wren.

       

He made a mental note to visit them the first chance he got. But first, he had a number of duties to attend to. He was the guardian of this forest, and ever since he was a young sapling his kin had taught him the importance of his role.

       

He’d start by patrolling the forest. That was the easiest way to check on all of the flora and fauna that called his forest home. He’d visit everyone and ask them how they’d fared through the winter. The elders always emphasized that “attachment is a risk to the balance you keep.” But he’d come to care for many of the living things in his forest, and it was hard not to think of some of them as his friends, too.

       

He set out on his journey, keeping his steps light. Most of the forest was used to his presence by now, but he still did his best to be careful. He was as tall as the tallest trees in this forest now, and if he wasn’t mindful of how he carried himself it could spell disaster for his environment.

       

He hummed a song as he walked along, weaving a spell as he went. It was one of the first things the elders had taught him. While he carried this tune, he could walk on the ground without shaking it and pass through the trees without knocking them aside.

       

Birds flitted through the trees as he passed. He kept a silent tally of each as they flew alongside him, making sure that most had returned from their migrations. Occasionally he’d stop to commune with them. They didn’t share words like he and Wren would, but they communicated in songs instead. Through the music they exchanged, he caught glimpses of images, sensations, and feelings.

       

He held out a finger and let a few robins land upon it. He smiled as they regaled him with tales of their migration. Through their song, he saw places he’d never been, the warm islands far to the south. He’d never get the chance to leave the forest, so he enjoyed hearing about their travels instead.

       

He gave them a small wave as they flew away. It was a gesture Wren had taught him. It had little meaning to the birds, but he still liked to use it.

       

He continued making his rounds. He visited the lake and made sure it had thawed completely. He checked on some of the newer saplings to make sure they were getting enough light. Bit by bit, he made sure everything in the forest was as it should be.

       

About halfway through his trek, he felt something tugging at his pantleg. He looked down to see what it was, only to see a red squirrel scampering its way up his leg. He bent over and offered it his hand to climb into. It leaped on, and he stood up again, raising his hand in front of his face.

       

Through distressed chitters, it informed him of the large number of humans that had spent most of the winter traipsing through the woods. It bemoaned the fact that it’d been unable to dig up the acorns it distinctly remembered it had buried near the old ruins due to their presence.

Trevor nodded along, choosing not to remind the squirrel that its memory was far from perfect. In fact, many of the trees in this forest likely sprouted from seeds buried and subsequently forgotten by squirrels just like this one.

       

After assuring the squirrel he’d look into the issue, he placed it onto a nearby branch, letting it scurry away.

       

Humans. Trevor never knew what to think of them. His kin had mixed opinions on them; some were perfectly content to live alongside them, while others swore that they were nothing but a danger to the delicate ecosystems they protected. He had never even met a human, much less had time to form much of an opinion about them.

       

Humans tended to avoid him, for the most part. That is, when they even noticed he was there. It was a shame, really. As far as he knew, he was the only one amongst his kin who spoke their language. Perhaps if he could talk to them, they could figure out a way to coexist peacefully.

       

As he got close to the clearing that housed the ruins the squirrel had mentioned in its story, he dropped the spell that let him travel lightly. It always gave him a little pang of sadness in his heart when he came by here. The forest had yet to recover from when this spot was clearcut so many years ago. Save for the grass that grew from the ground and the small trees that dotted the makeshift plain, this area was completely uninhabited.

       

It wasn’t a huge clearing, at least. It was roughly a circle, a little longer across than he was tall. In the middle stood a strange pile of stones, stacked nearly as tall as he was. Wren called it a “tower.” Many of the stones towards the bottom were covered in moss, and a creeping ivy clung to one side. It was built and then abandoned by humans a long time before he’d sprouted.

       

He’d seen it plenty of times before, but he’d never had a reason to approach it until now. He had to wonder what its purpose might’ve been. Was it some kind of dwelling? It didn’t look much like the homes he’d seen humans inhabiting before, in the village that sat closest to his forest. And why had the humans visited it while he was asleep?

       

It did have one of those pointy things on top like a human’s den had. A “roof,” Wren had called it. They’d told him they were made out of straw, or something they called “shingles.” It didn’t look like straw to him, more like small black squares layered on top of each other.

       

The glint of an object on top of the roof caught his eye. It was a metal ornament the likes of which he’d never seen, hammered into the shape of a rooster. It creaked forlornly as the wind pushed it this way and that. He watched on in delight as it reluctantly turned in the direction of the shifting breeze. It was like the metal bird was dancing, beckoning him closer.

       

Unable to restrain his curiosity, he reached out and touched it, stopping it in place. Then he carefully set it to spinning again with the tip of his finger. He smiled as he watched it spin. While it spun, he pinched the thin bar that it sat upon, trying to understand how the thing worked. But he misjudged how delicate it would be, and it snapped off the tip of the roof. He examined it for a moment, before slipping it into his shirt pocket. Hopefully no one would miss it.

       

Now that he was closer to the tower, he saw that the top had openings on one of its sides. He leaned down and put his eye to the opening on the front. He looked around as best as he could, but he couldn’t see much. The opening was blocked by a pair of large metal bars.

       

He was incredibly curious about what was inside. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, and, when it seemed he was alone, he wedged the tip of one of his fingers through the bars. The metal burned him slightly; the bars must’ve been made of iron. He flinched, but didn’t pull away. If he could quickly pry them off, he’d be able to see inside without burning himself too badly.

       

The elders often warned him to be mindful of his strength. But again he misjudged the durability of the construction, and he ended up prying away part of the wall along with the bars. He winced as he dropped it, feeling sorry for damaging it.

       

At least he could get a better look inside now. He leaned in and looked around eagerly. The room inside was filled with many objects seemingly made by humans. He considered taking some to show to Wren, who could explain their purposes to him.

       

Then he heard something inhale sharply, and his eye darted over to look at the source of the noise. From underneath a larger object draped in fabric, a small set of widened eyes stared at him. His own eyes widened in response as he bit back a yelp. It seemed he had been wrong.

       

The tower was far from abandoned.

************************************************************************

As soon as she spotted the giant, Adelaide quickly ducked below the windowsill. It hadn’t seemed to notice her yet, and she planned to keep it that way. Her eyes scanned the room for somewhere to hide.

       

The entrance to the tower was locked, so running wasn’t an option. But even if she could, where would she go? She didn’t know this forest, and even if she did, there was no way she was outrunning that thing.

       

Another tremor shook the tower and she silently cursed whoever had thought to keep her here. A giant. Really? You think I’d be safe here with a giant nearby?!

       

On a childish whim, she darted beneath her bed. Internally, she heard the voice of her etiquette teacher scolding her.

       

“Princesses do not hide under beds,” the voice said, high and slightly nasally.

       

Who cares about propriety? I’m trying to hide from a monster here! She shot back at the voice, in her head of course.

       

The room shook again, and her nerves were electrified. She felt the telltale feeling of her curse firing up inside of her.

       

Not now, please, not now, she pleaded silently.

       

Instead of floating off of the ground herself, she spotted objects around the room beginning to float instead. Bottles of perfume lifted themselves off her vanity, and the books began flying off of the shelves, hanging in midair.

       

This happened sometimes when she was especially distraught. Instead of her curse affecting her, it’d affect her surroundings, and small objects would hover around her of their own accord. She glared silently upwards, powerless to do anything to stop it.

       

She heard the giant shifting around outside. Looking up at the window, she saw a large chestnut-colored eye gazing inside. She froze, her heart hammering in her throat. She prayed silently that it wouldn’t see her.

       

It seemed like someone was listening, because the eye went away from the window. She let out a sigh of relief, only a moment too soon. The giant forced its finger through the bars of the window and hooked the tip around them. Then it pulled, wrenching the window, and part of the wall, away from the room entirely.

       

It looked into the room again, and this time, she saw more of its face. Its features were much like a normal human’s, although much, much larger. Instead of skin, its face was covered in a treelike bark. It had a knot under its left eye, like a mole. She’d heard tales of the giant guardians of nature who watched over the uncivilized world, but she’d never dreamed of coming face to face with one.

       

What struck her was how young the thing looked. If it wasn’t for its size and the strangeness of its appearance, she might’ve thought it was a boy her age. Her breath caught in her throat.

       

The thing’s eye shot over to where she was hiding, dialing in on her. Its eye widened in shock, and it retreated away from the wall. There was a large *CRASH* as it seemingly fell backwards, causing the tower to shake like never before. A single stone brick fell from the hole the giant had created, smashing on the floor below. Just when she thought the humongous creature’s fall would cause the tower to collapse, the shaking stopped.

       

She heard the creature grunted at her in its bizarre guttural language. The sound was somewhere between a cow lowing and a person speaking. Then it startled her by speaking in words she could understand.

       

“—Sorry! I’m so sorry!”Its voice echoed around her. Despite its volume, its voice sounded young, like that of a teenage boy.

       

“I didn’t know someone lived here,” he continued. “I’m sorry about you’re—ah, wall.”

       

She was speechless as he stood up and brushed himself off. Unlike the stories she’d been told, this giant not only spoke her language, but wore clothes much like that of a commoner. Where he’d gotten enough material to make clothes that fit him, she had no idea.

       

“I am called Trevor,” he said, running a hand through his leaflike hair. His voice had a strange accent to it that she couldn’t place.

       

He began to speak very quickly, like he was in a rush to get all of his words out. “I’m sorry if I scared you, like I said, I didn’t know anyone was living here. There aren’t really any humans who live in these woods. You’re the first one I’ve met! What is your name?”

He looked at her expectantly.

       

What was she supposed to do? Everything in her screamed for her to run, but she stayed stuck in place. Sure, he acted friendly enough, but that could be some kind of trick to get her to drop her guard, to lure her out of hiding.

       

He tilted his head at her as she stayed silent. “Do you speak?”

       

She opened and closed her mouth, floundering. He seemed to notice she was in some kind of distress.

       

“Are you stuck? Here, let me help.” He began reaching towards her with a single, enormous hand, with fingers that were nearly as long as she was tall. That knocked her out of her stupor.

       

“No, no, no! I’m fine,” she stammered, squeezing herself out from under the bed. His hand stopped in place, then retreated as she stood up.

       

He smiled at her again. His bright white teeth stood in stark contrast to the bark-like skin that covered his face.

       

“So you can talk! That’s good, I was worried you couldn’t. That’d be a disappointment; the first human I ever get to speak to can’t talk themselves. It’s a good thing you can!”

       

“Y-yes,” she said, swallowing dryly.

       

“You never told me your name,” he reminded her.

       

“O-oh,” she stuttered, before clearing her throat and standing up straight. If there was one thing she’d been trained to do so well she could do it in her sleep, it was introducing herself.

       

“I am Adelaide Luanda Johannesburg, First Princess of Johannesburg, Heiress to the Pearlescent Throne and Descendent of Harmonia’s Grace.” She paused briefly, trying to gauge how deeply to curtsy. She eventually decided to curtsy deeply as a sign of respect, hoping that would keep him happy.

       

“Wow, that’s, uh,” he hesitated. “That’s a lot of names.”

       

She cursed herself silently. She shouldn’t have used all of her titles, that would only confuse him.

       

“You may call me Adelaide,” she granted him.

Calling her by her first name was a special privilege, not to be given out lightly. Only her mother and her brothers called her by that name. But as far as she was concerned, this was a matter of survival, and keeping the giant happy and peaceful was more important than her honor.

       

“Ade—Ada-luh—luh—” He still seemed to be struggling with her name.

       

“Just Addie, then,” she said quickly. It was what her youngest brother used to call her, before he’d learned to speak properly.

       

“Addie. Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she replied automatically.

Trevor’s eyes drifted around the room she stood in. She followed his gaze, spotting all of the knick-knacks floating around her room. Suddenly, she felt strangely embarrassed, like he’d caught her with something she shouldn’t have.

If he noticed something was amiss, he didn’t mention it.

“What are you doing in my woods?” he asked instead.

Adelaide’s heart rose into her throat. His tone was light, but his question was disarming. Did he think she was invading his territory? She’d heard stories about giants who would grow violent if they felt their domain was under some kind of threat.

She decided to tell him part of her story. If she was lucky, he might pity her instead of becoming aggressive.

“I’m trapped here. This is my prison,” she said, truthfully.

“Your prison?” he asked. “So you don’t live here?”

“Not by choice,” she answered.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

“The door is locked.”

“Why does that matter? I can help you get out, if you’d like.”

Without waiting for an answer, he began to reach for her again. An undignified yelp escaped her lips and her hands flew out in front of her, an instinctive reaction to the sight of that huge hand reaching out to grab her.

“No!”

He froze, a look of hurt briefly passing over his face.

“…I see.”

He retracted his hand sheepishly.

Adelaide felt sorrow for a moment, before that feeling was replaced by confusion. Why did she care if her actions offended him? It wasn’t like he was human.

“Besides—” she spat out, as if to cover for her blunder. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?” he asked, with seeming reluctance.

She paused. Adelaide didn’t really want to divulge her troubles to a stranger, and to a giant no less. But what would she say instead?

“Princesses do not tell lies,” came the sing-songy voice of her etiquette teacher in her head again.

Adelaide sighed deeply. “I—I’m cursed.”

Trevor gave her a puzzled look. “Cursed?”

She nodded, then gestured to the many objects that now glided through the air in all directions.

"Can’t you see? All this chaos is because of my curse.”

Trevor followed the path of one of the flying books with his eyes, almost as if he was noticing it for the first time.

“I was wondering about that,” he admitted.

“Well, now you know,” she said, barely hiding the bitterness in her voice.

Turning away, Adelaide began trying to fish things out of the air so she could put them back in their proper place.

“And until I learn how to get it under control, I’m stuck here,” she finished, placing a few books back on their shelves. She half expected them to fly back out, but now that her mood was falling, so too did the chintz around her room start to sink to the ground.

The floor began to tremble lightly again. Apparently, while she’d had her back turned, Trevor had started resting his hand on the side of the tower, near the hole he’d made. He tapped his pointer finger on the floor of her room absently.

“So…you do live here?” he asked.

“For the time being,” she answered carefully, thrown by the odd sensation of the vibrations of his tapping travelling through the floor and up her legs.

His lips curled into a smile. “Then I guess I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

Startled, she exclaimed, “What?”

His smile widened to a grin. “Watching over every living thing in this forest is my responsibility. Now that you’re staying here, that includes you too.”

Adelaide was stunned. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted him “watching over” her. What exactly would that entail? But it wasn’t as if she had much choice in the matter.

       

At least she wasn’t frozen in terror like she had been before. Not to say that she was entirely unafraid of him now. He was so many times larger than her, and it would’ve been easy for him to do with her as he liked. But if he had any intention of harming her, he’d had plenty of opportunities to do so. Of course, that didn’t guarantee that his intentions with her were pure.

And now that her initial terror was fading, a kind of curiosity was left in its place. Trevor was already so unlike any giant she’d ever heard of. His manner was certainly…intriguing. She had so many questions she could ask him. That is, if she could ever get over her wariness to speak to him.

For now, though, she had to demonstrate her gratitude. She wasn’t yet sure if she was thankful for his offer, but she still had to keep up appearances.

Watching him carefully, she slowly approached the opening in the wall. Trevor hurriedly removed his hand, standing up straight as she came near. She lowered herself into a curtsy again.

“I’m most grateful for your hospitality,” she said, holding the curtsy for a moment before standing up again and forcing herself to look him in the eye, if only for a moment.

Trevor scratched the back of his head. The sound of his leafy hair moving around almost reminded her of the sound of the wind travelling through the trees.

"Wow. You sure use a lot of fancy words,” he said, sounding a little lost.

“It just means ‘thank you for letting me stay here,’” she clarified

“Oh. Of course,” he said, smiling again. “It’s my duty, after all.”

[angelesca]

“the stars will bend so that we can find each other again.”

w.c. 1k~ / content: sunday x gnreader, soft but desperate sunday strikes again, unrequited(?), angst on xmas what a blessing, open ending, you leave sunday behind to take a train starward a/n: my initial idea was completely scrapped bc i wanted to write more sad sunday, soooo this was a last minute plan i quickly conjured for xmas ( . •́ _ʖ •̀ .) it is unedited short but enjoy nonetheless!

inspired by closet(acoustic ver.) - fleshwater ♪

⋆⁺₊❅。

welcome aboard, dear passengers. please take your designated seats.

spirited penacony, bold in glamour and hues, is dulled by the colourless winter and painted with nightly blues. the snow becomes like paper under your feet, where your imprint is etched to reveal a long trail, telling stories about your journey. you have come a long way.

however, there is another story to be told. beside you was another pair of shoes, their footprints lagging ever so slightly behind your strides. their steps were uneven, crooked—shy off two beats from keeping up with your pace, but bordering on the fear of you acknowledging even a sliver of their haunting shadow.

it will pain you to turn around. so don’t. the train greets you, its opened door ready to embrace your tired body. the freedom you sought is within reach and you place one foot inside.

“won’t you please look at me?”

your breath hitches. the grip on your luggage tightens. 

“i beg of you.”

you are stuck in limbo. 

“...i’m leaving, sunday.”

the train is about to depart. please remain seated as the express prepares for your journey.

you turn to face him and mask everything with a smile, but what sort of person would he be if he cannot notice your performance? it is not a satisfactory answer. sunday would not budge. he would not care if the snow buried him. 

if he doesn’t, you will have to make the move, push him far enough over the edge for you knew how stubborn he could be. perhaps the truth could break it once and for all.

you swallow the dryness in your throat. “... i'm tired of being stuck here." people are not meant to be birds trapped in a cage. keep them for too long, and they will start to wonder about the purpose of their wings.

sunday’s eyes waver, a disparity widens from his usual orchestrated composure. “i thought i kept you safe,” he speaks, “i would give you the world if you desired so.”

“you didn’t. you hid it away from me.” the years have passed and the stars rotate along. you were never meant to be here forever. “there is a vast greatness beyond the dreamscape, beyond penacony, and beyond planets.”

“but you can’t—”

“you’re doing it again,” you interrupt, “i am not yours to order. please, let go of me...”

he pauses at your hard tone. it carves the words into him as he repeats it over into his head, so easily scrapes him into mere bits despite his practiced acting. 

“then, can you tell me where you are going?”

before you went out, you forged your resolve: you would leave tonight. “... i’m sorry,” you mutter, "i don’t want you searching for me. i will return when the time is right, not when you command it so.”

“... i see.”

the nostalgic past flashes on sunday’s face, and you remember the younger him as you notice his downcast eyes. his wings are barely fluttering and he is playing with his fingers. the drift of the sea of snow does nothing to obscure it, and it works in his favour.

don’t fall for it… except that this is not part of sunday’s act. these are his true feelings. he cherishes you greatly, but you are too familiar with how it drowns you. he needs to know you are near him, have you safe, be able to watch you. control. it reflects upon the way he oversees penacony. 

sunday's fingers hesitate, hovering in the air. "can you tell me for how long...? how about your companions? will you be far away? will you stay in touch? have you told everyone? how... how long will i have to..."

"..."

any separation will feel like eternity, never to close. it is a sunday who is afraid of losing anyone again, so he clinches onto them as tight as he can to the point of suffocation. his hands are behind his back, tightening into a prayer, mourning the hollowness that your presence is supposed to occupy.

emotion wells in your heart. it is only when you need to forget him, that he suddenly becomes so hard to ignore. "sunday... listen to me."

you hope that time will offer him space to contemplate. and although it is a painful reminder, you hope that the hole you leave behind will convey your message. you hold out your pinky towards sunday. “let’s believe that the universe will hold us together,” you gaze at the night sky. "you alone are not meant to hold the weight of the world."

sunday's wings twitch. his halo hums.

you nudge your pinky at him. “one day, the stars will bend so that we can find each other again.”

bells chime in the distance, chords striking, and the strings resound a melody of calming tuned to open ears. it reminds him that the passage of time is relentless, no matter how many more seconds he borrowed—it only delays the inevitable. 

sunday gazes off to the side, observing something transcending penacony’s familiar ground. a concept vast and horrifying, but perhaps beautiful and endless.

sunday then looks at you. "you promise?"

"promise." and memories of a younger you and sunday flicker, hand in hand, smiling against the odds, against a fate that could have made you strangers.

sunday’s smile is afflicted, but hopeful. the stories didn’t end here. there will be many winters to come, and the snow will always be ready to write your tales.

he links his pinky with yours. in the vast and horrifying, a sealed promise sets alight two more stars who will eventually separate with light years between them. only when these stars aligns, they will bend to meet again.

sunday untangles his finger, slithering his hand over your palm to study you one more time. your hand that used to be smaller, now fits comfortably in his hand. 

his eyes glimmer colourfully. he watches how much brighter you shine—a star who is returning to the cosmos, a bird who belongs to the sky—understanding that you were never his.

once again, the train is about to depart—

sunday gradually lets go of your hand, setting you free. his warmth leaves you. you step inside the train with a destination to elsewhere, waving him goodbye. “thank you.”

—and may this journey lead you starward.

