#not only is it sad that they ended this series so abruptly

[jeahreading]

wait charles and edwin DON'T end up together??

that's so sad, I will be going to Ao3 for fanfics

[bootsukki]

AITA for saying my 5-year anniversary is just another day, making my girlfriend mad?

aita series masterlist next part

wanings: angst, communication issues, swearing

The restaurant buzzed with the sound of clinking glasses and lighthearted conversation. Tsukishima sat at the end of the table, picking at his food, his usual expression set in a cool, indifferent mask. Across from him, his girlfriend, (Y/N), was laughing at something Yamaguchi had said. The group of friends had gathered for dinner, as they often did, the easy camaraderie between them keeping the atmosphere light. Yachi and (Y/N) were sat side by side, murmuring about something as they picked out pieces of their food.

“Hey, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi started, cutting into the relaxed mood. “You guys have been together for four years now, right? Any big plans for your five-year anniversary coming up?”

The question made (Y/N)’s heart flutter. They hadn’t talked much about their anniversary yet, but after being together for so long, she had imagined something special was in the works.  (Y/N) had been feeling kind of sad the past days, not seeing Tsukishima enough due to reasons he hadn’t explained to her but she still had the hope of it just being a busy time at the museum. Tsukishima had been training a new coworker, Mia, and although she didn’t like her that much, she kind of understood that there were a lot of protocols at the museum that had to be followed. 

She turned to look at Tsukishima expectantly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Tsukishima, though, didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he took a sip of water, leaned back in his chair, and shrugged. “It’s just another day,” he said flatly.

The smile vanished from (Y/N)’s face instantly. The words hit her harder than she had expected, like a punch to the gut. Her chest tightened, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind, none of them good. After everything they had been through, everything they had shared, was their five-year anniversary really just another day to him?

She glanced around the table, everyone else had fallen silent, awkwardness creeping in. Yamaguchi shifted uncomfortably, clearly not expecting that kind of response. The rest of their friends exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to laugh it off or change the subject.

Tsukishima wasn’t big on surprises and they always made plans for dinner but he hadn’t said a thing yet. (Y/N) had the silly dream of him proposing and she even told Yachi about it. Not only Yachi, but him as well which he answered with a smile.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, forcing a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just another day, huh?” she muttered under her breath, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Tsukishima’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked at her, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “What?” he asked, his voice sharper than usual.

(Y/N) clenched her fists under the table, anger starting to simmer in her chest. “You really don’t care, do you?” she said quietly, but there was an edge to her words that caught everyone’s attention.

“Care about what?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused but annoyed at the same time.

“Our anniversary! Us!” (Y/N) stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Lately, it’s like you don’t even care anymore! You’ve been staying out late, barely texting me, and now this? ‘Just another day’? What the fuck, Kei?”

All of their friends stopped their conversations as they saw (Y/N) standing up.

Tsukishima’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening. “You’re being dramatic. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You’ve barely been home! You don’t talk to me, you don’t ask how I’m doing, and now you say our anniversary is just another day? What am I supposed to think?”

(Y/N) could feel everyone’s eyes on them, but she didn’t care. This had been building up for weeks, and now it was like a dam had broken. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her emotions swirling between anger and hurt.

Tsukishima sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

“You don’t see why I’m making a big deal?” (Y/N) couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tears of frustration were welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, not wanting to cry in front of everyone, completely embarrassed about the situation. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve been so distant, and I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore.”

Tsukishima’s eyes flickered, but his face remained stoic. “You’re overthinking it.”

(Y/N) felt like she had been slapped. His words felt dismissive, like he didn’t care at all about her feelings, like her fears and concerns meant nothing. She grabbed her bag from the back of her chair, her hands trembling with anger and hurt as some tears finally made their way out, coating her cheeks.

“I’m done,” she said, her voice shaking. “Sorry guys.”

“(Y/N)? Where are you going?” Yachi asked her, worried as she looked at their friends, clearly not knowing what to do.

“I don’t know.”

With that, she turned and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving their friends sitting in stunned silence.

Yachi grabbed her bag and coat, sending Tsukishima a glare, saying something under her breath and following (Y/N).

After (Y/N) stormed out of the restaurant, Tsukishima sat there, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, the tension rolling off him in waves. He felt the eyes of his friends on him, but he didn’t dare look up. The heaviness in his chest, the kind he could usually ignore, was now impossible to shake. (Y/N) was not wrong about it, he had been spending nights at the museum, working overtime and taking paperwork home. He woke up during the night to go into his office at home and keep working, completely stressed. 

If she only knew…

Yamaguchi shifted uncomfortably beside him, glancing toward the door where (Y/N) had disappeared. “Tsukki…” he began softly, but Tsukishima cut him off with a sigh.

“I know,” Tsukishima muttered, rubbing his temple. He could already feel the irritation bubbling beneath his skin. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about (Y/N), but how was he supposed to handle all of this at once? Work had been relentless, and every spare moment he had, he was trying to plan their future. He’d never been great at expressing himself—something (Y/N) knew better than anyone—but it seemed like this time, he had really messed up.

The table had fallen into an awkward silence, none of the others quite knowing how to break the tension. Tsukishima didn’t stick around for long after that. He tossed some cash on the table, muttered a stiff goodbye, and headed home.

As he arrived home, he texted her, messages left on delivered. He hated going to sleep without fixing their problems.

Running a hand through his hair, he called her. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her. How was he suppose to tell her everything without spoiling everything he has worked and planned for? Would she even pick up?

"What?"

There was a brief silence on the other end, just the faint sound of Tsukishima breathing before he finally spoke.

"Where are you?" His voice was steady, calm—too calm.

"I’m at Yachi’s." Her words came out clipped, tension already thick between them. "I needed space."

There was another silence, and (Y/N) could practically feel the weight of it pressing down on her. She had expected him to ask more questions, maybe show some concern. But instead, he was quiet.

“You didn’t say anything,” Tsukishima finally said, his tone flat. “You just left.”

(Y/N)’s jaw clenched. She could already feel the frustration rising, boiling just beneath the surface. "You didn’t give me much reason to stay. You didn’t even try to stop me.” she shot back, her voice colder than she wanted it to be.

His sigh was audible over the phone, a soft exhale of frustration. "You’re overreacting."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Overreacting? Was that really what he thought? After everything they had been through the past year with moving and the stress of his new job and deadlines of her book, all the nights he came home late or didn’t come home at all, brushing off their anniversary like it meant nothing—she was overreacting?

"I’m overreacting?" she repeated, her voice rising. "Kei, you’ve been disappearing for days, barely talking to me, acting like I don’t even exist half the time. Do you know how that feels? Do you even care?"

"Of course I care about you," Tsukishima snapped, his calm demeanor slipping for the first time. "But you’re making a big deal out of nothing."

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet room. "Nothing? So me feeling like I’m losing you is nothing? Our anniversary is nothing? Us is nothing to you, is that what you’re saying?"

Tsukishima didn’t respond immediately, and the silence that followed only made her anger flare hotter.

"I didn’t mean it like that," he muttered, but his voice lacked any real conviction. It sounded more like he was trying to calm her down, to brush aside her feelings.

"Then what did you mean, Kei? Because right now, it feels like you don’t care. It feels like you’ve already checked out of this relationship." (Y/N) stood, pacing across Yachi’s small living room, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew Yachi was probably listening to their conversation but she couldn’t care less about it. She sniffed. “You act like I’m supposed to just accept this. Like it’s normal for you to disappear and not talk to me. Like I’m supposed to just be fine with it. We've been together for almost 5 years, we should know by now how to communicate with each other."

"You’re not giving me a chance to explain," Tsukishima said, his voice dropping, more annoyed now.

"Then explain!" she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. "Explain to me why you’re never home! Explain why you can’t even be bothered to talk to me when you are! Explain why our anniversary is just ‘another day’ to you, when it’s supposed to mean something! Explain why it feels like I don’t matter to you anymore!"

There was a long, suffocating silence.

"You don’t get it," Tsukishima said finally, his voice low and cold. "You don’t understand what’s going on, why I…”

"Because you won’t tell me!" (Y/N) felt the words rip from her throat, raw and desperate. "You won’t let me in, Kei! You won’t let me help, and then you act like I’m the one being unreasonable? I’ve tried. I've tried to gvet you to tell me what is going on, why you come home that late... I’ve tried to be patient, but I can’t do this alone."

"I never asked you to do anything alone," Tsukishima muttered, but his tone was distant, like he was speaking just to end the conversation.

"That’s the problem!" (Y/N) yelled, her frustration bubbling over. "You don’t ask. You don’t say anything. You just keep everything to yourself and expect me to be fine with it. But I’m not fine, Kei. I’m not fine with you shutting me out. We are a couple, we should be there for each other, in good and bad situations but you... You don't care about it."

Tsukishima sighed again, and this time it was heavier, like he was already tired of the conversation. "I don’t have time for this right now."

(Y/N) froze. The words cut deep, the final nail in the coffin. 

"You don’t have time for this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You don’t have time for us?"

"That’s not what I meant," he said quickly, but the damage was done.

"No," (Y/N) said, her voice steadier now, but full of cold, quiet anger. "I think that’s exactly what you meant. You don’t have time for this. For me. For us. I guess you have all the time in the world for Mia."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Don’t twist my words," Tsukishima said, irritation clear in his tone now.

"I’m not twisting anything. You’re the one who’s been distant, who’s been shutting me out. You’re the one who doesn’t have time for me, and I’m done pretending like that’s okay. You're the one always doing things at work, spending an absurd amount of time at the museum, spending nights at the office, door closed as if..." She bit her lip, her throat tightening with unshed tears, not daring to say what she was thinking about. About him possibly cheating with the perfect Mia, who had the same interests at him. Mia, who threw herself at him just to get his attention. Mia, who was perfect and could talk about everything Tsukishima loved... She wanted to throw up just by thinking about it. "I can’t keep waiting around for you to decide whether or not you want me in your life, Kei."

Another long silence.

(Y/N) felt her heart drop. She had wanted him to fight for them, to say something—anything—that would reassure her that this was just a rough patch, that they could work through it. But instead, all he gave her was more distance by saying nothing to her.

"Tsukishima, are you going to say something?”

For a moment, she thought he might say something more, but the line stayed silent. The weight of their words hung in the air, unspoken truths pulling them further apart.

"That's my answer then. I’ll come get my things tomorrow," (Y/N) said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady, though her heart was breaking. 

"What? (Y/N), don’t say things like that. Don’t even think about it." Tsukishima muttered, his voice cold and distant again.

“How can I not?” She was now sobbing, Tsukishima’s heart breaking at the sound of her hurting. “You are not willing to even tell me that you want me in your life.”

And just like that, the call ended, the silence on the other end of the line as heavy as the emptiness that now filled the space between them.

*****

“It’s 2 in the morning.”

“I know.”

“You know that I have a kid sleeping upstairs, right?”

“Yes.”

Akiteru tsukishima looked at his younger brother, making way for him to enter his house. Without notice, the younger sibling had made his way towards his brother’s house, not knowing what to do. Akiteru had already noticed the tension radiating from his younger brother and made him some tea.

“You look like hell,” Akiteru remarked, setting the cups on top of the coffee table.

Tsukishima shot him a glare, but it lacked its usual sharpness. “Thanks,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Akiteru leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Tsukishima didn’t respond right away, staring at the grain of the wooden table as though it held the answer to all of his problems. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “I messed up with (Y/N).”

Akiteru raised an eyebrow. “What kind of ‘messed up’ are we talking here?”

“The kind where she walked out and told me she would get her things from the apartment,” Tsukishima admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He hated saying it out loud, but he couldn’t deny it any longer.

Akiteru’s expression softened, his usual teasing tone nowhere to be found. “What happened?”

Tsukishima explained everything—about the dinner, his cold response to the anniversary question, (Y/N) accusing him of not caring, and how he had been spending nights working late. 

When he finished, Akiteru let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you’ve been under a lot of pressure,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But… Kei, you can’t just shut her out like that.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Tsukishima snapped, frustration leaking into his tone. He regretted it immediately, but Akiteru didn’t flinch.

“I know,” Akiteru said calmly. “But what did you think was going to happen? You don’t talk to her, you’re distant, and then you dismiss your anniversary in front of all your friends? Of course she’s going to feel like you don’t care.”

“Akiteru, I…” Tsukishima sighed. “I’ve been working late to get a few days off of work, so I can take her on a trip and propose.”

Tsukishima’s shoulders sagged. He had been so wrapped up in trying to plan the perfect proposal, trying to juggle work and life, that he hadn’t considered how it all felt to her.

“I’ve never been good at this stuff,” Tsukishima admitted quietly, his voice raw in a way that it rarely was. “I thought I could just… handle it.”

Akiteru smiled softly, “Propose? Are you serious?” The younger man nodded, placing his forehead on the table.

“I fucked up.”

“Kei, relationships aren’t something you just ‘handle.’ They’re messy, they take work, and sometimes you have to talk about the hard stuff, even if it sucks. But if anyone’s worth the effort, it’s (Y/N), right?”

Tsukishima’s heart clenched at that. (Y/N) was worth it. She was worth all of it—the frustration, the awkward conversations, the vulnerability. He had never cared about anyone the way he cared about her, and the thought of losing her because he had been too proud or too stubborn to open up made him feel sick.

“You need to talk to her,” Akiteru said firmly. “Skip the proposal part. Tell her everything. Tell her about the trip. I promise you everything will be alright.”

Tsukishima nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, sleep catching up to him.

*****

AITA for saying my 5-year anniversary is just another day, making my girlfriend mad?

Hey, Reddit. I (M23) have been dating my girlfriend (F23) for almost 5 years. Our anniversary is coming up soon, and it’s kind of a big deal since it’s our 5-year mark. I have been working overtime to get money and time for an surprise anniversary trip for us and I haven't been home that much and when I came home, I kept working during the night. My best friend (M23) and some others friends, including my girlfriend, were out for dinner, when he asked me about my anniversary plans. Without thinking too much, I shrugged and said, “It’s just another day.”

My girlfriend started to freak out to the point of leaving the restaurant and the apartment.

AITA?

User 1:

YTA!!!!!!! OF FUCKING COURSE she would freak out about something like that! Anniversaries are important and more so when they are about milestones such as this one. You need to fix this ASAP.

User 2:

Dude, I can't defend you on this one, YTA. That was a shit show. You could have told her that you weren't in the mood to celebrate or something but instead you said it in the worst way possible and in front of other people. That would probably broke her heart.

User 3:

YTA. you could have told her you had a surprise planned or something.

User 4:

Bro...

author's notes: this will have a 2nd part, out in a few days! :)

[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[aihoshiino]

chapter 166 thoughts

As of chapter 166, Oshi no Ko has finished a roughly four-and-a-half year run started back in 2020. While there's some speculation about an epilogue or some extra content in volume 16 when it drops, this is where the main story ends. And you know what that means!!!

OSHI NO KO HAS OFFICIALLY ENDED WITHOUT ADDRESSING OR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FACT THAT RUBY KISSED HER BROTHER IN CHAPTER 143

please understand that this is FUCKING BOGUS

I'll probably do a longer post on this subject specifically, but my main critique of 143 when the chapter dropped was that while I liked the individual beats in it and I was really glad to see Akasaka finally addressing this tension bubbling underneath Aqua and Ruby's relationship, the immediate swerve away from showing us the aftermath of that kiss felt to me like an admission that the story was going to needlessly draw this out even more. Now that the story has ended and we can see that moment had literally no impact on the plot or even the character dynamics, I'd like to revise that statement - it feels like an admission of compromise. It feels like crumbs thrown to AquRuby fans to tempt them to keep reading and to stir up the waters of the ship wars, so people would keep reading and stay invested in the manga right to the very end. But most of all, it feels deeply disrespectful to both Aqua and Ruby as characters. Rather than exploring their feelings and giving both of them interiority and complexity in relation to incest or even just fucking acknowledging that the kiss had happened and letting their dynamic evolve, the series just memory holes the entire event and asks that you do too. Rather than letting Ruby have any development whatsoever as pertains to that relationship or, god forbid, let a female character move on romantically from the male lead, the series ends with her feelings so up in the air that I literally could not tell you what she thinks of Aqua by the time he dies.

ANYWAY… FINAL CHAPTER. BREATHES OUT VERY HARD.

I really can't believe it's taken us until the final chapter to actually deal with Ruby's grief over Aqua lol. We got a snippet of it last chapter but it was so brief that it really just felt like a tease. I also just think it's kind of bizarre that we're spending this little time on Ruby having feelings about Aqua's death to the extent that I have no idea how or when she found out about it.

It's also kind of hard to feel particularly strongly about Ruby's grief when the chapter doesn't really bother to explore it all that much. It's just a montage of Ruby quite literally Screaming, Crying and Throwing Up while Akane dispassionately narrates it all. The art also doesn't really help in terms of connecting with the emotions at play - I usually really like Mengo's expression work and the way she depicts extreme emotions but this all just felt like of… I don't know how else to put it. Goofy??? Is that an insane thing to say about Ruby grieving her brother???

Idk, something about both the panelling and just the extreme on-the-noseness of Ruby, again, literally Screaming, Crying Throwing Up while she's wearing a Burning cosplay Just In Case You, The Audience, Didn't Get It only for her to abruptly be done crying with no exploration or insight as to what's going on in her head that allows her to move forward.

Honestly, this is kind of the issue with everyone in the cast. The resolution is just sort of "Aqua died and we were sad about it but then we stopped being sad". I know what the story is trying to go for here - it's trying to express that even when you're in pain, life goes on and so you have to find a way to go on with it. But the result is that we spend all this time oogling at their pain without spending equivalent or even meaningful time on their recovery process.

It feels both excessive and undercooked at the same time and I'm left with the same icky, voyeuristic feeling I got from Aqua's funeral last chapter. This should be the point in the story at which we empathize with Ruby the most, but she remains a frustratingly distant figure right to the final pages. Part of this is an unfortunate consequence of Akane's narration directing these final chapters meaning that we're hearing about Ruby from an outsider's perspective and thus don't really see what's going on in her head… but if I can be frank, this has been an issue of Aka's with Ruby in particular basically nonstop since chapter 123.

As others & myself have noted, despite the absolutely catastrophic downward spiral Ruby is in at that point, Aqua revealing himself as Gorou basically flips it all off like a switch. There's some mild lipservice paid to the idea that Ruby is just using her dependency on Gorou to prop herself up and it's pointed out that the issues that contributed to her breakdown haven't actually been resolved - but none of these issues are ever even acknowledged again, let alone resolved. So, functionally, that reveal does fix all Ruby's problems in the space of a single chapter and the result is, again, that we spend multiple chapters gourging on depictions of Ruby's absolute rock bottom only for her to ping back to normal like a lightswitch. As such, the depictions of her pain feel less like explorations of Ruby's interiority and more like voyeuristic oogling at Ruby's misery and trauma and the effect is that the resolution to it all is both unsatisfying and a little gross. The result is that it feels like Akasaka is just indulgently mining the imagery of cute girls suffering because it causes simple thoughts neuron activation but doesn't respect these girls enough as characters to build them back up.

It doesn't help that this is basically the in-universe excuse for Ruby's career further skyrocketing. Instead of Ruby becoming a star on her own merits as the story keeps insisting she was supposed to, she's artificially buoyed by the public's morbid fascination with her tragedy. If I was feeling charitable towards the story right now, I would say this is an avenue of intentional critique but… well, I don't feel super charitable about the story right now lol

I WILL say that the one part of this chapter I did just uncomplicatedly like was the beat of Mem trying to suspend activities (presumably in the wake of her grief for Aqua) only for Kana to basically immediately explode into her room and help her get back on her feet. It's a beat that would've been much more effective if we'd, you know, seen it, but I otherwise enjoyed it and I thought it was sweet.

But. pbbbbtttt. I guess I can't talk around it any longer… let's get into the Dome concert.

To start things off on the immediately worst note possible, Akane describes Ruby performing at the Dome as being 'everyone's dream', including Aqua's. I'm reminded once again of the strange turn the story took in insisting that um, actually, performing at the Dome was totes Ai's dream all along (even though she literally didn't give a shit even a week before she was due to perform there herself) so Ruby performing there is fulfilling that dream for her!!! and I can't help but wonder if this abrupt shift in focus is an attempt to make readers forget what Ai's actual dream was - to see her beloved children grow up happy and healthy. Hell, it wasn't even really Aqua's dream, until the story suddenly had to try and convince us that his entire purpose for existence was to kill himself so Ruby could be an idol for slightly longer than she would've otherwise. The only people whose dreams she's textually fulfilling are Ichigo and Miyako and Ruby herself, but…

Honestly, is this really Ruby's dream anymore?

Who is Hoshino Ruby? What does she want? Why does she want it? These should be the very least of what we can concretely say about not only a protagonist but a character who has become a central figure of the entire story as Ruby has, but with the way Oshi no Ko has warped and distorted her, I find myself increasingly unsure of what the story wants her to be or how I should answer those questions.What does Ruby feel about Aqua? Was she still in love with him? Had she moved on, romantically? Was she still waiting for a response to her confession? Did she finally realize it was probably kind of shitty to respond to her brother going "lowkey wanna kms" by sticking her tongue down his throat? I Guess We'll Never Know.

This extends to whatever the fuck Ruby's relationship with idols and being an idol is. Almost the entirety of Ruby's time in the story has been spent reiterating over and over that Ruby cannot just be an idol who imitates Ai and that to truly shine, she needs to step out of her mom's shadow and shine in her own way. Ruby even literally tells Kana in no uncertain terms in 137 - "I'll be a star in my own way. I won't be like Mama."

While this has always been the text of the story, as I've pointed out before, the actual art with which Ruby's idolhood depicts her basically just as Ai 2.0. It relies so heavily on mining the imagery of Ai's charisma and personality as an idol and using them as the measure of Ruby's success as an idol that Ruby essentially has no visual or conceptual identity of her own as an idol. She's just Ai, But Arbitrarily Better, For Reasons The Narrative Fails To Actually Establish But Hopes That You Just Accept Anyway. This was always kind of annoying, but now that friction seems to have been resolved by… just making her Ai 2.0, But Arbitrarily Better (etc, etc) in the text as well. The fact that we're given no further insight as to Ruby's feelings and continue to just have Akane Explain Ruby's Character Arc to the camera also doesn't help.

All this combines to make the Dome concert and the final few pages feel exceptionally cold in a way I really don't think was intended by Akasaka. Yes, that splash page was nice and flashy but… I just felt nothing. I have no idea if or why Ruby cares about this. And even though the Dome concert has been hyped up through the entire story as the peak of Ruby's achievements as an idol, I feel no sense of accomplishment in her finally being there - not just because her journey to it was basically sneezed at us across two panels, but because it just feels hollow as a victory lap for Ruby. Again, she feels so distant and abstracted as a character that I can't bring myself to feel very strongly about her good or bad.

I think the perfect encapsulation of this are the final four pages of the story. Ruby's words here are very clearly intended to be a callback to Ai's words to Gorou in chapter one but as @all-of-her-light pointed out in our initial discussions of the chapter, Ruby very much does not have an equivalent to Ai's conclusion that she nevertheless wants and values the opportunity to find personal happiness and fulfillment outside of being an idol. Are we supposed to believe that simply being an idol is all that Ruby needs to achieve a similar degree of happiness and fulfillment? Is there no more to her than that?

I've seen a lot of people interpret this ending as exceptionally bleak and, as usual, gleefully predicting Ruby's immanent suicide because her beloved oniichansensei isn't around but this is indulging in, if you'll allow me to be frank, some pretty transparently ship-motivated flanderization. Despite what certain sections of the fandom would like to believe, Aqua and Ruby's lives, past and current, have never revolved around each other to the exclusion of every other relationship in their life. Ruby has a massive support network of people who love and care for her and actively want her to get back on her feet. I can one hundred percent believe that she does not need Aqua in her life to be happy and content.

The issue is that we don't see enough of Ruby to understand that ourselves. Again, she has become such a distant figure with so little insight into what she's thinking and why that this ending is basically a Rorschach test in which you can interpret basically whatever the hell you want or assume because we have so little canon basis to support or debunk our assumptions.

and yes. don't think i didn't see them. it IS both grimly hilarious and weirdly tonally appropriate for this ending that ruby has a bunch of oshi goods of ai and aqua including their fucking autographs set up to say goodbye to every day.

AND…… WE'RE DONE!!! THAT'S OSHI NO KO, BABY!!!! well, technically, there's going to be a 20 page extra chapter in volume 16 but I don't see it being big or substantive enough to meaningfully change my feelings about the ending so… I guess we're leaving it here. Damn. Feels crazy to be done with it.

I'll probably do a bigger post down the line about my thoughts on the ending as a whole but in terms of just How This Chapter Made Me feel, I guess the word is just… meh! It's definitely not an ending I like and I think the execution is sloppy and rushed but I also just don't really have the energy to feel angry about it. Maybe that's sad in its own way but tbh… I still really love Oshi no Ko! I still find it engaging and I find the characters I enjoy rewarding to talk about. I like the artistry of the anime adaptation. I don't blame anybody else for being so turned off by this ending that they're done with the series but for me, I like what I like about OnK too much that this ending could retroactively ruin it for me. Whatever else happens with the OnK franchise, whatever directions the anime and live-action take, this will always be the series that gave me Ai and the Hoshino family and. look at me. look at what she's done to my brain. could I really ask for anything more than that?

That being said, I'm definitely not done with discussing the series! I have fics to write (including a VERY exciting large scale project lined up with some friends), my Ai analysis post to finish and I also want to do a re-read of the series and finish my anime rewatch. I'll be here to discuss Oshi no Ko as long as I have things to say about it and as long as you guys will have me! Despite how the series ended, I've had a genuinely wonderful experience in the fandom and I really don't want to let go of the little community we've built together just because the series is done. I'm Ai's fan for all eternity!!!

[agroteraa]

Watermelon Sugar

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: Just a slice of hot summer in Saltburn.

Actaeon series spin-off, taking place between Artemis and The Wrath of the Stag.

Warnings: smut, fingering, handjob, finger sucking.

Word Count: 3,2K

Almost two weeks had passed after the karaoke night events. It was a sultry August noon, and you were reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by the pool. You were lying on your stomach on a lounger, dangling your feet in the air and eating triangularly sliced pieces of watermelon. Time seemed to freeze and melt in this heat, and at that moment it felt like that summer would never end. That would be perfect.

Oliver sauntered over to the pool, topless, his T-shirt on his shoulders. There you were.

You were so engrossed in reading that you didn't hear him approach. Besides, he came unnoticed. As always.

Your legs swung back and forth in the air alternately exposing your buttocks, slightly peeking out of your colorful swimsuit.

Oliver swallowed involuntarily. He leaned against the nearest wall, clutching the ends of his blue T-shirt tightly in his hands. He loved every inch of your body, but he was already beginning to realize that your ass was especially driving him crazy. He was a booty man and never missed a chance to put his hand on top, squeeze or kiss it. Or better to do everything at once. And sometimes even give it a little slap. He was thinking more and more often that maybe he should try to go a little bit further with that and see your reaction. At that thought, he shifted against the warm rough bricks of the wall, tugging the ends of his cloth tighter.

God, if only he could have his way with you just right there, by the pool. Sit down next to you, give you a little massage, and then... take you as he wished it and as you wished it too. On a lounger, by the pool, in the water, or better yet, all in turn. And so that all the inhabitants of Saltburn, its guests and servants could hear how much pleasure Oliver was bringing you. But alas, this was not his home. At least for now, he had not yet fully decided on this issue for himself.

His body began aching numbly, and, unable to just stand and think all these thoughts anymore, Oliver finally decided to declare his presence.

"Hey, Y/N, do you mind if I lie down next to you?"

"Oliver... Didn't hear you coming!" you abruptly turned over on the sunbed, with a piece of watermelon in one hand and a book in the other. Watermelon juice began to flow slightly down your hand, you put a piece of watermelon on a plate, quickly licking the remaining juice from your hand and wiping against your leg. Oliver carefully followed all these movements with the silent gaze. You lifted your sunglasses, greeting him with warmth in your eyes. Oliver couldn't help but smile back.

"I think I left my book here yesterday," Quick went to the far little table to get his belonging, and then laid down on the next lounger from you.

"Oh, you’ve started a new one?"

"Yeah," he confirmed absent-mindedly, opening it and searching for the place where he had left off the previous time. It seemed that Oliver was not just reading books, but devouring them for lunch.

"Huh, I'm still reading Harry Potter..." your voice became a little sad and thoughtful. Of course, you also read a lot of things during your studies, but still not all of them from the list, and during the summer break you preferred to distract yourself with something lighter, almost childish even. While Oliver read one big serious book after another, also he had recently read Harry Potter in less than a week to be aware of what you were all constantly talking about, discussing the plot, "How you’re doing that?"

