#or even worse that they can Pick And Choose who to treat well

[seospicybin]

DON'T THEY KNOW IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD?

PART I

Lee know x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II

Synopsis: Making a contact with an ancient object, you meet a demon who takes form of the man you desired and forces you to commit terrible acts to stop the world from ending. (14k words)

Author's note: I indulge myself with a spooky fic and demon Minho in it. Read with cautions and enjoy x

Based on an episode of Black Mirror. Content warnings: Violence, gore, mentions of abuse, assaults and graphic imagery. Reader's discretion is advised!

"Carving is easy. You just go down to the skin and stop." - Michelangelo

-

Oh, no! You're doing it again.

When you think you're talking in your head, you're actually talking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. It's even worse that your voice is echoing in the big chamber of the empty gallery.

They seem to not care about it or pretend to because Kim has just walked in to check everyone's work. She's your friend from art school turns an art dealer and she has a way to control everyone around her.

"I told you to let us do it for you," she says, clicking her tongue at you and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The gallery is having some of your pieces of art displayed for the exhibition tonight and you want to make sure that they're presented the way you envisioned it.

You carefully step down the ladder and stand next to Kim, looking at the sculpture you made of a man holding an arrow with an apple stuck at the end of the arrow.

You hear Kim dreamily sigh then look at you, "You're going to sell..." She pauses to emphasize the word she's going to say next, "Big!"

Money isn't the reason why you create these sculptures but you need it in order to keep being able to do this. You have no idea how expensive a block of stone is!

The reason why you made these sculptures is because this is what you love doing: envision your imagination onto a block of stone and you carve it to bring it to life.

Why did you choose stone as the medium? Because they're durable, stubborn yet resilient. It takes time to create one sculpture but once you've seen the result, you forget about the hard work behind it.

Kim puts her hand on your shoulder and snaps you out of your reverie, "Stop worrying about your sculptures," she says.

She turns you around to force you to face her and puts her other hand on your shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Put some color on those cheeks. Have a pre-party with a glass of wine or two."

Dressing up sounds like a lot of work, you'd rather stay in your dungarees and striped top, "Can I just wear these?"

It's like she has just heard someone dies, Kim's hand flies to her temple and screws her eyes shut for a second, "Trust me when I say that the people coming tonight wouldn't expect the artist behind these magnificent sculptures to look like Chucky," she says with a sneering smile.

She squeezes your shoulder and tilts her head to the side, "And that's me putting it the nicest way possible because you're my friend."

It's still a mystery how you ended up friends with someone like Kim, she's the opposite of what you are, an extrovert, a tolerable narcissist, she likes attention and is forthright to the point it's borderline insolent. You're so used to her audacious way of treating you and the blunt words that come out of her red-lipped mouth.

She's been like this even before you met her and you are the friend who likes to suffer in silence, you think that's why you became friends. Nevertheless, Kim treats you better than she treats anyone else for that matter.

That explains why the gallery staff are so afraid of her. It's always best to get out of her way unless she wants you to be there. You pick up your bag from the floor along with your jacket.

"I'll go then," you meekly say.

She grabs your elbow before leaving, "Go home," she says with a glare.

"Home. Not your studio," she says again, making it clear to you.

She knows you well enough to know that you like spending your days in your studio instead of your apartment. You sling the strap of your bag on one shoulder, "Go home. Get dressed. Come to the exhibition late," you repeat the things she wanted you to do.

Kim smiles and gently cups your cheek, "Good girl. Now go!"

Once you get home though, you spend hours just sitting in the emptiness that lingers in your apartment that is too big for one person to live in it.

This is why you prefer to stay in your studio, you like to keep your head occupied rather than being alone with your thoughts like this.

And your thoughts, they're mostly of unkind things and...

Your phone rings from inside your bag and steers your mind back to your head. Without having to look at it, you can tell who it is. There are no other people who call you daily except, well, if it's an emergency call.

"Are you getting ready yet?" Kim goes straight to the point.

"Uh... yeah, I just showered, I—" you jolt awake from lying down on the sofa.

"I'm having problems picking what to wear," you add a laugh in the hope of sounding convincing.

There's a wave of laughter from her end of the phone call before Kim talks to the phone, "Stop joking. Do you like it?"

You get completely confused because she suddenly compliments herself out of the blue, "Huh? What?"

You can hear her dramatic, low sigh and you can imagine her subtle eye roll as she's doing it, "The dress. The one I hung in your closet," she tells you.

You quietly trudge your way to the closet and open it to find the said dress.

"Yes, it's beautiful!" You hurriedly say, not wanting to let her get suspicious as she waits for a response.

"Aren't you lucky to have me as your friend?" she exclaims, sounding so confident with her words.

"I am the luckiest," you tell her as you observe the dress and already regretting hastily approving the dress as you notice it has a plunging neckline.

"I know," she brags and her smirk flashes through your head.

In the background, you hear something is calling her and Kim answers with a shout, "I'm coming."

She dramatically sighs before talking to you, "Work is calling. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, see you tonight!" You're more than relieved to end the phone call with her.

It's too early to celebrate as she hasn't ended the call yet and she always ends the call first. You have an inkling that she'll call your name.

Indeed, she is.

"Hey, don't forget to take your meds, okay?" She says.

That's probably the only yet the most endearing thing she does to you and what makes her your friend.

"Yeah, don't worry about it," you tell her.

It's time to fully assess the dress and you're in awe of how much skin you'll show if you're wearing this. Of course, you have the option not to wear but it all comes down to wearing the dress or facing Kim's wrath.

The former seems to be the safer choice and also because you're not a confrontational person, you like to avoid conflict.

Not wearing the dress means you're going straight into conflict and you don't want that.

With a defeated spirit, you put the dress on even though you have no idea how to move in such a tight dress. You summon up your below-average make-up skill for tonight and put some colors on you.

Not forgetting Kim's words, you take your medicine and wash it down with a long gulp of water. You give yourself a few minutes as you wait for the medicine to work while you sit on the couch holding a glass of water in both hands, staring out at the view from your apartment.

Kim insisted you take this apartment when you're okay with living in the studio. Not only that it's too expensive of a place to live on your own but a big place only makes you inexplicably lonely.

However, after seeing the view from up here, you feel like you're not part of this world in the most humbling way. Seeing the city and the buildings look like pieces of block makes you realize that they don't matter that much. They're all just... material things.

You sigh as you get hit by a wave of melancholia and you take it that the medicine is working.

-

Uncomfortable walking out of your apartment in your dress, you put on a coat as you leave the apartment with the sounds of your heels clicking against the floor.

The owner of the building passed away yesterday, there are so many guests visiting the penthouse where he lived. The first elevator that arrives on your floor is crowded so you skip on getting on that one. You patiently wait for the next one to arrive while clutching your purse in front of you.

A minute later, the other elevator arrives and the doors slide open, you see there's someone else inside. You believe he's been from the penthouse from how he dressed in all black.

You look down to avoid eye contact and step inside, standing at the back of the limited space while trying not to look at the man's face on the reflection from the mirror that walled the elevator.

Arrived in the main lobby, the elevator dings open and the man doesn't waste time but walks out with hands shoved inside his coat pocket.

You fix your coat before stepping out and you feel your feet kicking on something, it's clattering across the floor. You bend down to pick it up, something that you guess is a pocket watch.

Your first thought is that it belongs to the man and you look around to see if he's still around to give it to him, but he's nowhere. It's as if he's gone with the wind.

"Miss, your driver has been waiting outside!" The concierge informs you from behind his desk the second he sees you.

"Yes. I'm coming!" You hurriedly shove the pocket watch inside your purse.

As Kim instructed, you come late to the exhibition and it's already filled with people dressed so impeccably for the occasion. You take a deep breath before entering the scene that is the least you wanted to be.

You take your coat off and hand it to the girl handling the coat check, along with your purse. You feel naked even though you're not, but it's not just the dress, being in the crowd is not your forte.

The first thing to do in a situation like this is to find Kim. You avoid making contact with everyone you're walking past as you look for her in the crowd. It's not hard to spot her when she's always the center of attention anywhere she is.

"There she is!" She gasps the moment she sees you're coming her way.

She puts away her champagne flute and walks up to you, embracing you like the trophy you are, "My rising star!"

Kim puts her hand on the small of your back and smiles brightly while discreetly judging your look.

"Isn't she amazing?" She brags you off to the group of people she's talking to.

You can only sheepishly smile next to her and avoid everyone's eyes.

"She is the artist behind those magnificent sculptures," she adds with that saccharine smile of hers.

They're starting to throw praises at you and you can hear all of them talking at once, making you more uncomfortable staying in there.

You take a step back but Kim's hand does not allow you to escape, she glances at you and takes the cue.

"Excuse us," Kim says to everyone, "Enjoy the exhibition!"

Kim steers you away and pulls you aside, before you can comment on her choice of dress, she snatches the chance from you.

"You could've picked nicker shoes," she whispers through her gritted teeth at you.

You automatically look down to see your heeled shoes which you think match the dress you're wearing.

"I–I think it's—"

She cuts through your words, not giving you a chance to explain. She grabs you by the elbow, "We have no time to change it," she says, then steers you somewhere.

As Kim continues to brag you around like you're the art piece instead of the artist, you start to get that feeling that she's using you.

As a matter of fact, she used you to propel her career as an art dealer. Ever since you agreed to let her sell your art for you, her career took off.

You're more than happy to be of help but she does everything extra and she's been taking you to meet a lot of people that their faces started to blur and it's getting overwhelming that you need to get out of it.

"I'll just—" You barely finish your sentence when you walk away and find somewhere to gain some composure.

You keep walking until you find the restroom and push yourself inside, lock yourself in one of the stalls just sit on the toilet, and just breathe.

You hear the ruckus outside the stall and someone probably needs to use the toilet, you reluctantly get up to start heading outside.

The plan to leave unnoticed comes to a failure when Kim is already there right outside the restroom, "Where have you been?"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and try to explain, "Kim, I don't think I can do this anymore. I—"

Then again, she never let you finish your sentence, "One more. I need you to meet your new potential buyer."

You grip the side of your dress and you feel like tearing it apart, "No, Kim. You know how I do with people, I don't— I just want to go home," you desperately tell her just to let you go when you're an adult and can do whatever you want.

Kim lets out an exaggerated huff and sends her fringe flying off her forehead, crossing her arms in front of her and you know what's coming for you.

"You think I'm doing this for me?" She asks.

Actually, yes. The initial plan is to sell your art but in the end, she makes it all about her.

"I'm doing it for you!" She says, turning it all on to you. She always finds a way to turn it all on to you, making you feel guilty and defeated.

Talking back to her means that you're saying yes to war and you don't want to fight a losing fight. You fist the fabric of your dress trying to suppress the anger brewing inside you.

"Just one more person," you meekly say.

Her face softens at the sign that you're once again giving her the power, "That's right. Just one more and I'll let you go."

You finally let go of your dress and you wipe your sweaty palm down the back of your dress as she guides you back to the gallery.

"All you have to do is stand next to me, smiling and explaining your art to people," Kim instructed like that wasn't what you've been doing all night.

Except that she forgot that you need to fake all of that.

Kim takes you to one of your sculpture displays and three people in suits have been waiting, talking with drinks in their hands.

"Hello, gentlemen," Kim says with an extra polite voice that makes you shudder at how fake she sounded.

"Heard you're looking for the amazing artist behind these beautiful sculptures?" She continues, presenting you like you're the one who's about to get sold, not the sculpture.

One of the three seems to be the one in charge with a stance that oozes confidence and power, a smirk that only someone who grew up with a silver spoon stuck to his mouth can master. He looks years older than you but his face shows no fine lines but that's just because he never had to frown in his life.

"I adore your art so much," he praises with a teeth-baring smile.

Kim turns at you and introduces him, "This is Nicholas de Ville from the de Ville family."

The way she enunciated his last name only means that this person holds importance and she expects you to impress him.

He holds his hand out next with an expensive, shining wristwatch decorated his wrist, "I'm Nicholas de Ville. You can call me Nick."

He may seem nice and polite because all privileged people learn manners but they only apply that lesson in real life occasionally.

You take his hand or else Kim will force you to do it. You shake his hand for a while and accidentally meet his gaze as you try to take your hand back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. de Ville!" You say as politely as you can.

"Nick, please!" He insists with a smile.

"And the pleasure is all mine." He adds with a smile that says so many things and they send a chill down your spine.

Kim lets go of her hand and lightly touches you on your arm, "Mr. de Ville wants to know more about your sculptures so..." she quietly pushes you his way.

Nick courteously laughs and says, "Would you be kind enough to give me the tour?"

You consider it for a moment but seeing Kim's glare, you know you have no option.

"Yes, sure, I would love to," you answer with a strained smile.

"Great! Please, lead the way!" Nick says.

When you think the other two are coming with you, it's just you and Nick, walking through your sculptures and you explain each one without trying to bore him like Kim has taught you a few times.

"... it's inspired by the Greek mythology. The apple in the arrow means that when it comes to love, we know no rules, we follow our desires—"

Nick is too busy looking at you instead of looking at the sculpture you're tirelessly explaining to him. Guessing that he isn't interested, you stop talking altogether.

"I'm sorry if I'm rambling," you sheepishly say to him and keep looking at the sculpture.

"No, no, that's okay," Nick says with a smile and takes a stand close to you, also looking at the sculpture.

"Your art is as beautiful as you," he says.

You're getting uncomfortable at how close he is with his elbow brushing yours. You nervously swallow air and lowly mutter, "Thank you."

Nick takes it the wrong way. He takes it that you're replying to his flirtation when you thought he was earnestly complimenting you, he starts to place his hand on your shoulder.

You reflexively shrug his hand away but that only sends his hand down to your back where he can touch your exposed skin. As his fingers make contact with your skin, you take a step back until his hand drops.

"I'm sorry," you regret apologizing for something that you didn't do wrong.

He looks at you as if he didn't just do something wrong or touch you without your consent. You feel repulsed by yourself and take another step back, "I'm sorry, I just need to—"

You keep walking away, away and never looking back.

-

The musty smell and dust that hang in the air welcome you to the studio.

You take your dress off the first thing you do when you get there and put on any clothes you can find in the dresser, a black T-shirt and worn-out jeans.

You put your earrings inside your purse and the pocket watch you collected earlier spills out of it, falling onto the couch.

You're intrigued to see inside the locket to get a hint on who the owner is, you're trying so hard to open it with the strength you have but it won't budge.

Exhausted from trying to open the antique-looking object, you give up and walk over to the sculpture you're working on. You put the pocket watch down on the table next to your carving tools, then pick up a chisel and a hammer.

For every hit of the hammer, you feel like unleashing something that makes you feel lighter and lighter and makes you hit the chisel harder and harder.

You eventually get exhausted and take a step back, leaning against the table while looking at the unshapen block of stone in front of you.

You grope around for a bottle of water and take a sip, putting it down as you wipe your mouth after. Your fingers nudge something as you place your hand on the table, it's the pocket watch blinking under the fluorescent light.

It seems to be calling for you, inviting you to try and uncover the mystery inside.

Looking at the small chisel next to it, you decide to give it another try by prying it open with the chisel. You slip the sharp end in the crack and use your strength to push it open only for the chisel to slide to the slide, cutting the side of your finger.

You drop the pocket watch as blood drops from the wound onto the table. It's not the first time you injured yourself, you know what to do. You go to the bathroom, wash your finger under the running water then grab your first aid kit from the drawer.

After tending to your small injury, you decide to not continue working when you're angry. You take another sip of water and lie down on the couch.

With the quiet that hangs in the room, you slowly drift into sleep.

-

SEVEN DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD.

The darkness greets you even though you have opened your eyes.

Pretty sure you kept one of the lights on when you went to sleep but it's all dark now in the room, you can't see anything but lights that shine through the cracks of the blinds.

You slowly get up from the couch to turn the light on, carefully walking to where the switch is, and once you flip it, lights flood the room.

The first thing you see is the pocket watch that is now open, you walk over to the table and pick it up to see inside that it's just a normal watch but it doesn't have numbers on it like all watches have.

You close it and see that your blood tainted the lid, this time, you can easily open it without a hassle.

"Hello!" A voice says.

Surprised to hear a voice coming from it, you drop it back onto the table. A moment later, you laugh it off, thinking that you misheard it considering that you just woke up from sleep.

With hesitancy, you pick the pocket watch again and look at it. Your thumb wipes the glass cover of the watch.

"Hi, Hello, I'm Minho. I'm a demon. You anointed this talisman with your blood so now we're bound together and—"

It speaks again and in response, you hurl it across the room until it hits the wall and drops onto the floor. You stand there, frozen on your feet, and wonder...

"Look, I've got a whole introductory speech here," the voice says again, coming from the part of the room where the pocket watch is.

For protection, you stand behind the open bathroom door and look at the pocket watch talking like a lunatic you are.

"We got to work together," it says.

You whimper hearing the voice again and you know that it's real, you're not making this up.

"Can you pick me up? Just pick me up. Come on, pick me up! Please?" It demands.

You take cautious steps to get to where the pocket watch lies on the floor.

"That's it, come on. Come on. I won't bite, I promise. Come on," it says as if it could see that you're coming to pick it up.

You swallow air and slowly bend down to pick it up from the floor, holding the pocket watch in your hand.

"As I was saying, you anointed the talisman and the rules are you've got to carry out three human sacrifices over the next seven days or else the world is going to end," it speaks again.

That's a lot of information to take in, not to mention that you're already having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that the pocket watch is talking to you.

"W-what?" You breathlessly say.

"If you want me to help you, you need to permit me entry."

Entry? That sounds like a bad idea. You just stand there and look at the pocket watch.

"Do you permit me entry? Yes or no?" It asks.

You shake your head and convince yourself that maybe it is not real.

"You have to say yes. Just say the word yes."

This is not real, you tell yourself out loud.

"Or let's do this, if you say yes, I'll... I'll stop, okay? I'll go away. You'll never hear from me again like this didn't happen." It persuades.

This is not real, this is not real, you chant in your head.

"Just say yes. Say it! Say it. Say it. Say it," it chants louder and it starts to fill your head, endlessly echoing.

You want it to stop so you impulsively say, "Yes."

The chants stop and the light flickers off, filling the room with darkness again. You whimper in fear as the pocket watch starts ticking in your hand.

You hear something deeply breathing a few feet from behind you. Curious, you spin around on your feet to see what it is, but you can't see it as it's lurking in the dark

However, you feel good about not being able to see it as fear creeping up inside you. You walk backward until you hit the wall behind you.

"Hey, come on, what's the matter?" The thing says as he takes a step forward, revealing his form to you.

The first thing you can make out the shape of that thing is two long horns on his head and two red eyes.

"All right. I lied about going away," he says in a deep, growling voice.

"My regular appearance is a bit too much for this realm."

He takes a step back and disappears in the dark. After a while, he takes another step to the front and has already taken a different shape. He looks normal now, as in looking like a human and not just any human, he looks like...

"I peered into your soul and apparently, this is a physical look you find appealing so..." he says with his arms spread out and a proud grin on his face.

"I don't know. Let me have a look!" He walks over to the mirror hung on the wall next to you.

He looks just like the sculpture you made, he has a sharp nose, chiseled jaws, and a hair color as intense as red roses go. You feel a mix of fear, awe, and confusion inside and it's getting overwhelming.

He leans close to the mirror and fixes his hair, "Wow!"

He seems impressed by how he looks, "Okay, isn't it what you want?" He turns to you.

Not getting an answer from you, he smiles, then says, "Uh... I mean, I can work with this."

You can only whimper with your mouth parted open, having a hard time wrapping your head around this situation. If it's happening or not, is he real or not, did you take your meds or not?

"You have to calm down so we can talk. Just talk to me!" Minho says, noticing that you're in a state of panic.

For a split second, you see his eyes flash like those belonging to feline creatures, gleaming like two marbles in the dark. You can feel cold sweat on your back as you slump down against the wall until you're sitting down on the floor.

He squats down in front of you and reaches for your head but you're quick to dodge away from it.

"You know, we have got to work together," he assures you.

It's not fair that he has a face that came from your imagination, it gives you a sense of familiarity that lures you to give in. However, you're not sure if you should be giving in to him.

You bang the back of your head to the wall, close your eyes, and repeatedly chant like it's a mantra, "You're not real. You're not real. You're not real."

But that is not enough to expel him. You open your eyes and still find him there. hand and a grin.

"Like I said, we have got to work together," he tells you again.

To give you the space to gather your thoughts, he walks around the studio while talking, "You marked the talisman. I don't make the rules."

With the lights turning back on, your eyes can easily follow his figure going around the room and looking at the sculpture you're working on.

His fingers slowly graze the rough surface of the carved stone and then he turns his head at you.

"Basically, we need to deliver three human sacrifices by next Friday or else it's..." he informs you again as if you haven't heard him the first time, "burning skies time."

You can feel anxiety rising inside you and your throat is closing up, making it harder for you to breathe.

"I sense you need convincing. Uh..." Minho walks up to you again and offers his hands to you.

