#my first fic ig?

[sheerakk]

[juniemunie]

Its the kids turn!! ⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

i put way too much effort in this

Don't worry they're still FAR from the conventional nuclear family lmao

PJ is by @/7goodangel

Gradient is by @/askcomboclub

Template by @/unu-nunu-art

Error and Fresh by @/loverofpiggies

Ink by @/comyet

Design notes under!

Design Notes for PJ:

-Error patches up the tears on his scarf! Very nice of him to do.

-All the art materials he has stashed on his belt are for food. He likes to snack on em often.

-Because of Error's..."tolerance" of him, he has more strings that he can use. He's got enough to form legs.

-Fresh gifts him magical ink durable Heely shoes! Instead of shedding footprints all over the place, he can instead heely/skate around and leave behind lines. He's creative on using it during battles. He would never admit it, but he appreciates the gift.

Design Notes for Gradient:

-I based his outfit off ye old web aesthetics like Cyber Grunge,,, I really liked the big pants look on him.

-I placed his scarf on his neck to match with his family, but also to match Template's scarf hehe, a little sign of his influence.

-You can't see it but his laptop bag has a ton of pins and merch of random dated internet references.

-His shoes looking old design Ink's shoes were complete accident but I liked it enough to keep anyway. Maybe Ink gave it to him and he spiced it up!

[changbunnies]

Revelation (18+)

♡ Pairing: Vampire Priest!Jeongin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by midnight mass (tv), horror themes, vampire / human relationship, smut, possibly dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 4k

♡ Summary: The suspiciously young and extremely handsome priest of your small-town church has a very big secret– and it's not until he's sinking his fangs into your neck that you discover what exactly that secret is.

♡ General Warnings: usage of typical vampire abilities (increased senses, strength, etc), descriptions of blood, religious themes (specifically catholicism focused), references to religious guilt + shame, reader does not trust jeongin at all (for good reason lol), very blatant manipulation, cult vibes? jeongin basically has the whole town under his thumb so. do with that what you will lol

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon, vampire venom that acts as an aphrodisiac, sexual acts inside a church (specifically in a confessional booth), some gendered language (dirty + good girl), dom/sub dynamics, dom!jeongin, biting + blood drinking, thigh riding, fingering (f rec), a lil bit of praise kink, corruption kink?

♡ Notes: this is possibly niche but well. the vampire priest concept lives rent free in my head thanks to midnight mass, and innie said he wanted to be a priest + he'd definitely be a sexy vampire so here we are lmao. and sorry i'm suddenly posting out of age order for my late kinktober fics but i ended up finishing this before the other members i still have left :')

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There's something that isn't right about your local church's head priest. Firstly, his age doesn't make sense; who on God's green earth becomes a priest in their 20s?

At least, you assume that's around how old Father Yang, who notably prefers to be called Jeongin, is– you've never been told, and you've never asked, but he certainly doesn't look any older than that.

Secondly, why are his sermons always at night? In all the towns you've ever lived in, in all the churches you've ever frequented, this is the first time you've ever experienced your standard, weekly Sunday service routinely happening at 9 p.m.

And thirdly, why is it that everyone who meets with him for confession comes back looking delirious and.. euphoric, almost? You don't get it– sure, confessing your sins is freeing; asking for and receiving God's forgiveness is among the best feelings that can be experienced if you're a devout believer, but still.

Something about all of it just doesn't sit right with you– and to make matters worse, you seem to be the only person in town suspicious of him. You're new to town, have only been here a handful of months, so you get it– you're the outsider, you don't know him like they do, et cetera, et cetera.

But how can not a single other person in town be bothered by how strange it all is? There has to be an explanation– you don't know what it is, and you don't know why you're the only one who seems to care, but there must be a reason.

It's Sunday again, and you spend the entire sermon watching Jeongin like a hawk, trying to catch any sign as to what it is about him that has all these people so enraptured. And while it's not necessarily wrong for him to be, another thing that strikes you is that he's easily the most casually dressed yet stylish priest you've ever met.

He wears the standard clergy vest and rabat, as he should, but over it is a leather jacket, and he wears denim blue jeans instead of dress pants. His shoes are sleek and polished, he has pretty, ornate rings decorating his fingers, has expertly styled slicked hair and silver earrings dangling from his pierced ears.

Again, it's not necessarily wrong, but it's definitely something you wouldn't think a priest's Sunday best would entail. And maybe that's only because the priests in your life have only ever been old, and didn't put much thought into style, but maybe that's what people like about him?

Maybe it makes him seem more down to earth and approachable; maybe it's easier to confess your sins when, outstanding devotion to God aside, he seems like as ordinary a person as any other. Of course, that's logically always the case, but some priests have an intimidating "holier-than-thou" attitude about them, and it certainly helps Jeongin's case that he seemingly makes an effort to not give off that vibe.

And admittedly, he's charming– there's something so uniquely handsome about the way he smiles while preaching God's word, how his eyes twinkle while he recites a scripture and relates it back to a point he made several minutes prior; you can't deny that it's enthralling.

But when he looks over the attendees lined in the pews, it always feels like he's looking straight through you, seeing to the depths of your soul and laying it bare. It gives you chills, honestly; makes you feel exposed in a way that's indescribable; like with a glance alone, he knows all your secrets, your every sin, down to their most minute details.

It's near midnight when his sermon ends; you stay seated in the backmost pew to the left, brows furrowed as everyone shakes his hand or hugs him, thanking him for another "terrific service." It's so bizarre– and it's not until the last of the congregation exits the small, wooden church that you begin to rise from your seat.

Though you're sure the church carries electricity and that the lights can be flicked on, the priest never does so– he always uses candles, casting a warm yellow glow on the dingy, white wood of the walls. It casts more shadows, gives the place an almost unsettling air– and when he turns to you, just as he's closing the Bible in his hand and setting it down, it sends a shiver through you.

"You're still here," Jeongin smiles at you from where he stands before the altar, centralized at the head of the church. It's a kind enough one, but you don't trust it; you can't shake the feeling that something lies beneath it– something abberant and dark that you can't place, but are certain is there.

"Do you wish to confess?" he asks, motions to the confessional booth with his hand as he tilts his head. "No," you answer, perhaps too quickly– and his smile grows ever so slightly, as if he's amused. At least, that's how you perceive his expression; and it makes you narrow your eyes at him, the distrust that radiates off you certainly palpable.

Your opinion of him is no secret, really; and he can tell you're scrutinizing him, trying to catch him in whatever act you think he's playing– it won't work, but it does humor him that you're trying. He doesn't know what sort of wild conclusions you've come to about him, but if you see anything, it'll be because he himself wanted you to see it– until then, you won't learn a single thing about who he truly is.

"Is there a reason you're still here then?" Jeongin questions next, and you swallow, hesitant to answer. Admittedly, you only stuck around in case someone did decide to go confess to him– you intended to eavesdrop, to try to listen in and find out what's really going on behind closed curtains.

It would've been massively immoral, but you would've confessed and asked for forgiveness later– privately, that is. You have no intention of seeking the Father's help in such matters, given how little trust you have towards him.

But still, despite the fact that you were willing to sneak around and listen to private conversations, you aren't entirely willing to lie in the house of God– so after some internal grappling with yourself on what you should and shouldn't do in this position, on what is right and wrong, you end up admitting the truth.

"I don't trust you," you tell Jeongin plainly, and you can swear you see him trying to suppress a smirk.

"I'm aware," he says, so matter of fact that it almost sends you reeling. And it's not that you were so disillusioned into thinking you weren't being obvious; you know very well that you weren't being the most covert in your suspicion of him– it's how unbothered and amused by it he seems to be that really gets you.

Shouldn't he be offended? Question your reasoning? Try immediately to dispel your doubts and clear up any misconceptions you may have? Instead, he seems more than ready to just accept it for what it is– even seems entertained by it.

"Does it not bother you that I don't trust you?" you ask, and he almost laughs as he shakes his head. "No. There's no reason for it to," he answers simply; and before you can ask why, or what he means, he's already answering– you suspect he could already tell you were going to press him on the matter.

"God teaches us to love one another. So even if you do not love me, or trust me, I love you, just as God instructs me to," Jeongin smiles as he speaks, and again, your brows furrow. It's a perfect answer, really– but it feels.. inorganic, almost rehearsed.

And the glimmer in his eye throws you off; it doesn't feel like the pure, honest delight you'd see on a priest putting God's word into practice. It feels mischievous, deceitful– like he doesn't believe an ounce of what he's saying, but he wants you to believe that he does.

"I know what you're thinking," he says, and you swallow, stiffening where you stand as he continues, "And if you really want to know what goes on during confession, want to see for yourself what it is I do to help the people who look to me, I can show you."

If you're being entirely honest, the offer is tempting; and strangely, it also makes you feel.. bad, almost– makes you second guess yourself. Because if he's freely offering like this, surely it can't be whatever you've been making it out to be in your head.

There's no way he'd out himself, and whatever it is he does, just to gain the trust of one person out of hundreds who doesn't believe his pure intentions. And maybe the other townsfolk really do trust him for good reason; maybe you've just been examining the situation and looking at Jeongin and the church in the wrong light.