⋆⁺₊❅。

a/n: have a merry christmas, get lots of presents(no boring socks), christmas tree doesnt fall and crush you, no burning down houses bc the turkey was forgotten, always winning the christmas crackers, the christmas pudding is actually a delectable 4-tiered heart-shaped chocolate cake, no awkward family games everyone just plays mario kart, gingerbread biscuits come to life, santa likes your cookies, rudolph has a red nose, michael buble serending you, the christmas elves are finally free, sunday makes out with you under the mistletoe ho ho ho🧑‍🎄 thank you for reading!!

[ghostnotoast]

I'm having withdrawal symptoms from waiting for the new episode to come out, and this has been buzzing around my head since this part came out (also I wanna talk about my wife Lily)

Relistening to this part twice made me cry I'm not even gonna lie but weirdly enough it made me think of the end of season 1 where John gets a taste of being the king for a split second but then chooses to go back to Arthur. After he returns, he says:

"But it was in that time in the hospital, that month alone. Trapped in this body without you, when something changed"

"I found meaning. I found that the challenges of life within the boundaries of death were not only acceptable, but could be meaningful. That without a purpose I could forge my own. Is that humanity?"

Don't get me wrong, I don't think it was Lily who was fully responsible for giving John humanity - if anything, that's the mistake Arthur makes in season 3 when comparing John to Yellow (which John calls him out for). It was Arthur who laid out the pieces, and Lily was basically the one to make it click.

Buttt I think reducing John's reason for humanity to only one thing is almost a disservice- because developing a sense of self is so much more complex than that.

It was Arthur's love, it was the stories and thoughts he would share with John, it was being in awe of seeing trees and nature again after so long of living in the dark, it was hearing music, it was listening to the radio, it was the joy he felt after they complished something and he was finally able to feel something other than fear, it was seeing the wraith help them, it was holding a cute baby and picturing her future as a pianist, it was seeing her mother and recognising that she had just lost something priceless, it was having to hold onto hope that anyone is capable of redemption, it was defending and having empathy for the widow despite what Arthur had said.

The last moment is paralleled in season 3 with their conversation about Yellow. Listening to all these makes me realise just how much Yellow missed out on.

Arthur no doubt played a massive role in helping John find humanity and meaning, but honesty? I don't know if purely being with Arthur is what made John who he is. John himself has a conscious and had to make decisions on his own and, on multiple occasions, fights Arthur about ideology with basically little to no outside influence (e.g, their infamous first divorce).

Despite all that though, I still do think Arthur was one of the biggest reasons, I mean just look at Yellow 😭 I'll write an entire essay about him one day

But this entire yap session was basically me trying to imagine what exactly was so special about that month at the hospital because let's be real if I were John I would go crazy BUT sometimes i just imagine John being there, in a hospital without Arthur, being able to do nothing but think

He thinks about the bright clear blue sky he saw, a bird that landed on the windowsill when they were at the library, he thinks about how alive this world is compared to where he came from, he thinks about the radio that's playing, he thinks about the piano, and then he thinks about Arthur

And I imagine he looks at Lily, at her tending to them, at her chatting to them, at her turning on the radio for them so they're not bored and even though people would call all these extra bits of care pointless - she does it anyway, and she does it for them, and John is there to witness this, and that's the moment where it clicks.

I imagine it sort of being like being moved back to see a finished puzzle and finally understanding what you've been making this entire time after spending so long up close looking at individual pieces

And I think that's what the witch didn't understand about John's story. Lily's care was the climax of John becoming John, and even though John acknowledges that for her it was probably another Tuesday - it still doesn't dampen the fondness and love he has for her, he just loves for the sake of it

[rahuratna]

This story just gets better and better and better with each chapter. I honestly feel like I'm reading episodes of a law firm investigative serial, which, I will repeat to my dying day, is the kind of fic I've been longing for.

The opening scene gives me so many flashbacks to those days on campus, the late evenings, the strong coffees that keep you going, commiserating with friends and laughing because if you don't laugh, you'll cry, LOL. Again, I love the realism you bring to this series that addresses so many issues facing college undergrads and grads. Searching for internships is both competitive and insanely difficult, and the requirements of companies are always so ridiculously contradictory.

I too, would fight for a tuna sandwich. Just saying. And when Nobara tells her about the firm's new criminal law section, I felt my stomach squeeze with anticipation. It's happening!

Next, I know I've already screamed about the interview, but dude. Even though Nanami is one of the supporting characters here, I LOVE the way you've written him. I love his character even more reading this, and I mean that very sincerely. You've captured his cutting, but kind professionalism so perfectly, that no-nonsense, hard-nosed, eagle-eyed lawyer, who suffers from the same awkwardness that the social part of corporate life forces him into. Like, yes, Nanami, I feel you. I, too, hate team-building and ice-breakers and feel like a clown painting my face slowly in those scenarios.

The interview itself was comedy gold. And Gojo showing up to randomly knock at the glass and say, yes, yes sir, those are the stupid questions I came up with and they are A-okay and I want to watch you ask them so I can kick my feet and giggle at you being silly and ... Nanami just closing the blinds 🤣🤣

Also, the case scenarios are an odd thing to be losing my mind about, but I AM. I AM HERE FOR THE LAW. (Raises hand) I knew about gunpowder residue, Fuku sensei. And the added touch about letting the client know what you're testing for to rattle them into confessing ... now this is what I came here for (apart from Hiromi romance).

The scene between her and Hiromi is so subtle, but adds that element of their growing dynamic and his own (slightly unacknowledged) attraction to her (which our eagle-eyed Nanami DOES pick up on). The sharing of the cigarette and the way it becomes the pivotal image of this story (thanks to @radish-breath 's stunning art, is such an amazing translation of one art form to another and I loved it so much, especially the detail of the sunflower shawl.

When she called his shawl ugly, I thought, yes. Yes, that is a faux pas I would make, and I'm not shy about admitting it. I'm also very excited that Geto is going to make an appearance. This is the kind of setting in which his elegant manipulation will absolutely shine, and I know you will write him with flair.

Finally, what a great way to end the chapter. Nanami's perspective is so well-written and wonderful to follow. I feel like his perspective is going to be an essential one, one that brings balance and an objective lens to what's going to occur in the future. I'm anticipating the law firm shenanigans even more now and can't wait to read them!

CHAPTER THREE PT. II: DIMINISHED CAPACITY ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni! | oopsie, is that... a special banner? gee I wonder if there's something to see at the end of this chapter, huh?

❀ diminished capacity.

Diminished capacity refers to an individual’s impossibility to form the intent necessary for committing any criminal act, because their capacity to fully comprehend the nature of their actions is impaired. It doesn’t, however, completely exclude their responsibility, and they may be held accountable to a lesser offense.

wc: 5.5K ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. slow-burn romcom. professor and college student pre-relationship. internship interviews suck. nobara likes to steal food from people. mentions of hypothetical violent crime. nanami gets pestered by gojo even here. higuruma likes sunflowers. nanami has a sixth sense.

❀ notes etc.

Apologies to any colleagues reading the word “evidence” in place of “proof” and feeling like tackling me with a broom, lol. Also, a huge thanks to everyone who came around for part one, I hope you guys get to enjoy reading this just as much I enjoyed writing it.

Argh… Monday.

Internship hunt was hell. There was no other way to spin that wheel. You knew it’d be incredibly hard, but not this hard.

Mondays were cursed days, but to know that not only cursed, they’d also start with terrible interviews — plural — was not in your bingo card for this week. Between  oh, you just started criminal law I this semester? and we will let you know laid the crumbling sounds of your utmost despair of knowing full well you were in for a ride for those next few days.

Well, if only daydreaming about him could save you.

It didn’t, though.

Unfortunately.

You arrived at the campus cafeteria where you were supposed to meet Nobara. Even on a fairly uncomfortable chair, she slouched nearly enough to slide down onto the ground like a rag doll, and it didn’t take you much to realize these past few days were throwing her through the wringer too.

“You look like death,” you joked as you pulled your chair to sit with her, putting your tuna sandwich and can of soda over the table.

“And you look like… like… hmph,” she scoffed while rolling her eyes and propping herself back up again.

“No snarky comeback? Are you that tired?” 

“Leave me alone,” she replied, and apparently, she really wasn’t in the mood for playful banter. You took a bite out of your sandwich, pondering if you should ask her about it, but she beat you to it. “Why is getting internships this early in college is so damn hard?”

“Apparently, places don’t trust complete newbies or youngsters,” you noted, “and they want someone who has already studied all the necessary subjects prior to hiring. Also, people with prior experience are preferred.” 

“Yet these are internship opportunities! Aren’t interns supposed to be newbies who are going to learn from the experience they’ll get through the internship?” Nobara irritatedly inquired, her implied commentary more a complaint than a question. You nodded.

“Absolutely. It makes no sense, it’s like they’re just trying to hire a junior lawyer with less rights and a lower pay rate,” you churned out through your mouthful of tuna and mayonnaise, “now that I think about it, it’s probably that, actually.” 

“I can’t go back home! I mean, I made it all the way here. If I had to go back I would never get over this. I need some money, and I need some money soon, otherwise this will all just have been a waste of my time. I should just get a part time job already instead of insisting in starting my internship as fast as possible.” 

Nobara covered her face, and she sounded genuinely upset. You paused your munching for a bit, and after washing it all down with a few gulps of soda, you leaned towards her, pulling her hands from her face.

“Hey, Nobara, we’re not letting that happen, okay? Neither me, Maki, Yuuji or Megumi.” you offered in an attempt to comfort her. She let you peel her palms away, and gazed at you in a mixture of frustration and anger, which softly subsided after your comment. You decided to push your luck, just a bit. “We can refugee you in Megumi’s car. We’ll get you a hammer so you can hit passerbies for shits and giggles to let some collegiate steam out.” 

Consternated, she shook your hands off of her while you chuckled. She made her best effort to still look pissed, but you noticed a tiny smile forming on the edges of her mouth.

“That’s a shit plan, but I’ll take you up on that hammer offer,” she said, and you smiled at her, a gesture she finally reciprocated.

“I’d expect no less from you. So, tell me, in which area are you looking for internships? Fashion law?” 

“Nope, entertainment.” Nobara picked your half eaten sandwich in her hands and took a bite before you could protest. “Maki had told me it was easier to get internships in entertainment law to garner some experience for a future in fashion law, but honestly? I’m skeptical now.” 

“There might be some openings soon. Have you tried Professor Gojo’s firm? It’s the same as Professor Nanami’s, isn’t it? I mean, that giant firm with dozens of departments and that nearly every teacher at our college seems to work for.” You stretched your hand to get your sandwich back, but she slapped you away. “Hey!” 

“I need it more than you, I’m sad!” 

“I’m sad too! I had four terrible internship interviews today, give it back!” 

You both entered a silly slapping match, and the few people walking past the table would look away nervously in fear of getting dragged into the middle of whatever war was going on over a cheap cafeteria tuna sandwich.

“You were having interviews today too?! How come you never told me?! I’m gonna eat your food for not telling me stuff, you’ve been weird ever since that party that you went off for a smoke and dipped!” She took another humongous bite and you jumped over the table, finally snatching whatever remained of your food out of her hands.

“I haven’t been weird!” you had, “and yes, I did. I am interviewing for internship openings in criminal law, but… well, you’ve been through that these days yourself. You know the drill.” 

She grunted with tuna smeared around her mouth, trying to reach for the rest of your sandwich, and it was your turn to slap her.

“Stop it, Nobara. Quit being so stingy and buy one for yourself!” 

“Not when I can eat your food for free,” she joked while taking a big gulp from your soda can, and you sighed, which only gave her a shit eating grin. “Did you interview for that spot they announced today?” 

“What? What opening?”

“I just saw it, there was a new flyer on the main hall board. It’s an internship for criminal law, apparently under the guidance of Professor Geto,” Nobara said while shrugging. “Apparently the huge firm now has a criminal law department too. It was announced last week or so.” 

“Did it say up until when they were taking applications?” 

***

Each and every tendon in your body tensed as you sat with the perfect lady-like crossed ankles at the 45º angle under your second-hand suit. The meeting room was, for the lack of a better word, mighty, having an entire glass wall peering into the rest of the office, and towered over you high enough to have you feeling like a tiny speck of dust humbly drifting its way over the clearly expensive brown, leather couch. A few people walked by as you waited, and the mahogany table seemed big enough to fit three people. It was probably worth your entire year’s tuition, and you wondered if the ceiling height really needed to be tailored for elves. Or ents. Tree people, perhaps.

The firm’s name hung high right in front of you, the logo and letters made out of stainless steel illuminated by LEDs behind it. Opulence wasn’t a big enough word to describe that pompous display of corporate wealth.

You were fished out of your rags to riches daydreams by the pivoting door opening, figuring it was your interviewer for the position. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the already well-known foxy-eyed, long haired Professor to come in, but a much more stoic individual with the polar opposite for a hair, not only in length but in color too. You already knew him from afar, as your commercial law Professor. He carried himself in a dignified manner, and upon further inspection, not only was his navy blue suit absolutely pristine, he also didn’t have a single hair strand out of place. You got up to greet him, bowing respectfully, and he returned the gesture.

“Good afternoon, Mrs.,” he said as he sat down on his chair across from you, “my name is Nanami Kento and I’ll be responsible for your interview today.”

You introduced yourself, and remarked, “apologies, but I thought Prof- I mean, Mr. Geto would be the one responsible for this interview today.”

 “As it stands currently, the criminal law department is my responsibility,” Nanami clarified, “so I decided I’d be the one responsible for interviewing our future team. I currently work in our corporate law department.”

You acquiesced with a professional smile. Something about how every tiny detail in him was on point gave you enough leads to conclude that of course this man took it upon himself to be the one responsible for the interviews.

“I’ve read in your resume that you are currently undertaking criminal law I and criminal procedure law I,” Nanami said as he held your resume in his hand, glancing at you and then at the paper, “which isn’t ideal for an intern entering a newly built department.”

Harsh enough?

You readjusted yourself on your chair before speaking.

“Yes, I am.”

He hummed quietly and pulled another paper sheet from his briefcase, and even if his facial expression was perfectly collected, something about how the edges of his lips curled gave away that he was less than happy about whatever was written on it.

“Our HR insisted I should bring this questionnaire with me today, so that I could ask you this list of questions as part of our interview,” he stated, his words followed by a quiet sigh. Nanami then proceeded to tilt the paper towards him and took a moment before proceeding. “Tell me more about yourself in three… captivating anecdotes.”

His voice sounded robotic, as if he was feigning not to loathe the question at hand, and deep down, you did find it amusing. Not enough to distract yourself from the fact that you were usually horrible at interviews altogether, though.

“I’m currently in my late twenties. I started law school last year, and worked during my early twenties to save money for tuition. I’m really passionate about criminal law, that is why I applied.”

Oh, God. What was that?

Well, you sounded robotic too, listing off obvious factualities as if providing a recipe’s ingredients. Both of you stared at each other in silence, wondering if that was what this question was supposed to infer, and it took the two of you so long to speak up again that it became uncomfortable.

Clearing his throat, Nanami unconsciously loosened his tie — barely — before continuing.

Well, at least I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable.

“What…” he paused for a moment, and seemed to be biting down a discontented sigh, “animal would you be?” His gaze quickly darted down the sheet of paper, and his displeasure was palpable. For someone with such a straight face, his eyes were very telling.

What are these questions? Are we a hip tech company? Nanami thought to himself, wondering if he should make a new list to leave at HR. He was quick to discard the thought once he realized that meant he’d be telling other people how to do their jobs, something he did enough of already.

You didn’t quite know what the hell to answer.

“I… don’t know? I haven’t really thought about that in my life? A cat, perhaps?”

“I haven’t thought about that either, don’t worry, that’s unimportant. Let’s move on to the next question. How…” Nanami lifted an eyebrow, and that alone was enough to tell he was absolutely consternated, “many basketballs can fit inside a bus?”

“… Huh?”

Is this serious?

“I apologize, I believe there must have been some sort of mix-up at the HR, let me…”

Nanami was interrupted by three knocks on the glass wall. You both turned your heads to see Professor Gojo pointing at something — the paper Nanami held in his hands — while subsequently making a thumbs up, a wide grin smeared all over his face.

Without uttering a word nor missing a beat, Nanami got up, walked towards the glass and pulled on something you hadn’t yet noticed. Immediately, blinds slowly descended in front of the glass wall, and Nanami calmly walked his way back to his chair as Gojo’s face tried to keep peering inside the meeting room, descending alongside the rim of the blinds. He kept plastering his hands over the glass like a mimic.

A faint pained moan and a thud echoed once the blinds were about a foot away from reaching the floor.

“Is everything okay?” you inquired, pointing at Gojo’s direction.

“Ignore that.”

That wasn’t a request. You nodded. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect. Let’s also ignore this for a while,” Nanami remarked while putting the sheet of questions aside with his fingertips as if it was radioactive. “Let’s try something else.”

Nanami had this feeling — a familiar one — that he’d be able to pry from you what he needed to know if he went about this interview in a more practical fashion. It reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“I’m going to describe a hypothetical scenario, and I want you to debate it with me,” he stated.

“Okay.”

“A client comes to this office being investigated of homicide and he wants to hire the firm to represent them in Court. They intend to plead not guilty.” you nodded, and Nanami continued, “The victim was shot, but there was no gun to be found in the crime scene. However, the client was the only person in the vicinity apart from the victim’s body. The client’s clothes — a long sleeved shirt and jeans — are evidence that has been collected at the crime scene, but no forensics were requested for it by the prosecution. When questioned in their first meeting, the client is adamant that they did not commit the crime. The attorney needs to decide which path to take regarding evidence they’ll request or submit. Now, I ask you, which type of evidence would the attorney request if the client is truly innocent?”

You took a deep breath while mentally going over the hypothetical scenario Nanami had just relayed, and considering all he mentioned, there was only one possibility.

“If my client was truly innocent, I’d ask for forensic evidence on their clothes. Guns leave gunpowder vestiges on things like clothes, so if this person didn’t actually pull the trigger, there should be no gunpowder on their sleeves.”

Nanami acquiesced, but remained silent. 

Ok, this is not the only thing he wants to know.

“Also… I’d tell exactly that to the client.”

Nanami’s face remained completely expressionless, but something about how he tilted his head less than an inch gave you the feeling that he seemed pleased with your answer.

“And why would you do that?”

“We need to work with accurate information. If the client was lying, and we submitted a request for that evidence — forensics on their clothes — we’d be tanking their defense. They need to know what we’ll be submitting as evidence and why. I believe telling that to our client would be enough to sway them into telling us the truth,” you sighed, before concluding, “people lie. Even when they shouldn’t.”

Nanami silently picked your resume back into his hands, and seemed to scan it quickly with his eyes. You knew your chances were slim, considering you had just started Criminal Law that very semester, something he didn’t fail to notice.

After a minute, he spoke again.

“Would you be willing to use some of your spare time to study topics you might not have seen yet in criminal law?”

“Yes.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest. This was it.

Here goes nothing.

“Then, it’s settled. Can you start on Monday?”

***

This wasn’t Higuruma’s usual go-to wish when he found himself behind the Passo’s wheel, but truth of the matter was, he hoped more than anything for his car to breakdown before he got to his destination. It wasn’t something completely out of the question considering his car’s track record, but as if some destiny’s mockery had been bestowed upon him that morning, even the clack-clack-clacks he was already used to hear for the past three months were gone. As Murphy’s Law would have it, the Passo glided over the asphalt like butter. 

“Of course you won’t fail me when I need you to, you unreliable piece of-”he muttered to himself under a discontented huff.

Put upon wasn’t strong enough to convey how Higuruma was feeling, his knuckle-white grip around the steering wheel being enough to give him a sharp pain in his palms that would surely follow him for the next few hours. In a sense, he had been knuckle-white tense ever since that morning, thinking about this endeavor he was kicking himself to push through. It was the nth time he’d tried to make that visit over the past year, one that he dreaded with each and every fiber of his being. 

The Professor eyed his passenger’s seat for a second, his gaze lingering on the plastic bag he carried with him that day. Inside, there were a bottle of Kirin, an incense, and a single sunflower. The flower was definitely too long to fit properly inside the bag, and it’s head peeped though the opening, yellow petals flickering while the car moved, every ridge on the road seemingly making it jump further and further out of its container.

With one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching out, he tried shoving the sunflower back into the bag, and in between eyeing the bag, then the road, picking the flower, pushing it, the bag sliding off the seat, loud news coming on the radio, Higuruma getting startled, his glasses slipping down his nose bridge, him pushing them back in place with his shoulder, tires screeching, a car horn, his heart pounding and his ears ringing, Higuruma came to the sensible conclusion that he should, as any responsible adult would, take a break.

I need a smoke.

Who he was visiting was definitely not going anywhere.

Checking where he was, Higuruma noticed a cafe nearby, and as fate would have it, there was a single parking spot right in front of it. He maneuvered the Passo, and the car fit neatly in between the white lines. Higuruma pulled his sunflower shawl — this time, not caught under any death trap, but laid over his back seat  alongside your scarf —, threw it around his neck and got out. He took a moment to stretch his fingers in the cold air, his breath clouding in front of his mouth, and tapped around his coat to take his wallet, finally inserting some coins into the park meter and crossing the guardrail by the sidewalk. 