You look at his hands for a moment before letting him help you to get up from the floor. You imagine your hands reaching for fragments of your imagination but instead of that, you feel his warm skin and firm grip as he hoists you up until you're standing on your feet.

If he's not real then how can you hold him?

He looks at you for a second to make sure you're okay then nods, "Let me show you how this will play out, alright? What will happen if we don't succeed," he says.

He walks to stand behind you and puts a hand in front of your eyes, "You ready?" He asks, his hot breath fans your neck as he speaks.

You're not sure what he's asking you to get ready for. You're not even sure if you're living the reality right now.

"Ready?" He asks again and once again his breath tickles your ear.

"3, 2, 1!"

As if you're being transported to another time and place, you open your eyes to see fire. It's the studio but it is on fire.

"This is what we're dealing with!" Minho says but you can't see him anywhere.

Fire is everywhere and you can feel the heat of it burning your skin and thick smoke filling your lungs that you start coughing, retching for air.

"Scorching wall of flame. It's agonizing death for all and so on," he continues.

You're flailing around to get air, walking to the window to open it only to find it hot to touch and you see that the whole city burns with you. You hear people screaming and sirens blaring everywhere but anywhere you look, it's just blazing fire.

You get away from the window until your back hits the table behind you and snaps you back to reality. Your head turns to the side and see Minho there, leaning against the table next to you.

"See, burning people they smell like... a burnt slice of meat on a griddle. It's better if you dissociate from it," he coyly says.

The images are so vivid that you feel the need to escape it, run away from here and so you do. You make a run to the door and he's already standing there next to it.

"If we're being honest, I don't want the apocalypse to come about any more than you do," he says.

You turn the knob and open it, running through the hall that leads to the exit door. Yet Minho is already there too.

"So let's stop it happening, you and me, mmh?" He says to you.

"All we have to do is deliver three sacrifices in seven days," he pops at the end of the hall.

You yank the door open and find him standing outside the door.

"It's only three killings," he says with a malicious laugh.

You rush to climb down the steps trying to escape what you know is like trying to get out of your head, it's inescapable.

"Animals don't count. You have to do humans," Minho informs at the base of the stairs.

You hurriedly unlock the iron gate and pull it open, running into the street in the middle of the night but of course, he's already there too.

"We can do like one kill a day but I'm good with one kill in two days and—"

You decide to go the other way from where Minho is standing and just aimlessly walking to avoid him. You know the neighborhood but not as good as when it's at night.

You walk down the stairs that lead to the riverbank, feeling more afraid of Minho instead of being mugged at night.

"That is fewer people than die falling off ladders in the same time period," Minho magically appears on the stairs, leaning against the railing.

"You'd be less lethal than a ladder," he adds with a sly smirk.

Your eyes are watery either from the cold wind or the anxiety taking over you. You sniffle before talking to him, "If I talk to you, you're real so I'm not going—"

You walk away before you can finish your sentence and walk along the riverbank, hugging yourself.

"Well, we started conversing already so that ship has sailed."

You can't believe that he's still following you when he knows exactly why you are trying to get away.

"No, it hasn't," you persist when you know he's right.

"Oh, oh yes it has," he talks back with a mocking tone.

You stop on your track and grunt in frustration, bending down to pick whatever is close to you.

Minho stops walking as well and says, "Don't worry. We're a team. I'm on your side, you know?"

He takes a step forward and keeps talking, ignoring that he's the reason why you're so frustrated.

"Let's just get kill number one under your belt, mmh?" He says in a softer tone.

You turn at him, your finger pointing right at his sharp nose and sternly tell him, "You can stop it because I am not killing anyone!"

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and try to face him again, "You're not real so I don't why you keep talking to me," you snarl.

Minho coyly smiles at you and calmly responds, "That's what I'm here for. Moral support!"

He takes even a closer step to you and lowers his voice, "So, just hold on to that rock and hit someone with it!"

You get confused by what he said, "What rock?"

He eyes your hand on your side, "The one in your hand, love!" He answers.

You don't even realize you've been holding it until he pointed it out. The moment you know, you can feel its weight in your hand.

You gasp in surprise and glare at Minho, "I'm not doing what you say."

You hear footsteps coming from under the bridge and turn around to see a middle-aged man, "Are you alright, Miss?"

But Minho sees it as an opportunity, he stands and looms behind you, whispering evil things into your head.

"Mmmh... yeah," he hums in victory.

"He's perfect. No witnesses. Talk about beginner's luck," he whispers to you so close that it feels like he's living inside your head.

You feel his hand resting on your shoulder as he further persuades you, "Just one quick pop to the head and you're done."

For a second, you wanted to do what he said just so he could stop bothering you. However, the conscience in you is talking you out of it.

You walk toward the man and try to seek help from him, "Please, make him stop!" You say, gesturing to Minho who's standing right next to you.

The man looks confused by what you said and asks, "Make who stop?"

Disoriented by what's real or not, you keep looking back at Minho, then at the man, getting pushed to where you hit your limit.

The man walks up to you, feeling more concerned for you that he asks again, "Is everything alright?"

The relentless demon he is, Minho stands close next to you and whispers, "Would it help if I told you I can see into this man's soul and he absolutely deserves to die?"

This time you know it's his way to get what he wants, to get you to do the deed. You look away and hastily shout, "Shut up!"

Yet Minho keeps talking about the man as he's giving you a stare, one that you're way too familiar with, and convinces you that he thinks you're crazy.

"He has a wife and a daughter, you want to know what he does to them?" Minho's words hold intense hatred in them like you can feel the bitterness of it on your tongue.

You look at him to see if he's just tricking you to kill the man, "Don't trust me? Well, get a load of this!"

Minho covers your eyes with his hand again and this time, images of the man abusing his wife and daughter over and over again that you can't bear to watch anymore.

He snaps you back to reality again and says, "You'll save them both from years of pain, shame, and guilt."

Fueled by the rage from what you've seen through Minho's vision, you launch yourself at the man and hit him hard on the head, sending him tumbling to the side and into the river.

You stand there watching his body sinking into the water until the air stops bubbling to the surface of water and that's when you're certain that he's dead.

The man is dead.

Despite the shock, you manage to walk away while still carrying the rock in your hand, and once you realize you've been holding to it long enough. You throw it into the river then break into a run back to the studio.

You vomit everything into the toilet bowl once you're back in the studio, retching nothing but saliva and air.

Minho is standing at the doorway of the bathroom as he says, "It takes some used to but a couple more of that and I'll be out of your hair," he says.

You flush the toilet and sit on the bathroom floor, looking at him with teary eyes and the shock that hasn't left your body yet.

He pulls out the pocket watch and shows you that the Roman number written inside has gone one line, "See? One line has gone which means one sacrifice registered. Two to go."

You get up from the floor and drag yourself to the couch, feeling so drained by whatever has driven you to do unimaginable things, one that you thought you'd never done in your life.

-

Morning has passed but you can't find the energy to live for the day.

You're lying down on the couch watching the sky turn brighter with every hour passed. It hasn't sunk in yet what you did last night. It feels like a dream but at the same time, you can still feel the weight of the rock in your hand.

Minho has been quiet but you know he's lurking in the room and he decides to interfere by standing in front of you.

He tips his head to the side and asks, "How long are you going to stay like this?"

He then sits on the other end of the couch and says, "Well, you have to, at least, do whatever it is you do as a sculptor. You can't have people getting suspicious."

How come he takes it lightly? How did he get so calm after telling you to kill a man and watch you doing it?

"Fucking shut up!" You shout at him.

Talking to him makes everything unbearably real and it makes you recollect what happened last night. The guilt, the disgust you feel for yourself, the blood on your hands, you can see everything now under the daylight.

"I killed a man," you croak, saying it hurts that tears start to crawl out of you.

"I've killed someone," you meekly say with a tear rolling down from the corner of your eyes.

"Yeah, but that was hours ago," Minho nonchalantly says.

"I keep feeling the crack of his skull on the rock," you pause to sniffle and turn to look at Minho, "I did that."

But he wouldn't get what you feel because he's not a human in the first place. Minho is a demon.

"It's your fault. You're not even—" You stop talking because it's no use to talk to an entity that knows no compassion.

You brush your hair to the back and deeply sigh. Turning your head at Minho again to ask, "Why is this happening to me?"

You use the heel of your hand to press on your eye to stop crying, "I'm not a bad person."

"No, no, no," Minho quickly denies.

He moves to stand behind the couch and leans close to you, "It wouldn't work if you were. It has to be someone corruptible," he explains.

Your forehead wrinkles and forms a questioning look on your face, trying to make sense of what he said.

"If you think about it, what's happening here, it reflects really well on your character," he says with a smile.

What he said only assures you that you are a bad person. What you did is the reflection of what you truly are, a bad person.

You nod and wipe your wet cheek with the back of your hand. You get up to sit on the couch and grab your purse, rummaging inside to pull out your phone.

"What are you doing?" Minho asks with a panicked voice.

You dial the police line on your phone and show it to him, "Calling the police."

He jolts on his feet and sits next to you on the couch as you hit the call button.

"But why?" He asks.

You can hear the dialing tone ringing so close to your ear, "So they'll arrest me," you simply answer.

Minho nervously chuckles, "Then you won't be able to do the other sacrifices," he reminds you to rethink your choices.

"Good!" You shortly respond, trying to stay in your right mind this time.

"Then the Apocalypse will happen and billions will die. I know, I know, I get it. You don't want blood on your hand but if it saves billions..." He's babbling, desperately trying to stop you from turning yourself in.

The way he puts it that way, he makes you choose the lesser between the two evils. 

"Hello, police department, may I help you?" The operator speaks on the phone.

Kill three people who deserve it or save billions of innocent people?

You find yourself hanging up the call and putting your phone away, once again failing to do the right thing.

"See? You're a good person!" Minho says as he exhales in relief.

To be honest, you don't know what's good or bad, right or wrong anymore. It's one big blur to you.

You feel frustrated once again, you feel like a failure but on the bigger picture, you're trying to stop the world from ending.

But can you really save everyone?

-

You can't wait to dwell on everything in the comfort of your apartment. Before you can do all that, you need to set boundaries with him. You face him and look him right in the eyes, "I have six days to kill two more so please, give me a break for now."

Minho gets quiet for a moment before nodding in agreement, "That's fair."

Feeling the need to wash yourself from whatever it is clinging to your body, you get a shower and take your meds to help you decompress while sitting on the end of your bed in your bathrobe.

"I don't know why you take those pills," Minho says as he enters your room.

You quietly sigh at him and say, "Can you at least give me a few minutes until it's working?"

"Want to wash it down with wine?" He offers, showing the bottle of red in his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't drink alcohol after taking antidepressants," you answer, not sure why bother answering him.

"That sucks!" He says and puts the wine bottle down on top of your dresser, "I was thinking we could celebrate our first kill."

You feel a little faint at the mention of the word kill and celebrate being put in one sentence. You climb onto the bed and pull your duvet, "I need to rest."

Minho appears at the end of your bed, looking down at you with his dark, wide eyes, "That's right. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

"Can you turn the lights out for me?"

"Certainly."

The room turns dark but you get a newfound comfort in it.

"Goodnight," Minho's voice caresses your ears like a spring breeze.

You don't want to get used to this but you feel inexplicably at ease that there's someone else with you in this vast emptiness.

"Goodnight, Minho."

-

SIX DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

You jolt awake to the sounds of your phone ringing on your bedside table and you know who it is without having to look at the contact name. Your fingers are tapping the phone screen as you squint your eyes to make sure you hit the accept call button.

"Yeah?" You ask as you put the phone on the side of your face while you're lying on your side with your eyes closed.

"You're still sleeping?" Kim asks, noticing the sleep in your voice.

"Mm-mmh," you hum in answer.

"You know what time it is?"

"I don't know. Nine or ten?" You wildly guess by how badly you want to go back to sleep.

You hear her sighing from the other line of the call, "It's almost 2 in the afternoon," she says.

You force your eyes to open to check the time yourself and see that it is indeed two in the afternoon.

"Oh?" You innocently gasp.

Realizing that may piss her off, you hurried to shift the conversation elsewhere, "Yeah, uh... why are you calling again?"

You fear that she's going to be mad about you abruptly leaving the exhibition or worse if she knew about Nick. You hold your breath, anticipating her answer.

"Oh, yes, I have good news," she says with a smile that you can feel from your end of the line.

"You sold four sculptures, darling!" She squeals.

That's exciting news but you don't have it in you to participate in that excitement, yet you feel relieved you can properly breathe at ease.

"That's... That's great!" You meekly say while raking your hair to the back with your fingers.

"I've been calling you since yesterday, you know that?"

"Oh? I, uhm..." You take a moment to think of an answer.

Summoned a demon? Found out that you have seven days to the end of the world? Killed someone to stop it?

"I needed—"

"Never mind!" She rudely cuts you off, "Guessing from how tired you sounded, you must be going straight back to work, huh?"

The sculpture is still a chunk of unshapen stone but yeah, you worked on it just a bit. Well, a work is a work.

"Yeah, I-I did," you sputter your answer yet thankful that all of her guesses are off the mark.

"I'll come with the paperwork tomorrow. For now, you can rest now or work some more, knock yourself out," she says, couldn't care less about what you're doing now that you've made money and she got to feed on a few percent of it.

"Thanks, Kim!" You say, because it's better to always be on her good side.

"Oh, come on! We both working hard," she kindly refuses but you know she feels entitled to this.

"Let's have a dinner to celebrate," she suggests.

"Yeah, yeah," you half-heartedly answer.

"Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Bye!"

You don't even bother to say it back knowing that she'll hang up right after she said her bye. Since you've woken up already, you sit up on the bed and pull your knees up, hugging your feet as you gather your thoughts.

In your peripheral vision, you see a flash of red from the doorway of your room. You turn to look and see Minho standing with the side of his body leaning against the doorframe.

The all-black outfit he's wearing makes his honey skin glow and his hair look like a blazing fire under the sunlight. He smiles once he notices your eyes are on him.

"Morning, sunshine!" He sweetly greets you with a smile that is a little unsettling but a whole lot attractive.

He crosses his arms in front of him, exposing the veins coiling his forearms, "Oh, wait, it's way past noon," he says with a grin.

Looking at him only reminds you of the responsibility you're carrying on your shoulders: saving billions of people from being incinerated.

"Are you always like this or...?" Minho asks, breaking the silence that hung in the room as you think of the dire situation you're in.

Minho approaches you and stands at the end of the bed, "You can't stay in all day. We only have five and a half days left," he reminds you of the time-sensitive quest you're in.

The only way to save those billions is by killing three people. That's the only thing on the pro list, there are just too many cons, mainly on the killing part. The only good thing that comes out of it so far is that you only need to do two more killings.

God! What have you become?

"What should I do?" You hopelessly ask him even though it's a bad idea to ask a demon such a question.

"Just carry on as usual so the people around you don't get spooked," he answers.

It's you and him, him and you, there's no one else you can seek help from.

Minho is right. You can't just sit here and watch the day goes by or else the thing you've done would come to a waste.

You slowly scoot over to sit on the edge of the bed and rub the sleep of your eyes, not ready to face the day when you know you only have six days left to stop the end of the world.

"And while we're going on about the day we can decide who to kill next," Minho adds.

The devilish grin looks beautiful on his sculpted face but everything he says sending a chill down your spine.

-

"Oh, an old lady!" Minho exclaims as an elderly lady enters the elevator.

You silently watch as he scoots closer to her and smells her head, "She smells like... oh! She's sweet."

You silently groan in the corner watching what he's doing.

He places his hand on the lady's shoulder and says, "She can't stop thinking about the end though. She can't wait for it to come."

He looks at you with that wild grin plastered on his face, "You'd be doing her a favor."

You lightly shake your head at him to make him stop playing around the poor lady but he doesn't get the clues.

"She dreams of death. Even now—"

"Shut up!" You say through your gritted teeth.

The old lady turns to look at you, "What is it, my dear?"

You quickly put on a smile for her, "Oh, nothing," you politely say.

Minho walks up to stand next to you again and whispers in your ear, "Just do it. No one will miss her."

"Shut up!" You whisper back while throwing daggers with your eyes at him.

"She's nearly dead already!"

Thankfully, the elevator dings open and shoots his idea down as you step out of the elevator.

"We need to start to pick someone!" He persists as he follows you walking in the lobby.

Minho is such a nuisance.

It's hard to ignore him when he keeps talking, making remarks about everyone he sees, and constantly around you the whole time.

It's when you're working on your sculpture that you get to immerse yourself in your work and disassociate from reality.

All you hear is the slamming sound of your hammer on the chisel and pieces of stone falling onto the floor. Looking down at the mess you made, you spot one particular piece of stone lying close to your feet. You stare at it for too long you get the recollection of that night.

The weight of the rock in your hand, how you bashed someone's head with it, and the splashing sound of the man falling into the water, all of that vividly playing in the back of your head.

You stagger backward and drop your chisel onto the floor, the clattering sound echoing in the spacious studio.

"I've been meaning to tell you this," Minho appears from behind the sculpture, startling you.

"We should order food," he suggests.

You put away your hammer and take off your mask, walking to the mini fridge to get a bottle of water.

"You're a demon. You feed on..." You think for a moment to finish your sentence as you unscrew the cap of the bottle.

He snatches the flyer stuck to the fridge door and asks, "Pizza?"

You close the fridge and walk over to the couch, plopping yourself down before chugging some water into your system.

"You need to eat so you can—"

"Kill?" You finish his sentence.

Minho scrunches his nose and sits on the armrest of the couch next to you, "I was about to say think but yeah, that too," he says.

You untie your pinafore and throw it aside, he isn't wrong to say that you need to eat. What's the point of saving the world if you're going to die of starvation?

You let out a sigh and grab the flyer from his hand, typing the numbers on your phone screen.

"Cheese pizza, please? With a lot of pepperoni!"

How can you believe that he's a demon when his choice of pizza topping is like a toddler's?

-

"Good evening, Miss!" The concierge greets you as he sees you enter the door.

"Hi," you greet back, impatiently wanting to get back to your apartment to dwell on your fate again.

"Miss Kim came by and dropped something for you," he informs, taking out a big envelope from your mailing box.

There's a faint sound coming from the small TV tuned to a news broadcast when you come to the desk to collect it.

"Here it is, Miss," he slides the big brown envelope across the shiny surface of the desk. There's a note on top of it which you immediately recognize as Kim's.

You open to do a quick check on what's inside when you hear a glimpse of the news from the TV.

"...man found dead in the river has been identified as Ben Watson, a financial officer of a bank company, leaving a wife and a seven-year-old daughter who has been notified about his tragic death..."

You glance at the small screen and see the photograph of the man you killed that night. You can't possibly be wrong about this when you remember the horror on his face as you lifted the rock before swinging it hard to his head.

"Is there anything wrong, Miss?" The concierge asks.

You snap yourself out of your daze and put the envelope close to your chest as if someone about to steal it from you.

"No, no," your voice is quivering in panic at the sight of the man you killed.

"Thank you," you abruptly the conversation with gratitude and walking fast to the elevator.

The warm water doesn't work to calm you down when you're tainted inside. You feel filthy, inside and out. You feel sick seeing your reflection in the mirror.

You've been holding your medicine in your hand but you need something stronger, you ditch the pill and run to the kitchen.

You pull out the wine you have in the kitchen cabinet and drink it straight from the bottle, chugging it like it's water. You gasp when you stop drinking, taking the bottle with you as you sit on the sofa while you're still in your bathrobe.

"This is how you're going to end the day?" Minho asks, taking the bottle of wine from you to take a sip.

"Can you stop talking about killing for just—" You choke on air as anger bubbles up inside you.

Minho holds his hands up in defeat and leans back on the sofa next to you, "I'm just saying..." he meekly says.

The silence only resides for a minute until he speaks again, "Look, the earlier you get it done—" he stops talking when you shoot him a glare.

You take the bottle of wine from him and take a long gulp, a drop of wine escapes the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

You aggressively wipe it with the sleeve of your bathrobe and recline on the sofa, looking out at the city lights that look like pinpricks in the dark of the night.

"I'm crazy..." you sadly remark.

Those words remind you of a sobering fact that what people think of you: crazy.

Ever since you were still an art student, people often found you talking to yourself in class, always in your little world with your imaginary friend. That leads you to this solitary life because normal people avoid crazy.

"People are right about me. I'm crazy," you state again, and saying it out loud makes your heart aches.

Minho turns his head and looks at you with his dark eyes that weirdly provide you warmth, "You're not crazy."

But why would a normal person kill a person because a demon told him to? You don't even know if he's real and not a product of your imagination.

"I'm a murderer..." you say with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart.

He scoots closer until he sits close next to you, his shoulder bumps with yours on the big sofa that could fit five people. He looks at you and gently says, "Yeah, but not a crazy one."

Minho has a way of looking at bad things positively. You chuckle at the irony of his words. You can't tell if you should be happy that you're not crazy or sad that you're indeed a murderer.