"Well, you take the book, open it... and then you start to look at the lines of letters that add up to meaningful words and sentences," Oliver explained in a serious tone, barely hiding his smile.

You snickered back, "Should’ve known that sooner!"

He chuckled, and you both went deep into reading your stuff. After a couple of minutes, your smile faded again.

"What is it, Y/N?" it seemed that nothing could be hidden from Oliver. You decided to tell him as it was, choosing the words and overcoming some embarrassment, "I just... I don't know. You read so much, and in general, you’ve achieved everything yourself at Oxford, including entering it. Well, of course, me too... Kinda... But still, it seems that you do more and work harder than I do. Even the way you read in your free time. I've been reading Harry Potter for the second month now. Of course, I'm just enjoying it, stretching the pleasure, it's also important, you know... But anyway, I'm not like you, I wish I could be you in certain way..."

Oliver listened to your mumbling until his eyebrows began to rise and warm smile appeared on his face.

"Y/N. You're not like me, and that's why I like you," Oliver said tenderly.

"And you don't even know how much," he added mentally. You could think that he would judge by your close communication over the past couple of weeks, or at least since the beginning of the summer, but he has already studied you very well since your meeting at Oxford. You were kind, you were kind to him, especially when you comforted him the day he told Felix and you about his family and the whole "father situation". Yes, not at all as interested as you were now, but it was only a matter of time, Oliver had been hoping for this from the very beginning. Yes, you were much kinder than him. Basically, this reason alone possibly could have been enough, but he did not deny himself the pleasure of mentally going over the rest of your qualities, which were different from his own.

You were open and generous, you were similar to Felix here, but unlike him, you were more modest and even a bit shy. And, of course, you were smart, although sometimes very naive. But for Oliver, it wasn't a flaw, he adored your naivety and innocence.

That trick with Felix's towels and your little lie about the malfunction of the second bathroom, he totally forgave and recorded it as a childish prank. He decided that it even amused and touched him, the way you childishly decided to take the initiative and allegedly outwit Quick.

He felt like a tiger that a little kitten had tried to hunt. The tiger that laid calmly next to the kitten and smiled lazily, waving his tail, which the little hunter was trying to catch. Oliver smiled lazily at the thought himself and decided that someday he even wouldn't mind if you tried to repeat such an innocent prank. And he would think about what he would do to you after that.

You were never capable of even a small part of what he was willing to do and had done in life to achieve his goals, to the extent that you would never have thought of such a thing. That was also why he had chosen you. You didn't have to be power hungry like him. On the contrary, it would be more than enough for him if you were hungry only for your rather harmless aspirations and, of course, for Oliver himself.

You were quite a complete and content person on your own, and this was very attractive to the many-faced Oliver, who was still struggling to find a place for himself in this life. But he had found his place beside you and planned to stay there for a long time, ideally, forever.

And of course, he adored the power he had over you, the way you looked at him trustingly and fascinated whenever he told you something. The way you looked away shyly when he gazed at you too intensely at breakfasts or dinners. The way you looked at him with your doe eyes, lying under him in bed, as if bewitched. The way he made you feel. Moan. Dig your fingers and nails deeper into his skin. Throw your head back with pleasure. Say his name. And generally, the fact that his name was coming out from your lips. Wheresoever. All the time.

And if only you knew what kind of power you have over him yourself. It seemed that even Oliver himself sometimes did not fully comprehend this, but he definitely felt it on a subconscious, instinctive level. He felt boundless joy, excitement and pride that the object of his adoration finally adored him. If there was a happiness, which Oliver sometimes looked for confirmation of in the philosophical books that he read, then it definitely laid in this for him.

He wanted a lot from you, it was true, but in return he was ready to throw the whole world at your feet and even more.

You were smiling sheepishly, still processing his words. The sunglasses on your face had slipped down slightly, revealing your equally embarrassed, but gentle and expressive gaze to him. He reached out to you, leaning on your lounger with one hand, and gently kissed you on the lips. The book in your hands trembled a little.

"It seems it’s getting too hot in here. I'm going to take a dip," Quick winked at you, got up from his sunbed and walked to the edge of the pool. Spreading his shoulder blades on his broad, muscular back, he stood on tiptoe a little and made a rather graceful leap into the water. To be honest, for a while you forgot about the adventures of young wizards, all your thoughts were now occupied by Oliver and how he swam in the water, making wide strokes with his fit arms. You even thought about joining in, but he came out of the water pretty quickly and flopped down on his lounger with his stomach down, exhaling contentedly.

You looked at him through your glasses. Drops of water trickled down his body that was heating up, repeating the contour of his every lean muscle, his dark slightly curly hair turned into wet, completely black strands. Then he turned over, exposing his face, glistening from the water, to the hot sun. He had just cooled off in the pool, but he looked damn hot. He was like an animated marble statue basking in the August sun on a lounger next to you. You inhaled the warm sticky air sharply but quietly, deciding to focus on reading. Oliver chuckled faintly, without opening his eyes. Surely, he couldn't know how you stared at him through your black sunglasses. Or could he? You weren't sure anymore.

Finally, really deep into reading, you took another piece of watermelon and began to eat it with appetite. The watermelon was juicy, so it started running down your chin and then down the hand that was holding it. You put down the book and reached for a napkin, when suddenly you heard a slightly hoarse "Let me." Looking in surprise to the side, you found that Oliver was shamelessly examining you, lying on his side, and, apparently, for some time. His unblinking gaze and slightly parted lips turned something in your stomach. His chest rose and fell noticeably from his rather heavy breathing.

He gently took your hand by the wrist and then slowly ran his tongue over it, climbing up the palm and licking the watermelon juice from it. A familiar knot started to form in your stomach. Oliver took turns taking your fingers into his mouth. Thumb. His lips were very tender. He pulled your completely clean finger out of his mouth with a smacking sound. Index finger. His lips were soft but at the same time firm. He started looking you straight in the eye.

Middle finger. You felt his soft, hot tongue against your skin. Ring finger. God, he started to lick and suck your fingers lightly at the same time. Pinkie. You were already burning down there, as you shifted your gaze from to the place where your fingers met Oliver's caressing mouth, to his piercing blue eyes, which looked at you from under their black eyelashes, almost without blinking.

He had never done this before, but now you didn't understand how you had lived without that feeling all this time. You wanted to eat a watermelon sloppily every day so that he would do this. Seeing how much you liked it, how you started fidgeting your legs on the sunbed, he once again ran his lips over your middle and index fingers, sucking them both at the same time. You let out a soft moan. Oliver smiled contentedly, closing his eyes and enjoying the process. You opened your lips in a silent exhale, looking at the guy, unable to tear yourself away from this sight. There was already a fire raging in the pit of your stomach and below.

Taking your fingers out of his mouth, he briefly kissed your palm, and then threw one of his hands over your body, leaning on your lounger. It made an surprised squeak at the presence of a guest. His heated by the sun metal chain hung, almost touching your lips. You even had the thought of taking it in your mouth. You gulped.

"Do you know, Y/N, how sweet you are? And right now, literally," Oliver put his face close to your chin and licked off the remnants of watermelon juice. Moving his tongue higher, he licked the contour of your lips. You could barely lie still, but at the same time you seemed frozen by everything that was happening now. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth, letting out a soft groan. The sweetness of the watermelon and your tongues mixed in your mouth, making your head spin. His wet and sticky lips caressed your lips, making some breaths and moans. He almost completely rolled over with his body on your lounger. The hotness of the sun and Oliver's hotness almost drove you to sunstroke. You could feel the firmness of his body and the way his swim trunks were getting tighter by the second. It was almost unbearable.

You broke off the kiss while recovering your breath. Oliver was looking at you, unsure of what to do next. More precisely, he knew exactly what he wanted, but he couldn't afford it right now, so his brain was quickly calculating all possible options.

"Shall we go for a dip together?" you nodded affirmatively at his suggestion. Getting up from the sunbed, he took you by both hands and led you to the edge of the pool.

"Together" means "to the very end," he smirked, and without letting go of your hands, he took a step back, plunging into the pool. You squeaked as you flew after him. In the water, Oliver's strong arms caught you and spun you around a little right under the water. You let out a laugh, releasing a few bubbles instead of "ha-ha."

Then you surfaced, and Quick pinned you between his muscular arms at the edge of the pool. There you both reached the bottom with your feet there, and you were pressed closer to the cool wall of the pool. It was a pleasant contrast between this and Oliver's body, which was even somehow hotter in the water.

"And what I am to do with you? With you, lying in your swimsuit in the sun, enjoying yourself so much and eating watermelon so seductively all the damn day. It's impossible to look at it and just put up with it," Oliver said, kissing you again passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs began to wrap around his pelvis. You felt his boner with your crotch even in the water. He hissed faintly. You involuntarily began to rub and cling to him even more, feeling the literal fire under the water down there.

"Don't tempt me any more," he whispered against your lips, "Or else..."

One of his hands went deeper under the water, his fingers parted the fabric of your bikini to the side. Soon you felt his fingers inside you. The feeling in the water was slightly unusual, but you liked it. Oliver was slowly caressing you, and you tilted your head back a bit, unable to figure out where the wetness of the pool ended and your own begun. Oliver was moaning softly near your ear, and you could barely contain your loud moans. His fingers worked so well inside you that it felt like the entire pool was filled exclusively with your moisture.

You snuggled closer to the guy, and he started kissing your neck, which made your body cover in goosebumps. Then he slipped his other hand into your swimsuit and squeezed one breast. You let out a groan. Oliver added another finger, your legs curled around him, you wanted to moan at the top of your voice, but you were afraid that someone might come up at any moment and see what you two were doing here. The mixture of fear of being caught and wild excitement made brought you to the peak much faster than you expected.

"Is my girl done much faster today?" Oliver asked innocently, stroking your waist, "Admit it, it’s rather turning on. The probability of being caught. You feel it too, don't you? Oh, yes, you do understand me..."

Oliver slightly narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. He really liked the fact that you were different, but he was even more pleased with the moments where your morality and your desires sometimes converged at the same one ambiguous point.

He grinned contentedly when you, nodding slightly and biting your lip, a little timidly reached for his swim trunks with your hands. He exhaled sharply when you felt his bump and ran your soft hand up and down his hard cock several times. The movements of your hand in the water felt like in a slow motion. Oliver half-closed his eyes, holding onto the sides of the pool, and hissed, "Yes, my sweet Y/N, that's it, don't stop… Wait."

He recoiled a little from you, you involuntarily turned around, following his frowning gaze. Felix. He was walking to the pool in sunglasses, wearing a yellow shirt and swimming trunks, carrying a towel and some drink in a can. You laughed awkwardly and embarrassedly while Oliver was rather tense and very displeased. But he forced himself to distract himself, for your sake and for Felix too.

"Hi guys! How long have you been... Hey-y, did I interrupt something?" Catton Jr. asked rather jokingly, seeing you laughing in the pool, but he still tensed a little from the proximity of your distance.

"No, we just came in, join us!" Oliver shouted cheerfully, dispelling the guy's suspicions. At least, most of them.

While Felix was undressing and putting his things on his lounger, you looked pointedly at Oliver and sighed quietly, pursing your lips. Quick blinked slowly in response and nodded slightly, assuring you that way that your fun would definitely continue soon, and no one would dare to interrupt you next time.

But still, Oliver thought to himself, he would have to ponder again all the options for how to make sure that you wouldn't be disturbed inside and outside this house, not only for the next time, but preferably never again.

[msfantasy-anime]

Something Stupid

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Summary: Izuku and Y/n finally make it official

Final Part

A/n: this was my first series started on this blog and it was never finished </3 anyway a rushed ending for the sake of closure.

Well there was no denying it.

You were head over heels for that bloody broccoli coloured hero.

God, how did you let this happen? How does one not notice when they’re falling in love?!

All questions that swim laps around your spinning mind as you try to make sense at the sudden shift in your heart.

Izuku Midorya, Japans number one hero, Deku, was the man who stole your heart. More so, he ardently admitted his love for you, and what did you do in return? Run away like the bloody coward you were.

This was just meant to be fun.

Feeling far too fragile in that moment to having your feelings returned. The prospect at a happily ever after in arms reach, it’s too frightening to give in. Besides your rational thoughts, continue to tear away at your optimistic thoughts.

Your a villain, plain and simple. He cannot be with someone who engages in illegal activity, it’ll ruin him.

His fan base will not tolerate someone who isn’t Uravity, he’ll loose his supporters.

It’ll ruin his career.

You’ll distract him from his duties as a hero, you might ruin his growth.

Your thoughts continue to spin erratically, abruptly stopping at the feeling of Izuku’s hand.

“Did you hear me? I said I was sorry for putting you in that awkward position. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.” Izuku said his hand caressing your own.

You quickly pull your palm away, feeling your nerves complain at the loss of comfort. Izuku only looked down at your hand glumly, sadden at your retreat.

“I cannot be with you Deku, it’ll ruin you. I cannot do that to you.” A small sad smile plays at his lips.

“I’m grateful that you are concerned about me, but seriously, you really don’t need to be so worried about my marketing, there are ways around it.” You begin to shake your head.

“No, Izuku, you are just confused. You’re in lust, not love.” You explain. To which Izuku looked firmly into your eyes.

“I know the difference, and I am in love with you Y/n.” Your cheeks burn at the declaration. Your mind reels away, coming up with a ‘real’ explanation. There is no way he can ‘love’ you, he barely knows you. “There are many things to love about you, and many more things to learn about you, but, the thing I love most about you is your unyielding compassion for others.” It was as if his words blew your dark world away. “Your whole career is centred around returning stolen mementos to those who cannot retrieve their rightful property. Your empathy for my friends- just you care so much about others. Even now, your telling me you don’t want to be with me because your concerned about how it would effect my career. But at no point have you admitted that you don’t love me.”

You bite down on your quivering lip.

“I-I can’t.” You whisper painfully. But Izuku’s face remains stern.

“Tell me why you can’t and I’ll leave you alone. Do you not like me?” You shake your head.

“… n-no…” The corner of his mouth tugs.

“Do you not want to be with me?” He asks, making your heart clench.

“No! I-I do but-“

“But what?!” He asks firmly, you continue to squirm under the uncomfortable confrontation of having to openly admit your true feelings.

“I’m just not good enough for you.” You finally admit, half expecting Izuku to accept your answer and agree. But instead he continues to press on.

“Why?” Your thoughts come to a stuttering halt.

“I… don’t know.” But Izuku stares at you unsatisfied in your response, so you continue. “I’m just … scared.” You whisper, making Izuku hunch into the table and grabbing your hand tightly.

“I’m scared too.” He whispers making your heart thud. “I’m scared I won’t get a chance to love you the way you should be- that you’ll reject me and I’ll go home alone. I’m scared that even if I put myself out there and we get together. You’ll just stop liking me one day and it’ll all end.” But you begin shaking your head.

In what world would you just stop loving Izuku?

“Fuck it. You’re right. I-I do want to be with you but can we take it slow? Figure out out footing first before we tell our friends?”

“Deal.” Izuku agrees, leaning over and planting a lip lock kiss.

[wolff-cub]

Last Laugh

a Landoscar stand-up comedy AU

“Okay, so, let me get this straight. You think I’m unfunny. You think I don’t deserve a spot on that stage. You hate me.” “Yes. Exactly. Glad it’s finally gotten through that thick skull of yours.” Oscar just fixes his big, impassive brown eyes on Lando. “You hate me, and yet you’re always in that same little corner seat in the back of the pub when I’m onstage... watching a set you hate.”

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As the most successful comedian on the Fringe Rising showcase lineup, Lando believes he should have been given the show's prestigious final billing slot. Over the course of the festival, his resentment for the amateur Australian comedian who's stolen his spot grows... into something else altogether.

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Special thanks to @jadesaturn for beta-reading and @afriques for the lovely banner!!

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

“Papaya!”

Onstage, the spotlights shine almost directly into his eyes as Lando springs upwards like a demented jack-in-the-box, popping forth on one leg, arms swinging around wildly. A split second later, he stops abruptly in the middle of the stage, directing an unimpressed look into the inky blackness beyond the stage.

“Okay, but really. Have any of you even had a papaya? That’s right. It’s a shit fruit. It has none of the zest, the fun, that its name implies. Who even named it? What the fuck were they thinking?!”

As his tone borders on hysterics, laughter washes over him like a warm blanket, sent his way from the shadowed masses before him. Keeping his energy up like this, even as his set draws to a close, is never easy — but so worth the laughs. The spotlights shining into his eyes are so bright that the crowd is nothing more than a series of imposing, faceless silhouettes. 

But Lando doesn’t need to see his audience to connect with them. If performing a comedy set is like screaming into the void, well… Lando has always been capable of drawing laughter from within the void.

“Yet here I was, sipping from a glass of papaya juice so good that I thought I’d tasted heaven. One sip was all it took… to move me to tears.” Here, his voice grows theatrical, and he begins feigning an almost clownish kind of sadness. His fingers tremble as he mimes a comically small sip from the world’s tiniest teacup. Somewhere in the audience, someone cackles so loudly that their voice cracks.

“Thank you.” Lando can’t help but grin back in the face of such open adulation, which only garners him even more cheers. “Anyway, I’ve changed a lot since then. I discovered therapy, for one. And antidepressants. The lows? No longer as low. The highs? No longer juice-related.”

Cheers. Whistles. Laughter. Oh, how he loves the sound of it.

“That’s right, folks! It’s only going uphill from here! I’m taking my life and making it papaya!”

“Papaya!” someone in the crowd shouts back.

Lando doesn’t miss a beat, turning that tiny bit of reciprocity into a full-on chant, clapping his hands over his head in time with the beat. The crowd roars back at him without needing much encouragement at all. Their silhouettes sway back and forth in time. “Papaya, papaya!”, and the abyss laughs, and laughs, and laughs right back at him.

“Thank you so much, everybody! I have been Lando Norris, and you… oh, you have been such a great crowd!” Lando crows, even as the crowd keeps up its chant for him. Not even his clumsy attempts to affix the mic back to its stand — the customary sign that his comedy set is about to end — discourages them from continuing to bid him farewell. “I’ll be here doing Fringe Rising every Tuesday and Thursday, along with a solo show during the festival, every other day of the week! Hopefully, I’ll see some of you there, but until then, that’s my time! And—you’vebeensuchagreataudiencethankyoubye!”

The grin that spreads across Lando’s face as he rushes offstage is so wide, it makes his cheeks hurt. The crowd’s sustained clapping is so buoyant for his spirits that he might as well be floating down the stage steps, a cartoon character drifting through the air on a cloud of his own high. He’d had no doubts about the success of his set tonight — he is, after all, the biggest name on the lineup. But god, does it feel good to bask in an audience’s adoration. 

Lando almost wishes he could run back onstage again, arms outstretched, and drink it all in. He is, after all, none other than Bristol’s boy king of comedy, whose career went stratospheric after two years of pain, self-doubt, and tireless honing of his craft through it all. He’s worked hard for everything he has to his name — the slot on this prestigious, curated showcase at the Edinburgh Fringe, the sold-out solo shows running all month long, the appearances on primetime comedy television, and even the Netflix comedy special in the works. Every clap, every cheer, has been earned. After so long, Lando is finally — finally! — reaping what he’s sown.

It isn’t exactly going uphill from here. As far as Lando is concerned, he’s already at the top.

Lando’s eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the venue in time to give the MC a customary high-five and backslap, as tradition calls for. Every comedian gets a high-five no matter how their set goes — a congratulations if the set goes well, or a commiseration if it’s bombed. Of course, Lando hasn’t had any of the latter in a while. Failure is something he no longer remembers the taste of. And with how hard he’s been working… surely, that’s just what he deserves.

“Whoa! Wow, wow, wow! You guys!”

Onstage, Alex Albon — part-time comedian, full-time zookeeper, all-around good guy, and tonight’s MC — has to shout into the mic over the rapturous applause, still going after Lando’s set. “Oh my goodness! I would tell you to give it up one more time for Lando Norris, but you guys clearly got the memo already!”

Lando’s smug grin remains even as he weaves past the front-of-stage seating, beelining towards a swarthy, dark-haired man nursing a beer alone at the back of the venue. He parks himself smoothly on an adjacent bar stool and gratefully fist-bumps his old friend, his grin not fading as Alex continues to sing his praises onstage.

“Oy, cabrón! You fucking killed it up there!”

“Aw, thanks, Carlos. It was nothing.”

“Oh no, Lanno. You cannot be doing this false modesty thing all the time. You know you did well, so… take the compliment, eh? Most of these people are probably here because it’s the only way they’ll get to see you. Your solo show sold out so fast!”

Lando smirks at the sound of his longtime comedy compatriot’s signature mispronunciation of his name, courtesy of the strong Spanish accent that makes him so popular with crowds. “No way, mate. You got plenty of cheers before your set even started, and you’ve been doing this comedy thing for much longer than I have. All the Fringe veterans are probably here to see you, all the way over from España.”

“Ah, but I am not the one who has been on Taskmaster in two countries. I don’t even want to do this full-time. If a genie came to me and asked me, ‘Carlos, would you rather have your own Netflix special, or improve your golf handicap by two?’ I would take the handicap.”

“But I still think you should reconsider that way of thinking. If I’ve made it to where I am today, you’d make it farther in half the time. Your comedy is genius, Carlos. You deserve a sold-out solo run and a Netflix special as much as I do!”

Carlos just shakes his head. “Sometimes it’s not about what we deserve, cabrón. It’s about what we want, and what we do to get it.”

Lando is about to argue, but Carlos shushes him so dismissively that he sits back in his seat like a told-off child. Onstage, Alex’s speech is approaching a crescendo, and Carlos has always been the type to show fellow performers as much decorum as possible.

“Anyway, thank you all so much for being here tonight at Fringe Rising! You’ve made it such a great opening night for me and our amazing line-up here, and we all appreciate you taking the time to come out and see our little showcase. Please, put your hands together one more time for our wonderful comedians from far and wide — Charles Leclerc from Monaco! Carlos Sainz from Spain! And Britain’s very own, Lando Norris!”

Lando’s grin reappears as the cheers wash over him, while Carlos puts on a demure smile, ducking his head down behind his beer bottle jokingly.

“Where is Charles, anyway?” asks Lando, suddenly realising that the showcase’s usual opener is absent. “Doesn’t he know you aren’t really supposed to leave before everyone’s done with their sets?”

Carlos shakes his head. “Don’t be so harsh on him, Lanno. He’s new, but he’s not stupid. He had to leave early to do that showcase that George Russell hosts every year.”

Lando has to stifle a snicker. “Charles is doing the comedy Powerpoint showcase?!”

“Ay, don’t look so surprised. He’s actually very funny if you give him a chance.”

Lando would beg to differ, but doesn’t want to argue with Carlos over the sound of Alex’s speech. At the risk of sounding petty and mean, Charles is still a rookie comedian, and all his sets that Lando has seen have been unpolished at best and amateurish at worst. Lando can tell that Charles cruises through his sets; that he doesn’t workshop his material and probably doesn’t even know how to. And Lando would definitely never say this out loud, but deep down he suspects that Charles had only landed this Fringe Rising spot (and plenty of other comedy club slots) only because he might be the hottest man to ever attempt a career in stand-up comedy.

But, that also explains why Charles is a rookie, and why Lando is within grasp of the top rung of the stand-up comedy ladder. Nobody works for this quite as hard as him. Nobody deserves this like he does.

The crowd soon falls into hushed whispers as the cheers for past performers gradually dies down. Onstage, Alex quickly segues into the next bit of his speech before any more stray cheers add even more time onto their already overtime showcase.

“We’ve got one more set for you tonight,” says Alex, “and boy, am I excited to introduce him. Now, this next act is like the ghost of international stand-up comedy. Almost nobody’s seen him perform… and yet everyone’s talking about him! This man is so very difficult to pin down, mark my words — but we’ve managed to wrangle him to the Fringe Rising stage, all the way from Australia, for what might be one of the rarest and most hype-worthy performances at this fest. Let’s get the energy back up in here, guys! Please give it up for… Oscar Piastri!”

Carlos leans in towards Lando. “Oh, I’m interested to see this guy. Some people are saying he’s only done five shows total, and nobody can stop talking about him.”

Five shows total? Is he fucking serious?!

Lando’s fist clenches involuntarily. Just like at concerts and festivals, the last set in a showcase is always awarded to the most prestigious performer on the lineup. When he’d gotten the email that he would be performing second-last in the night, Lando had presumed that Alex had somehow managed to land a real big hitter — one of the rare few comedians who sold out arena tours and ran their own TV shows. 

But this is who they’d given the final billing to instead of him? A complete fucking amateur?!

“You’d think the show closer should be someone more… accomplished,” Lando starts, only to get shushed by Carlos again as Alex ducks offstage and the lights dim once more.

The filler music fades, and a lone figure clad in a hoodie, cargo shorts, and Birkenstocks — no mean feat for Edinburgh weather — walks slowly onstage, lifting a hand in front of his eyes to fend off the harsh spotlights. His short brown hair is accentuated by a long, floppy wave of a fringe that falls into his eyes carelessly, making his boyish face look even younger than he already is.

“Whoa,” says the newcomer, his voice slow and languid with a stereotypical Australian drawl. “Pretty bright up here, hey?”

A few people in the crowd start chuckling. Lando’s brow furrows. What the hell is going on? The man hasn’t even said anything actually funny?!

“Anyway, how’re ya doing tonight, Edinburgh? My name’s Oscar, and… well, apparently I’m here to do some comedy. But I’m not quite sure how this whole comedy thing works in these parts — I’ve come all the way from Australia, and, well, you know. We do everything upside down there. So, uh, you’re gonna have to be pretty patient with me, alright? Cause I’m, uh… not actually supposed to be here.”

He shoots the audience a conspiratorial look, and a rustle of both anticipation and uncertainty travels through the crowds. No laughs yet, though — and Lando secretly hopes that it remains that way for the rest of his set.

“So, I just moved up here from Melbourne,” continues Oscar, “and I don’t really know anyone here — no friends or family. But the other day, I had to go to the hospital, and the nurse… she took down my details, and what I was at the hospital for… and then she asked me for an emergency contact. And I told her, ‘Barbara, I don’t have an emergency contact in this country. I don’t know anyone here except… well, you. So maybe you could be my emergency contact.’ And Barbara just shakes her head and keeps saying, ‘No, I can’t be your emergency contact. You need to give me the name and phone number of someone in the United Kingdom that you trust.’”

Lando slumps over onto his crossed arms and lets out a yawn. Overly long buildup, lacklustre delivery… where is this even going?

“Now, I’m a little offended by this.” Oscar puts his hand over his heart, feigning shock. “I said, ‘Barbara! How could you imply that I don’t trust you?! You’re the only person in this country who knows my deepest, darkest secret, Barbara. You’re the only person in this country who knows I have haemorrhoids!

“I put my trust in you, Barbara, and this is how you treat me? By not wanting to be the emergency contact for someone who has been so vulnerable with you by telling you that he has haemorrhoids?!”

A few isolated laughs rise from the crowd. Oscar raises an eyebrow at the crowd, seemingly dissatisfied by the reception to this joke.

“Uh, hello?” A small smirk flashes across his face. “Did you guys get that? No? Ah, fuck.”

To Lando’s horror, this blatant request for more laughs gets Oscar exactly that. Full-bodied guffaws and a lone whoop rise from the crowd, as Oscar pulls a comically mortified expression. Lando scans the audience, tries to read into their body language from all he can see of their backs. Are they even watching the same set as he is?! Is this really what counts as comedy at the Fringe these days?

“Long story short, guys, Barbara didn’t want to be my emergency contact.” A chorus of ‘aww-s’ prompts Oscar to nod along, gratefully accepting the crowd’s pity. “Thank you, thank you. Anyway, now that I’ve also entrusted all of you with knowledge of my haemorrhoids… would anyone here like to be my emergency contact?”

Something in the room snaps as soon as Oscar’s joke comes full circle. Even though he’d forcibly torn open the floodgates himself, the crowd suddenly seems more than happy to grant him their approval. No sooner than he delivers his first punchline with a self-deprecating smirk, the audience starts shrieking, howling, with pure delight. 

Next to Lando, even Carlos is crowing with laughter; his wheezy chuckles reminiscent of a dying pterodactyl’s cries. Lando regards his friend with utter disbelief — but Carlos is too busy laughing; too enraptured by Oscar’s joke to even notice Lando’s disdain for the set.

“Wow,” Oscar remarks dryly, once the audience’s hysterics have calmed to a volume low enough for him to be heard once more. “You guys really liked that one, huh? Okay, noting that down.” 

He flashes a comically embarrassed look at the crowd, and a new wave of cackles escapes the audience. 

“Like I said, I’m not really supposed to be here. After leaving the hospital, I just Googled ‘things to do in Edinburgh that don’t involve sitting down.’ Aaaand… now I’m here. Doing stand-up.”