Maybe you've been blowing everything out of proportion with obscene assumptions, and maybe he really is just a good priest. Maybe he makes you feel so seen, heard, and whole, that all your worldly problems melt away, feel trivial and light in comparison to God's plan for you.

Because after all, you are the outlier here. You're the only one in the whole town that doesn't trust him; and surely that means you're the one in the wrong. Jeongin does things differently than you're used to, but that doesn't mean he's inherently bad. And maybe you should confess– ask God to forgive you for not being receptive to the word of one of His servants.

Jeongin smiles when you concede and start to slowly step your way to the confessional. You pull back the curtain, step inside and prepare to sit in the small, wooden booth seat, but you quickly realize he's followed you inside. You gasp as you turn around, back pressing against the intricately carved hardwood window of the booth as he closes you in.

"Sh-Shouldn't you be on the other side?" you ask, much too meek for your liking. It's a cramped fit given that the booth is only meant to fit a single person on either side at a time; it makes you unconsciously hold your breath as you're effectively caged inside the booth with him– nowhere to go, and nothing you can do but stare at him, bewildered.

"No," he answers as quick and simple as before, his smile once again growing ever so slightly. And maybe you could push him, try to dart past him if you manage to successfully make him topple back, but you feel frozen– because even in the dark, barely lit confessional you're in, you're certain that you see his dull canines become long, pearly white fangs.

"Don't worry, it will only hurt for a second," he assures you as he brings his hands to your arms, gripping them just below your shoulder as he leans towards you. You shudder, his breath fanning your ear as he inches towards your neck, "but after that– it's bliss."

You feel the sharp points of his teeth poke at your skin, and it makes you gasp as your head tilts to the side, making room for him to sink his fangs into your flesh. Instinctively, your hands search for something to grab; you end up reaching for his shoulders, twisting your hands in his leather jacket to ground yourself as his sharp teeth pierce into your neck.

Your legs wobble, and he forces one of his own between your thighs, uses it to keep you upright as he drinks from you. And there is pain, but it really is only for a second, just like he said it’d be– within seconds it melts away, and oh, you instantly understand.

It’s much, much more than bliss– it’s ecstasy, it’s rhapsody, it’s the greatest pleasure you’ve ever felt. Spreading from your neck to every last nerve ending in your body, every atom of your body becomes alight with euphoria as his bite sends tingles throughout you, raising goosebumps along your skin.

You cry out, an embarrassingly loud sound that you barely recognize as your own voice as one of your hands finds its way to his head. Your fingers thread into his hair, hold him to your neck as if you don't want him to ever separate from you– and to be fair, maybe you don't.

It feels so good, so exhilarating, intoxicating, that you almost don't want the sensation to ever end. Jeongin meanwhile lets out delighted hums, eventually slowly retracting his fangs to latch his lips around the sensitive, bruising skin, his tongue lapping away at the blood that pours from the two little marks left behind.

The beating of your heart quickens, breaths quickly growing labored as the inexplicable want continues to seep into your veins. Your thighs tremble as tension builds deep in your gut, and they try to press together to seek relief, but Jeongin's leg stays firmly nestled between yours, preventing it.

And were you not so utterly blissed out, maybe the incessant, desperate throbbing of your pussy would make you feel ashamed– but all you can think about is the deep seated desire overtaking every receptor, every tiny cell, every molecule within you, as if the very chemistry that makes up your being has been altered for Jeongin alone.

Unable to resist, you rut against his thigh, entirely shameless and feverish– because it's all you have access to, all you can do to relieve the growing ache between your legs. It’s sinful, your growing lust is– and the last place you should ever be doing this is inside of a church; but you’re too far gone to care, too gripped by the need for stimulation.

Jeongin lets go of your arms, reaches between your bodies to hike up your church gown, giving you easier access to his lean, muscular thigh. He’s gracious, tugs your soaked panties to the side so your clit can catch on the denim of his jeans– and the delicious friction makes you moan for him, loud and sweet. 

He pulls away from your neck to watch your desperate humping, eyes gleaming with mischievous satisfaction as he watches you pleasure yourself on his thigh. His eyes are perfectly adapted to seeing in the low light, and so he can easily see every little detail of you– from the mess your pussy leaves behind on his jeans, to the sweat beginning to drip down your temple, to the trembling of your bottom lip before you tuck it between your teeth. 

And when he smiles at you now, it’s like the fox that got the rabbit; even in the extremely dim candle light you can see the way your blood coats his lips, messily dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. His dark eyes are gleaming– because he has you ensnared, and you both know there’s no going back. 

You untangle your fingers from his hair, and you watch as he reaches for your falling hand, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his mouth. He holds your gaze as he kisses over the pulsing vein, and it makes your breath hitch, the blood on his mouth smearing over the surface of your skin, staining it crimson. 

“Should I bite you here too?” he asks, placing another kiss over your vein before he shoots you a grin full of fang, “you’re so delicious– I want to taste you even more.” You gasp and squirm as Jeongin presses the tips of his bared fangs against your skin– not quite biting just yet, but it’s enough to spread another wave of tingles over your body. 

“Yes, bite me, please!” you cry, voice almost frantic in its urgency– and you can see the corners of Jeongin’s lips twisting into a devious smile before he’s obliging, burying his fangs deep into your wrist within an instant. You wince, your fingers clenching as he squeezes your wrist in his hand, keeping it tightly pressed to his mouth. 

And just as before, within seconds the sharp sting dulls and ebbs into incomparable pleasure, goosebumps spreading over every inch of your heated skin. Faintly, you can see your blood dribble past his lips, slowly flowing down the length of your forearm before it drips to the floor of the booth. 

You can just barely see his tongue licking over his bite, doing his best to collect all the blood that spills from you, and it's mesmerizing– especially when he brings his fingers to your arm to swipe up what his tongue misses. Your stomach flutters as you watch him separate from your wrist and bring his bloodied fingers to his mouth; they're so long, so pretty and enticing– you want them.

Jeongin can see it in your eyes– how brazenly you stare at his fingers, how your eyes follow every move he makes with them. You're still panting, sweating, chest heaving from the exertion, but the rutting of your hips has faltered; and he grins as he gazes at you. You're once again left with the feeling that he sees through you– that all it takes is a glance for him to know everything you're thinking.

"You want them? Want me to stuff your cunt full with my fingers? Make you cum all over them?" he asks, entirely rhetorical; he already knows the answer. And he likes the way you writhe over the question, how you gasp over the sinful words he so freely spills in such a sacred place, your ears positively burning.

Even if your face didn't obviously show your desires, you don't think you'd be able to deny them; you've never wanted anything as badly as you want this, want him. It should make your gut twist with shame, because deep down you know this is wrong, know that you shouldn't want him to touch you as badly as you do– but the craving for Jeongin to bring you pleasure is almost primal, so deep and innate that your rational mind can't even hope to fight against it.

Slowly, almost playfully, he trails his fingertips over your thigh, and the anticipation is enough to make you unconsciously hold your breath. "You're so fucking messy," Jeongin says as he brushes his fingers over your soaking, sensitive clit, "so wet– you're a dirty girl, huh?"

You want to whine, want to shake your head and vehemently deny that you're dirty, attest to being a good, honest, and God fearing– but you're so overcome with your desire for him to touch you, that you don't. Instead you agree, concede that you are dirty, and messy, and that you want him more explicitly than you feel your own words could ever attest.

How easily you agree to being dirty seems to please him– and with a light chuckle, he slips his hand further down while carefully removing his leg from between your thighs. You wobble a bit when the support of his leg is gone, but he's quick to wrap an arm around you to hold you, effortlessly keeping you upright with the strength innate to who, or rather what, he is.

The cool, silver band that he wears on his pinky makes you jolt when it touches your feverishly hot thigh, and he chuckles again as he spreads your folds with his fingers. You're dripping for him, so slick with arousal that it hardly takes any effort at all for Jeongin's fingers to become coated with your juices.

You rock your hips against his hand, wordlessly begging him to give you what it is you crave most. "Oh look at you, so impatient, so desperate," he laughs as he presses the pads of his fingers to your hole, delighting in the way you look at him with glassy eyes and pinched brows.

It's obscene how badly you want him; you've never felt this needy, never been rendered so desperate for stimulation– and you're in a confessional of all places. This is the very last place on earth you should feel this way, or be doing something like this, and yet the shame you should feel is far from your mind– because all you can think about is your need for his beautiful fingers to fill you up and dull the throbbing ache between your legs.

Jeongin coos when you start to beg for his fingers, a rambling string of "please," and "want it, want you," and "need it so bad." You can tell how much satisfaction it gives him, and if your mind weren't so hazy from desire you'd certainly feel embarrassment build and twist from deep in your gut– but any such feelings are silenced by your body's need for his touch, by your craving for the sensations that only he can grant you.

It takes your breath away when he easily sinks two fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out slowly until he curls and bends them to find the spot that makes you see stars. "That's it, there you go," he grins when he finds it. He watches your eyes roll back, your hands clutching at his jacket as he continues to press the tips of his fingers into your most sensitive spot.

He returns to your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin and nipping it with sharp teeth before he kisses and licks over the bruises he leaves behind. He applies pressure to your swollen clit with his thumb while relentlessly targeting your spot, an easy task for him thanks to the length of his fingers, and his hold on you tightens when the shaking in your legs grows more intense.