He slumps down on the sofa to be on the same level as you, also turning his head to look at the view, "Want to know something?"

Instead of answering, you take a sip of the wine. You know he'll keep talking even if you refuse him.

"This is actually my first assignment," he shares.

He drops his hand on the space on the sofa, merely inches away from yours, "It's more of an initiation, sort of earning my wings."

You look at him and get a little taken aback by the proximity you can see yourself in his eyes. You almost forget what you were trying to say to him, "What are you trying to say?"

You look away because he looks exactly like the one you envisioned on your sculpture, divinely beautiful that it's hard to comprehend.

"I'm saying that I'm new to this too," he answers.

Again, you can't tell if you should be happy or sad to know that. Strangely though, you find comfort in his words.

You look at his hand splayed so close to yours and it evokes the curiosity in you that needs to be fed. You gently flip over his hand and gently slip your fingers on the spaces between his fingers, you can feel the warmth and the roughness of his finger pads on each finger.

Minho is real, he's real, you perpetually assure yourself.

You glance at him and he's looking at you, your eyes meet in a tender gaze.

"Are you real, Minho?"

You're aware of how much that question weighs. If the answer is no, you know the insurmountable pain you brought onto yourself.

He slowly blinks and you can see his dark lashes fanning out so beautifully. His crimson-red lips open and says, "I'm as real as you want me to be."

Words aren't enough to convince you. With the despair filling your heart, you lean in and innocently put your lips on his. It's a kiss that feels more than just a physical act, one that you didn't know you needed.

After getting the reassurance that you need, you pull away. However, the hand lingering on your jaw tells otherwise. He touches your face with just his fingertips yet it's enough to send a tingle inside.

Slowly, he leans in to kiss your closed eyelids ever so softly and before you know it, he brings your face closer to place a tender kiss on your lips. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel the warmth no one has ever given you.

-

FIVE DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD

"You wake up early!" Minho says as you dress up to get ready for the day.

You ignore his words, continue collecting your things around the room, and put them into your bag.

"Are you trying to match your clothes with me?" He says, looking at your all-black outfit while sitting on the headrest of the sofa.

This morning, you woke up on the sofa still in your bathrobe and a blanket covered your body. The first thing you remember is you kissed him last night and somehow, it convinces you to keep going with the quest.

However, you still feel conflicted with what you do. You need to make sure of one thing.

"How about this handsome fucker?" Minho asks, pointing to the other person riding the elevator with you.

The man looks indeed handsome, he dressed so impeccably when it's only ten in the morning. He catches you looking and smiles at you.

You politely smile back and look away only to face Minho who's standing on the other corner of the elevator.

"He'll be losing his hair at the age of 32 and spends the next 29 years taking it out on his wife," he whispers even though no one can hear him but you.

The taxi ride to the hospital only takes fifteen minutes and you know where to go right away from the array of flower arrangements outside the separate building from the main hospital.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I'm thinking?" Minho asks in a concerned voice.

You wish to be able to shut him up for a few minutes until you can find what you're looking for. The hall is packed with people in black attire to what you can safely assume are the guests of the mourning family on the two funeral services being held by two different families.

You read the sign that leads to the Watson family yet pretend to be the one visiting the other family. Before you can sneak into their funeral service, you see someone taking the daughter outside.

"This is a bad idea!" Minho panickly says.

It's kind of alarming to hear because it's the first time he sounded genuinely concerned. You follow where the little girl is being taken and turns out, she's being taken to the park outside, probably to avoid her feeling overwhelmed.

"You're not a relative. People will get suspicious of you!" Minho nervously whispers.

You come over to the two men chatting and kindly ask for a cigarette even though you don't smoke. You stand at the other side of the door and take a drag of the smoke to be seen convincing.

"I know you're worried..." Minho sighs.

He stands next to you with his head hovering close to your ear. He takes a breath before talking, "She's not in mourning. She's not not mourning," he says as you both quietly watch the girl sitting on the bench and drinking a juice box.

"Happy that it's finished but sad that he's dead. But it has finished!" He emphasizes the last word.

You take another drag and accidentally do it excessively, sending you into a coughing fit.

"You spared her another five years of it. A lifetime of therapy," Minho explains, "a lifetime!"

You look at him to see if he meant what he said. He's a demon after all, the vision he forced you to see could be misleading, a trick to make you do what he says.

He looks back at you and smiles, "She's a mom at 29. A nan at 57," he shares.

See? He knows how to comfort you even though you don't ask for it. You give up on pretending to smoke and stab the cigarette butts onto the big ashtray. You shove your hands into the pocket of your jacket and start walking away to the parking lot.

"Why are you telling me this?" You curiously ask.

He nonchalantly shrugs as he walks next to you, "I just thought you'd like to know."

-

"Did you see that?" Minho shouts as he leisurely watches TV with his feet up on the couch.

You pretend not to hear him and continue sculpting, hitting the hammer harder, louder to drown out his voice. As if he read your mind, he appears behind you and places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"You should see this!" He insists, steering your body and making you watch the TV.

It's a broadcast of night news about climate change and he magically changes the channel to show news about nuclear testing.

"It's manifesting. Do you understand?"

Minho keeps switching the channel to show you every bad there is happening in the world, everything that shows the sign that the world is close to ending.

You lightly shrug him off and say, "We got this kind of news a few years ago but—"

Minho holds you by the shoulders and shakes you awake, "This is real. We don't have much time and you're the only one who can stop it!" He reminds you of the harsh truth.

Somehow that only makes you question why you have to be the one to bear such responsibility. Billions of people on earth and they chose you?

"I'm not ready yet. I'm—"

"Don't you want to see that little girl live her peaceful future?" Minho asks.

This is where you know he's being the demon he is, using your weakness to his advantage and making you give in to the temptation.

It's not so much a temptation when you have no other options, it's killing or being engulfed in flames on Friday. You muster up your courage and think of something to do.

The first killing was what Minho said it was: a beginner's luck, the man happened to be there and an abusive bastard, even in his grave, he shall not rest in peace.

This time, you plan to do it meticulously and without mistakes. You walk to the kitchen and pull open the drawer, taking out a knife you occasionally use to cut your sandwiches.

Minho shakes his head in disapproval of your choice of weapon, "You're not a knife person," he concludes.

You look at him, demanding an explanation behind that haste conclusion.

"It's messy. You could hurt yourself," he explains.

That sounds right. You put the knife back into the drawer and look around the studio to find potential killing weapons.

Minho leans into your side and whispers, "Let's choose something that is more you!"

You look at him and see that he's eyeing the table full of your sculpting tools.

You pick up the medium chisel and show it to him to seek his approval. You meet another disapproval as he strongly shakes his head.

"It's too specific. They'll know it's you. You're the only sculptor living in the area," he gives you an insight into how the devil's mind works.

You must admit that he just saved you from making a mistake. You pick another weapon that you're familiar with but also gives you the upper hand to do the killing. You pick up the hammer and turn around to show him.

A smile rises on his face as he nods in approval, "That's you! You're a basher!"

You bring the hammer close and observe it, it feels good around your hand since it's a tool that you work with most of your life.

"You've had the practice now. It'll be easier this time," Minho says with a sinister smile.

You want to believe his words so much but the nerves get to you. Your breathing becomes erratic once you realize what you're going to do with the hammer.

Minho puts his hand on the small of your back and holds you steady, "Liquor courage! That's what you need! Booze!" He suggests.

"I don't keep any alcohol in the studio," you meekly say.

Considering that sculpting involves a lot of sharp objects, it's wise to not keep anything that would dull your focus.

"Also, I just took an antidepressant an hour ago," you inform him.

"Oh, shit!" He curses and leans his body to the back, against the table.

Minho crosses his arms in front of him, then rubs his chin as he thinks of something. He then leers at you with a smirk dancing on his face, "Well, do you want a drink?"

-

There's a bar a few blocks away from your studio.

You got here in need of liquid courage and there's plenty of them here. You plan to only consume enough alcohol just to calm the nerves but not too much to lose your focus.

It gets you anxious to step into a new environment. You decide to go straight to order drinks.

"Whiskey, please?" You say to the bartender with a handlebar mustache.

Bartenders tend to remember the faces they have seen and yours must not have registered into his memory bank. He puts away the cloth he's holding.

"You want ice with it?" He asks.

"I'll have it dry," you answer since you came here for the alcohol, not for refreshment.

"Easy, love. We have work to do," Minho reminds as he props a hand against the countertop.

Knowing that one drink wouldn't be enough and you don't want to bother the bartender again for a drink, you decide to double.

"Make that two, please!" You hurriedly say before the bartender starts making your order.

"You don't have to get one for me," Minho grins at you.

The bartender takes another glass with him to finally fill them with your choice of potion.

"I didn't," you whisper back at him.

You immediately pay for it and bring your drinks with you to the empty spot in the corner of the bar, hidden behind the pool table.

You slowly sip your drink and feel it running through your system, stripping a layer of senses off of you, making you less aware of your surroundings.

"Okay, you see anyone tasty?" Minho asks as he sits next to you.

He cranes his neck looking for the next human sacrifice among the people who are enjoying their concoctions. His finger points to the guy with a beanie and drinking a pint of beer.

"Oh, that one perfect!" He exclaims.

He stacks his hands on top of the table and leans forward as he further speaks, "Burglaries. Mostly target the elderly. What do you reckon?" He turns to you for opinions.

The alcohol is not quite there yet so you take a longer sip. You feel the alcohol burns your throat and you wince from the bitter aftertaste.

"No?" He asks as he looks at you.

You know he's asking about the human sacrifice, not the alcohol but the answer is the same, "No."

Minho moves on. His eyes are pacing around the room to study people and check their backgrounds with his evil power.

He taps your shoulder as he finds his next candidate, "See that girl with the pints?"

You can easily spot the girl with curly hair, carrying two pints of beer in her hands.

Minho leans in close to your ear to give his intel, "She went on holiday when she was 12 years old and saw her sister drown in a swimming pool."

He suddenly lowers his voice as he tells you the rest of the story, "She could have pulled her out but she just stood there and watched."

Maybe it's true that people are the scariest.

They may look ordinary and good and all yet inside, lies this darkness that they buried deep inside them. If Minho hadn't told you, you would have taken her as a pretty girl with a nice smile and nothing more.

Minho pulls at the sleeve of your shirt and points to another guy, talking to his friend by the pool table. You're about to wave him off again until the guy turns his head and you know who it is.

"How about him? He likes to secretly film girls by drug them and once he—"

"Sent a girl into overdose," you finish his sentence.

Everyone knows who Tim Shaw other than a student in our faculty and more importantly, people know what he likes to do to innocent girls yet no one dares to make him take responsibility for what he did.

Until one night, he drugged a girl and left her on the cold floor of a club, unconscious. There's no evidence that he drugged her or it was he drugged, ended up with him getting dropped off of all charges.

You have one more drink to finish and you gulp it in one go, wanting to use this opportunity to get back for what he did to that poor, innocent girl.

Minho triumphantly smiles, knowing that you have set a target on Tim's head.

"I think we have a contender," he concludes.

-

Tim is exiting the bar and you take it as an advantage.

You don't need to lure him out, you wait a minute before you follow him outside to not seem conspicuous. Once you're outside, you look side to side to see where Tim is going.

"Perfect location. No witnesses," Minho answers as you both find him turning to the back of the bar.

Tim seems to hear your rushed footsteps and turns around to see you. He seems to be taken aback and you doubt that he'll recognize you. Being crazy has its advantages, you're off the asshole's radar.

You nervously laugh as he looks at you. You quickly think of something to say, "Oh, my God! It's really you, Tim!" You say with fake enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry but who..." he gets all defensive.

"I'm—" You don't know how to explain yourself other than 'the insane one from art school'.

"Oh, wait, you're that girl, the sculptor, the... uh," he brakes before he can say the infamous title of yours.

"The freaky one?" You playfully say.

He bursts into laughter and nods, "Hey, don't get me wrong. I like freaky," he says.

Minho points to the carts of empty bottles and gestures for you to use them instead of the hammer inside your bag that weighs your shoulder the longer you're carrying it.

"I was just getting a drink but it doesn't feel good drinking alone," you lie even though that's how you prefer to enjoy your poison.

"Yeah, I bet," he says with a grin that showcases his whitened teeth and malicious intent.

"How about drinking at my place?" He offers.

"Home turf. Even better," Minho comments, appearing behind you.

You don't want to seem desperate to be with Tim because honestly, you're just stalling to find the perfect opportunity to kill him. It's time to put what you learned from Kim into practice.

"I, uhm..." you rub the back of your neck and shyly smile at him, "I don't think that's..."

As you pretend to consider his offer, he's secretly checking you out. His eyes travel up and down your body, you bet he thinks of lewd things even though you're dressed like a bible salesman with the same outfit you wore to the funeral service.

He takes a step forward and smiles at you, "I live not far from here. You can easily crawl back here if you think I'm a bad drinking partner," he seduces.

Tim must have thought you were as gullible as the other. Oh, he has no idea the surprise you have for him!

"If you don't mind, yeah," you say with a low giggle.

"Okay," he says with a triumphant smile.

His house is indeed only two blocks away from the bar and he keeps boasting about how he owns a house from his inheritance and the rising price of property these days.

"Please, come in!" He lets you into his house.

You step on a crumpled beer can as you enter the living room and are horrified at the amount of trash littering the place.

"A few friends and I watched a football match last night," he concisely explains.

He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack, "How about we drink in my room?"

You uneasily glance at Minho and he nods. You look back at Tim then put on a fake smile for him, "Yes."

He leads the way up the stairs and you follow him, climbing the steps with the hammer getting heavier and heavier inside your bag.

Tim turns around and sees you being hesitant, "There's no need to be shy now," he says with a lopsided grin.

You respond with a smile, keeping your head tilted up, and continue climbing up the stairs.

"Now!" Minho orders.

"Hit him with the hammer now!" He says again so close to your ear.

Your head snaps in his direction and hisses through your gritted teeth, "Shut the fuck up!"

Tim catches you talking and looks over his shoulder, "What's that?"

"Can't wait to see the bedroom!" You lie and add a giggle to sound convincing.

He smirks at you before pushing the door to his bedroom, "Come on in!"

His room is less messy than his living room in which he helplessly tries to make it seem tidy by flattening the pile of his duvet.

"You can sit down here," he says, patting the space next to him on the bed.

"You're not really going to have sex with him, are you?" Minho asks as he quietly watches you from across the bed.

A deadly glare is enough to answer him and he immediately refrains from pressuring you.

"I was just checking," he adds.

It's when you're in his bedroom that you start to fear Tim, not when you know what he is capable of. But at the same time, it fuels your hate fire, it reminds you of the reason why you need to eliminate scum like him.

"You keep your alcohol in your room?" You ask.

It's obvious that he took you here for different intention. He's taking you here for the sole reason that is to ruin your life.

"Oh, yeah, the drinks," he smacks his lips together and awkwardly paces in the room.

He reaches for the portable speaker on top of his dresser and turns it on, "You can wait for the drinks while listening to music," he says.

You nod, "That sounds nice!"

He gets out of his bedroom and heads back downstairs. While he's doing what you believe is spiking your drink with substance, you think of a plan on how you're going to kill him.

First, you take the hammer out of your bag and practice your swing. You get panicked with each second passed and haven't found a way to catch him off guard.

The footsteps on the stairs signal you that he's on his way here. You decide to do the classic way by hiding in the back of the door, planning to strike him from behind.

You see his figure entering the room, carrying two glasses of drinks in his hands, "It's your lucky day because I found a bottle of—"

Without thinking, you swing your hammer hard and hit him right on the side of the head. It's a weak blow and you can see that from how he's staggering backward, still conscious.

There's no turning back now that you have done it. You come charging at him, attacking him while he's still disoriented from the first blow.

He collapses onto the bed and not giving him time to recover, you keep hitting his head with the hammer with blood splattering the bed and wall with every swing of the hammer going onto his head.

You whimper as blood gets on your face and see that Tim is lying cold on the bed, dead. However, you land another blow just to make sure you've done it and leave no room for mistakes.

"You're good, you're good," Minho says from across the room.

That's when you stop and take a step back. It feels like your soul has left your body, you suddenly feel drained and the hammer drops onto the floor.

You look at the mess you made, the bloody mess and dead body, your life that is once far from all of it. Your throat suddenly closes up and you find it hard to breathe.

After a moment, Minho gets to your side to say, "You can't have that lying around," he's eyeing the bloody hammer lying on the floor.

With your mouth gaping for air, you bend down to pick it up and shove it back into your bag.

"Cleans anything you touched," Minho instructed.

You take a handkerchief from inside your jacket and use it to wipe surfaces you probably made contact with even though you're sure there aren't any.

You leave the bedroom after wiping the handle of the door and make a turn to the stairs when you hear the front door creak open.

You peek from the top of the stairs and someone is turning the lights in the kitchen.

"Get out before he sees you," Minho whispers.

It's bad when he needs to whisper like that even though no one can hear or see him, but you. The adrenaline is still pumping and you make the most of it by bracing yourself to make a run down the stairs and to the front door that is only a few meters away.

You take a deep breath before quietly descending the stairs without making any noise. You can feel your heart beating in your ear yet you keep going as the door is only a reach away.

You successfully land on the base of the stairs when your bag accidentally hits a flower pot, sending it breaking into pieces on the floor.

"Tim?" The man calls.

He looks at you with confusion drawn on his face, "Who are you?"

It's too late for you to break into a run as he sees your face and officially makes him an eyewitness. You can't leave an eyewitness, at least, not until you've done all three human sacrifices.

Is it necessary to kill him though?

You can think and consider as much as you want but it all comes down to the one question: kill or end the world?

-

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[girlfromthecrypt]

Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. Work on this IF will only properly start once Such Happy Campers is complete. A demo is not imminent. The working title is Reggie on the Run, but will most likely be changed.*

Story: You, an individual only known as Reggie Reese, are a criminal in the late 1800s. You find yourself stuck in a jail in Yellowhill, Letitia, where you are to be tried for your transgressions. Fortunately for you, a member of a prolific and feared local gang is brought in the same day. When the outlaw’s associates swoop in to rescue them, you too are given another chance at freedom. Before you know it, you are inducted into the strange and unusual band, most of whom appear to possess supernatural abilities.

Only, you were never exactly normal either…

Play as Reggie Reese (based on your choice of gender, this can either be “Regina”, “Reginald”, or simply “Reggie”, if you’re not one for the binaries)

Choose from four possible backgrounds that also determine the cause for your arrest! Play as a violent drunk, a highwayman or thief. More backgrounds may be added later

You have telepathic powers! Yay! Now, how to use that to get money…

Pick and name a horse from a selection of various breeds and personalities, bond with and care for it!

Face horrors beyond comprehension, and possibly end up saving the world

redeem yourself or become worse

Inspirations: Blood Meridian, Butcher’s Crossing, Red Dead Redemption 2, Lonesome Dove, and of course the actual Old West.

The Cast:

“Doc” — The Leader: You don’t know his real name. You don’t know where he came from. There are whispers about him having escaped from an exploitative freak show, though he’s certainly not forthcoming with any information. The one thing you do know is that he saved your life.

Age: 42

Power: Healing

Personality: Polite and kind (at least at first glance). Well-read and highly intelligent, idealistic.

Romanceable: Yes, for MCs of all genders.

Horse: Silksong, a palomino Mustang.

Isaiah Wilder — The Berserker: A behemoth of a man who’s draw is as quick and deadly as his fists. You have never encountered anyone as bloodthirsty or as dogged as him. He ensures people fear the gang, and should intimidation prove insufficient, he’ll delight in mending that. 

Age: 37

Power: Superhuman strength and zombie-like constitution

Personality: Caring to the gang, absolutely heartless to everyone else. Brutal, cunning.

Romanceable: Yes, for female MCs (why you’d want to romance a literal monster is your deal)

Horse: Black Phillip, a black Missouri Foxtrotter.

Margaret Malloy — The Black Widow: Thrice married, thrice widowed. Her husbands have a tendency to throw themselves off of cliffs, it seems. What exactly she’s hiding behind her ready smile is for her to know and you to find out… at your own peril, that is. She often acts as a decoy for the gang.

Age: 33

Power: Persuasion

Personality: Harmoniously cheerful and sweet, with a love for all things shiny. 

Romanceable: Yes, for male and male-presenting MCs (you’ve been warned)

Horse: Freckle, a Leopard Appaloosa.

Hilda Heinrichs — The One Who Dances in the Creek: She’s a strange, strange woman. Perhaps the strangest you’ve ever met. A former prostitute, she fell in with Doc after he treated a gunshot wound she sustained after attempting to steal from a suitor. Oftentimes, she’s off in another world— literally.

Age: 30

Power: Spectral awareness

Personality: Hard to grasp. Her temper changes at the drop of a hat, like she’s a force of nature. But she’ll happily entertain the others by playing her banjo.

Romanceable: Yes, for MCs of all genders

Horse: Virginia, a white Shire.