He’d have exactly thirty minutes to get his shit together.

The cafe was warm, inviting, and strangely familiar, its orange light almost emanating the smell of coffee beans, croissants and decadent redemption for weary travelers. The store front had a glass display through which he saw an assortment of sweet and salty baked goods. Higuruma would probably pick one of those to eat — the greasiest one, if possible —, had he not been carrying a rock in place of his stomach for the past few hours.

With his resolution waning, he mindlessly took a step back while peeping, and sighed, his tired sigh weighing on his body deciding for him that an espresso was probably the way to go.

Stepping inside, Higuruma paid no mind to whatever was around him, and waited for his turn in line to order his drink. Across from him, you nearly choked, half a donut shoved into your powdered-sugar smeared mouth, nearly spilling your own coffee over your second-hand suit.

After your interview, you thought it’d be a good idea to have a snack, and made your way inside the closest, warmest, coziest cafe you found, which was across the firm. 

At that moment, you found yourself in a cliché adult life predicament — you just saw someone you knew, but they didn’t see you. Should you go over to greet them? Should you not? Would simply leaving be rude? Should you go actually talk to the man you definitely had — and shouldn’t have — a crush on?

You clutched your coffee harder as the thoughts flew around in your mind, as second nature at this point to avoid giving him another beverage shower.

After some quick consideration, you decided you would at least say hello, after all, it was the polite thing to do. You shoved the rest of your food into your mouth, washed it all down with the rest of your coffee, haphazardly cleaned around your mouth with a napkin and slowly walked towards him, stopping a few feet away. Somehow, he still hadn’t seen you, apparently too immersed in thought.

That was when you noticed a shawl around his neck.

It was pretty damn ugly.

“Professor, hi!” you greeted, and Higuruma got yanked out of whatever daydreams — or waking nightmares — he had been simmering in while waiting in line.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to meet anyone here,” Higuruma replied, “I just stopped by for a snack.”

“Oh, nice. Their coffee is pretty good,” you said, “I got the espresso.”

“And… I hope that you’re finished already? With your coffee, I mean.” he asked while checking your hands, his usually unaffected tone slightly playful, earning him a chuckle from you.

“Rest assured, I’m not assaulting you nor your ugly shawl with my coffee,” you quipped, but his eyes only widened. His owlish eyes blinked once, and then twice, in absolute silence.

That was when you realized.

Oh. I said that out loud.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Awfully hypocritical of both of us, huh?” he noted, with a discreet smile pulling on his lips. 

Relieved, realizing he hadn’t taken offense, you sheepishly returned his smile, “I guess so. I don’t think I’ll get to keep being hypocritical about our ugly scarfs, though. I can’t seem to find mine, it’s been gone ever since that party.”

It was like a light bulb went on in Higuruma’s mind, and he cleared his throat before saying, “well, I may just prove you wrong. Follow me.”

Not fully understanding what he meant by that, you stood by him while he paid for his coffee, got it and walked outside. The cold winter breeze prickled your cheeks and your uncovered neck like hair-thin razor blades, and you followed Higuruma towards a car that wasn’t all that strange to you. Upon further inspection, you noticed that it was indeed his car, the old navy blue beat up thing you used as a shield for the wind during that night when you tried and failed at least half a dozen times to light a cigarette.

And then met him, and gave him a vodka scare.

And helped patting him dry with your-

“Here,” he called out, opening the door to the back seat. Sure enough, you saw that red, frizzly old thing tangled up in a ball.

“My scarf!” you reached inside and took it out, instantly throwing it around your neck. Higuruma noticed how you were genuinely pleased to have finally found it, and thought to himself that he’d most likely feel the same way if he ever lost and found his beat up, old shawl. 

It was just one of those things imbued with a sense of history and familiarity that only beat up, old tokens from days past had.

“Thank you,” you whispered, while sliding your fingers through the worn out cotton. “It was a gift. I might complain about it more often than not, but-”

“But it’s an important part of your life,” he replied, and you both glanced at each other while you nodded.

“Yes. Something like that. It’s my favorite curse to carry around while complaining about it, you know?” you mused, adjusting it around your neck and gratefully welcoming the warmth it brought around your neck. 

“I think I do,” he answered finally, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Let me repay you,” you offered. “Can I offer you a snack, or anything? Perhaps a smoke?”

“I’ll take you up on that cigarette offer,” he replied, and you pulled your pack out of your coat. Giving it a few taps, a cigarette popped up, and you took it in your lips, pulling another one and handing it to him.

Against his better judgement, Higuruma was slightly disappointed, and for a second, felt like kicking himself over it.

Idiot, you can’t seriously be expecting her to light a cigarette for me every time she offers you a smoke. Actually, I shouldn’t expect that at all.

 Against his will, Higuruma felt his cheeks warming up, and he tried his best to dive his face into his shawl while politely took the cigarette off your hands. You didn’t notice his moves and offered him your lighter — the same yellow, disposable one he had given you days ago. He picked it up, lit his cigarette and returned it.

“I see you still have it,” Higuruma noted, smiling gently, and you acquiesced.

“It has been my faithful companion for these past few weeks. I’m just glad I haven’t lost it like I lost my scarf,” you said before chuckling.

Higuruma leaned over the guardrail with his elbows, finally relaxing after… God knows how long. Slowly, he seemed to be getting lost in thought, and you seized the opportunity to better look at his shawl.  It had a sunflower pattern that went in a straight line right in front of it.

Still looking around as he stewed in his silent contemplations, you noticed there was a bag laying on top of his passenger’s seat. Peeping through it, stood a single sunflower, and what seemed to be the top of a Kirin bottle.

A sunflower man, hm?

The thought amused you as the corners of your mouth perked up in a gleeful smile, but you were quickly pulled out from it.

“Do you work nearby?” he asked, while taking a drag from his cigarette. “This is far from campus.”

“No. I mean, not yet. I was just… chasing my dreams,” you remarked, puffing some smoke. “What about you, Professor?”

Higuruma chuckled softly.

“I was being haunted by mine.”

You must’ve looked puzzled, because he quickly amended, “I was just on my way to visit someone and took a break for some coffee, that’s all.”

“Oh, I see,” you replied, realizing you were probably getting in his way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you from your appointment. I-”

“It’s okay, there’s no one waiting for me. Or so I like to think.”

That comment left you with more questions than answers.

“Apologies. I don’t mean to keep you from going about the rest of your day too,” he bid behind a curtain of smoke, “and thank you for the cigarette. I really needed it.”

With your final puffs, you put your cigarette out and smiled at Higuruma.

“It’s okay, Professor. I should really get going, though. We are, indeed, far from campus and I’d like to get to my dorm before it’s dark.”

With a bow, you walked away, leaving Higuruma to his own devices. He sighed, alone with himself and his thoughts once again, turning his attention once more to the bag he had inside his car.

“Hiromi,” a familiar voice called out. Higuruma turned around, only to be met by Nanami, who had a indecipherable expression on his face.

Minutes before, Nanami decided to visit the nearby cafe and check if they had his favorite casse croûte that day. He wouldn’t mind getting a croissant, though.

 Upon stepping outside his building with dreams of pastries swirling around his overworked mind, he noticed you and Higuruma outside the cafe, and figured that was the perfect opportunity to approach you both and introduce you as the new intern for the criminal law department. It was just a matter of time before Higuruma accepted his offer, as Nanami thought, and you’d be both working together. However, before he could, Nanami noticed you and Higuruma were chatting, and not only that, but you approached Higuruma’s car and got something — apparently belonging to you — from his back seat. The ugliest red scarf Nanami had ever seen.

… What?

Nanami then remembered that you were a student on the very same university he tended to.

The same one in which Higuruma was a teacher too.

Why does Hiromi have things belonging to a student in the backseat of his car, of all places?  

Nanami was at a loss for words, and faltered for a few moments, wondering how he should ask Hiromi about this. That is, if he even should ask Hiromi about anything at all. Nanami decided to watch from afar, and something about the way Higuruma was carrying himself bothered Nanami.

He had only seen his best friend behaving like that in very specific scenarios, ones in which Hiromi definitely shouldn’t be interacting with a student of his.

After you left, Kento finally walked towards Hiromi, still uncertain if he should question his friend about the nature of your relationship with him. He could be imagining things.

But something was definitely disturbing him, he was sure of it. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“Kento, hi! Oh… I had forgotten, your firm is nearby, isn’t it?” Hiromi asked while looking around. “Sorry, I always seem to forget where it is. That explains why this cafe felt so familiar. Care for a smoke?”

“No.”

“You haven’t smoked with me in a long time,” Higuruma offered, pulling his own cigarette pack from his coat’s inner pocket. 

“I quit years ago,” Nanami reminded him, trying to put an end to this conversation detour.

“You still smoke on special occasions,” Higuruma offered, “eh, I wish I had your resolve.”

“You do, you just fail to direct it at things that will benefit you in the long run.”

“Just my little human shortcoming, I guess,” Higuruma finally replied, sparing Nanami a soft smile. He walked towards his car while unlocking it, “Let’s have something to eat, the coffee opened up my appetite. I just need to get more coins in case I end up going over the meter’s time limit, hold on.”

“Hiromi,” Nanami said once again, his tone graver than usual. That caught Higuruma’s attention.

“Hm, is everything okay?” Higuruma asked while leaning into his car.

Before Nanami could go on with his planned line of inquiry, he noticed what was over passenger’s seat. Especially the sunflower.

“Are you at it again?” Nanami asked, gesturing with his head towards it.

“Ah, you saw it…” Higuruma commented, as if he was a child being caught red handed while making a mess out of the house. “Well, yes. I’m trying to, and failing at it once again.”

“You know you don’t have to go, right?” Kento offered, while pulling some change from his pocket. “I have coins, we’ll be fine. Let me get you a snack, this cafe has the best casse croute around.”

“I do have to go, though,” Higuruma closed the door and stepped back onto the sidewalk. “I should, at least.”

Higuruma’s earlier energy seemed to wane ever so slightly, his shoulders falling while he slouched, unconsciously making himself smaller. 

“I don’t think I’ll manage to do it today, either,” he finally said, his eyes low on his feet, and his voice barely above a whisper.

Assessing the situation, it was clear that Higuruma was in no way in the right mindset to have that conversation regarding you, so Nanami put a mental note on it to ask about it at a later time. He stepped beside Hiromi and put a hand gently on his shoulder, sighing.

“Is it low tar?” Nanami questioned, clearing his throat to disguise his displeasure.

“Hm, what?”

“Your cigarette. Is it low tar?”

Higuruma huffed, a tiny smile forming on his lips as he said, “yes, yes it is.”

In a smooth motion, Higuruma pulled his pack back out of his coat and took two cigarettes out of it, handing one to Nanami along with a lighter. With the disposition of a man ready to face the electric chair, Kento pursed his lips around the cigarette, and lit it, only to be thrown in a coughing fit moments later.

“How the mighty do fall,” Higuruma noted with a discreet smirk on his lips, “you used to smoke more than me.”

“Shut up,” Nanami managed to churn out in between coughs, “this brand is awful.”

His friend chuckled while taking one long drag from his cigarette.

“Hey, Kento.”

“What?” Nanami considered tossing the cigarette as far as he could, but tried his best to survive it, even if just for Hiromi’s benefit.

“Is that offer still on the table? To…” Hiromi paused for a moment, clearing his throat, “hm, work in your firm?”

Managing to get his throat and lungs under control, Nanami glanced at Hiromi, knowing full well that good things came to those who wait.

Just like he had.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Hi, did you know I like to shamelessly plug people's work? No? So, yeah. I love doing that.

I got this STUNNING commission from @radish-breath and I have no shame to admit that I scrumpt a scream never screamt before when I got this 😭💜 I think you should go check out her work if you still haven't, lots of great sfw and nsfw pieces (all truly delectable 🤌) - Twitter | Patreon | Carrd.

Rad, once again (you already listened to me screeching like a banshee and ugly crying over it, lol), thank you very much for this amazing piece. It is beyond my wildest dreams alsdjasldkj

-

Tag list (updated):

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @redlikerozez @killerplink

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @cmdrfupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider 

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @yeonjunarchives

@soft--cherry @quinnyundertow @traffi @shibataimu

[sureuncertainty]

hopefully it's just tonight but i haven't written at all in the last couple of days and i tried again tonight and it didn't work AGAIN i just can't get myself to write idk sometimes i really feel like the sequel to silence agenda is literally never ever going to actually get written and there's no point in even trying

[plugnuts]

I just realised that cyber au part seven is gonna be 32 panels long. tumblr's image limit is 30. part seven will have 34 images total. gdi

[thebeckster]

The fun part of trying to figure out if your fic is gonna be canon-divergent about canonical character deaths is like...

yeah, I get why they had to die in canon. if there's a bloodline curse, then obviously the bloodline's gotta end or else the curse will never truly be lifted. And you know, it shows something when a character decides to give their life in service to others.

But at the same time!

If they live, then they no longer receive their deathbead absolution. They have to live with what they have done. They have to shoulder the guilt. They have to continue fighting the curse. They no longer get to die and become a great hero, they have to continue to live with their flaws, and with people knowing their sins.

There is such delicious angst to be found when a character's redemption arc ends on their deathbed. The begging forgiveness. The fear that they will die without making amends. Receiving that peace, that forgiveness, that confirmation that the person they were most worried about it alive and safe and right there, and letting go and dying in a moment of peace.

But then there's the slow torturous angst of a character having to stew in their emotions, fight with their demons, live with the consequences of their actions. Go on knowing that they may have been granted forgiveness, but can they ever forgive themself? They could never forget what they did. Their sins will haunt them all their life, the curse will always be snapping at their heels. So then what? How do they learn to live with it? How long do they suffer until they finally do find true peace? Do they ever? Or do they die old and comfortable and beloved, but agonized by a lifetime of guilt, tormented by the true absolution they could never get. Or does something like that change them so thoroughly their life takes a completely different track? Do they abandon the path that led them to the position they were in when they committed so many wrongs? Do they give up everything their life had been leading up to at that point? Does fate allow them to retreat like that?

If they live, do they just keep getting caught in the same destructive cycle until it utterly ruins them, and eventually they die a shell of their former self?

[allisonreader]

I wrote part of a post that I tucked safely into my drafts, possibly never to see the light of day.

[thankskenpenders]

The Lara-Su Chronicles: Beginnings review

The day has finally come. Many, understandably, thought we'd never get here. Maybe we shouldn't have gotten here. We've been through so much. Lawsuits, reboots, redesigns, unreleased NFTs, empty legal threats over the fact that movie Knuckles has a dad, an attempt to license out Scourge the Hedgehog to fans that immediately got canceled (in both meanings of the term), and many, MANY idiotic Twitter controversies. But now, here we are.

Thirteen years after first announcing it in the middle of his legal battles with Archie and Sega that changed the American Sonic comics forever, former writer Ken Penders has released the first part of his new series: The Lara-Su Chronicles.

Yes. I had to buy the book. I had to take one for the team. Look at the fucking URL of this blog, a blog I've been using to talk about the American Sonic comics for nearly a decade while the specter of this book loomed in the distance. The one time I've actually been paid to write an article about anything in any professional capacity, it was an article about the Penders lawsuits. I'm cited on his Wikipedia page. There was no way I was going to skip reviewing this, and there was no guarantee that scans would ever turn up online given the incredibly small audience for this trash. (Only 166 people preordered this, and even that number feels way higher than it should be.) No, I had to preorder it to ensure I could get a copy and cover it for the blog... even if that meant my name would be forever immortalized in the list of "supporters" in the back of the book. These are the sacrifices I must make as a woman who stumbled ass backwards into being an amateur Archie Sonic historian.

So, what exactly is in this book? How much of it is new? How bad is it? How did we even get here in the first place? How can this exist without Sega pursuing legal action? What happens next? And, most importantly... why are there multiple depictions of an Archie Sonic character breastfeeding in this book?

I'm here to answer those questions as best I can, and in agonizing detail.

First, for those just tuning in to this decades-long saga or those who maybe don't know the full story, here's a refresher on the background info.

"What the hell is this?"

The Lara-Su Chronicles is Ken Penders' long-dreaded long-awaited continuation of his 1994-2006 run on Archie Sonic, ignoring everything written after he left by other writers like Ian Flynn. In particular, it picks up from the cliffhanger ending of the 2003-2004 arc "Mobius: 25 Years Later," which was set in what Ken considers the definitive canonical future of the series. It stars Knuckles' daughter from that future era, Lara-Su, among other new and returning characters. The project was first announced near the start of Ken's legal battle with Archie in 2011, and he's been posting WIP previews online for about a decade. Now, after all this time, a Lara-Su Chronicles book finally exists.

We'll get to the actual contents of that book in a bit.

"He can do that without getting in trouble with Sega?"

Believe it or not, yes, he can.

Thanks to the outcome of Archie Comics' woefully mismanaged lawsuits against Ken (yes, they sued him after he started filing for copyrights, not the other way around), he now has full legal ownership of every story he wrote for Archie Sonic and every character he created for the series. This was explicitly granted to him in the terms of the settlement between him and Archie (acting on behalf of Sega). He can even reprint his old Sonic material as-is to his heart's content. The main catch is just that he can't write new stories featuring Sega characters or trademarks, and his new stories also have to be distinct from Sonic at a glance to avoid confusing readers. As such, reprints can't use Sonic iconography on the cover, a few Sega characters (mainly Knuckles) have been renamed and slightly redesigned in the new stories, and the art style has been changed to less closely resemble Sonic. But otherwise, he can do whatever he wants with his own characters.

All of this is because Archie lost the original copy of Ken's work-for-hire contract that signed over the rights to his work. Without that (or any alternative that was considered permissible in court), his comics and characters are the property of their creator by default. Yes, those old comics are full of Sega stuff, but Sega doesn't automatically own the copyright for every drawing of Sonic in existence. And Sega put their stamp of approval all over those comics and let them get sold at retail for decades, even though (in the eyes of the court) there was no legal paperwork granting them ownership of any of it. It's almost like they were unwittingly distributing a fan comic for years and declaring it a fair use of their property, and now there's no takesies backsies. It's a strange and unique copyright situation. Again, they worked all this out in the settlement. And, yes, fans have long speculated that Ken stole and destroyed his own contract to regain the rights to his work, but frankly Archie was so incompetent throughout the lawsuit (it went so bad that they had to fire and replace their lawyers midway through) that I completely buy the idea of them just losing important legal documents.

Also, in case it needs to be spelled out: while Ken's a weirdo, it's ultimately a good thing for creatives everywhere that Archie lost their lawsuit against Ken. We do not want to live in a world where corporations can claim ownership of peoples' work without the contracts to back it up. That would be an incredibly dangerous legal precedent to set. And more comic creators, and artists in general, should own their own work! Corporations are not your friend! They'll delete your work for a tax write-off in a heartbeat! It's just bewildering that this guy, of all people, was the creator who ended up successfully getting his shit back, and that this is what he's doing with it.

"What about his old collaborators? Are they involved? Is he paying them?"

Ken is mostly doing The Lara-Su Chronicles solo, though he has, in fact, talked about compensating the artists involved in any material he's reprinting. The ones who give enough of a shit to get paid for a small scale reprint of something they did 20 years ago, anyway.

On the subject of his collaborators, it's also worth pointing out that Ken's wasn't the only contract that was lost. Most of the early Archie Sonic writers from before Ian Flynn's time seem to be in the same boat as Ken, with the ownership of their stories and characters defaulting back to them. Again, Archie fucked up big time. But like I said, most of them don't really seem to give a shit. For most of them, Sonic was just a random temporary gig they took to pay the bills while Marvel was busy going bankrupt in the '90s, not the thing that defined their entire careers.

The only other Archie Sonic contributor who's tried to do anything on the level of what Ken is doing was writer and editor Scott Fulop. In 2016 he attempted to sue Archie for the unauthorized use of what are now retroactively considered his copyrighted characters and stories, and he even announced a standalone comic about his most famous Sonic character, the recurring villain Mammoth Mogul (sort of a pastiche of DC's Vandal Savage and Marvel's Kingpin, with wizard powers added for spice). However, Fulop lost his lawsuit because he didn't put together a particularly compelling case. Since then he seems to have wiped all traces of his ill-advised Mammoth Mogul comic and his company, Narrative Ark Entertainment, from the internet. For now, this leaves The Lara-Su Chronicles the only project of its kind.

"What about those other Archie Sonic reprints he just announced?"

At the time of writing, Ken is once again claiming that he's trying to get the band back together to reprint all of Archie Sonic, now under the bad new banner "Floating Island Productions: MOBIAN LINE" that I can't imagine he consulted literally anyone else on.

So, like, look. As we've established, Ken can reprint his own stories. And if he can work something out with the other contributors whose contracts were lost, he can print their work, too. But there is no fucking way he's getting his hands on Ian Flynn's run, which Sega undoubtedly holds the copyright for. Even if they don't, Ian needs to maintain a good working relationship with both Sega and IDW if he's to keep his job, so he'd never go for this. Not to mention that Ian and Ken just... don't get along! Ken's whole plan here seems to be predicated on IDW going out of business (a thing he REALLY wants to happen) and freeing up the Sonic comic license, after which he knocks on Sega's door and goes "hey I've still got dirt on you guys," blackmailing them into giving him the Sonic license back so that he can reprint the later comics. Every step of this plan is ludicrous. It's never gonna happen.