You're so, so close, and Jeongin can tell too– not just from how your pussy pulses and squeezes around his fingers, but because he can hear the loud, erratic thumping of your heart, as well as the rush of blood pulsing in your veins. "C'mon, let go– cum, you can do it, cum for me," he urges, speaking softly against the shell of your ear while swirling his thumb over your clit.

"There you go, good girl, just like that," he praises as you string out a loud succession of whimpers, your thighs closing tight around his hand as your high finally takes you. Your world feels like it’s spinning, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you ride out your high, your release gushing messily around his fingers.

His hand stays in place until your thighs untense, and he’s careful as he slips his fingers out of you, though you can’t help but shiver and whine from the sensitivity regardless. You're unsteady on your feet following your orgasm, but Jeongin makes sure you don't fall over; he keeps his grip on your firm, carefully helps you turn away from where you were pressed against the carved window to sit in the booth's only seat.

He wipes the sweat from your forehead after you sit, leans down to fix and smooth over the skirt of your church gown as you try your best to collect your breath and calm your racing heart. He's reverted back to his kindly priest persona it seems– you can tell by the warm smile he offers when you look at him, his sharp fangs fully retracted.

Still, bits of your blood remain smeared over his lips– clear evidence that he isn't the saintly man he portrays himself to be. You watch breathlessly as Jeongin licks the last of it from his lips before he pulls back the curtain of the confessional booth.

He offers you his hand after it seems like you've recovered enough to stand again; your own hand trembles as you accept it, and with his assistance, you rise carefully from your seat.

You're a bit dizzy when you stand, equal parts consequence of blood loss and the euphoria still lingering and tingling in your veins, but you're otherwise steady; and he smiles as he squeezes your hand in his, the other coming to rest on the small of your back as you take your first step out of the booth.

"Come back to confession again sometime," Jeongin says with his characteristically deceitful, charming smile, knowing full well that you will. Humans always find the sensation of his venom irresistible, always become addicted to it once they've felt it– and you'll be no different. "I'll be waiting for you."

[ikeasharksss]

hey im curious

feel free to rb & explain your answer in the tags!

[bitterie-sweetie]

Fake it til you make it

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader Genre: fluff, fake dating WC: 6.5k Warnings: alcohol A/N: yes it's about vday buuut it's actually for @syuperseventeen's bdayyy!!! surprise surprise! happy birthday nat, i hope this year is even better and filled with many things to look forward to <3

Your Valentine’s date with Jeonghan is coming up and yet the only thing on your mind is how to break up with him. Of course breaking up with someone is difficult, but you’d argue that what’s more difficult is breaking up with someone you never even dated.

Jeonghan is a prankster. 

Growing up, you’d often be on the receiving end of his pranks at school. Third grade “initiation” had you drenched in water after he told you to pin a cup against the wall with a straw, and in ninth grade you had tears streaming down your face after eating an entire scoop of wasabi—not the matcha ice cream he said it was. Then there was the time he did something to make your first crush hate you, which, in hindsight, was a good thing because the guy turned out to be a total asshole. 

It wasn’t Jeonghan’s fault entirely when you were too willing to fall for his pranks because being the target of a prank meant having his attention, and that’s something that you wanted. Jeonghan had a way of making everyone feel special, and his attention was a limelight that you never wanted to step out of. 

Honestly, you might’ve kept up with it if he kept going. But then that fateful day came and it was like you were suddenly on his side, working with him instead of being the victim to his antics, and you’d say that that’s what has kept the two of you together after all these years. 

Well, at least until now.

“Hey,” you greet in a rush, looking around the table at everyone and seeing that you’re truly the last one to arrive. Usually, you’d give that place to Lee Chan; he’s the most popular of your friend group and almost always has a prior appointment to your meetups. “Sorry I’m late. My train was delayed and—oh, did you already order for me?” 

Jeonghan slides a sealed bubble tea across the table and sets it in front of your seat—the one empty chair right beside him, no less. When you glance at him questioningly he shrugs and tilts his head towards the crowd at the front. “The line was too long so I ordered yours with mine. Hope you’re feeling like your usual today.” 

Indeed, the sticker on the cup shows that it’s your go-to order. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you. Thanks, babe.” 

Today’s meet up with your friend group is the first of the year and it’s also the first time you’re seeing everyone since Chan’s wedding… including Jeonghan. You would’ve spent Christmas and New Year’s with him had he not cancelled on you, and now that bit of distance has manifested into a larger uncertainty for you over the past while. Even now, the ‘babe’ seemed to come out awkwardly, sticking to your throat.

“Wow, you guys are actually disgusting. I hope you know that.” Seungkwan makes a face at you, and beside him, Soonyoung nods a few times in agreement. 

You plaster on a smile. “It’s okay to just say you’re jealous.” 

The only response you get is an eye-roll from Soonyoung, and then everyone moves on, thankfully. Mingyu asks you what you’ve been up to so you talk about your recent promotion at work and some new habits you’ve started in the new year, and when you sense that the conversation is starting to approach the territory of your future with Jeonghan, you gently steer it towards Chan. After all, he’s the one that got married just a few months ago, and you know he would never miss the chance to talk about his amazing honeymoon and how great this new chapter of his life is going.

There is truly nothing like adult friendships and its quarterly updates. 

Once there’s a bit of a lull in the conversation, Jeonghan turns to you. “What are you doing this week?” 

“Oh, this week?” Your heart speeds up tenfold at the uncertainty of what might come next. “Hmm well, it’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“Yeah, exactly.” He nods and much to your relief, there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. “So I’ll see you for our date then?” 

“Of course, babe.” 

“Can’t you guys do this somewhere else?” Soonyoung says as he stares daggers in your direction. You totally understand and sympathize with that though; today you’re turning up the sweetness more than usual to compensate for the distance you actually feel, unfortunately at the expense of your friends.

Jeonghan completely ignores Soonyoung’s complaint and doesn’t even look his way. “That’s good,” he says, leaning back in his seat and almost looking relieved at your answer. “I was afraid my darling might not have time for me anymore.”

“What? No way. Did you have anything in mind for our date?” 

“Hmm, yes but it’s a surprise. I’ll text you the details later.” 

“Well, uh, I have to run,” Chan says, slowly getting up from his seat. The rest of you hardly bat an eye, having gotten too used to his busy schedule. “It was nice seeing everyone. You guys should come over for my housewarming once everything is set up.” 

Mingyu stands up too. “Oh, I actually have to go too; got a dinner with Wonwoo later.” 

…On second thought, perhaps you overcompensated a bit too much with the cringe. Soonyoung and Seungkwan leave soon after getting a call from their roommate, Seokmin, and then it’s just you and Jeonghan at the table. Still seated side by side, your arm occasionally brushing against his. 

“How have you really been?” he asks in a low voice. 

“Decent, I guess, despite the winter blues and all. It’s pretty much what I said earlier.” You shrug when he remains silent. “Why do you ask? Do I look depressed or something?”   

“No,” he shakes his head with a laugh, “not depressed, exactly, but I wanted to see if you’re as sad as I am about not seeing each other in so long.” Then he leans in a bit closer, as if to whisper a secret. “I missed you, darling.”

It’s times like this when you feel like he’s toeing the line. There’s a small smile lingering on his lips and a softer look in his eyes, not at all like the overdone sweetness to the point of sarcasm from before, but you can never tell if he really means what he says or if this is just part of the act. 

Regardless, it makes your face feel hot and it makes you unable to look directly at him. 

“Oh… yeah,” you say, trying to make a quick recovery. “It’s too bad we missed out on the holidays but at least we get Valentine’s Day.” 

“Yup, that’s exactly why I have something special in mind for that day. I want to make it up to you, darling.” 

You give him a smile and then go to take a sip of your drink, and that’s pretty much the end of the conversation. Despite saying he misses you, it’s interesting how he doesn’t explain why he bailed on the holidays in the first place, and you don’t know whether you should ask about it at this point.

Or if you should even be curious about such a thing. 

Jeonghan pulls you out of your thoughts with a brush of his hand on yours. “It’s getting dark. Let’s head out?” 

You agree and then let him hold your hand, lace his fingers with yours, and then lead you out of the shop. He doesn’t let go until you cross the parking lot and get to his car. It’s strange, you think. You can’t seem to recall the last time the two of you held hands so naturally like this especially when there’s no one else around. 

In fact, when the two of you are alone, the sickening sweetness is always toned down but not completely dropped. Now, Jeonghan’s smiles are softer around the edges like they’re less exaggerated, less of a performance, and when he calls you darling, his voice is quieter and isn’t at all coated in the sticky honey you’re used to. When he hugs you goodbye at your door, it’s a loose hug and almost has a degree of uncertainty. 

Jeonghan steps back but lingers just for a second. “I’ll see you in a few days for our date, darling.”

“Of course,” you put on a smile, “I can’t wait, babe.” 

He waits until you get into your building before giving a little wave and then heading on his way. 

After you close the door behind you and collapse onto your bed, you heave a sigh and finally let the smile slip from your lips. So there would be a Valentine’s date this year after all; the anticipation makes your heart speed up the slightest but at the same time makes you all the more anxious. You thought that he really would end things today, and if not, that you should be the one to do so. But seeing him after so long, feeling the way the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin, basking in the brightness of his smiles, you simply couldn’t utter those words. 

