#my friends!! we're thriving on this fine evening!!

[unabashegirl]

Camping — oneshot

Harry and Y/N were friends in college until that day. Now they are being forced to face one another...

Author's note: this one shot was posted on Patreon a long time ago. Happy that you all have a chance to read it!

check out my patreon and get access to this week new one shot (y/n's bff dad) and much more :)

warning: smut

word count: 4.8K

masterlist

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"I can’t believe you’re making me do this," she said as April tossed her backpack into the back of her car. "This feels like kidnapping."

"Stop being so dramatic and get in the car," April replied, a big smile on her face. You and April had been best friends since college, bonding over the ridiculous workload assigned to your class each week. You were opposites: you loved city life, running water, and comfort, while April thrived on nature, adventure, and challenges. She adored plants and meticulously cared for the ones she had at home. In contrast, April had once gifted you a cactus, which you managed to kill.

"I got us muffins and coffee from that place you love," April said.

"Is this your way of bribing me into going?" you asked, reaching for the bag of treats. "I know this is Mark’s idea." April just shrugged as she started driving.

"Aren’t you tired of the city? This will be good for you! All you do is work, sleep, watch The Office, work out, and repeat," April said, giggling as you stopped chewing.

"Leave The Office out of this," you warned. It had been your favorite show since high school, your comfort show, always playing in your apartment. You even tried to get others hooked on it. "I’ve seen you laugh."

"Listen, there’s something I need to tell you," April said, turning down the music.

"Did Mark propose?" you asked immediately, knowing they were endgame. The three of you had met in college and stayed close ever since.

"No," April replied.

"You’re pregnant then?!"

"Shut up!" April interrupted. "Harry is coming. Mark invited him, and I had no say in it," she blurted out, like ripping off a band-aid.

"Oh! Let me out. I am not going," you said, instantly annoyed at the mention of his name. "I thought Mark and he weren’t friends anymore."

"He just came back from America. He called Mark a few weeks ago, and they had drinks and dinner together. Apparently, he’s changed and is more mature." You rolled your eyes as you finished eating your muffin. Your appetite was gone, and you felt suddenly nervous. "You have to let go of that grudge against him!"

"It’s not a grudge, April. The man ghosted me after we had sex. That was all he was after. Him leaving was the best thing that could have happened to all of us," you said. You had fallen for his charm, and after much convincing, you finally gave in during your senior year.

"You’ve moved on, and so has he. I’m just asking you to be polite, babe," April insisted. "I just want us to have a good time."

You sighed, leaning back in your seat as the cityscape blurred past. "Fine. But if he starts anything, I'm not holding back."

April laughed, patting your leg. "That's the spirit. Just remember, we're here to relax and have fun."

The rest of the drive was filled with casual chatter and music, the tension slowly easing. As you neared your destination, a clearing in the woods where you would set up camp, you couldn't help but appreciate the serene beauty of the place. The stress of city life began to melt away, replaced by a reluctant sense of peace.

April parked the car and you both got out, stretching your legs and taking in the fresh air. "It’s gorgeous out here," you admitted begrudgingly.

"See? Told you it would be worth it," April said, grinning.

Mark emerged from behind the car, waving. "Hey, you two! Glad you made it. I'm surprised you managed to convince Y/N,” he said, wrapping his arms around April.

“It took a lot,” April giggled as Mark kissed her cheek. “Muffins and coffee.”

“I can still go back,” you said, throwing your backpack over your shoulder. “How long is this hike going to take?” you asked, walking up to Mark and giving him a friendly side hug.

“About thirty minutes. Is that fine or are you going to melt?” he teased, grinning.

April slapped his chest playfully before opening the trunk to get the rest of the stuff out. “Where’s your friend, anyway? Or is he still the unpunctual asshole he always was?”

“M’ right here” Harry said as he emerged from the trail that they were going to take to the campsite. You abstained from saying anything surprised at his appearance. He had kept his good looks. He had even gotten more attractive with more age. However, you would never admit it aloud.

April turned to look at you with her eyes widen opened. You gave her the same look, letting her know that you agreed. Harry wore tiny black shorts that left little to imagination. His legs seemed to never end and his thighs were inked. His grey shirt was tight enough sculpt his chest and his pectorals. His curls were tucked under his basketball cap and his eyes hidden away by some aviator sunglasses.

“You were saying, Y/N? I didn’t catch the last part” Harry asked you, with a small smirk. “Are you still a yapping bitch?”

“Just that we should start the hike” You responded, looking straight at him. You weren’t the same quiet and shy girl you were in college. You had matured and life experiences had shaped you. You were more outgoing and vocal about your opinions.

“I thought so” you heard him say as you turned your back towards him.

As you all gathered the camping gear, the anticipation of the weekend settled in. The woods were peaceful, with the sun filtering through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Birds chirped in the distance, and the fresh scent of pine filled the air.

Mark led the way, carrying the heavier equipment with Harry, while April and you followed. Despite your reservations, the beauty of the surroundings began to work its magic, and you found yourself relaxing a bit.

After a short walk, you reached the designated camping spot, a small clearing by a bubbling brook. It was picturesque, almost like a scene from a nature magazine. You couldn’t help but admit, if only to yourself, that it was a nice change from the city’s hustle and bustle.

"That was more than thirty minutes," you complained, dropping to the ground to rest your legs. "You're lucky the view was pretty." Mark and April laughed, while Harry remained silent, just watching you.

"Let's set up camp," Mark said, and he and April began unloading the gear. You took the opportunity to pull out the speaker and connect your phone.

As you selected a playlist, music filled the air, blending with the natural sounds of the forest. You watched as Mark and April worked together seamlessly, their laughter and chatter a comforting background noise. Harry joined in, helping with the heavier items, his actions precise and deliberate. You couldn’t help but feel a simmering resentment toward him, remembering the night that had led up to the hate that you had grown towards him.

You glanced around, taking in the beauty of the campsite. Tall trees encircled the clearing, their leaves rustling in the soft breeze. The nearby brook added a soothing melody to the scene, and the late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over everything.

Harry approached, handing you a bottle of water. "You looked like you could use this," he said, his tone neutral.

"Thanks," you replied curtly, accepting the bottle but avoiding eye contact. His gesture did little to ease the tension between you.

With the tents set up and the campsite organized, the four of you gathered around the fire pit. Mark expertly built a fire, and soon the flames were crackling as the sun descended behind the trees, providing warmth and a focal point for the group.

"How was America?" Mark asked Harry as he handed him a beer. "Did you enjoy living there?"

"It was nice for a while," Harry replied, taking a sip. "But it got lonely after a bit. I'm actually happy to be back."

"Marketing, right?" April asked, earning a quick nod from Harry.

You listened quietly, not fully trusting his cheerful demeanor. It was hard to forget the history between you.

"Well, we're glad to have you back," Mark said, clinking his beer bottle against Harry’s. "It’s like old times again."

April smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, just with more responsibilities and less reckless behavior."

"Speak for yourself," Mark joked, earning a playful nudge from April.

Harry chuckled, but his eyes kept drifting toward you. You avoided his gaze, focusing on the fire instead.

Mark instantly got up from his spot, his eyes twinkled mischievously as he took off his jacket and shirt.

April raised an eyebrow, “What are you doing?!”

“I’m going for a swim” he said, grinning widely as he took of his pants along with his boxers.

You burst out laughing, shaking your head as you covered your eyes not wanting to look at your best friend’s boyfriend privates.

“A swim? It’s pretty late, Mark.” April said as Mark used his hands to cover himself.

“Why not?” Mark said, standing up and stretching. “We’re out here in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. It’ll be fun.” He wanted to cut the tension. He wanted for everyone to have fun and it was a way to get everyone out of the funk especially the both of you. “Oh, it’s fucking cold” He said as he ran towards the lake.

April rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re crazy, you know that?” she yelled after him as she got up from her spot.

“That’s why you love me,” Mark quipped, winking at her.

You bit your lip, considering it. The idea was wild and spontaneous, something you wouldn’t normally do. But maybe that’s what made it appealing.

“Alright,” you said, surprising yourself. “I’m in. But if anyone mentions this to anyone back home, I’m denying everything.” as you started stripping. You couldn’t see Harry, but you could feel Harry’s stare on you.

April laughed. “This should be interesting. Okay, I’m in too.”

Mark clapped his hands together. “Harry?” He yelled as he splashed water. The water was surprisingly warmer than expected.

As soon as your pants came off, you sprinted towards the water, not wanting to give anyone a chance to inspect your body. April followed right behind you, and before you knew it, both of you were submerged in the cool, refreshing water.

The initial shock of the cold water took your breath away, but it quickly turned invigorating. You surfaced, laughing and pushing your wet hair out of your face. April emerged beside you, her laughter echoing across the lake.

"This is crazy!" she shouted, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Harry was right behind, diving into the water with loud splashes. The four of you swam around, the thrill of the spontaneous adventure making everyone giddy.

"Not your worst idea, Mark," you admitted, floating on your back and gazing up at the starry sky. "This is lovely." Mark grinned, splashing water at you.

“Things haven’t changed at much. We still let you convince us into doing shit” said, his tone lighter than it had been all evening.

For a while, you all floated and swam, the cool water refreshing and the company surprisingly pleasant. The tension and animosity seemed to wash away with the gentle waves.

The atmosphere grew quieter as April nestled closer to Mark, the two of them wrapped up in each other's presence, sharing quiet moments and exchanging soft words. The only sounds breaking the silence were the faint music playing in the background and the gentle crackling of the fire.

You glanced over at April and Mark, their closeness evident in the way they leaned into each other, their whispered conversations carrying an intimacy that made you smile despite yourself. It was a rare sight, seeing them so openly affectionate, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy mixed with genuine happiness for them.

Harry saw opposite you, lost in his thoughts as he stared at the sky. The events of the evening seemed to have softened his demeanor, his usual guarded expression replaced by a contemplative look. For once, the animosity between you felt less palpable, overshadowed by the camaraderie of the evening.

The music played softly in the background, a soothing backdrop to the quiet moments shared among friends. The night air was cool against your skin, but the warmth of the water and the company kept you comfortable.

"It's good to see you again, pup," Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice breaking the peaceful silence. The old nickname tugged at your emotions. He had called you that since college, back when you both shared dreams and aspirations.

You looked at him, caught off guard by his unexpected warmth. "Yeah," you replied softly.

"I heard you landed your dream job," he continued, glancing at you with a hint of a smile. You nodded, trying to conceal your own smile. "A reporter for BBC News. I remember how you used to talk about it non-stop. Proud of you."

“Thanks. How is your mom and Gemma?" you asked, recalling that final year of uni when Harry had invited you to his family home. It had been Easter weekend, a time when you got to meet the two women who made Harry’s world turn.

Harry's face softened at the mention of his family. "They're doing well," he replied, a hint of fondness in his voice. "Mom's as busy as ever, and Gemma is a mum now”

"Wait, what?!" You were taken aback, genuinely surprised by the news. It was unexpected, and you hadn't seen it coming.

Harry chuckled softly at your surprised reaction, his eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and pride. "Yeah, she had a baby girl a few months ago," he explained, his voice tinged with happiness. "It's been quite the adjustment, but she's doing great."

You couldn't help but smile at the thought of Gemma as a mother. "That's amazing," you replied genuinely. "Congratulations to her."

As you processed this new information, you felt a twinge of nostalgia for the times you had spent with Harry and his family. It seemed like another lifetime ago, yet the memories were still vivid in your mind. Despite the distance that had grown between you, moments like these reminded you of the bonds that once connected you.

"Listen, Y/N..." Harry began, but he was swiftly cut off by Mark and April.

"We're heading out. We are starving!" Mark called out, trailing after April as they exited.

Harry paused, his words hanging in the air as Mark and April hurriedly headed towards the campsite. You exchanged a glance with Harry, both of you momentarily sidelined by the interruption.

“I’ll see you out there” You said, trying to sound casual despite the awkwardness of the moment. Deep down, you wondered what Harry had wanted to say—whether it was something about the past or the tentative future you both seemed to be tiptoeing around. However, you didn’t want to stay behind. You weren’t skeptical about giving him a chance to explain himself.

Carefully, you swam back to shore and climbed out of the water. Attempting to regain your composure and stride confidently back to camp, you couldn't help but feel you'd failed miserably, especially with the chilly air gnawing at you.

Everyone changed into comfortable clothes while Mark prepared hot dogs for dinner.

"Did you bring your sleeping bag?" April asked, emerging from her tent.

"Yeah, I think so. It was in the hall by the door," you replied, brushing your hair. As you watched April search for it, a feeling of panic began to creep in. You mentally retraced your steps, recalling the things you had taken out of the trunk.

"No way," you muttered under your breath, frantically rummaging through your belongings. "I thought we grabbed everything!"

"What’s wrong? What are you looking for?" Harry asked, wanting to help.

"I think I left my sleeping bag at home," you sighed, realizing it was going to be a tough night. You had brought your tent, but sleeping on the bare ground wasn’t part of the plan.

Harry frowned, considering the situation. "we'll figure something out," he said, his voice reassuring.

Mark, overhearing the conversation, turned from the campfire where he was tending to the hot dogs. "I brought an extra blanket. It's not a sleeping bag, but it should help.”

"Thanks, Mark," you said, grateful for the gesture. Still, the thought of an uncomfortable night's sleep loomed over you.

April emerged triumphantly with a blanket. "Here, hopefully this makes it more comfortable," she said.

You took the blanket from her, managing a small smile. This trip was definitely not going as you had expected—it seemed like one thing after another.

"Hot dogs are ready!" Mark announced cheerfully as he handed everyone their plate and they gathered around the fire.

“Remember the last time we went camping?” April asked as she swallowed a bite of her hot dog.

“Wasn’t that the time that Mark though there was a bear attacking us?” Harry smirked, taking a bite of his hot dog. “What animal was it?”

“It was a racoon” You joined in, the memory making you chuckle.

“In my defense it was SO loud! It made a lot of noise” Mark laughed, shaking his head. “It was bloody big”.

"Was that before or after you tried to scare it away by singing 'Eye of the Tiger' at the top of your lungs?” April busted out laughing.

“He was so off-key. I am surprised the racoon put up a fight”

“I was just trying to protect us!” Mark threw up his hands in mock indignation.

Everyone busted into laughter again, the tension had melted away in the shared amusement. For a moment, it felt like old times, with jokes and stories like in college.

Later, as you settled into your tent with the borrowed blanket, you couldn’t help but think about all the conversations that you had with your friends. Harry's earlier attempt to talk still lingered in your mind, and you knew that the conversation was far from over.

Just as you were about to drift off, you heard a soft knock on the tent flap. "Hey, you still awake?" It was Harry’s voice.

You sat up, your heart beating a little faster. "Yeah, what’s going on?"

Harry unzipped the tent entrance and peeked in, holding a sleeping bag. "I thought you might need this."

"You brought an extra one?" you asked, suspicion creeping into your voice.

"Yeah," he replied, but his eyes betrayed him. You knew Harry too well to be fooled.

"You're lying," you said, stopping him just as he turned to leave. "You can’t fool me. I know you, Harry Styles. I know this is your sleeping bag."

He paused, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "So, what if it is?"

"That I’m not taking your sleeping bag from you," you insisted, handing it back to him. "Thank you, though."

He hesitated, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his face. "Let's share it then," he suggested softly.

You blinked, taken aback by his offer. You were nervous. The though of you sharing such a tight space and being in such proximity made your heart beat faster and the palms of your hands sweaty.

“Are you sure?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, stepping into the tent. “It’s cold, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable”.

With a nod, you scooted over to make room. Harry stretched out the sleeping back and unzipped it for both of you. As you both settled into the sleeping bag, the proximity was comforting, but unsettling at the same time. The warmth of his body next to yours was a stark contrast to the chilly night air. You both shared a pillow and the blanket that April had giving you.

His scent enveloped you — a mix of pine, musk and a hint of the campfire smoke. His warmth radiated through the thin layers of the fabric, soothing the chill of the night air. The gently rise and fall of his chest against your back created a rhythmic presence. His arm draped lightly over your side and the sensation of his body pressed against yours brought an unexpected sense of nostalgia.

“Are you confortable?” He whispered as if sharing. secret, as if what you were doing was somehow forbidden.

You nodded slight, feeling the wright of his questions. “I am” you whispered back, the darkness amplifying the intimacy of the moment.

The silence that followed was filled with the soft sounds of the forest and the distant crackle of the campfire outside.

“Thank you” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“No problem” he replied softly, his words brushing against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into the moment. There was still something in the air. Something unspoken.

“Remember that night?” Harry whispered after a while, his voice a gently murmur in the quiet night. Referring to the night of passion that they had shared back in uni. The night that had stayed with you ever since.

“Every second of it” you replied, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and hurt. Memories flooding back, vivid and bittersweet. You could still recall the feel of his lips, the way his touch had ignited a fire within you. “Why did you never call or text back?”

Harry sighed softly, his warm breath against your neck. “I was a coward,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I was scared of what I felt for you, of how much you meant to me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I ran”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. You turn slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his for the truth. In the dim light of the tent, you could see raw vulnerability that he rarely showed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you” You admitted, “I resented you for it” Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of relief and sorrow.

“I am wrong. I was so wrong. I missed you” he confessed. Harry reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek.

The air between you grew thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions. His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. You could feel yourself drawing closer, every inch of space between you crackling with tension. The warmth of his body, the gently rise and fall of his chest and the soft brush of his breath against your skin all conspired to lure you to him.

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips, and you felt like your breath hitch, the moment stretching into an eternity. The desire to close the gap, to feel the familiar yet thrilling sensation of his kiss, was overwhelming and every fiber of you yearned for that kiss that would final bridge all those years of resentment.

Harry’s gaze was intense, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your every thought. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

With a deep breath, Harry leaned in slowly, closing the miniscule gap between you. His lips brushed against yours with a feather light touch, tentative yet filled with longing. His lips were warm and soft, fitting against yours as if they had always belonged there.

A soft sigh escaped Harry’s lips, a mixture of relief. His hand moved from your cheek to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, each movement a silent confession of years of yearning and regret.

Lost in the moment, you ran your fingers through his hair, savoring the texture and the closeness it brough. His touch sent sparks through your body, awakening every nerve ending with a delicious ache between your legs that only he could take care of.

“Let me have you” His breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “I want you so bad” His hand took yours, guiding it to him, making you feel the intensity of his longing and the very evident erection that he had grown for her. His words hung in the air, heavy with desire.