He's been saying he wants to reprint the whole series for a few years now, though. This isn't really anything new. And despite his lofty plans that set Sonic Twitter ablaze, he quickly backpedaled. The only specific things in the works right now are a "two-volume omnibus" of all of his Knuckles stories and a collection of artist Scott Shaw's work on the very early Archie Sonic issues, since they're on good terms with each other. I have no idea how Ken plans on packaging these when he can't put any Sega characters or the Freedom Fighters on the covers, but these projects are small enough in scale that there's a decent chance they'll see the light of day. Scott Shaw only did like five issues. But anything beyond that? I'll believe it when I see it.

Or, y'know, this could've all just been a publicity stunt for his new book. I wouldn't put it past him. Let's just focus on the book that actually exists.

"So he finally did it? He made a whole Lara-Su book? It's out? He finished it??"

Yes and no.

The book that's out now is The Lara-Su Chronicles: Beginnings, a prologue for the series of seven graphic novels Ken somehow plans on making, even though it's taken him 13 years to put out literally anything new. I don't know whether or not this counts as book one of seven, because it only features 30 pages of new comics. 30.5 if I'm being generous.

Most of the book is actually just a reprint of his infamous Archie Sonic storyline "Mobius: 25 Years Later", which ran from issue #131 to #144 in 2003-2004. (Again, yes, he can reprint this, he just can't put Sonic on the cover.) Why's it infamous? Well, Ken had been building anticipation for this future era of the series for basically his entire run. We kept seeing King Sonic and Queen Sally from the future. Knuckles' entire backstory hinges on his dad having a vision of this future. Several years before Silver the Hedgehog was created, it was Lara-Su who was Sonic's equivalent to Future Trunks, the cool-looking child of one of the main characters who traveled back in time to try and prevent a dark future. Believe it or not, yes, there was hype for Lara-Su. And then we finally got M25YL, and none of that cool stuff happened. Instead it really ended up being about how unbearably boring the middle aged Sonic, Knuckles, Sally, and co. are in this peaceful future where Robotnik is dead and they're all married with kids, forced into traditional nuclear family gender roles. Lara-Su is present, but she mostly just does generic teen girl stuff and complains about how Knuckles won't let her do anything even though she REALLY wants to be the new Guardian of Angel Island, like, super bad! Come on, dad!!!

In its original printing, this meandering arc ended on an abrupt time travel cliffhanger that Ken was never able to follow up on before he left Archie in 2006. This new printing slightly changes that ending, using the unresolved timey-wimey shenanigans as a convenient excuse to alter the entire timeline. This creates the slightly different world of The Lara-Su Chronicles, where the few relevant Sega-owned characters have been replaced and everyone is ten times uglier.

After this, we finally get two short new stories picking up where M25YL left off: "The Storm," starring Acorn Kingdom super-spy and known creep Geoffrey St. John, and an early release of the first chapter of The Lara-Su Chronicles: Shattered Tomorrows, the first full TLSC graphic novel.

And now that we're all on the same page about what we're looking at, let's actually talk about the book!

The cover

Let's start by beating a dead horse. The cover art: it's still bad! But why is it bad?

The cover is, of course, based on Patrick Spaziante's cover from Archie Sonic #131, the start of the "Mobius: 25 Years Later" arc. (Ken did the layout for that cover, though, so in the eyes of the law he's the original creator who owns that cover.) That cover was, itself, a tribute to the iconic cover of Giant-Size X-Men #1 by Gil Kane and Dave Cockrum, the issue that introduced the version of the team with Wolverine, Storm, Nightcrawler, etc.

Ken seems to have forgotten that the point of both these covers was to hype up the arrival of a new cast of characters. The new guys are supposed to make a dramatic entrance front and center. That's the focal point. Meanwhile, the cover for Beginnings has the old timeline versions of the cast from Archie Sonic dramatically bursting out of a shattered crystal ball, while their new counterparts look on in mild bemusement - if they're even bothering to look at all, since most of the characters here are just copied and pasted from their profile pages. That's just not how you do this particular homage! The point is supposed to be "out with the old, in with the new." And why are they using a crystal ball to view the past? Hell, why are they even using a crystal ball at all? The original arc was presented as a magical vision of the future courtesy of Tails' uncle Merlin (don't ask), but the new story leans all the way into being futuristic sci-fi.

Of course, there is no real artistic intent at play here. The old versions of the characters are placed front and center in the crystal ball simply because Ken traced over Spaziante's original art of Lara-Su and Julie-Su (the only two characters on the Sonic cover he owns) and threw out the rest, ruining the composition in the process. Look at the awkward empty space where Sonic, Sally, and Rotor once were, and the new drawing of The Character Formerly Known As Knuckles who's no longer properly centered between his wife and daughter. Even if Ken can claim ownership of the cover because he did the original layout, this all just feels scummy and lame.

And, yeah, if it needs to be said, the new characters and Ken's new rendering style look like absolute fucking dogshit. Putting new Lara-Su directly next to old Lara-Su does her no favors. The shattered glass effect looks absolutely atrocious. I could go on, but we'll have plenty of time to talk about the art style when we see how bad the stories inside look.

Changes to "Mobius: 25 Years Later"

Overall, 99% of M25YL is presented identically to its original printing. Sonic, Sally, Knuckles, et al. are still present with no changes to their names and no tweaks to the art. Even the original cover for issue #131 is included only a few pages into this book with its Archie, Sonic, and Sega logos still intact and everything. Again, because of the weird copyright situation described above, these preexisting comics can be released without any changes.

There is exactly one bizarre change to the art, though, where a hand drawn shot of Angel Island is replaced with an unfitting photo background and the ugly Floating Island photobash that Ken has been using as his personal logo for decades. I think he only did this as part of a test for his motion comic app that nobody asked for. I don't know why this had to make it into the print version. It's like the book is firing a warning shot for what's to come if you keep reading.

The new content begins on the final page of M25YL. In the original wet fart of a cliffhanger ending, Sonic and co. accidentally alter the timeline with an old time machine of Robotnik's and Lara-Su begins to fade away. Then, after everything goes white, we just cut to the present day heroes going "gee, you ever think about the future?" In this new printing, that last bit has been cut, and the rest of the page has been awkwardly shrunk down so that Ken can fit in a new panel. We now see the hands of an off-screen villain, seemingly named "Override," proclaiming that "the Praetorian" (Knuckles) has messed up the timeline again and that they'll finally get their revenge.

Who is this Override? I have no fucking clue. The new stories in this book make no mention of them. You have to buy the next book to find out.

My confusion over the identity of this villain overlaps with another big problem: name changes. So many names and nouns have been arbitrarily changed in The Lara-Su Chronicles, even ones Ken didn't have to change for copyright reasons, and I only know what half of them are replacing because Ken's been tweeting about this shit for years.

The echidnas are now a totally original alien race called "the Echyd'nya." Even in flashbacks to events from M25YL attempting to mimic the old art style, if it's on a new comic page, they're gonna call themselves "Echyd'nya." Evil echidna faction the Dark Legion is now the "Cyberdark Dominion," hailing from the "Cyberdark Colony." The Brotherhood of Guardians is still the Brotherhood of Guardians, but now the main guardian is called "The Praetorian." Angel Island is still called "The Floating Island," like it was in the older Archie comics, but it's ALSO sometimes called "Avion"? When I read this I wasn't sure if he had randomly renamed Albion, the other echidna city from the Archie comics. But no. Now we have an Albion AND an Avion. Sally is mentioned simply as "Princess Acorn," while Sonic is referenced once as an unnamed "blue-spined Erinaceinae," using the scientific name for hedgehog to make it sound more sci-fi. In an incredibly ballsy move, Ken even mentions Robotnik as "the Insurrectionist Kintobor," retaining his original surname from the Archie comics that's just "Robotnik" backwards. Guess Sega never trademarked that one.

Aside from every name change being a downgrade, this leads to confusion when you're not sure if something is supposed to be new, or if it's just an Archie thing you're supposed to recognize despite having a new name and design. Is "Override" someone I'm supposed to know already? Am I just supposed to have read a fucking tweet from Ken where he said he changed the name of some existing villain to "Override"? The answer is no, but I had to term search his Twitter just to verify this.

Moving on!

New story #1: "The Storm"

If you've been following the WIPs, this is that story about Geoffrey St. John that Ken's been posting previews of for almost a decade. The title page copyright dates it to 2015, and that absurdly long gestation is probably why the art is so inconsistent here. Even the style of speech bubbles and the font change between pages two and three.

This is a problem when there's supposed to be a deliberate and noticeable change in art style here signaling the moment where the time travel stuff alters the timeline, replacing the Archie Sonic world with the Lara-Su Chronicles world. If you don't already know that's what's going on, the idea isn't conveyed clearly at all. It just goes from one hideous art style to a slightly different one with no explanation.

The main problem here is that Ken has hitched his wagon to a franchise about anthropomorphic animals when he can't draw furries to save his life. (Though a bit later in the book we'll also begin to wonder if he can even still draw humans.) He's shifted away from the cartooniness of the original designs and given them more human proportions and facial features, but this just ends up making them look incredibly uncanny and lumpy and gross. With some designs he's trying to lean into more of a Star Trek alien vibe, but then he still insists upon retaining the giant Sonic eyes on most characters even though he has no idea how to make them emote.

The rendering of these godawful designs doesn't do them any favors, either. Ken's going for more of a painterly look now, but it almost seems as though he's shading everything with Photoshop's burn and dodge tools that are designed to darken and lighten select areas of a photo. The result is a muddy, smudgy look that makes it feel like the color layer has been smeared in vaseline. And it only looks worse after coming off of 14 chapters of M25YL that have way more palatable art.

The backgrounds, too, are a complete mess, a jumble of low res jpeg photo elements (sometimes with extremely noticeable pixelation), stock textures, and smooth digital gradients. There's no real sense of place here, and it gives everything a surreal, dreamlike quality when you can't really tell where anything is supposed to take place. This first story is seemingly set in a high-tech stronghold below Castle Acorn called "the Bunker," but it could just as easily be confused for the bridge of a spaceship. This whole story features characters speaking to each other over floating video displays and hologram projectors from three different locations, but without a hologram effect and without a clear sense of where the characters are it often feels like they're just in the same room as each other. Characters will be in one location on one photo background, and then the camera angle changes and they're in a completely different place, because Ken just uses mismatched photos off of the internet. It's been like 25 years since he first tried using photo backgrounds in the Archie comics and he hasn't gotten any better at it.

When I had my boyfriend read the book to see if it made literally any sense to him (it didn't), Anthony said this: "This is the kind of shit I'd see linked on a Second Life world that hasn't been touched since 2004." I think he really hit the nail on the head. Now, there's actually a contrarian part of me that thinks that might theoretically almost be kind of cool, in sort of a messy counterculture way. I love weird indie shit. I was a Homestuck reader! But this isn't a scrappy mixed media zine, or experimental outsider art from someone just messing around with Photoshop, or a loving throwback to weird old internet art, or even something intentionally bizarre and offputting like Xavier: Renegade Angel or a PilotRedSun video or whatever where the fact that it's weird and ugly is part of the humor. This is supposed to be a sincere sci-fi epic drawing on Star Trek and Jack Kirby comics, made by a guy who's been drawing comics professionally since the '80s. This is supposed to look good. This is supposed to compete with mainstream comics that are on sale right now. He thinks any day now IDW's gonna go out of business and Sega will come crawling back to him so that he can stamp the Sonic logo on shit like this. It just doesn't work.

But, okay. It's ugly. We knew it would be ugly. But that ugliness would be much easier to accept if it was in service of an otherwise genuinely good story. So what about the writing? After all this time, how does Ken choose to kick off this new saga? Well, credit where credit's due. "The Storm" feels like a proper continuation of Ken's writing style from M25YL.

Because it's eleven pages of characters standing around and talking while nothing fucking happens.

Here's the synopsis: A dog woman named Brownie, an ensign in the Royal Secret Service fresh out of training and the only character who's almost cute, walks up to Geoffrey to deliver a report. He's immediately suspicious of her, asking who let her in and if she's a spy for Elias (Sally's brother, if you're new here) or Alicia (Sally's mom). The art style suddenly shifts when the timeline is altered, but the scene continues uninterrupted. Geoffrey points a gun at Brownie when she won't say whose spy she is. Geoffrey is distracted by a call and proceeds to have a conversation via a mix of holograms and video screens with Remington (head of Echidnaopolis security), Spectre (Knuckles' great great great great great grandpa, the one with the helmet who always looks evil), and a new scientist character named Dr. Zephyr/Zephur. (The spelling of this character's name changes multiple times throughout the 11-page story, because I guess nine years wasn't enough time to spellcheck this shit.) They say a bunch of made up technobabble nonsense about how it looks like the timeline was just altered and Knuckles and co. seem to be involved. It's complete drivel that I'm not even going to try to make sense of. Everyone decides to investigate further, and the conversation ends. Brownie tells Geoffrey she's his spy, then walks out and implies she's actually Alicia's spy in her inner monologue.

To be continued!!!

Yes, that's it. It's really just a bunch of technobabble where some characters talk about how it seems like the timeline has been fucked with. That's it. The whole time Geoffrey doesn't even get up out of his damn chair, which he's of course sitting in backwards to show how cool he is. It's just 11 pages of Geoffrey sitting in a chair and talking to people and looking uglier than he's ever looked. Nothing happens. Nine years for this.

I'm also struck by how meaningless all of this is to anyone who hasn't read Archie Sonic. The added context from M25YL may help a little, but "The Storm" focuses on characters who weren't in that arc, and the story does very little to introduce who any of them are. Brownie could've been super useful as an inexperienced point of view character who's only meeting the others for the first time here, but instead she's really just a passive observer who's here as part of some kind of 4D chess game between Geoffrey and Alicia, an off-screen character whose motivations in this era of the story are completely unknown to even returning readers. Who are the good guys and bad guys here? What are the conflicts and the stakes of the story moving forward? What do these characters want? Basic questions like this aren't really answered. I can't imagine a new reader being able to make heads or tails of this. Hell, I can't really imagine a returning reader who hasn't been following the last decade's worth of Ken's tweets about this story making heads or tails of it, either.

...Maybe more will happen in the next story?

New story #2: Shattered Tomorrows preview chapter

After another message from Ken, the story of The Lara-Su Chronicles proper begins with the redesigned Lara-Su walking along a jpeg photograph beach at sunset and crying while thinking about how Knuckles - sorry, his name is K'Nox now - is dead.

Yep! Straight into the dad stuff!

Look, I'm the last person to complain about writers getting super personal and drawing from their own baggage in their writing, but Ken's just no fucking good at it. There's no nuance, nothing interesting to say. He just keeps writing mediocre-to-horrible dads whose misdeeds are always justified by their "good intentions," and then sometimes they die and their kids are like "we may have fought but actually you were the bestest dad ever and I'll miss you forever, I'll never be able to fill your shoes!"

This is the only part of the new material here that feels like it has any heart behind it, because I know how much his complex relationship with his late deadbeat father means to Ken (there's an author's note in this outright saying as much). But the guy died 42 years ago, and it doesn't feel like Ken has had any new thoughts about this part of his life in those four decades. He's just not an introspective or self-aware enough artist to actually mine his personal baggage for anything beyond "father knows best."

Anyway, so then it jumps forward in time(?) and now we're following this human guy who looks like this.

Previously, Ken got a lot of shit for literally just using the likeness of Anthony Mackie for this guy, based on his IMDB profile photo. Ken has thus redesigned the character... and by that I mean I think he looks more like Ernie Hudson now? Ken's clearly just working off of photo references (if not straight up tracing), given his face is the most detailed and realistic-looking thing on any page where he's present.

But you may be wondering: who is this, and why is he here? Well, for one, he's here to run around in front of some low res space photos while making trite references to things like Planet of the Apes and Star Trek. Haha, he makes a joke about red shirts! Original!! But beyond that, Commander Mykhal Taelor (yes, that's really how he chose to spell it) is a human... from Earth! Archie Sonic readers are probably confused, because in those comics Mobius is Earth in the distant post-apocalyptic future. Well, despite being a Planet of the Apes fan, Ken always hated that particular worldbuilding decision from Karl Bollers, always preferring to think of Mobius as a separate alien planet. And now he gets to make that canon in his own stories and throw out Karl's ideas. So Mobius is basically just, like, a Star Trek planet now, with its own alien creatures that sometimes just so happen to look like anthropomorphic Earth animals.

Also, at one point Taelor wonders if the inhabitants of the dead Mobius might have been human, and the alien ally he's talking to over the radio says it's unlikely. "I don't understand why your kind has a problem understanding you're a minority within a minority." Perhaps poor wording for a line said to the only Black character in the story.

Anyway, Commander Taelor here seems to have discovered the uninhabited husk of Mobius after the vague time-space cataclysm everyone was worried about in M25YL has come to pass, and he finds an audio log from Lara-Su that I presume will explain what happened. I guess those are the titular Lara-Su Chronicles. In theory this flash forward establishes some sense of pressing danger, but when the threat to the planet is so unclear and technobabble-y it just kind of lands with a thud.

It doesn't take long before we get back to Lara-Su being sad about her dad. A good little chunk of the chapter is spent with this new timeline's Lara-Su recalling moments in her life, including echoes of the original Lara-Su's memories from M25YL, which feels redundant coming hot off the heels of a straight reprint of that entire arc. And boy, for anyone who read the later Archie Sonic comics, the protagonist having vague memories of the old version of the series from before a lawsuit-related timeline reboot sure does sound familiar, huh?

The art inconsistency somehow becomes even worse in this story, with Ken flip-flopping on whether or not he wants to use outlines, with the no-outline art managing to look even worse by relying entirely on Ken's awful rendering. By this point in the book, readers are also likely to start noticing how often Ken reuses art from previous panels. This is a shortcut that tons of comic artists use, of course. Invincible famously did a joke about this. It's often understandable. But, again... it sure does stand out in a book that took 13 years to make with only 30 pages of new art. Amusingly, Ken even manages to combine his inconsistency and recycling problems by reusing the same art with and without outlines. And, of course, any time Ken tries to draw the Archie era designs it's just... the worst.

And, yes, it's in this dreamlike montage sequence of Lara-Su's life that we get...

The uncomfortable family nudity scene, followed by the dual timeline Julie-Su breastfeeding scene.

Yeah, you might have heard about this one already. If this incredibly eerie presentation of Lara-Su's hazy memories of the two different timelines make it hard to tell what's going on, don't worry. There's another, clearer version later in the book as part of Julie-Su's character profile, because I guess Ken was just so proud of it.

(I censored these myself because I'm not playing Russian roulette with Tumblr's inconsistent nudity rules and risking getting banned lmao)

Like, okay. Is a mother breastfeeding her child really that shocking of a thing to see in a story? No, not at all. But, like... when it's two characters who you previously created for an officially licensed Sonic the Hedgehog comic for 7-year-olds... and some of those officially licensed Sonic the Hedgehog comics for 7-year-olds are reprinted in the same book... and when it's drawn like this... yeah, it's kind of a shocker.

It just looks so unnatural. Julie-Su is posed very deliberately so that you'll see both of her breasts, and in the new timeline version she's barely even holding Lara-Su so you can really get a good look at her supermodel body, showing zero physical signs that she just gave birth. Most people will immediately jump to this being Ken putting his fetishes in his work (a type of criticism that I'm incredibly tired of - it's 2024, all the cool artists are blatantly putting their fetishes in their work now). And my immediate response is that, no, this is probably just Ken trying to come off as really mature on a surface level, a thing he's been obsessed with since the Archie days. Free from the shackles of writing a licensed children's comic, of course he's going to jump immediately into depicting some nonsexual, artistic nudity to try and prove he's A Real Mature Artist For Grown-Ups who just thinks the human body is beautiful and breastfeeding shouldn't be a taboo etc. etc.

But then, like. You look at some of the other character designs. Like Espio's daughter Salma, who's now this horrifying alien lizard person who's always nude, and her scale pattern puts scales exactly where her nipples should be. Or you look at his comments about the Echyd'nya age of consent. Or you look at how he keeps drawing Lara-Su in this. Like, does the shuttle really need this, like... reverse chaise lounge thing in the cockpit? So that we can keep getting these shots of the 16-year-old Lara-Su lying on her stomach and posing with one of her legs kicked up, her naked ass in plain view?

The vibe isn't great, is what I'm saying!

I'm not going to try to ascribe authorial intent here. I don't know. I'm not a psychic. Given his very blatant reliance on photo references elsewhere in the book, it's entirely possible he just referenced some figure drawing photos that were maybe just a little too sexy. And also, he's an American comic book artist, and a boomer one at that. Those guys tend to draw women a certain way, even when it's not supposed to be sexual. I don't fucking know. It just sucks. I'm not gonna make some hyperbolic statement about how this makes him a literal pedophile who should be in jail, but it is deeply offputting and objectifying.