Perhaps Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be the right time to do it either, or maybe your date won’t end up happening for whatever reason. You know that this is something you have to do, but the question is how exactly would you go about doing it? Because there is one major problem. 

You’re not dating Jeonghan at all. 

One moment in high school is what started this whole thing.

It was eleventh grade drama class—which Jeonghan thought would be fun to take as an elective—that resulted in the two of you being cast in the school play. Although neither of you landed a role that was remotely close to important, Jeonghan decided to have fun with it and improvise during your one minute of screen time and that somehow turned your insignificant cameos into a beautiful romance that had the audience rooting for you. 

And that very moment somehow managed to embed itself so deeply in your relationship with Jeonghan that it became a long running joke to this day. 

Today you’re sitting across from Soonyoung and Seungkwan again, with Mingyu beside you this time. Almost an exact replica of last week’s meetup, but Chan already has plans and Jeonghan is very obviously missing—something Soonyoung points out immediately.

“Wow, no Jeonghan today?” he says loudly even before the hostess is out of earshot. The people at the two tables nearby glance in your direction and you start to regret coming here at all. “We really won this one. Y/N, we should do this more often.” 

You definitely should not. “Um, yeah. Totally.” 

Last week’s meeting with your friends is what gave you the idea to consult with them about your situation. You first suggested the idea to Mingyu, and then used the prospect of free food to get Soonyoung and Seungkwan to come out, and naturally, Chan is busy so it ends up being the four of you at brunch. Which is better on your wallet, you think. You get the feeling that this quarterly meetup can totally happen more often if you were to make this offer every time. 

As for what you’re about to ask… well, truthfully, you still don’t know if you should even do it. You’ve gone so many years without saying a word that it’d simply be odd to ask now, plus you would run the risk of making everything weird. But if you don’t do it, you would only end up making it weird anyway because how much longer can you go on pretending?

Besides, it’s not only you and Jeonghan who are prolonging this inside joke for way longer than it should’ve lasted. All of your friends should be in on it if they treat the two of you like a couple too. 

The waiter comes by to take your orders, and you try not to wince at the entire list that comes out of Soonyoung and Seungkwan’s mouths. Mingyu gets the least, seemingly knowing that something is up if the worried glances he throws your way is anything to go by. 

Once the waiter leaves, that’s when the small talk stops and all eyes turn to you.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Soonyoung asks with a goofy grin. “Since Jeonghan’s not here, does that mean you need help with Valentine’s Day plans or something?” 

Beside him, Seungkwan has the complete opposite expression as he eyes you warily between sips of his americano.

You take a huge swig of water like it’s liquid courage, and then go for it. “This is going to sound weird…” you start, trying not to notice the way Seungkwan tenses up as if bracing for your words, “but I wanted to ask you guys what my relationship with Jeonghan is.” 

Silence. Complete, dead silence. 

Soonyoung freezes like he’s in a photograph while Seungkwan’s hand holding his americano hangs in mid air as a drop of the drink dribbles down the side of his lip. 

“Sorry, what?” It’s Soonyoung who recovers first. “I think I heard that wrong.” 

You shake your head. “Just tell me.” 

“You’re asking us what your relationship with your own boyfriend is?” 

“Boyfriend—exactly!” You have to hold back all the thoughts you have on the topic. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. So you think he’s my boyfriend? That we’re dating?” 

Soonyoung frowns but it’s Seungkwan who answers, exasperated. “Y/N, what are you trying to say here? Are you trying to say you guys broke up? Or do you think we don’t know you well enough and this is a test? Can you say whatever it is directly—” 

“Jeonghan and I aren’t together.”

There, you said it. Your biggest secret is out.

It should make you relieved to finally let out the secret you’ve been harbouring for years or it should at least alleviate some of the weight on your chest, but it doesn’t. The silence in the wake of your confession only closes in on you and makes it all the more suffocating.

“Any—anymore?”

“No. We were never together.”

The bit of silence from earlier repeats itself. Maybe you should become a speaker or presenter with your ability to draw such reactions from a crowd.

Seungkwan noisily sets down his drink and then leans forward with a frown. He’s still in denial, that much is obvious, and he narrows his eyes as he asks, “Is this a joke? A hidden camera? Are you trying to prank us like Jeonghan—”

“No, I’m completely serious. It’s really not what it seems, and this is why I’m asking you guys what you see us as because at this point I don’t even know the answer myself.” 

With a deep breath, you tell them the truth about this entire thing.

You tell them about the high school play and your impromptu acting, and how that led for the two of you to become the famous couple at school afterwards. Sure, it might’ve been a good thing because that meant your acting was believable. But to two people who were interested in just about anything except love at that age, it was annoying and gross. 

After the show when the shippers wouldn’t stop, the two of you decided to do what you do best—pull a prank. You spent that Valentine’s Day together as a joke and acted extra disgusting to mock couples while making fun of how stupid people were to believe whatever you showed them. In twelfth grade, the two of you did the same for Valentine’s Day and then even went to prom together as a joke. 

In recent years, however, the annual joke of a Valentine’s Day date has turned into his Christmas and your Lunar New Year, his cousin’s graduation, your coworker’s housewarming, and Lee Chan’s wedding. It’s made you on a texting basis with his sister and it’s made him familiar with all your favourite food spots and go-to orders. It’s turned him into someone who’s simultaneously as distant as an acquaintance yet closer than a best friend. 

And so, here you are, living an entire lie because you and Jeonghan had the whole world fooled.

“That’s insane,” Soonyoung says when you finally finish the story, unable to look your way and instead, stares into his drink with how mind blown he is.

Seungkwan, on the other hand, remains a bit skeptical. “Okay, but then what was with all that PDA?All the kissing? Is this some sort of situationship?” 

“Oh, um.” Immediately you can feel your cheeks heating up. You didn’t think this far at all but now it seems like the entire truth will have to come out. “All of it was fake. We’ve… never actually kissed.” 

That drama class has taught you more than you needed to know about manipulating angles and the audience’s perception, and Jeonghan is very good at it. Your fake kisses were often just a trick of the angle or occasionally using the thumb trick, and having seen the evidence captured in photos over the years, you know how convincing it can look.

Now, it’s embarrassing to admit for reasons you never would’ve imagined. Admitting to pulling a childish prank like this is one thing, but the realization that you and Jeonghan have faked it for so long without ever once making it real has you feeling almost dejected.

“I always knew Jeonghan was crazy but I didn’t know he’d be *this* crazy.” Soonyoung now has his head in his hands and is staring off into space. “This is the most insane story I’ve ever heard. I’m not sure if I should be happy for you or sad.” 

You give a wry smile. “Yeah, well, I get why you would think we were together though. You met us in college and wouldn’t have known about what happened in the past so I guess there would never be a reason to question it.” 

Beside you, Mingyu clears his throat and you turn to look at him. He’s been so quiet throughout your story that you were too busy focusing on the reactions of the other two, but looking at him now, his reaction is entirely different. Mingyu isn’t as surprised as he is concerned. “Actually, Y/N, a few years ago…” he says hesitantly, “there was a time when I asked him if you were actually dating.” 

“You did? What did he say?”

“He didn’t deny it.”

“Well, we all know how he loves to be ambiguous and leave things a mystery.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “No—see, that’s what I thought too, but it was different that time. At first he didn’t deny it, but when I pushed a bit more, he said that you’re dating. In actual words and with the most serious look I’ve ever seen on his face.” 

This is news to you. You always assumed that they were all in on the joke and would’ve never guessed that anyone actually asked Jeonghan, but the fact that he answered that way is all the more baffling. 

“I don’t get it. Why would he tell you that?” 

“Yeah, so,” Soonyoung says, “from then on we all thought that was fully confirmed, and he never said or implied otherwise.” 

“Right…”

Mingyu nudges you gently. “Y/N, are you telling us about this now because you’re planning on stopping the act? Has it been bothering you? Or did something happen?” 

“Is that why you wanted to tell us today?” Soonyoung lets out a dramatic gasp and leans all the back in his chair, hands over his mouth. “Don’t tell me—are you going to stop the act because you have a crush on someone?”

“What? No, definitely not. It’s not that, it’s—” 

Here’s the next part of your big secret being revealed, something you weren’t entirely ready for but you tell yourself that this needs to happen. 

It’s because of your feelings for Jeonghan. Your very real, very genuine feelings that have nothing to do with this prank.

Truthfully, you can’t pinpoint when you started feeling this way, much like you’re not sure how this joke was able to stick around for so long. It could be the most recent development—when your friend tried to convince you to hop on a dating app, all you could think about was how wrong it felt because you already had Jeonghan. Or maybe it was the Valentine’s Day just before college graduation when he leaned in so closely you thought he was going to kiss you, for real this time, and then only realizing much later that you were disappointed that it wasn’t real. 

Or perhaps it started way back, to the time he asked you to prom—he said he didn’t have a date only for you to later find out he’d already rejected two promposals from other people. All for your fake relationship, supposedly.

And now, for you, what has started as a harmless prank has turned into something much more than that over the years. 