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching in your throat. "Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you too.” You didn’t think much about it. Your mind was too clouded.

Harry closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss both tender and urgent. He used the kiss to roll you to your side with your back towards him. Harry pulled off the sweater off your body and pull the straps of your bralette off your shoulders, exposing more skin for his lips to capture.

Harry hands came down to your pants as his lips trailed down to your neck, each kiss a lingering, deliberate caress that sent shivers down your spine. As his mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, he paused, letting his lips brush lightly over your pulse point before his right hand found its way into your underwear.

“Try to stay quiet, yeah?” As his fingers started playing with you, touching your most intimate spots. His knee came between your legs, spreading them more and allowing him to explore more of you.

Harry left arm went under her head, for you to rest your head against his bicep while he had his way with you. You bit your lips, arching your hips towards his hand just as his fingers entered you. A rush of pleasure coursed through you, mingling with a cascade of nerves that made your heart race.

“God. You are so wet, pup” He groaned as he tried his best to contain himself. Harry left hand came down to cover your mouth as your moans got louder. “You are doing so good, baby”, he mumbled, his arms tightening around you.

“For the love of fuck” you gasped as you came undone on his fingers. It was hot, you were both still nuzzled in the sleeping bag. Just as you unzipped the sleeping bag and sat up, you caught Harry sucking the same two fingers that had been in you a second ago.

“Come here” Harry commanded as he slipped off his joggers and boxers. It was a sight that she hoped to never forget. The muscles of his abdomen flexed proof that he spent his diligent time at the gym. His erection stood tall and proudly inviting you to ride him.

You slipped off your pants and underwear. Harry hands gripped your waist tightly and guided you down on to him. The pleasure was instant as he stretched you out. Harry’s fingers gripped you tightly, holding you still for a second as you both adjusted to the sensation.

His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as his head was thrown back.

“Show me how much you missed me” You said to him which only ignited the fire within him. His hands guided your hips, as you both tried to find the perfect rhythm to drive you off the edge.

“Look at you. So fuckin’ perfect just f’me” Your words only ignited the fire within him, a spark that quickly grew into an all-consuming blaze.

His hands firmly guided your hips, every movement deliberate and driven by an intense desire to bring you both to the peak of ecstasy. The sensation of his strong hands on your skin, the way he moved with you, sent waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You both sought the perfect rhythm, each thrust and shift in sync, the friction and pressure building with every passing second.

“Oh, baby… you are so tight” he moaned, Harry’s grip tightened on your waist, his fingernails digging into your skin. Your thrust and grinding became sloppier and soon enough both of you were moaning. You clenched around him as Harry lifted his hips from the ground as you both came undone.

You laid down on his chest with him still in you. It was comforting, having him in you. Harry’s hands came up and brushed your sweaty hair back.

“You aren’t going to disappear now, are you?” You asked as he drew patterns on your sweaty back.

“I am not going anywhere”.

[estellan0vella]

More Than Enough Time: L. Mh Lee Minho x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 11.6K

CW: Anxiety, Menace Jisung, Secret Simp Minho

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part II

The room is alive with the sound of clinking glasses, murmured conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter that slices through the warm air of the grand banquet hall. The dim, golden glow of chandeliers drips overhead, casting a soft light across the elegantly dressed guests.

You sit at the round table, nervously smoothing your hands over the silk of your champagne-coloured gown. Every so often, your fingers toy with the sapphire-encrusted hairpin holding your hair in place, a gift from your grandmother. It's more than a piece of jewellery; it's a talisman tonight, something to cling to.

Beside you, Jisung, your best friend, fidgets in his seat, drumming his fingers on the table. He's dressed in a sleek black suit that contrasts nicely with his hair, but despite the confident exterior, you know he's just as anxious as you are. But for once, it feels like your nerves are trying to outdo his.

"Fuck, why did I agree to this?" Jisung mutters under his breath, glancing at you with wide eyes. "I swear to God, Y/N, if I have to stand up there and give a speech, I might just throw up all over the stage."

You force a chuckle, though it feels weak in your throat. "Join the club. I feel like my stomach's doing backflips. What if I trip in these shoes? What if I can't say anything at all and I just stand there like a fucking idiot?"

Jisung snorts, giving you a sympathetic look. "We're both fucked."

Across from you, Bang Chan, the Alpha Phi fraternity president, leans back in his chair, sipping on a glass of whiskey. His black hair is slicked back, giving him a polished, suave look that almost distracts from the fact that he's one of the rowdiest guys you know. He gives you both a grin that's way too confident for your liking.

"Relax," Chan says. "You guys are gonna crush it. You wrote that article like badasses, now just get up there and take the damn award."

Jisung glares at him. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Football Star. You literally thrive on people staring at you."

"Exactly," Chan grins wider. "Which is why you should listen to me."

You shift in your seat, glancing around the table. You're surrounded by Alpha Phi members tonight, all of whom seem a lot more comfortable in their skin than you feel in yours.

Hyunjin sits next to Chan, looking ridiculously perfect as always. His long black hair falls just past his shoulders, and he's tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table while staring off into the distance. He's receiving an award tonight too, for something in the arts, and though he looks calm, you can see his jaw clenching every few seconds.

"Stop staring at the program," Hyunjin mutters to you without even glancing your way. "It's not gonna change."

You blink, realizing that you've been staring at the folded piece of paper in front of you, the one listing all the awards for the night. Yours and Jisung's, The Innovative Journalism Award, is still about fifteen minutes away, and the waiting is fucking killing you.

"Fuck," you whisper under your breath, more to yourself than anyone else.

Felix, sitting on the other side of Jisung, notices your stress. He gives you a soft, warm smile, his freckles standing out against his fair skin. "You'll do fine, Y/N. We all believe in you."

"Yeah," Jeongin chimes in from the end of the table. His hair falls slightly into his eyes as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. He's getting an award too, something for fashion design. "We all know you're the smartest one here, so just relax, okay?"

You nod, but the knot in your stomach refuses to untangle. It's not just about the award. Sure, winning an award for the article you and Jisung wrote, a deep dive into the theory that Jack the Ripper might have been a woman, is huge.

It's the culmination of months of research, late nights, and too many cups of coffee. But the idea of standing in front of a room full of people, having all eyes on you, waiting for you to say something intelligent... it's suffocating.

Minho, who's been quiet up until now, finally speaks. He's seated directly across from you, his deep cherry red hair gleaming under the soft light of the chandeliers. "You'll be fine," he says simply, his voice calm and steady. "Just breathe."

You meet his gaze for a second longer than you intend to, feeling the weight of his words. Minho is always like this. Quietly confident, never too loud or overbearing. He's the type who can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, even when you're pretty fucking sure it's not.

"You make it sound so easy," you mutter, breaking the eye contact and taking a quick sip of your drink, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.

Hyunjin shifts beside you, his gaze flickering to the stage. "It's easy for Minho because he's never nervous. Must be nice to be so fucking chill all the time."

Minho shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a half-smile. "Just a talent, I guess."

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Well, share some of that talent with us because I feel like I'm about to shit myself."

There's a round of laughter at the table, but you can't join in. The knot in your stomach tightens as the minutes tick by. Your hands, now resting on the table, feel clammy. The silk of your gown is suddenly too heavy, clinging to your skin in a way that makes you feel trapped. You know no one else can hear your heart pounding, but it feels deafening in your own ears.

You glance at the stage again, watching as the current award is being presented to some group for their contributions to environmental science. You're not even paying attention to the speech, just counting down the minutes, waiting for your turn. You can feel it creeping up on you. The anxiety. The tightness in your chest, the shallow breaths, the overwhelming need to get the fuck out of this room.

Suddenly, it's too much. The noise, the lights, the heat. You need air. Now.

"I—uh—I need to use the restroom," you stammer, pushing your chair back.

Jisung glances at you, concern flashing in his eyes, but he nods. "You good?"

You nod quickly, too quickly. "Yeah. Just nerves."

Before anyone can stop you, you're on your feet, weaving through the tables and out of the banquet hall. The moment you step into the hallway, the cool air hits your skin, and it's a relief, but only for a second. Your heels click against the marble floor as you make your way down the corridor, your breath coming in shallow gasps now.

You find a small side room and slip inside, closing the door behind you. The silence is almost jarring after the noise of the banquet hall, but you're grateful for it. You lean against the door, pressing one hand to your stomach and the other to your forehead. The room feels like it's spinning, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus, trying to breathe.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whisper to yourself, feeling the panic rising in your chest.

You yank the sapphire hairpin out of your hair, letting your carefully pinned-up style fall apart, the soft strands brushing against your bare shoulders. The pin feels cold in your hand, a grounding sensation, but it's not enough to stop the wave of anxiety crashing over you.

Your stomach twists painfully, and you press harder against it, as if that will somehow make it stop. But it's not working. Nothing's working.

You lean over slightly, bracing yourself on your knees, trying to remember what the hell you're supposed to do in moments like this. Breathe. You're supposed to breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Simple. Easy. Except it's not.

Back in the hall, the crowd shifts with anticipation as the MC steps up to the podium, smiling widely at the gathered guests.

"And now, the recipients of this year's Innovative Journalism Award. For their brilliant work on the investigative article delving into the theory that Jack the Ripper may have been a woman, please welcome Han Jisung and Y/N L/N!"

There's a pause. Jisung's heart nearly jumps out of his chest as he hears your name. He looks over to the seat you left empty minutes ago, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes turning to him.

"Fuck," Jisung mutters under his breath, pushing his chair back and standing up.

The nerves that were already gnawing at him double in intensity. His best friend isn't there to share the load, and now, he's completely on the spot. He glances over at Minho, who's been silently watching him.

Minho, though still seated, leans over slightly. "Where the hell is Y/N?"

Jisung runs a hand through his hair, his heart racing. "She, uh... she went to the restroom or something. She's been freaking out all night. I think she might be having one of her moments, man."

Minho's expression darkens slightly with concern, and he pushes his chair back. "I'll go find her."

"Wait, wait," Jisung hisses, grabbing Minho's wrist as he's about to stand. "What the fuck do I say to them up there?"

Minho glances toward the stage where the MC is starting to look a little confused, waiting for someone to approach. "Make up some bullshit. Tell them she had to take a phone call or something, just so they don't start asking too many fucking questions."

Jisung frowns, his anxiety doubling. "Dude, I can't do this shit on my own."

Minho's eyes soften for a second, something almost rare to see from him. "I know. But you've got this. Just give her the credit she deserves, take the award, and make sure someone films it so she can see it later. Chan will do that. I'll make sure she's okay."

Jisung clenches his fists for a moment, feeling the pressure crushing him. The thought of going up there alone, without you, makes him feel like he's about to pass out. But when he looks into Minho's eyes, he knows he's right. You're the priority right now.

"Alright," Jisung says finally, his voice tight with nerves. "Just... just make sure Y/N's okay, alright? You know how she gets with this kind of shit."

"I'll handle it," Minho nods, his voice low but firm. He claps Jisung on the shoulder. "Now go get the fucking award."

Jisung exhales sharply, watching as Minho slips away from the table, moving swiftly through the hall. He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of what he has to do next.

"Chan," Jisung mutters to his friend, who is still seated at the table, looking between him and the stage.

"Yeah?"

"Film this for Y/N, alright? Minho's going to find her."

Chan raises an eyebrow but nods, pulling out his phone without a word. Jisung swallows down the rising panic and heads toward the stage, his steps feeling heavy as the crowd watches him.

Minho doesn't waste time as he leaves the banquet hall, moving swiftly down the corridor. His steps echo softly in the quiet hallway, the muffled sounds of the award ceremony still filtering through the door behind him.

He's seen you spiral like this before, and his heart tightens in his chest. You're tough as hell most of the time, but when the anxiety hits, it hits hard. Minho knows that look in your eyes all too well. The panic, the overwhelming urge to escape. He's watched you, time and again, try to fight it, to shove it down, but sometimes, it's just too much.

You're not the type to cry during these moments; that's not how your panic works. Instead, you go silent, withdraw, pull yourself in so tight that it's like you're trying to disappear. Minho's learned to recognize the signs, the little tells. Like how you start fidgeting with your hair or that sapphire hairpin you always wear when you're stressed. The one that belonged to your grandmother. It's your good luck charm, though tonight it seems like it's doing little to stave off the rising storm inside you.

As Minho searches for you, he opens door after door, moving quickly but not frantically. His mind stays focused, methodical. He doesn't need to be panicked; that won't help you. He knows you well enough to know where you'd go in moments like this. Somewhere quiet, somewhere empty.

Finally, he reaches a small room at the end of the hallway, and when he pushes the door open, he sees you.

You're pacing back and forth, your gown swishing gently as you move. One hand is pressed to your forehead, the other to your stomach, like you're trying to physically hold yourself together. Your breathing is shallow, quick, and your eyes are wide with that familiar look of dread.

Minho's heart breaks a little as he watches you. You look so vulnerable, so unlike the confident woman you usually are. Yet, at the same time, there's something undeniably beautiful about you, even now. Even in the middle of your anxiety, you manage to carry a grace that makes his chest tighten for entirely different reasons. But now's not the time for that.

He steps into the doorway and knocks gently on the frame. "Hey, sweetheart," he says softly, using the nickname he's reserved just for you.

You look up, startled at first, but then you see it's Minho. A small, shaky breath leaves your lips. "Hey, Minho," you murmur, your voice quieter than usual.

Minho takes a few steps into the room, closing the door behind him, sealing off the rest of the world. "You doing alright?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

"Yeah... I'm fine," you lie, but the strain in your voice gives you away. "I just... I don't want to go up there."

He nods, stepping closer to you, not crowding your space but just enough to make sure you know he's there. "I know," he says quietly.

He reaches out, gently placing his hand on the back of your neck, his fingers lightly brushing the soft skin there. His thumb traces over your pulse point, and he can feel how fast your heart is racing.

"It's okay. Jisung's up there right now, telling them you had to step out for an important phone call. No one's gonna make a big deal about it."

You blink at him, processing his words. "He did?"

"Yeah," Minho confirms, his voice soothing. "Chan's filming it too, so you'll still get to see the moment you're credited for the work. Don't worry about it. You don't need to put yourself through that shit."

You let out a small breath, your shoulders sagging with relief. The pressure in your chest eases slightly, though the tightness in your stomach remains. Minho's thumb continues its gentle rhythm on your neck, grounding you, pulling you back to the present.

Suddenly, Minho pulls you into a hug. His arms wrap around you, firm but gentle, and he presses his cheek against yours. The warmth of his body, the solidness of his embrace, catches you off guard for a second, but then you relax into him. He smells like something warm and comforting, and you breathe it in, your arms coming up to grip his shoulders as you rest your head against his.

He holds you tightly, his cheek still pressed against yours, and rocks you slightly, back and forth. It's the same thing he does for Jisung when he's panicking, the pressure of the hug helping to suppress the nervous system, calming everything down.

Minho doesn't say anything for a while, just keeps holding you, his cheek brushing yours, his thumb still moving gently on the back of your neck. His breathing is calm, steady, and before long, you find your own breathing starting to match his.

The scent of your mango and passionfruit body spray lingers in the air, and Minho can't help but smile a little to himself. He's always adored that scent on you. It's light and sweet, just like you, and being this close to you, holding you like this, it makes his heart pound in his chest. But he pushes those feelings aside. Right now, it's about you, not him.

"You're crashing with Jisung at the frat tonight, right?" Minho asks after a moment, his voice low and calm.

You nod against him. "Yeah, that was the plan."

Minho pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. "Let's get you back then. Fuck these fancy assholes. You earned your award, you don't need to torture yourself by staying here. Take those torture devices off your feet, too. They're not doing you any favours."

You glance down at your stilettos, your brows furrowing. "I should've worn wedges. I hate these fucking shoes."

Minho chuckles softly, shaking his head. He crouches down in front of you, his fingers already working on the small buckles of your stilettos. "Next time, wear the wedges. I know you prefer them."

You watch as he carefully unbuckles your shoes, slipping them off your feet one at a time. His movements are gentle, and something about the simple act of him helping you out of your heels brings another wave of calm. He stands back up, holding your shoes in one hand, giving you a small smirk. "Better?"

"Yeah," you murmur, wiggling your toes against the cool floor. "Better."

Minho slips his suit jacket off and hands it to you. "Here, put this on. It'll help with the cold when we head back."

You take the jacket, pulling it over your shoulders. It's too big, but the weight of it is comforting, and the scent of his cologne clings to the fabric, making you feel a little more secure.

Before you can say anything else, Minho pulls out his phone and quickly dials a number. He holds the phone up to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Yo, Felix," he says when the call connects. "I'm taking Y/N back to the frat. She's okay, but she needs to get out of here. You guys good?"

There's a muffled response on the other end of the line, and Minho nods. "Cool. Tell Jisung I found her, and we'll meet you all back at the house later." Another pause and Minho chuckles softly. "Yeah, I know you were planning on ditching after Hyunjin and Jeongin get their awards. We'll see you guys then."

He hangs up the phone and tucks it back into his pocket, turning his attention back to you. "Alright, let's get the hell out of here."

Without waiting for you to argue, Minho crouches down, turning his back toward you. "Get on."

You blink in surprise. "What?"

"Get on," he repeats, glancing over his shoulder at you. "I'm giving you a piggyback. Your feet are gonna hurt like hell if you walk back barefoot."

You hesitate for a second, feeling a little self-conscious, but the look in Minho's eyes is so earnest, so full of quiet understanding, that you don't argue. You slip your arms around his neck, and he hooks his hands under your thighs, lifting you up with ease. The weight of the world seems to fall away as you rest your chin on his shoulder, your arms wrapped loosely around him.

As he starts walking, you close your eyes for a moment, letting the cool night air hit your face as you exit the building. The campus is quiet at this time of night, only the sound of Minho's footsteps echoing softly on the pavement.

"Feel better?" he asks after a few moments, his voice soft.

"Yeah," you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder. "Thank you, Minho. I just... I couldn't handle it in there."

"I know," he replies gently. "And that's fine. There's no point in torturing yourself for an award you already earned. You don't need to prove anything to anyone."

You nod against him, feeling a little lighter with every step. The anxiety that had been clawing at your chest earlier is slowly dissipating, and you can focus on the steady rhythm of Minho's breathing, the warmth of his back against your chest. He carries you across campus with ease, his hands never faltering as he supports you.

"You know," Minho says after a while, his voice cutting through the quiet, "next time you feel like this, don't wait until it gets so bad, alright? Just grab me, or Jisung, or any of us. We've got you."