Lando rolls his eyes at the pun, feeling embattled as the crowd rewards this lowest form of humour with roars of laughter. He’s almost grateful that there isn’t a real scale for measuring how much a crowd is enjoying any given set. If that existed, he’d certainly want to compare his own metrics to Oscar… and he’s no longer confident that his results would knock the other comedian’s out of the park. 

For some unfathomable reason, the Australian doesn’t need to work for the house’s approval at all. He merely needs to ask them to laugh, and the crowd will acquiesce like clockwork.

Oscar leaves the stage to thunderous applause and cheers so deafening that it feels as if the walls might crumble any second. Carlos turns to Lando as the venue lights come up, grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat. Even as Lando is slumped over onto folded arms beside him, Carlos remains completely oblivious to his new pensive mood.

“Oi, Lanno, come on.” Carlos hoists himself off his bar stool, boisterously gesturing for Lando to do the same. “Let’s go to the green room and congratulate him. What a set for an almost-newcomer, huh?”

Lando shakes his head slowly. “You know, I actually don’t really feel so good. Might go back to the hotel and get an early night…don’t wanna risk having to cancel my show tomorrow.”

Distracted by his intent to head backstage, Carlos doesn’t see through his lame little lie. “Ah, okay. You push yourself too hard, Lanno! Five shows a week is crazy, even Charles isn’t doing that many. Get some rest, okay, cabrón? I’ll tell the new guy you said hi.”

“Yeah, sure,” replies Lando, even though the last thing he wants is for the new guy to think that he holds him in any kind of esteem.

Part of him wants Carlos — one of the only comedians in this room that he actually respects — to notice his frustration. To ask what’s wrong, and maybe abandon going backstage in favour of buying him a drink. But, just like all the flaws in his set; all the failures of comedy theory that Lando could so easily list if asked, his contempt for Oscar is both as imperceptible and irrelevant as his growing chagrin. 

Nobody notices… and nobody feels the same.

///

Over the next few days, Lando’s disdain for Oscar grows and festers like an untreated wound. His excitement for Fringe Rising before the start of the festival had been virtually unquenchable. Now, he thanks his lucky stars that he only has to do this showcase twice a week. Having to see Oscar any more than that would make him inclined to blow his brains out on stage. 

Every time he sees the floppy-haired Australian and his shit-eating smirk, he is reminded of just how unfair everything has become. Lando is only where he is today after shedding plenty of blood, sweat, and tears. He owes his success to the countless nights spent perfecting his sets, even when it meant pushing through sheer exhaustion accumulated over too many shifts at too many thankless part-time jobs. 

All that, and for what? To be ousted for final billing at a Fringe showcase by a no-name from the world’s most godforsaken continent, with a mere five shows under his belt? 

That just doesn’t seem right. Something’s gotta give.

But night after night, Oscar never bombs — never even comes close to bombing, because the audience always inexplicably becomes putty in his hands the moment he asks them to laugh at him. 

Lando never bombs either, but nobody seems to care that he doesn’t.

So Alex never offers Lando final billing, and Lando’s own opinion that this is a grave oversight never changes either. The Fringe soon becomes a kind of mental purgatory for him, with nights spent stewing in a cocktail of his own envy and rage. Day after day, the festival ticks by… but nothing ever changes. And Lando grows ever more resentful.

In an ideal world, his path would never cross Oscar’s, apart from the times they are forced to watch each other’s sets from the back of the venue in the name of artistic courtesy. But, as this entire experience has already shown him, the world he lives in is very far from ideal. 

In reality, their paths cross more times than he would like. In the dressing room backstage, where Oscar always sends a meek hello his way, and where Lando — without fail — doesn’t even acknowledge him before storming back out. At the venue bar — same thing. Lando even runs into Oscar at the grocery store, once. That pre-show snack run ends with him leaving Tesco empty-handed, after lying that he’s leaving and  in a big hurry, just to avoid any further conversation with him. 

Lando does his show hungry that night. His stomach starts hurting twenty minutes into his fifty-five-minute set — but at least the loud growl of his gastric pangs earns him an unexpected extra round of laughter from the audience.

Wednesday may be hump day, but Tuesday and Thursday are the real bookends to Lando’s shit sandwich of a week. Unlike Charles, Lando has nowhere to be — or even to pretend to be — during Oscar’s sets. So he always has to stay, to watch a set that never gets funnier than the last, delivered by a comedian who never grows more appealing, no matter how many times he’s forced to look at him.

And look at Oscar he does. Because what the fuck else is he supposed to when he’s a captive audience member for a set he can’t walk out of for fear of being cancelled by comedy Twitter? 

Soon enough, the Australian’s visage becomes one he can recall on command, every detail instantaneously available. The short, shiny, yet floppy brown hair. The long, rabbit-like front teeth hiding behind lips almost permanently curled into a lazy smile. The smattering of freckles and tiny moles all across his cheeks and neck. The deep brown eyes.

Sometimes, when he is alone at night, Lando summons all these details in his mind’s eye, painstakingly assembling as detailed a picture of Oscar as he can. Then he tacks it to a dartboard in his mind and fucking obliterates it.

The most infuriating part of all this? Despite how open Lando’s hostility is, Oscar doesn’t seem to notice… or care. Before every show, a hello. After every show, a wave goodbye, even though Lando scrambles out of his seat to leave the moment Oscar descends from the stage. 

Lando soon convinces himself of a secret third possibility — that Oscar has noticed, and does care, and is using their forced proximity as a reason to rub his omnipresence in Lando’s face. To terrorise Lando with his constant hellos and heys and painfully Australian okays. To ensure, simply speaking, that Lando will never know peace as long as the Fringe is running.

What’s worse is that, after barely any time at all, Oscar’s nefarious form of psychological warfare actually works. As Lando’s animosity towards the Australian grows, he begins to search for him wherever he goes, obsessed with fantasies of telling him exactly what he thinks of him. 

He searches for Oscar in the crowds at his solo shows, his eyes straining under the spotlight, desperate to catch sight of that floppy brown fringe somewhere in the seats. He even begins frequenting the Tesco Metro on snack runs more often than not, hoping that Oscar will be there for him to unleash the full power of the contempt in his heart, even if the Australian opens with his naive little hello.

But, as always, this is not an ideal world. Oscar never returns to the Tesco Metro. Lando never goes to the green room. Their paths remain as distant as they can, for two comedians working the same show.

And then, one night, Lando is offered redemption.

He spots Oscar in the crowd for his solo set immediately after he bounces onstage. The Australian’s placid brown eyes are fixed on him in the split second that Lando notices his presence — and, judging by the slow, relaxed smile that crawls onto his face, he knows he’s seen him. Lando’s smile freezes for a beat as he spots his nemesis. He fumbles to remove the mic from its stand, spending extra seconds clambering about as the audience waits for him to begin. 

So, Oscar has really done it. He really had the balls to show his face at the superior comedian’s set. Well, if he wants so desperately to get schooled in the art of real stand-up, who is Lando to deny him?

That night, the show is unequivocally the best solo set he’s ever put on in his entire life. Lando’s brand of comedy has always been fairly slapstick and energetic, but tonight he is something else altogether onstage. He’s a whirling dervish — jumping higher, acting harder — all to get the crowd laughing louder and louder to feed the hungry void of ambition within him. 

Not even halfway through the set, a few people in the front row are actually wheezing with exertion. The air positively sparkles with mirth, along with the glint of teary-eyed audience members, who are doubled over and crying with laughter. 

But Lando barely notices any of this. He’s performing for one audience member alone, eyes fixed on the dead centre of the room, tracking Oscar’s every reaction like a hawk. He sees when Oscar smiles, sees when he laughs, sees when he throws his head back and lets out a full-bellied guffaw right when Lando’s repertoire is meant to take the audience by surprise.

Do you see it now, Oscar? he wants to say. This is how comedy is meant to be done.

The crowd is electric when the lights come up. The buzz and rustle of their post-show discussion remains at a constant volume as his audience relives their favourite moments from the set amongst themselves. Only a few figures make their way to the exit almost immediately. The rest remain milling around the bar, or even in their seats — waiting for Lando to come around and mingle with the audience, all wanting a piece of him.

Lando spends the rest of the night working the crowd. Making small talk with new fans. Hugging old fans he recognises from back in the day. Taking pictures with Fringe grannies who have dedicated their twilight years to exploring the arts — and don’t they love a dashing young man who can make them laugh. 

He almost forgets about the unwelcome interloper in the audience altogether. But then the crowd thins out, the bar staff get ready to close the venue for the night, and Oscar appears in front of him once more — a fluffy-haired nightmare emerging from the pub’s gloomy atmosphere.

“Lando!” His name sounds foreign on the other man’s tongue; so unrecognisable that he wishes he would say it again, just so he can better get used to the sound of it. “Congrats, man. That was an amazing set. I’d heard a lot about you, but tonight completely blew me away. I never really knew comedy could be like this before.”

It takes all of Lando’s willpower not to let out an exultant scream directly into the Australian’s smug little face. He barely hears Oscar’s continued babbling over the imaginary crescendo of a million variations of his triumphal speech, all meticulously laid out in his vengeful fantasies. Now is his chance to put Oscarin his place. Now is the time to live out his dreams.

Oscar has stopped talking now, and just looks at him expectantly, as if Lando would care about anything he has to say. He reaches within himself; searches for the words that he’s rehearsed for so long.

And all he can say is a lame, muted, “Thanks.”

Lando can’t tell if it is disappointment or satisfaction that makes Oscar turn away. “Okay,” he says, in that same semi-ironic deadpan cadence he uses incessantly onstage — or is that just his voice? “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t want to take you away from your other fans. See you on Tuesday, mate.”

And then he turns away, waving over his shoulder as he disappears out the pub doors and into the night. Lando immediately turns to the next fan waiting to speak with him, but something about the night has inexplicably changed for the worse. His smile feels plastic, his enthusiasm more strained than genuine.

After leaving the bar, he finds himself looking around the doors, half-expecting Oscar to emerge from the darkness again and shoot him that infuriating smile of his. But of course, the other man is long gone. 

And Lando walks home alone, burning with shame.

///

The third and final week of the Fringe dawns, and Lando senses that a reckoning is near.

Festival fatigue has set in for most Fringe performers now, taking root so deeply in their bones that most of them barely have the energy to go out for drinks after their sets. 

Lando himself is no exception. He has been curling up beneath the covers of his hotel duvet earlier and earlier each night, unable to keep up with Carlos and Charles’s constant, fervoured partying. Lando’s especially unable to face the possibility of running into Oscar; to see that smile directed at him under the warm fairy lights of some outdoor beer garden. 

All he wants is for the festival to be over, so he can go back home to London, sleep for a week, and forget that he’d ever been upstaged by an amateur comedian from fucking Australia. Who he still can’t stop thinking about.

Performing the same material for two weeks straight grows stale for even the most seasoned comedians. So, in this third and final Fringe week, Lando decides to try something different. 

Ensemble showcases at comedy clubs are more often than not used to test new material on unsuspecting audiences — so what better time to switch up his set than in front of one of the most distinguished festival audiences in the world? 

At worst, he doesn’t get a laugh after one punchline and immediately switches back to his tried and tested material. And at best? He proves himself to be the best improviser in the comedy arena and gives the usurper of his rightfully-deserved final billing slot a run for his money. 

“So, what is it with so many people these days thinking I’m Australian?” he starts one night, in place of his old set closer about papayas. “I was actually down under for a short tour recently, and no matter what I did, all the MCs just kept introducing me as a local comedian. But I’d never been to Australia before that. Don’t have the accent. Have never even tried imitating the accent — I know, right? Aren’t I a saint?

“So, after a couple of nights of letting it slide, I decided to bring it up. I was like, ‘Hey, man, you’ve got to stop telling the crowds I’m Australian. Why do you even think I’m from here, anyway? Is it my hot surfer bod? Is it the fact that I’m kinda sun-kissed and incredibly fuckable? Cause, uh… thank you, but you’re still wrong. About me being Australian, I mean. All the rest of it, you’re toootally right about.”

This gets a fair few laughs from the crowd — Lando’s anecdote is building nicely. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Oscar watching his set from the bar, an inexplicable smile forming on his lips. He forces himself to pivot to the opposite end of the crowd, to ignore his urge to storm offstage and grab the other man by the throat, and scream, This is not about you! This is my set!

This is about me!

Every comedian always envisions their jokes being met with at least a modicum of enthusiasm when they’re delivered for the first time. But never in his wildest dreams had Lando expected this strong of a reaction from the audience tonight — certainly not for a joke fresh out of the oven with no feedback in sight. It is a twisty, turny anecdote, one about scandal and mistaken identity with a second punchline that leaves a few audience members braying hysterically. 

By the time he walks off that stage, Lando is convinced that tonight has confirmed which one of them is better, once and for all. He’s done it, now. He’s out-written, out-performed, even out-Australian-ed Oscar. 

The reckoning has come, and Lando has come out on top.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks until Oscar saunters onstage a few minutes later. He stops. Squints at the crowd. Pulls a sheepish expression and says, “Well, uh… g’day, everyone. It’s me again. Lando Norris.”

And of course, the crowd absolutely. Fucking. Loses it.

So this is what all of Lando’s efforts have come to. Hours spent crafting new jokes, weighing up the risks of debuting untested material in front of a discerning crowd… all for Oscar to ride in on his high horse and deliver his first joke of the night, entirely at Lando’s expense. 

The rest of his set passes in a blur, as Lando seethes and fumes and curses Oscar for taking a comedic opportunity that he knows, deep down, is perfectly fair game. But that taste of victory, the way it felt in his hands before slipping out of his grasp again — Lando’s ego won’t allow him to let go of it just yet.

And so, he launches himself out of his chair before Oscar has even fully left the stage, leaving a bewildered Carlos calling out questions in vain. His footsteps thud angrily on the bare concrete backstage as he makes his way to the green room, shoving its flimsy wooden door open so hard that it bangs against the opposite wall.

Oscar is in there, gratefully chugging down an entire bottle of water only to choke with surprise at Lando’s frenzied entry. When he turns to see who it is, that shit-eating little smile returns — and Lando can’t wait to wipe it off his face once and for all.

“Oh, hey, man!” Oscar caps his bottle, feigning nonchalance — or maybe he really does respect Lando that little; maybe he really just doesn’t give a fuck. “I don’t usually see you back here. What’s up—”

“You little shit!” yells Lando, not caring who can hear him even as he slams the door behind them. “You fucking amateur. You think you can come here with your unfunny little set, and your shitty jokes that say please, please, please laugh at me, and take my fucking top spot on the billing? You think you can do all that and then piggyback off the joke I spent half of this festival writing?!”

Oscar’s eyes widen with genuine shock. Whatever sort of blowback he’d been expecting from Lando had certainly not been this loud or intense in his mind.

The Australian holds up his hands as if to placate him, and Lando can’t tell if the mocking edge to his movements is actually there, or if it’s entirely his imagination. “Dude, hey, no need for that. I would never have built off your joke if I knew you’d object to it. I’m really sorry, okay? If you’re gonna run that bit at the end of your set again, I promise I won’t repeat what I did tonight.”

“It’s not about whether I’m objecting to it now,” Lando replies through gritted teeth. “It’s about the fact that you don’t get to make jokes of your fellow comedians like that! What, did you want to fucking rub it in a little harder? An amateur, taking last billing over the guy with the real solo hour and the real Netflix special? Well, fuck you too, dude!”

Oscar flinches slightly at Lando’s grotesque imitation of him. “Lando, I genuinely have no clue what you’re talking about, okay? I respect you a lot; I think you’re one of the coolest comedians at the fest. But… isn’t that what we’re all here for? To make jokes out of ourselves?”

Lando chuckles bitterly. “Of course you would say that. You haven’t worked for this for a day in your life, have you?”

He pivots to leave, but is overcome by a fresh wave of self-hatred as Oscar’s voice stops him in his tracks. “Hey, come on. Can’t we talk this out?”

“Oscar! Oscar.” Lando lets out a hysterical laugh. “You don’t need to pretend you want to be my friend any more, alright? There is nothing to talk out! In fact, I would rather not be talking to you at all, because everything you do gets on my last fucking nerve. So let’s just do our last show on Thursday, and not step on each other’s toes, and then we can both go back to never seeing each other again. Okay?”

Oscar blinks. And then, to Lando’s continued frustration, he smiles. Again.

“Nah, hold up. There’s definitely stuff to talk about here. Just… let me get this straight. You think I’m unfunny. You think I don’t deserve a spot on that stage. You hate me.”

“Yes. Exactly. Glad it’s finally gotten through that thick skull of yours.”

Oscar just fixes his big, impassive brown eyes on Lando; brought to life for once by a wry spark that flickers into being for just a split second. 

“You hate me… and yet you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

Lando lets out the most patronising scoff he can muster. “Untalented and delusional. Just when I thought you couldn’t—”

“You hate me, and yet you’re always in that same little corner seat in the back of the pub when I’m onstage.” Oscar’s eyes remain locked directly onto his, his tone mirroring the half-dead neutrality of someone reading boring facts off a piece of paper. “You could just go home and call it a night, but you’re always there anyway. Watching a set you hate.”

Lando opens his mouth to speak, and nothing but a shaky, slow exhale hisses out of him. He is spent; a deflated balloon. When he inhales, the air feels stale and used — Oscar is so close now; breaths mingling in the shared air.

“You hate me, so you keep looking for me every night in the audience of your solo hour… and when you do find me, you don’t even look away again, so it’s like you’re delivering your entire set to me alone.”

“You’re insane.” Lando means to spit the line in his face, heroically aggrieved, but it comes out as a plaintive, airy whine instead. He swears he sees the corner of Oscar’s permanently impassive mouth twitch — the ghost of a smug, triumphant smile passing over and through him. 

“You hate me,” Oscar continues, as if Lando hasn’t even said anything. “Which is why you think about me all the time, right? You hate me.”

Lando feels his expression spasm involuntarily. Control over his facial muscles appears to be rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “Yes,” he manages to growl; his voice a ferocious whisper rising from the back of his throat. “I hate you.”

“Okay,” says Oscar — that fucking stupid, guileless, deadpan okay again. Something about the way Oscar says it — the detached sheen that descends over his eyes, the nasal twang of his Australian accent — makes Lando want to punch something. 

But he can’t even feel his fingers; couldn’t clench a fist if he tried. Oscar’s shoulder knocks against his provocatively, daring him to say something. To do something. 

Surely Oscar knows, then, that the proximity of his body to Lando’s is the thing that has neutralised his opponent. He is a cat, toying with the prey he holds immobilised beneath one paw.

He’s enjoying this.

“You hate me,” says Oscar, his face now unfathomably close to Lando’s, “and you definitely don’t want me to kiss you.”

“No.” Lando’s voice is barely louder than a breath on the wind. “I don’t want you to kiss me.”

Oscar blinks ever so slowly, those impassive brown eyes like a vortex threatening to swallow Lando whole. His lips part, revealing a flash of teeth — a snarl, a smile; an indecipherable, predatory, in-between thing.

“Then stop me,” he says.

Lando hates the way his voice shakes when he speaks next. “What?”

“Stop me,” Oscar repeats. “You don’t want me to kiss you. So stop me.”

There it is — a real smile now. Tentative. Shy, almost. Oscar may have the upper hand, but he doesn’t know that he’s won.

So Lando does the only thing he knows will catch him off guard. He pushes out with the flats of both palms, shoving Oscar so that he stumbles slightly, balance transferring to his back foot. 

And then, while the surprise is still fresh on his face, Lando grabs the collar of Oscar’s hoodie in both his fists, pulls him back in, and kisses him first.

Time freezes, turning a single moment into eternity. Lando can taste the surprise on Oscar’s lips — and oh, does his little reward taste sweet. 

But neither does it last long. Oscar returns the kiss slowly, tantalisingly… only to shove Lando away just as he eases into the tempo of their shared movements.

“Look at you,” teases Oscar, his smirk more self-satisfied than ever. “All red in the face for the world’s most boring comedian.”

One of Oscar’s hands pushes him back up against the green room wall. The other begins tugging at Lando’s belt buckle slowly, drawing his attention to the fact that he is undeniably, achingly hard. All he can think about still is Oscar’s lips; the burning need he has to shut him up again; to kiss him so long and deep that they both forget how to breathe. 

Yet he can’t move; can’t brandish another witty retort against Oscar’s verbal onslaught. His open palms brace himself against the cool brick walls of the dressing room. The only sound that escapes him, right as Oscar’s hand roughly curls around his cock, is a small, plaintive moan.

“Stop me,” says Oscar, looking him right in the eye; a request for consent disguised as more vicious banter.

Lando sees his opportunity, takes it. “Don’t tell me what to do. Shut the fuck up and finish what you started.”

Oscar’s eyes brighten with a new, mischievous twinkle. His smile grows even more insidious. Contrary to Lando’s expectations, he seems positively delighted that Lando has finally found some bite. 

“Ah.” His brown eyes grow coy. “So you do want this. Maybe I should just go, then. Or maybe I should make you beg for it.”

“Like you beg your audience for laughs?”

Oscar draws closer to Lando once more, his lips hovering just out of reach from where he has Lando pressed against the green room’s walls. Down below, his spit-slicked hand begins working Lando’s dick slowly, to a rhythm that is as delicious as it is infuriating.

“Sure, I may beg,” he says, as Lando’s breath begins to hitch in his throat. “But I also get what I want. Every. Single. Time. And now, you’re going to give me what I want too.”

Lando’s palms, still braced against cold, hard brick, clench inconsequentially into fists as he fights back another moan. “Fat fucking chance.” He barely manages to get the words out from between gritted teeth as Oscar’s thumb tantalisingly circles the head of his cock, right as he begins to speak.

Oscar’s eyes widen with mock surprise. His hand all but stops moving, his grip loosens… and to Lando’s embarrassment, the shock of it is so jarring that he lets out a pathetically loud whimper.

“Okay.” There it is, that hatefully deadpan delivery sending a fresh rush of blood to his erection even as Oscar withdraws. “That’s cool. Let’s call it a night, then.”

For a moment, Lando actually falls for Oscar’s feint. The sudden void left by Oscar’s hands, no longer on Lando’s chest or cock, is wholly unbearable. A wave of embarrassment courses through him, as he struggles to pull his briefs back up with trembling fingers. “Fucking arsehole.”

Oscar lashes out almost faster than Lando can process, both hands snatching up his own and pinning them to the wall. “I’ll ask again,” he says teasingly. “Are you going to give me what I want?”

“What the fuck do you want?!” Lando’s growl is equal parts anger and desperation.

“Tell me I’m not boring.”

“No way.”

Oscar’s right hand loosens on Lando’s left, returning to caress Lando’s cock slowly — too slowly.

“Tell me. I’m not. Boring.”

“No fucking way.”

In response to this, Oscar tightens his grip, moving slightly faster again… and Lando understands the rules of the game now. He has to grudgingly respect Oscar’s ruthlessness when it comes to flipping the rules whenever he wants — especially if this is the effect it’s having on him offstage.

“Say it, Lando. Give me what I want.”

“You’re a hack,” he retorts, as forcefully as he can in between shaking breaths, while Oscar’s hand moves faster with every vitriolic syllable that falls from his lips. “You being in this show was a total fluke. You are painfully. Fucking. Unentertaining.”

“Am I, now?”

Lando presumes the question is rhetorical, but his lack of a response earns him another sudden stop that makes him choke with surprise.

“Am I?” Oscar repeats.

“Yes,” whines Lando, even as he senses a new trap being set. The return of Oscar’s smug grin confirms his instincts barely a second later.

“Aw,” he coos, voice dripping with toxic endearment. “You’re a good comedian… but a veeeery bad liar.”

Lando can barely speak through the pressure building in his chest. Through the frustration of his imminent orgasm being withheld yet again, Oscar diabolically slows his pace. “I’m… not… lying.”

“Are you sure?”

Faster once more, to Lando’s relief.

“Cause if I’m so unentertaining…”

Faster, and faster, and faster—

“…then why was it so easy to make you come?”

And Oscar steps away deftly, just in time, as Lando makes an absolute mess of himself.

A strange, potent cocktail of shame, embarrassment, and elation bubbles through the haze of Lando’s post-orgasm brain fog. A hand on his shoulder brings him out of his reverie — Oscar has brought over a towel from the green room rack.

The Australian’s brown eyes search his again. No trace of mischief or malice remains in them. Now, they are just curious… and, dare he say it, kind.

“You okay?” he asks.

Lando just nods as he wipes himself off, still too buzzed to speak.

“Okay. Good. Phew!” Oscar smiles, and it is a real one this time; a cheek-to-cheek beam with a hundred megawatts of charm. “I don’t usually do that without dinner and drinks first, by the way. But you can buy me a beer tomorrow before the show to make up for it. Sounds good?”

Lando’s head jerks back up to look at Oscar. The earnest expression on his face catches him completely off guard. There are clearly no more games left to play now — all that’s left is to decide where they go from here. And Oscar has clearly already decided for the both of them.

But the change in tone is still as absurd as it is welcome, bringing with it relief… and amusement.

Lando cracks a smile — small, at first, but it grows and grows.

“Sounds great,” he says.

And then for the first time, as Oscar looks on, he laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

[milliesfishes]

millie i’m gonna need you to write something about the vasectomy i beg

⋆౨ৎSweet Nothings⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: pregnancy scare, sexual references pairing: alex nilsen x fem reader summary: you and alex have a scare that causes a big decision author’s note: first alex fic rahhhh! this is based on something that happened in the book but it's millie's version :) Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

You were late.

Not late in a fun way, like at parties or the last hours of the night. The thing that was late was a certain womanly bleeding between your legs, one you dreaded but needed at the same time. It was a smoke signal, a universal thumbs up that you wouldn't have to worry about a life changing thing for the next thirty days.

Fish curled around your legs as you stared at your calendar, pen shaking above the day marked in black with a single sad face, the day that passed over a week ago. It seemed to taunt you, and you longed for the innocence you'd had when you drew it. Alex used a physical calendar because he claimed he could remember things written there better than on his phone, and you'd adopted the habit as well when it was proven correct.

Your pen clattered to the tabletop as your hand flew to cover your mouth, the realization really hitting you then like a freight train. Your monthly was famously on time, and you always said that it was the only part of you that was. In the past year you'd adopted the habit of going to sleep with a pad in the night before it was set to come, to save several pairs of pajama bottoms.

This week, however, had been a blizzard of work, and there had been a small family crisis that hadn't warranted your flight home, but had kept you on the phone quite a bit, hanging onto text updates. You hadn't even thought about your period since the last one ended.

But now its absence was glaring at you, pointing a finger with a single dreadful word you didn't even dare think yet.

A shaky breath escaped you, and you buried your face in your hands, tears bubbling up and spilling from your eyes. This was all wrong, all so, so wrong. You and Alex had always been careful, or you thought you'd been. One thing you were in agreement on was that you didn't want kids. At least not right now.

It wasn't a money issue. Well, it wasn't not a money issue, but it was more that you wanted to be steady. Your jobs were both secure, lives locked down, love for each other confirmed, but you wanted to enjoy it all. To be young and in love and as stable as the two of you were was a rare thing. Alex had bought a house for goodness' sakes, his grandmother's, but an independent living space nonetheless.

Besides, you loved your life as it was now. To work at a job you enjoyed that made a more than decent living and come home every night to your cat and the love of your life all handsome and happy was everything you'd dreamt of.

And it was all about to be upset if your fears were proven correct. All because of a stupid, undetectable mistake you weren't even aware you were making.

The keys clinked against the doorknob, a telltale sign, and you stood abruptly, staring at the door as it swung open. Alex appeared in its line, the sun lighting his silhouette like a halo. He looked tired, but a smile appeared the second he saw you standing there. With one hand, he firmly shut the door, slipping his shoes off and starting to remove his jacket. Fish padded over to greet him, his black tail bent at the tip. Alex gave him a series of gentle pets before looking up at you with a boyish grin. "Hi baby."

You were frozen in place, new worries overtaking you. How would he react to this? Alex set his bag down and made his way over to you, sliding his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. "How are you?"

"Fine." Your voice nearly broke, but you kept it together, hiding your face in his chest. He always smelled clean and fresh, like laundry, even after a long day dealing with hormonal teenagers. "How was your day?"

"Long." He kissed the top of your head. "Glad it's the weekend. Glad to be back here with you." Alex pulled back, but his smile dropped when he saw your face. Apparently it had fallen back into revealing the nature of your thoughts during its time in his chest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" You forced your mouth to turn back up, but the way he was looking at you caused it to plummet right back to the depths. The tears you'd thought you swallowed stung your eyes again, and a pathetic little noise worked its way out of your mouth.

"Oh, baby-" Alex pulled you back in, and you began to sniffle, a little sob shaking your shoulders. He managed to lead you back over to your chair, where he sat and pulled you across his thighs. You hid your face in his chest still, humiliated by the fact that you hadn't been able to hide it for more than a few minutes after seeing him.