Everyone looks like they're at a loss for words after that part, and even Soonyoung has lost his enthusiasm after hearing it. “Shit, that’s…” he starts. “Okay, yeah, I’m definitely sad for you.” 

Seungkwan and Mingyu have similar sentiments but you wave them off, eager to lighten the mood again after such heavy topics. The food on the table has been long finished and you’re beginning to feel like you’re overstaying your welcome when there’s a crowd waiting at the front of the restaurant. “It’s fine, it’s whatever. I just wanted to get this off my chest today so that I can figure things out before I see him in a few days.” 

A while later, you finish paying and then all head out together. 

The conversation continues to replay itself in your head, and you realize there is one thing you’re curious about. You turn to Mingyu. “By the way—Mingyu, why *did* you ask Jeonghan if we were actually dating?”

Mingyu stops mid-stride and freezes like a deer in headlights, clearly not expecting your question at all. “I—um, I was asking for a friend.” 

“A friend?”

“Yeah, Chan.” He nods a few times in a row. “I thought Chan had a crush on you and I was trying to help him out.”

Strange, seeing as you’ve probably interacted with Chan the least among your friend group. He’s simply too booked and busy to hang out with you, and has been all throughout your college years together. 

Oh, and he’s married.

“Like, before he met his wife?” you ask.

Soonyoung starts to cough furiously from where he is a few steps ahead while Mingyu’s cheeks redden the slightest bit. 

You vaguely remember the first time the two of you did this, and how it wasn’t anything like how it’s going now. 

Tonight is the night you’re supposed to go on your date with Jeonghan, and you’ve been buzzing with nerves since the night before. You have no idea what to expect for tonight since all he told you about it was to show up at his apartment, and that in itself was slightly concerning as you’ve never been to his home before nor has he been so secretive about any plans. Usually the two of you would be going to a casual place or would have the schedule shared ahead of time if it was a more formal event that needed preparation. 

Jeonghan buzzes you in when you arrive and before you can say you’ll wait for him in the lobby, he tells you to go up to his unit. Again, a bit strange. You do as he asks though, and then even go to knock on the door when there’s no sign of him coming out.

When he opens the door and steps aside, that’s when everything clicks—you’re not here so that he can get his car and take you to your date location. This *is* the date location.

Beyond the doorway, you can see that his apartment is completely decorated. Rose petals line the sides of the hall and lead to the dining table, covered in a deep red tablecloth and perfectly set for your meal. Beside it, a large bouquet of roses rests at the center of the sideboard surrounded by a row of flickering candles which light up the space.

Even without knowing what his home normally looks like, it’s obvious that all this would’ve taken a lot of effort to set up.

“Jeonghan, why did you prepare all this?”

He gives you a dazzling smile. “Because my darling deserves the best, of course. I told you I was going to make it up to you for cancelling Christmas.” 

“Babe, that’s too sweet of you. You really didn’t have to.” You try to return his smile but it doesn’t come easy when this whole situation is overwhelming. Then you let him take your coat and then guide you to the dining table where everything is set up. 

Only when you’re seated do you realize that his response doesn’t answer your question at all. 

The scent of the roses fill the room and looking at them gives you a pang in your heart. This is what the two of you used to make fun of—these big, romantic gestures, and the couples that willingly eat them up. Now it’s as if the tables have turned and you don’t know what to think. 

If this were in public, in front of your friends or other people, you would’ve said that it was another funny gesture that Jeonghan put up for the sake of making them cringe. Because the two of you were the perfect joking, prankster couple, right? 

Now that it’s just you and him here, it confuses you as to why he’s going to such lengths for a joke when it’s something that no one else would see, when there’s no audience to watch his performance. 

You watch as Jeonghan busies himself in the kitchen, serving the food that he’s prepared and pouring the wine into glasses while glancing your way every once in a while. He looks pleased, you note, and he should be if he got his space to look this beautiful. But you can sense that there’s something else too, almost like a nervousness that sits on his shoulder every time he breezes past you and makes eye contact for the briefest second.

After everything is ready, he finally takes a seat across from you and the dinner begins.

Making small talk is easy at first; you comment on your surprise at this type of date, talk about how cold it’s been lately and how it sucks that your company is forcing you to go back into the office. You ask him how his holiday went and how his family has been, and mention how cute his sister’s new puppy is after seeing a post about it on her social media. 

You know you’re just delaying the inevitable. Somehow you get the feeling he knows it too, judging by the way his answers are shorter than usual and how your conversation feels so superficial. So this time after there’s a lull in the conversation, you decide to go for it.

"Jeonghan, um…"

"Hmm?" He looks at you and waits for you to continue, but you don't. Or rather, you can't. "Ah, you're going to comment on how good this is, right?" he says instead, as if supplying you with a way out.

You're all too eager to grab onto it. "Wow, you read my mind." An enthusiastic nod, a slight look of surprise. "It's amazing. Did you make all this yourself?"

Jeonghan shakes his head and then follows up with a sheepish smile. "Partly. The rest is store bought."

Another nod, and then it just ends there again. Seated in this spot with the soft lighting of flickering candles cast against the wall and the heat of Jeonghan's gaze on you, the feeling of discomfort only grows. It's hard to remember what the two of you were like before, during the days when everything seemed so silly–when each move was a clearly defined act between two actors and the world was your stage. And most importantly, when each smile he showed you didn't send your stomach into somersaults or your mind into a loop of second guessing. 

The air is so heavy and stifling that you grab your glass and down a large gulp of the wine. At least when you're drinking, you wouldn’t have to speak, whether that might be responding to him in a way that gives away all of your thoughts, or completely spilling them out yourself. Maybe the alcohol will also drown out some of your anxieties and–

"Hey, slow down." Jeonghan glances at you with worry. "We have all night."

You set the glass down, albeit a bit reluctantly. "Right, sorry. This wine is just so good."

Yet another lie, but what's one more at this point? The wine is much too sour and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You would've much preferred a soda or bubble tea, and drinking something fancy like this during such a fancy occasion makes you feel like you're pretending to be someone you're not.

Which is exactly what you're doing, isn't it? You've been living a lie this entire time.

You briefly wonder if Jeonghan feels the same way—the two of you have never properly spent time alone in complete privacy, and to have your first time be in such a formal atmosphere must feel strange. But if he's uncomfortable, he makes no sign of showing it. Or maybe he's always been the better actor of the two of you.

“You know, since you mentioned seasonal depression, I was thinking that for Christmas this year we should go somewhere. Somewhere warm and sunny to get away from the cold.”

“Oh, this year?” you repeat stupidly when you can’t quite believe what you’re hearing. Jeonghan wants to continue this thing? And here you were, thinking that he was about to end it at any moment for the past few months. “Um, yeah. That would be nice.” 

“Or it could be a fall trip. Your parents have been wanting to go see the leaves change colour, right?” 

There’s no hint of sarcasm on his face and no playful twinkle in his eye, and even though no one can read him very well, you know enough to tell that he’s being serious. You also know that what he’s saying makes no sense at all.

“Right, yeah. They’ve been wanting to do that.” 

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply automatically, and then reach for another long gulp of your drink. “Yup, all good.”

Jeonghan frowns, a tiny crease appearing between his brows. “Are you sure? If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.” 

It’s strange, the way he looks at you. Jeonghan, who dances around questions and deflects easily with humour and only shows people what he wants them to see, now has worry filling his eyes as he waits for you to continue. As if he *knows*.

You doubt Soonyoung and Seungkwan would have spilled your secret so easily, but there’s a great possibility that the two of them would be unable to act normal around him after what they learned, and unintentionally hint at the truth. Then there’s the other possibility that Jeonghan knew way before any of this. Because maybe he—

No, you don’t want to think about that.

“It’s just that,” you say, having to force yourself to pause and slow down your thoughts before something terrible comes spewing out. A slow inhale, a shaky exhale. “Why are we here, Jeonghan?”

His frown deepens, but now it’s turned into confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What are we doing? This date has been nice, but I’m just very confused over why you put so much effort into this when there’s no one else around to see it. Weren’t we doing all of this as a joke? As a prank? Pretending to be a couple so that we can fool the world since that’s exactly what they wanted to see, but joke’s on them because we’re not?” 

Jeonghan watches you silently with an unreadable look on his face. “Is that how you feel?”

“’Well, yes, because isn’t that the truth? And now, we’ve been doing so much together that it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. How can it be when your mom is offering to give me homemade side dishes? Or—or when Chan’s wife was there, smiling at us on her wedding day like she wished we’d be just as happy as they are?” You pause to look at him and then proceed to look away. “How long are we going to continue lying to the world? Because I can’t stand the guilt.”

The last part of that may be true, but it’s not the full truth. 

“Yeah, you’re right. We don’t have to keep doing this.”

“W—what?” You stare at him, dumbfounded. 

Jeonghan sighs deeply and then meets your eyes, but then quickly looks away. “Yeah, we should’ve left this in high school. The joke has kind of gotten old, hasn’t it?” 

You have no idea what he means by any of that, but it feels like you’re better off not knowing. The tension in the air is thick, and even when you imagined your fake breakup hundreds of times in your head, this is not something you could have predicted. It’s as you’re on a precipice, and one wrong move will delete all those years, all that time you spent with him. 