You smile slightly, your fingers curling a little tighter around his shoulders. "I'll try."

"You better," he says, a teasing note in his voice, though there's still that underlying sincerity that makes your heart warm. "Because if I have to chase you down in the middle of every fancy event, I'm gonna start charging you for these piggyback rides."

You laugh softly, the sound feeling good in your chest. "Deal. I'll make sure to pay you in pizza."

"Now we're talking."

The rest of the walk is quiet, comfortable. You can feel the weight of the night lifting off your shoulders as you approach the Alpha Phi house. By the time you reach the front door, you feel almost like yourself again, thanks to Minho and his steady presence.

When he finally sets you down in front of the house, he gives you a small smile. "See? Not so bad, right?"

You nod, smiling back at him, feeling more grateful than you can express. "Not so bad at all."

Minho grins at you as he unlocks the door to the Alpha Phi house, holding it open for you to step inside. The familiar warmth of the frat house surrounds you, a stark contrast to the cold, fancy banquet hall you'd just escaped from. The moment you cross the threshold, some of the leftover tension in your body melts away.

"Come on," Minho says, his voice low and relaxed, the same voice that had been grounding you since he found you spiralling. "Let's get you something to drink."

You follow him down the hall toward the kitchen, the soft glow of the house's lights making the space feel cosy, almost like home. The tension from the evening still clings to you a little, but Minho's presence beside you is like a steady anchor, keeping you from drifting back into panic.

When you enter the kitchen, Minho heads straight for the fridge, glancing over his shoulder at you. "What's your poison tonight? You look like you could use something strong."

You laugh softly, settling onto one of the barstools at the island, adjusting your floor-length gown so it drapes neatly around you. "Surprise me."

Minho pulls out a bottle of pineapple juice and a bottle of vodka from the fridge, giving you a wink before he grabs a couple of glasses from the cupboard. He makes quick work of mixing your drink, pouring a generous amount of vodka into the glass before topping it off with juice.

He slides your drink across the counter, the clink of the glass against the marble catching your attention. "Vodka pineapple for the lady," he says, raising his own glass. "And a double JD for me because, fuck, we've earned it."

You chuckle, taking the glass and sipping it. The sweetness of the pineapple juice mixed with the vodka goes down smoothly, and you feel some of the remaining tension in your chest loosen. Minho takes a sip of his own drink, watching you with a soft smile.

"You know," he says after a moment, leaning against the counter, "if it helps at all, you were definitely the most beautiful girl in attendance tonight."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks at his words, and you can't help but smile. "You're full of shit, Minho."

"I'm serious," he insists, his eyes twinkling with amusement but also sincerity. "The moment you walked into the hall in that dress, I'm pretty sure every guy there forgot why the fuck they were even attending. It was all eyes on you."

You shake your head, sipping your drink again to hide the fact that his words make you feel more flustered than you care to admit. "Well, I'm not so sure about that, but thanks."

Minho smirks, taking another sip of his drink before his gaze softens again. "It was also pretty fucking sweet how Jisung's pocket square and tie matched your dress."

You grin, finally letting out a genuine laugh at that. "Yeah, he insisted. Said best friends and co-journalists have to match, so everyone knows we're the shit."

Minho chuckles, shaking his head in that fond, almost exasperated way he always does when he talks about Jisung. "Of course he did."

You're about to take another sip of your drink when you suddenly remember something, and your smile falters. "Shit... I forgot my hairpin in the room."

Minho doesn't hesitate. "Don't worry about it. I'll text Chan, and he'll grab it for you before they leave."

You nod, a little relieved. "Thanks. I'd hate to lose it. It was my grandmother's."

Minho pulls out his phone, already typing a message to Chan. As he sends it, he leans against the counter again, taking another long sip of his drink. "So," he says, his voice casual, "to be completely honest, I was supposed to read your article, but I never got around to it. You know, being a veterinary science major kind of takes up all my fucking time."

He's lying, and you have no idea. Minho read that article the moment it was published, studied every word like it was the most important thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

He remembers the excitement in your voice when you first started talking about the project with Jisung, and he couldn't help but get curious. So, yeah, he read it, but he doesn't want to give that away. He wants you to light up and tell him about it yourself, to see the passion in your eyes as you explain your work.

Your face brightens at his interest, and you lean forward slightly, resting your elbow on the counter as you take another sip of your drink.

"Oh my God, you're missing out," you say, your voice already more animated. "Jisung and I have this theory that Jack the Ripper was actually a woman. A midwife, to be specific."

Minho raises an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. "A midwife? That's a hell of a theory. Go on."

You nod, excited now, the exhaustion from the evening momentarily forgotten. "Right? Think about it. A midwife would have had access to all the knowledge needed to perform those surgical cuts on the victims. And during that time, no one would've questioned a woman walking around in blood-covered clothes. She could've been out at all hours, and people would've just assumed she was delivering a baby or something."

Minho swirls the drink in his glass, watching you intently as you explain. "That actually makes a lot of fucking sense. Victorian sexism would've worked in her favour."

"Exactly!" you exclaim, your eyes lighting up. "Back then, no one would've suspected a woman. They were too focused on looking for some deranged man, and the police reports were all written from a male perspective. They overlooked so many possibilities simply because they didn't think a woman could be capable of something so gruesome."

Minho takes another sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on you. "That's pretty fucking brilliant. What about the eyewitness reports, though? There was at least one person who claimed to see a man near one of the crime scenes, right?"

You nod, already ready to dive into that part of the discussion. "Yeah, but Jisung and I argued that just because someone was in the area doesn't mean they were guilty. There are always people wandering around in cities, especially in a place like Whitechapel during that time. Plus, eyewitness testimony is notoriously unreliable, especially in the dark, in a chaotic place like that."

Minho's lips curl into a small smile as he watches you. You're practically glowing now, completely immersed in the subject matter. This is exactly why he brought it up.

Seeing you like this, seeing you so passionate, it's what he loves most about you. Though he'd never admit that out loud. He sets his glass down and leans in a little closer.

"So, basically," he says, keeping his tone light and teasing, "you're saying Jack the Ripper might've just been an extremely intelligent, sadistic woman who knew how to avoid suspicion by playing into society's sexist expectations."

"Exactly!" you say again, nodding enthusiastically. "It's just a theory, of course, but it fits so many of the facts. And honestly, it makes a lot more sense than half the other theories out there."

Minho chuckles, shaking his head. "I'm impressed. That's some seriously clever shit. I'm pissed I didn't read the article now."

You smirk, taking another sip of your drink. "Well, you can still read it. It's not going anywhere."

"I will," Minho says, though he already knows it word for word. "You and Jisung killed it."

Your smile softens at the compliment, and you feel that warmth in your chest again. The same one that always seems to appear when Minho says things like this. He has a way of making you feel proud of your work, of reminding you that you're capable, even when you don't always believe it yourself.

You glance down at your glass, twirling it in your hands. "Thanks, Minho. It means a lot, really. It was... it was a tough project, but we're both really proud of how it turned out."

"As you should be," he says, his voice soft but firm. "You've always been fucking brilliant. That's why it pisses me off when you get in your head about shit."

You laugh softly, though there's a note of vulnerability in your voice. "Yeah, well, getting in my head is kind of my speciality."

Minho's expression softens, and for a moment, the teasing drops. He steps around the island, standing in front of you as he leans on the counter, his hands resting on the marble surface.

"Listen," he says, his voice lower now, more serious. "I know tonight was rough, but don't let it get to you. You've already proven yourself, not just with the award, but with everything you've done. And you've got people who have your back, alright?"

You blink, a little surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. Minho's always been good at saying the right thing, but this feels different. You meet his gaze, and there's something there, something you can't quite place. It's intense but not overwhelming, grounding in a way that makes your chest feel warm.

"I... yeah," you murmur, your voice softer. "Thanks, Minho. Really."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just holds your gaze, and then he breaks the moment with a small grin. "Now, how about we ditch this heavy shit and enjoy the rest of the night? We've got the whole house to ourselves for a bit."

You laugh, nodding. "Yeah, sounds like a plan."

Minho taps the counter. "I'll top up your drink."

The door to the Alpha Phi house swings open, and the sound of footsteps fills the hallway as the rest of the guys file in after the awards ceremony. You hear Jisung before you see him, his voice cutting through the noise with its usual mixture of excitement and concern.

"Y/N!"

The moment he spots you sitting calmly at the counter, his eyes soften with relief, but his feet don't slow down. He rushes over, crossing the room in a few long strides, and immediately starts fussing over you like a mother hen.

"Shit, are you okay? You should've texted me or something. I would've ditched and come with you."

You can't help but smile at the sight of him. Jisung's still wearing the matching pocket square and tie that he insisted on wearing to match your champagne-coloured gown, though his suit jacket is a little rumpled now from the event. His hair sticks up in odd directions, no doubt from running his fingers through it a thousand times since you left the hall. He looks stressed, but the sight is comforting in its familiarity. You let him fuss, knowing that this is just what he does. What you do for each other.

"I'm fine, Ji," you assure him, though your voice is soft. "Promise."

Jisung's eyes narrow slightly, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders as he bends down to wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on top of your head. "No, you're not," he mumbles, his voice quieter now, almost like he's talking to himself. "It felt wrong up there without you. I fucking hated it."

You reach up and pat his arms, which are still wrapped around you, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'm sorry."

Jisung shakes his head, pressing his cheek to your hair. "No, I should've ditched with you. You know I hate leaving you alone when you're feeling like that. I shouldn't have left you with Minho, that stinky prick."

"Oi!" Minho's voice cuts in from across the kitchen, where he's leaning casually against the counter, drink in hand. He looks amused rather than offended, a teasing grin on his face. "Who do you think you're talking about, you cheeky fucker?"

You giggle at the exchange, and Jisung, ever the dramatic one, tightens his hold on you as if Minho's words have personally wounded him. "I'm talking about you, you smelly asshole," he says, sticking his tongue out at Minho while burying his face further into your hair, clearly unbothered by his friend's retort.

Minho rolls his eyes but says nothing else, instead taking another sip of his drink and shaking his head in mock disbelief. He watches the two of you with a small smile on his lips, though there's something else lingering in his eyes. Something softer, more careful. He doesn't push the banter further, choosing to stay quiet for now.

The door opens again, and Chan enters the kitchen, looking as polished as ever despite the long night. He's still got his suit jacket on, though it's clear he's ready to relax as he pulls out his phone, glancing around at the group.

"Oi, Y/N," he says, catching your attention. "You left something behind."

Chan reaches into his blazer pocket and pulls out your grandmother's sapphire-encrusted hairpin. Relief floods through you as you realize you'd completely forgotten about it being in a bubble of comfort with Minho. You reach out to take it, but before you can, Minho steps forward and gently takes it from Chan's hand.

"Here," Minho says softly, his voice lacking the usual teasing tone as he approaches you. "Let me."

Jisung watches the exchange with narrowed eyes, his arms still wrapped around you. He doesn't say anything, but you can feel the tension in the way his body stiffens slightly as Minho steps in closer.

Minho's touch is gentle as he slides the hairpin back into your hair, taking care to make sure it's secure. His fingers brush against your scalp, sending a soft shiver down your spine, but you ignore the feeling. When he's done, he gives you a small smile, his eyes lingering on yours for just a moment longer than usual.

"Perfect," Minho says softly, stepping back.

Before you can thank him, Jisung immediately shoos him away, his hands fluttering in the air as if to physically push Minho aside. "Alright, alright, back off, Romeo. I've got it from here."

Minho rolls his eyes again, but there's an amused smirk on his face as he steps back toward the counter, grabbing his drink. "You're so fucking possessive, Ji."

Jisung doesn't bother responding to that, instead wrapping his arms more securely around your shoulders as he glares at Minho's back. You don't miss the way Jisung's grip tightens slightly, though he's still careful not to make you uncomfortable. He's always been overprotective when it comes to you, but lately, it's been more intense. Especially when it comes to Minho.

"Chan, have we got anything to drink?" Hyunjin's voice cuts through the tension as he and Jeongin finally make their way into the kitchen, both of them looking ready to relax after the long night.

Chan nods, already pulling out glasses from the cupboard. "Yeah, yeah. What do you want? We've got plenty left from the last party."

As the group starts grabbing drinks and chatting amongst themselves, Minho silently pours you another drink, setting it in front of you with a small smile. You notice that he doesn't say anything, just gives you a look that says he's checking in without being too obvious about it.

Jisung, meanwhile, is still fussing over you, his arms around your shoulders like a security blanket. He doesn't let go, not even when you shift slightly in your seat to take a sip of your drink. He stays close, watching you with worried eyes as if he's waiting for you to show any sign of distress.

"Ji, I'm okay," you assure him again, though your voice is soft. "Really."

He huffs, not fully convinced. "Yeah, well, I'll be the judge of that."

Chan finishes pouring drinks for everyone and turns to the group with a grin, raising his glass. "Alright, before we get too fucked up, let's do a toast. To Jeongin and Hyunjin for their awards, and of course, to Y/N and Jisung for killing it with that award-winning article."

The group raises their glasses in agreement, and Minho tilts his glass toward you, a grin tugging at his lips. "Cheers to Y/N," he says softly, his eyes meeting yours.

You smile back at him, feeling the warmth of his gaze settle over you like a comforting blanket. It's moments like this, when he's not teasing or throwing sarcastic comments, that you feel a strange connection to him, something that you can't quite put your finger on. But before you can dwell on it, Jisung pulls you closer, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

"To us," Jisung mutters, his voice soft in your ear. "But mostly to you."

You chuckle, clinking your glass against his. "To us."

The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter, drinks, and the comfortable warmth of being around friends.

Eventually, Jisung drags you up the stairs, leading you through the dimly lit hallway toward his room. After the long, chaotic night of the awards ceremony, and the endless rounds of small talk and congratulations, this is the sanctuary you need. Being around Jisung, your best friend, feels like hitting reset on a night that left your emotions tangled.

"Come on, let's chill," he says as he pushes open his door. His room is just as messy as always. Clothes scattered on the floor, textbooks stacked haphazardly on his desk, and the faint glow of those stars you stuck to his ceiling two months ago.

You flop onto his bed beside him, both of you lying side by side, staring up at the ceiling. The stars glow faintly in the dark, their soft light casting a surreal calm over the room.

"Remember when you made me put these fucking stars up?" Jisung says, his voice half-teasing, half-nostalgic. "I thought they were gonna look stupid, but..."

"They're kind of nice, right?" you finish for him, smirking. "See? You should listen to me more often."

Jisung snorts. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. This is like, a one-time thing."

The comfortable silence that follows is filled with the distant hum of voices from downstairs, but up here, it's just the two of you. It's moments like this, with Jisung, that you appreciate the ease of your friendship. There's no need to fill every second with conversation. Just being here, next to each other, is enough.

You close your eyes for a second, letting the tension from the night melt away. But then, Jisung, ever the one to break a peaceful moment with something unexpected, speaks up again.

"You know," he starts, and you immediately know there's something coming. His tone is a little too casual. "I was thinking... maybe I should set you up with Felix or Chan."

Your eyes snap open, turning your head toward him, caught completely off guard. "What?"

He's lying there next to you, staring up at the ceiling like he didn't just drop a bombshell on you.

"I'm serious," he continues, his voice still annoyingly nonchalant. "They both think you're amazing and beautiful. Felix especially, he's been crushing on you for ages."

You blink at him, unsure whether to laugh or be genuinely surprised. "Uh... I don't know, Ji. I mean, maybe, but I'd have to think about it."

Jisung shrugs, still staring at the ceiling like this is no big deal. "No pressure. I just think you and Felix could be really good together. He's sweet, thoughtful. Plus, he thinks you're like, Aphrodite-level beautiful."

You snort. "Aphrodite? Really?"

"I'm dead fucking serious," Jisung says, turning his head to look at you. "I've heard him talk about you. The dude practically melts when you're around."

You can't help but smile a little at the thought. Felix has always been a close friend, but you never really thought about him in that way. He's easy to talk to, kind, and funny in that understated way of his.

"I don't know," you say, rolling onto your back again, staring at the stars. "Felix is really sweet, but has he ever actually said anything? Like, to me?"

Jisung shakes his head, waving the question away like it's a minor detail. "No, but come on, he's shy. Attraction is the start, right? You two have good chemistry, and he's definitely into you."

You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. You've always been close with Felix, and while the idea of a date with him doesn't sound bad, it feels unexpected. Like something you hadn't even considered before tonight.

"And Chan?" you ask, more to fill the silence than because you're seriously considering it.

Jisung shrugs again. "Chan's great too, but he's more focused on school and music right now. I think Felix is the better choice if you're looking for something real, you know?"

You can't help but laugh at how serious Jisung sounds. "Since when are you the expert on my love life?"

"Hey," he protests, sitting up on the bed and crossing his arms. "I'm your best friend. I know you better than anyone, and I know what's good for you."

You roll your eyes. "Right. Of course, you do."

"I'm just saying," Jisung continues, grinning now, "one date with Felix won't hurt. See where things go. If it works out, great. If not, no big deal."

You sigh, leaning back on your elbows. He's persistent, you'll give him that. But there's something about the way he's pushing this that makes you wonder if there's more to it than just wanting to set you up with Felix.

"Okay," you say finally, letting out a deep breath. "Fine. One date won't hurt."

Jisung beams at you, clearly pleased with himself. "Fuck yeah. I'll talk to him tomorrow and make sure everything's set for tomorrow night."

You raise an eyebrow, sitting up fully now. "Wait, tomorrow night? You're already planning this?"

"Yup," Jisung says, completely unbothered by your incredulity. "I'll talk to Felix in the morning. He's probably just waiting for an excuse to ask you out anyway."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Jisung just grins, leaning back on his hands. "You love me."

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. "Yeah, yeah."

The room falls into another comfortable silence, the distant sounds of the guys downstairs still faintly audible. You stare up at the stars again, wondering what tomorrow will bring. Felix is sweet, and he's always been a good friend. Maybe this date could be something more.

But before you can think too much about it, Jisung speaks up again.

"Felix is seriously into you, you know," he says, his voice softer now. "He hasn't said it outright, but I can tell. You're the kind of person he'd fall hard for."

You glance over at Jisung, wondering where this sudden emotional shift is coming from. "You're really sure about this, huh?"

Jisung nods, his expression more serious now. "Yeah. I just want you to be with someone who sees how fucking amazing you are. And Felix is one of the few guys I know who would treat you the way you deserve."