He rubbed your back, letting his lips fall to your forehead. There was a calm front that you knew would be disrupted the second you told him. Alex was steady and unmoving with your troubles, but this was different. "Did something happen?"

You sniffed, nodding and pulling back to look up at him, searching his eyes. "I...I..."

"Slow down, shh." Alex smoothed your hair behind your back. "Deep breaths, sweetheart. Don't work yourself up." His thumb found your cheek, stroking back and forth, effectively soothing you. "Whatever it is we can figure it out."

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, you searched his eyes, voice breaking every other word. "I'm...I'm...late."

"Late?" Alex frowned, confused, but then he noticed your calendar. The black sad face looming like a homing beacon. You swore he went pale. "Oh."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bowed your head. "I'm so scared-"

Alex pulled you back in, cradling your head to his shoulder. He must have been hiding his own shock, as was his way. That was how he always was- comforting you first, composing himself.

When he pulled back, he was all soft words and gentle touches, tucking your hair behind your ears and drying every tear that dripped from your eyes. "Okay. Okay, here's what we're going to do." He was shockingly calm, ever your rock in the storm. "I'm gonna go to the drugstore and get a few tests. You're going to stay here-" Alex shifted you off his lap and stood, opening the fridge and pulling out a can of lime-flavored sparkling water, one of your favorites. "-and drink this. Okay?"

You nodded, taking the can from him after he popped it open. "Okay." The voice that passed your lips hardly sounded like your own, it was so tiny.

He kissed your forehead, holding his hand to your cheek for a second longer than maybe he usually would have. "I'll be back soon, alright? It's gonna be okay."

After he left, your mind was blank except for those four words.

It's gonna be okay.

Negative.

Every test you'd taken came back with one line. Alex had waited dutifully outside the bathroom while you relieved yourself on each stick, leaving them on a towel on the counter. He set the timer on his phone, and then the waiting game had been afoot.

He held you through it, rubbing your back and taking deep breaths that encouraged your own. All you could think to do was cling to him and pray.

When the timer had chimed, you felt like you were walking to your doom. Alex stood behind you, and you could feel him holding his breath.

The first thing you did when you saw the matching results on each test was turn around and cry into his chest. His hold on you was tight, and you felt every anxiety from before fly from your shoulders. It was okay. It was all okay.

No words passed between the two of you. Not about what had happened. Alex swept the tests into the trash can, tossing the towel into the laundry basket and asking if you'd be okay for a few more minutes while he went to get dinner. Everything was a haze as you nodded, and he left you bundled in a fluffy blanket on the couch, double-checking that you were okay before he left again.

You passed out, exhausted from the emotions that had been running rampant in your mind for the past little bit. It was an enormous jump from fear to relief, and your body was limply feeling the effects.

It hardly felt like five minutes had passed before you awoke to his fingers in your hair, gently stroking. You leaned into his touch, shifting your feet and feeling something warm and furry beside them. Fish.

Opening your eyes, you blinked sleepily at him, and he gave you a tired half smile. "Hey. You hungry?"

Sitting up, you yawned lightly, nodding as a response. Alex's hand found yours, twining your fingers together. "I got you a salad from that place you like. And a smoothie."

"Thank you." You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips. "That sounds wonderful."

"I'll bring it to you." He was standing up before you could protest, and then Fish crawled half onto your lap, rendering you immobile.

Once Alex returned, he let you settle into his side while you ate, balancing your salad on one thigh and his on the other. It was quiet, but you didn't mind at all, taking the time to reign in your thoughts.

Setting his and your empty bowls on the coffee table, Alex lifted both his feet onto the couch, parting his legs and reaching for you, as if he was reading your mind. You crawled into him, head against his chest, and he tugged the blanket over the two of you. Fish walked over your back, laying slouched between your side and the couch back, right on Alex's arm. He grunted, shifting so he could still hold you but accommodate the cat.

You rested your ear over his heart, the steadiness of its beat soothing your unsteadiness. Alex always managed to still whatever typhoons were raging within you.

He thumbed your hairline, and Fish started purring, vibrating against both of you. When he spoke, it was in a whisper. "Can we talk about it?"

Nodding, you lifted your head, disarmed by his expression like always. He was serious yet tender, unyielding but gentle. You whispered, "That was really scary."

"It was." Alex's hand on your lower back was drawing soft circles through the blanket. "You were so brave."

You shook your head. "No. You were strong and I was a mess. I..." you trailed off for a moment, the words fleeing your mouth before you could regulate them. "Taking the tests...it really made me realize that I'm not ready for that. I...it was terrifying."

"Yeah," he murmured, hand tracing parallel lines up your spine now. You could practically hear him thinking but couldn't deign to guess what he was about to say. Alex inhaled once through his nose. "What would you think if...if I got a vasectomy?"

Eyebrows shooting up, your eyes went as round as saucers. Fish's purring halted for a minute before starting up again. You shifted on his chest to look at him better. "A vasectomy?"

"I was thinking about it for the entirety of both car rides," he explained, petting your hair now. "To the drugstore and to get food. It's something I've considered before but I never really thought about it seriously until now."

You were still searching his eyes, perplexed as to why he'd jumped there of all places. Maybe later you would have suggested better protection, but never would you have asked this of him. It wouldn't even be something you'd have thought of on your own.

Alex cupped your cheek in his hand, and you leaned into it. His eyes didn't leave yours, making sure you were looking at him too. "Seeing you so worried...I never want you to feel that way again. And the procedure's reversable. We can do other things beforehand just in case it doesn't turn out to be. But..." he pursed his lips for a millisecond, letting out a breath. "If you ever take a pregnancy test again, I want you to be excited. Not scared."

Now your eyes were welling up again for an entirely different reason than earlier. You nodded, hand finding his on your face and squeezing. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Alex turned his hand around and brought yours to his lips. "You'll let me do this for you?"

"Yeah," you whispered, and he smiled, kissing your forehead and adjusting the blanket. Fish purred contently, rolling over onto his back, paws stretched out like he was reaching for the moon.

You kept your eyes open, content as could be. Alex lazily trailed his hand up and down your spine, and after a moment, he murmured, "We're going to save a fortune on condoms, baby."

A laugh passed your lips, and you hid your face in his chest, pressing your lips to his heart.

"I guess we will."

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Clawdia Koopa

Debut: Super Mario Bros.

If you’ve ever tried to take a closer look at the Mario series lore, you’ll realize one thing… it is not very consistent! Mario games are filled with little discrepancies, and of course, plenty of obscure and forgotten characters were practically retconned by the series! And of these, who has suffered a worse fate than Clawdia Koopa?

If you were a gaming fan during the 80s and 90s, you will surely remember Clawdia Koopa, the beloved and female wife of the fearsome King Koopa! She may not have shown up much, but her impact on the Mario world was felt everywhere!

Who could forget making it all the way to the end of the NES game, squaring off against the frightening Bowser himself… only to find out, he was even more scared of his wife than you were of him! As the king of the Koopas cowers before his nagging old ball & chain, Mario, who is in no committed relationship, is able to jump over their heads and grab the ax, sending them both plummeting into lava!

Though their relationship may have had a rocky start, it seems the two were still able to settle down and start a family. Just take a look at this letter Bowser sends you in Super Mario Bros. 3!

Yup, this game introduced the Koopalings, and as Nintendo made very clear, Clawdia was their mother! Not only did the game manual reiterate this fact, it also included some pretty detailed pictures of Clawdia in labor, giving birth to each of the seven! They’re a bit too graphic to reproduce here, but it’s awesome they went that far to flesh out the worldbuilding!

So, if Bowser was married, why did he keep kidnapping Princess Peach? Maybe their marriage wasn’t actually going that great? You see, if you were to 100% Super Mario World twice over, you would actually get to see a secret message written by Bowser:

It’s pretty heavy stuff, and Nintendo hid this message for only the most dedicated of Mario fans! And sure enough, things would only go downhill from here… In Hotel Mario, Bowser would build seven Koopa Hotels just to stay away from his wife, and Clawdia hasn’t been seen in any games since… All the fans who never got this message were pretty confused, wondering where Clawdia Koopa had gone… and they were even more confused with the release of Super Mario Sunshine!

This game introduced Bowser Jr., and he was supposed to be Bowser’s new child! Not only were the Koopalings not mentioned at all, but Clawdia was nowhere to be found, either! Instead, Bowser Jr. kept referring to Peach as his ‘mama’, but she turns out to not be his mother either! What’s going on? If Clawdia and Bowser really did get divorced, then where did Bowser Jr. come from?

Things got even worse when Shigeru Miyamoto was interviewed in 2012, saying “Our current story is that the seven Koopalings are not Bowser's children. Bowser's only child is Bowser Jr., and we do not know who the mother is.” When asked about Clawdia Koopa, Miyamoto ended the interview abruptly. So what’s going on here? Is there some sort of conspiracy to cover up Clawdia Koopa? Who would benefit from this, and why?

Well, it turns out the real culprit may have been right in front of us all along! Bowser actually DID remarry, and the mother of Bowser Jr. is none other than Miyamoto himself! After becoming Bowser’s wife, Miyamoto became jealous of Bowser’s ex-wife, suspecting he still had feelings for her. So Miyamoto went and changed the official story, acting like the Koopalings were never Bowser’s kids to begin with! It was quite a petty move on his part, but since Mario canon is in his hands, there was nothing we could do to stop him…

Clawdia may be gone, but I won’t let this revisionist view of history take place! Most Mario fans today have never even heard of Clawdia Koopa, and that’s sad… But I’m not afraid to say her name! This International Women’s Day, I will be changing my full legal name to Clawdia Koopa in her memory, and I hope anyone who stands with me will do the same! After all, if we let Miyamoto get away with this, who knows what he will do next? He might even try to sully the name of Morton Koopa Sr.!

[kyaa-q]

A Train Wreck (part 1)

Lee Know x fem!reader warnings: fluff but heavy angst and themes of abusive relationships wc: 8k>. AO3 link :) synopsis: Your life has changed a lot throughout the past 6 months, since you started dating Jun. Events lead you to slowly distance yourself from some of the people you loved the most - Stray kids. Even your friendship with Bang Chan, your closest friend, was damaged after that day. Now, you find your life to be like an unstoppable train wreck hurtling toward disaster. You're gradually losing the bonds that had always kept you sane, for a serie of events that turned your world upside down. It feels inevitable: you will crash. Could someone help you avoid the collision? Could someone take the wheel with you, and help you get control over your life again? You don't know anymore. There's only one thing you do know: you are not welcomed and Lee Know, in particular, might hate you. And his opinion about you hurts more than you wanted it to.

Or: Y/N is in an abusive relationship and ends up distancing herself from her friends (Stray Kids). She thinks everybody hates her, especially Lee Know. She doesn't understand the effect he has on her (and vice-versa).

important a/n: This work deals a lot with topics of toxic/abusive relationship. There is no physical violence, but it does show cases of emotional manipulation and the potential impacts it can have over someone. The reader is in a toxic romantic relationship (I'm sorry to all Jun's out there), and the story is basically about how it affect not only the reader herself, but also the people around her who she held dear to her heart. It does contain a lot of self-doubt, anxiety, depressive thoughts and having your world reshaped by someone else, taking down important pillars to someone's life, finally facing what it means to have been deceived and accepting it (eventually). Having said all that, if you think this is a sensitive topic to you, please proceed with caution (if you choose to do so). I suck at tagging, but I hope this note made things a little clearer. In the end, it's supposed to be a way of comforting and healing - which will come, eventually -, especially with the help of someone else. I'm not sure how long this will be, but there's still a long way to go. Also, I use "Lee Know" and "Lee Minho" interchangeably, depends on the feeling. A final note is that this chapter has a lot of flashbacks of the past, so the timelines might be confusing to some, but hopefully it is clear enough and I can convey the message and feeling I aimed for. Lots of love, everybody!

You just finished ordering when your phone rings. Your stomach drops and you catch yourself being scared that it might be your partner, Jun. It hasn’t been an hour since the fight you two had over the phone, and if you were being completely honest, you can’t even recall the exact reason for the argument. What you do recall, though, is the aggressive silence, followed by yelling, aggressive silence again, a very passive-aggressive monologue about how you simply can’t understand. Why are you making things so difficult?, a quiet rage when you tried to speak, finally ending with Jun hanging up on you. In that order, specifically.

You force yourself to analyze the conversation. You remember calmly asking him where he had been the past few days. The overreaction you got threw you off. After days of complete silence from his end, could anyone actually blame you for genuinely being intrigued? Did that mean you were you a control freak? That you did you not trust him? That had never crossed your mind, for God’s sake! You only wanted to know! It was insane what he accused you of, for simply wondering whether he was busy or something similar. Suddenly trying to justify your question as coming from a place of sadness, not control, felt like a weakness. It didn't matter nonetheless, since he had hung up so abruptly. A mix of shame and guilt engulfed you, with a hint of anger that you very consciously denied.

Before you knew it, you were outside walking without direction, just desperate to unwind your mind. You hoped the fresh spring breeze healing powers would be enough. So, you walked and walked and walked, crossing streets and taking turns mindlessly. Or so you thought. You cursed your feet when you, at last, realized where they had dragged you, spotting the JYP-Entertainment building at one corner. A few buildings away, you remind yourself, your favorite coffee shop still stood. You actively deceived yourself, claiming that that is the place your feet had been leading you all along and resuming a much more determined march. It was the craving for coffee that had brought you here, you told yourself, and not the fear of running into any of the boys.

“Ma’am?” The cashier, a boy that probably is still in school, brings you back from your daze. He has a painfully obvious worried look on his face. Do I look on the outside as shitty as I feel in the inside? The phone stops ringing and you blink, hoping your mask is good enough to pull off a relaxed demeanor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You reach into your bag and aim for your wallet, doing your best to ignore the pity on that young boy’s eyes. Shame swirls inside your chest and you’re scared you might start crying in front of this poor kid.

You hand him the money and allow your eyes to wander around for a moment. The mechanical sounds the cash register makes are relaxing, and you take in the place you so dearly liked. You aren’t alone in the shop — in fact, it is quite busy for a Thursday afternoon. It is better this way, you think. The sensation of merging with the crowd and disappearing is welcoming. The boy hands over your change, and your phone starts ringing again.

The color of your face must have disappeared, by the look of the cashier’s face. “Can I do anything to-“

“Keep the change.” You smile once more, cutting him off. You turn around before he can finish his sentence and head to the farthest table you can spot. On your way, you wonder whether you look as pathetic on the outside as you feel on the inside. Without realizing it, you made a decision. The decision of avoiding Jun as if it could make anything better — as if it could even change anything by any means. You hated yourself for being scared, afraid of something you can’t exactly name. It couldn't be Jun. Why would it be? Apart from the occasional raised voice, he has never done anything to you. It's just a phone call, you tell yourself. If it goes downhill you can simply hang up, just like he did to you before. As simple as that. By the time you reach your seat, you're determined. This is foolish, you swear under your breath. Still, you hesitate to take the ringing phone out of your pocket — but end up doing it anyway.

The word Chris glowing on the screen feels like a cozy blanket being wrapped around your cold body. You must have audibly exhaled, perhaps muttered some thanks — whether to a higher being or to Chan himself, you're not sure — because you notice a few people turning their heads toward you . It’s okay, everybody! Everything is fine now!, you want to say. You clear your throat before answering it.

“Hey there.” Hopefully you don't sound so gloomy. You put in a double effort to sound as cheery as possible. Perhaps, if Chan believes you’re okay, you might as well just be.

“What’s wrong?” Straight to the point, you wince by the dry, clearly worried tone. Tough start.

You know Chan and the way he worries extensively about everything and everyone — not enough about himself, some would argue, but you'd slightly disagree. It’s simply part of his nature, you’ve learned. As much as you admired deeply his instinct to help, you did not want to be the object of such attention at that moment. He is a great friend – fuck, he is the best friend. In normal instances, you wouldn't hesitate before sharing your mind and soul with him. Right now, however, worrying him also meant being faced with too many questions, none of which you wanted to answer — perhaps not even knew the answer to. Not only that, you were also vaguely aware about the upcoming Stray Kids comeback in less than two months. Having witnessed the boys go through times like this firsthand before, the last thing you wanted was to add your name to the list of “Things That Keep Bang Chan Up At Night”. In reality, you knew he couldn't do anything about your situation regardless. Therefore, you conclude, worrying him would simply be counterproductive.

“Ouch. Not even a hello?” You play it off, fidgeting with your bag’s strap. You know you can't fool Chan. You shake your head to ward off the thoughts.

“Hello. What is wrong, Y/N?” He insists and you shift nervously in your chair. Your eyes travel to the cashier, who is talking to the barista, a boy as young as him, keeping them both in your line of sight. “Why didn’t you pick up the first time?” Chan questions.

“Is it that weird for me to not pick up immediately?” You joke quietly. You know Chan is not buying your act. “Actually. I think I should be the one asking you. Why do you sound so urgent? What is going on?” You deflect, but Chan doesn’t take the bait. He takes a deep breath, audibly through the speaker, and you feel bad for making things difficult for him — you really do. But you know it’s the best option. You will sort all the awkwardness in the future, hoping it won't be too late for it to have settled and stained your friendship irreversibly. You want to fill the silence, but your tongue feels heavy in your mouth.

Is it really the best option? What would be worse — telling Chan and burdening him with your own confusing problems, at least having him know what’s wrong, or avoiding talking about it? Certainly, he will sense that something is wrong, but at least he won’t feel bad for not helping if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.

But where to start?

Chris exhales audibly once more. “Nothing. I’m sorry.” He wants to insist, you can tell, but you’re thankful he’s holding back. “I just miss you.” He says it so softly the phone barely captures it. It hits you like a truck, and tears are rolling down your cheeks before you acknowledge them. The lump in your throat grows, and you're afraid your voice will betray you if you try to speak. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. When was the last time you came to the company?”

And it has been weeks - months, actually. You’re sure you can hear your own heart shattering like glass inside your chest. You can touch the sharp edges of the cracks and spot bruises that were supposed to have healed long ago but linger still. You miss him too. Not only Chan, but you you’re your routine with him and 3RACHA. You miss Changbin’s loud teasings and Han’s snuggles. You miss spending the hours on end holed up in a practice room with the eight of them, watching as they dance and sing and spin and fight and laugh, as if their own life depended on it. You were just a lucky spectator who has been very much avoiding the fact that you've been neglecting your most precious fortune. When did you become this mess of a person?

You’re bothering them. The male voice resonates in your mind and you close fiercely your eyes. You are not one of them, Y/N. You’re just being a nuisance all the time. Why can't you see it?

You try to stop it, but it's in vain. The memory memory comes back regardless.

“I never said I was one of them. That’s silly.” You replied as you entered the company’s elevator, followed by Jun. With your hands occupied holding plastic bags filled with snacks handpicked for each of the boys, you press the button with your elbow. “I just don’t think they see a problem with me coming over from time to time. It's not like I'm showing up every day." You glimpsed at your watch. You were early and Chris wouldn't be waiting for you. Perfect, you could surprise them. "You know, Channie was the one-“ He scoffed and you felt a puncture of guilt. “Chris.” You corrected yourself, not wanting to get into a fight because of this again. “Chris was the one who texted me asking if I was planning to come or not.” You tried to conceal the pride warming your chest with that statement.

“Maybe it’s because they just want to go home, but they can’t because there’s always the chance of you showing up out of nowhere. Have you ever thought about that?" His tone was harsh and took you by surprise. Actually… No. You have not thought about that, in fact. He inhaled deeply, massaging his temples in a sign of stress. “Of course not."

“I didn’t ask you to come.” You mumbled, fighting against the flush of shame on your cheeks. What if he's right? What if you've been bothering and annoying some of the most important people in your life this whole time, and they've just been putting up with you? Your heart sank at the thought.

“Babe.” Jun appeared in your line of sight and placed his hands on both your shoulders. "You know I'm only saying this because I love you, right? I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of those people, that’s all." You tried to avoid his gaze, but he gently turned your chin and held it. "Okay?”

His voice was soft, but clear. Too loud for your ears, perhaps. The soft tone did not make it easier to absorb the painful words. It took you a moment to register that the elevator's bell had run the doors had already opened. Your partner stepped back, taking some of the bags from your hands and turning to exit. Had you been paying attention, you would've noticed the cynical smile on his face as he turned toward the figure standing at the entrance. You only registered the other party after Jun's venomous tone. “If you excuse us.”

The shadow, meanwhile, did not excuse him. He didn't move not even an inch to the side, and you caught Jun trying to pass by them smoothly - but failing. The figure didn't show to care when he bumped into him, murmuring curses under his breath that were very much audible. You turned your head and found, as already expected, Lee Know standing there. Nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his jeans, you met his piercing dark gaze, already fixed on you - and you only. He paid as much attention to Jun as he'd do to a fleck of dust.

Although it had been about two months since you started dating Jun, all the boys had already met him. You held a habit of visiting them regularly at the company after being close to Chan for so long. Dating Jun hadn't stopped you from doing that, in fact, for some reason, he'd insist to come along. You tried questioning him if that came from a place of jealousy, but gave up after a few attempts. Mentioning Stray Kids was usually the motive for big arguments, which never led anywhere. Coming to the company to hang out obviously gave Jun as much amusement as he’d get from attending a seminar on top 10 best lore of teenager’s movies, and it was up to him how he spent his time. You actively did your best to dismiss his mean comments about the most insane things, be it the lightening of the place or the paint color they chose to paint this one specific wall or the supposed secretary’s rudeness. Every aspect of the building had something wrong with it that deserved a specific remark about it. Jun had learned not to make any unpleasant comments about - or even to - the boys. That was the only instance you would not let slide. In return, you learned to let him rant about how god damn cold or hot or crowded or empty the building was.

You never told Chan - or anyone, for that matter - about it. Practically any of the members, even Chris himself, had ever explicitly stated whether they liked or disliked Jun, and you never asked them directly. They maintained an awkwardly polite demeanor in Jun’s presence. At least they tried to keep it civilized, even when Jun was being difficult. Well, practically because there was one exception.

Lee Minho clearly disliked your boyfriend, and the feeling was mutual from day one. The first day Jun came along and you introduced him to your friends, they were all respectful and dealt fairly well with Jun’s special ironic remarks. Minho, on the other hand, had withdrawn into a state of heavy silence and deadly stares that alternated between you and Jun. You tried to ignore it, initially, not giving it too much thought. That was until Minho questioned, in a very audible and shameless, almost whiny voice, 'Ah, Hyung! When is this thing leaving? It’s so annoying.'

Before you could decide whether you’d argue with Minho or Jun, your short-tempered partner was already looking, outraged, for the source of the voice. You grabbed his arms and tried to drag him toward the door, saying goodbye to the boys with a hasty 'Yes, I’ll see you soon! Take care!' And, 'Let’s go, Jun, we have to—'

But as you left the room, both you and Jun saw that Minho had stood up and was leaning proudly against the wall. His deadly stare had followed you to the exit and you caught when the shadows on his face gave place to a malicious smile forming on his lips. He was looking at Jun, as he gave a tiny wave, somehow a sign of imminent violence. Just before you closed the door, you couldn't stop the shiver running down your spine when you noticed he was staring at you. You couldn't read what they said, but your stomach churned nonetheless.

Minho was the primary target of your boyfriend’s distaste ever since, and a common fight motive. Jun had always been the type to overthink, but it was ridiculously worse when it came to Lee Know - which was tragically hilarious. From all the eight, he had chosen Lee Minho to pick on? You'd try to argue, but his reply would always come to You can’t be this blind. It was maddening, always as if you were both arguing about two completely different things.

Thus, you weren't surprised to find Lee Know in front of you - that particular mocking tone coming from Jun in If you excuse us, would only be used with Minho. What did surprise you, however, was Minho himself. Standing as still as a statue in front of you, the man emanated annoyance and deep displeasure. His dark eyes exuded an anger you were certain you could touch. It made the air surrounding you heavier and colder. The chill reflected in your stomach as your face grew hotter. You couldn't look away, as if you were under a spell - and perhaps you were. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream, to run, or to hide. Maybe all three options. The knowledge you were the reason behind this anger was as clear as running fresh water, and it gave you goosebumps. Somehow, it wasn’t a question. You didn’t know what you could’ve done to trigger such fierce feelings from Lee Know. Although his feelings were as transparent as clean glass, you were unable to read his thoughts. Honestly, you weren’t sure you even wanted to.

How long it passed, you couldn’t tell. How long you stood there, pitiful and unable to move or look away, a mess of flushed face and glassy eyes, remains unclear to you to this day. What was very clear even at that time, however, was the shadow of disappointment you spot on the vastness of his deep dark eyes the moment before he turned around. He walked to the opposite direction of the hallway without saying a word. The abrupt withdraw left bad taste in your mouth. The spell was broken and you could breathe again, but the air was too icy in your lungs, making you wonder whether it'd be better to go back underwater - to be back under his gaze. That shadow of disappointment in his eyes persisted like an annoying fly you couldn’t shoo away, accompanied by a heavy weight in your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” The angry whisper suddenly reminded you that you weren’t alone. You might as well have been, though. The world could have ended and the universe collapsed at that very moment, and yet, staring into Lee Know’s eyes, you knew it wouldn’t make any difference. Under his gaze, you wouldn’t have noticed anyone but you and him. Your eyes followed the dark spot going down the corridor, until the moment he finally took a turn and disappeared completely. You collapsed against the elevator’s wall, finally breathing in as deep as you could until your lungs ache. Hold for one. Two. Three. Four. Exhale.

“Hello? What the fuck Y/N?” For a moment you considered yelling at Jun. You felt your nerves on the surface of your skin, and your heartbeat was distractingly loud in your head.

“I don’t know.” You breathed out, realizing that, in fact, you didn't have energy to fight. Your legs were unsteady and you realized your hands were shaking. The fog in your mind dissipated a little, and the pleas in your mind for Minho to come back died out. You tighten the grip on the left bags on your hands and push yourself forward. In automatic mode, you got out the elevator and headed to the first and closest safe place your mind could think of: 3RACHA’s Studio.

Perhaps you should have realized that you were heading in the same direction you had just seen him go, only a few minutes before. That you would, unavoidably, end up facing Lee Know again - although 3RACHA’s Studio wasn’t the only active room on that floor, that was the most obvious conclusion to arrive at. Maybe you knew it, unconsciously. Today, you wonder if you didn’t turn back that day simply because following Minho was like an instinct. You were confused, sad and scared, but still, going to Minho felt as natural as searching for a shelter during a storm. In this case, Minho was both the storm and the shelter. You should’ve turned your back and gone home, but you didn’t. Your mind was a hurricane of confusing feelings and images that, in the end, returned to the same name being chanted again and again. Lee Know Lee Know Lee Know.

Jun kept saying things you didn’t register. His voice was just a bit more than an agitated whisper, and you wished he would just shut up. Or even better, stayed at home. The doubts and fears resurfaced and you couldn’t shake them away. What if he was right? What if what had just happened was a statement of how much you annoyed and bothered this people?

Did they hate you that much?

As this last thought crossed your mind, a loud thud echoed, followed by a harsh voice. You froze, realizing it was emanating from 3RACHA’s Studio, and the door was half-open.

“Why is it still going on? It’s ridiculous!” It was… Minho? Could it be? You had never seen him raise his voice in anger - at least not seriously. It was unmistakably Minho, but the so intense anger was foreign to you. You couldn’t place it to the so coldhearted and detached person that Minho had always shown.

“YA! Don’t go around slamming things!” Changbin’s scolding came even louder, followed by mumbles you thought was Han's, but they were too muffled by the distance and walls to be sure.

They were fighting. They were very seriously fighting, and the realization sank in.

You should run. Run run run. Something was so clearly and deeply wrong. You should not be here. Now. Run.

Your members didn't follow your mind’s orders, and you caught yourself frozen in place.

You couldn’t move.

Your eyes snapped to your left, where Jun started moving. The sparkle of hope was extinguished when you realized he was moving forward, and not back to the elevator. He took one step closer to the door, and then another. Slowly, but surely trying to get a better listen. This isn't right.

“What do you want us to do, Minho?” Chan’s voice was also alien. The hasty, firm and contained anger just didn’t fit his patient personality. “Should we yell at her? That’s your solution?”

Her. Obviously this was about you. The word solution haunts you to this day, but even back then, the harm was starting to settle in. The need of a solution arises from the existence of a problem. You. In the end, you were the problem they were looking for a solution for.

“I can’t do this.” It was Lee Know again. Although his voice was much lower, it was as clear as it would’ve been if you were in that room with them. Pain and exhaustion overflowed from his words, and you felt their weight on your own face, in the form of tears that welled up and streamed down nonstop. His agony was overwhelming, and you felt as if your own heart was a broken dam. “I can’t, Hyung.” It was getting harder to understand his words - not only for the walls muffling them, but also for your own heartbeat was deafening. For a moment, you considered whether they could hear it too.