Francisco “Fran” Perez — The Gambler: He doesn’t talk much, barely at all, really. Maybe he doesn’t like you… or maybe he simply prefers the quiet. He’s eerily good at gambling, and even better at cheating people out of their money. His abilities are invaluable to the gang; he sniffs out most of their jobs for them.

Age: 26, the youngest of the gang

Power: Precognition

Personality: Calm, quiet, wary of strangers. Funny guy, once you get to know him.

Romanceable: Yes, for MCs of all genders

Horse: Cielo, a brown and white Pinto with striking blue eyes.

The Strange Lady— ??: She hangs around a lot. You don’t know what to make of her.

Age: ??

Power: ??

Personality: Confusing.

Romanceable: No

*MC is gender-selectable, but has a locked-in name. The canon reason for this is that MC’s name, Reggie Reese, is an alias, and that MC keeps their true name a secret (at least from the public). The game is set in a largely fictionalized version of the Wild West. There are a great many parallels to actual historical events, but to avoid writing about still-existent locations and organizations (among other things), I have taken some liberties with worldbuilding. Also, it’s fun to pick fictional town and state names, for example Letitia and Yellowhill. 

TW: gore, discussions of trauma, ptsd, c-ptsd, mentions of SA and related trauma, mentions of period-typical prejudice and sexism, morally gray characters depending on how you play, downright homicidal characters, sex work. 

Dividers by @plum98

So. What y'all think?

[silhouetteonpaper]

One Shots

✧ - Platonic | ☽ - Angst | ♡ - Fluff

Vengeance | ☽♡ You decide to take matters into your own hands and get revenge on the person you despise most. But what happens when you keep it a secret from the entire team?

Disconnected | ☽♡ When a seemingly simple mission takes a turn for the worse, you’re left to your own devices to figure out how to survive.

Worth It | ✧♡ As you find yourself at yet another one of Tony’s parties, dread fills you at the idea of having to socialize. But what happens if you decide to cause some mischief and bend the rules a little?

Missing | ✧☽♡ When another average day of work leaves you with piles and piles of casework, you’re surprised to see the missing persons report amidst the stack of papers. Jumping headfirst into solving the case, who could have ever predicted where it would leave you?

Mind and Matter | ☽♡ When your plan to save New York goes awry, Natasha decides there’s only one person to blame.

Who’s To Blame? | ✧☽ When you show up at the compound with severe injuries, there’s no guarantee if you’re going to pull through. Even worse than that, there’s no one to explain how you ended up in this situation in the first place.

Saving Lives | ☽♡ It was supposed to be your one day off, working tirelessly as an EMT earning you a well deserved rest day. But what happens when a last minute emergency leaves you worried about the person you love the most?

Public Figure | ✧☽♡ The world wants to know all about you as the newest addition to the Avengers. But what happens when a normal interview session digs up something you’ve never told a soul… not even Natasha?

You’ve Changed | ✧☽♡ You’ve been hiding out for ages, living your own life now that you’ve chosen to be a solo-act agent. When someone from your past happens to appear at your door--this time with something on her mind--how will you react?

The Cycle of Grief | ✧☽♡ When your brother passed away, the only person you could blame was yourself. Now that the grief has consumed you, there’s only one thing left to do. But what happens when a certain someone threatens to spoil your plans?

Goodbye | ☽ It’s time for you to move out of the compound now that you’re ready to move onto bigger things in life—things you’re more passionate about. But what happens when that means leaving the person you love the most?

Hopeless | ☽♡ After an injury leaves you benched for nearly six months, you’re left questioning what your future will hold—including if it involves the person who’s stayed at your side through it all.

On The Run | ☽♡ You were used to the usual routine; completing a mission for some quick cash, running to the next hide-out in order to stay off the grid. But you weren't off the grid, not to Natasha. She still kept tabs on you, just in case. And now, she needed to find you—fast, before you both end up on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s kill list.

Red Remains | ☽♡ The Red Room will always haunt you, just as much as it haunts your girlfriend. The two of you can only hope to take down the Red Room once and for all, but something stands in your way. That’s when you’re forced to choose between the love of your life, and your biggest enemy: your father.

Playing With Time | ☽♡ Traveling through time is something you’re used to. Hopping from one century to another, causing some chaos, then moving onto the next year--only to repeat the same routine all over again. You’ve been to New York numerous times, but never in the 21st century. And what’s waiting for you on the streets of NYC have the chance to change your entire future…no, past…wait--present?

Tricks, Treats, and Tribulations | ☽♡ Of course you were going to dress up for Tony’s Halloween party; but if you knew what your choices were going to provoke… maybe you would've picked a different costume. With Natasha by your side, who could've expected were would land by the end of the night.

Opportunity | ☽♡ Your first mission as an Avenger was just around the corner with Fury eager to have you on the team. As glad as your girlfriend was to have you around at work, she had her own opinion about you avenging. Would her conflicting hopes get in the way of the biggest opportunity you’d ever had?

In Celebration | ☽♡ You and Natasha have been questioning the boundaries between co-workers, friends, and maybe even something more. After a perfect day spent with her, she has a suprise second date that leaves you guessing. Unfortunately for you, it’s more than just a suprise.

Requests

Stressed Stiches | ♡ When Natasha returns from her mission, she realizes just how stressed her absence made you feel. In an attempt to soothe your impending anxiety, a certain craft keeps you busy while waiting for your girlfriend’s return.

[deviantly-inspired]

Astarion is so interesting with his charlatan background when considering his approval/disapproval versus what actually gives him inspiration... it really can add a lot of nuance to his character.

in Act 2, there's a scene where you're in a den of enemies and you're being told to handle a group who failed their mission any way you see fit. You can kill them, fight them honorably in battle, or let them go. If you let them go, Astarion disapproves. Later, you're questioned as to why you let them go, where you'll get a persuasion or deception check: if you pick persuasion Astarion doesn't approve but he does get inspiration.

So now, he's not approved, exactly. But he's inspired. Which reads very, very interestingly if you're going for a "good" ending with Astarion. He disapproves of you saving the goblins. Why? He approves in most cases of you sparing "monsterous" things: the goblins in act 1, the hag, the gnolls. Why does he disapprove saving them here?

Well, the circumstances are different. You are, literally, surrounded by enemies at this point. And you're choosing mercy in an environment where that is objectively the stupid thing to do. But Act 1 shows us he wants us to be understanding towards "monsters" ; what he doesn't want is for us to be put into danger doing it.

Which makes sense. 200 years of abuse. If you play through his story, you know how compassion was treated by Cazador. And Moonrise tower, with it's viscera hidden in the walls and all these casual cruelties, must feel a bit like going back. So it's easy, then, for Astarion to fall into the mindset again; you've shown mercy where it isn't safe to show mercy. You're going to get yourself killed. of course he disapproves.

But then, later, he does approve of you lying about their fate (or, more accurately, you're intentions). He's inspired by it. He disapproved of what you did, but if you successfully lie about it he turns that around. Kindness doesn't have to be a death sentence. Mercy doesn't have to be weakness. Yes, it's more dangerous to be compassionate: that's what makes it so important.

So, in a "good" playthrough the way this can be read is Astarion, fearing for you, himself, the crew because you're choosing the wrong time to be nice. Only for him to be inspired when it works out. When no one gets hurt. Everyone gets to live (for now), even though you choose to be kind.

And I would like to add: it's only a -1 approval if you spare the goblins. Given there are actions in this game that can make approval sky rocket or plummet I think it's significant that acts of compassion only ever net a -1, consistently, throughout Acts 1 and 2.

I think a fair reading then would be: it's not that Astarion hates kindness or goodness or compassion. It's that Astarion has, quite literally, only just escaped 200 years of abuse. Kindness after horrors often chafes worse than cruelty, especially when it's long-term sustained horrors. Where was that kindness for him, throughout the last 200 years? Where was the compassion then? It's not anger towards you for choosing kindness: it's mourning the fact that no one ever showed that towards him. Of course he disapproves; if people are truly good and kind and compassionate and worth saving... why did no one ever save him?

[coffin-ramblings]

i know that most of the fandom accepted that Julia meant nothing to Andrew after this month's dev log and was just an object to project his feelings for Ashley on, but I realized that we were already subtly hinted that in Andrew's dream. We see him directly talk with the cultist, Leyley, and Ashley, who all ask something from him, help him with his goal of compartmentalizing his feelings, and can choose to not to talk with him because of their own interests (Leyley), feelings (Ashley), or to have him focus on doing something for them (cultist). However, if Andrew interacts with Julia, he never directly talks with her. We only get a flashback from his POV with her. If he interacts with her again, we only see his thoughts of not caring she's forever gone from his life. If you bring Leyley with you, she is the only part of his mind that treats her like an actual person who can act, react, and have feelings. Why she is the one to do that and reacts like this is a whole other post to write about.

The fact that she said that suggests that Andrew yearns for a relationship with Julia again, even though he knows that won't happen. But as we can see with him not feeling bothered he's never seeing her again and the voicemails video, he has no affection and care for her. Julia is his symbol of normalcy, a shield to protect him and Ashley from being picked on in high school, and an acceptable object for his affection and sexuality. Otherwise, she might as well just be a mannequin for him. This puts his indifference towards her getting harassed by Ashley to the point of self-harm and a possible attempted suicide in a much worse light. Does her death really matter to him if she wasn't a person to begin with?

[eldritch-nightmare]

howdy!! hope you're having a lovely day! may i request ticci toby and any other creeps of your choosing reacting to someone harming their s/o? thank you in advance!

a/n: hi!! thanks for sending the request!! hope you enjoy <3

reacting to someone hurting their gn!s/o.

includes: toby, nurse ann, homicidal liu + sully [separate], the bloody painter, and laughing jill.

warnings: reader gets injured, murder, blood, the murder isn't detailed but some of them may be a little graphic maybe, near-death experiences, it's implied that the reader doesn't know helen kills people.

TICCI TOBY.

He would not be a happy camper, that's for sure.

Toby has already had so much taken away from him, so if someone were to try and take away the one person he allowed himself to love? Yeah, no, not happening.

Toby has taken so many lives he doesn't even know the exact number, and he doesn't normally draw out their death unless it's something Slender wants him to do.

But seeing you passed out on the ground because some sick fuck decided to take their anger out on you... it brought Toby back to darker days, and all he could think about was eliminating the danger to keep you safe.

And let me tell you, Toby draws out your attacker's death. They hurt you, so therefore they deserve every ounce of pain he gives them.

Honestly, if he could, he'd probably keep the person alive over the course of weeks just to get it through their head just how badly they fucked up deciding to hurt you, but he needed to get you help as soon as possible so he leaves your attacker to bleed out.

Once the anger he feels subsides, it'll be replaced by panic and guilt as he rushes you to the nearest place you can receive medical attention, be it the mansion or the hospital.

He won't feel better until you wake up, and even after, this situation will definitely cause him to become a bit paranoid over your safety. He really can't lose you. That's not a pain he can go through again.

It'll probably take you weeks, maybe even months, to reassure Toby that you were okay.

This situation will definitely make him more aware of your safety. If he's not off completing tasks for Slender, he's keeping an eye on you. He's not trying to be clingy or overbearing, he just doesn't want to see you covered in your own blood ever again.

NURSE ANN.

Ann can't remember anything that happened before her death and... proxification, but she does know that you've been by her side through the entire process. You're one of the very small handful of people she trusts and likes, so there was no way she'd let anyone take you away from her.

So when she sees you on the ground, bloodied and bruised because some dumb group of wanna-be urban explorers she was hunting down freaked out thinking you were her? Well, let's just say there's nothing that can calm Ann's burning rage at that moment.

Not only have these people trespassed into her hospital, but they also dare to hurt the love of her life as well? There's no fucking way she'll show them mercy now.

You're barely clinging onto consciousness as you watch your girlfriend mercilessly slaughter the people who dared to even put you in such a state. It's not because you wanted to watch, you were just too exhausted and in far too much pain to look away.

The amount of blood alone was nauseating, and at some point, you couldn't even tell what color the floor was anymore.

But once Ann has dealt with the intruders, she'll oh so gently pick you up from the ground and carry you to the nearest (and cleanest) hospital room so she can treat your wounds.

Ann doesn't speak much, but you can hear her softly apologizing to you as she takes care of you. She tries her best to be careful, not wanting to make the pain worse than it already is. She doesn't feel as if this is her fault, she knows it isn't, but she still can't help but feel bad.

This experience will definitely make her realize just how much she cares for you. It's a little scary, to be quite honest with you. It's weird being attached to someone.

She isn't going to become overbearing when it comes to your safety, but she'll definitely be more careful about hunting down trespassers if she knows you're in the area.

Don't worry, a situation like this will never happen again.

HOMICIDAL LIU.

Oh. Oh boy, what have you done?

Liu is, as we all know, not the type of person to take another's life in cold blood. He only hurts others when it is self-defense because he doesn't want to be anything like his brother.

But keep in mind that Liu is also very protective and he has a lot of pent-up anger (among a variety of other emotions) that he keeps under tight wraps. So, believe me when I tell you that you really do not want to be on the receiving end of that anger.

Unfortunately, some sad soul was completely unaware of this and decided to hurt you.

Now, for Liu, he honestly blacked out the moment he saw you bleeding out on the ground. You, however, witnessed the carnage that was about to take place. Honestly, for a moment, you thought that Sully had taken over because of how violent it got. But no, it was all Liu.

Liu doesn't make quick work of this. No, by the time he came out of whatever stupor of anger he got put in, he was drenched in blood, and the person he killed didn't even look like a person anymore.

He didn't use his gun. He used Sully's knife. You've never seen him use a knife before. He always avoided them, he only ever used guns. But he used a knife. He broke the fucking knife.

Right. Well. You'll just have to sit him down and discuss what transpired later. Preferably when you aren't bleeding out. Luckily for you, Liu has taught himself medical care. He's pretty damn good at treating wounds like this as well, so you're in really good hands.

Just... keep pressure on the wound for a moment while he quickly washes off all the blood on his hands.

You'll be okay. He'll make sure of it. He won't lose you.

SULLY.

Now, I bet you're expecting me to tell you that Sully would also go absolutely ham on the person who hurts you. No. He doesn't. Unlike Liu, he doesn't become overcome with pent-up rage.

He does get angry, don't get me wrong, but that anger isn't important. You're hurt, and you need immediate assistance, so Sully doesn't even spare the person a glance as he pulls out Liu's gun and shoots them in the head.

Sully is... less good at treating wounds. He tries his best whenever he sustains an injury, but Liu is always the one who has to take care of it.

But he does know where a certain eyeless man tends to lurk around, so he won't waste any time taking you to get treatment from him.

He'll keep the conversation topic light as you get treated, joking around with you and talking about anything and nothing at the same time. It keeps a smile on your face, and it keeps you distracted from the pain you're in.

It also keeps Sully distracted from the fact that his hands are shaking.

For a moment, he's not really sure why he's shaking so much. You're safe, and you're getting treated. It's only when you knock out after taking some pain meds that Sully finally realizes that he was scared.

You could've died, realistically. You probably would've if he hadn't been there.

He's never been so close to losing someone before. The thought alone was making his stomach churn. He's... he's never felt scared like this before.

This is probably when he realizes that he loves you.

THE BLOODY PAINTER.

Now, Helen isn't the most emotionally expressive person out there. Just one quick glance at his default expression and you'll come to the conclusion that he's a pretty apathetic person.

But you know him. You've learned how to identify his microexpressions. He had dropped by your place and walked in to see you treating a pretty bad cut on your arm. It was just a very slight shift in his expression, one that only lasted for a fraction of a second, but you could see the worry and the underlying anger.

It's actually pretty awkward as you explain to him what happened, going into detail about how some guy had just randomly decided to attack you when you were in town today.

Helen seemed to be taking in every detail you provided, and when he finally spoke up, it was to ask if you could describe the guy for him.

You had just assumed he was going to sketch the guy's face to give it to the police or something, so you didn't see any real issue with telling Helen, doing your best to describe what the guy looked like. You were honestly over the entire situation. The cut on your arm was bandaged and it didn't hurt much anymore.

The situation ended there for you. It was never brought up again, and Helen stayed the night to help you with anything that may be an inconvenience to do with an injured arm. It was sweet seeing him worried for you, if you're being honest.

It may take a few days, but Helen eventually did track down the person who had hurt you.

He treats them like any other victim, though it's obvious to authorities that this person had a particularly cruel death.

There is nothing tragically beautiful about this person's death. It is not a piece of art like all the other deaths were made out to be. This one still had their blood.

Honestly, their death feels so out of place for the case of the Bloody Painter that authorities are hesitant to consider this another one of his victims. It could be a dispute that led to murder, and in a panic was staged to make it look like a serial killer did it.

And you stay oblivious to this, none the wiser.

LAUGHING JILL.

Look, Jill truly felt as if she would never experience happiness ever again until you came into her life and made her realize that she can still feel such a thing.

You've basically become a source of joy for her, so there was no way in hell she'd ever let that go.

And when someone hurts you? When someone makes your face screw up in pain? It's an image that Jill never wanted to see. She's already lost someone close to her, stolen away from her by a monster. She can't lose you too. She just can't.

She also makes quick work of whoever hurt you, slicing them with her chainsaw once or twice before tossing it to the side and hurrying over to you.

You'll have to reassure her that you're okay as she lets you use her as a pillar of support. Even if you aren't okay, you need to reassure her that you are.

Jill doesn't know how to treat your wounds, something that will definitely change in the future once you're able to get actual treatment.

Honestly, she'll probably burst into tears and apologize profusely even though you getting hurt wasn't her fault. She still should've been there by your side. If she had been, you wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place.

She'll definitely be hyperaware of anyone who comes near you now. It doesn't matter if it's someone you're close to or if it's a complete and total stranger.

She'll immediately tense up and view them as a threat, sticking close to you just in case something happens.

It'll take months, maybe even years for her to move past this.

[ghostofashina]

Finally someone else who doesn't fall for Fia's 'uwugothmommy' atheistic 😭 I'm so tired of people saying she did nothing wrong

I have some issues with her ngl 💀 And how people treated her as innocent, well intentioned made it worse through these 2 years.

First off, because people might get it totally wrong: it's not the same of saying the Golden Order is good or must be protected. The whole situation is fucked up. My problems here are structural, rather than just picking up sides.

My main problem with her is that I can't take her benevolence for the TWLID as genuine for a very simple thing: she's alive, body and soul.

In fact, there ain't TWLID that can actually help us understand this is, in fact, what they want. They are just zombies, 100% aggressive, with no sign of conscience at all. And then, comes someone advocating for the life they quite... didn't choose?

I understand her reasons and that's the interesting part of the character. She was used over and over to lay with people she didn't want, and that's really fucked up. I too would seek vengeance.... but not by becoming what was done to me. Ok, you chose Godwyn. What then?

Then, my main issue on how people see her role in this scam: Godwyn cannot consent to the whole situation. He is a fish, a corpse with no soul, in a vegetative state. It's almost impossible that he knows what is happening to his body. But his body is alive and it's being used against his knowledge to a very fucked up situation that might swallow the whole world. The thing is so bad that Fortissax is inside him fighting death itself to try and save him. There's nothing good coming out of this.

Also, no one knew Godwyn would become the vessel for this curse and raise the dead and consume the world. So, again, it feels like an opportunity to be seized. TWLID become a means to an end. It never feels like it's a genuine desire to help them. Because it's a living human! That isn't dead! That still has a soul! And if Godwyn, the Prince of Death himself cannot consent to it, much less can this whole army of zombies, walking out of their graves to fight eternally. It does not seem a very good scenario.

So, I feel really difficulty to connect with her because she's a living human being. And yes, it might be character's facade. But it's so vague, her whole speech falls flat to me, because the link between her intentions and TWLID does not exist. So even being a quest I always do, I can't really make myself enjoy the character. And then, having lorebros in youtube making fanfiction of how poor, innocent she is, and how everyone against her is pure evil, made the whole thing worse to me. I'd have more interest if the character was treated as such: someone perpetuating the cycle of abuse, as almost every sigle character in the game.

[turttastic]

I completely agree that Blood and Cheese was not as well done as it was in the books but I feel like some of you guys are treating Helaena's lack of an observably emotional reaction as a lack of caring that her son died and I think we should put a stop to that right now bc it has somewhat ableist connotations.

For those who haven't heard of it, dissociation is a response in which a person's mind disconnects from the thoughts and feelings they are experiencing in order to cope with a traumatic situation. They may feel disconnected from the world around them, disconnected from their body, and/or like they are watching the experience happen to someone else, a character on a TV show rather than themselves. (Please note: this is not a comprehensive explanation of dissociation. I have not experienced it personally and I am not an expert).