There's something about the way he says it that makes your chest tighten. Jisung has always been protective of you, sometimes to the point of being overbearing, but it comes from a place of genuine care. You know he just wants the best for you.

"Okay," you say quietly, more to reassure him than anything else. "If you're that sure, I'll give it a shot."

Jisung breaks into a grin again, clearly relieved. "Good. Trust me, you won't regret it."

What neither of you knows is that Minho is standing just outside the door, his jaw clenched, fists curled at his sides. He's heard every word of the conversation, and it's taking everything in him to not burst into the room right now.

Minho knows exactly what Jisung is doing. He's pushing Felix toward you because he doesn't trust Minho. And it pisses him off more than he can even articulate. Jisung thinks Minho is going to break your heart, that he's just some player who doesn't care. But Jisung has no idea how hard Minho's fallen for you, how much he's been holding back because he's been waiting for the right moment to tell you.

And now, hearing Jisung practically set you up with Felix? It's infuriating.

Minho grits his teeth, leaning against the wall as he listens to your conversation. He could go in there, stop this whole thing, and tell you how he really feels. But he knows Jisung won't make that easy. Jisung will fight him every step of the way because he doesn't think Minho is good enough for you.

But Jisung is wrong. Minho knows he is.

He'll prove it. One way or another.

The restaurant is buzzing with the soft hum of conversations and the clinking of cutlery. You and Felix walk through the dimly lit space, a hostess guiding you to a table near the window. The atmosphere is intimate, maybe a little too intimate. The soft glow of the candles on the table reflects off the wine glasses, making the whole thing feel like the date Jisung had envisioned.

Except, it's not.

You tug at the edge of your black mid-thigh blazer dress, adjusting it slightly as you sit down, your thigh-high stiletto boots brushing against the leg of the chair. The sapphire-encrusted hairpin in your hair catches the light, just like the sapphire necklace resting against your collarbone.

Your grandmother's heirlooms feel like a protective layer tonight, a way to steady your nerves even though Felix has never been the type to make you feel anxious.

Felix slides into the seat across from you, and for a second, you take in his outfit: black slacks and a half-buttoned white shirt, his hands adorned with chunky silver rings. He looks good. And that, combined with the fact that you're both dressed like you're on the cover of a fashion magazine, only adds to the absurdity of the situation.

"Okay," Felix starts, his eyebrows raising as he takes a long look around the room. "This is fucking weird, right?"

You breathe out a laugh, feeling the tension melt slightly. "So fucking weird. What the fuck was Jisung thinking?"

Felix leans back, shaking his head. "I honestly don't know. He cornered me, said something about how I think you're beautiful, and then put two and two together and somehow got ten."

"He's been pushing this since last night. Something about how we'd be 'perfect' together. I guess he thought your opinion on my looks was enough for a love story."

Felix laughs, and the sound is warm and genuine. "Well, to be fair, I do think you're beautiful. I have eyes, don't I? But that doesn't mean I've been harbouring some secret crush on you."

"Thank God," you sigh, leaning back in your chair with relief. "So we can just treat this like a regular friends' dinner?"

Felix raises his glass of wine, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "To a friends' dinner."

You clink glasses, the soft ting sounding like an agreement between the two of you. Already, the night feels lighter. The weirdness of it all slowly dissipates as you both sip your wine and settle into familiar conversation.

"So," you say, gesturing around the restaurant, "if this is supposed to be a 'friends' dinner,' let's make the most of it. What's new with you? Still managing to ace all your classes while simultaneously being everyone's favourite stress baker?"

Felix grins, his eyes sparkling as he leans forward. "Of course. My cookies are keeping half the campus sane, honestly. The other half's still in denial."

You laugh, knowing all too well how Felix's baked goods have gained a sort of cult following around school. He's practically famous for them.

"Speaking of which," he continues, "I made those macadamia nut ones you like the other day. Jisung stole half of them before I could bring them over."

"Typical," you say, shaking your head. "I'll have to fight him for the rest. You know how much I love those."

The conversation flows naturally as you both dive into your usual back-and-forth. The wine loosens you up a bit, and soon enough, you're laughing loudly with Felix, completely relaxed. It feels like any other hangout, the weird pretence of a date"falling away.

The waiter comes by to check on you, refilling your wine glasses as you both finish the first bottle. Felix eyes the bottle in the waiter's hands, then glances at you, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

"You know," he says, his voice lowering as if he's letting you in on some grand secret. "We could get a free bottle of wine right now."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."

Felix grins like he's thought of the most brilliant plan. He slides one of the many rings off his fingers, stands up, and before you can even process what's happening, he gets down on one knee in front of you.

The people at nearby tables glance over, curious, but Felix ignores them, focusing entirely on you.

"Y/N," he says in an exaggeratedly serious voice, holding up the ring like it's some priceless artefact. "Will you make me the happiest guy in this restaurant and marry me?"

The wine has quelled any anxiety you might've felt earlier, so instead of feeling awkward, you decide to play along.

"Yes!" you exclaim dramatically, sticking out your hand for him to slide the ring onto your finger. "Of course, I'll marry you!"

The tables around you erupt into applause, people clapping and cheering as if they just witnessed the most romantic proposal of the century. Felix stands up, a smirk on his face, and the waiter, looking entirely caught up in the moment, hurries over to offer congratulations.

"Congrats!" the waiter says, looking genuinely excited. "Let me get you two a complimentary bottle of our finest wine to celebrate."

You barely hold back your laughter as the waiter rushes off. Felix slides back into his chair, grinning from ear to ear.

"I can't believe that worked," you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

Felix raises his glass again, this time with a proud look in his eyes. "To my fake fiancée and free wine."

You clink glasses again, still giggling as you drink to your ridiculous plan. Just when you think it couldn't get better, a couple from a nearby table leans over and says, "We've got your bill tonight. Congrats again!"

You and Felix exchange wide-eyed looks, barely managing to hold back more laughter. "Holy shit," Felix mutters under his breath. "We just hit the jackpot."

As you drink your newly acquired bottle of wine, the night only becomes more fun. The awkwardness that had hung over the evening at the start is long gone, replaced by pure enjoyment. You and Felix settle back into conversation as the restaurant continues to buzz around you.

"So," Felix says after a sip of wine, his gaze drifting toward the sapphire and diamond necklace around your neck. "Tell me about the heirlooms. That necklace and the pin. They've gotta be worth something, right?"

You nod, tracing the edge of your necklace absentmindedly. "Yeah, they are. My grandmother left them to me. She had a lot of money."

Felix leans forward, intrigued. "I had no idea. So, like, how much are we talking?"

You smile, not bothered by his curiosity. Felix has always been straightforward, and you appreciate that about him. "Well, she was a CEO. She raised me after my parents died, so I inherited pretty much everything. I've got shares in her company and in the other businesses she invested in."

Felix's eyes widen slightly. "So you're rich."

You shrug, sipping your wine. "I guess I am."

"Damn," Felix says, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "Jisung never mentioned that part."

You laugh softly. "Yeah, I don't go around announcing it. I'm not really the 'rich heiress' type, you know?"

Felix nods, understanding. "Makes sense. Still, that's kind of badass. You've got all this wealth and power, and you're still just you."

You smile, feeling the sincerity behind his words. "Thanks, Lix."

The conversation drifts after that, touching on light topics as you both finish the second bottle of wine. The restaurant is still bustling, but it feels like you and Felix are in your own little world, enjoying the absurdity of the evening.

After a while, Felix leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "You know why Jisung set us up, right?"

You raise an eyebrow, your mind still pleasantly buzzed from the wine. "Because he's an idiot who can't read people at all?"

Felix snorts, shaking his head. "Besides that."

You tilt your head, genuinely curious. "No, enlighten me."

Felix grins, but there's something knowing in his eyes. "Well, I'll let you figure that out for yourself. I won't ruin the fun."

You roll your eyes, playfully smacking his arm. "You're such a dick."

Felix just laughs, finishing the last of his wine before setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. "Hey, I'm just saying, Jisung had his reasons. You'll figure it out eventually."

You shake your head, still smiling as you lean back in your chair. The night has been a whirlwind of laughter, fake proposals, and more wine than you expected. Whatever Jisung's reasons were, you're just glad the evening turned into something fun instead of the awkward mess it could have been.

Felix pulls the car up to your apartment complex, the quiet hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between the two of you. . It had turned into a night you didn't expect, but somehow, it felt exactly right.

Felix glances at you as you unbuckle your seatbelt. "Well, that was fun."

You chuckle, shaking your head as you gather your bag and open the door. "So much fun. I don't know how we pulled that off."

Felix's grin is playful, his silver rings catching the dim light. "What can I say? We make a pretty good fake couple."

You laugh again, stepping out of the car and leaning back in through the open window. "Goodnight, Felix. Thanks for the... whatever that was."

Felix smirks. "It was an unforgettable friends' dinner. You know, one for the history books."

"Goodnight, Lix," you repeat, still grinning as you wave.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replies, watching you head toward the building.

As you walk to your apartment, you feel lighter than you have in days. Felix always has that effect on you. He makes everything seem easier, less complicated. The night could've been weird and awkward, but it turned out to be exactly what you needed: fun, simple, and completely free of stress. Jisung's matchmaking might've been misguided, but at least it had resulted in a memorable night with one of your closest friends.

You unlock your door and step inside, immediately kicking off your boots with a sigh of relief. Your apartment is quiet, a stark contrast to the lively restaurant you just left. It feels good to be home, and you head straight to the kitchen, still feeling the buzz of the wine as you pour yourself another glass. The cool liquid slides down your throat, grounding you after such a surreal evening.

As you set the glass down on the counter, you reach up to take off your sapphire necklace, your fingers brushing against the cool metal. You remove the matching hairpin, carefully setting it down next to the necklace before turning your attention to the silver rings on your fingers. You begin slipping them off one by one, the rhythmic movement soothing after such an eventful night.

But then, there's a knock at your door.

You pause, glancing toward the front door with a furrowed brow. It's late, and you're not expecting anyone. Curiosity piqued, you set down the last of your rings and walk toward the door, glass of wine still in hand.

When you open it, you're greeted by a sight you weren't expecting: Minho, standing in the hallway, his expression unreadable, but there's something intense in his eyes.

"Minho?" you say, your voice a little surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face, then down to your lips. "Did you kiss him?"

You blink, confused. "What?"

Minho takes a step closer, his voice more insistent. "Did you kiss Felix?"

The question catches you off guard. You feel your heart skip a beat, and suddenly, you're not sure what to say. "No," you answer honestly, "I didn't kiss Felix."

Minho exhales sharply, like he's been holding his breath. "Okay... okay, good."

You raise an eyebrow, still confused by his sudden appearance and his line of questioning. "Minho, what the hell is this about? Why are you asking me about Felix?"

Minho meets your eyes, his gaze unwavering. "Because I still have a chance."

"A chance?" you repeat, feeling even more lost in this conversation. "What are you talking about?"

Minho runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated, but not at you—more like at the situation. His voice softens when he speaks again, though there's still that intensity behind it. "I lied."

You tilt your head, frowning slightly. "What do you mean, you lied?"

Minho lets out a frustrated breath, looking almost embarrassed for a moment. "About your article. I said I didn't read it, remember? When we were in the kitchen last night, after the awards thing? I told you I didn't get around to reading it."

You nod slowly, still not sure where this is going. "Yeah...?"

"I lied," Minho says, meeting your gaze again. "I read it the second it was published. I've read it more than once, actually. Like an embarrassing amount of times. I said I hadn't read it because I saw how stressed you were about everything, and we were alone, and I knew if I asked you about it, you'd light up. And I wanted to be the one responsible for that."

You stare at him, the weight of his confession sinking in slowly. Minho, always so cocky and teasing, is suddenly standing in front of you, admitting that he'd lied just to see you happy. The realization hits you harder than you expected.

For a moment, you're at a loss for words. "Minho..."

He takes a step forward, closing the space between you, and his voice is quieter now. "Can I come in?"

You nod, stepping aside to let him in. Minho walks into your apartment, the atmosphere between you shifting. He turns to face you, his expression serious, more vulnerable than you've ever seen him.

"I like you," he says, his voice steady. "Like, I really like you. And Jisung knows that. He hates it because he thinks I'm going to break your heart, but I'm not. I swear, I wouldn't do that."

You feel your pulse quicken at his words, your mind racing to catch up. "Minho, I..."

He holds up a hand, cutting you off gently. "You look so fucking beautiful right now, and it's really distracting me. So I'm going to kiss you, if that's okay."

Your breath catches in your throat, but the answer comes easily. "Yeah, that's okay."

Minho doesn't waste any more time. He steps forward, closing the distance between you, his hands gently cupping your face. His lips meet yours in a kiss that's soft at first, tentative, as if he's waiting for some kind of permission. But then you kiss him back, your arms wrapping around his neck, and the kiss deepens.

Minho's hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space left between your bodies. The kiss is slow but intense, each movement deliberate, like he's savouring the moment. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his grip tightening slightly as his hands roam over your back.

You break the kiss for just a second, gasping for air, but Minho doesn't let you go far. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he speaks.

Minho's forehead rests gently against yours, and the air between you is thick with tension. Your heart is racing, every nerve on edge, and just when you think the silence will swallow the moment, you feel a giggle bubbling up from your chest.

It's ridiculous, the whole situation. The intensity of the kiss, the way Minho's hands feel so warm and grounding on your waist. You pull back just slightly, enough to catch your breath and give him a mischievous look.

"Oh, by the way," you say, trying to keep a straight face, "Felix and I got engaged."

Minho blinks, clearly caught off guard. "Huh?" He stares at you, confusion clear in his eyes, as if trying to piece together whether you're serious or not.

You can't help the laugh that escapes. "Yep," you nod, keeping up the act. "I'm set to marry Felix. So, congratulations, we're now having an affair."

Minho's brow furrows for a second, and then realization dawns on his face. A grin spreads across his lips. "Oh, so that's how it is, huh? I'm the dirty little secret now?"

You smirk, feeling a little more daring. "Exactly. I'm cheating on my fiancé with you. How scandalous."

He hums, his thumb tracing slow circles on your hip. "I don't mind being the side guy. Adds some spice, don't you think?" He leans in again, his breath ghosting over your lips. "Just keep this between us, yeah? Don't want Felix to find out."

The playfulness between you two eases the tension, and you laugh softly, completely forgetting about everything else for a moment. You're about to respond when, out of nowhere, the door to your apartment swings open with a loud bang, making you both freeze.

"No! This is exactly what I was trying to prevent!"

You and Minho quickly step apart, your heart racing for a different reason now. Jisung looks at the two of you with wide, panicked eyes, like he's just walked into his worst nightmare. His hands fly up in the air as he groans dramatically, pacing a few steps.

"This is exactly why I set you up with Felix!" Jisung exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Minho. "I knew this would happen! And now he's got his STD-riddled claws into you!"

Minho's jaw drops in disbelief. "Okay, hold the fuck up," he says, hands raised in defence. "I have no STDs, and I'd really like to clear that up before we go any further with this conversation."

You take a slow, deep breath, pressing your lips together to hold back a laugh. Jisung, however, is far from amused. He looks like he's about to have a full-on breakdown as he turns to you, his face full of concern.

"Listen to me," he says, his voice urgent. "He's going to break your heart! Minho doesn't do relationships—he just flirts and messes around. He's like a... a... heartbreaker! A professional one!"

Minho rolls his eyes, stepping closer to Jisung, clearly fed up. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Jisung, I've liked her this entire time, and you know that!" His voice is sharp, filled with frustration. "You're the one who set her up with Felix, knowing damn well how I feel!"

Jisung glares right back, crossing his arms over his chest like a protective barrier. "I did it because I know you, Minho. You're all charming and smooth when you want something, but then you bail as soon as it gets serious. I'm not letting that happen to Y/N."

You shake your head, walking over to grab your glass of wine from the counter. The tension between Minho and Jisung has been building, and now it's finally spilling over. You sip your wine, deciding that the best course of action is to stay out of it and let them bicker it out.

Minho takes a deep breath, his frustration visible. "You think I'm going to hurt her? Jisung, you've got no idea how hard it's been trying to be patient with this shit. You set her up with Felix like some overprotective dad, and now you walk in here acting like you're the fucking saviour of the day."

Jisung's face turns redder, and he steps forward, eyes blazing. "You're my best friend, and so is Y/N! I've seen what you do to girls, and I'm not letting you do that to her."

Minho doesn't back down, stepping forward as well, the space between them shrinking fast. "You think I'm like that with her? Do you even know how long I've been waiting to make a move, only for you to play matchmaker with Felix?"

Jisung's mouth opens and closes like a fish, clearly lost for words.

You, on the other hand, take another slow sip of your wine. The back-and-forth between them is almost entertaining. They're like two kids fighting over a toy, except this time, you're the toy, which is both ridiculous and hilarious.

"Look," Minho says, his voice a little calmer now but still firm, "I'm not playing around with her. I've been serious about this, and the fact that you think I'm just going to fuck her over pisses me off."

Jisung throws his hands in the air again, clearly exasperated. "Of course I think that! You're Minho! You don't do relationships!"

Minho rubs a hand over his face, clearly trying to stay calm. "God, you're an idiot sometimes. This isn't just some hookup, okay?"

Jisung doesn't seem convinced. "You expect me to believe that? After everything?"

At this point, you've had enough. You walk over to Jisung, wine glass still in hand, and without a word, you pour the rest of the wine into his mouth. He tries to protest, but you give him no choice. He swallows the wine, sputtering slightly as he looks at you in surprise.

"Go sit in the living room," you say, pushing him toward the door with more force than you probably should. "We'll deal with you later."

Jisung stumbles into the living room, still flustered and clearly not done with the argument. But before he can say anything else, you shut the door and lock it, effectively trapping him inside.

Minho watches the whole thing unfold with an amused smile. "You know it's going to take him about an hour to realize he can unlock that from the inside, right?"

You shrug, turning back to face him with a grin. "That gives us about an hour of peace."

Minho's smirk widens as he steps forward, his hands sliding around your waist again. He pulls you close, and the heat between you reignites instantly. "There's a lot I can do in an hour," he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and teasing.

Your heart skips a beat as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. "Oh yeah?" you whisper, your voice daring.

He kisses you again, this time with more urgency, and you melt into it, your body pressing against his. His hands slide down to your thighs, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off the ground. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, holding onto him as he carries you through the apartment.

"Bedroom?" he asks between kisses, his voice low and filled with need.