You sized your options. First, you could casually knock on the door and hand them the bags – somehow still in your hands –, then find an excuse to leave right after. Oh, sorry! I’m super busy, just wanted to give you guys these. No, it’s fine! Enjoy! It could work. Except the atmosphere inside was beyond intimidating. You would never be able to put on such an act that convinced them you weren't listening. The second option was simply leaving the bags in front of the door and leaving instantly. You shook your head, discarding the idea as soon as it happened. Leaving without saying a word would be a clear statement that you heard them, then felt bad and left. While it was precisely what had happened, you did not want them to know that. No, you couldn’t bear having Chan forcibly explaining to you in which ways you were a problem to the boys. The fact that he felt this way - or at least knew the others did - and had not talked to you prior stung at the back of your brain. Lastly, you could just leave. Dragging Jun and all the bags, you would leave no traces behind and, hopefully, Minho would think you didn’t even leave the elevator. Maybe he would think you had seen him and finally realized you were not welcome, then you had made the smartest choice – the one you should definitely have taken – and had gone straight home. He would ignore it and not mention it and-

Shouts suddenly pulled out from of your daze.

“GONE! OUT OF HERE! OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT!” Someone vociferated, followed by the sounds of a chair being dragged and steps. You grabbed Jun's hand and started pulling him after you before you even register doing the action. Desperately going back to the direction you both came from, you prayed to find an unlocked door before anyone heard your footsteps and plastic sounds. Not sure how, your pleas were quickly answered. In a moment of despair, trying to open an unknown door, you pushed both you and Jun inside the empty dark room. Shortly afyer you shut the door and locked it, hoping the thud noise went unnoticed. 

 “Are you crazy?” As soon as he started, you dropped all the plastic bags and covered his mouth with both hands. You closed your eyes – to avoid the tears that threatened to spill or to hear if anyone had left the studio and came after you, you didn’t know. Regardless, you couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat and a high buzz in your ears.

“Y/N?” You blink, coming back to the present. You open your eyes, and the barista is in front of your table holding your coffee. You notice his uncomfortable gaze and blush in embarrassment, murmuring thanks and apologies as he hands you the cup and leaves. He must’ve called you and you didn’t hear, giving him extra trouble to leave his spot and hand it to you personally.

It can also be due the tears flowing uninterruptedly on your face. Who knows.

You look at the black screen on your hand, laying on your lap now. You unlock your phone and blink to try to clean your vision from the tears, regardless, there is no new notifications. You can't recall the conversation with Chan exactly - if it could even be called a conversation. You don't know whether it was you or Chan who hung up, or even if you got to say goodbye. Had he noticed you crying?

You stare at the ceiling, doing your best to stop the tears. That was the last time you went to the company, and that was months ago. You miss Chan. You miss Changbin and Han. You miss spending the afternoon simply watching them working on music. You miss how they were loud and lively and intense. You miss how you felt when you were with them, and knowing that the feeling was only one sided broke your heart in ways you have no idea how to heal. You can’t shake the feeling of losing them - it seemed inevitable, and you wanted to scream.

You don't know why you act the way you do - running away since then. Evidently, it wouldn't magically make things right again. It wouldn't wipe out your memories of that day, or care less, for that matter. Some of the dearest people in your life thought of you as a problem to be solved, and it simply hurt. Minho’s anger and disdain were far too ingrained in your brain. You’ve been ignoring the acute pain that always followed remembering his exasperation and fury. Gone, he had shouted at the top of his lungs. He wanted you gone and couldn’t fathom why no one had talked to you yet. Honestly, it's hard for you to not question the same. 

Something very solid and real had broken inside you that day. Your attempt to pretend nothing happened was reinforced by the fact that, that day, Minho had, indeed, did what you hoped he would do. You texted Chan a little after, apologizing for not showing up, and he didn't say anything about you being there. Minho hadn’t told them about meeting you, and you felt relieved – maybe you could work things out by yourself, without having to make things even harder for them. You still didn't know how - but you planned on finding out.

The weeks that followed that incident were a messy blur. Thankfully, Jun didn’t mind your absentmindedness. It didn't bother him – interacting was an action that had to come from your end, and, since your mind was preoccupied with something else, he wouldn’t even try pulling you out from your thoughts. You couldn’t focus on anything else for too long, your thoughts would always, somehow, end on Minho’s resentment. On Minho's angry pleas to the winds for you to go away. On Minho's eyes. On Minho. Minho. It drove you mad. You felt bad and didn't want to admit you resented Chan a little. As you learned, asking Jun for advice proved to be completely unhelpful – in fact, it made things worse most of times. The situation was as clear as crystal to him: the boys were busy people, while you were someone desperately clinging to their attention, and, in the end, it saturated them. They were also not assholes - except that guy, he'd add - and that’s why they had been trying to give you hints. Then, you could arrive at the conclusion yourself, and there wouldn't be a need to go through the confrontational phase. Unfortunately, you hadn’t done your part and didn’t read between the lines, that's why you stood where you did. Why are you so upset about it? Fuck them! I never liked those guys anyway, and variations would usually put an end to the "conversation".

At work, however, you didn’t have the comfort of having your absentmindedness be dismissed. That was quickly noticeable not only by your clients and colleagues, but also by your manager. He was a patient man, but seemed to be in a permanent state of exhaustion and you guessed that's what capitalism did to a person. He never raised his voice and treated employees as human beings – an unprecedented event according to your own experience -, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the company as top priority. He tried to listen and help, but wouldn’t hesitate to fire someone if they messed up. The first time you were called to his office, he questioned, impassive, about the embarrassing decline in your productivity. He didn’t seem exactly worried - employees had ups and downs all the time. You tended to overwork yourself, and, although you weren't the employee of the month, you knew you did a good job overall - so did your superior. “It’s just proceeding, you know?”

The downs persisted, unfortunately, and two weeks later you were called again. This time, his approach was more assertive and concerned.

“You can’t stay like this, Y/N.” He turned the monitor on his desk to face you, showing the numbers you had missed the last 15 days. “What is going on?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You bowed deeply one more time, having no explanations or justifications for your bad performance. You couldn’t tell your manager you had your confidence undermined, that you were questioning every single act and interaction you had. You couldn’t tell your superior how deeply you missed your friends, missed love and hugs and affection and care. You missed yourself. You couldn’t tell him about the constant presence in your head that kept saying you were doing everything wrong. Everything. All your achievements, be they your job or your relationships - all of them were product of luck and you clearly weren’t good enough to keep them. Chan instantly came to mind. Even though he was texting you regularly, you couldn't get rid of the overwhelming sadness gripping your neck and kept your replies short. Obviously he had noticed, but respected your space - he stopped asking what was wrong after the first week. Knowing him, it was good that he didn’t know where you live, and that his own job kept him busy through day and night, or else you were certain he would’ve shown up at your door already. “It’s all my fault and I am deeply sorry I am bringing losses to the company and-"

“Y/N.” Your manager cut you, “When was the last time you slept?”

Confused, you blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That answers it. You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine.” You raised your hands in surrender. “I promise, I don’t need to-“

“You can be a lot of things, Y/N. Sleep-deprived. Careless. Stressful. Anything but fine.” You flinched on the bluntness.

“Don’t you mean stressed?” You mumbled, embarrassed, trying to play off a joke.

“No, I said what I meant. Stressful. I cannot go on even for one more day if I look at my window one more time and see you staring blankly at your hands for God knows how long.” Before you could protest, he stopped you again. “I’m serious. I can’t afford the trouble of having an employee passing out because of lack of sleep. Take the rest of the day off and go to the hospital to get checked up. Come back tomorrow with the results in hand stating you are not dying or turning into a damn zombie.”

Left with no choice, you headed to the hospital. The feeling of guilt lingered in your chest a little, wondering if the insomniac nights were obvious in the dark bags under your eyes, if your anxiety was that evident in your eyes, words and walking.

You expected your health to be in check. You were certain modern medicine wasn’t capable of curing broken hearts yet – unfortunately. In worst case scenario, you’d probably walk out with a prescription to help you sleep and that’d be all. You took a deep breath before going in.

“Y/N?!”

Your body reacted before your mind and your eyes snapped in the direction of the source – Chris. He was already walking toward you, emerging from inside the huge building you had been staring at. You wondered if you were finally at the stage of hallucinations, and perhaps it was good it was happening next to a hospital - but this thought soon evaporated. Before you registered your own actions, you were also walking toward him, falling into the so missed and familiar hug your heart ached for.

It was the first time meeting Chan in almost a month. Usually, it wouldn’t have been a big thing, but it was for you. Your heart had been bleeding out for the past four weeks, and you hadn’t found a way to stop the pain. Chris was instant medicine, one that you had been actively depriving yourself of. You allowed yourself to be selfish for a moment. It was okay if you disturbed them and if you were an overall headache to them. In that moment, though, it was just you and Chris. You let yourself to believe that the love and appreciation you received from him were as real as they felt.

“Hi.” You murmured against his chest, inhaling his familiar perfume. His body vibrated with a chuckle, backing off just enough to look you in the eyes.

It was short, but you saw when the fun and joyful semblance turned into a concerned expression. You thought you sensed Chan becoming rigid, stiffening the hold on your shoulders just a little, as if you could run away if he let you. You remembered how you awfully sick and tired you might look. “How are yo-“

“I’m fine.” You cut off him, not being able to hold back a smile. “Do I look that terrible?”

He shifted, trying to cover up for his shameless stare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Your smile widened; it was so easy to mess with him. “I’m just joking. I’m really fine, though.”

He glanced at you suspiciously. You could’ve well said you won the Olympics, and a quick look at you was enough to say that both of those things – being fine and winning the Olympics – were equally unlikely. And you didn’t account for the fact he had caught you standing in front of a hospital, just about to go in. Then it clicked, a hospital he just walked out of.

“Wait, what were you doing there? Are you okay?” It was your time to shamelessly look for wounds and signs that could hint if there was anything wrong with Chris. You noticed his clothes – shorts and a black long-sleeve shirt, it’s not something he’d normally wear outside, and rather stay inside working or even practicing.

He laughed shortly. “I am fine. Jeongin had an accident during practice and-“

“Jeongin had an accident?” Your voice was high pitched. Your eyes shifted to the entrance, past Chan, and you tensed, afraid you could see a badly hurt I.N.

“He is fine, Y/N.” He put his hand on the top of your head and turned it back to him. Looking into his eyes, you searched but found no traces of lying. Indeed, Chan looked quite chill, given the circumstances. “We feared he had a strained ligament or something, but he’s fine. I'll still hurt for the next few days, for sure. But he'll survive."

You breathed out in relief. “That’s great.” The story also explained his clothes.

Chan smiled at your concern. “Actually, they should be here at any minute now.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“They?” You looked at him puzzled, but as if waiting for its cue, a loud calling Hyung! drew his attention.

When he turned around, keeping one hand gently on your elbow, he stepped aside and gave you a clear vision of the hospital's entrance.

Your heart caught in your throat. It wasn’t the imagery of an injured Jeongin, who limped just a little toward you and Chan, using a crutch to support his body. Oblivious, you didn’t even notice the way he was happily surprised to see you after so long, his dimples showing even after he had just left the hospital.

No. In all honesty, you had barely registered Jeongin’s presence at all at first. Instead, your eyes met with the figure following him, just slightly behind. The simplicity of the large white shirt and gray sweatpants would have made anyone else look comfortable, casual at most – but Lee Know wasn’t just anyone else. He wasn’t just comfortable or casual. He was so goddamn attractive - he was hot, you dared. His dark hair was even longer than it was the month prior, falling a little on his eyes depending on the movement of his face, and you had the urge to place a lock behind his ear.

He stopped walking suddenly, his gaze locking with yours. In that moment you knew the word that best described Minho: breathtaking – quite literally.

It lasted for a moment. Chan called for I.N and Minho started walking in your direction. Your eyes instantly deviated from his, and you forced yourself to focus on the maknae, rather than the burning stare coming from Minho or the blood flow running in your ears.

“Y/N!” Jeongin smile was contagious.

“Hey there, baby bread! How are you feeling?” You wanted to hug him, but you were unsure about his injuries, so you chose to stick with the smiling. Lee Know caught up to you all and placed himself by Jeongin's side.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious.” You saw him blushing. “This thing helps," he jiggled the crutch, "but it makes it seem way worse than it actually is. Ice will do just fine.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Innie”. You smiled at him, and he smiled back. Keeping your hands in front of your body, highly conscious - conscious of your posture, choice of clothes, and greasy hair. You felt like a prey being watched by a predator – but choosing to avoid the predator’s eyes instead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Although Minho’s voice didn’t carry any resentment or accusation, you still winced. The sensation was like having a burnt hand and then someone grabbing it and placing it under a stream of cold water for relief. Yes, the relief would come right after, but first came the moment of shock and instinct to move away, before realizing how much you needed the cold water (his voice?) to relieve the pain of your burnt hand (your heart?).

“Come on, Lino. That’s not how you greet people.” Chan began, glancing at you apologetically. Unable to ignore him any longer, you let your eyes shift towards him.

His expression was a mystery, as hard as if it were sculpted in marble. Minho's face revealed no emotions, nor did his words. The bluntness could be mistaken by indifference, still his gaze was intense, making it hard to breathe and sending chills down your spine.

“Why would anything be wrong?” You questioned. Your voice somehow didn’t shake, and you hope you didn’t look as affected as you felt.

“Because I have eyes.” You felt your face growing hotter.  “And because you are in front of a hospital. What is wrong?” A sparkle of defiance lit in your chest – you owed him nothing. In fact, last time you checked, Lee Minho had made it very clear he did not want to see you.

“That’s not nice, Minho.” Chan scolded him, more fiercely this time.

“No, Chan.” You began, smiling warmly at Chris. He had so much on his shoulders already, you wouldn’t let Minho become another topic of trouble for him. “I’m fine, Minho. I’m here only to get checked up. Routine, that’s all.” You sustained his gaze with one of your own, hands held in fist so tight you’d later find red marks on your palms.

Minho raised a brow, almost mocking your poor explanation. The maknae spoke before him, “Are you sure you are well, Y/N?” The gentleness appeased your heart.

“You have to be joking.” Lee Know scoffed, apparently to himself but audibly to all of you. He was infuriating, daring to demand answers he had absolutely no right over! Why was he pressing on this? Why did it matter, anyway? Before you launched on him, Chan spoke.

“Okay! We’re done here.” He felt the weird energy between you two and wanted to prevent a war. “The driver is waiting for us, we need to go back. I.N, can you walk by yourself?”

“Yes, Hyung.” The maknae responded, particularly confused for the sudden shift but not daring to ask any questions.

Chan clapped “Okay, great. Minho, let’s-“

“I’m staying.” Minho said simply, placing himself by your side. Both you and Chan turned your heads to him abruptly.

“You are what?” You stepped away from him in disbelief. Your voice was a little higher than you wished. His face remained impassive, but there was something in his eyes that you quite put your finger on. “No, you are not.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not gonna do anything to you.” He exasperated.

You tried to sense his motives, but it made so little sense that it was hard to put some logic into it. Did he get some twisted pleasure from upsetting you? It could be. But again, not a month had passed after the incident at the company. Back then, the sight of you had triggered as far as rage in him. But even now, he didn't look exactly the type of person that was getting any satisfaction from being in your presence.

Chan’s tone was serious. “Minho,” His eyes left yours and shifted to the oldest, changing his demeanor in a bit. His posture was rigid, but his gaze carried a determined defiance. “What is going on?”

Minho pointed at you without adverting his eyes from Chan. You gasped angrily, about to protest, but he didn’t give you the space. “She is going on, hyung. Look at her. If not for the obvious signs of being ill, then for the fact she’s missing work to come to the hospital.”

You argued. “I’m missing work because my boss told me to!"

“Which only proves my point.” He continued, letting his hand fall right by his side. “Something is so obviously wrong that it was up to her boss to step in, or else I doubt she’d come by herself.”

Ouch. “Listen." You interrupted. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you’re making it way bigger than it actually is. I am okay and I most definitely do not need your help.” You glanced at Chris, but his attention was still directed to Minho. You could see the gears working in his head, but you decided it was time to leave. “It was great seeing you guys. I mean it. But I really don't have time for this. If you excuse me.” You turned your back and tried to leave, but in vain. Not even two steps later did a hand wrap around one of your wrists. Minho’s hold was gentle, but firm, and you tried to hide de burning in your cheeks. “YA!”

He pulled you closer than you were before, and his voice was deeper when he spoke. “How long has it been since you last saw your boyfriend?” You were dizzy. The sudden shift in subject, accompanied by the warmth Minho's hand transmitted to your wrist and the disdain he had put into the word 'boyfriend,' clouded your thinking.

“Jun?” You blinked, trying to disperse the fog, but the scent of his perfume was inebriating. Minho was too close. “I saw him yesterday.”

“You saw him yesterday?” Minho’s voice had a hint of disbelief, and he searched for lies in your eyes. You saw him becoming tense, and you prepared to feel his grip tightening, but the hold on your wrist remained the same. “Are you sure?”

“What?! Of course I am sure! What kind of question is that?” Angrily, you pulled your wrist away from his grasp. He let you, keeping his stare a little longer. “What is wrong with you?!” You turned your eyes to Chris, begging a way out of this insanity. You caught I.N behind him, almost as uncomfortable with the scene as you were. Chan sustained Minho’s gaze for a moment, and your eyes darted between the two of them. No words were spoken, but obviously they weren't needed. The silent conversation through telepathy or whatever the sorcery clearly didn't include you.

After what seemed like forever, Chan sighed, defeated. “Okay. Y/N," he turned to you. "do you mind if he accompanies you?”

“What?! This is madness! Of course I mind. I’m not a child!” You begged.

“It’s not that, sweetheart.” He got closer and you let him when he pulled you to a hug. “We’re just worried about you. We all know you’re very much capable of taking care of yourself.” He added the last phrase when he felt you were about to protest. “We just want to make sure you are okay and can go home safely afterwards.”

“I can do this by myself.” You mumbled.

“I know, I know. But Lee Know can’t. He won’t be able to rest if he doesn’t make sure you’re safe and sound.” He kissed your forehead. “And my mind will also be at ease if I know you’re with him.”

After a moment, you sighed. “Fine.” You accepted reluctantly, stepping away as Chan positioned himself next to the waiting maknae.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re amazing. Lemme know how things go, yea?” Chan’s warm smile was impossible to be angry about. You nodded with your head and waved a tiny goodbye to I.N and watched them walk away.

Lee Know, didn't move an inch throughout the entire time.  When you turned to him, somehow, he seemed relaxed. Even his eyes had changed. Although they still carried a wince of something unknown - similar to concern but deeper in a way -, they were calmer. They were almost… gentle. It could’ve made you mad. He had made a huge thing out of nothing, stressed both you and Chris, and now dared to look at you with tenderness in his eyes. You exhaled, knowing it'd be pointless to yell at him. You were exhausted and had no energy spared to bicker. His motives was still undisclosed, but perhaps they weren’t important right now. You decided that your main task was to get whatever prescription as easily as possible, and then have a doctor to state you were not about to collapse. Then, not only would it solve the matter with your boss, but also it meant you would finally get rid of the man in front of you.

Okay, that sounds like a plan.

“Shall we?” Minho reached out his hand with an overly soft voice. You rolled your eyes.

"Weirdo." You cursed under your breath and avoided his hand, heading, finally, straight to the entrance. You did take note of the small chuckle he let out, and how he smoothly followed you behind.

[breezybangtanbebe]

❤️Kihyun : The Wholesome Boyfriend❤️

A/N: this one is little different from the others as far as structure because I originally intended for it to be a part of my AMBW Monsta X series that I was cooking up, but its still within the theme of the Boyfriend series. It isnt set in SK. I kinda had a vision of him having a foreign girlfriend because even though he is pretty conservative, I wouldn't put it past him to date outside of SK or his race if the connection is strong. Plus this is fiction anyway so if its not for you, its not FOR YOU...hell...anywho. This one starts out kinda fluffy with sexual tension. Kihyun falling in love with a thick queen with locs and a whole lotta ass. Not that thats relevent🌚 or is it😏

KihyunxOC named Chloe🥰 (yes..its the Chloe youre probably thinking lol i love her with him) fluff, slow burn but smut definitely occurs.

🎶🎧: Butterflies by Michael Jackson

9.6k words

<The Other Boyfriends >

Emotionally

If there was anyone in Monsta X that would be the ultimate 'bring him home to mama', very 'husband coded' type, it's Kihyun.

Emotionally, he's an open book. Will pursue you and make his interest known early on with clear intentions. He's the type to properly court you. Ask you out on a date, pick you up and take you home. Open doors and lay the napkin in your lap. Bring you food randomly. He's not shy and would absolutely kiss you on the first date but only if you want him to.

And you'll want to.🌚

Chloe's door opened abruptly and Kihyun blinked in surprise when their eyes met.

She stood in the doorway of her place, bare-faced and barefooted, with her mane of brown and honey blonde locs piled high on her head. The loose curls at their ends fell from the messy bun in spirals and kissed her cheekbones and nape in ways Kihyun wished he could, and her gaze lights up with fondness at him through her glasses.

"Hey" she chimes and Kihyun thaws instantly, remembering that he'd probably been staring like a doof.

"Hey.." he exhales.

His gaze dropped to the way her leggings hugged her shapely legs, her soft tummy just barely visible in her over sized cropped college tee.

Kihyun had laid eyes on her countless times in the various moments they shared.

From the first time he saw her in class.

Then later under her favorite tree out on the courtyard.

To the day he approached her in the campus book store.

Study meet ups had become customary since they now shared a few courses, but Kihyun would have found any reason to be in her presence.

"You brought food?" Chloe's chipper tone distracted Kihyun from his daze and he glances down at the forgotten white plastic bag dangling from his fingers.

"Oh...Yeah. I figured we'd get hungry at some point. It's from that vegan place you said you liked." He nods and her dimpled smile strikes him straight through the chest in an explosion of flutters that by now he couldn't suppress.

"You remembered?" Chloe beams and Kihyun rolls his eyes at her teasing tone.

"You talk about them enough. It'd be sad if I didn't. You gonna let me in or what?" He chuckles as he steps forward. He pauses with his foot over the threshold when Chloe puts her hand on his chest.

"You gonna be nice or what?" She looks up at him with her version of a playful mean mug, but all Kihyun could ever do was stare.

Her eyes.

Her lips.

The little shine at the rounded tip of her small nose.

He blinks, remembering to breathe as he shrugged.

"Im always nice. I brought you food didn't I?." He smiles and with a smirk and roll of her eyes, Chloe nudges Kihyun's chest and turns on her heels to grant him access to her humble abode.

Chloe's apartment felt like stepping into an earthy girl's aesthetic thread on pinterest. Cream colored couches and over darkwood floors, burnt sienna and green accents all around the room.

The air always held a combination of the same scents.

Jasmine incense.

Coconut and shea.

Whatever perfume she wore to class that had Kihyun distracted through out the entire lecture when he decided to sit closer to the board. Forgetting his glasses at his dorm seemed more like fate than inconvenience since it put him a row in front of where Chloe always sat.

The fuzzy cream carpet welcomed Kihyun's feet after they were freed from his Nikes at the door.

He loved it here.

Some hours had passed and two chapters worth of information had been effectively crammed into their brains.

They ate everything, empty food containers littering her small coffee table being the aftermath and the afternoon rolled into the evening seamlessly.

Chloe sat across from Kihyun on her little sofa with her legs tucked under her, gazing at him intently and laughing with him as he recounted something embarrassing that happened in his childhood.

Hanging onto every word with a soft smile idling on her lips the more he spoke. Something about his voice always calmed her and she was sure she could listen to him talk another few hours if it weren't getting later.

"Oh shit, what time is it?" Kihyun pauses his story to ask. Before he could pull out his phone, Chloe had already tapped her screen.

"Almost 7." She says with a confused scowl. She turns to look out of her balcony window at the darkened skies and glittering city lights beyond the glass.

"Damn..it feels like 9 or something." Kihyun mutters and Chloe nods in agreement.

"Daylight savings.." she adds and Kihyun hums in understanding but says nothing else.

That comfy silence fell over them then.

With nothing more to study, no more food too eat and no excuse to stick around any longer.

"Well..I guess I should head out. Since its so dark.." Kihyun begins, albeit reluctantly, and Chloe sits up as he moved.

"You don't have to." She says, pausing mid-sentence to glance down at the way her hand rested over his. It had to have been out of reflex because she had no idea she'd reached out for him until the warmth of his hand brushed her palm.

Kihyun was staring at them too, his lips parting to allow the tip of his tongue to wet the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah?" He lifts his brow. He never meant to look at Chloe the way he was looking at her now. The look where his eyes danced between hers, then falling to her glossed lips.

Chloe blushes under his gaze, turning her head away with faint smirk playing on them now.

"Well..yeah. I-I don't mind. I like it when you're here.." she admits bashfully.

Kihyun doesn't say anything at first since he's admittedly surprised at her words. He knew Chloe liked him enough to be around him so much but usually it was with some excuse. To study. To eat. To try some new place out with him there as her emotional support companion since she didn't like eating alone in public.

But now, with their studying done and food digesting, there were no distractions from what they had in front of each other.

"Unless you have other plans..." she backpedals a hitch, sounding almost as nervous as he felt. Kihyun shakes his head immediately.

"When do I ever have other plans Chloe?" He chuckles and she shrugs.

"I don't know...it's the weekend. You might have somewhere you wanna be or..someone else to be with."

With that, a shift commenced between them. There had always been an unspoken thing between them and Kihyun felt like too much of a coward to pursue it. Which was very unlike him considering he was generally a very confident man.

But now, with the object of his desire basically giving him the green light to venture forward.

"Well, Kinda.." he pauses, allowing his hand to turn over so that his fingers could interlock with hers tentatively. Chloe follows his gentle lead, staying put when Kihyun slowly closed the distance between them on the couch.

"Im sort of there already. So..if you want me here. Im here..."

Chloe blinks up at him, her breathing visible in the steady rise and fall of her chest. Kihyun noticed it, feeling himself drawing closer.

He's timid in his approach but his eyes are sharp and intent on her lips as his leans into her. Immediately her hand comes up to rest on his jaw as they their mouths greeted eachother with slow and savored pecks.

Kihyun hums from deep in his throat as he inhaled the sweetness of her scent.

Her hair.

Her skin.

Her excitement.

Her arousal.

Potent and sweet.

Inviting and tantalizing.

He wanted nothing more than to reach down and push his hand past the barrier of her leggings to explore her body further.

But before his carnal impulses could take over, he stops.

Her eyes flutter open as the warmth of his closeness fades when he pulls away. She frowns.

"What? Whats wrong.." she whispers and Kihyun exhales a chuckle as he shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing hers swiftly.

"Nothing...I just.." he pauses to swallow, not even sure of what he wanted or needed to say. But the feeling of her lips not pressed against his felt more wrong than the direction of thoughts. So without thinking any further, Kihyun dives back in to smother her plush lips with his selfishly, easing her back to lay beneath him on the couch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's so smart so naturally, intellect attracts him. He loves deep conversations and hearing your stance on different topics. He loves a good debate and he's one to play devil's advocate so be prepared for that. He loves making you laugh with his overconfidence, never shying away from doing or saying something a little silly to make you smile.

Kihyun will define the relationship very fast so you never have to wonder what you are. He might have been a player when he was younger but now, he doesn't have much patience for games.

He's big on communication so he will check in with you consistently, even if he's busier than normal. He has an old soul so sometimes, you may feel fathered by him when he gives advice but its out of love. He just want the best outcomes for you, so try not to get to bothered by his unsolicited guidence sometimes. Especially of its money related. Mans is frugal as F° (see what I did there 🌚)

Very protective of you and will fight so, don't put him in so many positions where he'll have to. That'll piss him off 😂

He is absolutely the type to say I love you first. Because fuck it, why not?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was raining.

Chloes apartment took on the light grey tone of the sky as the two of them enjoy the gentle pitter patter of the storm against the window pane. Kihyun was watching something on TV with Chloe's little feet resting in his lap while cozied up with a book on the other side of the couch.

He steals a look at her from the corner of his eye to admire her soft features as she focused on the printed text, her crown of locs wrapped in a patterned silk scarf that matched the sky.

She was so gorgeous to him, especially like this when she felt she looked underwhelming.

"I love you." He blurts out as if the thought itself escaped him on its own mind. She glances up from her book curiously, her expression blanketed with mild shock as she pulled the ear bud from beneath her hair.

"Hmm?" She hums curiously and the softeness in her eyes doesnt make it easier for Kihyun's galloping heart to regulate enough for him to repeat himself.

It had been about a month or so since he'd first kissed her, and their time spent together was comprised of mostly that when they weren't supposed to be studying or watching some movie that would ultimately become background noise. It was very high school of them but Kihyun enjoyed it. He valued her beyond what his body wanted.