And the worst part is that you don’t even want to break up.

“Jeonghan, look. I know all of this is supposed to be a joke, but why is it that it feels like you really do care?” One last deep breath before you make the jump. “And why is it that I *want* you to care?” 

That has him stunned for a second, so much that the expression is obvious on his face in a way that almost never happens. 

“Wait, what? I do care. No, I get that we started all this for fun back then, but that’s not how I feel about it now. Everything we’ve done is real—trust me, I wouldn’t have brought you to my family if that wasn’t the case. And I never thought I was lying to them. It’s exaggerated, yes, and much too dramatic, but I’m not a good enough actor where all that can be based on a complete lie.” 

You braced yourself for the final blow, only to be completely confused over his words. “What are you saying?” 

“Y/N, it’s always been real to me. All of it.” 

“But—but I thought you wanted to stop all this when you cancelled our plans for Christmas. Why did you do that?”

Jeonghan opens his mouth a little but then closes it again. “Do you remember last year at Chan’s wedding when you caught the bouquet?” 

You nod but don’t hide your confusion about where this is going.

“After you caught it, everyone was looking at you… and then at me. It was like they all expected us to be next, because well,” he shrugs, “everyone thought we were together. And that’s when I realized that this is more than simply feeling like it’s real. We were turning it into something real.”

“So you called off Christmas because you wanted to stop doing this? Because you hated how it was becoming real?” 

“No,” Jeonghan shakes his head. “The opposite. I was afraid of how much I liked that it felt real. That day at the wedding, I—I wanted to kiss you for real, Y/N. Not have to fake it.” 

“Oh…”

“If we did meet up for Christmas, I don’t know what might’ve happened. I thought it was safer to stay away for a bit and gather my thoughts.” He hesitates slightly and you can see the pained smile he has on. “But one day into the holidays and I was already regretting my decision.” 

You don’t know what to say to that. Your mind is hardly listening anymore when it keeps on repeating Jeonghan’s words like a broken record, screaming to you that it’s real, that all of it is real. That you’re not the only one who’s been feeling this way, and that you won’t need to stage a fake breakup for your fake relationship. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“I’m just—are you sure all this is real? Jeonghan, are you being serious?”

He breaks into a tender smile. “Don’t you remember? I already answered you back then, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You asked me if I’d be your darling, even if thousands of miles may separate us, even if—” 

“—if the paths we walk may crumble,” you finish off. “Or something like that. I actually have no idea what we said back then.”

Those were the lines in the play that you did back in high school, the very lines that the two of you conjured out of thin air one day and the very moment that started this whole thing. 

“Yeah, that,” he says softly.

“Hmm, so, babe,” you put on your usual mockingly sweet tone, repeating the line that you said on stage many years ago, “are you going to kiss me?” 

Jeonghan holds back a smile like he can’t contain his happiness, and follows with his line without missing a beat. “If that’s what my darling wants.”

The smile only widens when he gets up from his seat and you go to meet him halfway, and it’s the last thing you see when he leans in closer and closer. Jeonghan gently slides his thumb between his lips and yours as he closes the distance, like how it was done the very first time, but this time you can feel it as he slowly moves it away. 

Then you’re kissing him, actually kissing him for real for the first time. His lips are soft and warm, and the bit of hesitance between you seems to completely melt away as you wrap your arms around him and he pulls you closer. You let yourself drown in his scent, the warmth of his touch, and the loud pounding of your heart now that you no longer have to be paying attention to the reactions of the people around you. Nothing else matters anymore, all that matters is what you have now.

You spend the rest of the night catching up, whether that’d be stories over the years of shared memories, or creating new memories to make up for the lost time. He tells you he loves you and that the trip suggestions were very much real, and the two of you laugh over how you’ve become the exact couple you once mocked. It’s easy to understand them now though, you think as Jeonghan gives you a sleepy smile as you’re cuddled up on the couch.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask something,” you say, and he looks at you in alarm at your abruptness. “Why did you tell Mingyu that we were together?”

Jeonghan stays silent for a bit, narrowing his eyes as if having difficulty recalling what you’re talking about. Then he finally answers. “Oh that?” He chuckles. “That was because I didn’t want him to think he had a chance with you.”

[gazspookiebear]

Thinking about waiting for Ghost to be ready for a relationship (kind of continued from this post

(Kinda angsty, self doubt/depreciating thoughts)

When you ask 'What are we?', he panics. He doesn't know. He isn't ready to be a boyfriend, to meet your parents, to open up about his life-

His internal monolog is interrupted by your hand on top of his own. He hadn't realized how anxious he must have appeared- sweaty, hands trembling, shallow breaths, the works. He felt like he was being strangled, and all of this was over a simple question. Why did he ever think he could do this?

You tell him it's okay. You tell him you don't need an answer now if he's not ready. You say that you're fine with the way things are, and if he isn't ready to move forward yet, you'll wait for him.

You tell him you'll always love him regardless.

The world might as well have stopped spinning, because you love him?

He wants to tell you he loves you too, but he's scared. He's still waiting for you to leave. For him to lose feelings. For this to all have been a huge waste of time, or for you to realize you deserve better as soon as he confesses how he really feels.

For a split second, he thinks about leaving. About ghosting you. Maybe even breaking up with you- but that would require him to admit there was something there in the first place. It felt like you had snaked your way around his heart and were squeezing with all your might.

God, he couldn't imagine himself without you. He felt like a fool, naive and childish all over again. Why were you so patient with him? Couldn't you see there was something rotting inside of him?

Once again, he's dragged out of his mind by your presence. You look worried. He can't fathom why you would be worried about him. Nonetheless, he squeezes your hand in return. A simple gesture, but it means the world to you. You know he's trying. You know he's fighting with himself and losing half the battles.

You're determined to win the war.

[littlemissemeritus]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡,, // 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

we've all heard the drunk copia headcanon, right? well, as a writer, i feel it my obligation to make it a reality >:3

warnings; dry humping, copia being a sexy little freak, jerking off, praise, voyuerism, badly google translated italian

author's note; hello ghumblr!! lowkey kinda terrified to post this but, here it goes!! please drop any constructive criticism in the comments n like & reblog if u enjoyed <3

divider by @gothdaddyissues !!

It had been a long time since you'd attended a party within the Ministry's walls but you could safely say you were enjoying it. Even though it was a silly costume party to mark the end of the October season, everybody had dressed to the nines in an effort to wave off the spooky month.

Terzo was dressed in his obnoxious pink and white suit, a pair of dark sunglasses tucked in the neck of his polo shirt as he whispered something in the Sister's ear beside him. The young girl began to giggle and blush, kissing at his neck affectionately. You knew Sins of the Flesh were encouraged in this building, but the bold display had you hot under the collar.

Well, if you had a collar. You were currently wearing a short and tight rendition of a standard devil costume, a tail pinned to the base of your spine and false teeth pressed to your pearly whites. It was your friends' idea, not your own, the group of you dressed like you had walked straight out of a cathouse.

Everything was running smoothly as expected, the music pumping and drinks being poured out haphazardly, the floor beside the punch bowl was almost sticky with alcohol. But, you had noticed one difference; the absence of The Cardinal. You had to refrain from calling him your Cardinal, having never spoken more than 3 words to the gorgeous man. You knew he was shy, adverse to parties and honestly shocked that Terzo had managed to convinced him to come but his sudden disappearance worried you.

Leaning against the marble wall beside an ornate window, twirling your tail fabric in your hand your eyes scanned the party just in case you missed him tucked away in the corner. Giving up with a sigh, you lifted your red cup to your lips, letting the bitter taste of the beer slip down your throat. You don't recall the last time you'd drank so much, but you were passed the point of caring, the warm buzz of tipsiness washing over your thoughts.

You had no idea where this sudden bout of fizzling confidence had come from but it made a grin curl on your lips and a tingle go down your spine. Swirling your drink around in the plastic cup for a moment as you stared at the amber liquid in contemplation, you began to make you mind up. Tipping your head back to down the last of the liquor in the cup, you placed it on the windowsill behind you and began to weave your way through the party-goers.

Finally reaching the door to enter the large marble hallway, you slipped through without anybody noticing you, breathing in the crisp air of the autumn night. The muffled noise of the loud music coming from the hall began to get quieter and quieter as you traversed slowly down the corridor, taking the winding staircase up to the dorms on the floor above this one.

It was disconcerting to yourself that you knew which one Copia's door was. You'd never been inside, none of the Siblings had, but you'd spent enough time imagining. Oh, that made you sound terribly sad. Shaking your head free of the thought, stumbling a little, you trailed your hand across the quartz wall before your palm came into contact with the metal doorhandle of a room. His room.

Swallowing thickly, your shoes padded at the ground for a moment before your knuckles came into contact with the wood of the door, the sound echoing around the empty hallway. And then you waited. And then... nothing. There was no noise sans for a small creak, which you could only assume was the floorboards. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you exhaled a shaky sigh, trying again, slightly louder this time.

There was no response for a second time. You had two options in this situation; leave and return to the party or... you could go in. It felt like a terrible invasion of privacy, but it might be the only night of your life that you had enough confidence to talk to him. It felt like eternity before you curled your fingers round the cold handle, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you pushed it down. And over the threshold you stepped...