But if you already knew about the nursing scenes and were hoping there was some other really shocking stuff in there for me to talk about in this review, sorry to disappoint, but nope. That's the only shockingly weird new thing in here. Once again, not a lot happens in this story, and what does happen is pretty boring.

Once we get past the recap stuff and the human guy, the plot developments boil down to this: The timeline was altered at the end of M25YL... but not as much as you might think. In the new timeline, Knuckles ("K'Nox"), Cobar (now looking significantly younger), and Rotor (now a rhino just called "The Emissary") still traveled via shuttle to go find a time machine in the Badlands and fix the time-space continuum, like in the climax of the original arc. This time, though, Sonic wasn't there, and Lara-Su came along without having to stow away. Lara-Su watches the ship while the grown ups go deal with the time machine, and then after a couple panels Not Rotor comes back with Cobar and is like "Hey, Cobar got hurt, we gotta leave. Dunno what happened to your dad." And then they just, like. Presume that Knuckles must have died. Even though we have no idea what happened to him. And then they just fly away. And then Lara-Su is sad that her dad died.

And that's pretty much it!

This is supposed to be a really emotional sequence - it's literally the scene where Lara-Su learns that Knuckles is dead - but instead it comes off as unintentionally funny because of how poorly it's portrayed. Not showing Knuckles' actual disappearance is a huge misstep, for one, making his uncertain fate more confusing and anticlimactic than dramatic. But also, Ken keeps just using the same two drawings of Rotor for two pages, so he doesn't really seem to be emoting at all, and he's in this spacey hazmat suit that honestly just makes him look like fucking Moltar from Space Ghost. So the whole time I'm just reading his dialogue in Moltar's deadpan voice as he's like "I dunno. We did what we could. Anyway, let's leave."

After this, we get a two-page spread previewing the rest of the story from Shattered Tomorrows. It's basically like a trailer in comic form. It has one of the most mystifying layouts I've ever seen in a comic book. I have no idea what order I'm supposed to read this in.

Yeah, I kinda have a feeling this is the full extent of what Ken has drawn for the rest of that book. I'd love to be wrong, but I fear that I'm right.

Bonus material: Data files

These are mostly very dull, recapping a lot of events shared between Ken's Archie run and the new Lara-Su Chronicles timeline. It seems like almost his entire run is still considered canon to the backstory of the new timeline, just with some names changed, and things only really diverge at the climax of M25YL. But I'll share the interesting stuff here.

Lara-Su

The main thing you'll notice in Lara-Su's profile is the massive, unreadable wall of text where Ken felt the need to list the entire Knuckles family tree, split across both pages.

This is literally so long that Lara-Su's personal history has to awkwardly cut off mid-sentence and be continued on the final page of the book, after the rest of the data files.

Also, please note that this list gives Julie-Su's mom's full name as Mari-Su of the House of Atrades. Incredible on all levels.

There's also a reference to the dark timeline Lara-Su was originally supposed to come from. You know, the one where Julie-Su is the leader of a rebel movement fighting against a Knuckles who had gone mad with power? The timeline that would have been way more interesting than the one in M25YL? Here it seems to have been written off as the result of another "timeline disruption." Lara-Su allegedly has vague memories of this timeline, in the same way that she has vague memories of the M25YL timeline.

Geoffrey

Geoffrey's bio mostly recaps events from the Archie comics, which means the Sonic/Sally/Geoffrey love triangle has to be alluded to. His rivalry with Sonic is described like this:

"He would later resurface when Kintobor was transporting his latest hi-tech weapon, the Dynamac-3000. It was during that mission he discovered a rival for the Princess' affections. Whereas the Princess would be one of a line of conquests where St. John was concerned, the blue-spined Erinaceinae who protested doth a bit too much regarding his affections for the Princess for St. John's taste would prove to be a source of great sport and amusement."

Yes. It's gross. Saying that Geoffrey saw Sally as "one of a line of conquests" is gross. Ken writing this and then still treating Geoffrey as the coolest badass ever is gross. The "Princess Acorn" is also first on the list of Geoffrey's "female relationships" elsewhere in his bio, though I suppose how much of a "relationship" they had is left vague. Honestly, at this point the fact that Ken didn't explicitly confirm that Geoffrey took the underage Sally's virginity in the book comes off as a display of restraint. The bar couldn't be any lower, I know.

Remington

His bio is, frankly, shockingly long for such a minor character, though I guess he does get a large portion of the word salad dialogue in "The Storm." There's a lot of stuff here about how the identities of his biological parents are shrouded in mystery, a plot point that fans have long speculated Ken just straight up forgot about in his time at Archie. (Ian confirmed that Kragok from the Dark Legion was Remington's dad, though, so this isn't really much of a mystery.)

Lien-Da

She gets a bio even though she's not present in the two new stories, just so we get to look at her awful new design and compare it to how Steven Butler drew her earlier in the book:

Commander Taelor

We get to see two drawings of him with the same exact Ernie Hudson face side by side! That's fun.

Julie-Su

She gets a list of "known friends," but the only character listed is Knuckles' mom. Poor Julie-Su.

Also, Ken feels the need to reiterate that Knuckles and Julie-Su are still distant cousins. He made a whole new timeline where he can change whatever details he wants, but THAT had to remain canon. Thanks, Ken.

And then after the data files we get the special thanks page, listing everyone who preordered the book and/or bought TLSC merch from Ken.

With my name on the list. Because I had to buy a copy to cover it for the blog.

My name is on the very next page right after the breastfeeding panel in Julie-Su's data file.

Yep. He got me.

Is it at least a well put together book? Like, in terms of manufacturing quality?

Its physical quality is... fine. It's a nice, sturdy hardcover. The print quality seems fine, though mine does have a bit of smudging from some sort of printing error on one page. The pages don't seem like they'll fall out on me. The image quality is crisp. The colors are vibrant. This is a low bar, but this is one of the few places where I'm able to give this book anything resembling praise.

The formatting and graphic design work, on the other hand...

(I didn't crumple those page corners, it came like that.)

For one, the placement and sizes of the M25YL pages is inconsistent, largely due to the fact that the book doesn't actually match the proportions of a comic. A lot of pages aren't properly centered vertically. Some pages go all the way up to the top edge of the paper, while others leave a visible gap of about half a centimeter. Every page has a 1cm gap to its left and right, which is sometimes filled in with a solid color or gradient that doesn't quite match the page it's surrounding. I have to assume Ken didn't have any sort of source files or original artwork to work off of, as those ideally would've had more generous bleed to account for slight shifts in printing. It kind of seems like he just got the highest resolution versions he could find of the digital releases online and printed those. The colors are a dead ringer for the digital versions, which have always looked slightly more saturated and pastel than they did in print.

I can't say this bodes well for his further plans for Archie Sonic reprints - sorry, Mobian Line reprints. If they ever come out, please, for the love of god, do not buy those. I don't care how much you love Archie Sonic, they aren't going to be good reprints. For comparison, IDW's similarly priced hardcover Sonic collections have none of these formatting problems, because they're made by people who know what they're doing with access to the actual source files.

The book also has its fair share of text-focused pages, split between the data files and messages directly from Ken about the history of his career and this project, and these are formatted in the most amateurish way possible. Just massive walls of Arial text over either plain white backgrounds, simple gradients, or faded photos. I've seen school yearbooks with better graphic design. Even ignoring my subjective feelings about the art and stories within, this book does not feel like it's worth $36 USD.

It's frankly shocking how shabby he let this thing look considering it's supposed to be his baby. And doesn't that really sum it all up?

Closing thoughts

Obviously, I did not expect this to be any good. But I'm still left kind of dumbfounded by it.

I think what really strikes me about it is that Ken had a blank check to do whatever he wanted here. He got an opportunity many writers would kill for when he gained complete ownership of his most famous work. He's free from the limitations of a monthly licensed comic book for children, free to make whatever creative decisions he wants without editors or other writers or Sega to worry about, free to completely reinvent the series to his heart's content and finally tell the story of his dreams. And with that opportunity and 13 years of his time, he made... this. A direct continuation of "Mobius: 25 Years Later" that barely changes anything about the characters or world beyond their awful new designs, even though much of the word count is spent rambling about how the timeline has changed. A story that makes zero concessions for new readers, or even returning readers who don't already have the last decade's worth of Ken's tweets explaining his creative decisions burned into their memory. 30 pages where nothing really happens and the story barely moves forward an inch despite the decades-long wait - but maybe something will happen if you buy the next book!

Who is this for? Maybe this really is a project for no one but Ken. Maybe he just really, really wants to finish the story he started, a story that's personal to him due to the family history it evokes, and the number of people who enjoy it or buy it beyond that is irrelevant. I think that many of the best artists are incredibly self-indulgent ones working with that exact mindset, artists whose enthusiasm for their own work jumps off the page or screen. So, if that's the case, then why the fuck isn't he telling the damn story? What's stopping him? Why is he still spinning his wheels? Where is that passion for his own work? Because it sure as hell isn't there on the page. There's a huge part of me that really wishes I could say "Man, what a weirdo, but you do you, Ken. You tell your weird little story." But there's barely any story here. It's like he loves styling himself as a storyteller, but he's terrified of finally having to actually tell a story after all this time. He's still stuck in the exact same mode of writing he was in almost 30 years ago when he was doing 6-page backup stories about Knuckles, just killing time and stringing readers along until he's eventually able to truly realize his vision. If not now, then when, Ken?

Even the back cover blurb is mostly just a dry recap of the history of this thing. It was a Sonic comic, the original arc was published in these issues, it went unfinished, Ken left Archie, the lawsuits happened, now he's continuing the story. There's nothing about why anyone should give a shit about this as its own story, even though Ken has spent years trying in vain to convince people TLSC is its own beast that shouldn't be judged as a Sonic story. I think deep down he knows that there's no pitch for this beyond the novelty of it originating from Sonic. And that's why, despite declaring that he'd leave the site, he's still on Twitter riling up Sonic fans. It's the only attention he gets at this point.

Maybe this is too harsh when those 30 pages of new comics are just intended as a preview for the "real" book. But the elephant in the room is that we have no idea if that "real" book will ever actually come out, let alone the entire series of seven graphic novels that will supposedly complete this saga.

Ken is undeniably a complete jackass and all around unpleasant, vindictive person who's rightly become an industry pariah. He's a self-proclaimed paragon of progressive values who'll send Comicsgaters after his successors for the crime of not worshiping the ground he walks on, and then turn around and announce he's going to reprint their work without even consulting them. He's a sore winner who already won his copyright battle on a level most comic writers would never dare to dream of, and yet still won't truly be satisfied until he sees an entire major comic publisher go out of business, putting god knows how many people out of work, because he thinks this would get him back the license to a video game franchise he doesn't even like.

But I still have to pity him.

As an artist, the trajectory of his life is my nightmare. I think all of us fear dying before we can tell all the stories we want to tell. There's simply never enough time to do everything. And here's Ken in his 60s, talking about how he's still planning on making his magnum opus all by himself out of stubbornness and pride, despite demonstrably proving he can't handle the workload, and also talking about how if he dies before the project can be finished he'll have to pass the torch on to his kids and get them to finish it for him. It's so grim. Even just typing that sends a shiver down my spine. It took nine years of his limited time on Earth to finish and release an 11-page comic about Geoffrey St. John sitting backwards in a chair.

This is a purgatory of his own creation. And yet... I'm not sure he's ever been prouder. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

I guess if I want people to take anything away from this review, it's this:

Lesson one: If you're an artist or writer of some kind, or an aspiring creator, don't wait around. No one else is going to tell your story for you. Start writing that novel. Start drawing that webcomic. Start making that game. If Penders can put out this damn book that no one asked for after 13 years of work, then proudly proclaim that he's still going to make six or seven more books and also reprint hundreds of comics he doesn't have all of the rights to, then show up to cons with that foul Lara-Su Chronicles: Shattered Tomorrows banner and sit in front of it beaming with pride, fully aware of his critics but saying "fuck 'em, I know I'm hot shit," then you can do fucking anything. Tell the weird, sincere, cringe story of your dreams. If Ken Penders doesn't have imposter syndrome, then nobody should.

And lesson two: Don't buy Ken's books.

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[luckystay]

𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣

words count: 7k

Relationships: bsf!bangchan x fem!reader x bsf!hyunjin

Synopsis: after years of friendship, you're shocked to learn your best friends aren’t gay, and are in-fact attracted to you.

Warnings: smut with plot, mutual pining, threesome (mfm), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), heavy sexual tension, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, light manhandling, praise kink, mild jealousy, mentions of insecurity, alcohol consumption, and swearing.

(Minors, please do not interact!)

A/N: again did not proofread, also i'm having so many issues writing smut any advice can help.

Chan was the first person I spoke to on my first day at university. I still remember the way he approached me—this energetic, smiling guy who exuded confidence, a kind of confidence I couldn’t even imagine having.

At first, I thought maybe he was just being polite, trying to make the nervous girl feel more at ease. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that wasn’t the case. Chan wasn’t just friendly—he had this way about him that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. It wasn’t something he tried to do; it just came naturally. We clicked immediately, and by the end of our conversation, I found myself laughing at his jokes, sharing stories, and feeling a sense of comfort I hadn’t expected.

After that, I didn’t really have to make any more friends. Chan took care of it. He introduced me to his friends, and just like that, I found myself a part of a whole new group. Felix, with his sweet nature and infectious laugh, Jisung, who always seemed to know how to make me laugh no matter how exhausted I was, and then there was chan’s roommate Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was different. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated at first. He was... well, he was hot—too hot, actually. Tall, effortlessly cool, with an air of quiet intensity that seemed to draw people in. Honestly, I thought he was out of my league. Every time I tried to talk to him, I’d stumble over my words, my face flushing under his steady gaze. I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious whenever he was around, like his confidence only highlighted how awkward I felt.

But all that changed when I started spending more time with them. Chan, being my main friend, and Hyunjin, being his roommate, meant I was bound to be around him a lot.

To my surprise, I started to see a different side of Hyunjin. The intimidating vibe? It wasn’t really who he was. He had a sense of humor—quirky, odd even, but adorable. Once he felt comfortable around me, he let his guard down, and I found myself enjoying his company more and more. He wasn’t the aloof, untouchable guy I’d once thought he was. He was just Hyunjin—relatable, funny, and incredibly easy to talk to.

All throughout university their dorm room became my unofficial home. i’d spend hours there—study sessions that turned into late-night talks, long gaming marathons, and movie nights that always ended with one of us falling asleep in some awkward position on the couch.

We became this inseparable trio. We went through heartbreaks together, laughed over drunk nights, celebrated wins, and comforted each other through the lows

Slowly but surely, my feelings for Hyunjin evolved. He wasn’t some crush anymore—he was my best friend. Over time, I stopped thinking about him in that way entirely.

I knew both Hyunjin and Chan were hooking up with people now and then, but we had this unspoken rule in our friendship: unless it was serious, we didn’t talk about it. That part of our lives stayed private, and I was okay with that. It wasn’t something we needed to discuss, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.

Eventually, though, I settled on an assumption that made everything easier. The way Hyunjin and Chan were with each other, so effortlessly close and affectionate—it just made sense. They had to be gay, right? That explained the mystery, the privacy, everything. And honestly, it was fine with me. I wasn’t interested in either of them like that, and they didn’t seem interested in me. Our bond worked perfectly the way it was.

Or so I thought.

Now fresh out of uni, we found ourselves navigating adulthood together. Jobs, bills, responsibilities—it was a new world, but at least we had each other. Moving in together felt like a natural extension of our bond. Splitting rent made financial sense, but beyond that, we weren’t ready to let go of the dynamic we’d built.

The house wasn’t huge, but it had just enough space for the three of us to feel at home. It was chaotic at times, sure—Hyunjin’s half-finished art projects scattered across the living room, Chan’s endless work-from-home setup that seemed to expand every week, and my collection of books and mismatched mugs taking over the kitchen. But it worked. It always did with us.

living together now was... different. They weren’t just my friends anymore; they were men. And men like Chan and Hyunjin? They were impossible to ignore.

Physically, the changes were obvious. Chan’s broad shoulders and steady presence commanded a room effortlessly, while Hyunjin’s sharp jawline and lean, athletic build seemed designed to draw attention. They moved with purpose now, their every gesture confident and deliberate. But it wasn’t just how they looked—it was how they treated me.

In university, we were a chaotic trio, all equals in the chaos of growing up. But now? Now, they treated me like I was something precious.

Chan, always the dependable one, had become a protector in ways that felt heavier, more deliberate. He’d steady me with a hand on my lower back when we crossed busy streets, or hold open doors without a second thought. When we walked home late at night, he’d position himself closest to the curb, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure I was okay.

Hyunjin, for all his teasing, had a subtle gentleness that made my breath hitch. He’d help me carry groceries without being asked, his hand brushing against mine as he took the heavier bags. When I complained about how sore my shoulders were after work, he didn’t hesitate—just walked up behind me, warm hands massaging out the tension.

their touches were what really undid me.

It wasn’t like before, when their hands would land on my shoulder or ruffle my hair in passing. Now, every touch lingered. Chan’s hand on my waist as he guided me through a crowded room felt possessive in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Hyunjin’s fingers brushing a stray hair out of my face felt more intimate than it should have been.

And it wasn’t just the touches—it was how easily they did it, how natural it seemed for them to manhandle me in small ways. Chan would reach over me without warning, his chest brushing my back as he grabbed something off the top shelf. Hyunjin would wrap an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer on the couch as he teased me about some show we were watching.

It was maddening. I’d tell myself it didn’t mean anything, that we were just friends. But the truth was; having two ridiculously attractive men treating me like this? Protecting me, touching me, looking at me the way they did? It was impossible to ignore the heat that simmered beneath the surface.

And the worst part? They didn’t even seem to notice what they were doing to me. To them, it was all so casual, so natural. But to me, it was intoxicating. Every brush of their hands, every low chuckle, every whispered “you okay?” left me more confused and yearning than ever.

Tonight, I’d slipped into a cream-colored sweater, paired with a black mini skirt that showed off a teasing amount of leg. It wasn’t like I’d dressed up for any particular reason; Felix and Jisung were coming over for dinner, and I wanted to look nice. Simple as that.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

The kitchen was filled with the rich scent of garlic, onions, and herbs. hyunjin stirring something on the stove. His broad shoulders filled out the fitted black shirt he was wearing, and the veins in his forearms flexed as he moved the spoon in lazy circles. When I entered, the sound of my footsteps seemed to grab his attention. His eyes flicked up, scanning me from head to toe before settling on my face. It was quick, but it wasn’t subtle. There was no hiding the way his gaze dropped, the look lingering just a moment too long on my legs before lifting back up. His lips curled into a smirk, just a little, and I felt my heart race.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too casual.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as I shrugged. “It’s just dinner.”

I crossed the space between us, standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His broad frame cast a shadow over me, and I instinctively tilted my head back to look up at him. He was taller than I remembered—taller, broader. The way his body seemed to fill the space made it hard to breathe for a moment.

“Thought I’d see if you needed help,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice was a little shakier than I wanted. I knew I had no idea how to cook, but standing this close to him made my mind scramble for anything to say.

“Help?” he repeated, his smirk deepening, his voice almost teasing. “You don’t even know where we keep the knives.”

“Not the point,” I shot back, hoping my words sounded more confident than I felt. My hands were already a little clammy, and my stomach twisted in knots.

Before I could say anything else, I felt a warmth at my back, and the unmistakable presence of Chan, who had entered quietly. His hand brushed lightly against the small of my back, his fingers just barely grazing my skin, and I froze.

Chan was  wearing his usual jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clung to his chest in ways that made it hard to look away.

“Stealing her already?” Chan’s voice was light, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something I couldn’t quite place. His fingers lingered for a second longer, just enough to make me painfully aware of how close he was. I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

“Wasn’t stealing,” Hyunjin responded, still holding my gaze, his voice casual but there was that underlying heat again, like he knew exactly what was going on. “She just knows I’m the best cook.”

I shifted slightly, crossing my legs without thinking, trying to hide the sudden flutter of heat I felt coursing through me. Chan’s hand didn’t leave my back, his touch light but somehow heavy all at once. I tried to focus on the conversation, on the joke they were making, but it felt almost impossible. The tension in the room was thick, and it felt like both of them were acutely aware of how close we were, of the way my body responded to them.

“Don’t steal her for yourself just yet,” Chan teased, a playful glint in his eyes. “We still need her to taste-test.”

I managed to force out a laugh, but it felt weak compared to the way my body was reacting to their proximity. The casual banter, the touches, the way their eyes lingered—everything felt too intimate. It was as if the friendship we’d built over the years was beginning to blur, and I didn’t know how to pull away from it.

This is not how friends should feel towards each other right?

Dinner was lively, filled with laughter and chatter as always, you were seated between Hyunjin and Felix, with Chan directly across from you, you couldn’t escape the charged atmosphere no matter how hard you tried.

The first real jolt came when you reached across the table for the salt shaker. It had been sitting just out of reach, and without thinking, you leaned forward to grab it. Before you could touch it, two hands moved toward it simultaneously—Chan’s from across the table, and Hyunjin’s from beside you.