He genuinely loved her.

The words werent hard to say.

He'd been saying them to her for weeks.

In every lingering kiss when he left her apartment.

In every savored touch when he held her close to him.

In every thoughtless act he did for her to help in any way he knew he could.

His love for her was obvious.

But it didn't feel as known until she could hear it from his mouth.

For a moment Kihyun doesnt say anything though and he just stares into her soft umber toned irises.

What if its too soon?

What if she doesnt feel the same way?

What if all this time Kihyun had deluded himself into thinking a woman as cool, beautiful, sexy, smart, and genuine as she could ever love him back?

His jaw sagged under the weight of what he was about to say and with caution thrown completely to the wind....

"Nothing's wrong. I...I just love you."

Kihyun called bullshit on any claims that its impossible to tell when a black person was blushing. Because the moment his words hit her, the apples of her cheeks brightened with her smile and the flushed tone made Kihyun want to reach across over her body to brush his thumb over her face.

"Really?"

Kihyun nods immediatly and he smiles at the squeak in her voice.

"Yeah. Like..alot." He adds and he blushes at how juvenile he probably sounded.

But she doesn't care.

"Good." Chloe quips nonchalantly, moving to put her Airpod back in place. Not expecting her to be so passive about his confession, Kihyun scoffs humorously.

"Good?" He laughs and Chloe smirks up at him with nod.

"Yeah...I was beginning to worry it was just me feeling this way over here." She says all too casually.

Kihyun huffs, shaking his head in amazement before turning his body towards her while still cradling her dainty feet in his lap.

"You were worried?" He tilts his head. Chloe looks at him over her book again with timid eyes.

"A little. Was starting to think you only liked me for my lips.." she half jokes, prompting Kihyun to roll his eyes.

Things go quiet again, apart from the low volume mumbling from the TV and the distant sound of thunder outside. Amidst it all, Kihyun never takes his eyes off of Chloe. Even after she resumed her attention to her book.

Recalling her words, Kihyun glances down at her feet and runs his finger tips over her soft skin,

"So....you love me too?" He lifts his brows, still looking at Chloe's nude pink painted toes when she regards him.

Her heart flutters at the vulnerability in his voice as well as the adorable interest he showed in her pedicure.

She sighs.

"Yes, Kihyun. I love you too. Duh..." she crinkles her nose in mock disgust, nudging him with her foot before immediately going back to reading with a lighter shade of happiness and contentment on her face

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Physically:

Kihyun keeps it player. He doesnt have to be all over you in public and nor does he have anything to prove. The most he'll do is hold your hand of course or kiss your lips in greeting or to say goodbye. Otherwise hes very reserved and polite. Especially when other people are around. If youre the type to show alot of affection in front of family or friends, Kihyun would be prone to some mild embarrassment. Flushed cheeks and red ears. Despite him being really chill and composed, I can see him being extremely nervous to meet your family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I look ok?"

He'd asked her that for the third time since leaving the hotel and it was endearing that he cared so much.

Standing on Chloe's mother's porch, the music could be heard inside just as loud as the sound of Kihyun's heart beating in his ears.

He was so nervous. It had been about four months since he and Chloe made things official and despite her family already knowing of him as her friend, it felt different being around them now.

Chloe looks over at him in his dark crewneck sweater, his chesnut brown fringe peaking beneath his hat.

"You look fine for the bazillionth time. I told you this is a casual dinner. No one is dressed up. My mama doesn't care about what you have on anyway. She already loves you."

"Maybe. I still want to make a good impression on the rest of your family though. If I knew everyone would be here I would have packed more.."

"You worried for nothing Ki." She shakes her head and turns away just as the door opens,and a beam of bright warm light from inside the house covers them.

"Hey!! Look whose here!" Halle, Chloe's sister exclaims. The sisters engage in an exchange of excited squeals and giggles as they hug, leaving Kihyun standing by to watch them awkwardly.

Pulling back, Halle acknowledged him with a much less animated hug but its warmth is felt as she greeted him.

"Hey Kihyun! Nice shirt..." she compliments him when stepping back.

"Oh? Uh...Thanks Halle.." he mutters with a shy smirk, looking down at his crewneck as if he wasnt just fussing over it.

Chloe shoots him a satisfactory look that he resists rolling his eyes at.

"Mmhmm..We've been waiting on you two..get in here!" The exhuberent sister beams, waving the awaited couple into the warm family home enthusiastically.

Since dating her, Chloe had described the house she and her siblings grew up in back in Georgia as modest and homely but what Kihyun stepped into was far from that.

Hell, even from the car he was in awe of the vast lawn, high white pillars and contemporary architecture.

The foyer leads them down a hallway thats lined with countless family photos telling the story of a tight knit family that captured every moment they could immortalize. Chloe's dance recital as a toddler. She and her sister at Disney world as children. An array of Her senior and graduation photos.

It was like Kihyun was given a glimpse of the past as well as his possible future if he and Chloe stayed together.

"The food is almost done. Daddy is taking the last bits of meat off the grill now.." Halle says to Chloe, the two of them talking fast amongst each other while Kihyun distracted himself with the wall of photographs on their way to the living room.

As if to confirm her claim, the smell of BBQ wafted thickly through the house, hitting Kihyun and his appetite in the face.

Just as they passed the kitchen doorway, a woman shrieks with happiness before scurrying after Kihyun and Chloe.

Both of them turn just in time to be greeted by Chloe's bright eye'd mother

"Oooh there's my favorite..."she opened her arms. For a moment Chloe thought she was referring to her, at least until it was clear where her affections were being aimed.

Kihyun blushed with his infectious smile as he's trapped in a warm hug, he and Mrs.Bailey's bodies swaying as if they were long lost family being reunited at last.

"I thought yall would never get here. How was your flight?" she asked him all while suffocating him with her embrace.

"It was ok..." he chuckles, hugging her back.

"Long.." Chloe mutters from beside him under her breath and Kihyun chuckles. If she thinks the trip from California to Georgia is long , that flight to Seoul he managed once a year would be an interesting experience for her.

Chloe is able to lock eyes with Kihyun over her mother's head, mouthing a sly 'I told you so' to him in reference to her mother's prolonged embrace. He rolls his eyes before pulling away , smiling down at her warmly.

As dramatic her greeting may have seemed to anyone else, Chloe's mother was genuinely happy to see her daughter here with Kihyun. Especially after the devastating break up she'd endured last year. It was refreshing to see her with someone who was as doting and "clean cut" as Kihyun, even if he was far from the type of men she typically dated.

It warmed Kihyun's heart and eased his anxiety to know he was so welcomed.

And loved.

"Well good. You dont know how glad I am you were finally able to make it out here. Both of you..Hey baby.." Chloe's mother reached for her finally and hugged her.

As he did before, Kihyun stepped back to allow them their moment.

Mrs.Bailey pulls back to look at Chloe, rubbing a dainty finger over the soft swoop of her baby hairs as she observed her freshly retwisted locs.

"You look good. Happy.." she notes softly and Chloe shares a quick look with Kihyun before nodding, the same sentiments clear in his warm gaze.

"I am, Mama." She smiles.

"I am." She repeats, this time holding her hand out for Kihyun to take. Their fingers interlock in the way they always did and Kihyun steps up to join his girl with her mother.

"Im glad to hear it baby. So, tell me Kihyun...You do like BBQ and soul food right? I know this child of mine probably has you eating kale and imitation meat out there in Cali but thats just because you like her right?"

Chloe's eyes nearly pop out of her head at the question, making Kihyun's face light up with laughter.

"I love BBQ and soul food Mrs.Bailey..." he chuckles softly, avoiding Chloe's glare.

"Aht aht..Courtney, Mama, or mom. I already told you this..."

"Thank you..Mom.." he smirks, feeling a little embarrassed to speak so informally despite him feeling at home in her presence.

She reaches up to cup Kihyun's cheek, mirroring the joy in her eyes before nodding.

"Very good. Now come in here and meet everybody." she turns on her heels and walks briskly up the hallway and into the living room, where Chloe could already hear her cousins and siblings chattering loudly amidst the music.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In private, he grabby as hell.

Grabs you by the neck for kisses. Grabs you by the wrist and pulls you to him playfully when you try to walk away after teasing him.

While I don't classify him as an ass man overall, if you have a nice one, he becomes one.🫠 But he's sneaky about it. He'll always be staring at, watching you walk away and smacking it hard  when you pass him just for fun. Overall a very handsy guy. He wont admit to enjoying being cuddled but he will always find reasons to touch you. In bed of around the house in general, he likes you either in his lap of nuzzled up to him with your head tucked under his arm and your thigh hiked up over his pelvis.

Oh yea, and he sleeps nakey. So skin to skin for the win🌚

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I dont think theres anything I hate more in this world than a musty ass avocado..."

Kihyun sputters mid sip of his drink at the random outburst and turns to find her trudging towards him from the kitchen with a scowl.

"A musty what?" He choked, laughing at Chloe's diction.

She huffs childishly as she met him at the couch, plopping down on the carpet and scooting back to settle between Kihyun's legs. Back in California after spending a holiday weekend with Atlanta, Kihyun and Chloe seemed to become closer in their relationship. If that were even possible. Instead of spending most of his time at his place, he was at hers. Cooking for her. Helping her clean and her things because he just found it way more therapeutic than dealing with his own.

She had a plate in hand as she got cozy on the carpet and Kihyun peers over her head to see what all the fuss was about. A mushy brownish green smear of avocado colored her large slice of multi grain bread in her lap. The color was a tab bit off putting and Kihyun grimaced from behind her.

"Eugh..." he chuckled and Chloe whimpers.

"Its not funny..I just bought them yesterday and at the store they were most definitely not ripe. I get them home and now theyre over ripe and musty. Now my toast is ruined..."

Kihyun leaned back to take another sip from his cup before setting it down, his free hands now pulling at the elastic band that held Chloe's loc's back in a low ponytail. They fall free and splay out over her shoulders, and Kihyun immediately begins gathering them in his hands.

"So don't eat it..."he mutters distractedly as he began finger combing through her coiled tresses, pausing to massage her scalp occasionally.

Chloe sighs at the feeling of his gentle touch in her hair before mindlessly lifting the slice of avocado toast to her lips.

"But I don't wanna waste it. Ugh..." she nearly gags after taking bite and Kihyun reaches around her to knock the toast from her hand so that it drops back onto the plate.

"Surely you can spare one slice of bread and a musty avocado for your stomach and sanity's sake. Just order something and I'll pay. Im hungry too."

He goes back to playing in her hair, something that he'd recent taken a liking to after one night of cuddling. He loved the texture and the softness of her hair, as well as the smell. It was completely different from what he'd been used to, having mostly been with women with naturally straight hair. It fascinated it him how Chloe's hair routine differed from theirs and he often wanted to be a part of it out of curiosity and another way to show her affection.

"Fine...and don't be snatching food from me." She grumbles and Kihyun snorts.

"I saved your life. Shut up..."

Chloe then busies herself with scrolling on her phone while Kihyun entertained himself in her hair. She'd occasionally show him something amusing on her timeline and they'd laugh or discuss random topics as time creeped on.

"I want you to meet my parents." He says after being quiet for a while, casually rolling the top section of her hair into a cute little imperfect top knot and securing it with her hair tie.

Pausing mid-scroll, Chloe goes tense.

"Your parents?"

"Yeah. I was planning on making a trip over there soon. After finals and stuff of course. They ask about you and wonder when theyll meet you so...why not." Kihyun shrugs, his finger combing much lazier now than it was minutes ago and at her silence, his hands goes still.

"I mean..If youre comfortable with that. I...I don't wanna assume.." he begins to retract his offer and Chloe quickly turns her body to look at him.

"No Kihyun......" she pauses to touch his knee.

"Im just surprised. I...I don't know. Just didn't think your parents knew about me."

"Why wouldnt they? Your family knows about me.." Kihyun quirks his brow with a confused smile and Chloe shrugs a shoulder lazily.

"Thats because we werent always a couple Ki. I introduced you as a friend before you became my man. They knew you."

"And now my parents want to know you. Whats the big deal?"  Kihyun's brow crinkled with confusion just as Chloe's mimicked him with a type of worry he had never seen on her.

She drops her chin with an anxious sigh before asking..

"Do they know that Im....you know.." she looks back up, finding Kihyun's soft eyes still on her.

"What? That youre a Cancer but apare tly act like a Virgo? Whatever that means...Horribly lactose intolerant but in denial? That you hit every curb when you turn? That you snore sometimes and are vegan but only on Wednesdays?" He teases in an attempt to lighten her mood. It works a little but he still earns a back handed slap to the chest.

"Aagh!" He falls back into the couch, clutching his shirt dramatically as they both laughed. Chloe, reluctantly of course.

"Shut up. That Im black, you dirtbag. Did you tell them that?" She pouts adorably, not dousing the humor at all and Kihyun breathy cackle tapers into a long winded sigh as he sat back up.

"Whew...man. Thats it? Thats what youre worried about??" he exhales. Although he found it funny, Chloe wasnt all that amused.

She didnt know why she was worried about what Kihyun's parents thought of her, apart from the fact that , according to him, she was the only black woman he'd ever dated seriously. If at all.

He never made her feel as if she were his first. The way he was immediately comfortable with her and her family made it seem like he was accustomed to different cultures. They had similar tastes in music and movies. Hell, he'd even put her on to a few things. But what if his family was different? She'd heard stories from others and their experiences in interracial relationships. Mostly positive but negatives stuck with her.

Specifically the parts where the parents didn't approve of the partner merely because of their race or ethnicity.

"I think its a pretty valid concern." She says after allowing Kihyun to stop finding everything about her worries so entertaining.

He couldnt help it though. The way her bottom lip poked out made him want to lean down and bite it.

Kihyun sighs before gesturing for Chloe to come to him. She does so with no hesitation, climbing into his lap and nuzzling his neck as he hugged her waist.

"Youre right. How you feel is valid...But Ive shown them your picture. So I'd hope that part of you at the least was obvious. Though my mother paid more attention to your big pretty eyes and perfect smile than the color of your skin. Oh and your hair. She loves your loc's and the way the curl at the end. She said she'd never seen any like that before, and that you wear them so well and how much they suit you...."

"No she didnt.." Chloe mutters grumpily against Kihyun's neck, although he felt her smile at the genuine compliment.

"She did. And my dad is most impressed with how smart you are. How you're studying law and undoubtably the smartest woman Ive dated. I agree with him." He shrugs his free shoulder, resting his chin on top of her head as his thumb soothed her waist just below her t-shirt.

"Baby. If youre not comfortable meeting them yet, I respect that. But please dont ever think you have a reason to worry about their approval. Shit, I had more reason to be afraid of your folks accepting me..The scrawny Asian kid you met at University."

At that, Chloe rolls her eyes.

"Stop it, my family loves you." She scoffs and Kihyun pulls back from her just enough to make her lift her head and look at him.

"Yeah? Well I love you, Ok? So know that I would never suggest anything that would put you in an uncomfortable situation. Not with my parents. Not with anyone. I'll protect you from whoever. I mean that.."

Searching his eyes for any fragility or reason to believe he was bluffing, Chloe ultimately found nothing except the reflection of her shining eyes and trembling bottom lip.

"Why do you have to say stuff like that..." she huffs after a beat.

She lets out a half hearted laugh in exasperation as she wiped a disloyal tear from her eye. Kihyun regards her softly, biting back his grin as he leaned forward, tipping her chin up for her to offer her lips to him for a kiss.

When their lips meet, Kihyun hums in contentment before smiling against her.

"Youre such a baby...." he mumbles, smooching her lips much more sensually. Kihyun inhales softly as he parted her lips with the sweep of his tongue, squeezing a handful of her cheeks to pull her closer. Chloe squeals in his hold,but her smile fades gradually as Kihyun deepens the kiss.

They'd have to finish the whole "meet the folks" conversation later..

Sexually

Kihyun is nasty. He's a dom and he's running the damn show. He's not the kinkiest fella. He might dabble in some light BDSM-esque type play but over all hes quite vanilla. Very attentive and passionate. Loves to take his time and can get kind of rough and mouthy in the heat of the moment. Loves to leave hickeys all over if you let him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sex was always on Kihyun's mind, even when he didn't show it. It was hard when a woman like Chloe, who exuded sexiness even in the simplest ways, was by his side.

On the outside, he's as cool as they come. Polite and mindful of who was around. He still made sure to keep her close by holding her waist or caressing her thigh. Tracing his fingers over the inseam of her jeans as a subtle hint of where his mind was.

No matter what they were doing or where they were, she had a way of keeping his mind on her body.

How it felt and her smell. Her taste. God, he loved her taste. He's almost a slave to it.

Internally, every cell in his body was attuned to hers. There were times when Kihyun's desire for Chloe was so overwhelming that he'd rush to get her naked and in his or her bed the moment they were alone.

Plans to visit Seoul were set in motion, Kihyun's parents generously paying for their tickets and even FaceTiming them ahead of time to ease some of the apprehension. Despite it being non traditional and the slight language barrier, Chloe felt nothing but warmth from their introduction. His mother especially, accepting many compliments on her beauty with a cherub cheeked smile and little head bows.

She even impressed them with the little Korean she did know, phrases and words she'd picked up while being with Kihyun or from what he'd taught her. His parents were almost as fluent in English as he was but it was still endearing of Chloe to make the effort.

Watching them interact and chiming in to still translate every now and then, Kihyun's heart soared at this new part of his life melding with the old.

After saying goodbye, Kihyun tosses his phone behind him to land on the couch before launching himself on top of Chloe. Her surprised giggle is muffled amid Kihyun's rushed kisses and hands busied sliding beneath her shirt.

"Ki...Kihyun...what the hell.." Chloe laughs when his lips detached from hers and began to travel down her jaw. The moment he latched on her neck, Chloe gasps.

By now Kihyun knew Chloe's body well enough to know exactly where to touch her. He was efficient in that way.

With his hands.

With his lips.

With his words.

"You make me happy. So happy and I just love you..So much..You dont even know...." He mouths against her skin between wet kisses. His hands curl around her waist to hold her beneath him as he nuzzled her neck, his

He takes a chunk of skin between his teeth, making Chloe roll her hips and press their bodies together in a way that has them groaning in unison.

"Ah!..love you too..." she manages before moaning his name again as Kihyun continues licking and sucking a his brand into her skin, grinding his obvious erection against the crotch of her thin leggings.

"But..what did I do?" She giggles, cradling his head against her

Before they could start a fire, Kihyun pulls away and drags his flustered and starry eyed girlfriend upright and to stand with him.

His kiss-burned lips shined even before he licked them, his fingers interlocking with hers as he guided her to stumbled closer.

"Nothing..." Kihyun shakes his head, holding Chloe in his smoldering gaze.

"That's the point. You're just...you." He admits.

The two stare at eachother for a moment, and before Chloe could respond, Kihyun leads her by the hands away from the couch. He cautiously steps backward around the furniture and into the shadows of the hallway with Chloe following him without question, tilting her head cutely and tucking her lips to keep from giggling when he nudged her bedroom door open with his foot.

There were nights like this, when the city was quiet and the orangish glow of the street light through the blinds of her bedroom window would cast stripes over the curves of Chloe's body as she stood before him, that made him want to take his time.

Time to ensure she knew how much he cherished her for being herself ,and being open hearted and brave enough to love him.

Kihyun knew a little bit about her past relationships through being her friend first. He knew about the lies and manipulation. He knew about the mental abuse and the cheating. He knew about the lasting effect it had on her emotionally, even to this day.

And yet she let him in anyway..

Kihyun had just finished pulling his shirt over his head, shaking his hair back in place while Chloe freed herself of her own. She stands inches away from him in a sexy lacy bra and panty set that matched the shade of the night sky.

He traced every shadow and line of her features under the scarce lighting with adoring eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile.

She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and in his mind, that wasn't even an exaggeration due to his feelings. Kihyun had seen beauty in many shades and forms. Some natural and some...not so much.

And none of them compared to her with her bare face, smooth sepia skin and her gorgeous crown.

Speaking of..

Kihyun's eyes lift to Chloe's dark roots and trickle down the curve her long locs framed her round face, scattered flecks of gold cuffs and honey blonde bleeding down to their spiraled ends. Chloe keeps her attention on his gentle focus as he pinched a stray curl between his fingers daintily before freeing her top bun from the confines of her the elastic band. Her head falls back as a waterfall of curly ended locs cascading down from the loosened knot he put them in earlier.

Kihyun immediately goes to raking his fingers through them so that they don't obscure his view of her face and the deepening mark brandishing her neck.

"Youre so perfect.." he exhales, saying it more to himself than to her. But the sentiment is received with shy smile before Kihyun captures it with his lips. As they did before, wet languid kisses travel from Chloe's pout, under her chin, and down the side of her neck.

"So fucking perfect baby.." he writes over the curve of her tummy with his kiss, nibbling at her navel and dipping his tongue into it on his way down.

He slowly drops to his knees with his lifting  eyes on hers, his hands gliding down with him to hold her hips possessively.

"Everything about you..." he fragments as he leaned into her, his lips tracing the line of her panties, his fingers teasing over their elastic as if he were about to pull them down.

But he doesn't. Instead, he nosed at the bulge of her other set of pillowy soft lips that begged to be kissed. So he did, pressing his lips right over their covered seam to tease her clit with the warmth of his tongue through the her panties.

Chloe watched him with drunken eyes, biting her lip and tipping her head back when the friction of Kihyun's tongue over her clothed pussy became too much for her.

"Kihyun..." she whines, finding him watching her dutifully. He knew what she wanted, even with the way she said his name just now. He knew she wasn't in the mood for teasing.

"What baby?" He tilts his sultry, only to drop his chin and drag the flat of his tongue over the tiny hill under her panties. The warmth of his mouth soaks straight through, making the fabric like a second skin as he licked her slit again.

This time, he sneaks a finger between her mound and his tongue and he pulls back to watch it rub tortuous circles over her clit.

"Hmm?" He reiterates with his other hand holding her fast at the hip, kneading her affectionately as she squirmed above him.

"Stop playing with me." Chloe scolds him but Kihyun merely smiles wickedly, glancing up slowly. He stands without warning, bumping his forehead against hers as he pulled her flat against him.

"But you love it." He exhales before lips apart and dipping his tongue between them.

"...love it when I touch you. Love it when I....fuck.." he pauses with groan at the way Chloe sucks his tongue, bobbing her head slowly before pulling back. They both smile against each other lips before diving back in, Kihyun's words forgotten.

He resumed undressing her as he distracted her with his deepening kisses, starting with the clasps of her bra and going back to peeling her panties down her thick thighs and helping her step out of them. All the while, his kept his gaze on her face.

Even when he dove back in with his tongue, dipping it between her folds to lick over her sensitive bud.

Chloe's knees buckle slightly on contact, her crescendoing moans only spurning him on.

"You don't want me to play with you baby? Hmm?..Want me to stop?" He mutters between teasing his tongue over her heat, tasting the way she dripped for him.

Desperate hands rake through Kihyun's hair as he focused all of his efforts on flicking his tongue over Chloe's hardening clit, his muffled groaning and fluttering eyes almost enough to push her over the edge.

"Thats right...Cum baby.." his words vibrated over her sex, the loudness of his wet tongue lapping over her clit becoming the only sound either of them could focus on.

He didn't even have to use his fingers and Chloe was already on the brink of exploding hard against his lips and tongue, crying out with a fistful of his hair in her grasp.

Before she could, Kihyun was rising from his knees. Lips wet from her pussy and eyes burning with desire, he quickly shucks off whatever clothing remained until only sweat existed between their bodies.

He's rock solid against her thighs, his shaft pulsing against her glistening folds as held her close.

He lays Chloe down with his tongue caressing hers, taking every needy mewl and moan she gave him as he settled himself between her thighs. His nimble fingers dig into the meat of her hips, hiking one of her legs up and over his arm to spread her wider for him. He had her pinned and helplessly open.

Kihyun wasn't a big guy in terms of stature or height (still taller by every partner he’s had) but he had the strength of two on a good day. Especially when it came to lifting up, tossing, or keeping Chloe right where he wanted her.

Like now, when the way he had her folded, creasing her soft tummy and making it a little hard to breathe. It was a discomfort that Chloe welcomed.

And as far as his size size, Chloe would never tell him how surprised she was to find out how much Kihyun had to offer. His girth was perfect, the length being just enough to make her gasp every time his tip swept against her walls when he was inside of her.

Kihyun's dick rubbed over her slick folds as he ground his hips against her, teasing his shaft against pussy while kissing her deeply.

Occasionally, he'd slip only the tip in before letting it slide up to rub over her clit, making her whimper pitifully beneath him.

Over and over, until Chloe was begging for him to put it in. When he did, they both cussed at the indescribable pleasure that rippled through them.

It was like this every time.

"Like that baby...grip me tight.." he growls with a pained and pleasured scowl marring his perfect features.

His grunts are low and deep from in his chest everytime his dick made impact, forcing her body into the mattress. Breasts bouncing and hands gripping the sheets. Chloe hiccups when he slams against her cervix, making him grin devilishly.

"Again..." she pants and Kihyun obeys, drawing his hips back and slamming into her again. She tenses and arches from the bed at the pressure but Kihyun pins her legs back so that shes unable to run.

"Fuck!...Kihyun.." she whimpers.

"Nope. Stay with me. I'll make it hurt so good, my pretty baby. Just hold on for me, ok?" he gruffs with a short peck on her lips and Chloe's walls spasm around his length.

While he may seem gentle with his words and his foreplay, m he's a straight menace otherwise. Coaxing the most inhumane sounds from a normally composed woman was his newfound specialty.

He'd never fucked anyone the way he fucked her, nor did he ever want to. Hell, he didn't think he could. The amount of stamina he exhibited as he manages to pull orgasm after orgasm from his woman made him feel superhuman.

He fucked her with everything he had, with one of her legs over his shoulder, both of them over his shoulder, turning her over and pinning her flat against the mattress. But its when he has her back on her back that he pushes himself nearly to the point of tears as he called her name in the crook of her neck when he came.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kihyun is a very dirty talker but the way his buttery voice caresses the words, you'd swear he wasnt. He's also a huge tease so be prepared for that. Some light degradation and edging. Lots of praise too though. He prefers raw sex so hes not the type to have anything casual. Hes very adamant about sexual health, hygiene and being clean overall. So If he's having sex with you regularly, that means yall are in a relationship and the idea of making a baby at some point isn't too far from his mind. Cream pies are his favorite kind of pie. But he'll absolutely wear condoms if you prefer it.

But he secretly hopes you don't so he can leave it in🥴

As it was mentioned before, I don’t rake Kihyun for much of an ass man (he loves a nice booty as much as the next man) but Kihyun loves breasts. Those are the first things he wants to see in the morning. He loves tracing his finger around the textured parts of the areola when he’s big spooning. He loves suckling them even more, flicking his tongue over the nipple and smiling around it when it makes you tremble. He’s fir sure ripped a few bras in the heat of passion and always makes sure to buy you new ones.

The really pretty, vibrant, lacy ones. When in doubt, always wear the blue ones.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Korea was amazing. Kihyun brought Chloe to his parents home straight away after they landed. His father was actually the one to pick them up from the airport and Chloe immediately saw where he got his charm and sense of humor from. Although a little more reserved and quiet, it was obvious.

Kihyun's mother was just as sweet as Kihyun, very thoughtful and doting. She asked Chloe a million questions and expressed multiple times how she wished she had a daughter and how she was glad to have one now. It was a little overwhelming at first, and COMPLETELY unexpected, but perhaps this was how Kihyun felt when he met her family.

Surrounded by love.

Its a quiet morning in the city park and most of the movement consisted of people walking their dogs, joggers winding through other pedestrians, and mothers in track suits pushing big strollers containing cooing infants.

Chloe beams as one mother passes them, catching a glimpse of a tiny round faced baby with almond eyes, tan skin and wispy curly hair.

"Do you want kids?"

The question doesnt catch Kihyun as off guard as it would anyone else. Especially considering how Chloe was the type to ask if he'd still love her if she was a worm or some other random sentient being.

"Why? Are you pregnant?" He asks jokingly while squinting againt the scope of his Canon EOS. The shutter sound clicks as he captures a photo of a wren perched on the railing of a nearby fence. He frowns at the image with scrutiny before going back to scanning their surroundings for something inspiring to shoot.

Chloe walks alongside him quietly, hugging herself against the autumn breeze in her oversized sweater and ripped jeans as she continued to people watch.

She hadnt even realized she didn't respond to Kihyun's rebuttal question until he is stopping dead in his tracks, leaving her strolling leisurely ahead until she notices. Chloe turns to him and furrows her brow.

"What?" She frowns, noting his expectant expression.

"I just asked if you were pregnant and you stopped talking. Thats what. " he blinks, mirroring the way Chloe's lashes batted at him in confusion before she smiles.