Dissociation is not at all an uncommon or unlikely response, especially for someone like Helaena who is implied to have a history of abuse at the hands of Aegon (he mostly ignores you, except when he's drunk). Now, we haven't seen much of Helaena, especially her reactions to trauma and bloodshed, but we have seen SOMETHING. In the S1 scene where Vaemond is beheaded, she looks away and covers her ears. She doesn't scream or cry or panic as far as we can see, she looks away and tries to block out the noise. She clearly reacts, she is clearly overwhelmed and upset, but her reaction is not that of most people in the court. And again when Rhaenys and Melys appear at Aegon's coronation, her reaction is to freeze and stare rather than scream or cry or run (granted, all of the greens react that way in this scene, but hey theres really not much to go on here). So to a degree it tracks for me that her reaction to Blood and Cheese is to dissociate completely from that situation.

It's important to note that what was happening was not immediately apparent from Helaena's perspective. The camera first shows us Cheese with his knife to her throat, hand trembling to the point where he has already cut her neck. It's after that that Blood walks in and they have the conversation where they decide to kill one of her sons. To me, it seems likely that Helaena initially assumed they were after her, and had already passed through any initial panic and started to dissociate before that conversation even started. She sounds confused and distant when she tries to offer them her necklace. Even so, you can see her face go completely dead when it becomes apparent that they ARE going to kill one of her kids. She doesn't try to bargain because blood and cheese already had the "she's not a son" conversation right in front of her, so she knows what they want and knows they aren't going to consider an alternative. As for why she pointed at Jaeherys... what else was she supposed to do in that moment? Point at Jaehera and let her die instead? Point at neither of them and risk Blood and Cheese deciding to kill both to be sure they got the son? She has no bargaining power. Jaeherys might have been the male heir, but to Helaena they are BOTH her children whom are equally important, and losing Jaehera wouldn't hurt any less than losing Jaeherys. Or perhaps something led her to believe that pointing at one child would make them choose the other. Or perhaps her dreamer abilities showed her that any resistance or lie would result in an even worse outcome. We don't know the reason, and unfortunately that does make the scene a little bit confusing but it is NOT evidence that she doesn't care.

As they kill Jaeherys, Helaena calmly walks over to Jaehera, picks her up, and calmly walks out. Doesn't run. Walks. That is not the reaction of someone who doesn't care, that is the reaction of someone who is so deeply in shock that they've gone on autopilot. She walks straight to her mother's room, walks in on Alicent and Criston, and doesn't react to them having sex at all. She can't begin to process that because shes already completely overwhelmed. She just sits down on the floor with her surviving child. The thing that really locks it in as dissociation from me though is when she says "they killed the boy", completely and utterly calm. She says it like he wasn't her son, like she is completely detached from the situation, a casual observer from afar. Like that is straight up dissociation guys!!! She cares. She clearly cares and is horrified. Her reaction just isn't emotionally visceral in the way typically shown on TV. I think that it would have been easier to read her reaction for what it was if we'd spent more time with Helaena and seen more of her trauma responses, but please don't act like she had no reaction to the murder of her son.

[admirableadmiranda]

I recently read somewhere here (won't name them) that after the Guanyin Temple confession, Lan Wangji's actions were selfish. That he should have stayed there to comfort his brother who has just lost (and killed) the love of his life instead of f-ing of to screw the love of his life. The person has referenced chapter 110 (111 on some websites) where Lan Wangji says that even comfort from his brother by birth will be in vain.

I hope you will analyse that part. Because I think it is a translation issue. It doesn't sound like something Lan Wangji would say. I would have accepted that person's analysis if their post wasn't so blatantly anti-wangxian?

Well anon, the thing is that the person posting it does have the correct line. It’s not a translation issue.

The issue is their whole interpretation of the situation. Lan Xichen was not in love with Jin Guangyao, he did not kill the love of his life and this person is doing the same rude shit as a lot of people who don’t like Wangxian choosing each other over nebulous ideas of duty.

They are taking a narration line and putting it in Lan Wangji’s mouth from the sound of it, lemme grab it for you. It is from Chapter 111, right after Wei Wuxian reveals that the Guanyin in the temple looks like Jin Guangyao’s mother.

“[Wei Wuxian] turned and glanced back, letting out a rare sigh, “I don’t want to care about any of those nasty things anymore. This is it.”

Lan WangJi nodded and tightened Lil’ Apple’s reins. He continued to walk with it.

Each could only deal with their own troubles. Even if Lan XiChen was his brother by birth, Lan WangJi couldn’t do anything to help him right now. Comfort was useless. It’d all be in vain.”

Bolded line highlighted for necessary emphasis.

It’s just narration there, it’s being treated as a fact - and it is. The things that Lan Xichen needs right now are not things that Lan Wangji can provide him. Lan Xichen needs time and space to grapple with everything that he saw and his own role in all the events that came to pass. What could Lan Wangji do? Lan Xichen is confronting his own guilt both in what he participated in and what he looked aside from, things that brought irreparable harm to a lot of people including his brother and the love of his brother’s life.

How would Lan Wangji staying help anything there? Lan Xichen has just watched them cuddle through a siege, flirt and laugh and tell each other how much they loved each other. It is the one unquestioningly good thing to come out of that night, something that he wanted, for his brother to be happy. That’s the whole crux of his rant at Wei Wuxian, he wants his brother to be happy and he thinks that Wei Wuxian is knowingly toying with his feelings.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are already planning to elope even before anyone else gets there. They sneak off really quickly and easily. Lan Xichen is not looking for them, he’s busy telling Lan Qiren to shut up and let him think.

Lan Xichen is already filled with guilt and confusion over what’s happened, but also think about how much worse it would feel if he knew his brother set aside his own marriage and honeymoon to come sit with him, sacrificing his own happiness to Lan Xichen again, this time much more knowingly. That wouldn’t make him feel better. That wouldn’t make anyone who has a shred of empathy feel better. It is more likely a comfort to Lan Xichen to know that something good did come out of that terrible night.

They return three months later, when they are settled and choose to come back and then Lan Xichen is ready for that comfort. He wouldn’t have wanted it then. It was too soon and the cost of it would have been too high.

These brothers care about each other and know each other well and they are in their thirties. They are not helpless children any longer. Lan Xichen is not alone and suffering, he returns to his clan with hundreds of people living in it to pick up the ashes at his feet. He has solace in knowing that at least one person is happy and better off despite his actions in the matter. Let him have that.

I hate that stupid trend you reference in your post. I hate the idea that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have to continue sacrificing their lives and everything else to take care of the people around them first.

They have been parted by circumstance, homophobia, war, the aftermath of war and fucking death for twenty years. They have in fact actually gone through worse than most of the rest of the cast and somehow finally found their way back to each other and a happy ending. What more do people want before they are allowed to be selfish for once in their lives?

[turvi]

Almost-1

Remus shivered as a gush of cold wind hit his poorly covered body. His hands trembled as he fished out the pack of cigarettes, letting out a frustrated sigh when he found out only one was left. It wasn’t much but it gave Remus an illusion of warmth in this harsh winter. It was like he had forgotten what warmth felt like. Yet it doesn’t excuse the wallet in his pocket that he picked from a man in a three-piece suit who was too much in a rush to even look up from his phone. 

He shifted closer to the cold wall, facing towards the trashcan which seemed better than facing the bustling street of London. It was a farce really, when he knew no one would look his way and those who did made him feel worse. Their eyes were either filled with pity or disgust neither helping him the way he feels about his situation. However, how could he blame society when he was to blame for his condition? No one can blame these polished shops for not keeping him because it didn’t matter that he was overqualified. His condition made him unemployable. 

Despite the strong winds, it was a miracle Remus was able to light this cigarette. Soon his stomach grumbled. He took out some pennies from the man’s wallet, it was enough to get him a loaf of bread. He begrudgingly left his somewhat warm spot, trying his best to avoid people. When he walked back with the loaf of bread he saw a thick envelope below the stack of the newspapers he kept to burn. He looked around trying to figure out who left this envelope. He picked it up and went into the alleyway away from the peering eyes of the people on the streets. 

Once he made sure he was alone he opened the envelope to find a letter and a bundle of notes. He frantically took out the cash, counted it and scrutinized each note under the flickering street lamp. Someone had left him £2000. Under a normal circumstance, he would have just left the money and society would have patted his back for his morals. Unfortunately, Remus wouldn’t call himself moral now. He is filth to this society, no more the respectable professor who teaches young minds about the infinite opportunities they have that he doesn’t. He couldn’t even pursue his passion without missing from his work for days. 

He looked around, his heart beating faster as he anticipated someone to attack him. But there he stood alone under the flickering street lamp, with the bundle of money in his hands. He scoffed at his state. Remus looked like a parody version of himself. So hungry for money that he didn’t even think twice before putting the money in his pocket. He hated these kinds of people yet here he was ready to do anything for this amount of money. He picked up the discarded letter. His throat dried up when he read his name in the letter. It was better when he thought this envelope was for someone else:  

Mr. Lupin, 

Hope you are doing well. I wish I could say that but seeing your state that would be a lie. You went from a respectable professor to a pickpocketer. While it is very easy to get someone like you in jail I want to make an offer. I want you to go to Wales and get me someone. Now I am aware this is a much more serious crime than you usually do but I have connections and not only you can get away with it you will receive the double amount of cash that you received right now. Now Mr. Lupin I want you to imagine. I want you to imagine the power I have that I can easily get you out of this crime you are about to commit. I am a simple person. If I want something I get it by all means. So if you are unable to get this person for me I can very easily get you convicted for crimes you didn’t even commit. 

Choice is yours Mr. Lupin. If you choose to do this task for me kindly the letter in the envelope and leave it where you found it and you can go and get another loaf of bread…my treat. Although I warn you if you look back or try to “catch me” you will face consequences. If you don’t accept my offer kindly throw everything in the trashcan you call your home and patiently wait for your life to get worse. 

Warm Regards, 

Your Well Wisher. 

Dread filled his chest when Remus read the final words. A shiver ran down his spine. He couldn’t help but feel eyes on him now even though he was standing in a desolate alleyway. He couldn’t even close his eyes the words of the letter flashed in front of his eyes reminding him of the situation he was in and that there was no escape he had.  

Remus made the decision. He looked at the bundle of money in his hand in disgust laying back against the cold wall hoping to find some comfort but he had forgotten that feeling too. He slowly walked towards his spot putting the envelope under the stack of newspapers and walking with no destination in mind.

A/N: COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. And if you wanna tag let me know.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you think gay marriage is legalized in the WW (at least in Harry’s time in the 90s)? I lean towards no as I don’t really see the WW being that anymore progressive (most likely less) than we are when it comes to sexuality (Also I don’t think it helps that they are a culture that highly values continuing the magical bloodlines). What’s your take?

I agree with you here. I don't think it's likely that they legalized same-sex marriages.

In Hogwarts Legacy, there are Nora and Priya Tradwell who are two women who were married to each other in 1890. That being said, I don't really consider HL 100% canon since other aspects of it contradict the books (the castle is gorgeous but why is the potions classroom not in the dungeons?!). So, I'm kinda picking and choosing what's canon when it comes to the video games.

But in the books, we don't see any indication that it's legal or treated any differently than in the muggle world at the time.

The only real reference I could recall from the books to anything gay (explicitly) is Dudley taunting Harry about being gay (because this happened):

“What d’you mean, I’m not brave in bed?” said Harry, completely nonplussed. “What — am I supposed to be frightened of pillows or something?” “I heard you last night,” said Dudley breathlessly. “Talking in your sleep. Moaning.” “What d’you mean?” Harry said again, but there was a cold, plunging sensation in his stomach. He had revisited the graveyard last night in his dreams. Dudley gave a harsh bark of laughter then adopted a high-pitched, whimpering voice. “ ‘Don’t kill Cedric! Don’t kill Cedric!’ Who’s Cedric — your boyfriend?” “I — you’re lying —” said Harry automatically. But his mouth had gone dry. He knew Dudley wasn’t lying — how else would he know about Cedric? “ ‘Dad! Help me, Dad! He’s going to kill me, Dad! Boo-hoo!’ ” “Shut up,” said Harry quietly. “Shut up, Dudley, I’m warning you!” “ ‘Come and help me, Dad! Mum, come and help me! He’s killed Cedric! Dad, help me! He’s going to —’ Don’t you point that thing at me!” Dudley backed into the alley wall. Harry was pointing the wand directly at Dudley’s heart. Harry could feel fourteen years’ hatred of Dudley pounding in his veins — what wouldn’t he give to strike now, to jinx Dudley so thoroughly he’d have to crawl home like an insect, struck dumb, sprouting feelers — “Don’t ever talk about that again,” Harry snarled. “D’you understand me?”

(OotP, 15)

I can't say much more than Harry is bothered, whether it is about the assumption that Cedric is his boyfriend or that Dudley makes fun of Cedric's death is up to guesswork (I think it's probably a bit of both). But it doesn't appear other sexualities are any more accepted or openly talked about in the WW compared to the muggle one. I'd say even less in all likelihood.

I also agree with you on how important having children and continuing the family line is for pure-bloods (which is at least 50% of their population), I doubt they encourage gay marriage. Honestly, the more accepting pure-bloods probably treat it like: "Sleep with whoever you want in your free time, but get married and give us an heir", while other families are probably worse.

That being said, we do see on the family tapestry that both Alphard Black and Cassiopia Black didn't get married or have kids, so if you have enough siblings to carry the family line for you, you could get away with not getting married and having children. But with how Andromeda was disowned for marrying a muggleborn, it's likely anything less than the perfect pure-blood marriage would have had to stay fairly hidden for you to not get disowned.

I also agree that with how archaic many aspects of their culture are (from quills to their education standards, to candles, to the fact canning students was practiced at Hogwarts when Molly and Arthur Weasley were students, etc...), it's highly unlikely they're more progressive than muggles when it comes to, well, anything. Like, indoor plumbing supposedly came to Hogwarts in the 18th century alongside the muggle advancements in this field, but it was noted in Pottermore that wizards rarely copy from muggles to such a degree. So, I don't think wizards would be pioneering gay rights or anything like that.

So, yeah, I agree, I don't think same-sex couples could legally get married in the Wizarding World as there is no indication they can, but I don't think they're getting executed either (as was the case in the UK in the late 19th century), so, there's at least that. I think it's treated like a dirty secret that'll cause a scandal in some circles, but it's not illegal to be gay in the WW.

[seospicybin]

VESPER.

PART I

Hyunjin x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: PART II / ONE DANCE.

Synopsis: You've been praying every night for someone like Hyunjin to come and when he finally did, you doubt that he would approve your job as a stripper. (11,2k words)

Author's note: Happy birthday to the sexiest dumpling, Hwang Hyunjin!

For the record, you're not a religious person.

However, there's a prayer you make at night and that is someday you'll find your man.

You keep your prayer still despite knowing how vile, how rude, how nefarious a man can be. You keep a firm belief that you'll find your mate soon and but not here, not in this place where you're working at, anywhere but here.

"Hey, dirty blond!" A man shouts from across the room against the music playing in the club.

It's unclear who that man is calling but based on the way he keeps waving his hand at you and you're wearing a blonde wig, you're sure it's you.

You walk up to a table of three of them in black suits, you guess they're probably coworkers.

"You boys want a dance?" You offer with a smile.

The man who called you pats the shoulder of the man sitting next to him, "it's my friend's birthday and I want to make sure he's having a fun time," he says.

The birthday boy shyly smiles while stealing glances at you.

"Fun time, huh? I think I can do that," you say with a friendly laugh.

The man pulls out his credit card and hands it to you, "please, take care of him well, gorgeous!" He adds.

You lean on their table and take the credit card from him, "with pleasure," you reply with a flirty smile.

The birthday boy is too shy to come with you, you end up getting him up the chair and linking your arm with him. His friends cheer as you both walk up the stairs.

"I'm sorry for the way my friends addressed you," he says with a quivering voice.

You went through so many things that to be called by the color of your wig is nothing to you.

"That's okay. I've been called worse," you assure him.

It's not every day you found a man who is aware of what his friends did wrong and apologized on their behalf of them.

"You have good friends," you add.

He awkwardly smiles, "no, not really."

"They treat you to a lap dance on your birthday," you say.

You have enough proof of why this shy boy's friends are in a good category because not once have you found a bunch of men telling you to give their friend a dance but none of them offers to pay for it.

Not with his, they are willing to spend some money just so their friend can have a really good time.

You hand the credit card to the staff who works there to pay for the champagne room and hand it back to the shy birthday boy to give back to his friends.

"Okay, come," you lead him through the room the staff assigned you to.

The room has its walls covered in velvet which matches the sofa with the light set to low.

You start by picking some songs to play in the room while the birthday boy is looking awkward just standing there, doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Why don't you take a seat and get comfortable," you tell him.

He obeys right away, sitting on the sofa and sitting so awkwardly with both hands on his lap.

“May I know your name?" He asks as you finally settle on a song.

"Vesper," you answer with your fake name, one you always use at work.

It's a name you choose yourself, it comes from Latin words meaning evening star and it's also because you think of yourself as Venus at night.

The birthday boy swallows as you stand in front of him in your black lingerie and looks down, "you have a very beautiful name!"

Of course, a nice guy like him would think that's your real name, "what about you?" You ask back.

"Lee," he answers.

"Happy birthday Lee!" You say as you walk up to him and start moving your body with the slow rhythm of the song playing in the room.

"I have to tell you that it's my— it's my first time getting a lap dance," he stutters.

Even from the first time you met him, you can also tell that it's his first time coming to a strip club.

You come up to him and place your hand on his shoulder, "Well then I have to make it extra special since it's your birthday and your first time," you say.

You glide your hand down to his chest and feel his heart pounding under your palm, "your heart is beating so fast."

"Y‐yeah," he shyly answers and wipes the sheen of sweat on his forehead, nervous.

You bend down in front of him and ask in a low voice, "Are you scared or excited?"

He shrugs then says, "both."

You let out a low chuckle, "don't worry, I promised your friend to give you a good time."

You put your other hand on his chest and look at him, "so relax..."

You slowly lower yourself on his lap then say, "and enjoy."

-

All of these eyes are on you.

You're supposed to be the one looking at them but it's the opposite, you feel like you are the painting and not the other way around.

Wish you could understand paintings, you wonder how these people who attended the art gallery get to talk about them like they're reviewing a book while here you are, trying not to be intimidated by all the stares you got from these people in a painting.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" A voice says.

You didn't know someone is standing next to you and looking at the same painting with you until you turn your head to the side.

"Oh, well, I'm just wondering why the little girl is giving me the side eyes," you playfully remarked.

He softly chuckles and lightly nods, "yeah, she's looking not happy."

One look is enough to know that he's tall and 60 percent of that height goes to his legs and the 10 percent is the dark long hair that curtained his small face. His eyes, nose, lips, and everything on his face complement each other

You have to actively tell your brain to stop staring at his beautiful face.

"I don't understand a thing about paintings," you mutter and everyone can probably see how out of place you are. You are here for something else not to look at these art pieces that you know you don't have the capability to comprehend it.

"You're lucky that I'm here then," he says with a nice smile.

You smile back but resist the urge to look at him, God knows that you'll not stop staring once you do. You keep looking straight ahead and endure the side eyes of the little girl in the painting instead.

"This is Las Meninas by Diago Velázquez," he introduces you even though there's already a card with a short introduction of the painting below it.

"It's a nice painting, right?" He asks with his body turned at you.

You nod even though you're not sure if it's 'artistically' nice based on your judgment as someone who doesn't know anything about art. But is it pleasing to the eyes? Yes.

"But what makes this painting so interesting is because it has a secret illusion," he says with a suppressed excitement in his voice.

You tip your head to the side, "really?"

"A lot is going on here but let's break it down," he then takes a step closer to your side to explain further about the painting.

"First, the little girl is giving you the side eye," he starts.

"Yes."

"Then these people must be her entourage," he says as his hand to point the part of the painting he's explaining to you.

"Someone is creeping in the back steps, there's the painter, and then..." he glances at you before continuing to speak.

It gets you intrigued that you turn to face him unintentionally, "what?"

"You see that mirror on the back wall?" He asks.

"That's a mirror?" You ask back since you didn't notice it before.

"Yes, and the reflection in the mirror is meant to be us."

"Us?" You sound like you heard that word for the first time in your life but liked it without knowing the meaning of it.

He nods and lines himself to stand right next to you then looks back at the painting.

"With all that considered, from where we're standing as the viewers, we're the ones being painted looking at the rest of the room."

He gently places his hand on your shoulder and turns your body slightly to the left to make you look at a certain part of the painting.

"The square shape coming off the side, that's the canvas, and that guy..." he pointed to the guy holding a brush in one hand and a pallet in the other, "he's painting us."

It's like someone flips the switch in your head and the light bulb finally lights up, everything makes sense to you now. It seems like he’s the one who's enjoying your moment of enlightenment the most.

"In the present time, we're getting used to this perspective because we have things like phones which make us understand this perspective of being behind or in front of a camera," he eloquently explains as if he memorized the textbook explanation of it.

"But he made this painting in 1656 and this perspective thing must be trippy for its time. That's what makes this painting so groundbreaking," he finished.

"Wow!" That's all you can mutter as you try to process all of these pieces of information in your head.

On the other hand, it's nice to hear an explanation from someone who knows what he's talking about and doing it so passionately. Not only that it's very informative, but also, low-key hot.