"Second door," you manage to say, your voice breathless.

Minho kicks open the door to your bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights as he carries you inside. The door swings shut behind you with a satisfying thud, and with that, the world outside ceases to exist.

All that matters now is the heat between you, the feel of his hands on your skin, and the promise of what's to come in the next hour.

Minho kicks the bedroom door shut behind him, and in that moment, you know that an hour is more than enough time.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM A COURT OF WINGS AND RUIN *  assorted lines from the novel by sarah j. maas, adjust as necessary

only you can decide what breaks you. only you.

tonight, i want you to wear that crown to bed. only the crown.

i believe everything happens for a reason.

this could be a very bad idea.

we can make whatever rules we want.

leave a note... or tell me next time.

you have every right to question me.

i don't see you spouting poetry.

i missed you. every second. every breath.

you're my equal. and as much as that means we have each other's backs in public, it also means we grant each other the gift of honesty... of truth.

is there a purpose to your visit, or may i return to my book?

kindness can thrive even amongst cruelty.

it's a rare person to face who they are and not run from it... not be broken by it.

it's fine if you drink directly from it.

i wish i had been there to stop it. i should have been there to stop it.

my goal was bigger than revenge.

i belong to no one, but my heart belongs to you.

i hadn't realized i was a villain in your narrative.

there are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives.

you are your own person, you make your own choices.

i'd like a word.

you are a better friend to me than i ever was to you.

i want to share this bed with you. i want you to hold me.

remember that you are a wolf, and you cannot be caged.

we're all a little broken in our own ways... in places no one might see.

i would have waited five hundred more years for you. a thousand years.

you are a warrior, and warriors know when to pick their fights.

they took what is ours. and we do not allow these crimes to go unpunished.

i believe that everything happened exactly the way it had to... so i could find you.

it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters.

ready to be wicked?

one life may change the world.

i missed you, too.

this is war. we don't have the luxury of good ideas - only picking between the bad ones.

it is a new world, and we must decide how we are to end this old one and begin it anew.

i see all of you. and there is not one part that i do not love with everything i am.

it'll be dangerous.

i have no regrets in my life, but this.

i will find you in the next world, the next life.

what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength.

i won't tell anyone unless you say so.

when you erupt, make sure it is felt across worlds.

you bow to no one.

leave this world a better place than how you found it.

you do not fear. you do not falter. you do not yield.

will you come with me on this adventure, and all the rest?

do not get distracted. do not linger.

it's already ended badly.

for someone who was just dead, you seem remarkably relaxed.

they're terribly cruel to me.

here's to family reunions.

i will fight with everything i have, too.

what time are we back in the training ring tomorrow?

daylight is a precious resource.

[thegirlwhowatchedeverything]

The conversation about the death of Sydney's mom in 2x9 is so unhinged. At first we're made to think Carmy's responding the way 99.9% of people would to hearing about someone's dead loved one - "I'm sorry" - but no, before his mind arrives at that automatic human response, his first thought is to apologize for not knowing this deeply personal fact about his girlfriend business partner: I'm sorry...I feel like I should have known that. The writers know what they we doing. Especially in the context of the next part of the conversation. Syd immediately shuts down what she thinks is the token apology she's been on the receiving end of for 20+ years. I honestly don't think she even hears what he says after "I'm sorry". It's only after she shuts him down for what she thinks is the token apology that Carmy actually gives said token apology. For whhyyy did they write I feel like I should have known that. I mean we know why but let's do a quick Claire comparison. After creepily getting Carmy's number from Fak, this exchange happens in 2x3:

Claire: Okay can you just, can you just not make this weird? (the cognitive dissonance of this statement, Claire, babe...) Like I just need a favor. My cousin bailed on me.

Carmy: What, Big Denny?

Claire: No, Mac. Denny's dead.

Carmy: Oh. Damn, Denny.

Claire: Yeah, totally sucks, but I have to move all this shit for my mom who is not dead. She's absolutely thriving...(rest of convo is irrelevant to my point)

There was no narrative need to emphasize the fact that Claire's mom is alive (and thriving!) other than to directly contrast Sydney. You can't even say oh it's a throwback to the dark humor of S1 with the two "I'm not dead, my brother's dead" conversations Carmy has with the health inspector lady (1x2) and Mr. Szorski at Cicero's catering gig (1x4) because those scenes are dark and sad and funny because we know and care about Carmy and Mikey whereas we do not know or care about Big Denny or Claire's mom. Carmy and Mikey are the absolute driving forces of the show, especially in S1 whereas we never see or hear about those two other characters. But, interestingly, Carmy clearly knew Big Denny and didn't even respond with the (as established) token "I'm sorry." Whereas he looks absolutely anguished over Sydney's mom, a woman he's never met and knows absolutely nothing about. But he plays it like he's finding out about the death of his mother in law because he feels like he should have known. And yes, granted in this context dead mom > dead cousin on the emotional scale but still. Carmy's two reactions are so starkly opposite.

It's just so pointed to have Carmy react to the deaths of his girlfriend's and girl-who-is-a friend's relatives, no? We knew the reveal of Sydney's mom was coming because it's narratively relevant, it's such a formative part of Sydney (hence why it hits Carmy like a gut punch). But to unnecessarily bring up Claire's mom for what other reason than contrast with Sydney, right?

Okay, to bring it back to the scene in question - this man is able to pull the biggest smile and laugh from Syd all season by matching her energy and making a deadpan joke about her deceased mom. But it's fine because he doesn't think he's funny (1x8). He doesn't need to bring pleasure or amusement to others (2x10). I can't.

[nicosraf]

It's my birthday! And Angels Before Man's second birthday from the original publishing! And almost three years since the original draft of it! Wow! Thank you all a million times for being here. Really, genuinely

I'd like for this extremely long post to be happier ! But a lot of people are really troubled by the United States election. There's a lot of fear-mongering online about what'll happen and a lot of real threats to marginalized people in the U.S. and abroad. I don't talk about my own identities a ton. I'm a gay, trans, Mexican from the US-Mex border. The vast majority of my family, community, and friends are immigrants of varying legal statuses. I could lose everything!! I fear for my family! My friends! For my body and my heart!

My mom called me yesterday morning, though, basically asking for an explanation. She told me she was shocked, she was scared, and I said that so was I, then we said, "Pos ni modo." Ni modo!! Oh well!!! What can we do now? We can keep doing what we've always done. Survive. That's all you really have to do at the end of the day, you know, survive.

My family is from a rough Mexican city that fell apart when I was little, a place where my own family has been kidnapped and bodies have been left mutilated in the street for everyone to see. The radio spoke in code to let you know not to go outside when things got really bad. There used to be mariachis in the street to greet American tourists but by the time I was little, they were mostly gone. Boarded up, abandoned stores and boarded up, abandoned homes. I remember being scared, and I remember not knowing what to do listening to a shoot out right outside. I remember my heart stopping when my family was stopped by the soldiers and they demanded money out of us for the first time.

(And I can talk also about living on the other side. The hyper policing, ICE, the racism when my school played against other schools, my parents forbidding me from speaking Spanish outside our Mexican enclave and to stay close to them, and I can talk about the aggression from the white nuns at my catholic school toward the latino kids, I can talk about having to see the border patrol every day just to go to school, I can even talk about Trump-supporters coming down to the border and making a mess of the place and I can talk and I can talk but why? what for??)

My family is all (mostly) still around. I'm here also. We're still here. All of that horrible stuff happened and is still happening to us y ni modo!! Ni modo ! The fight continues. You'll be fine if you allow yourself to be, and if you're not, then you really gave it your best shot, and the people around you will see that you did.

I know for a lot of people there might be the urge to spiral into doom and grieve, but you don't need to borrow the grief of the future. Today you can get up and roll up your sleeves and clean the house. That's what my parents tell me to do when I'm sad. Ponte a limpiar. Ponte a trabajar. I used to get mad at them for it, but in the end, you're only in charge of yourself and the places/things that you upkeep.

I was raised around nopales (prickly pear cacti) and, many years ago, I threw one out of my parent's house because I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't want it. I figured it'd get eaten by something or die somehow. The nopal started growing instead, and it's still there. It even grew a flower, though it hasn't given us a pear yet. My dad doesn't like the pears/tuna but my mom does, so we went out to check on it and while we were there, we heard a bird singing. He looked up and he told me it was a cenzontle and that it was singing a little song for the nopal. I had this thought about how even though I basically tried to kill it, the nopal was growing, thriving. it's an easy metaphor to make, but the earth gives you simple lessons sometimes.

(The monarchs pass by every year. They don't even do it legally. They cut the border line and don't wait their turn to talk to the Customs guys!!! They just fly overhead then look back at us like we're crazy. How can we explain this to them? How do I tell them that there's a place that hates us both)

All you have to do is survive. Whatever happens to me or my family or my friends, we will find a way to grow and find birds to sing along with. If there's so much grief in the future, then we can grieve when that time comes. In other words, canta y no llores. All you have to do is survive. Take it hour by the hour. Pick up the broom and get to work while you can.

Because I've talked too much, I wanted to remind everyone that my ebooks versions of my writing will always be free to read.

Maybe it'll come as a shock to you that a lot of ABM was about coping with losing a home forever, of remembering the feeling of wall paint that you will never feel again. But it's about survival too. I hope you all take care of yourselves as much as we can. This isn't a sad post! Go out and enjoy what you have! Go for a snack. Protect yourself however youre able to. I'm so lucky to have a birthday, to have lived this long. I hope my work will live on no matter how much the world might despise it. I've survived this far despite the world too, and so will ABM... I hope ! :)

[tonycries]

is there any tea u feel comfy sharing abt ur ex?

Oh my god nonnie, where do I start 😭😭 Okayokay so I think one of the (tragically) funniest things about one of em would be when we were quite a few months into the relationship and everything was fine and dandy - perfect, even.

But then lo and behold this man has to go on a three-day workshop thing to another country. Keep in mind - three days.

Sadly, I couldn't go but he does, which is great n' all we text and talk constantly but then TELL ME WHY ALL OF A SUDDEN HE STARTS GASLIGHTING ME INTO THINKING WE AREN'T DATING??

I'm like 😁 hello 😁 what 😁

Bro straight up tells me we had more of a "homie thing" and that nahhh there were no sparks between us anyway, but that's not what you were saying when I got you to play DTI n' wear matching ribbons with me but I guess your bros wouldn't know that 😕❌

Anywayssss, some of my friends went on this trip, too - turns out on the second day (the SECOND out of a THREE DAY TRIP) he met a girl n' they started talking and, ah well y'know how the story goes. He comes back to the country a taken man but NOT BY ME - instead by that girl?? Sorta????

Then he was trynna play us both but I stopped that shit real quick 😭 Got prettyyyy weird because we're in the same friendgroup but everyone was on my side since the beginning anyway 😵‍💫

But yeah in case y'all want an update, those two did long distance (after knowing each other for less than 48 hours, dear lord) and then broke up 💀 I'm thriving n' he just kinda haunts my dms, we're still kinda friends tho (IKIK I'M SORRY I CAN FEEL THE TOMATOES BEING THROWN AT ME BUT 😕)

ETA: Then idk maybe he felt bad because he started trynna be some strange wingman thing for another one of my friends and I like 😭 Dw I fully blocked him out because MY GUY 😭😭 you are the LAST person I wanna hear relationship advice from 😭😭😭

[carlos-in-glasses]

How are you dealing with Tarlos being over? I’m seriously not good. It helps that Ronen said they are best friends off screen but knowing that we will never see them together again is really making me sad.

Hello! Thank you for this question. Firstly, a huge internet hug for you because I really feel your pain 💔❤️❤️❤️❤️ and this is a topic we're all grappling with I'm sure. In terms of Tarlos as characters, I'm trying not to look at it as them being totally 'over' because they and the other characters can live on through art and fanfic, just like they did during the hiatuses between seasons. We didn't need 'new' canon content to keep creating. We just...kept creating. Although this was perhaps fuelled by looking forward to the show’s return, I don't see why that has to be all that different now. There are fandoms that revolve around single books, single movies, and thrive on a lot less content than we have to work with. 

However, I appreciate that you might not be a reader of fic, and indeed even if you are…..The show itself and the physical portrayal of these characters is certainly ending far too soon, and honestly I fucking hate that. I feel sad in my body. I'd go as far to say I'm actually bitter about it, and bitterness is a horrible, horrible feeling! I keep thinking – if we hadn't had a season 3, we'd have missed out on so many amazing moments on screen, culminating in the proposal. If we hadn't had a season 4, we'd have missed out on the soulmates scene and the wedding! No season 5, no seeing TK being flung onto a dresser, no dancing at the party, none of the Enzo/Jonah/Carlos' investigation stuff that I'm LOVING. Which leaves me with this strong ache as I wonder what we are missing out on with no season 6, 7, 8... 

So, the silver lining is that the fandom will make the best out of a shit situation creatively, but it is a shit situation in reality. I think it's absolutely fine for us to mourn this loss and be there for each other, because those of us who profoundly love this show and Tarlos are all in it together and understand the magnitude. I am certainly in a weird state of grief not related to death but related to this different kind of loss, and there will always be part of me hurting over this thing I love so much. I only found the show after season 3 and it just doesn't feel like I've had enough time with it. I haven’t had enough fun!

I hope we do get to see Ronen and Rafa reunite again from time to time. They’ll be at the Paris convention in December, and maybe others along the way if their schedules allow. I was lucky enough to go to the one in June last year and Ronen, Rafa, Natacha and Sierra certainly did appear to be very close irl, so definitely do take heart in that – it’s a reason to believe we’ll get at least glimpses of them together going forward.

So yeah. I’m finding good things where I can in all this, but the headline is that I really am sad and struggling too, and I’m so sorry you are and I hope you’re able to fill your day with things that help you to feel a bit better. I hope everyone who reads this is able to do the same.

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Bad Idea, Right?

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Word Count: 665

Warning(s): implied sex

Literally something so small and fun just because I wanted to. This song feels so Trevor too.

—————————————

“Ah, Hey”

That golden hair, the creak of the front door. Shit.

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months

But I'm out right now, and I'm all fucked up

And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone

And I'm sensin' some undertone

And I'm right here with all my friends

But you're sendin' me your new address

And I know we're done, I know we're through

But, God, when I look at you

“You wanna come in?” His voice can put me in a trance any day. Why’d we break up again?

My brain goes, "Ah"

Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

He dragged me inside without much resistance. I wanted him even if I didn’t want to admit it. I wouldn’t be at his place if I didn’t miss him.

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

I should probably, probably not

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

He led me to his room.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

He opened the door.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

I was against the wall.

Seein' you tonight, whatever, it's fine

I kissed him.

Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

"I only see him as a friend, " the biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend, I just tripped and fell into his bed

I woke up holding onto him. What did I do? I turned to look at him. Messy hair, pretty eyes closed in peace. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I knew we’d go back to being nothing when he became conscious. So I thrived in the silence between us. I pretended it was real for a little while longer.

Now I'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans

I know I should stop-, but I can't

And I told my friends I was asleep

But I never said where or in whose sheets

And I pull up to your place, on the second floor

And you're standin', smiling at the door

And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men

But I really can't remember when

How do you explain to your friends the guy you left the bar for is your ex? They hated Trevor. I could never figure out why. Then he cheated on me. But it’s Trevor. He’s so hot.

My brain goes, "Ah"

Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

I should probably, probably not

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

My phone rang again.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

It’s his contact.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Why didn’t I block him?

Seein' you tonight, whatever, it's fine

I picked up anyway.

Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

"I only see him as a friend, " the biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend, I just tripped and fell into his bed

“It’s great to see you again..”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex

Can't two people reconnect?

The biggest lie I ever said

I just tripped and fell into his bed

My brain goes, "Ah"

Can't hear my thoughts

“Don’t act like you hate me.”

“I still do. Just not your body.”

The biggest lie I ever said

My brain goes, "Ah"

Can't hear my thoughts

I just tripped and fell into his bed

Thoughts

Blah

He always knew how to get what he wanted.

Thoughts

Blah

It’s tragic I know I’ll always give it to him.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[tparker48]

Request for anonymous

Fog scoured over the cul-de-sac as the sun rose from its curtain of mist. In a house at the ed of the street, a tall man named Guro Awakened from his slumber lumbering himself out of bed as he stared groggily at the clock.

“6AM..” he rubbed his chin, “Fuck we overslept, we need to get to airport..” he stuck his toothbrush in his mouth before heading to the bedroom, two lumps bunched beneath a sheet on the windowsill. He prodded at their curvatures with a finger. "Brock, Jerry, up and adam! We're gonna be late for the flight if we’re not gone in a few minutes."

The lumps shift beneath the sheets, growing in size as the cotton balls surrounding them dispersed to the floor. Scrawny arms poked from one side of the cover, a pair of feet extending from the other.

"Oh..shit.." one of the tinies stretched, their curly hair spiraling spreading from the cover like wires. “You just had to pick the morning flight..” Jerry rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked to the lump next to him, nasally rumbles lingering beneath them as he nudged a foot into its side. “Brock, stop acting like a brick and get up already.”

The exposed toes curled, cowering beneath the sheets as the tiny groaned groggily. "Why’d you have to go and kick me?” he wiped the slobber from the corner of his mouth, “ I was just having the best dream of my life."

"You say that every night, dear."

"Well it's true."

Guro rolled his eyes, taking to the window as he plucked the two from the platform. He lumbard toward a table, placing them on top as he made his way for his luggage in the chair. Today was the day the three of them went on their trip to Vegas. Since he was a kid he always dreamed of visiting there, his fantasy running wild of the possibilities he’d find. Fame, fortune, hell even the chance to see good actors. His mind thrived on the potential for him to explore, but nothing spiked his interest more, than to find someone who could take on his size.

He dabbled in a few hook ups during his time in the city, managing to fish a few guys here and there looking for a good time. But his tall physique was like kryptonite to potential seekers, each cowering before the colossal ass that spreads before him. He had no luck here, but that didn’t mean he won’t find one out there.

Finishing the rest of his packing, he placed the two love birds into his pocket before heading out of the door and to his car. And with that they were off to the airport, Guro taking the south highway that shortened the 40 minute drive through traffic. By the time they reached the main entrance, the sun rose over the hills, its crimson glow shining over the land.

Guro parked the car as he fetched the two from his pocket. "Alright we got about an hour before the flight boards.”

“Perfect, then that leaves us plenty of time to prepare.” Jerry hopped onto the glove compartment and kicked the loose panel, a bottle of anti-digest jostling to the edge. “I knew these would come in handy someday, it’s the perfect heist for the stomach.”