"Oh...Oh! No....hell no." She laughs, nearly snorting. She waved off his apprehension before encouraging him to resume his place beside her on the leaf littered path.  They crunch loudly under Kihyun's feet when he stepped towards her, lifting his camera to take an obnoxious snap of her before grabbing her proffered hand.

"Yeah very funny. Are you sure?" He lifts his brows and Chloe nods emphatically.

"Positive. This IUD has about 3 more years before it expires and it hasn't let me down yet." She bumps Kihyun with her shoulder. He grunts in amusement (and relief) before nudging her back gently.

"Good. I felt my blood pressure go up just now. Don't do that.." he exhaled with a laugh of his own.

Chloe drops her chin to watch their synchronized steps. She smiles guiltily for spooking the hell out of her unshakable partner while tightening her grip on his hand.

"No no..Im sorry. I only asked because I see everyone with a baby is outside today. Then seeing my sister all excited about her baby...Plus, we never really talked about it so.." Chloe trails off with half of a shrug.

Which was true. The two of them never had any conversations about the future in that way. Kihyun loved kids and was so patient with them from what Chloe observed. She never told him how it made her feel when she saw him holding his two year old nephew back at his parent's house, refusing to put her down even while he helped his mother in the kitchen.

She felt something stir within her that she never felt before. A flutter much like butterflies in her chest as well as her tummy.

Was this what baby fever was supposed to feel like?

Kihyun was momentarily distracted with his camera, scrunching his face with it lifted and aimed at the canopy of trees towering over them.

"Oh..well, sure.. eventually." He pauses to review the shots he'd just taken.

" I mean, Id for sure marry you first though." He mumbles, his thumb tapping the tiny buttons to scroll through the photos.

Now it was Chloe's turn to stop dead in her tracks. Their hands come apart, stealing Kihyun's attention from his camera to look back at her.

"You'd marry me?" Chloe asks in blatant surprise with a dash of disbelief in her expression, an ironic contrast to how Kihyun was just looking at her a few minutes before.

"What makes you think I wouldnt?" He smirks with his brow crinkled in amusement. Chloe glances around the busying park before shrugging.

"I don't know...." She mumbles, doing a horrible job at hiding her little pout. He regards her blankly for a second before sighing.

"Well I would. If that answers the questions that are probably swirling around in that big ass, over active ass brain you've got over there."

Chloe scowled cutely at the mini jab, prompting Kihyun to lift his camera to capture it as he continues.

"..and yes I would put babies in you. Maybe 2 or 3, if you're up to it. Boy or girl, I don't really care. As long as you're all healthy..." he goes on, closing the small gap between them and pausing occasionally to check the screen on the camera and smirking at the way Chloe's expression softened gradually from frame to frame.

"We would of course be done with school by then. I'll buy you a new car for a graduation present and you'll cuss me out for being over the top. And I'll tell you to shut up because I'll be the one driving it anyway. Then we'll get a nice house. Nothing too crazy. Modern but cozy. You'll be a tough ass defense attorney and I'll be in journalism doing something way less interesting than you but I wont care because I'd rather brag about my wife and her job than mine anyway..."

He's directly in front of her by now, snapping countless photos of Chloe's enamored and twinkling doe eyes as she gazed at him over the camera, her lips twisting in a subdued smile that she was failing at fighting back.

It was the type of smile that could break the hardest exteriors and melt the coldest hearts. Not that Kihyun ever claimed to be that cold or hard bodied. Some might have described him as such but not since he found her.

Kihyun lowers the obstructive device so that she could see the earnestness on his face when he spoke. He lifts his hand to pinch her chin softly, stroking her skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Because Ive never felt more sure about anyone in my life and you deserve all of that and more. You'll figure that out one of these days. Sooner than later , I hope."

Chloe finally gives in to the fullness of her smile, her soft dimples denting her cheeks and her bunny nose wrinkling slightly. She tries to turn away from his touch to hide her blush that only he could see, and Kihyun tips her chin back towards him and holds her in his eyes.

"Of course, Im in no rush for any of that. Thats just my plan...Im enjoying having you to myself these days."   

He pulls Chloe into his side, pressing a kiss to her temple and then her lips.

Just then, a bright red cardinal perches on a branch that bobbed merely inches away from where they were standing. Kihyun's eyes open at the sound of its song and he abruptly breaks their kiss, leaving Chloe's eyes fluttering in confusion until she hears the telling clicks of his camera shooting over her shoulder.

Its as if Kihyun had completely forgotten she was there and that they were having a moment by the way he was now fully engrossed by the disinterested bird.

"Ooh thats perfect..." he mutters as the continued to capture stills of the bird until it ultimately flew away. His shoulders drop, as does his smile and his shoulders.

Even the camera droops in his hold , giving Chloe the perfect opportunity to snatch it from his hands. Kihyun barely has time to react before shes turning it on him and going ham on the shutter button.

Snickering, she lowers the camera to look at the screen, smiling warmly at the array of expressions she'd captured. His pout and furrowed brow. His eyes wide with surprise and confusion. The last photo she'd taken immortalized Kihyun's handsome face and heart stuttering smile looking back at her. She bites her lip in reaction to that familiar and almost overwhelming sensation of butterflies swarming in her chest again.

"Youre right..." she lifts her brows before looking back up at him.

"Perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Love Language:

Im on the fence between Acts of Service, Gifts, and Quality time. All of which could be valid because we all tend to dabble in multiple (or all) love languages. But since he is basically hubby, he's extremely reliable, loves spending time with his partner when his schedule permits it. Loves cooking for you and feeding you. Loves making things for you in general. Things that he knows you'll use often.

And he loves buying you things. Clothes, jewelry, high quality food. He doesn't really care about receiving gifts as much as he enjoys giving but if you were to gift him, make it something useful and personal. That would really make him blush.

As far as gifts giving, Kihyun would absolutely buy you a car out of the blue if you mentioned needing a new one lol He'd just randomly pull up in it and you'd be like "oh this is nice" and he'd say "oh you think so? Here." , tossing you the keys. He's the young flexer after all.

Must be nice..

Pet names/terms of endearment:

'Darling' or 'Baby' seem to be his go to's for pet names. With his deep voice and the way his lips kiss consonants when he speaks, I cant imagine anyone being able to resist him when he calls them one of those two. Maaaybe even princess or "My Queen" when he's being cheeky. For sure 'Baby' though.

[destiny-fics]

Let It Snow

[Hwang Hyunjin x Han Jisung x Fem!reader]

Pairing: Han Jisung x Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Summary: Floor 3 of the Holy-Ivy building is known for three things: Han Jisung, Hwang Hyunjin and their never ending arguments with one another. As their floormate it is absolutely painful to have to listen to them going at it every time they bump into each other, but you'll finally get a reprieve when you go home for Christmas. Until your apartment block gets snowed in, the power goes out and now you have an arguing Hyunjin and Jisung in your apartment...great.

Warnings: smut, sub!reader, dom!Hyunjin, dom!Jisung, bisexual!Hyunjin, bisexual!Jisung, arguing, oral (fem recieving), cumming sort of untouched in the cases of both Hyunjin and Jisung, no actual sex, swearing, dirty talk, yelling, polyamory, past relationships and past break-ups, black outs, snowstorms, getting snowed in, Hyunjin and Jisung are dumb and don’t know how to communicate, reader gets called baby and angel, Hyunjin gets called baby once, Chan gets indirectly called old and the poor guy isn't even there to defend himself

General Taglist: @hiseu @yeosayang @avyskai @whatudowhennooneseesyou @foxdaisy @lickslixie @maskedmochiii

Part of the Holly Jolly Christmas series

Series Masterlist

Ah Sunday mornings. Nothing to do, no one to go see. Just you, your soft white sheets and the small slither of sunlight shining through your window as the suggestion of morning began to make itself known.

"What the fuck is your problem Jisung?"

You groaned as the peace of your Sunday morning was abruptly ended by the loud voice of your neighbour, Hwang Hyunjin, yelling at your other neighbour, Han Jisung.

This was not an uncommon occurrence, in fact, you'd actually be more surprised if they stopped fighting. They didn't always dislike each other, according to one of the other Holly-Ivy residents, Lee Felix, but they had been fighting ever since you had moved in and you were sure would continue fighting long after you had gone.

"What is my problem? What is your problem Hyunjin?" You groaned again as Jisung's loud yell responded to Hyunjin's and you realised they were once again, arguing right outside your door. Forcing yourself to get out of bed, you stomped to your front door, not caring about the fact that you were still in your pajamas and threw open your door, startling both men.

"Y/n!" Hyunjin smiled at you, leaning against your doorway. "Good morning."

"Mm, it was, until I woke up to the sounds of my neighbours arguing right outside my door."

Jisung, to his credit, had the sense to look sheepish, casting his eyes to the ground. "Sorry y/n, we didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," you sighed softly, tilting Jisung's chin up so he would look at you again. "I should probably get a start on packing anyway." You squished Jisung's cheek gently, making him laugh. Hyunjin briefly rolled his eyes at Jisung, muttering something which sounded suspiciously like 'simp,' before turning his focus back on you.

"Pack? Why? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to my parents' for Christmas."

"Oh," there was a tinge of sadness to Jisung's voice and catching it only served to make Hyunjin roll his eyes again. "When?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow and I'll be back on the 27th."

"What are we going to do without you for five days angel?" There was a purr to Hyunjin's voice as he spoke the pet name and it made you shiver slightly.

"Try not to kill each other? I'm sure you'll find ways to entertain yourselves."

"But if you're not here," Hyunjin was pouting now, "who's gonna stop me and Sungie from fighting?" Jisung looked disgusted at the pet name but you caught the slight red tinge to his cheeks. Rolling your eyes at Hyunjin, you removed your hand from Jisung's cheek to pat Hyunjin's.

"Go see Felix baby. Or just be nice to each other, I'm sure you can manage for five days. Just don't call me, this is supposed to be my reprieve from you two."

"You need a break from us?" Jisung looked sad at the idea and you sighed softly, shaking your head.

"No Sung, just from the arguments. I like you both very much."

"But you like me more right?" You rolled your eyes at Jisung's question and shook your head.

"No. I like you both the same. Now, not that I wouldn't like to stand in my doorway all day in my pyjamas, but I have things to do. So, I'll see you both later." Before you could close the door, Hyunjin grabbed your wrist, pulling you close to him, Jisung watching the interaction with his jaw set in a mix of jealousy, anger and something else he couldn't quite place.

"Angel, promise you'll come say goodbye before you go?" There was a plea in Hyunjin's voice which you couldn't ignore and you nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"I promise, I'll come say goodbye before I leave tomorrow morning."

Hyunjin seemed satisfied with that answer and nodded, letting you go. You pressed a kiss to Jisung's cheek too before going back inside your apartment, shutting the door behind you and leaning against it with a sigh. You could hear Hyunjin and Jisung's argument starting up again as they walked down that hall and you rolled your eyes, sighing again.

"So much for a peaceful Sunday morning," you sighed, pushing off your door as you made your way into your bedroom to actually start your morning routine.

Your relationship with both Jisung and Hyunjin was odd to say the least.

You had moved into your apartment a year ago, and really couldn't understand why everyone in the building was apologising to you for getting the last apartment on floor three. Until you had met Hyunjin and Jisung at your welcome party. They were both wonderful alone, but when they were together it was a whole different situation. Hyunjin couldn't do anything without setting Jisung off and Jisung couldn't do anything without setting Hyunjin off. Your party had been a disaster and you had spent the afternoon afterwards crying on your couch. You just wanted to make a good first impression to the people in your building and now they would forever know you as the girl whose party was a disaster. You had jumped when the doorbell rung and had been even more surprised to find Jisung standing outside of your door, a bunch of sunflowers in his hand. You had invited him in, he had apologised and eventually Jisung found himself in your bed, apologising to you by fucking you into your mattress. The next day when Hyunjin turned up to apologise too, it went in pretty much the same way, except now you had a bouquet of roses to complement the sunflowers Jisung had brought you the day prior.

Your relationships with the two men had only continued to progress from there, but never into the territory of dating. You had feelings for both of them and didn't think it would be fair to date both of them while they hated each other, it wasn't even on the cards for a conversation. So you stayed as friends, even if you crossed over into flirting territory with them more often than not.

Being your friend did not improve Hyunjin and Jisung's relationship at all, in fact it really only served to make it worse. You just hoped that now they could keep it together long enough to behave while you were away. Or at least enough that you wouldn't receive another phone call from Minho or Seonghwa to 'come collect your boys.'

~

Safe to say your Christmas plans were undeniably ruined.

Blackouts weren't uncommon at the Holly-Ivy around this time of year, but they also weren't uncommon throughout the whole town during this time of year.

What was uncommon however, was the whole apartment building getting snowed in. No one was allowed in, or out and that included you. So now you weren't going home for Christmas, instead lighting scented candles around your apartment for some light, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and eyes puffy from crying on the phone to your mum when you told her you wouldn't be coming home. You paused as you finished lighting your final candle, ears tuning in to the sound of arguing and scuffling outside of your apartment door. You sighed a little, knowing exactly who to expect and shuffled over to your door, trying not to knock over any candles as you went.

“What are you guys doing here?”

Hyunjin and Jisung both snapped their heads to you, loosening their arms from around each other and standing up straight.

“I just wanted to check on you,” Jisung’s voice softened at the sight of your red eyes. “Make sure you were okay after you couldn’t go home.”

“Bullshit,” Hyunjin snorted. “You’re only here because you knew I would come to check on her.”

“I can have original ideas, you know Hyunjin? Unlike you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean whose idea was it to bring y/n flowers when she was upset after the party?”

“The party you ruined.”

“The party you both ruined actually,” you rolled your eyes, tugging on both of their wrists so they entered your apartment. You shut the door behind them and began to walk further into the apartment, Hyunjin and Jisung trailing after you like lost puppies. “But I forgave you both for that, remember? And I liked both bunches of flowers equally.”

“Okay but mine were your favourite right?” Hyunjin rushed to walk next to you, narrowly avoiding a few candles. “I mean roses are so much more romantic than sunflowers.”

You could hear Jisung scoff behind you and you sunk into your couch, Hyunjin and Jisung scrambling to sit either side of you. “No Hyunjin, I liked both bunches equally, I like everything you both do equally.”

“But that’s not possible,” Jisung piped up, leaning his head onto your shoulder. “You have to like one of us more than the other.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a headache coming on at the thought of having to listen to them bicker any more. “No Jisung, I like you both the same.”

“She’s just saying that because she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings Sungie, we both know I’m her favourite.”

And just like that they were both off again, Jisung lifting his head off your shoulder so that he could argue back to Hyunjin. Your eye twitched in anger and you tried to tune them out, but eventually it just got too much to handle. Jisung and Hyunjin were startled out of their argument by you standing quickly.

“That’s it! I am tired of the two of you and your constant bickering. I don’t even know how it started and I don’t care but it needs to stop. It makes everyone uncomfortable, me especially. I like you both the same, in fact I think I might love you both the same. But I am sick of the two of you fighting over me like I’m some kind of prize to be won, like if one of you gets me then you’re somehow superior over the other. I am not going to be used as a toy in your stupid little feud, I deserve better than that. I’m going to my room, and if you want to see me again you better stop acting like spoiled little children and sort your issues out like adults. I’m done playing mediator.” You turned on your heel, not looking at either of them as you slammed the door to your bedroom. There was a long silence as both Hyunjin and Jisung just watched the space where you had walked away from them, stunned into not speaking. Jisung buried his head in his hands, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“We fucked up.”

Hyunjin’s statement made Jisung let out a muffled laugh into his hands. “For once I agree with you, yeah, we did fuck up.”

“You used to agree with me a lot more Hanji, what happened to us?”

Jisung hadn’t heard that name from Hyunjin’s lips in a long time and he looked up at him, mouth agape. “We broke up.”

Hyunjin snorted, “I suppose we did do that. But I thought we were going to try and still be friends.”

“Yeah until you iced me out Hyunjin. You started acting like you didn’t want to see me at all.”

“Becuase Seungmin told me to back off! He said I was just making things harder for you and that I should stop trying so hard.”

“And you listened to him?”

“Look it wasn’t the best piece of advice I'd ever heard, but when you started snapping at me I thought it had really solidified that you hated me, so I just started snapping back. And then when y/n moved in, I thought it was a good chance to move on, until I went to her place the day after her welcome party to find that you had been there first.”

“You still fucked her,” Jisung pointed out, leaning against the couch. “And I never hated you, not really. Sure I was hurt and angry and I can’t say I don’t find you annoying, but I never hated you. In fact, I might still be kind of in love with you.”

“I never hated you either Sung,” Hyunjin gave Jisung a soft smile. Jisung’s hands twitched at his sides and Hyunjin opened his arms, an invitation Jisung could choose to accept or ignore. Jisung almost tripped over himself rushing into Hyunjin’s arms, practically knocking the wind out of the other with the force at which he collided with Hyunjin’s chest. Hyunjin wrapped his arms around Jisung in a tight hug, willing the tears which were in his eyes to not spill over. He kissed the top of Jisung’s head. “I’m still kind of in love with you too Jisung.” Jisung let out a noise which was half a sob, half a cry of relief and buried his head further into Hyunjin’s chest.

“We really fucked up didn’t we?” Jisung looked up at Hyunjin. “Not just between us but with all our friends too, y/n especially.”

“We did. But, we can always fix it.”

“You think she’ll forgive us?”

“I don’t know, but all we can do is apologise and explain some things about us we both may have neglected to mention.”

Jisung nodded, burying his face back into Hyunjin’s chest “I missed you Jinnie.”

Hyunjin smiled softly, pressing another kiss to the top of Jisung’s head. “I missed you too Sung.”

~

“Are you two ready to behave like adults?” You sounded dissapointed and the tone made both men wince. They nodded and you sighed before allowing them into your bedroom, looking at them expectantly as you sat on your bed. “So, what is it?”

Jisung was fiddling with his fingers anxiously and Hyunjin reached out to grab his hand, instantly relaxing him. You raised your eyes at the sudden new development and it prompted Hyunjin to start speaking.

“We want to apologise for the fighting,” he began. “We never should have involved you into our lover’s spats and we didn’t mean to make you feel like you were just a prize to us, we don’t see you like that.”

“But regardless of our intentions, we still hurt you and we want to apologise for that.” Jisung was looking at you directly as he spoke and you nodded slowly, pausing as you processed their words.

“What do you mean your lover's spats?”

“That’s another thing we need to apologise to you for, we haven't been completely transparent about the nature of our relationship.”

“He means,” Jisung interrupted, rolling his eyes at Hyunjin’s use of complex vocabulary. “We used to date, Hyunjin and I.”

“You what?” You hadn’t meant to have an outburst like that and your eyes widened as the words left your mouth. Jisung and Hyunjin looked at each other in shock before laughing a little bit.

“We used to date,” Hyunjin giggled a bit. “Jisung and I. But we broke up about three months before you moved in.”

“I don’t really know why to be honest. But thanks to some shitty advice from one of our friends Hyunjin started icing me out and I started snapping at him.”

“Which eventually snowballed into whatever the fuck we had going on up until this point. We’re sorry we weren’t more honest with you.”

You nodded slowly and Jisung moved forward, looking nervous. “…Are you going to say anything, you’re kind of freaking me out.”

You chewed on your lip, looking between the two of them “Do you both not have feelings for me then? Was I just some kind of rebound for you?” Both men looked horrified at the suggestion and Hyunjin rushed forward to take your face in his hands, stroking over your cheek softly with his thumb.

“No, angel, you were never just a rebound for either of us.”

“We have feelings for you, romantic feelings. In fact we have all the feelings for you.”

“Eloquent as ever Sung,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, before looking back to you. “This guy’s one of the best music producers out there and that’s what he comes up with? But he’s right, we have all the feelings for you.”

You giggled a little bit, before glaring at both of them “So you mean to tell me that this whole time I’ve been pining over you separately when I could have been pining over you together? That I could actually have both of you?” Hyunjin and Jisung shared a look.

“Well,” Jisung started, “yes, you can have both of us, we’d actually enjoy that a lot. But Hyunjin and I need a bit of time to work out what a romantic relationship is going to look like between the two of us, so we don’t make the same mistakes as last time.”

“The sexual part of our relationship we’ve got down,” Hyunjin yelped as Jisung swatted him. “But clearly we’ve gotta work on the romance.”

“I don’t think it’ll take long,” Jisung hummed softly, kissing Hyunjin’s cheek. “But we’re not quite ready to go back to being boyfriends yet.”

“I understand, thank you, for being honest with me. I’m happy to wait as long as it takes for you both.”

“Well,” Hyunjin smirked a bit. “You don’t have to wait for us at all.”

“Actually,” Jisung grinned, sitting on the bed next to you, “We’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Both men nodded and Hyunjin leaned down until his lips were hovering right over your own. “Like I said, Sung and I have the sexual part of our relationship all figured out and, what better time to figure out how you fit into that when we’re all stuck inside until this snow storm passes?”

“That…” you swallowed hard. “That would be a productive use of our time.”

“Exactly,” Jisung purred into your ear, his hands beginning to trail over your body. You had no idea when he had moved, but found yourself not caring about the specifics much, not when his lips and tongue had begun to work themselves over your neck and jaw, Jisung groaning as he sucked little marks into your skin. Hyunjin licked his lips, smirk widening when your eyes flicked to them.

“Can I kiss you angel?” He purred, immediately connecting your lips at your nod. Kissing Hyunjin was like reading a poem, so soft and full of emotion. Some obvious, others hidden beneath the shroud of his soft, plump lips. He tasted sweet and you almost weren’t surprised to find that out. Hyunjin kissed like he was trying to imprint himself in your brain, make you obsessed with him, even though he knew you already were. You gasped against his lips when Jisung began sucking marks into the skin of your neck and Hyunjin chuckled, pulling away.

“Should have warned you angel, Jisung bites.”

“Only when I’m having something particularly tasty,” Jisung laughed, laving his tongue over the most recent mark he’d left on your skin, his artwork painting your skin pretty shades of purple, pink and red. “Or marking up someone particularly pretty.” Jisung smiled, pulling you into a kiss. His kiss was more desperate than Hyunjin’s, less like he was trying to imprint himself into your head and more like he already knew he was there. The two of you hadn’t kissed much the first time you had hooked up, so this was definitely different, and definitely better, one hundred percent. Meanwhile, Hyunjin had taken over where Jisung had left off, leaving his own little trail of pretty pink, purple and red marks along the skin of your neck and shoulder. Your soft moans into Jisung’s mouth only spurred both men on further and they began to run their hands over your body, working with a practiced ease you were quite frankly surprised by, having only been with each of them once before.

“You know angel,” Hyunjin spoke against the skin of your shoulder, before sucking another mark into the skin. “Jisung is great with his tongue.”

You gasped and Jisung pulled away with a grin, eyes a little fond as he looked at Hyunjin, “you remember that?”

“How could I forget?” Hyunjin smiled, leaning over to kiss Jisung. You smiled as you watched them, even if you felt yourself become more hot watching your boys kiss. Because they were your boys, no matter how much you had tried to deny it to everyone before. “Made me see stars every fucking time,” Hyunjin winked at you as he noticed you watching him and Jisung with rapt attention. “You want his tongue on you angel?”

“Please,” you breathed, springing Jisung and Hyunjin into action. They wasted no time stripping you and after your whine that you didn’t want to be the only naked one, stripped themselves too. Jisung propped you up against Hyunjin’s chest and began to move down to your dripping pussy, kissing your stomach and thighs as he went. He hummed in thanks as Hyunjin spread your legs and licked his lips, looking up at you for permission. At your nod and whimper of “please,” Jisung dived into your folds with boundless enthusiasm. Jisung ate you out like he was trying to make a complete mess of you. It was all tongue and spit and him groaning into your pussy and his fingers prodding at your entrance. Yet, there was still a quiet precision to it all, like he had done this so many times he had a completely mind blowing formula worked out. And it was working, for you immediately dissolved into a series of moans and curses, slipping in both Jisung and Hyunjin’s names to your mantra like a prayer. Hyunjin kept your legs spread for Jisung and ground his heavy erection into your back, whispering hotly into your ear.

“Sung’s doing so well isn’t he? I told you he was great with his tongue. Go on, tell him how good he’s making you feel?”

“So…so good! Jisung fuck, you’re so good.”

“Yeah? Baby likes it when I lick her? Fuck you taste so good.”

“Bet she’ll taste even better when she cums on your tongue,” Hyunjin hummed softly, rolling your nipples in between his fingers. You nodded quickly, hips writhing into Jisung’s face as much as they could with Hyunjin’s big hands holding onto you.

“Please…please Sung make me cum.”

And you didn’t have to ask Jisung twice, because he grinned, winking, before diving into your folds with even more passion than before. It didn’t take long before the cord which had tightened in your stomach snapped, making you moan as you came on Jisung’s face. He continued licking you through your orgasm, groaning at the taste of you. He moved up to kiss you and Hyunjin, laughing when you scrunched your face up in disgust at the taste of yourself on his mouth. Hyunjin did no such thing though and licked into Jisung’s mouth, trying to get more of a taste of you. You curled up sleepily on Hyunjin’s lap, watching the two make out next to you. You could feel Hyunjin grinding up against your ass and you giggled softly when he let out a loud moan, his cum beginning to spill onto your back and ass. Jisung giggled too, pulling away as Hyunjin whined in embarrassment.

“Gee Hyunjin, you must have missed me a lot to cum just from just a bit of kissing.”

“You know that’s not the only reason,” Hyunjin grumbled, picking you up so he could wipe the cum from your back. “Besides, don’t think I don’t know you came from eating our angel out.”

You looked at Jisung, who was now incredibly red “Yah! You would too if you got a taste of her straight from the source.”

“Ew don’t say that,” you whined, letting Hyunjin pick you up off the bed so he could start changing the sheets, “it makes me sound like a fountain.”

“I bet we could make you into a fountain,” Hyunjin hummed offhandedly. “All wet and absolutely dripping for us.”

“Dude don’t say that!” Jisung whined before depositing you in your now clean bed. “You’ll get me hard again and I don’t think my dick can handle that.”

“Oh please,” Hyunjin snorted, laying down on your bed and immediately pulling you and Jisung into a cuddle pile. “You have the refractory period of an old man, we should start calling you Chan.” You closed your eyes as Hyunjin’s squeal rang out through the apartment, presumably from Jisung smacking him. You didn’t really care to find out though, you had both your boys just the way you wanted them.

Maybe your Christmas plans hadn’t been ruined after all.

~

“I don’t know what kind of magic you worked on them, but whatever it was I thank you for it, they were getting insufferable.”

You laughed at Minho’s words, sipping your champagne as you watched Hyunjin and Jisung kick Juyeon’s ass at whatever video game they were playing. Upon finding out that you hadn’t been able to visit your family for Christmas, the residents of the floor above you had invited you over to Seonghwa’s apartment for a makeshift Christmas lunch.

“The magic of finally snapping and telling them that I wouldn’t speak to them unless they sorted out their shit and behaved like adults.”

“Ah yes,” Seonghwa hummed as he joined you and Minho, his girlfriend brushing past with a kiss on his cheek before she joined Jisung and Hyunjin in kicking Juyeon’s ass. At least you thought she was Seonghwa’s girlfriend. There had been a weird tension between the four all afternoon. “The power of them being your biggest simps.”

“I mean they’re still pretty annoying, but I wouldn’t have them any other way.”

“Oh gross,” Minho muttered and the exclamation made both you and Seonghwa laugh into your champagne. The three of you fell into easy conversation, even as you kept an eye on your boyfriends. Yeah, they were still super annoying, and yeah they still argued a bit. But at the end of the day they still loved each other, even if they hadn’t worked out how to put that love into a labeled relationship yet. And they still loved you.

Maybe you should thank the snowstorm for ruining your Christmas plans after all.

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

big dipper

plum, chapter eleven 

a/n: i usually write for this when i’m sad, often also in the middle of the night when i can’t sleep. this part was no exception. 

warnings: Joel Miller x reader, MILD SPOILERS for the last of us (both games and the hbo series), slow burn, age gap (20 years), timeline wise this is set in between the first and second game (so when they live in Jackson), ptsd, alcohol consumption, kissing

word count: 662

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Well, hello,” bubbled out of you as you spotted Joel walking past your front porch, “funny seeing you here.”

Stopping in his tracks, he glanced up and spotted you leaning against the railing with a breezy smile upon your face, “hi.”

Squinting your eyes at him for a second, you spoke, “I know why I’m not at the party, but why aren’t you?” still hearing the gathering softly in the distance. 

“I actually just came from there,” he tugged his hands into his pockets, his warm breath clear in the night air, “just on my way back.”

“Already? Damn, you must be a lot older than Tommy told me,” you teased, suddenly feeling the deck sway slightly beneath your feet, making your fingers tighten their grip on the railing, “bailing on a party after only an hour.”