There's just something about a person who talks about something he truly passionate about.

"I am indeed lucky that you're here," you playfully remark with a low laugh.

You've been avoiding looking at him long enough that it feels impolite, slowly you turn your body to face him. You find him shyly smiling and brushing his hair to the back.

"Are you working here?"

He lifts his head but now it's his turn to avoid your eyes, "No, but I'm a painter."

"Oh, that explains!" You say.

When he finally meets your gaze, your heart skips a beat and you stop breathing for a second which is something that rarely happens to you when you've seen so many kinds of men when you're at work.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you here if not for the paintings?" He asks.

A man with manner, that's a first. You confidently look at him as you speak, "my friend works here and I'm waiting for her so may as well look around..."

"Your friend is a curator?" He wildly guesses.

"No," you answer, "she's working at the front desk. You probably saw her when you came in."

"Ah..." he nods.

There's a silence going on for a moment and he brushes his hair to the back, looking like he hesitates to ask you something.

You decide to keep the conversation going, "are you coming alone?"

He sheepishly smiles, "no, I'm coming with a friend," he proceeds to point at a guy with bleached blond hair who's looking at a painting on another side of the gallery.

Somehow you feel good that he makes it clear that he comes with a friend or maybe it's your question that is pretty much the equivalent of asking if he's single or not.

Your phone vibrates inside your purse and you open it to check a new message from your friend, telling you that she's already waiting in the lobby.

"I'm sorry but my friend is already waiting," you say to him.

He looks at you, then at your phone, "can I have your number?"

You offer your phone instead to him, "why don't you put your number on mine?"

He takes it from you and types his numbers on it, then hits the call button so he can have your numbers on his phone as well.

He introduces himself as he hands your phone back to you, "I'm Hyunjin."

He offers his big hand with slender fingers with bracelets around on his dainty wrist for a handshake.

You shake his hand and introduce yourself back to him, his hand is cold but once you see his smile, you feel warm all over.

You're not sure if his personality will match his beautiful appearance because you can’t decide on it yet.

But is he pleasing to the eyes? The answer is a million times yes.

-

It's a slow night.

You decide to get off early after working 6 hours and paid the house fee, the DJ, the room, and the house mom on the way out. After all that deductions, you go home with $360 in total.

It's only a little after midnight when you arrived home, you eat some food with the noise from the TV playing in the background to fill the quiet of your apartment. Hit the shower after then sleep.

Not without taking a few minutes for your silly night prayer and an extra minute to pray that the man you'll be seeing tomorrow is the one.

It takes you less time to get ready for the date and more layers of clothes than when you have to get ready for work. And you get to feel the warm spring sun even though it's close to twilight.

Hyunjin is dressed nicely in a black sweater and blue jeans, his dark hair is shining under the pale sunlight. A smile rises on his face the moment he lands his eyes on you.

"I'm sorry for making you wait," you say as you stand in front of him.

"No, I only got here a few minutes ago," he assures you.

You nod, "so, what are we going to do today?"

He licks his lower lip before speaking, "I have two tickets to the art gallery," he pulls them out of the pocket of his jeans.

"But we can do anything else if you want," he quickly adds.

You smile at him, "why would I skip on a chance to get a free art lesson?"

He lets out a soft chuckle and brushes his hair to the back, "well, it's not free," he says.

You tip your head to the side and slyly smile at him, he looked so gorgeous in this light of golden bursts of sunset, making him glow like an ethereal being.

"You can pay with dinner," he says.

It's hard not to get flustered, he just knows how to soften the moment, "Well, that wouldn't be a problem."

You're not feeling out of place this time. Hyunjin is patiently telling you these bits about the painting you're looking at together but despite all of these beautiful pieces of art, he's the most beautiful here.

"I want to show you this," he leads you to another part of the gallery. Seeing you trailing behind him, he grabs your hand to walk together to the painting he wanted to show you.

"It's the last day you can see this," he says as he stops in front of a painting framed with glass which proves that it's very valuable.

The small painting depicts a distressed-looking man in a straw hat and your little understanding of paintings can't find what's so interesting about this.

"There are 35 self-portrait paintings of Vincent and for many years, art historians believed that this was one of them," Hyunjin explains.

You know so little about art but you're certain that you have seen an image of Vincent van Gogh at least once on the internet. He's the famous painter, The Starry Night.

"It was revealed over 120 years after its creation that the painting was not an image of Vincent but rather was a painting of his brother, Theo."

You softly gasp in response to this newfound information and take a closer look at the small yet painted in considerable detail.

"Unfortunately, there is no decisive evidence to determine who is actually portrayed which is why the painting now has a double title," Hyunjin furtherly explains.

He then trails his hand on the painting information plaque and shows you the double title he mentioned, 'self-portrait or portrait of Theo van Gogh'.

"I would have mistaken him too because of the uncanny resemblance," you say still in awe.

Hyunjin places a hand on the small of your back and gently takes you a little to the side to make space for a group of people wanting to look at the painting.

"It was Theo who supported Vincent to be an artist, emotionally and financially so Vincent can devote himself entirely to painting," Hyunjin eloquently explains as if this knowledge has been kept in his head for too long and he is finally able to let it out.

"He kept every letter Vincent sent to him, he named his son after him, he died six months after Vincent's death and was buried next to him," he finishes.

You look at Hyunjin while he's looking at the painting, "That's beautiful!"

He turns and looks you right in the eyes, "beautiful, yeah."

And you know he isn’t talking about the painting with those starry eyes.

-

After dinner, you take a stroll along the row of cherry blossom trees with their petals swirling in the air and enjoying the warm spring night. You used to think all of these couples having dates in the park are so cliché but now you’re a part of it.

"Want to take a seat?" Hyunjin offers as he spots an empty bench.

"Yes," you let him lead you there and sit together while looking at the river.

"I haven't gone on a date for a long time so I hope I didn't bore you," he suddenly says, nervously wiping his palms against his jeans.

"If that's the case then I'd leave earlier," you shortly reply with a sly smile.

He turns his body on his seat to face you, "I'm a painter so I'm not good with words," he says.

"Are you working on something at the moment?" You ask out of pure curiosity. You want to know how an artist works and compare it with yours.

"I have two more paintings to finish for an exhibition," he answers.

"That's a huge thing, right? To have an exhibition?"

Hyunjin adorably scrunches his nose as he thinks of an answer, "I guess."

He's just too humble to say yes when you know for sure not all artist can have their exhibitions, "so when is this exhibition?"

"Less than two months away," he says while tucking the stray hair falling over his face.

"I'd love for you to come," he eagerly says, "I know it's still less than two months away and I haven't finished my paintings but—" he stops himself from talking by taking a deep breath. He's blabbering and it's cute.

"I'd love to come," you say to him.

Hyunjin sheepishly smiles, "only if you're not busy, of course," he adds, "I'm sorry but what are you working as again?"

Truthfully, Hyunjin hasn't asked about your job at all, the whole dinner you kept asking about him and a part of the reason is that you don't want to tell anything about yourself.

"I'm a dancer," you settle with a simple answer that he can easily digest.

"A dancer? Are you a part of a dance company or an academy?" He asks as a cherry blossom petal makes a landing on his shoulder.

Hyunjin seems to be delighted to hear that and you hate to ruin that, you decide to end the talk.

"You have something..." your hand reaches for the cherry blossom petal off his shoulder and blows it away.

He also turns to look at you and says, "you also have one on your hair."

You grope around your hair to find the petal stuck to your hair, then he grabs your hand to stop you.

"I'll get it for you," he helps you by taking something from the crown of your hair. He proceeds to fix your hair by brushing it with his fingers. He got so incredibly close that you can see the tiny dot of mole under his left eye and his dark eyelashes that curl beautifully.

There can't be a more perfect time to kiss than now with Hyunjin's eyes fixated on your lips and you've been wondering how soft his lips would be like on yours. Then he swallows air as if he refrained from letting something out of him, possibly the courage to kiss you.

"It's getting late," he says and nervously looks away from you, "I'd better drive you home."

Hyunjin stays quiet the whole ride home and you start to think what have you done wrong? Was he comfortable when you thought he was going to kiss you?

"You can stop right here," you say as the car approaches the front of your apartment building.

Hyunjin obeys and turns off the car engine, the moment passes in silence as he only watches you unbuckle your seat belt.

Maybe he knew that you lied about your job?

"Thank you for the ride home," you tell him with a smile.

He keeps looking straight ahead, "no worries," he replies.

Or maybe it was you who bore him? You don't want to keep guessing and fill your head with negative thoughts. Hyunjin has been nothing but nice and lovely, let’s end the note there.

"I had a nice date," you say to him.

"Me too," he shortly replies.

Better not to prolong this pain, you tell yourself and take your purse with you, "Goodnight!"

He doesn't say anything back to you and you take this as your cue to get out of the car. You look at him through the windshield and wave your hand at him before making your way inside. As you wait for the elevator to arrive, you can't help but wonder what changed. Then you hear footsteps coming towards you and you turn around to see who it is.

"Hey, wait," he shouts as he stops right in front of you, panting.

And you don't want to pressure him to explain what just happened, "no, it's fine. I was just confused," you assure him, "you don't have to run out of your car—"

"I like you," he cuts you off with a surprising confession, "a lot. I like you a lot. I do."

That's enough to make you stay on your feet and hear what he has to say.

"I was too in my head about it and I don't want to come off too strong," he meekly explains as he looks down for a while to muster up the courage to continue talking, "you're beautiful and kind and curious and sometimes when people give me attention it overwhelmed me but not you. I like being with you, I—" he pauses to take a breath.

He dryly laughs, "see? I'm bad with words."

You take steps closer to him and not stopping until your bodies collided, you wrap your hand around his neck, then kiss him.

It's way softer than you imagined, his lips are as soft as the cherry blossom petals blowing in the wind.

It takes him a second to return the kiss to you, brushing his lips over yours with his hand on the side of your face, holding you still and deepening the kiss.

You slowly pull away with a faint smile and lowly gasp, "I'm bad with words too," you tell him.

Hyunjin smiles with his eyes half shut and thumb lazily rubbing your cheek, this time he confidently gives you a long, lingering kiss on your lips.

"Goodnight," he softly says as he lets go of the kiss.

You let him slip away and walk into the elevator as it chimes open, you wave your hand at him before it closes. As much as you like him, you don't want to get your hopes up, especially when you haven't told him the truth about yourself.

-

You just paid the DJ for playing the song of your choice for your dance, then sit in the empty booth when someone calls for you from a table nearby.

You turn to face him, "hi, how's your night going?" You ask with a smile.

There are two of them but only of them is interested in your offer, he looks at you and says, "can you get up?"

It's not the weirdest request you ever heard. Most men are looking for someone with their 'favorite type' of body and in your line of work, it's normal to be judged objectively.

You obey and get up from your seat, you tuck your foot to the front which is a pose you learn to accentuate every curve of your body.

"Do a twirl for me!" He orders once again.

You do what he says without complaint, it's only a twirl. When you're back facing him again, his friend lets out a snort, then says, "you should have never asked."

So much for the highlight of your night!

You come home with roughly $900 from 7 hours of working and yeah, the money is great, but you have to deal with mean or rude comments like that on top of having to compare yourself to other girls.

It's a job that requires you to have tough skin and not to take it personally.

When you meet Hyunjin again for your second date, it's like you're living in a different world that is so vibrant and warm. He wears a knitted sweater in a cobalt blue color and washed jeans that make him appear taller than he already is.

"Do you want to do something today?" He asks.

You're a little out of it from the lack of sleep and fatigue from working all night, you don't want to walk around searching for a place to talk or take another stroll in the park.

"I'd like to see your studio if you don't mind," you say.

It seems like he didn't expect that answer, "Oh?"

"Am I allowed?" You ask with an awkward smile, regretting that you make him feel pressured by your request.

"Yes," he eagerly answers then tucks his hair behind his ear, "it's just a little messy I'm not sure you'll..." his words trail off as he looks at you with a cringe on his face.

"That's okay. I can handle a little messy," you say to him.

What you didn't expect though is that he lives in there too. You see his unmade bed in the corner of this spacious studio where one side of the room is littered with specks of paint and canvases lining up the wall.

"What are those?" You ask to the paintings covered with a white cloth.

A smirk dances on his face and he walks backward to uncover the paintings, "you'll be the first to see these paintings," he says.

Your eyes dart to his, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

He shrugs with a sly grin, "I want you to," he simply answers.

He then pulls the cloth off of them one by one, revealing the paintings he made for the exhibition.

They're all paintings of flowers, each has a different combination of colors but they're most of the color blue in every hue. They look so incredibly real that you feel like wanting to touch them and feel their soft petals.

Hyunjin takes a step backward to give you a space to observe his paintings.

"Can I touch?" You hesitantly ask.

"Yeah," he shortly replies, "the paints have dried so you can touch them."

With his permission, you allow yourself to take a closer at each painting. It amazes you that all of those strokes of paint create something as beautiful as this. Too bad that you can't fully fathom what these paintings make you feel into words.

"They're beautiful!" That's all you can mutter to him when he asked what you think about his paintings. He hands you a glass of wine then takes a seat next to you on the end of his bed since he doesn't recommend you to sit on the sofa because it's splattered with paint.

"I'm bad with words," you remind him and clink your glass together with him before taking a sip.

"That's okay," he says, then he puts his wine glass away to lean his hands behind him on the bed.

"We don't need praise or acknowledgment. We all just want to be understood, right?"

The reason Hyunjin asks you that is probably because he knows you're also an artist in a different medium. You wouldn't call yourself an artist because you're not a ballerina who dances to Tchaikovsky on a big stage, you're just a stripper who dances at the strip club.

"By that, I mean me with my paintings and you with your dancing," he adds.

And suddenly, you feel like you're no longer a part of this world that Hyunjin lives in.

"I'd love to see you dance someday," he suddenly says.

Someday sounds hopeful and that means he wants to see you in foreseeable future but you can also see the disappointment overshadows it.

"Why not now?" You ask back.

Hyunjin turns rigid like he has just heard something shocking and looks straight ahead.

"Play something," you tell him.

He glances at you, "you're going to dance? Right here? Right now?"

His confounded face amuses you that you forget you're anxious, "yeah."

You get up from the bed as he gropes around the pocket of his jeans, looking for his phone. First, you take off your shoes and go barefoot to stand just a few feet away from him. After a minute, Hyunjin finally starts playing a song from his phone and turns the volume high until it replaces the quiet space of his studio.

He looks nervous although you haven't moved any part of your body to the slow tempo of the music playing. You have done this a million times, faking your confidence even though you're shuddering with anxiety inside.

You start moving and freely dance to the song, just trying to express what you feel like your body is trying to tell him. That in this world with Hyunjin in it, you want him to see you past your flaws.

The smile doesn't leave his face the whole time he's watching you dance in the middle of the room. The song is about to come to an end so you make your way to him and stop at the same time the song finishes.

He looks up at you still with the same soft smile plastered on his face.

You want him to like what he sees so you unzip your dress and let it drop onto the floor, let it pool around your ankle.

"Do you like what you see?" You ask him.

His eyes widen in awe as if he's seeing something that is beyond his level of comprehension.

"I like it," he replies with a dreamy sigh.

You step out of your dress and approach him, slowly lowering yourself on his lap, and straddling him. Using your thumb, you swipe his lower lip before slowly putting your lips on his.

And you want to feel his skin on yours. Your hands slide down his front to grab the hem of his sweater and take it off of him, laughing as his ear got caught in the process.

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologize but your eyes suddenly got distracted by the muscles on his arms and abdomen, firm and perfectly sculpted.

He laughs as well and puts the sweater away, "that's okay," he says as he looks up at you, wrapping his hands around you to pull you close.

He leans in and captures your lips in a rapturous kiss that is both gentle and hungry, he pries your mouth open with his tongue to invade you, tasting more of you. His hand snakes under the elastic band of your bra and he gasps into your mouth once he succeeded to unclasp it. You reluctantly break the kiss to help him get it off of you.

Slowly, he slides both straps down your arms simultaneously but his eyes are looking into you, intensely and flickering with lust. Hyunjin doesn't waste time putting his lips on your skin, first is on your neck, second is on the base of your throat and forcing you to crane your neck for him.

From there, he makes small kisses down your chest to your sternum and stays like that for a moment. He tightens the hold around you and gently lay himself down on the bed with you staying on top of him, he eventually flips you over and has you under.

Your hand slips inside his hair, silky hair slipping through your fingers as he plants kisses all over your chest, "Hyunjin?"

He abruptly stops kissing to look at you, "yeah?"

You take his hand and press it against the side of your face, "do you like what you see?"

It confuses him because you asked this before but he gets the real meaning behind your question after taking a minute to think.

He gives a gentle caress on your face that makes your heart flutters, "are you kidding me?" He asks in disbelief but in a rather soft tone, "You are undeniably beautiful!"

You can feel that he's being sincere your heart aches the moment you hear it. You bring his face close to yours and put your lips against his, expressing what you need to tell him through the kiss, that you like him and you want him to like you back.

"You feel so good," he murmurs to you with a haste kiss on your lips.

Hyunjin has been nothing but attentive and gentle with you, he thrusts into you at a slow, steady pace with his eyes boring into you, making you feel more naked than you already are. His kisses are fiery and passionate but you don't mind any of it when it feels like you're kissing cotton candy, sweet and pillowy.

"And oh... you keep clenching around me," he says with an overwhelmed sigh.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and plants his mouth there, kissing and nibbling your skin. His free hand gropes around the bed to search for your hand and interlaced it with yours.

"Cum together, yeah?" He tells you with another haste kiss on your open mouth.

Your brain is clouded with pleasure that you're unable to form a verbal answer, you respond with eager nods instead.

The room is quiet except for the sounds of your bodies colliding and moans that grow louder spilling out of your mouths as you both take each other closer to the edge.

Hyunjin hastily presses a hard, deep kiss as he comes to his release a little after you while you still catch your breath from your orgasm.

"I think that was the best sex I've ever had," he shamelessly admits while spooning you from behind, his hand intertwined with yours.

You don't know how to respond to that because, on the other hand, you don't want to compare him with your previous sexual partners. That doesn't stop you from saying that he's exceptional, he makes it more than just physical fulfillment. You turn your head to meet his gaze and smile, "I like you, Hyunjin."

He puts your hair to the side and places an affectionate kiss on your cheek, "I like you too. A lot."

The morning casts pale sunlight on his bare body that makes him glow bright like a yellow daffodil under the sun. You've been sitting on the side of the bed watching him sleeping and wondering if things would change once you told him the truth about you.

For one, he deserves to know the truth but you're not ready for that, not when there's the possibility that you'll lose him. You decide to take a step back and give yourself time to muster the courage to tell him everything.

So for now, you land a gentle caress on his beautiful face and say, "I hope we'll meet again."

-

White icing and rainbow sprinkles, you've been having the same birthday cake since you were twelve. As you grow up, you stop asking to have your birthday celebrated but your mother always insists.

It's the same thing this year, you sit with your family at the dining table with your cake in front of you and they're singing you a birthday song. Except for your father, he stops speaking with you the day you told him what your job is.

"Don't forget to make a wish!" Your mother says.

You pretend to make one in your heart and blow the candles off, smiling when you look up at them.

"Happy birthday!" Your mother puts her hand around your shoulder and places a kiss on your cheek.

Your father doesn't say anything but left the dining table and your mother senses that she needs to distract you from it, "Let's cut the cake!"

Your younger brother takes the next turn and hugs you, he's much taller than you now that he's in college.

"Happy birthday!" He wishes you then gives you a small box wrapped in silver and blue ribbons.

"What is this?" You glare at him, "I told you not to gift me anything."

He nonchalantly shrugs, "don't get ahead of yourself and take it," he playfully remarks.

A smile rises on your face, "thank you!"

"Open it!" He says.

"Okay, okay," you hastily unwrap the box and open it to find a pair of silver earrings.

"My friend helped me pick this," he sheepishly says.

From the way he got flustered, you got a feeling that this friend is more than just that, "whoever she is, she has good taste. I approve!"

He nervously laughs and drinks his glass of cola, "Nah, I'm going to study hard and pay you back," he says.

You nudge his elbow with yours, "it's okay to have fun in a while. Also, I never asked you to pay me back," you remind him with an intense stare.

Your mother places something in front of you as well, "I think it'll look good on you," she says.

Without looking, you already know that she gives you another lipstick because she always does that too whenever you visit her salon.

"Thank you, mom!" You say again as you check the color she picked for you this time, it's a coral red.

She stays with you at the dining table while eating the cake together, "so, are you seeing anyone lately?"

The last thing you want to be reminded of besides your father still won't talk to you is that you still haven't contacted Hyunjin since that day you left him. You know it's not fair for him but you can't look at him and lie to his face again.

"I was," you answer, picking a dollop of icing cream off your cake and licking it.

Your mother rolls her eyes dramatically, "what is it this time?" She asks.

You slump in your chair, "he's too nice, mom, and too... beautiful," you say as an image of Hyunjin's face vividly flashes in front of you.