Hyunjin’s arm brushed your shoulder as he leaned over, the scent of his cologne filling the space between you. He reached it first, but the motion brought him close—too close. You were painfully aware of the way his body crowded yours, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the table for a moment.

“Got it,” Hyunjin said softly, his voice carrying an almost teasing edge as he passed the shaker to you. His fingers lingered just a second too long against yours, and when you looked up, you were met with his dark, unreadable gaze.

Chan cleared his throat, drawing your attention. You glanced across the table to see him watching the exchange with an expression that was... difficult to place. There was no annoyance there, just something thoughtful, like he was curious.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, quickly adjusting in your seat and trying to shake the warmth creeping up your neck.

As the meal continued, the little moments piled on. Hyunjin’s knee brushing yours under the table, his hand casually resting on the back of your chair when he leaned over to speak to Felix. Chan’s gaze, heavy and unwavering, each time you glanced up from your plate. Even Felix, with his sweet, innocent charm, seemed to sense the tension in the air, his eyes darting between the three of you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Finally, Felix leaned in closer, nudging your shoulder gently. “Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Do you still have that cream? The one for sore muscles? My neck’s been killing me.”

The request caught you off guard, but you nodded quickly, grateful for an excuse to escape. “Yeah, I think it’s in my room. Come on, I’ll grab it for you.”

You pushed your chair back, standing up and smoothing your skirt. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the way Chan’s gaze followed you, lingering just a beat too long. Hyunjin’s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to read something in your movements.

The moment you stepped into your room and closed the door, Felix turned to you with an expression you didn’t entirely expect. His usual warm smile was replaced with something sharper, something knowing.

“Alright,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Spill.”

You frowned, genuinely confused. “Spill what?”

Felix arched a brow, his lips quirking into a slight smirk. “Don’t play dumb. What’s going on with you three?”

Your stomach flipped, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “Nothing’s going on. What are you even talking about?”

Felix’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by a look of gentle concern. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” you asked, pulling open a drawer to search for the cream.

Felix sighed, stepping closer. “The way they look at you. The way they act around you. It’s like... it’s so obvious. I don’t know how you’re so clueless.”

You froze, your hand hovering over the drawer’s contents. “Felix, they’re… you know. They’re gay.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Felix let out a low, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, stepping closer. “you’re so far off.”

Your brow furrowed as you turned to face him fully. “What do you mean? They’re gay. I’ve known them for years, Lix. They’ve never once mentioned being into girls. Not once. And the way they are with each other…” You trailed off, your voice losing conviction under Felix’s knowing stare.

“They’re not gay,” Felix said gently, his tone almost pitying. “Bisexual? Yeah, sure. But gay? Not even close.”

The words felt like they didn’t compute, like Felix had just told you the sky was green. “No way,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not,” Felix said, his voice soft but firm. “Look, I’ve known them longer than you have. And trust me, if you paid even a little attention, you’d notice the way they look at you.”

“What are you even talking about?” you asked, your chest tightening. “They don’t look at me any differently than they look at anyone else.”

Felix’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? They’re constantly looking at you like you hung the moon. Hyunjin can’t go two seconds without finding some excuse to touch you, and Chan? The way he watches you when you’re not looking? It’s... intense.”

You felt heat rush to your face, your heart racing as you tried to process what he was saying. “That’s just how they are. They’re affectionate guys. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Felix tilted his head, giving you a look that was both skeptical and amused. “Affectionate, sure. But this? This is different you cant convince me otherwise. I’m not saying they’re in love with you or anything—” he paused, reconsidering. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you had to sit down on the edge of your bed. “Felix, this is insane. They’ve never said anything. Never even hinted at anything.”

Felix sighed and crouched down in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees. “They’re careful, okay? They don’t want to scare you off. But as someone who’s been watching this dynamic for years, I’m telling you—you’re not seeing the whole picture.”

You stared at him, your thoughts spinning. The years of friendship, the countless nights spent together, the laughter, the teasing touches, the moments you’d brushed off as nothing more than camaraderie. Could he be right? Had you really been that oblivious?

Felix straightened up, offering you a small, encouraging smile. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But maybe... don’t dismiss it so quickly. Pay attention. You might be surprised.”

After the guys left, I had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours, Felix’s words looping endlessly in my head. They’re not gay. His voice echoed with conviction, and I felt ridiculous for letting it get to me. But I couldn’t stop replaying every touch, every look, every little thing that now felt heavier with meaning.

A soft knock on my door made me jump.

“Hey,” Chan’s voice came through, quiet but warm. “We’re hanging out in the living room. You coming?”

I hesitated before swinging my legs off the bed. “Yeah, give me a sec.”

When I padded into the living room, both of them looked up, Chan holding a beer, Hyunjin sprawled out on the couch, his sweatpants riding low on his hips. He’d swapped his shirt for a tank top, and the sharp lines of his collarbone and shoulders caught my attention for a second too long.

“Finally decided to join us, huh?” Chan teased, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

I sank down between them, their bodies close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off them.

“Sorry, I wasn’t much help earlier,” I murmured, picking at the hem of my sweater.

Hyunjin waved it off, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Don’t worry about it. But... you okay? You seemed distracted.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, glancing between them. The weight of their gazes felt different tonight—intense and questioning, like they were trying to read me.

Chan leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind me, his fingertips brushing my shoulder as his thumb started absentmindedly tracing small circles against my sweater.

“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Hyunjin added, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hair, still slightly damp from a shower, fell into his eyes as he tilted his head to look at me.

My cheeks burned. “I guess I’m just tired.”

“Tired, huh?” Chan’s voice was teasing, but his hand dropped lower, grazing my upper arm now. “Or did Felix say something?”

I froze, my pulse quickening. “Why would you think that?”

Hyunjin sat back, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “You tell us. He had you alone for a while, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t say anything,” I rushed out, but my voice betrayed me, shaky and uncertain.

Chan’s hand stilled against my arm, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. “Liar,” he said softly, but there was no malice in his tone—only curiosity.

Hyunjin leaned closer, his knee brushing against mine. “If something’s on your mind, you can tell us, you know.” His voice was low, smooth, and impossibly distracting.

I could feel the tension thickening in the room, their presence overwhelming. Chan’s touch lingered, Hyunjin’s closeness making it hard to think straight. They weren’t pushing, not exactly, but the way they looked at me—like they knew I was holding something back—made it impossible to escape the weight of Felix’s words.

They’re not gay. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, one I prayed they couldn’t see.

“I think…” I started, my voice quieter than I intended, “I think you two are… not what I thought you were.”

Hyunjin leaned in a little, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as it bore into me. “What do you mean?” His voice was still low, that calm authority I’d come to recognize from him.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet their eyes. My chest tightened, heart pounding in my ears. “I thought… I thought you guys were just… you know, gay.” The words rushed out before I could stop them, leaving me exposed.

The silence between us stretched, thick and heavy, suffocating. Chan’s gaze flickered to Hyunjin for just a moment, his expression unreadable, before it landed back on me. He spoke, his voice low but steady. “Is that really what you think?” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was searching for something.

“Yeah,” I blurted out, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “I’ve seen the way you two act around each other, and… I figured I, or any girl, must’ve been the last thing on your mind.”

Hyunjin’s eyes softened, the intensity of his usual gaze replaced by something else. He glanced at Chan again, who responded with a slight twitch of his lips—barely noticeable, but enough to make me feel like I’d just said something monumental.

“That’s what Felix told you, huh?” Hyunjin’s voice was calm, like he was probing for more. “What else did he say?”

I felt my voice tremble as I tried to process what was happening. “He said… you weren’t gay. And that… you were both into me”

The room was quiet for a moment, thick with anticipation. Hyunjin’s lips parted, and this time, he did speak. His voice was low, smooth, and tantalizingly close as he leaned in just enough for me to feel his breath ghosting across my skin, I had to let out a sharp exhale.

“Felix was right,” he said, his words slow, almost deliberate. “But I think he missed a few details.”

Chan didn’t move, his hand still resting on my arm. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a brief moment before meeting my eyes again, that made my breath catch.

“You’re not wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and deliberate. “But maybe you’re looking at us the wrong way.”

Before I could respond, Hyunjin’s hand brushed against my thigh, light but deliberate, sending a jolt of heat through me. “You think we don’t notice how you look at us?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, almost a whisper. “How you press your pretty thighs together every time we get close?”

I couldn’t speak. The silence between us was thick with tension, the heat from their bodies so close to mine almost suffocating, but I couldn’t pull away. Not when their eyes were on me like that, not when their words were making everything inside me ache with anticipation.

Chan smiled, but it was different this time. There was no teasing, no joking. It was raw, and real, and it made my heart race even faster. “You thought we didn’t notice, didn’t you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “But we’ve just been waiting for you to say something.”

 The silence stretched, heavy and electric. My breath caught in my throat as Chan's gaze dropped to my lips, his fingers still brushing against my cheek. I didn’t move, couldn’t move, pinned by the sheer intensity of his eyes.

“Can I?” Chan asked softly, his voice rougher now.

I nodded, barely able to form a coherent thought.

And then his lips were on mine—warm, soft, and so much gentler than I expected. The kiss sent a jolt through my entire body. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his touch firm but careful, as if testing the boundaries.

Before I could even process the sensation, I felt Hyunjin move. His hand left my thigh, but only so he could tilt my face toward him, his fingers light under my chin. My lips barely parted from Chan’s when Hyunjin leaned in, claiming my mouth with a kiss that was deeper, more urgent, but just as intoxicating.

My heart pounded against my ribcage, every nerve ending on fire. They moved with practiced ease, like this was something they’d thought about—planned, even. Chan’s hand stayed at the nape of my neck while Hyunjin’s fingers traced the curve of my jaw, grounding me in the surreal, overwhelming moment.

When they finally pulled back, I was left breathless, caught between them, my head spinning.

“You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for this,” Chan murmured, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting lightly against mine.

Hyunjin smirked, his thumb grazing the corner of my lips. “And we’re just getting started.”

The tension in the room was heavy, and then suddenly, it snapped. Hyunjin stood abruptly, his dark eyes flashing with something unreadable. Without a word, he walked out, heading toward his room.

Chan lingered for a moment, his gaze flicking back to me as I sat there, frozen and flustered. His lips twitched into the faintest smirk, the kind that made my stomach flip.

“feel free to join,” he said simply, his voice low and smooth, before turning to follow Hyunjin.

My breath hitched, my heart racing as I sat there for what felt like an eternity, debating whether or not to move. The warmth of their touches, their words, lingered on my skin, pulling me out of my daze.

I stood on shaky legs, hesitating for only a second before following them down the dimly lit hallway. The air felt charged with anticipation, every step amplifying the pounding in my chest.

When I reached Hyunjin’s room, the door was ajar, and the sight that greeted me knocked the air out of my lungs. Hyunjin was already sprawled on his bed, shirtless, the soft light casting shadows over the sharp lines of his chest and arms. His gaze was fixed on me, intense and unwavering, his dark hair falling messily across his forehead.

Chan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re not going to stand there all night, are you?” he teased, his voice a mixture of warmth and challenge.

I swallowed hard, stepping inside, my movements hesitant but drawn by a force I couldn’t fight.

Hyunjin shifted, patting the space beside him on the bed, his lips curving into a lazy grin. “Come here,” he said, his voice soft but commanding, and I felt my legs move before I could think.

Chan shut the door behind me, the soft click echoing in the quiet room as he joined us.

As I crossed the room, my steps unsteady, Hyunjin’s gaze never left mine. When I reached the bed, his hand stretched out, fingers brushing lightly against mine before he tugged me closer.

“Sit,” he murmured, his voice deep and low, and I obeyed, settling on the edge of the bed. The warmth of his skin seemed to radiate toward me, and the proximity made my heart pound harder.

Chan moved to stand nearby, his presence commanding as always. His shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin that distracted me for just a moment too long. He noticed, of course, because Chan noticed everything, and the small smirk tugging at his lips told me he wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Hyunjin,” Chan said casually, his tone laced with amusement, “I think you’re making her nervous.”

Hyunjin’s hand trailed deliberately under the hem of my skirt, the warm press of his fingertips against my thigh making my breath hitch. His touch wasn’t rushed; it was languid, teasing.

“Am I?” he murmured, his voice low and muffled as he buried his face into the curve of my neck. The warmth of his breath and the slight scrape of his nose against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch despite the overwhelming heat flooding my chest.

“Hyunjin,” Chan said again, though this time there was a warning in his tone, his amusement still evident. He stepped closer, standing beside the bed where I sat perched on the edge, barely holding myself together.

Hyunjin only chuckled against my neck, his lips grazing my skin briefly as his fingers traced small circles against my inner thigh. “What? She doesn’t seem to mind.” His voice was pure velvet, laced with mischief.

my eyes darted to Chan, his steady gaze locking with mine. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at me, something that made my stomach tighten. Without a word, he reached out, tilting my chin so I was forced to hold his gaze.

“Is that true?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against my jaw. “You don’t mind?”

“I…” My words faltered, a soft moan slipping out before I could stop it. Hyunjin’s lips had found the sensitive spot just below my ear, his teeth grazing the delicate skin in a way that sent a jolt of heat straight through me. The combination of his warm breath and the light nip made my head tilt involuntarily, giving him more access.

“Hmm,” Hyunjin hummed against my neck, the vibration of his voice making my breath hitch.

Chan’s hand on my face tightened slightly, drawing my attention back to him. His dark eyes searched mine, his thumb brushing over my cheek as if to steady me—or maybe to steady himself. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, and I obeyed, despite the chaos Hyunjin was causing on my neck.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I shook my head, though the flutter in my chest betrayed the truth.

Chan stepped closer, towering over me as he leaned down, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “use your words princess,” he said softly, his voice dropping an octave.

Uncomfortable? That was the last thing I felt.

“You’re not,” I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible, and Hyunjin’s fingers squeezed my thigh just slightly in response.

Chan chuckled, the sound low and rich as he took a seat beside me. Now I was between them, their warmth encasing me, their attention so focused that it felt like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“You’re shaking,” Hyunjin observed, his tone softer now, a stark contrast to the heat in his eyes.

“I’m not—” I started, but the slight quiver in my voice betrayed me again.

Chan leaned in closer, his hand joining Hyunjin’s on my other thigh. “really?,” he said gently, his touch steadying me even as it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.

Hyunjin captured my lips in his with a fervor that made my breath hitch, his hand tightening on my waist as he pulled me flush against him. The kiss was hungry, every movement sending sparks through my body as his fingers trailed along my side.

Before I could process it, Chan was there too, his hand sliding up to cup my jaw as his lips found the curve of my neck. He moved slowly, deliberately, his breath hot against my skin as he kissed a path to my collarbone.

Hyunjin’s hands roamed, one gripping my thigh while the other cradled the back of my neck, angling my head so he could deepen the kiss. Chan’s hand brushed over Hyunjin’s on my leg, their touches overlapping, leaving me trembling under their attention.

“Perfect,” Chan murmured against my neck, his voice low and full of approval as he pulled back just enough to look at me. “You’re perfect.”

Hyunjin’s lips left mine, his dark eyes meeting Chan’s for a brief, heated exchange before he leaned in close; his teeth grazed the shell of my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

Chan’s lips were on mine then, softer but no less intense, his hand slipping beneath my sweater to rest on my breasts, his thumb brushing my nipples. Every touch, every kiss, felt like I was being unraveled piece by piece, leaving me entirely at their mercy.

Hyunjin’s hand slid further up my thigh, his fingers toying with the hem of my underwear as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he teased, his voice low and teasing. “Not like you at all.”

Chan chuckled softly against my lips, his hands steady as he lifted me effortlessly, setting me down in the middle of Hyunjin’s bed. The new position had my skirt riding up higher, and I could feel the intensity of their gazes as they both stood looking at me.

Hyunjin knelt in front of me, his hands spreading over my legs as he pushed them apart slightly, his gaze flicking to Chan before meeting mine. “You’re still holding back,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the inside of my thigh, the gentleness of it making me shiver.

Chan moved behind me, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me back against him. His lips found my neck again, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my skin.

The heat between us was almost unbearable. Hyunjin’s fingers finally pushed aside my underwear and started stroking where I wanted him the most, and I let out a soft gasp as his lips followed.

Chan’s grip on my waist tightened, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Let go. Let us take care of you.”

My hands found their way into Hyunjin’s hair, tugging slightly as his mouth worked magic on me. The sound of his quiet chuckle against my skin sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I felt Chan’s lips curve into a smile against my shoulder; as he pushed hyunjin’s hand off my clit and replaced it with his own.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—the way their touches overlapped, how their breaths mingled with mine, left me utterly undone. Hyunjin glanced up, his dark eyes meeting mine, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

“Look at you,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice dripping with heat.

Chan’s free hand slid under my shirt, his fingers picking at my nipples. “She’s sensitive,” Chan murmured, almost to himself, his voice carrying a note of awe that made my heart race even faster.

My head tipped back against Chan’s shoulder, a soft moan escaping my lips as Hyunjin’s tongue and chan’s fingers were making me see heaven.

Chan’s lips pressed against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue, leaving a burning trail of sensation in his wake.

My body arched, every nerve igniting as waves of pleasure coursed through me, sharp and all-consuming. My nails dug into Hyunjin’s scalp, and his name left my lips in a breathless cry. His grip on my hips tightened, grounding me in the overwhelming sensation as his dark eyes bore into mine, filled with pride and hunger.

“That’s it,” chan murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “cum for us princess.”

 And I did, my breath came in soft gasps, my body still trembling as the rush of pleasure faded into a warm hum.

Chan’s hand slid up to my cheek, turning my face toward him. His eyes were heavy-lidded but soft, his thumb brushing my jaw as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this.” He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, his lips exploring mine as though he had all the time in the world.

Hyunjin pulled back finally, licking his lips like a hungry man. “Don’t think we’re done,” he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. His dark eyes roamed over me, taking in the sight of me flushed and breathless. “this was just the begining.”

“lie down, baby” chan demands, as he moved from behind me.

As I did, the guys started taking off their clothes urgently. And I couldn’t help but stare; they were gorgeous and they knew it.

Chan immediately layed on top of me, trapping me between his arms, his body hovering over me, and I realised just how big he actually was, from the corner of my eye I saw hyunjin get next to me in bed his grin was sharp, his fingers brushing over my calf with deliberate slowness as he settled beside me. “You’re in for it now,” he teased, his voice dripping with heat.

Chan didn’t waste a second. His lips were on mine, his cock pressing down on me, heavy and unyielding, I needed him so bad. His kiss was hungry, claiming, and I couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped my lips as he deepened it.

Beside me, Hyunjin’s hand roamed my body, his touch electrifying against my skin. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my neck. “You sound so sweet,” he muttered, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear.

Chan pulled back slightly, just enough for me to catch my breath before he entered me without a warning, as I let out a gasp. I felt utterly full of him.

Hyunjin’s mouth followed a slow, teasing path down my neck, his fingers now splayed possessively against my tits. His tongue darted out, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, and I couldn’t stop the arch of my back as the tension built between us.

Chan’s thrusts, were precise and passionate. “You drive us insane, you know that?” he growled against my lips before capturing them again.

Hyunjin chuckled low. “oh she knows exactly what she’s doing,” he murmured, his voice like silk, his touch anything but gentle as he made his intentions clear.

They weren’t taking their time anymore—they were claiming me, and I was powerless to resist.

each thrust was sending waves of pleasure through me, making my thoughts scatter. Chan’s breath was hot against my lips as he muttered, “You feel better than I ever imagined.”

Hyunjin’s hands were everywhere, his fingers tracing fire over my skin. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “You like this, don’t you? Both of us making you our own?” His voice was low, teasing, and it only heightened the ache pooling in my core.

I couldn’t respond, my voice caught in my throat as Chan’s pace quickened, his grip on my thighs firm and possessive. Hyunjin smirked at my lack of words, his hand cupping my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “we spent years thinking about fucking you like this, you’re ours now” he murmured before his lips captured mine in a kiss that was just as consuming as Chan’s touch.

The build was maddening, chan’s relentless rhythm pushing was me to the edge. My hands gripped his shoulders tightly, my nails digging into his skin as I felt the tension coil tighter and tighter in my core. “Chan,” I gasped, his name spilling from my lips like a plea, my body trembling beneath him.

“Let go, baby,” he murmured against my ear, his voice rough with need. “I’ve got you.”

The release hit me like a tidal wave, my body arching as pleasure flooded every nerve. My cries filled the room, and Chan followed soon after, a guttural groan escaping him as his own climax overtook him. He pressed his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling, his weight grounding me as I came down from the high.

Before I could fully catch my breath, I felt Hyunjin’s hand slide up my leg, his touch firm yet tantalizing. “Don’t think I’m letting you off that easily,” he said with a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. He was on me in an instant, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss that reignited the fire in my veins.

“Turn over,” he commanded softly, his voice holding an edge of authority that made me shiver. Chan shifted, moving to the side to make space as Hyunjin positioned himself behind me, his hands gripping my hips. The anticipation was electric, and when he finally pushed into me, it was slow and deliberate, drawing out a moan that left no question about how much I wanted this.

“You’re stunning like this,” Hyunjin rasped, his movements starting to quicken, each one sending fresh sparks through my body. “I’ve been dying to have you like this.”