Furrowing his brows at you, he asked, “are you drunk?” 

“No,” your light-hearted lie wasn’t convincing at all so you followed it up with, “okay, yeah, I might be a little buzzed.” 

“Right,” he chuckled and twisted to return to his journey home, “just don’t stay out here in the cold too long.”

“Why?” you scoffed through your giggle, halting his footsteps yet again.

“Just because the alcohol feels like it's warming you up, doesn’t mean you won’t get hypothermia. Especially dressed like that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” waving a hand in his direction, you fibbed, “I’ll go back inside in a bit.” 

“Just put on a jacket at least.”

“Nice trick mister,” you chuckled, “but I’m not going inside after my jacket. I know you,” you pointed an accusing finger at him as he suddenly abandoned his original destination and walked up your steps, “you’ll just barricade the door or something as soon as I’m inside,” though when you saw him shrug his own thick coat off and drape it over your frame, your jovial smile fell from you joking lips, “oh, I wasn’t trying to-”

“Just shut up and take it,” he quietly cut off your protest, then rested his forearms against the fence and stared out into the dim town below. 

Blinking at him a second, you eventually gave in, accepting the warm layer, “…thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Slotting in beside him, your eyes soon drifted up to look at the night sky, absentmindedly uttering, “you know, my grandma knew the names of all the different constatations in the sky, told me all about them when I came over as a kid, but somehow, I still only remember the name of big dipper. I mean, I know them, I know every single one of them, just not the names anymore. Funny how things just slip away like that. No matter how hard you fight to remember, it all just ends up being like a dream,” you then dropped your vision to find Joel already looking at you. 

Maybe it was the alcohol at work or maybe it was the months of confusing feelings finally colliding, but the next thing you knew you had leaned in and pressed your lips against his. With the whole world spinning, you felt one of his hands instinctually find purchases on your waist and the other on your cool cheek. But just as quickly as it had happened, that’s how abruptly it ended when Joel suddenly took a tense step back, his fingers still lingering a second long as you blinked up at him in dazed amazement. 

“Plum, I-…” he didn’t move an inch as you briefly saw a look of genuine fear wash over his severe features, “you should probably head off to bed.”

“What?” you sounded out of breath. 

Keep his eyes averted, he dodged, “drink some water, maybe eat a bit so that you don’t feel as bad tomorrow,” slowly backing away and recoiling as if he had just broken a priceless vase.  

Too stunned to run after him, still enveloped in his jacket, you shouted, “Joel!” watching from the porch as he walked away. 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[pfffsfic]

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 18: Looking Back

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There were two kinds of slow walk. One was the sort of walk a group of heroes would do on the way to the villain's headquarters, the sort of walk wrestlers sometimes entered the ring with. Ideally there would be a cool song playing in the background and then that song would be reused at climatic moments later in the series, but you'd never really feel the impact as strongly as you felt it that first time- she digressed. The second type was the sad type. Emotions could weigh a girl down like a backpack full of dumbbells, and though having them around usually motivated her to get where she was going and do what she was planning to do faster than usual, something about that just wasn't happening tonight. Part of her hoped to run into a monster just so something would take her mind off of the situation. None came. Only her own inner demons, which seemed less like formally-dressed hot tall guys and more like shapeless masses of painful thoughts.

Several major doors to the future had just been abruptly and unceremoniously closed off to her. She hadn't even planned to use the 'out' she had prepared by stealing from the van until much later, but now that it was no longer a possibility, this place seemed less like a magical land of possibility and wish fulfillment and more like a lawless universe of danger and despair. Why, oh why couldn't she find it in herself to get excited? Danger was good! Much of her work contained dangerous situations over which heroes triumphed. The rest of it was fluff, which was definitely out of the question right now. The difference, she realized, was that she was unsure of her ability to triumph. Her fantasies swerved from all the ways she could live it up here to all the ways she could die here. Okay, so the present was a dark forest path and the future was a cave full of monsters- the former was literal, the latter was metaphorical. What about the past? Ah, yes, the past.

She met up with Rob on her fifth real day here and they had been grilling mushrooms and catching small forest animals ever since. Before that, though, life was less... stable.

MORNING 1: DEEP FREEZE

If she squinted, she could make out the clock on the wall of the vacant grocery store. 2:11. That had to be AM since the stars and moon were overhead.

The doors were locked. She snuck around the perimeter of the building, back to the wall like a secret agent looking for 'weak spots' in its structure. A rusty air vent grate hung loose from one of its fasteners. Excellent! She was tall enough to pull herself through after lugging over a rock to step on. The grate on the other end came off with surprisingly little resistance and she happily tumbled face-first onto the glorious air-conditioned sales floor, where she made a beeline for the icebox next to the checkout counter, slipping her head inside, letting out a pleasurable sigh, and then curling her body up on the floor next to it. This was perfect. The only thing that could make this whole situation any more perfect, she thought out loud, was if she encountered a certain someone in her dreams.

Her first encounter with a 'local' was far from that, though. She groggily opened her eyes to see a slack-jawed cashier, freshly into work, staring down at her. In a flash, she reached for her head, popped it back on, and theatrically looked over the other ice creams.

"I'm aliiiive!" she gasped, feigning lightheadedness. "My brethren," she addressed the inanimate frozen treats, scooping a couple of them into her arms, "why only me? Why have you not all been awakened to the glory of sapience?"

When no answer came, she leaned over the icebox for a moment like a grieving widow at a military funeral, pretended to steel herself, and then ran out of the store and into the woods via the automatic door.

AFTERNOON 1: INTO THE WOODS

With a spring in her step and a sparkle in her eyes, Sarah whistled some nameless tune all the way down the forest path. Was it for fun? To occupy her mind? To stave off hunters? To stave off monsters? To attract monsters? She didn't know for sure, but she also didn't need a rationale to continue with it. Whatever ended up happening would be swiftly rationalized as part of her plan. When the forest stopped being creepily sunny and started being sunnily creepy, she sat down on a rock and started on one of the popsicles she had grabbed earlier. It was strawberry flavored and if Sarah tried hard enough she could make out some faint differences between this universe's strawberry flavor and her own universe's strawberry flavor... or, on second thought, that probably just came down to the brand.

"It would be a shame if my peaceful lunch in the scary forest was interrupted," she spoke out loud to no one in particular, hoping that, as was typical for cartoons, something would happen right afterwards. It was almost a letdown when nothing did.

As dusk set in, she wandered the forest in search of a birch tree, failed to locate any, and fell asleep eventually on the roots of an evergreen tree, driven not by fatigue but by a simple desire to dream. She did have a dream that night. It was about a meteor impact on Elmore, only when the meteor came down instead of spreading fire and destruction it made all of the computers and TVs in town start playing loud dubstep. Sarah was a member of the task force dispatched to chop up the metaphor and eat it (which seemed sensible in the dream but was confusing upon waking up).

DAY 2: THE TREES HAVE EYES

Sarah noticed a small anthill near her sleeping tree when she woke up. The ants, going about their day, were a good metaphor for... something. She didn't really know what and her creative juices weren't flowing fast enough today to push her to come up with something. She was melting a little. As one ant trotted aimlessly around in a search for food, she noticed something odd: none of the ants had approached her yet, and she, a self-proclaimed tall drink of 50% water, 15% sugar, and 45% dairy, had been sleeping there for at least five or six hours. 'That's alright,' she thought, 'the ants here are probably weird like everything else.'

Part of her mind told her the ants weren't the problem.

Just 10 minutes from the sleeping spot was a small grove of birch trees and their adjacent cave. This place, she decided, would be her hideout! Exploring the cave, though, Sarah discovered a giant spider with human feet on the ends of its eight legs, heard it hiss territorially at her, and quickly changed her earlier decision. The rest of the day was spent scouting out other caves, none of which were quite as eventful (though she did spot some small footprints that could have belonged to some distant gnome), and she topped it off with a rather one-sided wrestling contest against several angry raccoons over what had seemed a worthy prize: a bucketload of discarded food from the dumpster out back of Greasy's Diner. It was delicious- the victory, that is. The food, on the other hand, was mediocre. And all of it tasted like coffee.

MORNING 3: DISTANT ENCOUNTERS

As the wee hours of the morning on the third day dragged on, Sarah, an early riser, donned "her" top hat and bow tie and her eye patch, left the shallow cave she had slept in the previous night, and trudged out to sit out by the edge of the lake, its subsurface disappointingly free of any visible lake monsters. The moonlight made the whole thing awfully serene, just like a painting in the waiting room of a doctor's office. Sarah couldn't help but skip a small stone across the surface. When it hit the water and sunk on first contact, she remembered with a heavy heart that she did not actually know how to skip a stone. That had once been a source of trauma and/or drama in her childhood; a friend from Richwood Elementary, a well-off human girl, had invited her to a lake house birthday party and the girl's snooty parents had nearly laughed her off the property when she came in last in their stone-skipping contest. She had never really fit in, but that was okay because of uniqueness, or something. That lake house had been in the 2D part of town. This town was in the 2D part of the multiverse. Something about the view brought her back.

When a group of rowdy early-bird fishers pulled up by the lake with a boat strapped haphazardly on top of their truck, rather than going and saying hi like she had been urging herself to do despite her appearance, Sarah fled into the woods clutching the hat for dear life. In retrospect the group of middle-aged men probably would not have been enthusiastic about greeting her for multiple reasons, but what citizen would be? No, she needed to wait for the right moment. Now she was just worried that moment might never come.

AFTERNOON 3: CATCHING FLIES WITH IMITATION IS THE SINCEREST FORM OF FLATTERY

The ground would be her canvas and that big stick over there would be her brush. On second thought, maybe her finger would be her brush, because the stick didn't allow her the sort of control she needed to make three letters fit neatly inside a tiny heart. A heart... there was something else she had meant to draw, but what? Oh! Right.

After a few minutes of sloppy work there were eyes of providence in a circle around the clearing, with legs, arms, and accessories for good measure. Sarah hoped this would be an effective 'trap' for the object of her makeshift summons even without the Latin incantation, but the afternoon was still young, and she had to make use of her time effectively. What did that even mean at a time like this? She had no concrete plans, just a bunch of tiny idea fragments. She decided, staring at the watchful eyes around her, that she would go through all her ideas from least to most embarrassing. Everyone liked exponentially escalating hijinks.

The first act was a monologue. She took up the old adage and imagined a naked audience to replace the nonexistent audience before her. It helped with the nervousness, or maybe she didn't have any nervousness to begin with, but either way it was absent by the time she hit her stride.

"...And that's why i think there should be more shoujo love interests with huge biceps. Anyways, you ever wondered why anybody would choose to have one eye?" she asked, pausing for an imaginary burst of laughter and flipping up her eye patch. "Of course, I don't mean to insult anybody who doesn't have a choice. But if you do have a choice? I mean, c'mon. I'd love to interview some shapeshifting one-eyed guy about that someday, but of course nobody's listening." Another pause, a slow sweeping look at her surroundings, a glance over at the eye patch. "I just wear this thing to look cool! Maybe that's why someone would choose that. Am I a hypocrite? I might be a hypocrite."

The second act was jokes. She told a few of her many memorized puns related to herself ("What does ice cream do when it gets stressed? It has a meltdown!") and then filled time with a particularly long and winding joke about a monk that ended with an unsatisfying punchline. The fun of that one was considerably lessened without the groans that always followed her telling it back home. The capstone on her set began with "My ex wife still misses me," followed by a tangent about whether it was even appropriate to tell jokes that start on false premises about the teller, whether joke plagiarism applied to informal conversations, and ultimately whether a tree that fell in the forest with no one to hear it would make a sound. The punchline to that final joke never arrived because she had forgotten where the conversation began.

The third act was music. Sarah's vocal chops were better suited to calmer, quieter, and/or creepier tunes than the loud and flashy showman-esque renditions she was now attempting to put on with her stick in hand as a makeshift cane. The first song she had in mind was We'll Meet Again, but the second she opened her mouth, it dawned on her that she did not know the entire thing, just about half of the chorus. She pivoted to another similar song with Daisy Bell and then in an entirely different direction with a few of her favorite vocal synthesizer tunes, a few of which she had memorized in half-mangled Japanese and then another few that were in English. Halfway through a high note, she noticed with awe that a few animals had taken notice of her singing. A few beady-eyed birds, a raccoon (who looked familiar, maybe from her battle the previous night), and two deer- scratch that, upon closer inspection it was one deer with a head at each end and no backside- stood by the clearing watching her go. So this was what it felt like to be a Disney princess... or, really, less of a Disney princess and more of a Disney forest hermit.

"Thank you for coming out tonight," she said, and then she realized a moment later than her subconscious that night had fallen. The animals scattered when she sat down to take a short rest, and suddenly her motivation, momentarily buffed by the presence of actual tangible beings other than herself, was mostly gone.

A bit more walking from the art clearing yielded yet another cave, and a peek inside the cave, past the waterfall that hid its entrance, yielded yet another disappointment. This one at least had the additional security of both a few large boulders and the waterfall, the flow sound of which changed when someone passed through it, and so she accepted that there were too many caves to find that cave easily and laid down to see if her performance earlier that day would bear fruit. It didn't. In fact, if she dreamed at all, she didn't remember it.

DAY 4: THE INTRUDER

Sarah was hungry. Not eat-your-own-leg hungry, but hungrier than she had been for, what, weeks? Months? It had been a little over 24 hours since her last meal, and that last meal in question was coffee-spiked all-day breakfast food out of a dumpster, so not exactly the sort of soul-nourishing thing she needed for a lite survivalist lifestyle. She beat the sun into the town proper and glanced tentatively at the diner, which made her stomach drop and alleviated the hunger a little as a result.

It was difficult to both walk casually into town and constantly dart behind lampposts and buildings to avoid the gazes of the citizens, especially with no destination in sight. After who-knows-how-many minutes of Red Light, Green Light, Sarah's eyes fell upon a mansion on a hill in the distance, and, using a technique no doubt more common in Elmore than here, she ducked behind one building far from the mansion and popped out from behind another building closer to it. One or two short fence hops later she stood before the mansion, staring up at a window that hung open just a crack, wondering what sorts of food the pantry of a place like this might have in store.

On one hand, this was the wrong house to come to for someone like her who was not a fan of taxidermy or getting lost; on the other hand, this was the wrong universe to come to for someone like her who was not a fan of taxidermy or getting lost. With a deep breath and all of her mild-hunger-fueled athleticism, she used the rope from the van to lasso the latch of the open window, used a combination of a few lucky footholds and her height to ascend the side of the house, and pulled herself over the threshold into what she soon realized was a very occupied bedroom. Her eyes met the occupant's eyes. She couldn't tell who it was- their eyes were the only things visible in a field of pitch black.

"Who-" said a youthful voice from the direction of the other two eyeballs.

"You're dreaming," said Sarah, darting for the bedroom door. As soon as probably-cifica (whose identity Sarah was really making an educated guess about) saw Sarah's unusual silhouette in the doorway, she must have figured the dream explanation was more likely than an actual giant ice cream cone in her house, because she didn't attempt to make chase. The pantry was easy enough to find (perhaps the family had more than one?) and, after spraying edible gold dust on the security cameras, Sarah made off through a garbage chute with a whole roast-ready duck, a pint of caviar-flavored frozen yogurt, and a few bags of imported chips with a fancy French name she couldn't read.

She took a different route back to the cave this time and noticed a few footprints that weren't hers. A clearing with several suspicious, near-hidden pit traps caught her eye, and she made sure to watch her step.

DAY 5: THE OTHER INTRUDER

What time was it? She didn't know for sure, and there was no sunlight in the little muddy crevasse she had made for herself between two easily-pushed boulders. She shoved another chip into her mouth and chewed quietly. The good thing about chips was they could be eaten at breakfast, lunch, or dinner, as well as between meals as a snack, so it didn't really matter what time it was.

Why was she huddled up? Well, only a few hours earlier a set of footsteps had echoed outside- and then inside- the cave, and she had taken measures to hide herself from prying eyes. It had apparently worked. The intruder was deterred, right? Maybe it was an animal. Maybe it was a person. What if somebody owned this cave and she was just a trespasser?

It was like the universe responding to her thoughts when the sound of the waterfall changed. It didn't go back to normal, either. Someone was sitting in the flow, and they weren't leaving. Why would anybody do that? To train for a big battle? To meditate (for a big battle)? Nah, unlikely. She poked her head up from behind one muddy boulder and snuffed a near-gasp with her hands. The person (or not a person?) meditating (or not meditating?) in the waterfall was three-dimensional. No, no, not just that, she recognized the back of his head. A sense of loneliness she didn't even know she was swamped with crumbled around her as she stepped up to him.

"Rob?" she asked. He was repeating something incoherently to himself and apparently didn't hear her over the sound of the rushing water. That was alright. She reached out in what was supposed to be a friendly pat on the shoulder, but the force of the falling water made it really more of a slap...

She didn't have time to cover her ears before he shrieked so loud there was a mini-earthquake inside the cave and darted off into the distance. She wasn't planning to follow him, really, at least not until she had the chance to clean off the mud and get out of her two-item cosplay, but her eyes fell on the crowbar that had fallen from his backpack in his confusion, and she suddenly had a conversational 'in'. That was always the goal when getting to know people. Then again, if you were desperate enough for interaction, you could fabricate an 'in' from practically anything, like entering a conversation about grades with a, "woah, we could be study buddies! Who knows? it might turn into something more." That one hadn't worked. What was she doing even thinking about this? She needed to get the crowbar back to Rob!

Thankfully, the waterfall was almost like a 5-second shower, and she only needed to stand in it for a second to get most of the mud (and a bit of herself) off. There were wet footprints in the forest dirt for her to follow. "Who knows?" she said to herself, or to nobody in particular. "Maybe this could be the start of a great friendship."

Several weeks on, Sarah still didn't know if what they had was great or a friendship, but it sure helped the existential dread to think of it that way. She looked down at the tapes and thought to herself, no looking back, no looking back, no more looking back.

[mybrainsrottingwithmcd]

hi!! so i’m. really really new to the aphmau fandom, aka i was super into it when i was like 8 and now my autistic ass got back into and actually joined in fandom stuff

i don’t. entirely understand how to guide through the aphmau fandom on tumblr. and i have a few questions- if you wouldn’t find can you answer them for me since you seem to be super into this!

what is an MCD rewrite and where do i find them- i assumed it’s people rewriting minecraft diaries but what sparked this and why?

what’s with the hate for aaron and aarmau- i don’t. fully understand it

how did garroth/lawrence happen (i love the idea)

is there like. a masterlist of aphmau lore somewhere so i can make sure i didn’t miss anything in my rewatch (i definitely missed stuff in my rewatch)

Hello hello!! Welcome to the fandom (we’re so sorry ur here its a mess)

I’d be happy to answer ur questions :D

“what is an MCD rewrite and where do i find them- i assumed it's people rewriting minecraft diaries but what sparked this and why?”

Yeah you’re right a MCD rewrite is people rewriting MCD and adding their own ships or improvements or different plot points. It started because the original MCD is kinda written poorly. Some plot points go nowhere, some parts are problematic, some parts drag on, characters appear and disappear, characters stopped developing and most importantly MCD has no ending and was abruptly discontinued by Jess so she could focus on Mystreet and other projects. People just wanna improve and finish the thing that means so mich to them basically. You can find them on AO3 and a few on Wattpad (I recommend AO3 tho its easier to find rewrites ur interested in cuz the tag system)

“what's with the hate for aaron and aarmau- i don't. fully understand it”

(There arent enough words in this world to explain my hatred for aarmau and aaron BUT)

Many reasons heres the main few: when Aaron was introduced he was supposed to be a side character but then he became a love interest kinda outta nowhere (my theory as to why is because Jess’s husband Jason voices him) and when he did become a love interest other characters like Laurence and Garroth kinda stopped developing and became worse to justify why Aaron was a good choice for Aphmau. For me they never had any chemistry in MCD, when its revealed Aphmau is pregnant with Aaron’s kid my brain logged out because wtffff how did they find the time and also why Aaron ://. He wasn’t kinda boring, his angsty past could’ve been used more but wasn’t he was just a brooding masked figure who followed Aphmau around. Then Pheonix Drop High happened and made things really weird. So when Aaron was 18 going on 19 he started dating Aphmau who was 14. Very creepy much yuck, they didn’t communicate well and then his whole character became that he’s in love with Aphmau but “he’s just not good enough for her :((“ and “i shouldn’t be with her shes perfect” and personally i find romance dramas infuriating, especially that kind of drama. AND YES AS A 18YR OLD U SHOULDNT BE DATING A 14YR OLD WELL DONE AARON. Mystreet they were the annoying lovey dovey couple with relationship drama they just rubbed me the wrong way in that series, I stopped watching after Emerald Secret and only recently forced myself to finish Mystreet and yeah no idc about them or their relationship. In MCD season 3 when Shad was introduced as a full character his whole thing is he’s Aaron again but evil and Aphmau’s sad about it and uuuuugg i dont caaareee. And I personally thought Aphmau wasn’t gunna end with anyone in MCD because she went on multiple rants about how that isn’t what she’s looking for and she has to think about her people first and she prefers her own company and then BOOM gets pregnant of masky mcsad face. Ugh. Basically Aaron ruined everything.

(Aroacemau truther 4 life aarmau hater 4 life)

“how did garroth/lawrence happen (i love the idea)”

Garrence has been a ship since the characters were introduced and quite simply its because they have more chemistry together than with Aphmau. I’ve always been a lil uncomfortable with how Jess wrote Laurence and Aphmau’s interactions and Garroth and Aphmau’s interactions but Garroth and Laurence interactions were just more natural they had more banter they were sweet together. Then Jess did a bunch of queerbaiting with it and the ship got bigger, so many fanarts so many fanfics. Then it just never happened because Jess is a coward. Like it would’ve been so nice to see the hints and chemistry go somewhere but it didn’t. Everyone still holds hope tho. With rewrites Garrence is Canon :))

“is there like. a masterlist of aphmau lore somewhere so i can make sure i didn't miss anything in my rewatch (i definitely missed stuff in my rewatch)”

i have no idea on that one, i’ve rewatched MCD every other week for the past 8 years (autism go brrrrr) i’ve never had to look for a masterlist of lore BUT I’m sure someone has to have compiled one somewhere either on the fandom wiki or on Tumblr somewhere. :))

ANYWAYS YEAH WELCOME TO HELL HAVE FUN HERE

[color-cacophony]

I was going to make a Big Official Review Post about Rayman in the Phantom Show but I don't really have enough complete thoughts to make something comprehensive and organized, but I still want to share some points from my experience with it so uhhh without further ado, here's a bunch of thoughts on what dazzled me and what I thought could have been done better.

Here I go...

I'll start with the stuff that bugged me first because I don't like to end on a bad note:

I think the biggest issue is that giving the player the option to complete each set in any order diminishes the opportunity to have a linear story. Without a series of events building up to the finale, the actual climax doesn't feel as grand or substantial as it should be (it definitely feels like a few lines were cut from the moments before Phantom's first verse with how abruptly it starts). It would have felt more immersive to see actual scenes of the heroes trying to play their roles and have more varied quests based on puzzles or even characters and dialogue (like the search for Sweetlopek's stolen axe), all whilst gradually putting the pieces together that they were led into a trap.

Speaking of putting the pieces together, it would've paid off to have Beep-0 learn from his own arrogance in the past instead of repeating his assertion that he knew what Phantom was up to all along. That part made me kind of sad because I really like Beep-0 and it seemed like they were setting him up to eventually become less uptight and more open to admitting his mistakes, which would be more satisfying and obvious!

As we all know, Beep-0 isn't the only one who repeated himself. I remember an exchange I had with @randomrabbidramblings about our predictions for what would happen in the climax; they were hoping the final showdown with Phantom would not be redundant with his first encounter, having the same battle gimmick as before. Unfortunately that is, in fact, what they ended up doing. While framing it as Phantom being unoriginal or making a callback helps it a little bit, ultimately it made me feel let down (although I love Beep-0's delivery when he reiterates his line from Kingdom Battle. he means business).

As for the aftermath of the battle, I want to know where Phantom went. There doesn't seem to be any sign of him anywhere in the studio. It's really odd, given how this was supposed to be his grand comeback (alongside Rayman, of course), but we don't get even a simple explanation of what happened to him after he was defeated for the second time, unless I missed something. I presume this is his last major appearance in a game (unless they decide to do something completely different with him in the distant future??? wishful thinking but not ruling it out!), so it's a strangely underwhelming and mysterious send-off to our beloved ghostly diva. I would have been bummed that we didn't get lore paintings for him, but the memory entry summarizing his surprisingly short-lived career actually made me laugh and honestly, the thought of him only releasing one album and becoming so well-known just because he's notoriously a huge jerk and a producer of incredibly terrible films is so in-character for him.

Another choice I found unusual was the lack of any explanation as to how he got his voice back, since it's been established that he screwed it up by overdoing it. Although, they must have dismissed it knowing that not everyone is going to find the mural containing the only source of that detail. His voice could have healed over time anyway, but it just doesn't entirely make sense that they don't acknowledge it at all (I did see @bramble-scramble 's post mentioning a detail @randomrabbidramblings pointed out where a gramophone can be seen in a box in the studio's control room and it is supposedly the one Phantom replaced with a new one when he messed it up, but even if that's true, it's still a bit easy to miss).

I understand that a lot of these issues were due to restraints since it's only a DLC and they could only fit so much in, but that goes to show that this concept is a little too big for a DLC, but not quite big enough for a full game.

Now, for the things I loved...

I must give massive props to the artists and animators for taking reference from multiple Rayman games and essentially making the pinnacle of his goofiness. Rayman was HIGHLY entertaining to see (and listen to, thanks to David Gasman) and very lovable in this! And the way his dynamic with Rabbid Peach and Rabbid Mario changes up until the end where he becomes friends with them and realizes that he can work with the Rabbids now instead of against them it's just 🥺 awgh... It feels cheesy to talk about it but it really does make me happy now that Rayman has a chance to be an equal to the Rabbids and have something resembling a mutual understanding.

I appreciate them bringing back characters from the main game and giving them their own sets. Fittingly enough, it's like a curtain call for the final installment of SoH.

The return of Beep-0's swearing. SERIOUSLY IT'S SUCH A SMALL THING BUT IT DELIGHTED ME

The studio's lobby is gorgeous. Absolutely STUNNING I love all the details and the music notation motifs on everything.

Honestly the rest of this is just going to be me gushing about Phantom hehehe...

First of all, I was completely awestruck at the decision to give him a swing/jazz sequence because I love the aesthetic of the whole sassy big band musical number kind of thing so when I saw that Phantom was going to do that I went INSANE. The animation in the song sequences is absolutely top tier. Phantom is ALL OVER THE PLACE, very charming, very energetic. The swing bit made me realize just how unbelievably coordinated he is. Like when he's zipping and spinning around the stage and it doesn't affect his singing at all? Holy crap. Then, I went even MORE insane when rock/metal Phantom showed up. I would have wanted a verse in that style too, but I get that it was cut because it would mess up the pacing of the battle.

I love Phantom's inability to contain his excitement at the start of the battle, his annoyed lines when you destroy the lights, his smug remarks even when he's taking damage. He's just so- I'm just gonna say it- so freaking cute in this! His line deliveries in general made me fall so hard for him, especially "were you EVER a thing, Rayman?". The way he drops his voice sounds so cool...

Regarding his abilities, I thought they were going to explain why he could turn people to stone in Kingdom Battle, but they simply took that detail away. I don't have a big problem with this, as the Stone Deaf ability could have been part of the Megabug's influence (and it makes him at least a bit less OP lol). I'm also satisfied to finally know that he can indeed phase through things like any other ghost and isn't limited to just teleporting.

His death acting has definitely improved since last time, in that it's silly and makes me smile instead of just making me feel embarrassed lol.

So uummmm yeah that's all the noteworthy stuff I can think of! Overall I thought the DLC was delightful during my playthrough, but after I finished it I felt kind of sad because it just didn't feel "thorough". However, given that Sparks of Hope generally improved on so many aspects from the last game, I'm confident that they'll keep adding and experimenting with more characterizations and scenarios and make something even better if they decide to continue with Mario + Rabbids. And even if they don't, we'll always have the amazing fans to continue the story and put even more wonder into this wild crossed-over universe!

Anyway, thank you for reading through this highly disorganized rant/gush! And while I'm at it, thank you to everybody in the Mario + Rabbids community for making such amazing art and just being here to share our love for the series. That means thank you to @randomrabbidramblings @bramble-scramble @salamifuposey @hostess-of-horror @phandrow @pastelprince18 @critterzone13 @hostdoozy @majorpepperidge and more! You guys are super cool and I appreciate you even though I've never directly interacted with all of you, hehe. I suppose all I have left to say is goodnight, so goodnight/day everyone! Until next time I decide to dump more nonsense onto your dashboard :D