"What's so bad about that?” Your mother asks a little too aggressively, "you always look at the wrong in a guy. He's too nice, he's too happy, he's too hot..." she heavily sighs.

You chuckle watching her take a spoonful of cake and shove it into her mouth, annoyed by what you said.

"I get it if he's too beautiful, it'll fade in time but he's nice and that's good, that means he'll try to understand you," she says.

She takes a piece of cake on your cake, "isn't that what you want? Someone who understands you?"

You slightly shrug, also confounded by your way of seeing things when it's simple as that, it's you who complicate things.

When it's time to go home, your mother insists on you taking the rest of the cake with you and having your brother drives you home.

"I'm going home, dad!" You tell him as you stand before the front door.

He doesn't reply but nods at you which is better than nothing. Your mother gives you a long hug on your way out, "come next week to get your haircut, okay?"

"Okay," you say back and kiss her on the cheek.

"Take your vitamins, drink lots of water, and stop biting your nails!" She ends her talk with a warning glare and walks with you out of the door.

Your brother is already waiting in the car when you get in and is typing on his phone.

"Let's get you home first," you say.

"It's okay, I can take a taxi from your place," he assures you because that's what he usually does.

You put on a seat belt, "I'm not going home."

"Where are you going?" He asks.

"Somewhere," you vaguely answer with a smirk on.

He squints at you, "and where is this somewhere?"

"Since when do you get nosy at your sister?" You tease him despite knowing that he's just being a protective brother for you and you're grateful for that

He puts his hands off the steering wheel and laughs, "Okay, no more questions asked!"

Your brother hugs you as you get out of the car to switch places with him, he ignores the jeers coming from the students hanging out on the balcony.

"Drive carefully!" He says before you get into the driver's seat.

You don't even have to think twice about going here but you take a long moment on knocking on the door of his studio, afraid that you're unwelcomed after ignoring his calls and texts for two weeks. You swallow your pride and knock on his door, three times until he finally opens the door.

"Hi!" You know it's not a good impression to act like you haven't ghosted him for the last few days.

Hyunjin seems a little perplexed like he's seeing something that he doesn't know whether it's real or not.

"I'm sorry for coming late at night like this," you say with a sheepish smile. Not sure if he considers 10 pm as late but who knows?

After a moment, it finally registered to him that you are real and speaking to him.

"Oh, sorry for just standing, come in!" He says and opens the door wide to let you inside.

You bring the cake you brought from home with you and place it on the small, round dining table he has in the studio.

"What do you bring with you?" He asks, standing next to the table with hands on his waist.

You open the box to reveal the half-eaten cake inside and show it to him.

"A birthday cake?" He asks and uses his finger to get a piece of the icing cream to taste it, "whose birthday is it?"

"Mine."

Hyunjin's mouth hung open, he seems to be surprised that it's your birthday and that you don't tell him about it. He thinks of something and looks around, "I'll get us drinks," he says.

He returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, taking them to the dining table.

"I hope this goes well with the cake," he says as he sits next to you, then fills both of your glasses with the crimson-colored drink. He seems so calm and somehow that makes you even more nervous to start talking. But this is the only way and sometimes the only way is through.

"Hyunjin," you call.

"Yes?" He stirs the wine by shaking the glass in circular motions.

"I'm sorry that I left in the morning and not taking your calls," you start by clearing the air between you.

He stares at the whirlpool inside his wine glass and softly exhales, "I started to think that I'm going crazy," he takes a small sip, then licks his lower lip, "I thought you don't want to see me again."

Knowing that your absence affected him that much and it makes you want him more therefore the fear to tell him the truth is getting unbearably scary.

"I can't go further from here," you say.

He glances up from his glass and looks straight into you, there's a flash of sorrow in his warm brown eyes.

"Without telling you the truth about me first," you immediately continue before he gets the wrong idea.

He leans forward on the table, "I'll listen and try to be open," he earnestly says to you.

You put your hands together under the table and hold it tightly, "I'm not a dancer," you say.

He tips his head to the side, waiting for you to say more about it because that can't be the whole truth.

"I'm a stripper," you say and look down at your interlaced hands on your lap.

Most men would most likely be thrilled to hear it because it sort of fills their wild fantasy but Hyunjin is not like most men, you know he needs the time to process it.

Then he puts his hand on your clasped hand and squeezes it, "and what's so wrong about that?"

Tears spill out of your eyes without you intending to and he wipes them for you with his knuckle, he's softly smiling as he's doing it.

"Did you think that I'll judge you for that? Do I look like I'm that kind of person, mmh?" He asks you while holding the side of your face with his hand, offering the warmth of his palm to comfort you.

You shake your head and croak, "No."

Hyunjin gives you a heartwarming smile that put you at ease then slowly leans in to place a soft kiss on your lips that sets everything in its place, that's he's right, this is right.

"How are you still beautiful even when you're crying?" He asks as he wipes fresh tears from the corner of your eyes.

He looks up to see the time and says, "we have twenty minutes before your birthday ends."

He takes the half-eaten cake out of the box and puts the candles back on top, lighting them up so you can blow on it once again in front of him.

"Don't forget to make a wish," he reminds you.

You stop yourself from crying when you should be happy that he accepted the truth well and it was useless for you to be scared. You lean in and close your eyes, you make a wish with all of your heart that you want Hyunjin to be that man you asked for in your prayers every night.

You dearly wish that it's the truth and blow out the candles, sending your wish away with it for the universe to grant it.

"Happy birthday!" He says to you.

You turn to the side to look at him and got the assurance that you have found him, you kiss him to let him know how grateful you are to have met him.

The two of you catch up while eating the cake together and wash it down with wine. He is finished with his paintings for the exhibition and he's already starting on a new series but can't decide on a theme yet.

A little after midnight, you both decide that it's time for bed. He lends his oversized t-shirt for you to wear to bed and is a little surprised when you tell him that you usually sleep naked.

You talk all night talking about yourself and your job. You tell him that you started the job at the age of 21, went to a beauty school, and worked for a regular job for a few months, however, the pay wasn't as much as you expected so you returned to being a stripper.

From there, you built your own life and everyone around you. The money you got helped your mother's business and paid for your brother's college, you also mentioned how both of your parents are not supporting what you do but only your father decides to stop talking to you.

While your brother remains neutral and worries about you a lot in the most brotherly way.

You feel lighter for every piece of truth that you tell him and it's not scary as you thought, it feels liberating instead.

"When I first met you I just knew that you're not like the other girl," he says to you, his fingertips trailing up and down your arm.

"Is that a good thing?" You ask.

He softly chuckles, "what I mean by not like the other girl is that I felt a little intimidated by you."

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, "how is that so?"

He scrunches his nose as he thinks, "you give this impression that you are not one to be tamed and that you're this girl who runs free looking for someone who is just as wild to run with you."

He sucks air through his teeth as if just regretted his way of explaining things, "I'm bad with words," he says as he drops his head in your neck. But you get what he said, know that it means you're different to him and different doesn't always mean bad. From what you see from the way he said those, you know he meant it in the best way.

"You don't have this fantasy of dating a stripper, right?" You jokingly ask.

He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, "funny you said that," he props his elbow against the mattress and looks down at you, "I thought I'd never get to date someone," he reveals.

It baffles you so much to hear that because he got the look and the good personality, "Why?"

He subtly shrugs, "I don't know," he vaguely answers, "dating an artist can be difficult."

You don't want to take his words too seriously, that's just what people say and he said it himself, you're not just like the others.

"I don't see how you can be difficult," you tell him.

He holds your chin and swipes his thumb on your lower lip, "that's because you haven't seen that part of me yet."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" You ask with a daring smile.

He shrugs again, "only tell you what's most likely to come," he says, then he kisses you.

He wraps his hands around you and pulls you so close, so tight that there's barely any space between your bodies. He puts your hair to the side and places another kiss on your lips, a lingering one that makes you melt against him.

With his forehead presses against yours, he tightens his hold around you and says, "don't try to leave me again."

It's your fault that you made him think you'd leave in the morning again. You assure him with a deep kiss then say, "I'm not going anywhere."

-

You're no longer nervous going to the art gallery, not when it's Hyunjin's exhibition and he's been waiting for you.

Hyunjin is deep in a conversation with two people that you don't want to interrupt, however, his eyes instantly found you. He excuses himself to come to you, "I've been waiting for you," he says, doesn't hesitate to briefly kiss you on the lips.

"Congratulations!" You bring a bouquet of flowers for him and hand it to him.

"Thank you," he mutters and gives you another peck.

He then grabs your hand and shows you around, introducing you to a few of his friends along the way, "this is my girlfriend," he introduces.

You get flustered every time he said that and at the same time, feel a little small because he's cherished and admired by so many people.

There is no moment when you're not interrupted by people who wanted to talk to him, "You go ahead and talk to them," you say.

"But I'm not done showing you around," he says.

"That's okay. I can do it myself," you say and soften him with a kiss.

"It'll only take minutes," he says.

You smile to assure him that it's fine, "take your time, it's your night!" You remind him.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses the back of your hand, "don't try to leave me again," he warns with a gentle squeeze on your hand.

"I won't," you say with an annoyed sigh.

He finally let go and leaves you alone to continue looking around the exhibition. Your brother said he'll be coming soon, you told him about going to Hyunjin's exhibition this morning and suddenly he wanted to come too.

He is probably curious more about Hyunjin than the paintings in the exhibition.

You almost choke on your drink when he taps your shoulder from the back, you quickly swallow it and greet him, "you're here!"

He gives you a quick hug, "sorry, the bus arrived late," he concisely explains.

You see someone else behind him and he immediately introduces him to you, "I'm coming with a friend," he says.

You offer your hand for a handshake and smile, "hi, I'm his sister," you say.

He smiles back at you and looks at something on your face that you start to wonder if you smudge your lipstick or something, "they look good on you," he says, pointing at your earrings.

You're wearing the gift from your brother that goes well with the black dress you're wearing tonight, "thank you. You have good eyes," you praise.

You exchange a glance with your brother then look back at his friend, recognizing that this is the friend that helped him picked the birthday gift for you and that tells you something.

"Let me show you around!" You offer.

Hyunjin finally joins after he finishes an interview with a local newspaper. You introduce your brother to him along with his friend which leads to the moment you take the turn to introduce him.

"This is my boyfriend," you say with a sheepish smile.

Hyunjin and your brother shake hands, exchanging pleasantries while they're at it, Hyunjin mostly asks about his paintings to your brother but he has just as little knowledge in art as you are.

Unfortunately, Hyunjin has to excuse himself again as he got called by someone, "I'm sorry," he regretfully says to you both.

He shakes hands with your brother once again, "thank you for coming," he says.

Before leaving he kisses you on the cheek which your brother reacted with a raised eyebrow, his friend excuses himself to get drinks while you both sit on the empty round sofa in the middle of the spacious room.

"Do you like him that much?" Your brother asks you.

"I do," you answer without a beat and you have never been this sure of an answer before.

He chuckles at your blunt and eager answer, "yeah, I can see that," he says.

He looks at you with a smile on his face, "you look radiant."

Here's the thing, you both argued a lot when you were younger but despite all that, he grew into such a loving and protective younger brother when it was supposed to be your role.

"Do you perhaps need something? A new laptop? Phone?" You jokingly ask and gently bump your shoulder with him.

"A new car?" He jokes back.

"Sure," you roll your eyes at him.

He then puts his hand on you, "I'm happy that you're happy," he says, "because I know you deserve it."

Words can't express how grateful you are to have someone who will always have your back especially when you share the same blood with that person. You rest your hand on his shoulder as you both are looking at the same painting of irises in a glass vase.

-

Hyunjin carries the flowers you gifted him in one hand while he's making his way toward you, he told you to wait in the car earlier as he finished a few things about his exhibition first.

"Hi,'" you say as you lean against his car, "can you give me a ride home?"

He ignores you and walks to the driver's side, "I'm sorry, I already have a girlfriend," he says.

You softly chuckle, "I'm not going tell anyone," you say with a hushed voice.

Hyunjin carefully puts the bouquet in the backseat then gets inside the car, he pushes open the door to the passenger's side, "we have to hurry before my girlfriend finds out," he playfully says.

Hyunjin is surprisingly stunned to see your apartment, not only that it's bigger than his studio. Kitchen, living room, bedroom even the balcony, he gives you an impressed look because of how you keep the place neat.

The only reason everything is organized is that you don't have time to make a mess out of the place, "I only sleep at home," you tell him.

He stands in the middle of the living room and takes a look around, "I like it."

You take a stand in front of him, "then you should stay here," you subtly hint at what you've been wanting to ask him.

His ears perked up hearing that, "do you want me to?"

You nod.

He wraps his hands around you but you put them away, you take him to your bedroom, "I have a big bed too," you show off with a sly smile.

Hyunjin gives another impressed smile and nods, "I agree. The bed is big."

You walk toward the bed and turn to face him, "and it's comfortable too."

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Want to try?" You ask back to pique his interest.

He comes up to you but you stop him at arm's length, "I have one rule," you say, "just one rule!"

He tips his head to the side, intrigued.

"You're not allowed to wear any clothes on the bed," it won't be enough to tell him the rule and not show him how it's done. You strip all of your clothes off, tossing your underwear at him which he catches in his hand. He takes a sniff at it as he looks at your naked body on the bed.

You lie on your side and wait for him to join you, giving him the eyes and you know he'll soon catch the signal.

"You look comfortable," he says.

"I am," you say and prop a hand under your head.

Hyunjin tosses your underwear onto the floor to start unbuttoning his shirt and the rest of his clothing, he doesn't wait for your invite to join you, lying his body on top of you.

Everything seems to be aligned when you're together. Your bodies mold into each other's so perfectly like they're made as a pair. You've seen him hovering above you but what you discovered just now is how beautiful he looked under you.

"I know we're just getting started," you're tracing the outline of his face with your index finger as you speak, "and I like you so much."

Hyunjin is rubbing his knuckle up and down the arch of your back, his eyes locked in a gaze with yours, "and I like you as much," he lifts his head to place a quick peck on your lips, “if not more.”

You get a boost of confidence to continue talking from his kiss, "I want to fully commit to our relationship only if you wanted to do the same," you say even though you're aware of how demanding you sounded.

You prop a hand under your head and the other on his chest, "this is how I do and I hope you understand that I don't want to waste time on a meaningless relationship," you explain.

It's always going all in or nothing at all for you. When you're in a relationship, you're willing to put your all into it and you want your partner to do the same. It's either that or don't bother trying. Also, yeah, you're tired of being in a meaningless relationship.

"But I understand if you're not ready," you quickly add with a smile, "I'm sure you need time to think about it."

Hyunjin seems calm when most men usually freak out at the slightest mention of commitment. Then again, he is not most men. He takes a deep breath as he brushes your hair to the side and holds it there, "Let's do that."

It surprises you how easily he agreed to that, you're supposed to be happy but is it real? That he wants to do the same for you?

You playfully shove his shoulder and laugh, "seriously, take your time!”

He puts a hand on the back of your head, "do I look like I gave you a false answer?"

No, he's rather looking serious and looking so gorgeous doing it.

"Are you sure?" You ask because the ghosts of your past relationships are haunting you right now and you want the assurance that this is it. No more heartbreak.

He softly kisses you and says, "yes."

You've been dreaming of reaching the stars then one falls right onto your lap and he's perfect and loving and beautiful. He's the brightest star in the dark of your sky, Hyunjin.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you say while nodding.

“Let’s do this, together,” he rephrased your sentence.

When he slips his hands through the spaces between your fingers, the stars are aligned in that very moment because it feels like nothing but fate.

Hyunjin looked even more beautiful as you make love to him, moving your hips back and forth on top of him while listening to his low moans spilling out of his slightly parted open mouth.

"Oh, I like having you inside me," you breathlessly say to him as you put your hands on his gripping each side of your hips.

"You're perfect inside me," you moan at the end of the sentence, feeling him engorging inside you.

You slide your hands down to his forearms and hold them as support as you pick up the pace, moving faster than before. "close, mmh?"

Hyunjin doesn't answer but keeps groaning with his hands clawing on the flesh of your thighs. You don't need him to though, you already know he's close to his release from the way his cock keeps twitching inside you.

You move as fast as you can, sending him closer and closer to his edge until he lets go.

Hyunjin lets out a loud, raw moan as he cum and you start to slow down, collapsing on top of him. He smiles at you with his eyes closed, "I like you so much to be just like," he mumbles, too tired to speak clearly.

"What is it then?" You ask while giggling.

He puts his hands around you and pulls you closer, "I am deeply smitten," he says with a kiss on your forehead.

"Enamored," he adds with another kiss on your nose.

"Infatuated," he finishes with a long kiss on your lips.

Hyunjin flips you over, sending you under him and he hovers above you, lovingly caressing the side of your face with his hand that painted so many beautiful things.

"You have to know that from this second, I'll never let you go," he warns you.

That doesn't sound like a warning at all to you, that sounds like a promise, that sounds hopeful and makes you want to hold on to him more.

-

Hyunjin moved in with you two weeks later.

It’s a mutual decision with one condition: he's not allowed to pay rent. You argue about that because he keeps insisting on paying half of the rent with you.

"I can't allow you that," you persist, shaking your head at him.

He tries to soften you by holding you close and sweetly talking to you, "we live here together therefore we should pay the rent together," he says.

You shake your head again, "but it's my apartment."

"I know," he shortly replies.

"I mean, I already bought it so why would you bother paying rent?" You ask with a shrug.

His eyebrows knitted together and forms a questioning face, when it finally registered to him, he exclaims, "oh!"

You put your hands on his chest and smile, "You'd better use the money to keep your studio," you suggest.

"Should I?" he asks you as if he needs your permission to use his money.

You don't want to keep him away from his work and he should do it in a separate space, so he can fully focus and not be distracted, “yes, you should!”

It's only time until the two of you form a routine, you wake up in the morning to cook and eat breakfast together, and Hyunjin would go to his studio while you take a few hours of nap. Sometimes you go to work early but many times, you leave after having dinner with him. A few times, Hyunjin stays until late at night in his studio and come home the next morning.

You rarely see him but being with him even just for an hour puts you at ease, coming home never felt this good before despite having to find him already sleeping. You'll quietly get under the cover and give him a goodnight kiss to eventually join him in dreamland.

There's also one of those days when you feel like staying home with him or taking a day off just to have a date, meet some of his friends, and take trips to the art museums.

Never in your life have you dreamed of having a boyfriend that makes you the happy from the moment you open your eyes to the last of your day. But in each of that happy moment, there's that drop of fear that pain will soon replace it.

"Is it okay for me to be this happy?"

“Where is this coming from?" He asks with a slow caress on your head.

You slip your hand under his arm and hold him, "it's just that... this happiness... I'm afraid that it will be taken away from me soon."

He puts his forehead against yours and softly kisses the tip of your nose, "you think I would let that happen?"

Not when he's the source of happiness, just one look at his face and all of your weariness evaporated into thin air. Not only that, he's your source of strength and support.

He kisses your neck and jaw, "I'll try to always make you happy," he assures you.

At that moment, you realized he wants the same thing from you, that he wants you to be that person who does all that for him. Suddenly, you don't want to be afraid anymore, you want to be brave and strong for him.

"I'll always be happy when I'm with you," you tell him.

-

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[envyaina]

chapter one. | j.jk x reader

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“Why are you always so annoying?” he says, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed as he stares at you, waiting for an answer.

You choose to ignore him. Closing your eyes and throwing your head back, already trying to stop the tears that you know are eventually going to come down. He seems to notice and scoffs.

“God, why are you so sensitive? Stop fucking ignoring me and talk to me!” he yells, slamming his hand backward into the wall, causing you to jump.

“Can you just stop and shut up? Seriously, I don’t want to argue with you right now. All I asked was where were you.” you said, still knowing this conversation was far from over causing you to sigh.

His eyes dart in your direction and he lets out an audible sigh, “Excuse me? Shut up? You’re really going to disrespect me like that? This is why you have no fucking friends. You’re disrespectful as fuck.”

You immediately look at him, eyebrows scrunching up before you stand up. “I have fucking friends. You ran away half of them, but I still have many by my side. You barely have friends because they know you’re crazy.”

His face contorts in anger, taking a step away from the wall as he lets his arms fall at his side. “I’m crazy? Me? You’re insane for talking to me like that. I’m doing everything I do for you and you are seriously treating me like this?”

You laugh, “You don’t do shit but scream at me over nothing!”

“You should be thankful I put up with you. You’re useless, and without me, you’d be nothing but a crying mess on the street,” he says, coming closer and poking a finger at your chest.

You pushed him back, taking a step back to create more space between you. “You’re so insecure that you have to pick on a woman because you can’t take up a man. Hell, you aren’t a man either. Real men don’t do this stupid shit. Without me, you wouldn’t be anything.”

He pushes you forcefully onto the couch and his voice grows louder as he hovers over you. “You think you’re tough, huh? How about you tell me that again? Without me, you’re nothing. Don’t you understand that? I could have any goddamn woman I wanted, and you should feel privileged I chose you.”