“About that, why again are you guys going in my stomach?”

“You’re the one that said the cost was too expensive for the three of us, so I thought of an alternative.” Jerry plucked one of the pills. “You get to sit all cozy in your chair, while me and hubby travel in your stomach.”

“It still doesn’t sound appealing when I hear it a second time around.” Guro said. “Having you two inside me sounds way too weird.”

“Relax, it’ll be fine.” Brock chimed in, “Just think of me and Jerry like skittles.”

He shuddered at the thought of swallowing his two friends, looking to his watch as time edged toward seven o’ clock. With a sigh, he grabbed a water bottle from the cup holder, untwisting the cap of the pills as he two. He washed it down his throat, before picking up Jerry and Brock, hovering them in front of his mouth.

“Here goes nothing..” He parted his lips, sprawling his tongue like a carpet as he tilted his head.

His tongue squished as the two tinies hopped into his gaping maw, sliding down the muscular appendage like penguins as they darted into his awaiting gullet. His lips scrunched as his throat worked at their complex forms, working them past the back of his tongue that rose to the ceiling. He squeezed his tongue against their feet, and his throat gave way, the muscular tube expanding as Jerry and Brock were accepted inside. The descent was like a slugs pace as peristalsis took over, guiding them to the entrance of his stomach.

Getting out of the car, he raised his shirt as his belly distended, a softened handprint poking from his torso. "It's darker in here than I expected,” Jerry said. “did you bring the flashlights with you, Brock?"

"Flashlights? I thought you grabbed them from the nightstand?"

"Why would you think I grabbed them? I was literally right next to you."

"Keep it down you two," Guro pounded at his chest. "we're almost inside."

He entered the sliding doors to the main lobby, other travelers swarming through the corridors like a sea of fish. Guro followed the narrow path to the terminals further in the distances,, ushering the shoulder of others to clear a way for his hefty luggage that nipped at his heels. He visited the check in machine, grabbing a ticket for his things as he dropped them with the attendees.

Dropping his luggage off, he spread his arms like wings, popping the cramps on his shoulder for hauling the heavy thing. He approached the line of the terminal, and his sense of his relief dispersed. Security would be up ahead, scanning baggage along with the passengers clothes for any signs of breach in policy. It wasn’t long before one of the officers approached, scanners in hand as they ushered him forward.

He sucked in his gut, and the scanning commenced as the coned device raised up and down his body. "Scanner's seem all clear, proceed." one of the officers said.

Guro nodded, moving through the terminals to the connecting hallway. He looked out of the translucent window to metal fins gliding over parts of the platform, the head of the plane turning the corner like a shark as it docked near the loading bay.

Movement stirred inside of him, his abdomen bucking as limbs twisted over the other. "Ugh, I knew I should’ve woke up earlier.” Jerry muffled, “ my cock’s leaking like a faucet for release.”

"Fear not my dear hubby, for your noble night shall ease your stress." Brock said.

Guro cheeks flushed, pounding a fist at his chest. " You two are not fucking in my stomach, it’s hard enough trying to keep you down already."

"Fine fine, party pooper.” Jerry said, “Then let’s at least get some grub, I’m starving in here!"

"Yeah!" Brock chimed.

“What? I just told-”

"Food! Food! Food!" the couple chanted, bouncing wall to wall as if they were seeds in a popcorn kettle.

"Alright, Alright already. just stop with the bouncing."

It was a good walk as Guro traversed deeper into the airport. Searching for the docking terminal, he followed the bolded signs that hung from the ceiling as they pointed further down the hall, leading him to the corner of the building where travelers waited for the aircraft.

Good, he still had some time to get those two some food. He followed a vertical path to a few shops stationed along the walls, passing by refreshment and accessories before he got to the food court section of the building. Snackbars stationed between the narrow pathways, packets of Doritos stacking their shelves as some spilled from their platform to the Gatorade bottles below.

"Perfect, chips should ease you two until we land." he said.

"Chips? No way! they'd be waterlogged by the time it enters in here." Brock said.

"It'll be soggy regardless once it gets there," he replied. "If that won't work then what do you want?"

"Burgers!"

"What? no that's too-"

"Ooo burgers, great Idea!" Jerry chimed. "What better way to kick things off than to have a burger!"

"A burger is way too greasy right now lets-"

"burgers! Burgers!" the couple chanted, bulges dancing beneath his tank top.

For fuck sake. He held his stomach extending a sheepish way to passerbys before speed walking around a corner. A burger parlor rested ahead, guarded by a crossroad as passengers passed to and from the bridges connecting it. He ordered his food and made his way to a booth facing the stream of other flight goers, fiddling the ticket number of his order between his fingers.

"Be sure to add extra cheese!"

"Oh! and ketchup, don't forget the ketchup!

Guro pounded his stomach. "Will you two pipe down, if you keep it up someone will-"

"Man all this traffic today," a smooth yet gruff voice said from behind, passengers splitting apart as a short lean man stepped through them. "Who’s bright idea was it to put this place in such a piss poor spot? I’m getting a wedgie down here."

The small man wrestled with his pants as he traversed to the booths. As he looked to the other tables occupied by guests, his gaze met Guro’s who peeked over his arm.

“Hey you, that seat next to yours taken?” the man pointed at the booth.

"Oh, uh no. It's all yours." Guro replied, gesturing a hand to the seat next to him.

The short man let out a sigh, the gears of the seat creaking as he crashed down upon it. “Ah, thank god, I can finally sit and eat.” He sat his tray upon the table.

Guro held a hand to his face as he focused on the passing passengers, the sound of paper unraveling as the lean man unwrapped his burger. Not a moment later, a waiter arrived with his food as they placed it on the tray. He picked up a stray fry, dipping it into ketchup as he nibbled over his shoulder.

The lean man tore into his burger as ketchup splattered the wrapper. "Say, I haven't seen you around these parts.” He garbled over his food, “You knew to this airport?"

Guro froze. "You could say that, I..don't really travel a lot."

I see," the lean man swallowed his chewed food, pounding at his chest. He extended a hand to Guro. "Well let me be the first to welcome you. Name’s Gary, it’s good to see new faces around here."

“Guro," He replied, shaking his hand. “I’m sure you meet a lot of folks out there.”

“Oh sure, I've seen so many passenger’s I’ve lost count. Met a few good ones over the years..” He stirred a fry into his ketchup. “And busted a few too.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Oh..you have? It must be..pretty rough.”

“Ugh tell me about it, they come out of the woodwork and think they run the entire place. Man, they give me gray hairs.” Gary said, “But nothing grinds my gears more than those with tinies.”

Guro’s eyes widened at the statement, fiddling with his straw. “Yeah?..”

“Totally. Smuggling them on board in my presence, it just makes me so..so..” He pounded his fist against his palm. “gah, they're lucky I’m at work. But you know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah yeah, I do, totally.” Guro fanned the air, sipping at his straw. “Those..rotten smugglers, why if they were I would-”

"cold! cold!" a faint mutter escaped his stomach..

His body locked, punching into his own stomach. Gary was caught aback, the lid of his drink popping undone.

"Woah there, drink went down the wrong pipe huh?"

"Y..yeah, guess I must've drank too long." He replied, holding at his stomach.

"Give me the fry!"

"get your own, I saw it first"

Guro froze again, looking to Gary who stood there attentively.

The side of his cheek twitched. "Ahe, you know I think my ears are whack from working on flights, but I could’ve sworn I heard some little voices just now."

"No! No! Not at all, I’m sure it was just uh..the conditioning."

“Nah, it sounded like voices alright. Just like it sounds like smuggling.” Gary leaned closer. “And when there’s smuggling in my presence, I-”

He jumped out of his seat. "Would you look at the time, I really must be getting to my flight.”

Guro scampered into the sea of passengers, rushing back to the narrow hallway he came from. He caught a glimpse of Gary’s stern stare, before it disappeared around the corner. —---------------------------

that was close, he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold that conversation. He lifted his shirt and gazed at his round belly, the lumps of his abs rising and falling as the two tinies danced beneath its layer.

"Can you guys at least try to keep things low? that guy was onto us." he said.

His stomach grumbled, Jerry’s voice resonating. “Wal..we…”

“What?”

“Hun, don’t try to speak with your mouthful” Brock replied. “It's just a minor hiccup, Guro. it slipped out.”

“Well don’t do it again or we’ll be caught.”

He returned to the main path of the hallway, joining the crowd that lined the entrance to the air bridge. He showed his ticket to the tenders and made his way down the hollow straight way, the hums of the plane's turbines vibrations through the metal floor. A wave of cool conditioning washed over him as he entered the opening of the plane, stray legs in the lane brushing against his own as passengers sat their luggage into the compartments above.

He found a seat in the middle of the plane, taking a seat as he glanced into the Isle. He managed to get on board, thank goodness, that hurtle of their journey was complete. He eyed the other passengers that traveled passed, looking at the metal wig blocking the window frame as its lights blinked. Movement stirred inside his stomach prodding at the muscular wall. He pulled the collar of his shirt over his face, staring at the wobbling lumps i his abdomen.

“Get the energy out while you can you two, it’s gonna be a long trip before we reach vegas.” he said in a lone tone, keeping an eye towards the lane.

“Easier said than done when your cock’s craving release. ” Jerry replied. “Blasted thing’s still leaking.”

“For the last time, you’re not fucking in my stomach.”

Jerry slouched against a fold in the fleshy chamber. “Ah come on, how else are we gonna get through this trip.”

“Because we almost got caught with you two’s bickering.” Guro replied.

“You’re still o about that guy back there, there’s no way he’d follow you in here.” Brock chimed, “Poor bastard’s probably helping the janitor’s than thinking about us.”

"Attention passengers, please listen up for the time being.” a voice called from the cockpit, the heads of passengers splitting as they turned to the front of the plane. Holding a microphone in hand, hidden away by the shoulders of the would be the short man from the burger parlor. "We've got a long flight ahead of us, so if you’d be so kind to keep in your seats we’ll be cruising through to vegas in no time.."

Guro peeked through the curl of the woman in front of him to the front aisle. “Shit..”

“What is it?” Brock asked.

“It’s that Gary guy again, of all the planes to be on it had to be this one.”

The fuzz of Gary’s hair traversed further down the aisle, a pamphlet in hand as he wagged it through the air. "As you all know it's important to ensure your mask is working to full condition," he said, "If you are having issues please let me or our staff.."

He trailed as he came to the middle of the aisle, the corner of Guro’s gaze meeting his own. His eyes were like daggers as they seething their judgments into Guro’s brain, eyebrows furrowing as if to harness their fiery sight.

"…Our staff know at a moment's notice." Gary continued, his steps drawing closer. His curly hair peered from the top of the pamphlet, his eyes locking onto him. "If there aren't any further questions..may you enjoy your flight."

His steps trailed behind, but he could still feel his sharp gaze as he moved to the back of the plane. The tension eased as the aircraft jerked, the docking platform fading from the small window as it faced the runway. The white stripes of the runway zipped through the window frame as the aircraft made its way to its lane. He hoped it would distract him from the sudden predicament, but he couldn’t help but look back to flight attendants buckling their belts, Gary side-eying him from a seat along the wall.

He leaned his head against the chair, and let out a heavy sigh. "This is going to be a long flight.”

--

Some time passed as the plane left the airport, soaring over the mountains decorating the plains below. Guro’s attention aimed at his body as the wall brushed his shoulder, hugging him into the cool interior as the plane tilted to the west. He looked down to his still stomach, prodding at the faint dimple protruding beneath his pecs.

Those two have been quiet since they took off, he’d best check on them.

He scoped the aisle for a second glance, eyeing the slouched necks of fellow passengers who tilted to the ceiling. He lifted his shirt, tapped at his distended gut. "Hey,you two good?.." he asked, his tone overwhelmed by the turbine outside. "Is everything okay in there?"

"Is what okay in there?" A voice startled him, Gary standing in the aisle with a tray.

"Geez you really need a bell, you can't just sneak up on people like that."

"What did I startle you fraidy cat? Its merely time for the passengers to have their snacks for the evening.” He plucked one of the bags from his tray. “I wanted to give you yours personally."

Guro eyed him cautiously. “Why?”

“Think of it as an apology, I’ve been watching you all this time to see if you’d croak. And yet, you sit there without a trouble in hand. So..” he set a couple of bags upon his tray, “I wanted to ensure you get the best nuts I could offer, as tribute.”

"Ah..how kind of you."

"Yes," Gary said. “I hope they're..to your liking."

He cycled to the next passenger, sharing a glance as he handed them peanuts from the trays below. That guy on his ass for so long, he forgot what it felt like to finally breathe in piece.

his stomach rippled as it sung its gurgly song, taps resonating from his abdomen. "What’s this I hear about snacks?" Jerry asked.

"About time you started to speak," he replied, "I thought I digested you too."

"You thought being in here would get the better of us?” Brock said. “It’ll take a lot more than a few burgers and fries for us to kick the bucket."

“Huh, I suppose you have a point.”

“Yeah.” Jerry chimed in, “on a related note, how about those snacks!”

Quick and to the point, that’s the Jerry experience for ya. But his request did linger in his mind, he thought the food from the restaurant would satisfy him for a little longer, but he can already feel his belly yearn for more to fill in its chamber. He looked to the plastic packets on his tray, fondling at their sealed ends.

"Why not," he picked one of them up, "a few peanuts couldn't hurt."

He tore the flimsy corner of the bag, dumping the miniature contents into his awaiting mouth as he chewed on their salty texture. Their solid form were soon reduced to mush beneath his molars, escorted by his tongue as it slithered down his throat with a simple gulp. Arriving in his stomach, Jerry and Brock became active, swirling inside his belly like pet fish.

"Huh, a little salty but these things actually aren't that bad." Guro opened another packet, tilting the torn opening to feast on the nuts.

He chewed at their crunchy forms once more, lapping at the slaty flakes in torn opening to savor their taste. But his stomach twisted as a bulge pushed in his stomach, Jerry and Brock moving around.

"What are you doing down there?" He said in a low tone, tapping at his stomach.

" These nuts are making me.. feel tingly." Brock muttered, kicking into the side of the stomach. “Hehe..my legs feel like jello

"you feel it too, I thought I was the only one." Jerry added, the bulge in his stomach expanding. "You know.. Did I ever tell you? you're.. kinda hot. Like really..really hot."

"Really? I was gonna say the same to you."

Guro shuddered as he felt his stomach swirl, the two tinies swirling around the wall like propellers as their moans reverberated the surrounding flesh. flustered, Guro leaned into his legs, tapping into his gut.

"Hey I told you not..to fuck in-” His stomach bucked as the two drove into stomach wall, footprints marking his abs before sinking back in. “Guys..stop..fucking.”

His words fell on deaf ears, the tinies pressing horizontally into the side of his belly. It was as if he swallowed a dinner plate, his stomach manipulating its curvatures as it squashed against his folds. He gripped at the armrest of his seat, over biting his lower hip.

steps echoed from the lane, Gary returning with a glass beverage. "Oh man, you look like you’re getting put through the ringer there?"

"What did you put in those nuts?" Guro groaned, holding his stomach.

"Nothing, just regular peanuts compared to us." Gary said, "though for small folk, you could say they become more..energetic. good thing it was just you who only drank it, right?" He shared a glance at Guro.

"r..right, no..tinies here."

"Mhm.” Gary plucked the drink from his tray, setting it up on Guro's. “ If there were tinies who ate them, this stuff does the trick for calming them down. Who knows,maybe it'll work on that stomach ache of yours too."

Guro opened his mouth to speak, but shuddered as legs swiped against his belly like brushes. Gary trailed from his gaze, walking down the path as he gazed upon the sloshing liquid in the plastic cup. Not good, if this keeps up he’ll jizz in his pants before they land.

His stomach turned again, his head brushing against the seat as sweat dripped on his brow. Looking to his pants ran through his body, his shaft pulsating as it bulge climbed to the surface. When the tip of his shaft outline the pouch, a wet spot darkening into the fabric, he caved.

He raised the plastic cup against his lips. swallowing ice and all as its cubes raced down his pipe. It sizzled along his tongue like sprite, its suds raced down his throat as it collected into his stomach. He shook the cup until the last drop met his tongue, slamming it upon his tray. His stomach expanded, the cool liquid spinning inside the chamber as the two couples calmed themselves.

He took a breath, basking in the hums of the plane. But he froze as the lingering figure returned, a golden name tag appearing in his peripheral.

"So it seems your stomach ache has calmed down, and not a single ice cube in the cup." Gary eyed the empty plastic, his arms crossing across his chest. "I'm sure it doesn’t take an Einstein to know what comes next?"

Guro's face grew dull, rolling his eyes to the window. "Fuck.."

Tires squeaked as the plane arrived at the vegas airport, cruising its way to the corner of the building where an empty air bridge awaited it. Guro stared at the front door, hands gripping his shoulders as Gary held him close.

"We have an hour before our next flight," Gary told another flight attendant. "I'm taking this one personally to security."

The flight attendant nodded, informing the captains of the situation. The door's hissed open, and a knee nudged into his legs.

"Is that really necessary-"

a knee struck him again. "Silence troublemaker, you'll be given what you deserve soon enough."

They moved through the long narrow hallway to the entrance, one of the employees opening the door as he stepped outside. Eyes glued onto the display as they moved through passengers, snickers fluttering the crowd as Guro sulked beneath the collar of his shirt. His sense of security was quickly diminished as a nudge yanked the slim fabric from his chin, Gary shoving him into the next corridor. After countless steps, they turned into an empty path, Gary opening a solid door to darkness on the other side.

"After you." Gary escorted him in, tossing him to the middle of the room.

"Look, I get that this wasn't the best idea, but do you know how expensive tickets are nowadays?"

"Oh I know how much they are, but don’t think you’ll get any mercy from it." Gary slammed the door, locking it behind him.

He approached in a slow stride, his form widening in width as he reached Guro’s chest. Even half his size, his demeanor drove his heart to a fast race, his legs backpedaling as the flight attendant gained ground.

Cold steel soon kissed at his back, Gary breath flowing over his chest. "Remember what I said about those with tinies?"

"I..I don't recall."

"I said when I find in my mist, that there will be dire punishment. And when I get my hands on them I-"

Guro shielded his face. "Jail them!"

"Fuck them!"

Guro's shuddering ceased, blinking in confusion. "W..what?"

"You heard me."

"So you did all of this, just to fuck me."