The room smelt, as you thought it would, comfortingly of insence and sandlewood. It made you lightheaded as you peered past the doorway, observing an ornate desk, a couple of reproduction paintings of gothic classics and a huge book collection. You refrained from rushing over immediately to pounce on the shelf. Ripping yourself from the daydream you'd entered his room in, you began to focus on where you were. And, more importantly, what you could hear...

It was a quiet, imperceivable noise at first; the heavy breath of a winded man and the whine of a needy one. The room was warm, the flames of hell licking at your skin as you blinked at the sounds entering your warm ears. It was the TV, right? What else could it be? A couple moments of shy wavering later, your began to move further around the wall that blocked his bedroom from view, head peaking round the corner. And the sight was one you couldn't rip your eyes off, even if you tried.

The Cardinal, your Cardinal, straddling a cushion, his thighs bracketing the object so beautifully as his hips rocked into it at a feverish pace. His hair that was always so neatly gelled back was now sweaty and hanging over his forehead, eyes lidded and glassy as he fucked himself into the pillow like a man starved. Oh, Sathanas, what had you walked in to? Your face burned with the shame of spying on him like this, but you were transfixed.

Those leather gloves of his were gripping the sheets so tightly, you could only imagine his knuckles had turned white. He was rattling off a stream of garbled whines and pleas, indistinguishable from Italian or English, but there was one thing you could understand; the soft, desperate and almost beg of your name that fell from his lips. It sounded more like a prayer than anything - a hopeful wish and a yearning need that was fueling this sudden lustful display.

You were in too deep now to just turn on your heel and leave. Being less than 2 feet from his bed was an awfully precarious situation to be in and you'd never been more nervous in your whole life. But, the warm buzz of alcohol was suddenly propelling you forward as if your body was moving of its own accord, "...Cardinal?"

A beat passed between you both as his movements slowed slightly, looking behind him to see your illuminated figure standing shyly in the doorway. His face flushed positively puce as he moved a shaking hand to cover his mouth, moving to rise shakily on his haunches, "Fratello, mi dispiace tanto, è del tutto inappropriato- I-"

A shy smile curved at your lips as you shook your head quickly, putting a hand out to quieten him, "No, no- It's my fault, I came in without knocking, um-"

The air was hot with tension and embarrassment as poor Copia pinched the bridge of his nose, a thousand thoughts running through his scrambled brain as another question pierced the awkward atmosphere, "Did you, uh... Did you say my name, Cardinal?"

He blinked owlishly at you and then cleared his throat, beginning to stutter out an answer before the weight of you pressed down on the bed beside him. As he sucked in a breath, looking down at you it sent a hot thrill up your spine and you felt your cheeks warm a little under his gaze. "I- I'm sorry, fratello, I-" He stammered a little as he studied your expression for the hint of... anything, really. Yet, there was no malice, no disgust, no hatred. Simply an undeniable hunger in your eyes as they travelled wordlessly over his embarrassed form. They landed on his crotch momentarily, where he was badly hiding an aching erection, before they flicked up to his face. "Would you like some help?" You asked, the buzz of liquor in your brain giving you that little burst of confidence you so desperately needed. Copia did the opposite of paling, blinking down at you as if you'd suggested biting his dick off instead of helping with his... unfortunate predicament. He made a soft noise of surprise (or desperation, you couldn't quite tell) and nodded wordlessly. Deliciously slowly, he moved to sit properly as he spread his legs like some kind of risque cover girl, his hands splayed out behind him.

The sight sent a fizzle of excitement through your warm body as one hand came to fiddle with the fly of his incredibly tight pants that barely left anything to the imagination. And by Satan had you tried. Tugging it down in one swift motion, you heard him gasp quietly above you before biting his lip. That illicited a smirk from you as you ran your fingers over the prominent bulge in his briefs.

"Cazzo..." He muttered quietly and looked down at your cheeky expression with a shaky smirk. He then watched as you began to carefully pull down his pants, as best you could from the dim light and almost air-tight seal they had round his thighs. With a couple of tugs, they were finally low enough so that you could pull his boxers down too, your breath stuttering as his cock bobbed free.

Your breath stilled in your throat at the sight of him, the reddened tip oozing a perfect pearl of precum. You'd imagined this situation so many times that it was almost like a memory instead of a desperate dream. He was gorgeous. Sin incarnate and infectious like a deadly poison.

One of his hands came up to cup your cheek, the back of it sprinkled generously with dark hair. You narrowly avoided the urge to bite into it. Wordlessly, your hand wrapped around the base of him as he inhaled sharply, his thumb beginning to rub circles into your skin. Giving him a light squeeze, you began to run your hand up and down his shaft, coming back up to the top to collect the oozing precum before coating himself in it to make the action more fluid.

The noises that came out of him were something you'd heard in your dreams more than once and downright pornographic. His eyes went from lidded and glassy to squeezed tightly shut as quiet mewls filled the air between you both. The wet click of your hand against his dick echoed in your ears, bringing a flush to your already red cheeks. "Così buono per me- mngh- so perfect for your Cardinale, huh?" He practically choked out as his hand came up to grasp at your hair, illiciting a soft yet surprised noise leave your throat. The possessive pronoun had knocked your for six. You bowed your head as your hand moved at an almost torturous pace, milking the sounds from poor Copia's mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

His fingers flexed tentatively against your scalp as the heat in his lower abdomen had began to tighten in a familiar burn, like a rubber band being pulled too tight. Letting a grunt escape your lips as a burning cramp started in your upper arm, you took one look at his expression and deduced (with help from the way his cock twitched in your palm) you needn't wait much longer.

"Cazzo, fuck, amore mio," He hissed out as his jaw went a little slack, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked down at your concentrated expression beseechingly, huffing out a needy breath, "I need to- I'm going to cum- per favore, please say I can."

Oh, who could resist that?

You swallowed thickly, nodding your head blindly at his plea as you gently thumbed the head of his dick. You gave a few more mindless strokes before he kicked in your hand, and with a low cry he spilled into your palm, his fingers digging into your cheek. You couldn't help the low noise of enjoyment that escaped you at the sight of him so utterly ruined.

Finally removing your hand from the sinful mess you'd both made, letting a warm pant escape your lips, you lifted your head to look up at Copia who was already watching you. Wetting his lips nervously, he then sunk his crooked teeth into the flesh as he waited for you to do something. Anything.

With a calculating move, you edged forward, toward him, on the bed- sitting so your knees were almost touching his. He was startled at the new proximity between you both but openly welcomed it, opening his mouth a few times but ultimately nothing becoming of it. As your breath mingled with his in the sweaty air, a final, sultry invation left his lips as the words finally seemed to come back to him,

"We're only getting started, amore. I want you to clean up this mess you made."

[fairylibe]

where i’m meant to be.

1312 words. fluff. features: elbert greetia × gn! reader, alfons sylvatica, roger barel, victor (minor).

꒰ summary ꒱ elbert returns to crown castle after a week-long mission on a cruise, and all he wants is to be with you.

“the cruise is a round trip, but once you board, you will be on for the next week.”

elbert quietly listened to victor list the details of the mission he, alfons, and roger were assigned to go to, as though he were reading through a list of bullet points on a document.

“your mission is to confirm the illicit drug activities that have been reported there, and pass judgment as necessary.” with that, victor gave the three men before him a smile that was genuine, and yet somehow elusive in nature. “may you give into the darkness of your wicked hearts.”

when they exited the room, alfons let out a sigh, his lips curling into a small, wry smile. “it would seem you and i have a penchant for getting missions out in the sea.”

elbert closed his eyes, opting not to say much in response.

roger, seeing elbert’s solemn expression and the way he stayed silent, narrowed his eyes. “by the looks, you’ve got less than pleasant experiences on a ship.”

“…it’s fine. it’s just my first experience on a ship was…” elbert paused, searching for the right word to use.

before he could pin down such a word, though, alfons finished his statement. “it was so hapless, all we can do is laugh heartily when we think back on it. enough of that, though, we must prepare for this lovely cruise trip.”

“lovely, huh…”

elbert closed his eyes, ruminating on that single word alfons had uttered in sarcastic passing.

the trip would have been more “lovely,” even when they were boarding the cruise for a mission, if (y/n) was there by his side.

on the cruise, the full moon, serenely still in the sky, only observed the crimson happenings below.

“w-who are you guys?!”

when roger opened the door (by kicking it down, as “knocking wouldn’t have gotten them to open the door like that”) to a certain room hidden in the vip sector, 

alfons followed roger inside, releasing a dramatic sigh. “must you make such a violent show? i was hardly aware you did not know something very handy called a doorknob exists.”

“haha, well, politeness isn’t exactly in my dictionary when we’re dealing with bastards like these.” his glasses seemed to gleam slightly as he turned toward the group, who had all stood up from their seats by now, frozen on the spot with some pointing guns toward the crown members’ general direction, but fully prepared to book it. “besides, if you called that violent, god knows what you’d call the scene that’s about to unfold here.”

“i can only pray this doesn’t turn into a bloody mess, but more times than not, prayers are only empty words.”

when roger handled the right side and alfons the left, elbert swiftly navigated through the chaos of the crowd, pinning his ocean-blue eyes on the target — a man in an eyepatch and a scar across his cheek.

amid the chaos, he was sneaking away toward what elbert presumed was the exit.