You stand up, angrily punching his chest then pushing him back as you point your finger at him “You’re the useless one, And fine, have anyone else. I would be happy to have you gone. Anyone else who puts up with you is as equally dumb as you are. You think leaving me would affect me but it won’t. I would be so fucking happy if you just left me alone forever. I’m everything you aren’t. That’s why you pick on me.”

“You know what?” He says before he puts his hands on your shoulder and gets close to your face. “Maybe I will leave you. I’ve had enough of listening to your goddamn mouth that screams and begs for attention. I could just find myself a younger and prettier woman in a second, or hell, I could just have a one-night stand with all the bitches that are always staring at me. What are you going to do then, huh?”

You shrug and smirk at him, “I wouldn’t do anything. I would enjoy my time away from you very happily. So go ahead, sleep with anyone you want, or leave me for someone else. You’ll be doing me a favor.”

“Well, then that’s what I’m going to do.” He starts backing away, but then he stops himself and grabs your shoulders again, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall with a lot of force. “Shut up, okay?” He says as he presses his body to yours, pinning you against the wall as his eyes widen and his tone gets louder and angrier. “Don’t you give me that attitude, or I swear your life will get worse than it already is. Just remember I’m the one in charge, got it?”

You look up at him into his eyes, “No. I don’t get it. You aren’t in charge. I don’t know who you think you are but you aren’t who you think you are at all.”

“How dare you speak to me like that?” he says getting even closer, pressing himself on you with even more force. “I’m in charge, and you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be with me. You wouldn’t be wasting time with someone that treats you like garbage… and you wouldn’t enjoy it.” He sees the tears starting to form in your eyes and he smirks.

“Oh please, I try to leave but you always come back with bullshit. I can’t without you finding me and dragging me back to this fucking place. One day I’ll move states, even countries to be happier away from you.” you say pointing your finger into his chest.

“Do you think you can get away from me?” He looks down at your finger pointed at my chest as he laughs madly. “I'll never let you go, ever. There's no way you can escape me. You'll be stuck with me forever. Even if you do move states or countries, I'll find a way to make you come back. You won't get away from me. And deep down, you know you're addicted to how I treat you.”

“I’m not.” You laugh, but deep down you know he’s right. “You say I’m useless? But you want to track me down and make sure I never leave? I guess I'm not so useless if you want to do all of this to make sure I don’t leave.”

“No one will ever have you the way I do, okay? Even if they say they want you, they don't. When you cry at night because I ignore you, no one will be there to comfort you. When you feel lonely, no one will be there to hold you. When you feel empty and useless, no one, and I mean no one, will be there to fill you. I'm the only person you have.” He smirks playfully, and then he looks at your face, expecting you to tell him how much you need him.

You laugh at that. “You don’t know that half of the stuff I do huh? You don’t know how many men text me every day, begging to fuck me? Threatening to kill you just to have me? how many men stay up at night comforting me and making me feel happier than I am with you? I am very useful actually. I have many people who would love to hold me, love me, and have me.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs.”What a funny joke.” He backs up a little and crosses his arms, his face showing a look of superiority. “Sure, sure, many men want to be with you. Keep dreaming.” He

pats your head playfully. “What are those men going to do? Love you as I do? Give you protection and happiness as I do? No one will ever make you feel as good as I make you feel.”

“They do it better. And it’s not a lie, if you go through my phone it’s all you’ll see. All the love I receive from everyone else that’s not you.” You say, hoping he believes you through the lies.

He laughs. “Yeah, sure, sure, darling.” He approaches you and caresses your face, his tone sounds a bit softer. “Look, don't get the wrong idea about these men. They want your body, that's all they want. Not your heart and your love. They want a night with you, but I want a life with you.”

You slap his hand away and walk away to your room. “That’s what you think. You are the only one who wants me for my body. You’re a fucking creep.”

“How would you know what they want? They just see you as easy and a chance to get laid.” He walks towards you, as he puts his arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Don't be so sure of yourself. They only take you as a joke, they don't care about you or your feelings.” He looks at you with a warm smile. “Only I do. But sure, if you really want to experience someone else's touch, go ahead. You'll soon come back to me after those men throw you away.”

You laugh at him again. “Oh, but I won’t!” You start grabbing a suitcase. “I’ll live my life man free and be happy! Being alone might be what’s best for me anyways. I don’t need a partner to feel loved, but I’m not sure about you.”

“Good luck with that, darling. No one will be there for you, remember that.” He takes the suitcase away from you, and he grabs your hips to hold you against him. “Are you really going to leave, babe?” His tone switches from a caring voice to a harsh tone. “You wouldn't last a minute in this world without me. And please, let me just hold you for a second longer. We've been together for so long.”

You remove him from your waist and you turn around to face him. “I survived without you before and I’ll do it again. And you can keep all of this shit. I’ll start brand new. New clothes, new hair, new home, new everything so I don’t have to be reminded what I dealt with before I was genuinely happy.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs. “You're so sure you'll be happy like this. But, what happens when you realize it's all empty? When you're so lonely and empty you start crying every night? Who will be there to comfort you? How will you fill the emptiness?” He looks at you, trying to put some sense in your head, but he feels you're being so stubborn.

“I don’t need anyone but myself. You think you fucked me up but you didn’t. You will be the one alone at night, crying from being alone, crying from having no one, crying from regret. You track me down for a reason.” You smirk at your last words.

“Yeah, right. Who will you call when you feel lonely? If not me, you'll call your mother just to cry all the tears you still have in your eyes. Even your mother can't handle your drama.” He looks at you and laughs again, but his tone is starting to get angrier and louder. “Do you think you can survive by yourself? Let's see how that works out...”

“We will.” you say before starting to make your way to the door.

“You're really leaving me?” he says, watching you moving towards the door. “Fine, fine, have it your way. But before you go, come here. Give me one last kiss.”

You laugh before grabbing the doorknob and turning back to him. “Oh please. Kiss my ass. Fuck you.” You say before turning the doorknob to leave.

“Damn, you really can't just leave politely and do one little thing.” He looks at you and sighs. “I don't understand why you're so mad. Why can't you be thankful that I cared enough to be with you? To love you? You know, a lot of guys would be with you just to use your body. But I wanted you, all of you.” After saying that, his voice breaks, and tears start forming his my eyes. “Why are you so angry at me for loving you? What's wrong with you?”

“So now you are going to try and guilt trip me? Your tricks are so stupid. Quit the act. You’re a grown man act like it. You don’t love me. You love abusing me.”

“Abusing you?” His voice sounds softer again, and he looks at you as if he was feeling offended by your words. “I've never abused you, ever. Don’t ever say that. I would never put my hands on you like that. You're just exaggerating because you don't like the truth. I've told you before, I do these things because I care. I care about you more than you think.“

“You don’t fucking care. I hope you find out what’s wrong with you. I hope you get the help you need. You’re ridiculous.” You finally get to your car and open the door.

He grabs your arm and his voice becomes harsher. “You don't get to walk away whenever you want to. You're not going anywhere. You're staying here with me. His face shows pure anger now, and tears drop from his eyes. “You're just another dumb, worthless woman who can't think for herself. He then smiles and starts talking but with a warmer tone. “Don't you remember all the good things I've done for you? The gifts? The food? The love I've given you?”

“You never gave me love, what are you talking about?” you say, turning around to face him as you lean against your car.

“See how you can't just appreciate the love I give you? You've got the memory of a goldfish. That time I cooked you dinner and you loved it? Remember? All those times I made you laugh and smile with my jokes? Or what about that time you were sad and I was there for you.” He puts his hands on your cheek, still holding your arm. “You need to recognize everything I've done for you.”

“I’m leaving. You haven’t done nothing but mess me up. Like i said, I hope you have a good life. I hope one of the girls who want you so bad and you have a good life. Hopefully you start a family and change.” you say pushing his hand off of you and turning to unlock you car.

He grabs your arm again harder. “You don't get to leave like that. Not before I tell you what you need to hear. You're making a mistake, you know. Just don't come running back to me when you find out how hard it is to live without a man, alright? Good luck with finding a man to take care of you. Because you wouldn't survive for a week without a man.” He shakes his head. “How can you expect to have kids or a family, when you can't even keep yourself together?”

You slap his hand and get into your car, immediately locking the doors. You roll the window down a little so you can continue talking. “I’m not making a mistake. The only mistake I made was saying yes when you asked me to be your girlfriend.” You put your keys in the ignition. “I don’t need a man to be happy, why don’t you understand? I would prefer to be alone anyways.”

“You just say it. But you don't know how it feels.” He crosses his arms and looks at you through the window, before getting closer so I can talk while looking at your face. “It's always the same. First, you don't need a man, and then you cry every night wondering where some guy is. You won't know how miserable you'll be, until you actually go through with this and feel the loneliness. You'll come back, believe me.” He smirks at you and chuckles. “You'll come back crying in your pillow.”

“I won’t. I’ll be far far away, living life single. Going on as many dates as i want. Fuckinh whoever i want. Loving whoever i want. And being as happy as i want. You are the one who’s going to be miserable.” you say, leaning back into your seat.

“So I'm going to be miserable because I don't sleep with strangers?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Good luck with that, darling. It's not that bad to be alone. I would be okay with that. It's not like you are the love of my life... I can get an even better woman than you, if that's what I want.” He tries to laugh again but he can’t. It’s starting to hit him. “God, you’re really leaving me, aren’t you?”

You roll up the window up and you smile at him through the window before waving goodbye. “Have fun.” you say before putting the car into drive.

He grabs onto the door handle, holding onto the door as you're about to drive off. “Wait, no. Just a second more.” His tone goes back to the sad one, and tears drop down his cheeks. “Please... don't leave. Don't go... I beg you. I'm sorry... For everything. For making you feel sad.” He looks at you through the glass with all the sadness in his eyes.

You stare at him, shaking your head at his behavior.

“Please... Come back. I don't want to be alone. I don't know what to do by myself. I can't stand being alone. Please, can we just talk and fix this.” He puts his hands on his face and looks at you. “I'm so sorry, I'll be more considerate next time. Please, don't leave me alone.” He starts hitting the window with his hands, as he doesn’t want you to go.

“Stop hitting my fucking window you psycho!” you yell to him through the window.

“Don't yell at me! This is all your fault! Why did you have to make me upset? I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry... Please... Don't leave...” He hits the window again, as the emotions overcome his body. “What am I going to do alone? What is this feeling?” He’s now having a hard time breathing. “ I don't know how to live without you. I need you. I need you, just come back.” he whines, tears falling from my eyes onto the window.

“You’re pathetic. Didn’t you say you can find a better woman than me? Well go find her.” you say before finally preparing to drive off. Putting on your seatbelt and adjusting your seat.

He hits the window a few more times before giving up on stopping you from leaving. “You're right, I don't know why I'm stopping you. Just leave, go live your life...” He lets go of the door handle and looks at you at the window. “Just don't ask me to take you in when you're all alone at night because the feeling is too much to bear.” He says, laughing a bit before turning to leave, still crying a bit.

You laugh too. Staring at him walking away as you then focus in front of you, finally pushing the gas to go.

He stares at your car as you leave. Tears falling down his cheeks as he slowly get on his knees. He takes his phone out of his pocket and calls you for the last time.

You ignore them, grabbing your phone only to text your friend.

[ebi-noodle-doodles]

I think that last anon was incredibly rude and very, very suspicious. I'm also a fat person, and I think your art is just fine the way it is.

This anon accuses you of having a fat fetish for using peach to shade, doesn't give you the name of the artist they think you're emulating, and then tell you (not asking politely, on your own blog where they are a guest, TELL) you to put body hair on Miku.

Not to mention, why are they recognizing a style from a fat fetish artist if they aren't on the fat fetish side of twitter themselves, enough to have picked up on this supposed artist's style, down to the shading?

Sure, Twitter is wild, you'll see plenty of things you aren't necessarily looking for, but this reads as someone who is trying very hard not to let you see them sweating. What are they doing at the devil's sacrament, pointing out all of the sinners there, tactfully not pointing at themselves as one of the people included amongst the crowd.

If they didn't say "teehee I'm a fat girl btw <33 nasty nasty fetishists <33" at the end, wouldn't you think this message is situationally inappropriate? This is the internet, this person is anonymous, and that means they can lie if they feel like it.

You shouldn't even believe me or care when I say I'm fat, because I too am anonymous, and you simply can't fact check me. Even off anon, I don't share pictures of myself online, because I know better than to trust the internet at large.

If they are not outright malicious

(people will do this when they themselves fetishize fat women for the sake of getting art they think is hot; kind of like people saying "fat women can't be sexy" so fat women will post suggestive pictures of themselves to prove the statement incorrect, especially so they can pick and choose through which images they like. This is Creep Behavior, to use negging to manipulate people into sharing racey pictures)

then they are outright very, very rude, despite their friendly tone. This is YOUR blog, your art is fantastic, and nobody should be coming into your house, telling you how to run things.

Personally, I think the shapes and textures you draw are aesthetically pleasing, and your color choices always go together very nicely, especially when pink and green can clash really bad if you're not careful. Please don't let some misguided person (or worse, a creep) tell you what to do. You've gotten as far as you have on your own just fine, because you're doing your own thing.

In your response to anon, you said

"I find it weird that when a “normal” character is posed something suggestive its just a drawing but when added a bit weight it becomes a “fetish” ????"

(https://www.tumblr.com/ebi-noodle-doodles/739308628074496000/im-really-not-trying-to-be-rude-but-your-pure)

and I could not agree with you more.

Why is it a fetish that Miku is fat? I look an awful lot like her, and it's nice to be represented in art, suggestive or otherwise. Why is this person coming at you like you're a freak pervert that needs to be corrected, when you're just drawing a character?

Why is fat considered inherently unattractive, the only people allowed to enjoy it being (implied) nasty, disgusting, morally deficit fetishists, when "normal" or "skinny" body types are left alone? Why are we treating body fat as morally reprehensible, and not just a thing people sometimes have?

If this person really is fat, they have a lot of internalized fatphobia to let go of, and if they're a fetishist they need to learn better manners.

And thank you, for being generous enough to share your art with the world. Sorry for the lengthy message as well. Your Miku is very cute, and I look forwards to seeing more of your art in the future :]

- 🐺🕷️ (Wolf Spider Anon)

Ive been self debating and doubting if what I’m doing is bad or that Ive done something wrong especially on illustrating her in a suggestive manner

Thank you for understanding my view. The reply timing is off as I’m still trying to understand myself if my coloring it self was wrong… are my poses off? Is it rude to draw her like this? I didnt take the anon’s comment as rude but i did feel some guilt that i feel i shouldnt have? Man i dont understand I’m dumb when it comes to these sort of stuff. I just answered truthfully on thoughts about that. All I know is I enjoy painting her, suggestively, happy, innocently or cute! I just like drawing her. Youll see more of her in blog hopefully :D

[bothzangetsus]

For the ask game:

3, 8 and 16

choose violence ask game

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

I have a lot! Lol. There are some pretty vile genuinely -ist ones, but I mostly want to treat this game as things to laugh at rather than get mad over. So I'll pick two that are on the puzzling side!

I think the funniest bad take which I can also connect to my username I've seen was the person deadly seriously saying zanpakutou are the opposites of the wielder, and citing Zangetsu as proof (white Zangetsu, not old man). It's so puzzling! We got the reveal in a chapter literally called THE BLADE IS ME. I desperately need to know how they arrived to that conclusion.

Plus, like, your power growing the more in tune with yourself you are is one of the coolest core aspects of Bleach, imo. It's one of the themes the manga never betrays, too.

Putting the rest under the read more because it got long, lol.

The other is more recent and I have an actual screenshot of it! Yay!

I'm not saying this is a bad take because of the ships it targets -- I couldn't care less about who ships what, frankly -- but the reasoning! It made me feel like I time travelled to 2011 :DDD *who* the hell throws 'horny yaoi fangirl' as an insult these days?

If I am to be more serious, it's also the misconception that people ship things because of anything that reflects something about them as a person. Genuine emotional connection? Who cares? It's fine to want that for your ships. I would never rec grimmichi/urayoru/yorusoi to anyone looking for healthy ships where both halves genuinely touch each other's hearts, but people don't like unhealthy ships because they're 'starved for genuine emotional connection', be so serious right now. It's such a cheap attempt to feel superior and so dated that it becomes funny.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Hmmm, what IS a common opinion? It feels like the fandom is pretty fractured. I guess the one unifying opinion I disagree with is that the manga became worse after Soul Society arc. I think its structure became significantly weaker and it kept sustaining tension for far longer than it should've with very minor moments of (much needed, necessary for characterisation) reprieve, but I think Hueco Mundo and Lost Agent and, yes, even TYBW, are muuuuuch stronger arcs thematically. They're more depressing and pretty much a downward spiral (and dear god TYBW is such a mess plot-wise that it can be hard to reread) but the themes it revolves around are ever-present and it never betrays itself for the sake of a #cool moment or "closure", and I personally appreciate that.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Is it cheating to say fluff? That's not Bleach-related. I'm sorry, I love misery!

Bleach-related................ I'm drawing a blank! There are plenty of tropes etc that I dislike, but I can usually understand why someone would like it. I suppose I don't understand takes that seem to be based on 'well EYE like it and it came to me in a dream' (rather than being based on something that happens in canon), but I can understand why someone would enjoy that too, it's just not my personal approach.

I will say though. I am a bit bored of the "this villain just needed Love and their bad personality and actions are mostly a result of Not Knowing Love" take. I think villains are hot because they're villains! Let them enjoy their villainous actions! But I still get why people like that too. So I guess I'm mostly giving a non-answer here.

[yril-writes]

— OURS!

synopsis ; dating two people, is equal to troublesome and most importantly loud. Especially if they both crave attention at the same time.

scenario ; college modern au! where sukuna and yuuji are siblings! What is it like to have a date in a theme park with having two of your boyfriends argue at the dumbest things you could ever think of.

"You can't always go on dates with the two of us, you have to choose one!"

"Who do you like most? Me or Sukuna?"

type ; headcanon

include/s ; ryoumen sukuna & itadori yuuji as twin siblings!

pairing/s ; character/s x gn! reader

genre ; fluff, comedy and a mountain full of corn

Going on a theme park date especially having to bring both of them seems weird alright. People murmuring, prying eyes watching the three of you. Felt uncomfortable but you planned this for the both of them to get along!

At most all of the rides you get to only have one to sit with and both of them would always argue who gets to have you. And this happened in the bumper cars where both of them fought over you like a kid and you decided to have your own car leaving them both in a car with Yuuji driving and Sukuna sulking.

Not just that but when it comes to food there is a specific menu for couples the problem is there are three of you and only applicable for two people, still buying it Sukuna would immediately grab the other straw and hand it over you so that you are both seen like a sweet couple drinking on the same drink while leaving out Yuuji who is completely moping like a puppy in front of you both.

Every ride and food promos they would argue and have their turn and if they did making the other feel worse or jealous is what they are good at and you hated seeing them like that as if they don't really get along even though they are siblings.

"You can't always go on dates with the two of us, you have to choose one!" Sukuna yells at you as he scrunches his brows together, his arms crossed and even glared at Yuuji.

"Who do you like most? Me or Sukuna?" Yuuji follows up as he stares at you immensely desperate to know your answer it may not seem like it but Sukuna as well awaits for your answer.

In your eyes right now, you see two different breeds of dog wagging their tail as if waiting for a treat. But you couldn't bear the pressure they were giving off and it made you snap, telling them that you'll for a bathroom break.

You love them both and you can't just pick one over the other, it's as if having both of them completes what you have now and you are happy. Going out from the bathroom you decided to tell them what you had thought but you were stopped by a man, who clearly appears to be a stalker and a creep. He kept on pushing himself to you and the grip of his hand on your wrist is starting to hurt.

"LET GO OF ME!" struggling you were in a competition with this man who is firmly holding your wrists, you are feeling scared, panicked even you can feel how uneasy you are breathing. You hate this. (YUUJI! SUKUNA! HELP ME!) you could only scream their names in your head, as you shut both of your eyes.

Seconds later, you feel your wrist free from the man's grasp, opening both of your eyes two familiar broad backs greeted you and you were happy to see them both.

"What would you ever do without us?" Sukuna shrugs and lets out a disappointed sigh as he kicks the man currently laying down on the street. "Your wrists, it left a mark...its cool it down with some ice, it might leave a bruise..." Yuuji says in a gentle tone as he carefully touches your wrist, and gives you a smile to reassure you that everything is fine now.

"Sorry to disappoint you, buddy. But they belong to US, don't you dare put your filthy hands on her. Disgusting pig." the Itadori brothers looked at each other and blinked a few times because what happened just now is that they finished each other's sentences and they both felt their spine shiver at that moment.

a/n ; yes another both of them cause why the heck not! I'm quite obsessed with the both of them! ^^

taglist ; @sammushy @ryuuudesuwa @jasugoi @gcj-doesart