Gary scoffed softly. "Well I gotta get my buzz one way or another. I could’ve called you out at the restaurant, but why spoil it there?"

"b..but-"

a foot lunged toward him, stomping the wall above Guro’s shoulder. "Ain't no buts about it, You're still a troublemaker for making me have to stretch to get the answer out of you.” Gary caressed his chin. “But since you’re kinda cute, I’ll cut ya deal."

He unbuckled his belt before taking to his fly, ringing his finger into the pouch of his boxer. With a flick of his finger, drawed the beast sleeping in his pants. Its slender length swelled against his thigh, its veins pulsing as it pointed its fleshy tip like a spear.

"You can accept your punishment and show me a good time, or I can let security deal with you and far worse."

Guro's cheeks flushed at Gary's options, its energy driving its way through his body as it was fed to his own cock. This predicament was peculiar to what he expected, and yet, it seemed to exhilarate him the more he ran it though his mind. The cock wagged closer, drawing at the air like a magic pencil as its baked musk whipped beneath his nose. His own shaft throbbed in his pants, punching into his pouch as if it were begging to be let out.

He watered his lips. “Just show you a good time?”

“Mhm,” Gary replied, bucking his shaft closer, “show me just enough, and I might let you off the hook.”

He reflected on his words, before looking to his waist. The lengthy appendage flicked as it brushed the tip of his nose, a drop of pre soaking his skin as salt whiffed through his nostrils. He clasped both hands along the leaking head, nodding softly as he felt its strength pulse between his palms..

"Splendid," Gary said, a hint of excitement decorating his tone. "Unbuckle those pants of yours."

Guro adjusted himself from the wall before taking to his belt buckle, unfastening its hold on his waist as the fabric slithered to reveal his toned glutes beneath. Their warm sheets were relieved, a pinch resonating on both cheeks as fingers spreading them apart.

"Well, well, Quite the star you have back here." Gary said.

"T..thanks, I try to keep it cared for in my spare time."

"I can tell, let's see just how taken care of it truly is for my monster."

his hole rippled as fingers prodded its center, flattening the folds between the rings before the phallus made contact. He strained as his anus widened, sliding Gary's girth inside him as it climbed the curvature of his anal walls. The flight attendant thrusted his hips, and their waist's clapped together as if there were a puzzle.

the attendant started to rock, sawing through Guro's ass like a saw as the shaft drove in and out of him. Pump after pump, his toes curled as Gary filled more of him inside, its bulge intermittently appearing beneath his lower abdomen. From mere moments he found himself bending towards the toilet, his own body taking to his shaft to channel the energy to his leaking tip.

As time passes, the two grinded in sync, their symphony of grunts and moans reverberating through the walls of the bathroom.

"Not bad, you're holding punishment well."

"That's nothing..I can take more."

"Oh?” Gary mused, clasping the tender mounds between his palms. “Then I hope you can keep your socks on for the finale."

He thrusted his shaft deeper into Guro, his waist clapping with his as a lump appeared intermittently in his torso. Push after push, a dimple began to form as the phallus imprinted along his abdomen. With a firm ease into Guro, the softened features of the tip appeared, two human shaped silhouettes decorating next to it as they grumbled beneath the tender muscle

"Hmph, so these are the tinies giving you trouble." Gary said.

"they're.. friends of mine." Guro replied.

"I see,” Gary chuckled, stirring Guro's inside like a batter barrel as Jerry and Brock wobbled around. “Seems they're having fun of their own. no wonder you were so skittish on the plane."

His skin bulged like a vacuumed compartment, wincing as the two silhouettes bobbed along his belly like mardi gra shadow puppets. The two of them basked in the silence between them, feeling the attendant's shaft thrust his torso from side to side. but soon a chime rang through the air, the flight attendant checking his phone.

"Looks like it's boarding time, I better get back to the plane" he said, grabbing one of Guro's cheeks as he unplugged his shaft from the depth of his hole, folding a bundle of tissue paper over the tip that leaked the floor. "I assume you can stand on your own?"

Guro rose from the toilet seat, his legs floundering as if they were made of jelly. "Well..more or less."

"Good, I wouldn't want there to be another mess than there already is." Gary said with a pat.

The two of them walked out from the bathroom, Guro waddling toward the door as Gary held it open. Getting into the main hall, security turned from the far corner, their walkie talkies going off as they approached the two.

"There you are, we had a report of some misconduct from the place." One of them said, "Is this who we were sent to retrieve?"

Guro opened his mouth to speak, but Gary's palm raised in front of him. "No, it was a false alarm. I thought we had a troublesome situation, but it's been resolved."

the guards grumbled at the flight attendant's response, nodding softly before they returned to the hallway. disappearing, Guro took a breath.

"I'm..not in trouble."

Gary patted at the cylinder like bulge in his pants. "Consider it a courtesy for a good time."

"I..well-"

"you're welcome." Gary interrupted, handing him a piece of paper from his pocket. "Take this, a voucher next time you fly with us. and be sure to follow the rules next time, can’t guarantee you’ll be let off easy if it's not me."

Guro blinked at the slim piece of paper, taking it from Gary as he slid it into his pocket. With that, he nodded in understanding, Gary acknowledging as he traversed into the hallway. Soon the sound of passing passengers filled the space, leaving Guro with his own thoughts.

fancy that, he thought, to think a simple fuck with a flight attendant would get him off the hook. Whether it was luck or just pure satisfaction, he was glad that hurdle was over and done with. But something else lingered in his mind, a piece he was forgetting, but what?

"Fuck, my baggage!"

Navigating through the halls to the baggage claim downstairs, he had some time to kill as he waited for his transportation to arrive. Sitting along a bench near the entrance, he reflected on the encounter in the bathroom stall, reminiscing over the long slender shaft that once dwelled inside. He fondled the contents of his bloated belly, his fingers squishing upon his abdomen as if it were a water bed. it was..refreshing in a way, at least now he was able to walk straight.

His taxi arrived as he moved to a hotel further up the road, booking a room as he made his way up the flights of stairs to the second floor. He kicked open the door and dropped his bag, heading over to the bathroom as he ventured to the tub. He turned on the shower faucet, warm water washed over him as he squatted over the drain as seed drooled from his hole like an uncapped bottle. Clench after clench its flow moved like a stream melting into a watery substance before it disappeared into the drain.

But the stream began to spurt as solid objects pushed at his hole, forcing him to heave as his ring flexed and contracted. He adjusted his stance and squeezed at his stomach, a wave of seed spewing from his hole and between his legs as it rinsed beneath the water.

A tangle of arms and legs seeped from a wad,its gunk melting away as the two tinies laid along the drain.

“That's what I call a trip.." Jerry mumbled.

"You can say that again." Brock said, looking to Guro who stood over them. “You certainly made a mess. What were you doing out here?”

He shook his head softly. “Just having some fun.”

[mueritos]

Hi Matteo,

I just wanted to say that I really appreciated the most recent comic you posted. It feels like it came at the perfect time for me lol. I’m in a bit of a transitional stage right now(in many ways) and I’ve basically gotten used to feeling like I’m disconnected and free floating. I know it won’t always be like that but it’s been rough. I have a friend who’s also a trans guy, though he transitioned several years before me and is now stealth, and though I cherish his friendship and appreciate his support, I sometimes find it hard to relate to his experience as a white guy with supportive parents. To some extent, my queerness has always felt very separate to my identity as a child of Mexican immigrants. I recently got the chance to visit family in Mexico and despite loving the experience, I was just so uncomfortable the entire time having to present as a girl. I’ve been trying to build up the courage to tell my parents that I’m starting T and it’s made me feel sort of alone because it’s a choice that I’ll have to defend myself. Idk, this comic just reminded me that there are other people who have gotten through these situations just fine and it was cool to see. I’m sorry for the long ramblings, I had a point initially but I kind of lost track of it. I mainly just wanted to thank you for what you do, it’s really nice to know that there are people out there like you.

hey friend! its not easy being us, but im proud of you for hanging in there. I personally haven't been to Mexico since I was 9 because I fear having to present as a girl, though I feel that no one down there would ever remember who I am enough to know I was born as one. I feel you on having white trans friends. I have one who I am very close to, but its hard to relate. His parents are so accepting in ways that mine aren't, and my parents do love and accept me! But that sort of acceptance in a Mexican family isn't mainstream. I had to accept that I was disappointing and hurting my parents GREATLY by choosing myself, all while knowing they still loved me.

It's weird. Even when your parents/family do come around, it's not 100%, but it's not like they dislike you. If anything, I have such a great relationship with my mom rn. We talk for hours about things I never would have thought we could ever talk about. My dad calls me as Matt often, but he still calls me by my old nickname when he's giving me kisses on the forehead.

Choosing yourself is not something we're supposed to be doing as children of immigrants. Every choice we make has to be for the betterment of the family. You might be the only one in your corner for a while, but the fight is worth it. Build community outside of your family where your presence isn't questioned. You're going to need it. Plan for the worst, and plan for the best.

Trans latines are out there. We are here! Many of us are thriving despite the horrors haha. Hang in there friend :]

[aggravateddurian]

Cyberpunk 2077: Chorus

Judy Alvarez (2077) and Vega 'V' Hawse (2077)

If you could pull the lever to carry on forever Would your life even matter anymore? Sure it’s a calming notion, perpetual in motion But it’s not what you signed up for

The Rare Occasions - Notion

"Time's runnin' out, Judes... don't have a lot of time left. Relic Malfunctions gettin' worse... sometimes I'm out for half a day," V explained, "...fuck... I feel bad for draggin' you into this, Judy."

"No," Judy sternly replied, grabbing her chin, "We both knew what we're getting ourselves into. You'll find that cure. If there's anyone who can make magic happen, it's Vega Hawse..."

She leaned closer, "Also, you wouldn't want to make my abuela angry by dyin' on me, would you?"

"Fuck no!" V responded, "...but what if curing me meant we had to be apart for a while? What about us, Jude? Wouldn't be fair to you."

Judy's thumb reached up to her lips, hushing her, "I'll be waiting for you, calabacita."

Warning: Sad story below

Some Time Later...

"We almost never come up here, V... we can see the whole city from here."

"Yeah... there's some memories associated with this place. I can't remember the original feelings I... we... she... fuck, I dunno, had at the time... but I remember the events, and I can't help it... I hate this place."

"What happened here?"

"Two years ago, not long before I... we joined the Aldecaldos and went into Arasaka Tower... just helped Goro Takemura kidnap Hanako Arasaka..."

So Mi raised a concerned eyebrow, "...long story. We stayed the night with Judy, and then we came up here, on the way back from Laguna Bend."

Vega turned towards the city, "Looked out upon the city and asked her how she'd feel if my getting cured meant I had to be apart from her for a little bit. She told me that she'd be waiting for us."

"...Vega..."

"It's in the past now. A different life... can't help but feel somewhat betrayed, So Mi. V's last two years before Arasaka Tower were rough. Disowned by our father, kicked out of the clan, Jackie... I guess I picked up this feeling that V has an aura of death around her... everyone close to V either dies... or they leave, move on, find something better."

So Mi crossed her arms, "Plenty of people you worked with... helped... who're better for it, V. River? He's thriving, same with Randy, Joss and the kids. The Aldecaldos took a hit, but with Panam and Mitch at the helm, they've never been better. Dorian and Kaylee are doing... fine."

Val raised a brow. Dorian may have been physically fine, but years of reflection on his shitty corpo enforcer career had led him to go full Johnny Silverhand, wanting to set the whole city on fire. Kaylee, his closest friend, had spent years in the NET doing God knows what, and came out the other end... different.

"You always know what to say, So Mi."

"Not worried I'm quickhacking your hormone levels, or emotionally manipulating you?"

Vega furrowed her brow, "Have you been talkin' to Johnny?"

"Yeah, crazy conspiracy theory... you wouldn't even guess he's never been able to hold down a woman."

[magicicephoenix]

Hoax - The Ink Demonth 2024 (Day 3)

In which a particularly heavy rumor takes the studio by storm. And they take… interesting measures in the face of it.

ao3 link

-----------

went for more of an "audio only" type style here, mostly for my own sanity ^^' and yet this still ended up rather long for a day-long prompt… oh well. had a blast writing it, at least!

btw this takes place in my The Silent Demon AU, which is essentially just: everyone is happy, the studio is thriving, and Bendy is alive! he's also mute and deaf.

enjoy!

----------

"Another special? So soon? Honestly, Joey, it's like you want everyone to quit."

The sound of papers being shuffled. "C'mon Henry, it'll be great for business! I mean, it's not my fault that Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years all go in a row!"

"But it is your fault that Bendy, Boris, and Alice are celebrating all four." An amused huff. "Couldn't we just do a short for New Years or something?"

"But the vision! The prestige!"

"Now you're just saying words."

An offended scoff. "I'm just saying, this'll be good for the studio! A step up against the competitors!"

"And the best way to do that is to work everyone to the bone?"

"You know I'd never let it get to that point."

An acknowledging hum. "Alright, fine, whatever, you're the boss. But you better not get any ideas about Valentine's Day."

"Ah! Now that you mention it—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. I'm leaving."

"Wait, but- Henry! You haven't even heard what I was going to say!"

"Nope. I'm not hearing another one of your far-too-complicated ideas today. I'm making like Wally and getting outta here. For real this time!" The sound of decisive shoes on wood, a door opening.

A pause—skittering of hidden footsteps rushing away, staying unnoticed—and then… the laughter of two good friends joking around.

The shuffling and bustling of employees on break.

"Did you hear? We're starting another special."

The crinkle of a lunch bag opening. "Geez, again? What's this one about?"

"New Years."

"And we need a whole special about that?!"

"Jesus."

"Mr. Stein reacted the same, I heard."

The thump of a cup being put down. "Really?"

"Yeah. Told Joey something about quitting if stuff like this kept happening."

Stirring of a spoon in a bowl. A laugh. "Mr. Stein would never quit."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Are you kidding? He'd never leave the studio. Not to mention Bendy."

A chuckle. "Ah, you're right."

"Then why'd he say he was leaving?"

A spit take. "What?!"

"Who told you that?"

"Overheard. He said he was leaving, for real."

"No way."

"Yes way. That's exactly what he said!"

"That can't be true."

"He'd never actually leave!"

"You've seen how exhausted he's been recently! What if this was too much for him?"

"…he has been here longer than anyone else."

"And Mrs. Stein would be happy that he'd stopped working late."

"Where do you think he'd go, though?"

"Doesn't matter where he'd be going, what matters is that he might be leaving!"

"The department wouldn't be the same."

"Yeah, it'd be so empty!"

"We'd have to get another department head!"

"Augh, it'd be so weird reporting to anyone other than Mr. Stein…"

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"But… it's only a maybe, right?

"I mean, I guess. But what if it's true?"

"I can't imagine what would happen if he left for good…"

"Then let's just hope he won't."

"Yeah, fair enough."

A door slamming open. "Henry might be leaving."

The crash of a chair falling down. "He's what?"

"Wait, what-"

"Heard it through the grapevine."

"Susie, you can't just believe every hint of gossip that comes your way…"

"No, no, she's right."

Another chair hitting the floor. "She is?!"

"What, you're tellin' me that you haven't felt the stress from the recent specials? Imagine how brutal it must be in Animation!"

"Ugh, even thinking about all that drawing makes my hand cramp up…"

"He's been working late more often, too. What if he's reached a breaking point?"

"Henry doesn't have a breaking point. He's crazy when it comes to work."

"Everyone has a breaking point."

"Well, of course you do, you break just about every day, you perfectionist."

A scoff. "I am not a perfectionist."

"Oh, yes, when you scream at the band every day, that's not due to any undiscovered need for only the best take possible."

"I do not scream, I instruct, and it's only because all the fools on the instruments don't understand the basic principles of—"

"All I'm hearin' is that you have unreasonable standards."

"Well, Joey hired me for a reason—"

"Ladies, ladies!" The rush of banter dies down. "Calm yourselves. We have a problem on our hands, and we're going to address it."

"So what do we do about it then, Susie? Beg him not to leave?"

"Well, hold on. If he's already decided, there's not much that can change his mind. He's stubborn as a mule."

"Linda could!"

"If he's leaving then Linda knows and approves."

"…right."

"But he hasn't decided! It's only that he might leave."

"So we have a chance to stop him."

"Exactly."

"So what's the plan?"

"Maybe we guilt trip him."

"Norman!"

"I'm just sayin'."

"Well, actually, he might have a point."

"What? Guys—"

"How would we, though? If he's really thinking of this seriously, he must've already considered all the factors."

"True… so what else can we do?"

"What if we can't do anything?"

A somber silence.

"Well, then… we plan long term. Just in case he leaves. A safety net."

"I guess that's… reasonable. But I still think we should—"

"Who would be the next head of Animation, do you think?"

"Eugh, tough break. No one's as good as Henry."

"But someone'll have to step up!"

"What about Bill? He's been around for a while."

"Really? I don't think he's management material."

"Maybe Phil, then."

"Oh, that's not a bad thought. He can handle stuff in a pinch, for sure."

"Yeah, he helped time the frames for the latest song, you remember? When Henry was busy fixing the misplaced lighting debacle."

"Don't you dare speak a word about that, I swear to God, animators in here every second of the week—"

"Wait, hold on, everyone shut up." Everyone does. "We're thinking too complicated. Quick answer, what's going to happen if Henry decides to leave?"

"Um, Animation will lose a capable artist?"

"Joey Drew will summon more demons."

"Sammy'll blow a fuse."

"I will not— "

The sound of someone stomping their foot. "Ugh, honestly! You men are so dense. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

"Maybe for some of us."

"Hey!"

"I didn't say it was you. What, you outin' yourself?"

"I- You annoying—"

"Bendy, you guys, Bendy! What'll happen to him?"

"What'll… happen?"

"Yes! If he can't be by Henry's side all the time, where will he go? What will he do?"

"Who will he choose instead, you mean."

"Well- I mean yes, obviously."

"Won't he just go with Joey?"

"Maybe if you think simple. Don't you realize? This is our chance!"

"What are you talking about? He already spends plenty enough time here."

"Playing piano with you, maybe, but the rest of us are woefully starved of Bendy time!"

"Bendy time?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Um, I honestly don't think this what-if warrants this level of—"

"So you're sayin' there's a chance of him pickin' someone else?"

"I think it's in the realm of possibility."

"Then we'll have to figure out who."

"And how will we do that?"

"I'm sure I could think up a few contests… see who he picks…"

"We'd have to go get him first."