Chan, still close, leaned down to kiss me, his hand brushing the hair from my face as Hyunjin took control. I’m drooling at this point, and my legs were shaking due to the overstimulation.

the room was filled with my moans and hyunjin’s grunts, who was trying his best to last as long as possible.

“You’re so tight, baby” he groaned, the pressure on his cock making him go completely insane.

Eventually, he gave up, letting himself cum at the same time as me.

"Fuck," he breathed out, pulling out of me. He layed between me and chan.

"You did well, love," hyunjin whispered, making me smile despite how tired I was.

[blackberry-sage-tea]

"The Dalish gifted an Eluvian to the Grey Wardens so we can get in Weisshaupt" is just so emblematic of my problems with the game, because you can tell--it feels to me--that the thought process was "We need to have an Eluvian in Weisshaupt, Eluvians are an Elven(TM) thing, the Dalish are the Elven(TM) faction, so let's just say they were the ones who gave one to the Grey Wardens".

The Dalish have been established over all three games as a people who have spent the last thousands of years desperately scrounging for whatever scraps of their culture they can find, a struggle that has cost them dearly as typified by Merrill's plight trying to restore a single Eluvian which had previously Blighted two of her clan mates (an Eluvian that she can't open or use, and doesn't actually know what it's for by the end of her quest line). Multiple Dalish in Inquisition are killed trying to regain their history ("The Knight's Tomb") or trying to prove themselves by regaining even a talisman related to their culture ("Someone to Lose"). They are an insular and guarded people because outsider interactions frequently invoke a heavy toll in Dalish lives, up to and including entire clans. And yet, we are supposed to believe in a single throwaway piece of dialogue that in the 10 years between Inquisition and Veilguard, the Dalish have (offscreen) gained enough access to Eluvians as a piece of technology that they can afford to just "gift" one to the Grey Wardens without explanation.

There are constant revelations of this kind where pre-established parts of the lore are just thrown out the window. Things that had great emotional weight or impact in previous installments of the series are used for cheap thrills or plot-hole fills without explanation, justification, or even gravitas from the game. You have a moment in one of Emmrich's quests where you stumble through a portal directly into the Fade that Hezenkoss opened in Blackthorne manor, and you're tasked with closing it again. All of this is done entirely without the Anchor or even an implied blood sacrificial ritual, and it is never commented as anything particularly groundbreaking (when going into the Fade physically through tearing a hole in it was a Big Fucking Deal in Inquisition). You encounter a Compassion spirit in a side quest investigating the deaths of citizens in Tevinter who were murdered by a demon of Despair, and it is strong enough to not only retain itself through sensing the (unanswered!) suffering that these people experienced, but it also resolves to protect others to keep them from the same fate (when Cole was so traumatized by a single person's death that he completely reshaped his entire being around them). So on and so forth. Don't even get me started on Bellara's comment that the ancient elves "made most of their buildings in the Fade".

I'm not asking for someone to hold my hand and spoonfeed me information. I frankly don't care if an obscure codex entry, a reddit AMA question, bluesky tweet, or headcanon exists somewhere to patch in or bandaid over all of the jarring details like this, because it doesn't change the fact that the game itself should be doing this. The game itself should be taking the time to explain this in a way that is not missable, the game itself should be taking these things seriously, it should recognize when it is doing contradictory things and rush to justify itself accordingly, because these are things the emotional beats of previous stories hinged on. Like, when the game has Taash say a line like "The Qun isn't a prison, you can leave if you want", it's the responsibility of the writers to show that this is Taash being misinformed, not because I'm too stupid to headcanon that this is the case, but because this line is a symptom of how the entire game's writing seems to have forgotten about the Ben-Hassrath as a thing that exists in this setting.

Previous Dragon Age games are no stranger to "We quietly removed Solas' network of agents and spies offscreen"-style writing, but it usually didn't feel like a constant deluge periodically uprooting my emotional investment and immersion. There's only so much I can take in good faith before I realize that this game was just not written with any care towards ensuring that the worldbuilding made sense and felt right to the player, leading to awkward backpedaling in reddit threads like "no the Crows haven't changed as an organization, these are just the unique Good Crows and we forgot to mention it".

I just can't look past this shit anymore.

[totalswag]

hey i love your work so much and if it’s not to much go ask i was wondering if you could do a fic where fem!reader is part of the cast on obx and she is really close friends with drew where they are flirting and what not and everyone ships them and they are at an interview with the rest of the cast and that gets brought up? sorry if that doesn’t make sense! if you don’t have time it’s completely

behind the scenes ⎯ RAFE CAMERON

authors note thank you so much lovie!! i'm open to take requests and write them. i've thought of this concept before and all i gotta say is thank you for requesting this because I NEED THIS!! super sorry for not posting for a small while, there were stuff i needed to take care of first.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.

summary having a close relationship with drew that send hints to fans they like each other based on the way they flirt with each other.

warning(s) flirting, shipping, co-stars secretly like each other?

Being apart of the Outer Banks cast has been such a blessing. You've created relationships with people you consider family now and who you can count on no matter what the circumstances are. Being on set for weeks on end filming scenes and making memories is what you look forward to most.

You grew closer with Drew Starkey because your characters are dating in the show and always next together on set too. Drew has become someone that you consider very important in your life.

You joined the Outer Banks cast during the second season. Drew appeared in a couple appearances near the end of the season, implying that he is interested in someone— love interest. You recall fans going nuts trying to figure out if this will continue. Fast forward two seasons, and your characters are together.

After a long day of filming, the cast decided to gather for dinner at a local beachside restaurant. The atmosphere was vibrant, with laughter and the sound of waves breaking on the shore. You and Drew were seated next to each other, much to the joy of your cast members, who were closely watching your interaction with Drew.

"Drew, look at the camera," you softly sang, your phone in your hand on the table, Drew in the frame of the video— he was speaking to Rudy across the table. He gives you a look that shows he knows you are heard before looking down at your phone and waving.

"Oh! "Hello there," he smiles even more when he sees himself on the screen—you giggle at the end of the video before sharing it to your Instagram story. 

"You posted it on your story?" he inquires, his body language focused solely on you. "I obviously had to; it was cute," you said as you placed your phone on the table next to your wallet. You suddenly felt nervous in front of Drew.

He raises his eyebrows in satisfaction. "Cute, huh?" He smirks and smiles, patting your thigh.

Fans began to ship you and Drew together as your relationship grew. The chemistry between you two is clearly obvious on and off screen, which is why you perform scenarios so well. Fans go berserk every time you post something on social media about Drew.

You two flirt without even realizing it at times. You will compliment each other as if you were a relationship, but this is nothing out of the norm for you two. Even your cast members have boarded the train and made a few comments about when you'll finish up together. 

You can't lie, he's an attractive young man. There's no doubt about that.

Few hours after you posted on your story, fans have been discussing the video you shared in which Drew looks at you as if you are the most beautiful person on the planet and no one else is present.

Today, you and the cast will be doing interviews all day to promote Season four. For the first portion, everyone will sit in the same room as the interviewer, but thereafter everyone will be separated.

"Alright, everyone," said the interviewer, "we've got some fun questions from fans today, and they're dying to know more about the dynamic between some of our favorite cast members."

Everyone said "Oooo," anxious to see what else the interviewer would say.

"Let's start with a fan favorite," the interviewer added, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "There's been a lot of talk about the chemistry between you two." She pointed to Drew and you. "Care to share any insights on that?"

Your stomach dropped.

The question hung in the air, drawing a chorus of “Oohs” and playful nudges from the cast. You felt your cheeks heat up as you exchanged a glance with Drew. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, a smirk playing on his lips

"Well," Drew said, leaning in slightly. "Y/N and I have always been close. We simply clicked, you know?"

"Really?" the interviewer asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Because the way you two flirt on and off set is pretty convincing."

You laughed and shook your head. "We simply have fun with it. Drew is a terrific person, and we like joking around. "It keeps things moving on set."

"From our first reading together, I knew she was going to be a great co star of mine and we've formed an amazing bond throughout the years" Drew says with his hands. In gratitude, you give him a pat on the back.

Your cast mates' eyes are constantly drawn to you and Drew since they can tell you have mutual feelings for each other. Granted, you two have scenes together all the time and have developed a strong bond. However, you consider being more than friends with him.

The interview continued on with more questions popping up that were exciting to answer. In the back of your mind you were thinking about the question about Drew and you— do you want more?

Later that evening, you and Drew returned to your apartment and relaxed in your living room. The city lights outside your window gave a soft glow across the room, and the steady hum of the air conditioner broke the silence. You'd both changed into more comfortable clothes, eager to relax after a long day.

"Today was something, huh?" Drew murmured, breaking the silence as he sprawled down on your couch, seemingly at peace.

"Yeah, it was," you said, sitting next to him. "They really went all in on the whole shipping thing."

Drew chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your heart race. "Yes, they did. "Makes you think, doesn't it?"

He sat up, his face instantly serious. "About Us. I mean, everybody sees it. Hell, we see it, don't we?

Your breath became locked in your throat. The playful flirtation, the lingering touches, the way your heart raced whenever he was close—it all hinted at something more than friendship. However, hearing him say it aloud was another. It made it real.

"I suppose we do," you confessed gently.

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[kaysungshine]

Redamancy ['red-a-man-sE] noun ;a love returned in full

Part II out now!

{ Pairing } - idol!bangchan x staff!afab.reader (with a hint of bestfriend!jisung?)

{ Genre } - NSFW, the trifecta (s/a/f), frenimies to friends to lovers? idk but we'll get there in the end

{ Synopsis } - Han Jisung is your new bestie & technical colleague, of course you befriended the rest of his members. Group nights became a tradition, & tonight involves liquor and drinking games for the first time. Truth or drink?

{ WC } - 6.7k

{ Warnings & tags } - 18+ MDNI, NSFW, smut, angst, fluff, drinking, breath play (choking), swearing, dry humping, use of 'babygirl', mention of wet dream, talk of edging, talk of domming, talk of choking, talk of exhibitionism, all of ot8 is suggestive af when they drink, reader and jisung are PLATONIC I promise they're just touchy, they're all giggly drunks so overuse of laughing chuckling and giggling, chan is kinda dumb in this he just... is in denial land but we'll find out more about that later, unrealistic work scenarios, unrealistic dorm setup? idk lol

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated with the actual skz, and is a fictional piece. I DO NOT own Stray Kids, this fic is just influenced by them!

{ A/N } - Okay I know I took forever to post & this intro is hella long & I'm sorry! Once again, I will say this is my first skz fic. I come from the world of AO3 & dramione. I am out of my comfort zone lol. First time posting stories on tumblr too! So if I missed anything please let me know <3 there will be a part 2, I've already started writing it! The plot is weak af, but gimme a few more stories and I'll find my groove. Promise! Unbeta'd, be gentle with me ♡

It was supposed to be a relatively chill Saturday night, so you were excited. You just got off work, and had arrived at Jisung's. He swung the door open smiling and pulled you inside, into an immediate hug. Everyone said their greetings, and then Jisung went immediately to whining.

"Finally, what kept you so late?"

You took your shoes, mask, sunglasses, and hat off, letting your curls fall down your back. Then you unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugging it off your shoulders and exposing your fitted white tee. You gave your jacket and bag to Ji so he could put them away. You always arrived in 'disguise', in baggy clothing so that no one suspected anything. Though you thought it was ridiculous. It doesn't matter how baggy the sweat pants or hoodie is, there's no hiding the curve of your ass.

You were a content editor at JYPE, and had become really good friends with Han Jisung. Friendships between idols and staff certainly aren't forbidden, in fact they're encouraged to an extent... as long as no lines are crossed. But it's pretty much an ignored rule. Anyways, you were a small 'behind-the-scenes' employee, not a manager or assistant or makeup artist. Not anyone directly involved with any idols. No one off the street knew who you were. Still, over the last almost year or so, you and him became besties. You frequently shared meals together at work, had sleepovers, you even went camping. You were basically glued to each other. It could easily be taken the wrong way by the media and fans. Hell, it gets taken the wrong way by co-workers, other idols, and even his group members. Although they've mostly accepted that's not the case. It's a given with the way you two act though.

Your relationship is definitely platonic, confirming pretty early on that neither of you felt anything more than friendly love for each other. But you both love teasing the other suggestively. You suppose that's partly why you two got so close so quickly. Your personalities are so similar, it's like you share the same singular brain cell sometimes.

"Editing, per usual." You finally reply with a sigh, "We had to cut A LOT out of nexz's new video. They're so high energy, they slip up a lot, especially with the swearing, but nothing we can't handle."

"Gotta love kids." Chan snorts while sipping a beer.

You smile awkwardly in response and look around the room. Everyone is here, all with their preferred beverages, and chatting away or scrolling.

Ji comes back with a drink for you, he knows you're partial to tequila and always keeps it on deck. Normally, you spend every weekend you can together, which sometimes is not as often as either of you would like. Sometimes you'd both head back to your place, and just have all nighters, binge watching anime and gorging yourselves on junk food. More recently, like tonight, you get invited over to hang with him and the rest of the boys.

It usually results in a few drinks and a movie, or talk about work. Sometimes you just play music and talk and vibe, or try to cook food together when you get the munchies... Which more than likely results in Minho taking over because he just can't help himself. However the nights play out, they're always fun, and you're gradually getting closer to the rest of the members too. Although no one can compare to the bond you have with your Jiji.

"I don't wanna watch a movie tonight, my eyes hurt too much." He starts complaining.

"Poor baby." You tease and run your fingers through his hair, laughing.

"When are you two just going to come out with the fact that you're in love?" Seungmin asks.

You roll your eyes, "When dwaekki's fly."

"I can easily make that happen." Changbin laughs.

"We could play a game?" Felix suggests, already looking flushed from the alcohol.

Jeongin gets excited, "Let's do a drinking game! It's been a while."

"I don't believe I've ever played a drinking game with y'all."

Hyunjin hums, "Mm, you haven't. Mostly because we get crazy, we've never brought up the idea."

This piqued your interest, "More crazy than I've already seen? I don't think that's possible."

Minho chimes in this time, "You forget we're a group of men sometimes, I swear. Mix alcohol and suggestive games, it definitely gets 'crazier' than you've seen, inappropriately crazy."

You level him with a smirk, "I'm down."

"That's my y/n!" Ji says, while pulling you to sit in his lap, "Fearless."

You giggle and lean into him while Minho just narrows his eyes at you and purses his lips. Something tells you he's up to something, but you're ready for any challenge.

"Fine. Then we'll play something easy, truth or drink. If someone refuses to answer, they drink. Whoever finishes their drink first loses." Minho says.

"What does the loser have to do?" You ask.

"Pay for everyone's lunch every day for a month!" Changbin says.

"Deal." You say. 

You're an open book, Ji knows this. There's no question you won't answer.

Everyone is up now, getting new drinks & refills before the game starts. You can't help but notice that Chan didn't get up, he looks a little nervous for some reason. He was always the most worried about you being around so much. In the beginning it definitely came across like he didn't like you. Now you know that's not the case... you think. He tolerates you now to say the least. You couldn't blame him too much, he was just protective of his boys. You actually found it incredibly sweet, or maybe it's just that stupid soft spot you have for him.

He always tried to keep you at arms length from the group. Not wanting anyone to get too close to you. Until Jisung put him in his place, as best he could anyways.

You were in Ji's lap, watching Spirited Away. He was drawing imaginary lines and shapes on your back, while you rested your head on his shoulder, facing the tv. His head was resting on top of yours as well, and a blanket covered you both.

Chan walked in seeing this, and nearly had a stroke. He said we were being inappropriate. And specifically made it a point to tell you to be more professional as a member of the staff. Short version: know your fucking place, you're overstepping. 

You scoffed at him, prepared to confront him about his growing disdain towards you. Let him know he's the one being inappropriate, downright childish. But Ji nudged you onto the couch and got to him first.

It was kind of cute watching him standing there, ears becoming red and getting in Chan's face. Cute in the way that it was like a maltese puppy trying to stand up to a doberman. Then he proceeded to yell at him about how he was way out of line. Saying he was being flat out disrespectful and that he was done with the ridiculous way he has been acting about you. The last thing he said was that he didn't know what got into him, and that he'd never seen this side of Chan before. 

Chan was silent, looking intensely into Jisungs eyes. But he never backed down, so Chan poked his tongue to his cheek, then retreated to his room for the whole night. You had to scoop Ji off the floor right afterwards. He had let his knees buckle, and fell to the floor once Chan was gone. Citing that he wasn't sure he was going to live through the night to see the morning sun. Typical dramatic fashion for your best friend. But you soothed him, fluffing up his ego about 'defending your honor'. His words, not yours.

As that night went on though, the tiniest bit of worry coursed through you. Chan hadn't come back out. Not even when the other members came home, trying to knock on his door to greet him. Or when the food was ready to be served, you had even given knocking a try. Only after Hyunjin begged you to, because 'He already doesn't take care of himself. He needs to eat.' No, you didn't see him again that night until you had already walked out the front door. He slipped out behind you shortly after, grabbing you by the wrist and stopping you. 

You thought he was going to continue the argument for a moment, but no, he was apologizing. Not much more was said afterwards, but his apology was genuine and heartfelt, so you accepted it. You two ended up hugging it out, and thank goodness no one saw that, because it was incredibly cringeworthy. He had no more major issues after that. But he was still unexplainably awkward around you, but it's not like you were any better. You two simply didn't know how to interact with each other for longer than 30 seconds. And that was pushing it. You suspected that might not ever go away. He likes to keep his walls high and strong, and you're stubborn at times.

But of course,  despite that stubbornness. You developed some sort of feelings towards him. Feelings you refused to acknowledge, well tried to refuse. You would push those feelings down deep within your heart, put them in a little box, and tape it shut trying to forget it's there. There was no need to pine over the man, he had stay to do that for him, and who knows who else in his life. Somehow that box always ended up ripped open again.

There was never a reason to act on these feelings. Not to mention, you think you'd be breaking SO MANY rules. Putting your job, his job, hell everyone's job at risk. Or worse, making a fool of yourself when he would downright reject you.

You keep watching him, now he's shaking his leg up and down, seeming agitated. Maybe he just doesn't want everyone getting into a vulnerable state of mind while playing? Maybe he's worried somebody will say or do something wrong? That someone will cross a line, as he loves to say?

Trying to ease his negative feelings, and extend yet another olive branch. You toss a throw pillow at him, hitting him in the chest and pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looks at you, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, and you just chuckle nervously at him saying, "Don't worry, it's like Vegas. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

"God how fuckin' corny was that?" Ji teases you, poking your side making you giggle more.

To your relief, Chan is laughing with you, and shaking his head, "I just want them to behave."

"Oh relax, we're all grown. We're all friends. So we'll get to know each other more intimately, big whoop." You shrug.

"Mmm..." He replied, before raising his voice so everyone could hear him, "Whatever is spoken about tonight, doesn't leave this room."

"I swear you're the one with anxiety sometimes, not me." Ji mumbles.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... dad." Hyunjin says as he sits next to you and Ji.

"As if that announcement even had to be made, I swear, and you wonder why we call you old." Seungmin comments.

Once everyone is settled in with their drinks, Minho directs Chan to start the game.

"Jisung, when was the last time you cried?"

He laughed, "You're trying to embarrass me because you know it was this morning, but I am confident and secure in the fact that I am a sensitive man."

He said the last bit with his hand over his heart, and his eyes closed, effectively making everyone chuckle.

"My poor baby, why were you crying?" You question teasingly.

"Please don't bring it up, he'll start blubbering all over again. Stupid, sad, dog rescue videos." Seungmin mumbles.

"Minho!" Ji shouts, pointing at him dramatically, "This question is for you. If you had to kiss someone in this room on the cheek, who would it be?"

"Hyunjin." He said bluntly, making you and everyone else laugh while Hyune just rolled his eyes.

"Would you kiss me back?" He asked him, eyes full of hope and bottom lip jutted out and pouting, trying to act cute. And succeeding, honestly.

Hyunjin acted like he was pondering the question, but ultimately was the first to take a sip from his glass, "I decline to answer."

He looked to you next, a suggestive smirk on his face, making you the next victim, "Y/niiieee..."

"Oi, be respectful." Chan scolds immediately, not liking the look at all.

"All I was going to do was repeat the question!" He said defensively, "Y/n, if you had to choose, who would you kiss on the cheek?"

You tried hard to keep your eyes from trailing over to Chan, a tingly feeling spreading across your skin at the mere thought of innocently kissing his cheek. Instead you chose the easy answer, because it wasn't a lie. You'd also kiss your best friend on the cheek any time.

"My Jiji of course," And you took his face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks between your middle finger and thumb, and plant a loud smooch on each of them, "he probably only asked because he wanted one anyways."

He just chuckles, letting you baby him and Seungmin fake gags.

"Minnieee..." You pause trying to come up with a question, "when you dye your hair next, what color would you want?"

"Green, my entire head green."

"That would look interesting." You laugh.

You all go 'round in circles for a few rounds, completely forgetting about the rules of the game. Having now finished your glasses from casually sipping throughout the game, most of you have switched to occasional shots. You're starting to feel warm and tipsy. Of course the more you all drank, the more the questions started to get more... amorous. Which is exactly how you all assumed this game would go. No wonder Chan was so anxious.