“don’t run away.” elbert’s voice was soft, yet deep and firm at the same time.

the man jumped and turned around before he stood there, his one visible eye widening, as though enraptured at seeing something new and refreshing for the first time. it was an expression elbert detested, and yet had unfortunately grown accustomed to from his time living in the greetia manor.

please… look at me with any other eyes but those.

finally, as though the effects of a spell elbert had unconsciously casted was ebbing away, the man turned around once again to run.

“only those with no brain would stay here of their own will!”

he closed his eyes, murmured a small “i see…” and then stepped forward himself, his toes touching the man’s shadow.

only when screams and cries broke out from the room did the haunting silence fall.

a week had at last passed, and elbert was very much looking forward to return back to crown castle… of course, he couldn’t say he was the most fond of being out in the sea in general (although he favored the sight of it), and not only that…

“…to think a large whale had come out of the water, soaking elbie from the top of his head to the tips of his toes! the woe, indeed.” alfons made a dramatic show of crying.

“you got soaked from head to toe, too, al,” elbert pointed out, a small smile on his face.

“that is very true — i must applaud your proficient deduction skills.”

“you two better take a shower,” roger said, his voice laced with worry, “unless you’re looking to get sick.”

“i would very much not mind getting sick; would that not mean less physical labor?”

more than the stress of the mission, though, there was one person he so dearly missed. someone he needed to see.

right this moment.

“…i will be retiring to my room.” elbert nodded his head as a parting gesture before he turned on his heels.

there, when he opened the door, he saw (y/n) lying in a fetal position on his bed, their eyes closed and chest moving up and down rhythmically; they were fast asleep. elbert slowly approached the bed, as though he were walking toward a treasure.

“(y/n)…” his voice came out in an almost hoarse whisper. it felt as though he hadn’t said their name in years, so he repeated it over and over again, like a broken record. “(y/n), (y/n), (y/n)…”

he wanted to engrave the sound of their name on his lips within him, and he wanted to whisper it over and over.

seeing them sound asleep like this, they looked just like a statue of a deity, and drawn to them, he leaned in to plant a kiss on their forehead, their skin feeling warm against his lips.

“mn…”

it was then they stirred, their closed eyes twitching, but seemingly not awake yet.

“…i have returned, (y/n).”

his voice was soft as he watched their eyes flutter open, the color still cloudy from lethargy.

“lord elbert…?”

how he loved the way their lips sounded his name out in a drowsy whisper.

(y/n) slowly sat up, rubbing their eyes. the entire time, elbert was drawn to their slow movements, his deep ocean blue eyes reflecting them, and only them.

“i missed you,” elbert said, “a week was too long… much too long.”

even a day is too long.

(y/n) slowly reached out toward elbert’s cheek, their fingertips hesitant as they brushed against his porcelain skin. it was as though they were checking to see if he was real.

but then their eyes widened.

“wh—you’re soaking wet!”

“yes… it happened during the mission.”

“are you not cold? i can bring a towel.”

elbert shook his head.

“i want you,” he stated, his voice seeming to deepen a notch, “just you.”

(y/n)’s cheeks seemed to darken, and elbert couldn’t help but smile fondly at that.

“i-if that is enough, then…”

(y/n) wrapped their arms around elbert, pulling him into their chest. being filled with the warmth of the embrace, he closed his eyes, burying his face in their chest, taking in their scent, the shape of their body... everything.

until i drown in you.

(y/n)’s fingers made their way to elbert’s hair, combing through his wet, blond locks.

it was silent, but it was a comforting silence.

“…welcome home, lord elbert.”

to hear their whisper was like a dream — one he never wanted to end. if only the night could stay eternal, the moon stuck at its peak in the dark sky that was spotted with flickering crystals.

“mn.” elbert smiled, albeit unbeknownst to (y/n), “i’m back, (y/n).”

back home, in the place he was meant to be.

fin.

꒰ tag list . ꒱ @drachonia @weepinglycoris @letter-from-afar @candiedcoffeedrops @.comment to be added or removed!

꒰ dedication . ꒱ @aquagirl1978 @pistachiofiasco

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand + Instagram [24/?] [Click to Enlarge]

[wine-wrtj]

The party at the Prom

But soberness turns out to be the friends we made along the way

I literally just got possessed and woke up with my this piece finished two weeks later

Mind you as much as deranged teenager I am, for everything to be ✨legal✨ you could tell this is my self-indulgent polish Byler au. Because I was inspired to draw this after my school’s prom and I know NOTHING about American proms lmao. Anyway here’s some more context:

And yeah Will is totally the person to run the fuck away randomly and Elmax would probably be on the side quest. Somewhere outside of the state. Most likely.

[crimeboys]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dream SMP Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit, Minor Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Police Officer Wilbur Soot, Criminal TommyInnit, Murder, Manipulation, Modern Exile, Post-Exile Arc, Minecraft Mechanics, Suicidal Thoughts, Unreliable Narrator, Bipolar Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit has PTSD, Victim Blaming, Self-Harm, Morally Ambiguous Wilbur Soot, Police Misconduct, Exile-Typical Treatment, Starvation, Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Suicide, Guns, dream is not here but his ass is haunting the narrative big fucking time, cop-typical mistreatment of mentally ill people, puffy and sam are the only other onscreen characters Summary:

He doesn’t look like a killer, is Wilbur’s first thought upon seeing Tommy Innit outside of a picture for the first time. It’s a bit silly, really. Hardly anyone looks like a killer. They just are.

[fever-project]

Poll for all my fanfic writers in this fandom(and others who might not be in this fandom)cause I’m curious lol

there is so “other/nuance” option since that tells me nothing imo. Just think about what you usually do, and if it’s too sporadic or something, pick with your heart. You got this

[thisismeracing]

my new roman empire

[ejga-ostja]

Dandelion Crowns 💛

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Sunday doodle, will likely clean this up later :3

[sondheim-girly]

Here’s my submission for day one of @outsidersweek, sorry it’s so late!! October, 1966

Trip

Before Junior year, Trip hadn’t noticed Marcia. Whereas Brill had known he’d marry Bev since they were little kids, and Bob had had a crush on Cherry for years, it took Trip a while to see how much he liked the sassy brunette. In middle school, he'd just seen Marcia as the weird girl who talked too much. Once she got into high school he started to notice her more. The way her eyes twinkled when she talked with her friends, and the glossy shine of her hair. Then when he went into his Junior year something flipped, and suddenly she was all he thought about. The sight of this girl he’d known for years suddenly sent fireworks flying through his stomach. 

He didn’t really try to hide his crush, and the entire football team learned all about it instantly. He believed Marcia noticed fairly quickly as well. When someone literally stops in the hallway to stare as you pass by, how could you not notice? By the time homecoming was around the corner, Brill wouldn’t stop bothering Trip, telling him to ask out Marcia. Eventually Trip had given in, and he and Brill planned it all out. 

On the Friday one week before homecoming, he would meet her in the courtyard that was normally empty before school. He’d have a huge bouquet of flowers, and he would ask her to go to homecoming with him. Brill was convinced Marcia would say yes, and if Trip were being honest, he knew she would. And after the dance he’d ask her to be his girlfriend. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about how she might smile up at him at the dance. How she’d be cheering him on from the stands of the football field during the big game. And now here he was, standing like an idiot in an empty courtyard with Brill, his hands filled with a bouquet of the nicest flowers in all of Tulsa. But when he saw the brunette walk into the courtyard, he knew it was all worth it.

Marcia

“Bev why are you dragging me! And where are we going??” Marcia complained, as her friend gleefully guided her through the school campus,

“Quit complaining, you’ll see soon enough.”

“The courtyard?” Marcia said as they finally arrived, “why would we…” she trailed off as she saw a boy standing there, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Bev ran over to meet Brill, and he strung his arm over her shoulders.

“See you guys in class!” Brill called back at them, the perfect pair unable to stop smiling at the evident success of their plan.

“Hey!” Marcia awkwardly greeted Trip, as she fidgeting with her dress.

“Hey. I was… I was wondering if you’d like to go to homecoming with me,” he asked, a shy grin on his face.

With those simple words, Marcia felt like she was floating on air. She’d spent so long feeling like she was going to be alone forever. Bev had Brill, and everyone knew they’d be together forever, the pair completely made for each other in every way. And then Cherry started going out with Bob last winter, and suddenly Cherry hardly ever hung out with Marcia. And Marcia knew she talked too much, she was always cracking jokes that no one around her ever found funny. She thought that no one would ever like her like that, no one would ever love her. But here was Trip. Cute, athletic, Trip. And he really liked her. He really really liked her! And he was standing there with a bunch of flowers and a smile, asking her to homecoming! Her fairytale was finally coming true.

“I'd love to,” she finally responded, and Trip stepped towards her, handing off the flowers. A huge grin spread itself across her face as she looked down at the bright colors, before she looked up at Trip again, “Thank you,” she said,

“I’ll pick you up at 6:30, alright?”

“Perfect. I should get to class now, see you later?”

“Yep!” He confirmed, and she gave him a small wave before hurrying out of the courtyard to find Bev and Cherry and tell them what had happened.