"Well then, let's do that."

"Guys, seriously! Can't we just… I don't know, talk to Henry before jumping through these crazy hoops?"

A pause.

"Stick to lyrics, Jack."

"Yeah, Jack."

"Alright, let's do this, team!"

Amid the clambering of shoes leaving the room, there's a long suffering sigh. "I'll be in my office, I guess…"

"Did you hear? Henry might be leaving."

"Really? Always thought he'd stick around 'til the business sank."

"So did I!"

"So, see, the Music Department's been running around addressing things. Possible concerns."

"You'd think Joey would be the one doing that."

"Nah, haven't seen him all day, actually. And I have a script waiting for review…"

"Anyway, they've been gathering everyone in the band room."

"Everyone? What, they're doing a concert?"

"Bendy's in there. Norman says he's 'up for grabs.'"

"…what?"

"Bendy's super attached to Henry, right? So they're trying to figure out where he'll stay if Henry decides to leave."

"Isn't Joey the obvious choice? I mean, he is the guy who created him."

"I guess… but maybe he'll choose someone else."

"I don't think 'up for grabs' is the best way to put that…"

"Don't blame me, Norman's the one who said it!"

A pause.

"I mean, we're going, right?"

"Oh, of course."

The sound of a door easing open. "Hey, Mr. Drew?"

"Ah, Buddy, yes, hello! Come in, come in! What's on your mind?"

"Um… you're wanted in the band room."

"Oh, alright." The scratching of a chair being pushed back. Footsteps on wood. A door closing. "What am I needed for? Did Sammy finish that theme I asked him for?"

"Um… no, sir. It's for a contest."

"Pardon?"

"A contest. Everyone's there in the band room waiting for you. All the animators and writers, too."

"I… why are they there?"

"That's where Bendy is. And people are hoping he'll pick someone new to follow around."

"And they're hoping this because…?"

"Because Mr. Stein might be leaving."

One pair of footsteps stop. "…what?"

"Mr. Stein might be leaving."

"I… Henry isn't leaving."

"He isn't?"

"Of course not. Whatever in the world gave everyone that idea?"

"Um… it's what everyone's been saying, sir."

"I told you, Buddy, you don't need to call me sir."

"R-right."

"Anyway… do you know where they heard this?"

"Someone said they overheard him talking about quitting. And he's been working late a lot, so maybe he's tired."

"That… doesn't sound like Henry. I-I mean, I know things have been stressful, but not that much. Right?"

A noncommittal hum. "That's just what I've heard."

"Huh…"

An anxious silence.

"W-well, they still want you in the band room for comparison."

"I… comparison?"

"To see who Bendy likes more."

"Ah… I-I see… so they think this is really happening?"

"I guess so."

An unnerved clearing of the throat. "Right… well then… I suppose… it only makes sense…"

"Are you alright, Mr. Drew?"

"J-just peachy, Buddy. C'mon, let's get going. There are many, many people waiting for us!"

"Hey, Henry?"

Silence.

"Henry."

"Oh, hey Abby. What is it?"

"You’re not leaving, are you?"

"Leave- do you need help with something? I can stay. I was just finishing up with—"

"No, I mean… leaving. The studio. Y'know… quitting."

"What? Of course not. What gave you that idea?"

"Everyone’s saying it. Joey, too."

"…Joey thinks so?"

The rustle of a nod.

A long sigh. The sound of a pencil being put down. "Oh, man… alright, where are they?"

"Band room. They’re doing a contest to see who Bendy will take to if you leave."

The sound of a chair scraping against wood. Another sigh, this one more fond. "Of course they are."

Everything goes silent when Henry Stein enters the room. Everyone freezes on the spot, stuck with their hands in the cookie jar. Well, the cookie jar that is an elaborate mashup of toys, instruments, and other objects in an attempt to get a certain cartoon demon's interest piqued.

Bendy is the first one to move, of course. He jumps down from the table he’s been placed onto and weaves through the crowd of people to get to Henry, to whom he raises his hands expectantly.

In a clean movement, Henry bends down and scoops Bendy securely into his arms. He surveys the room silently, taking in a range of emotions from surprised, to confused, to worried, to amused. Then he sighs, exasperated, like the weight of the entire studio is on his shoulders. "I’m not leaving," he announces, much too tired.

The room erupts in noise. Disbelief and accusations hit the air, with everything in between ringing out into the big space. Above it all heaves the loud, mirthful laugh of someone who knew this all along and played into the insanity, and the similarly loud but very different cry of someone who knew and dreaded this very result from the start. And, quieter, between the shouts and yells, there's the blessedly relieved exhale of a man too paranoid for his own good.

In the chaos, Henry looks down at Bendy. Bendy blinks back, completely out of the loop, and Henry chuckles.

"Don’t worry, bud," he says, even though he knows Bendy won’t hear it. "I’ll never leave you. No way in hell."

----------

thanks for reading! :)

after this Henry has a very long talk with the entirety of the studio about jumping to conclusions. and a separate, more stern talk with Joey about letting his doubts get the best of him. and then another talk with the entire studio about just talking to him if they hear rumors like this, jesus christ.

[faraway-sunshine]

What about the split in half one? That one looks most like you, I think

Meet Whoever's Inside My Head #2: Sunny Omori (Myself)

Once again, bulk of info under the cut.

You can address me as: Just Sunny and He/Him's fine. Calling me Omori might trigger something, I'm not sure.

(Saturday 16th September, 2000, 11:39 PM)

(Yeah, I stayed up all evening figuring this stuff out)

Until recently, I would have made this a separate page.

Omori was my most prominent other self. After Mari died, I escaped from reality via dreaming and sleep, and when I was awake often these dream elements were carried with me to the waking world. But every time I managed to escape for a while, I'd remember and it'd all come crashing down again.

Remembering a memory when I sat at Mari's piano, a uniquely crafted model the maker called an "Omori", I adopted that name when I felt myself kind of form another version of me. One twelve years old from a few days before Mari died, who played with his friends and existed in a vacuum, who only ever existed in this faraway alternate world with no parents or rules or school or music lessons or anything. One who was, for the most part, oblivious.

But Omori grew curious, as I, Sunny, faced the reality of moving. I think maybe Omori realized so many times before, but either I managed to get rid of his memories or he did so to himself. For all I know each wipe could have been a brand-new Omori. I also felt two extra pieces break off Omori after a time, one protecting us, the other a punisher of sorts.

As I developed and started facing fears and reconnecting with friends, this bled into Omori's world. At the end of it all, when for the first time I decided not to let myself fall back into unknowing and when I saved Basil, I had no need for this sort of escapism. I thought maybe Omori would vanish or die, that the vicious scramble in my head was for his own self.

But that didn't happen. Instead, Omori's presence changed. I could tell which "memories", which emotions and thoughts and likes and dislikes that I felt unified on or weren't coming from me or any other distinct voice. And I never really felt Omori either go away or take charge. I don't know if this is the right terminology, but I think maybe Omori and I merged? Became one person? I'm not sure. But it's a nice thought, really, that after years of separation and infighting that we're both starting to properly live.

Having said that, there's a lot more me than there's Omori, as Omori largely thrived on distance and neutrality and drifting by and also kept himself very guarded. That doesn't make Omori any less important or deserving of nice things, though.

Although we both have overlap, Omori is more left-brained, focused on logic and facts and straightforward ways of getting through things, while Sunny is more right-brained. We can play off each other pretty nicely. And although I (Sunny) never feel Omori take total control anymore, sometimes he lets me zone out while taking control of a tedious chore or boring conversation so I don't have to think about it.

The parts of me that feel more like Omori aren't interested in deep conversations. Or blog passages. But there's a bit of Omori in everything I do now.

Design

I tend to think of Omori and I as like a yin-yang symbol, so the black and white is paramount. Splitting down the middle was more of an introductory thing; visually I see us as kind of the same person wearing one outfit rather than half of two. However, I do imagine myself being a bit lopsided, as Omori did not really age in any way and when Omori totally fronted he completely believed we looked as we did when we were 12. And for the white in our eyes, I tend to draw only a little bit in one eye and a larger bit in the other, as when Omori was almost always confined to my lucid dreams I tended to think of him as having lightless eyes and I think it's a nice visual metaphor for getting used to the sunlight.

[wetcatspellcaster]

Thank you for putting into words, Rosalie’s “I was just trying to match your energy”. Because I never had such gentle words for my own experience, and now, it’ll colour my days.

On a lighter note, it was delightful you said that the latest chapter was nice and soft and us readers could take a break from angst. The more you lovingly batter up these two puppies to make a delicious cake, I am here, gorging myself on it. Like, I sometimes lie flat on my bed and contemplate what was happening in Astarion’s mind in “Party Favours” after (1) Rosalie failed to turn up at his house after coming by every day in a month (2) when Shadowheart turned up and he realised - he RAN to - and then (3) when he realised Rosalie dressed up for !! Threnn!! But not him!!

I love your writing, so so much. Wishing you the loveliest day, and for every day to be even lovelier after.

P.s. Should it be pleasing to you, I’d love to know your director’s thoughts of what was going on in Astarion’s mind in Party Favors.

Hello friend!! Thank you for your kind words :)

In response to your question -

Astarion's mindset in Party Favours, a dramatic performance.

Chapter One: oh, Foxglove wants to meet up for lunch! I haven't seen her in 6 weeks, 5 days, and 10.5 hours! time to pretend I don't care at all about her or her silly little wizardry business - ohwaitshesaidshewantstodatemeohgodohno oh wait it's a 'fake dating' situation... i see. time to pretend not to care again. i need to start shopping for suits. she likes it when i wear blue.

Chapter Two: I am going to achieve a good grade in boyfriend, something it is reasonable to want and possible to achieve. (don't have a panic attack, babygirl, you're so sexy and talented. have i mentioned i learned love languages for you?)

Chapter Three: this was my competition! this! she is both absolutely dull, and also awful. she fucking sucks! I hate her! ...I wonder if I could still poison her. I have now admitted that I bought poison with me, so Rosalie would know it was me who did it. I will wait six months, then poison her. Time to go back to getting a good grade in boyfriend.

Chapter Four: I have not been able to charm the pants of Rose, so I will charm the pants of every single one of her coworkers. I'm that bitch. oh no, wizards are hot, even when not casting counterspell. oops, kissed my girlfriend. we're not technically dating yet, but as a magistrate, i think that's mostly an administrative technicality.

Chapter Five: I've got this, I've got this, I've got this, I literally used to seduce people for a living, I've got this-

*followed by just that transition sequence from Twilight: New Moon where the months pass by Bella's window, only Astarion's wearing more eyeliner.*

Chapter Six: Shadowheart has told me Foxglove is in trouble. it's 5 weeks, 3 days, and 19hrs since I last saw her in person, 27hrs since I twitched the curtain aside and caught a glance out of my window at her while she was waiting on the doorstep, but *I'm* mostly doing this out of the kindness of my own heart. oh fuck, I hope I look hot. oh no, wizards are hot, even when not casting counterspell. why does she look sad? oh no. I forgot she was fucking stupid. time to confess my love i guess.

Chapter Seven: error 404 - Astarion not found. *horny static* *horny afterglow static* *dazed 'she said she loved me' static*

Chapter Eight: did I mention I live with my girlfriend now? Yes, we're thriving. Crops? Flourishing. Skin? Clear. Closet? Extradimensional. You fucks all wish you were me. We should get married. No, of course I'm not serious (I'm serious). ok, we'll just fuck in a closet instead. that's fine for now i guess.

[xiaq]

Why do feelings have to be so confusing???

I’ve never been super into labels, but if I had to choose I probably would have gone with aroace. I kind of figured I wouldn’t ever find someone I wanted to be in a relationship with and that was fine.

But now I’m 30 and somehow in a relationship for the very first time with this person that I love so much. And it’s wonderful and amazing in so many ways, but I also feel so crazy with it??

I feel like a teenager with their first crush but also too old for that and it’s like I don’t know how to trust myself in this because I’ve never felt anything close to this before.

Feeling romantic and sexual attraction for the first time there’s a part of me that’s like how has everyone been living like this the whole time??? It still doesn’t feel like it should be real somehow, even though I’m now experiencing it firsthand.

Anyway I don’t know exactly where I’m going with this, but if you either advice or even just stories to make me feel a little less ridiculous, I’d love to hear them!

I think it's really REALLY important to remember that socially reinforced ideas of normalcy when it comes to exploring sexuality are not, actually, normal. A. Because people are people and what works for one person doesn't work for others. While there's obviously going to be a bell curve on the graph of "when do people typically sort out who they want to kiss (or not kiss) and start doing that" there is going to be a steady, not insignificant, number of folks that are on the upward and downward swing of that bell curve before you even get to the far outliers, and that's to be expected. B. Traditionally accepted timelines for building a sense of sexual identity don't apply anymore. The average age for (first) marriage is creeping back each year. In the US in 1900 it was 26 for men and 22 for women. Now it's 29 and 27 respectively. Women, especially, don't have nearly the pressure placed upon them that they used to to quickly find someone who will take care of them seeing as we can now open bank accounts and own property and work for (mostly) equal pay and all that jazz. So there's that to consider.

But also. Humans, human bodies, are never stagnant. You might have heard the fun factoid that all our cells are replaced every 7 years. That's not entirely accurate, but it's true that the body does regenerate skin and bone and liver and stomach, and so on, cells at a kind of mind-boggling rate. There are things that we're born with that don't change like some of the neurons in our cerebral cortex, I think, but as a species we are generally made to adapt to new experiences and environments so much so that our bodies are in a constant state of change themselves. You're just...doing what you're built to do. Something new has happened and you're adapting to it.

And yes, it can be scary and make you feel very vulnerable when you don't have historical relationship or sex-related context like other people your age might have, but that's when you get to lean on friends and/or talk to your therapist to make sure you're approaching things in a healthy way, there aren't red flags you're missing, etc. Because humans are also pack animals and we thrive in communities in which we can share each others burdens and wisdom.

As someone who also had built what I thought was a pretty clear assessment of my romantic and sexual identity over 29 years, only to have it challenged and rebuilt at 30, I fully empathize with the way you feel. But I leaned into the feelings of confusion (and frankly, giddiness, at times). Who says teenagers are the only ones that get to experience first crushes? Who says 30 is too old for self-discovery? You get to decide how you interact with the world. Who cares what other people are doing if what you're doing makes you happy and hurts no one.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

okay, so i’ve just finished your Just Friends fic, and now i’ve just been analyzing every aspect of this story because it’s that fucking good. and so personally, after all the psychoanalysis and interpretative symbolize i feel were very subtly connected with each other, i think that könig and engel… AND BARE WITH ME… are perfect for each other, i would even go as far as to say that they were probably meant for each other, and i mean, like, probably soulmates.

and before i get into this, i just want to say, as a disclaimer, i’m not romanticizing anything of this and i don’t condone any of this. this my own analysis on i what interpreted in your fic and why i feel this way.

anyway, their relationship is a great example of a twisted, dark, semi-toxic relationship, and i say semi-toxic because although these two are absolutely insane separately, könig’s sociopathic and personality tendencies and engels morbid curiosity and possible anti social tendencies of her own, together they compliment each other to the T. it’s no wonder why engel keeps going back to him, it’s not a matter of her not knowing any better or being naive, in fact it’s the complete opposite, she knows what she’s getting into, she loves it and she thrives off of it. engel revels in the forbidden realm of her fantasies that she tends to escape from, and now with könig, who so openly offers it to her, she is clearly driven by desire and lust of her own and will engage with it as much as possible so instinctively. at this point, she’s aware of everything könig can do for her, to her, and more, and i feel, after our conclusion of what we know, engel will definitely use that to her advantage, not necessarily to use him but to explore for herself and what he can continue for her. sure, it‘a possibly, definitely self-indulgent, and probably selfish of her, but she’s happy, and when she’s happy könig’s happy, and as long as she doesn’t cross a line that i’m pretty she’s knows könig have repeatedly emphasized, they will continue there escapades happily. and i would continue on to explain my own little theories about könig’s psyche and his future with her but this is getting too long.

i truly think that what they feel for each other is genuine, it may not be love, it may be obsession, but whatever it is, it’s there and they both aware of it. no matter how toxic it may be to the normal eye, no one can’t deny that when they’re together they’ve truly become one. i’m sure after everything they been through, they will be inseparable, they will become each other in their own right. i think they depend on each other more than ever, and in a way, that is poetically beautiful in the most fucked up of ways. i love it, i love you, i love what you created. thank you for reading my essay~

i would love to offer up some headcanons of my own in the future, but im not sure. o.o

Okay. Okay. Okay.

I'm fine! Everything's fine ❤️

First of all. I had to take the longest moment to cry sit and stare at a wall after reading your message. I will try and not make a fool of myself when I answer this, but... (I know I'm about to sound as crazy as König & Engel)

You don't even know how much this means to me 💕 because this is IT. This is exactly what this story is about. Your analysis is better, more profound and more nuanced than anything I could ever have written myself. *cries*

Reader explores her suppressed fantasies, the dark side of her soul through and with König, yes.

Just like we do here on tumblr when we're indulging ourselves in these silly little imagines...? I'm sorry if this makes people uncomfortable but that's just how I see it and as I've said before it's only healthy to have an outlet (and not forget humor while we're at it 🤍)

And so does König explore his light, angelic side with Engel! She represents everything he has cast outside of himself and wants to reclaim: innocence, kindness, softness, vulnerability, life, normality, even safety.

Sure, he also projects his mother wound (or whatever you wish to call it) onto her and seeks in her the nurturer he never had, the comfort and appreciation he never had. Engel on the other hand seeks a powerful protector and wants to let go of the stifling need to be sane and kind and conventional. She has agency: in the end, everything in this story happens as a result of her actions and decisions.

It's not healthy, it's not safe or sane, but it's genuine and it's a true attempt to live more honestly. They're both crazy, but I still believe that under the obsession and madness blooms a strange but strong love. They belong together!

And this is also the reason why she is special and König absolutely adores her – I haven't been succesful, perhaps, in trying to convince people of it because toxic König sorta has a life of its own nowadays but your analysis proved it all so beautifully that I can only say THANK YOU and also would you marry me please you're awesome I love you 🩷💖💋

And I'd LOVE to hear more of your headcanons! Feel free to ramble in my inbox anytime or if you feel comfortable enough I wish to remind (everyone) that my dms are always open too 💕

Thank you anon for your essay, it was the most delightful read and I think I'm going to go and cry a bit more now...!