However looking over to him now, he's definitely having a good time. Like every other person, he loosens up while drinking, but tonight he seems even more so.

"Y/n," Chan starts with a sly look making your skin buzz again. Among all of you, he is 100% the most inebriated right now, "when was your first kiss?"

"Yah! He tells us to be respectful, but look how he is after a few drinks!" Changbin yells laughing.

Chan loses it, "You're right Binnie, you don't have to answer or drink." He says in between fits of squeaky laughter. 

You think you could listen to him laugh all day.

You shake your head and snort, "I've answered worse questions playing this game before. I was 13 when I had my first kiss."

Hyunjin nearly spits his drink out, because again, no one is drinking just as punishment anymore, "13?!"

"Well, yeah, it's a pretty normal age in America... I think..." you started to blush, "why, how old were you?" you ask Hyunjin.

He hesitates, but eventually he spoke, "I was 18."

The rest chime in saying they were also 18 or 19. With the exception of Felix who said he was 16.

Without even thinking you start to say, "Aaah, see I was 18 when I-" and you're abruptly stopped with Ji's hand slapping over your mouth.

Your eyes go wide, caught off guard, but understanding as you almost blurted out unnecessary information. Nothing that Ji hadn't known obviously, it's just that everyone else doesn't really know you on that level. 

"Jagi, you only had to answer the one question, adding extra info, that's not how you play the gaaaaame." He says in a sing-song voice, "Hyunjin it's your turn to ask someone."

"No no no no! What was she going to say?" Chan chuckles.

When you looked at him, he winked at you, and you had to stop yourself from going limp in Ji's arms. He knew damn well what you were going to say. Why is he teasing, no torturing you like this?

You peel Ji's hand off your mouth to respond "It's not your turn, you'll have to wait to ask me that."

The group starts laughing and shouting, teasing Chan who is ignoring it all, just staring at you with curious eyes and his tongue in his cheek. Does he know how hot he looks doing that?

"Okay, so then I'll ask you. What were you going to say?" Hyunjin asks calmly, trying to fight the smile off his face.

You pour yet another shot, and knock it back thinking, what the hell, "I was going to say I was 18 when I first hooked up with a man."

Some members looked surprised, the game taking an obvious turn. However Hyunjin, Felix, and Chan started laughing again.

"I knew that's what you were going to say." Felix slurred. 

"Yeah I was definitely teasing you on that, because I knew." Chan followed.

"Mmm, well judging from the shocked faces of everyone else, you two seem to be the only psychics." You try to joke, wanting the attention off of you suddenly.

"No, don't get us wrong, not all of us are as innocent as you think." Seungmin says defensively.

"Oh really now?" You respond, one brow quirking up.

Seungmin just turned red, and sat back in his seat. To which Chan started laughing, yet again. He's a giggly drunk, and you love it.

"Don't tease my puppy, babe." Ji slurred, trying to reach his arm to console Seungmin, but ultimately failing.

"I mean I was 18 too, with the same girl I first kissed." Hyunjin shrugged.

"But what do you mean 'to a man'?" Jeongin asked with a shit eating grin on his face. 

You promptly turned into a tomato, and started choking on air.

"You're not that slow pabo, obviously it means she's been with women too." Ji says, rather loudly and speaking freely, all while patting your back.

You're quiet. It's not like it's a secret, you've never hidden your sexuality. But it never came up in conversation with anyone here, except Jisung.

Wanting to ease the tone, Felix speaks up, "Well I was 18 when I first hooked up with a dude."

"I was 21, but everyone already knows that story." Ji slurred.

The whole conversation triggers another group laughing fit. Except for Chan, who is looking at you with those dark eyes again. And... is he blushing? Or is that the alcohol? He eventually snaps out of whatever daze he was in, and slowly smiles at you reassuringly.

You mentally kick yourself for getting your hopes up, of course he couldn't ever think of you like that. You're imagining things.

"But then, how old were you when you first hooked up with a girl?" Jeongin asked again, genuinely curious.

"A lot younger than 18..." You trailed off laughing, "I'll just say in high school."

"The air is different outside of Korea." Changbin says suddenly, sounding thoughtful.

Hyunjin nearly collapsed laughing, slapping Minho on the knee repeatedly, despite the glare he was shooting him.

"Well I just answered a bunch of questions in a row so that means I get to ask two people a question. And the second person I ask gets the next turn." You say, making up new rules. 

"So... Chan." He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and you just smirk, knowing you're trying to get back at him, "How old were YOU when you lost your virginity?"

He gulps and looks around at the group before answering, "I... was 18."

"Chan-hyung, you never answered us when we would ask you! Why answer her?" Jisung whines.

"I honestly don't know, maybe it's the liquor. None of you ever asked me drunk." He starts giggling.

"Okay so question 2... Binnie!" He gulps and looks at you with wide eyes, "Are you more of a boob guy?" You say grabbing your own, not even really thinking about it, "Or an ass guy?"

Changbin started laughing and answered, "Definitely ass, but I appreciate boobs too, equality."

"I am just learning so much about my fellow members lately." Seungmin whispers.

"Is that a bad thing?" You giggle.

"Not at all, it feels strangely comforting, letting loose like this." He replies and smiles softly at me, "It's been a while."

"It's freeing!" Jeongin yells abruptly, throwing his hands in the air.

"Aye, my question is for you then Min. Have you ever had a wet dream?" Changbin asks.

"... what guy hasn't? Don't all guys get them?" He asks looking around.

Then you chime in again frankly, "Girls can get them too you know."

Why does it feel like you've opened pandora's box on your sex life, in every single aspect?

Ji starts laughing, nodding his head vigorously and you know where this is about to go.

"Really now?" Felix says, mimicking your exact tone from earlier, "What was it about?"

"Mmmm... it's not your turn to ask," Then you turn to Seungmin, "And if you ask me, I will absolutely drink and not answer. No way I'm explaining a sex dream right now."

Seungmin just rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh.

"But I wanna knooooooow," Jisung whines, "You looked so cute having one last weekend, you never told me what it was about."

Everyone was watching you two closely now, waiting to hear how he knew what you looked like in that situation.

You turned around and smacked his arm, "We weren't going to mention that ever again! Remember?!" You attempt to be angry, but you can't help it and end up smiling.

"Okay, well now I'm curious since you two are bringing this up." Minho says with a glint in his eye.

"Y/n may or may not have had one when I slept over, and I woke up to her moaning and hump--"

This time it was your turn to slap a hand over his mouth, "Jiji, Sungie, my love, my sweet sweet SWEET best friend. I don't want to kill you, but I will." You say in a dulcet tone.

He raised his hands, eyes wide and nodded his head. You couldn't help but laugh, apparently you're a giggly drunk too.

Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Chan adjusting himself in his pants. But then you reminded yourself that it was just wishful thinking and an alcohol induced hallucination. Horny hallucination. God you needed to get over him and under someone else. This unrequited shit wasn't for you.

"I'm so never going to drop this you know, I wanna know what the hell happened." Minho smirked at you, to which you flipped him off jokingly.

It's Seungmin's turn next, and he's just staring at Jeongin with a blank face, "Have you ever had a one night stand?"

He pauses for a moment and then finally answers, "No, I haven't."

He looked at you now, asking his question, "You know what I have to ask now, right?"

"Go ahead." You challenge, fully prepared to choke down another shot and not answer his question, and he smiles.

"What's one of your kinks?"

You were unprepared for that question. And how could you know he would ask that, these men like to fuck around with your head.

"Relax, I just wanted to see your reaction." He says before chuckling.

You glared at him for a moment, halfheartedly. They think they can just retract questions when they get scared that they went too far. Screw that, you're answering.

"I guess the most simple one I have is edging." You shrug.

"The most simple one?!" Hyunjin asked.

"What are you a masochist? Edging is the worst, feels like torture to me." Ji says.

"But the build up is so delicious, and the end result is so worth it. It's so intense." Felix chimes in, "Choking too, that can be intense." 

"Hm, breath play might actually be my favorite." You admit.

"Damn y/n." Ji says, eyeing you with a smile, "You're full of surprises, even to this day." 

You shrug again, "Everyone has different kinks... What's one of yours?" You ask him.

He ponders for a moment, "I like being dommed sometimes."

"Big surprise." Minho says and you all laugh.

"Good one though," You nod, "That's one of mine too."

"I think I'm an exhibitionist, to an extent of course." Hyunjin says next.

"That's also not a surprise." Minho replies.

You can't help but let your eyes wander over to Chan again, while everyone else is sharing different things they're into in bed. The liquor has everyone speaking loosely. But Chan doesn't seem to care about it anymore.

You find him staring right back at you, that same look in his eyes from earlier, and you feel heat spread in your stomach, and wetness starts to pool in your panties. Maybe you weren't imagining things.

But you don't notice that Ji's observing both of you in his drunken haze. Not too faded to ignore you and Chan eye-fucking each other.

Your heart starts racing the longer you hold eye contact, and you start shifting uncomfortably on his lap, before looking away and deciding to get up.

"Alright... I need some bread to soak up this alcohol, and then I need to get home because it's already 2 in the morning." You say with a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I'm wasted right now," Jeongin says and stands, "Bed's a good idea. Goodnight everyone." And he leaves to his room.

Ji grabs your wrist, preventing you from moving, "You're not going anywhere. We're all drunk, you can't drive and no one can bring you back home."

"Fiiiiiiine," You say, "but I still want bread."

"You and your bread fixation whenever you drink." Minho mumbles, heading to the kitchen anyways to grab you some.

When he comes back he hands it to you and you start munching away happily, doing a little dance.

Meanwhile, Felix is trying to tug Chan's arms to make him stand up, but he's fighting him on it and whining. Clearly he exceeded his limit tonight drinking. He probably won't even remember the looks he was giving you, you think.

"I don't wanna go to bed." Chan whines.

Felix finally succeeds in pulling him up, "C'mon mate, you definitely need to sleep this off. You'll be miserable tomorrow. Let's get you some water too, hmm?"

Chan reluctantly holds his arm, and follows him down the hall, stumbling over his own two feet along the way. You can't help but laugh at the sight.

More of the boys say goodnight and head off to their rooms, but Ji and Minho stay with you in the living room, chatting a little longer before bed.

Ji starts going through his bags, determined that you left some pajamas here from when you slept over previously, and he kept them in a bag to give back to you. He pulls out the nightie, that you honestly forgot you brought here. But you see why you didn't ever wear it at the time. It's dark green, spaghetti straps and has lace along the bust line. It also has slits on each side of your thigh, and only covers you to the middle of your thighs. Your go to sleepware was always nighties or large tees, they're comfortable and sometimes you get hot at night. Mix in the fact that you were drinking tonight? You're already feeling overheated. But wearing this?

"Jiiiiiii, don't you have any t-shirts I can wear?" You whine.

He's already under the covers, fighting sleep, "Sorry babe... haven't done laundry... Nothing clean..."

You whine again before taking it and heading across the hall into one of the bathrooms. It was this or sleep in your sweats, and that idea sounded entirely too suffocating to you.

You slip the nightie on and brush your teeth with your designated toothbrush you had there. Jisungs idea, after you had too much tequila one night and he diligently held your hair back as you got sick.

You sigh as you're leaving, and make your way towards Ji's room. Before you reach the door though, Chan walks out of his room. He's in a black tank top, and red boxer briefs... your eyes immediately trail down and go wide. His outline clear as day. But you change your view quickly, hopefully before he notices.

It doesn't help though, now all you're doing is eyeing his arms, the muscles cut throughout them. The veins that trail all the way down to his hands. God, his hands... What wouldn't you let those hands do to you...

He scratches the back of his head, and the movement snaps you out of your gaze. You find him staring back at you for a second before answering, "Sorry, I'll just..."

You start to shake your head, "No, no. No reason to apologize." You chuckle and start shifting on your feet. You feel the skirt of your nightie swaying with you. It opened the slit wider, and Chan immediately looked down at your exposed thigh. He inhaled quietly, sucking in air through his nose.

Any other day, you'd be scrambling to cover yourself. Feeling insecure and too bare. You don't know if it was the liquor in you, but tonight? Being on display? It turned you on.

You clenched your thighs together, almost involuntarily, and Chan didn't miss that.

Time seemed to be moving too slow. He stepped towards you, nearly closing the gap between you. He's only inches away, and looking down on you. His eyes have that dark, smoldery look again. He raised his hand and brushed the curls off your face and behind your ear. When he rests his palm against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut and you lean into his touch. It's so warm, and comforting. As if it was always meant for you.

When you open your eyes, you can clearly see the lust in his is only growing. He's not holding it back anymore, biting his lip as he stares at you. You almost whimper in anticipation.

"This is your opportunity to walk away if you're not okay with me kissing you." He says lowly.

You closed your eyes, and his lips met yours. The first few seconds were sweet and soft. Almost too innocent for the heat of the moment, but then he deepened it. He was pulling you by the waist into him, running his hands down and resting them on your ass. You could easily feel how hard he was for you, even through the thin fabrics. This time you let the whimper out, and he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. When you tried to do the same, he didn't give you the chance. Instead he slipped his tongue in. It was like he was lost in desire, and greedy for more. You couldn't help it when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

He groaned and started backing you into the wall, his lips never leaving yours. He grabbed your thighs in each hand, and hoisted you up, slotting himself between them. Your legs naturally wrapped around him, and he started rocking his length against you. His pace was achingly slow, but still delicious.

You moaned and slipped a hand up to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of hair. He breaks the kiss and throws his head back with his eyes closed. He half hisses, half groans, and you can't help but rock your hips against him harder, hoping to hear more. He grips your thigh tighter, and leans down to press a quick kiss to your neck, before licking and sucking on it. He's meeting each roll of your hips with rough thrusts. And even clothed, you feel how perfectly he's rubbing your clit.

Your head is so clouded with need. Need to be touched. Need to touch him. Need to feel him inside of you. You don't even think twice when he glides his hand up your stomach, and over your breasts. He gives one a light squeeze before moving up to wrap his fingers around your neck, and your brain loses all sense for a moment.

He's just resting his hand there, but you wish he'd do more. You're not sure if this man knows just how pliant you are for him right now.

Then he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, "Can I touch you?"

His warm breath gives you chills, and you nod your head as best as you can. But that doesn't suffice him, he stops his movements against you and his grip around your throat tightens. You think you could probably get off on it if he tightens his fingers just a bit more, but he doesn't, instead he says, "I'm going to need words, babygirl."

Your hips buck into him, and you breathe out a quiet "Yes. Please..."

With that, he yanks your face closer to his by your neck. He's squeezing ever so slightly tighter around your throat. He bites your lip and you groan. But he's quick to silence you with his tongue.

Letting go, he trailed his hand back down your body and to your core. Slowly he started to rub you through the thin lace. You were so sensitive, that when he found your clit and pressed a circle into it. You couldn't help but breathe out his name. He pushed your panties to the side, and when he felt you for the first time you felt him smile against your lips.

"Babygirl... fuck, you're so wet for me." 

And as he whispered that, he slipped a finger in you. He set a steady pace, dragging against your walls with a curl. Each pump hitting your sweet spot, and the heel of his hand creating delightful friction against your swollen bud. His breathing was heavy in your ear, breaking through all your helpless whimpering. When he added a second finger, you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Chan..." You moaned louder this time, while simultaneously letting your head drop against the wall with a thud.

He pulled his lips off of you, eyes wide when he met yours. He started blinking as if he was coming back to reality. When he looked into your eyes again, he looked startled.

"What's wrong?" You pant, feeling hot and dizzy, wishing he would keep moving his hands.

Instead, he quickly slips his fingers out of you, and sets your feet on the floor. Then he backs away.

"I'm sorry, y/n... I don't know what came over me, that was incredibly inappropriate and out of character." Chan mumbled.

Your heart sinks, as you feel the sting of rejection. Tears threatened to well in your eyes, and you immediately felt the oncoming headache from holding them back. You shouldn't feel so emotional and upset. This was all spur of the moment. But you do, you feel devastated.

Regardless, you clear your throat, "I understand." You force an unsettling chuckle out, when a sob threatens to escape instead.

He puts on a blank face that feels so cold, and responds with "Don't forget to drink some water, stay hydrated... I'll be heading to bed now, you should too."

All you really want to say is don't leave, because you want to finish what was started. Because you've wanted this for so long. Because the box you kept away in the depths of your heart had ripped open once again. And all the languished emotions were here, front and center, aching to bear it all to him. To let him see. Confess. But that would be selfish, he's clearly uncomfortable with it all. He probably regrets it. An alcohol induced affair. In his eyes, a complete mistake. 

So instead you say, "Okay."

Because that's all you can muster before the tears start to fall. You turn away,  going back to facing Ji's door. 

"Goodnight y/n... Sleep well." He says, and puts a tentative hand on your shoulder.

You shrug it off, and escape to Ji's bedroom. To your surprise he's sitting up in bed, and ushering you come to him with his arms open and bottom lip pouted out.

You run to him, a bit dramatically and fall a part in his arms. But you can't help it, you sealed these emotions away for too long. You were too hurt at the moment to even try pushing them back down.

Jisung is your life saver, he's comforting you, rubbing his fingers on your scalp and rocking you back and forth to try and calm you. He gives you time before you have to explain why exactly you're having a melt down.

"Chan's an idiot." He finally says.

And you lean back to look at him, confused on how quickly he's put two and two together.

"Well you weren't exactly quiet. Between your exaggerated moans and his animalistic grunting right outside my door, of course I heard it." He rolled his eyes jokingly and that earned a laugh from you.

You smacked him lightly, "I was lost in the moment... don't judge me."

"Jagi..." He says, and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, "You've liked him for so much longer than a moment."

Your heart starts pounding faster again. How could he know that. It's the one thing you've kept from him, from everyone, hell you even denied it to yourself for as long as possible. Was it that obvious? Who else knows? You go to speak, fear written across your face.

"No. You were not obvious, in fact you're an amazing actor. I'm sure none of the other members noticed, and definitely no one else at work knew." He answers before you can even get words out.

You nod slowly, "So then, how'd you know?"

He smiled proudly, "I'm a people watcher, I see all."

You smack him again, a little harder this time.

"Alright, alright, but I really did see all the looks you'd give him when no one else was watching... I know what longing looks like, and..." he trailed off.

You knew that wasn't all, "And?"

"Aaaaand... maybe that night you had that wet dream. You were moaning his name while humping the pillow..."

"You never told me that!" You shoved your head into your hands, distraught.

"Well I didn't want to embarrass you! I honestly didn't think you looked at any of us that way until then. Like I said, a good actor. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready to."

You sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just a stupid crush, it'll pass."

"You're grown, you don't have to apologize to anyone for liking someone. But y/n," He cupped your cheek forcing you to look at him again, "this isn't just a simple crush, is it?"

With that question, you felt the tears spilling all over again. He pulled you to lay down with him, holding you tight against him and letting you cry it all out. Somewhere between his low humming, and your quiet weeping, you fell asleep.

When you blink the sleep away from your eyes the next morning, you're still entangled with Ji. He's literally wrapped around you like a koala.

You snort out a laugh and go to check the time on your phone. 7:30 am, entirely too early. You decide to try and fall back asleep, but last night's events rush back to you. Dread fills your chest, and your fight or flight kicks in. You're trying to gently escape Ji's hold, and not hyperventilate. The latter is more difficult but, since that man can sleep through anything, you were able to succeed.

You get changed back into your clothes, and leave a note for him saying that you're leaving and you'll text him when you get home. You can't bear to face Chan, let alone anyone else who might've heard you two last night. So you decide to skip out on the usual coffee and breakfast routine. You all have that tradition after a drunken night, but you know Ji will cover for you with everyone anyways.

You're rushing down the hall, wanting to grab your things and head for the door. Panic is starting to bubble over, and you're haphazardly covering yourself up to be unnoticeable. As you're slipping the mask over your face, a voice stops you.

"Morning... don't you want to stay for breakfast?"

You can't bring yourself to look at Chan, those words only setting the box of emotions in your heart on fire. You know he only means it in the way that it is an unbroken tradition. No matter how sick one of you gets, group breakfast is a must for recuperation. No one has skipped it in the months you've been doing it. We all take care of each other. But the idea makes your mouth bitter, because you wish it was just you two. Alone. Making breakfast the morning after earth shattering sex. And the fact he doesn't mean it in that way in the slightest makes tears prick back into your eyes.

Yes, you know you're being petty. You should stick it through for your friends. Take a page from Chan and act like nothing ever happened. You just can't find it inside you to care, you need to go home and lick your wounds before facing anyone here again. Call it childish, but you didn't care.

You're struggling to find words and just blurt out, "No thanks." And rush out the door, heading to the safety of your car.

You left Chan standing there. Unbeknownst to you, hurting just as much.

Special thank you to @jeonginsleftcheek who encouraged me through finishing this! I had finished it, and then accidentally deleted the entire ending. But in turn, that was a good thing I think... because now there'll be a part 2! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know and I'll start one! Feedback is always cherished, but be gentle pleeeeeeeease ♡